Chapter 40

"You sunk my battleship!"
- M. Bradley

Monday brought a new routine to the household. Members of the track team were 'strongly encouraged' (strong-armed) to work out in the school weight room before classes, so Lori drove us to school in the morning. While Rose could have slept in and then walked there, she insisted on getting up early and riding in with us. This gave her the opportunity to cook a hot breakfast for us, though she did keep it on the lighter side.

As Lori was driving us to school, she suggested to Rose, "You could always join me in the weight room. There's nothing that says that you have to be an athlete to use it."

Shaking her head, Rose replied, "No, I would just be getting in the way of somebody who needs to be using it. The library is a better place for me. Even if I don't need to study, I could always use one of their computers and hop online."

Lori tried a couple of times to reassure Rose that it would be fine if she used the weight room, but in typical Rose fashion, when she made up her mind on something, she stood steadfast. Rose then reiterated that she would be fine walking home after school, instead of Lori driving her home only to have to return for track.

The school day seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was walking Traci to the locker-room after sixth period. When we reached the entrance, I gave her a brief kiss before we parted. As I started my journey to the parking lot, I spotted somebody I had been wanting to talk to. Even though I was slightly pressed for time, the fact that he was alone overrode my concerns about being tardy.

"Hey, Toby, you got a sec?"

"Sure, Chad."

Toby Butler was a large senior and was, arguably, one of the strongest guys in school. He had been one of the primary reasons why the football team had made it to the CIF playoffs the past couple of years -- he had set a division record for most sacks his junior year. He was also the unofficial leader of the Aggies; the fact that he actually worked on the ranch that his family owned put him head and shoulders above the wannabes.

I fell in stride next to him and decided to cut to the chase by telling him, "Russell Young."

"That little shit. Is he still hassling the Mexican chicas?"

"Don't know about that. I just thought you might want to keep an eye on him, though," I replied. From my brief encounters with Toby in the past, I had picked up that he really did not care for the stereotypical cowboy image that people had. I was fairly certain that, as soon as he caught wind of what Russell had been doing to Chuck, the matter would be taken care of.

"Okay, noted," Toby said when he realized that I was not going to go into detail.

It became apparent that we were walking towards the parking lot, though who was following whom was unclear. I asked him, "Don't you have track practice?"

A small frown crept across his lips when he replied, "How did you know that I did track?"

'I remember your picture from memorizing last year's yearbook, ' would have been a tad awkward, so I went a far simpler explanation and jerked my thumb towards his left breast.

Toby actually looked down at his letter before slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead. He then told me, "I got a full ride from Cal Poly for football, so I don't need to do track anymore. I was doing that as a backup. Coach King was a little disappointed, but he seems to understand."

I figured that 'little disappointed' was an understatement. Toby had come in second for shotput during the regional finals. While education was stressed as the forefront in extracurricular activities, some coaches found it difficult to keep that in mind when it came to the success of their teams; I am sure that Coach King had fully expected for one of his star athletes to return that spring.

The fact that Toby had chosen Cal Poly was not that surprising. A large number of schools had been courting him, but Toby seemed not to have had any illusions about making it to the professional level, so instead went with a school that was not only local, but had a stellar agriculture department.

When we arrived at Lori's car, I fished out the spare set of keys that Marge had lent me so that I could retrieve the golf clubs. I swapped the clubs with my backpack and laptop bag. Toby seemed to recognize the car because he commented, "Rumor is that you moved in with the Caspars."

In the beginning, I had been protective about my living situation, lest my house be overrun with classmates who wanted to have 'keggers'. When Rose had joined me, I had become even more so, since we were the only two people living in my house. It was only after the Caspars had moved in that I had relaxed and did not mind others knowing about it, though like Toby, many were under the false impression that I was living with the Caspars instead of the other way around. However, instead of correcting his false impression, I just nodded.

"Cool. Say, you don't by chance know if Lori has been dating anybody, do you?"

Toby had tried to play off the question casually, but when he broke eye contact with me, I realized that he was attracted to Lori. When Lori had introduced me to him, along with a couple of other players on the football team, I had thought that Toby had been a tad flustered when he had spoken to Lori. I found myself smiling at Toby and shook my head. "No, she has not been dating anybody."

"I didn't think so. Then again, after what that dickwad did to her, I don't blame her."

My smile faded from my face, and I glanced around. Students were walking to their cars, and the chances of being overheard were not high, but I still lowered the tone of my voice when I observed, "I wasn't aware that was common knowledge."

"Oh, it's not. You see, I was already playing Varsity my sophomore year, and one day Vince comes into the locker room, running his mouth about what an easy lay Lori was. I knew that was bullshit, since I've known Lori since Junior High. When I told a couple of my friends who were seniors, they decided to search his locker, and they found a vial labeled Keta..."

"Ketamine," I supplied.

"Yeah, that's what it was. One of the guys had heard about that shit being a date rape drug. Well, after we found that, we decided to give him a dose of his own medicine. Had ourselves a private little gathering, with him being the guest of honor. After he was unconscious, we tied him up, tossed him in our trunk and made a little road trip down to TJ."

I let out an appreciative whistle. Tijuana was a good seven-hour drive to the south. If they had been caught, they would have been in a world of hurt. Also, transporting people in the trunk of a car risks carbon monoxide poisoning, but I guessed they were not terribly concerned with Vince's wellbeing.

"When we got there, we found ourselves a workhouse, stripped him, and left him there. Took him nearly a week to return to school."

"Wow, I am surprised he didn't rat you guys out."

Toby had a huge grin on his face when he said, "Oh, we left him a few Polaroids and a note warning him to keep his mouth shut and for him not to drug anybody anymore. I mean, from those pictures, it appeared that he was enjoying sucking our cocks."

I found myself matching Toby's grin. It appeared that they had run their own version of a Honey Pot operation. I then sobered up a little bit and told Toby, "I am so glad that you told me about this. Here I thought I was going to have to track down Vince and teach him a lesson, but it looks like you already took care of it."

Shrugging, Toby said, "Wasn't that big of a deal."

"Uh-huh. Administrating a controlled substance, international kidnapping, blackmail... I can see that being 'no big deal'."

Toby's grin changed to more of a sheepish one before it slowly faded away. "You're not going to tell her, are you?" he asked with concern.

I shook my head. He let out a sigh of relief, but I had to ask, "Why haven't you said anything?"

Shrugging, he replied, "I don't know. I guess part of me was afraid that maybe Vince didn't drug her. I mean, it was just an assumption on our part that he had drugged her. He could have had that shit and not have had the chance to use it."

I think Toby was looking for validation from me, but I was unable to supply it. His confidence was not the only one I had to deal with; Lori had told me her ordeal in secrecy. I was toeing a very fine line as it was and had overstepped a tad when I mentioned not needing to seek out Vince to wreak retribution on him.

As informative as our little conversation had been, I needed to get to the school van that would be driving me out to the golf course. "Hey, Toby, I need to get going. Did you want me to ask Lori if she would be interested in going out on a date with you?"

It was amusing to see a big, strapping young man like Toby begin to blush. "Um, um, sure. You don't mind?"

'Of course I mind, she is one of mine!' I heard a primal voice cry out in my head. What I actually told Toby was, "Not at all. I'll test the waters for you and let you know, okay?"

"Thanks a bunch, Chad. I'll make sure to keep my eye on Russell."

I walked in a hurried pace to where Coach Forrest had told me that the school van would be. When I spotted Chuck, I walked towards him and observed an amused Fran standing next to him.

"Oh? So this is what you are doing after school today," Fran commented when I passed Lori's old set to Chuck. She then added, "I guess that also explains where you were yesterday."

"Yes, I'm playing golf. Are you satisfied now? You've been bugging me all day why I wasn't going to be need a ride home after school. Now, you know."

"I wouldn't have had to bug you if you'd just told me," Fran pointed out.

"Fine, whatever. Chad and I need to go," Chuck told her.

We took a step toward the school van when Fran stopped us. "Just a sec," she said, waving her arm in the air. Chuck and I looked to see whom she was signaling, and we saw Chuck's mom pulling into the parking lot. Chuck was visibly surprised when his mother turned off the car, pulled up next to us and got out.

"Oh? You're playing golf, Chuck?" Mrs. Johnson asked as she unlocked the trunk of her car.

Chuck seemed too flabbergasted to respond as Fran retrieved a set of golf clubs from the trunk of car. "Thanks, Mom."

Chuck's mother and Fran shared a little wink before she announced, "Just give me a call when you two need picking up. It was nice seeing you again, Chad."

"You too, Mrs. Johnson," I replied with a smile.

"You two coming?" Fran asked as she started towards the school van.

Chuck seemed rooted to the spot, and it was not until I gave him a gentle nudge before he seemed to have found his feet. As we followed about fifteen feet behind Fran, he pondered, "I just don't understand. I mean, I only told them this morning on the way to school that I wasn't going to be needing a ride because I was going to be busy after school. How the hell did they find out?"

Chuck did not seem to be asking me that question, so I remained silent, though I had a strong suspicion on how they had found out. It would explain Traci's strange telephone behavior when I walked into the bedroom the previous night. Fran had been added to the ever-increasing circle of people that Traci talked to on the telephone. While Traci's improved attitude towards the blonde Amazon might have been a contributing factor in including Fran in her calling circle, I had witnessed her talking to Edana Bowen, a girl that she despised, for over a half an hour one time. After Traci had ended the call with Edana, I had asked her why she had talked to Edana, given her feelings towards the other girl. I had received an incredulous look from her and been told, "Because she called me."

Chuck and Fran were not the only familiar faces I saw. Ruth Bachman, who was in my English class, was one of the students already at the van. After I had stowed my clubs in the back of the van, I went over to her and exchanged a few polite words. A few minutes later, the Junior Varsity Coach, Mr. Lin, arrived and we climbed into the van.

The tension between Fran and Chuck was especially thick, so I chose to sit next to Ruth. On the drive to the golf course, Ruth asked me, "How's Rose? I haven't had a chance to talk to her lately."

For a split second, I thought Ruth was referring to the letters that Rose had received, but I then remembered that Ruth was one of the first students whom Rose had approached during her spiritual quest. "Rose is good. She hit a rough patch when she hit a string of religions that were not too tolerant towards her lifestyle, but the last two places she visited she enjoyed. I think right now she is torn between Reform Judaism, Buddhism, Unitarian Universalism, and United Church of Christ-ism."

Ruth smiled at my little pun before frowning. "I don't like hearing that she feels torn--"

I quickly interrupted her by saying, "Oh no, that's my term, not hers. Really, she was quite happy when she found out that your Synagogue was accepting to the fact that she is gay. I just think right now she feels compelled to choose one over the other three, that's all."

Ruth's smile returned and she nodded her head in understanding. "Well, please let her know that she's always welcome to attend anytime. My parents don't mind at all, giving her a ride if she needs one."

"Okay, I'll let her know," I told her. Our conversation then shifted to a book we had been assigned in English class, and we spent the rest of the journey to the golf course discussing the merits of 'The Catcher in the Rye'.

"So, Fran plays golf. Is she any good?"

When we had arrived at the golf course, everybody had retrieved their clubs from the back of the van and had begun walking to the driving range. Once again, Fran was ahead of Chuck and me.

Chuck let out a little snort and replied, "Of course, she is. If it's physical, she excels at it. Doesn't matter what it might be: volleyball, water polo, swimming, Little League, judo, et cetera. She always does better than me at everything."

"I don't know about that," I observed. "Don't you do better than her academically?"

I was thinking about the ruckus Fran had caused when she and Chuck had swapped classes during Halloween, but he dismissed me with a wave. "Fran is a lot smarter than she lets on. I think she has taken on the 'dumb blonde' role to fit in. Anyhow, I haven't seen her play, but she used to go golfing all the time with the Dads before..." Chuck's voice trailed off, and I was once again amused how Chuck and Fran referred to each other's parents as 'Mom' and 'Dad'. After a few seconds, Chuck resumed what he had been saying, "... before she messed up her knee playing volleyball. I didn't think her knee was fully healed."

A collection of buckets was already waiting for us at the driving range. The juniors and seniors were told to go with Coach Lin to the practice green, while the rest of us were instructed to grab a bucket and find an open bay on the driving range. Chuck, Fran, and I found some at one end and claimed them.

After Fran laid her golf bag on the ground, she pulled out a knee brace that had been in one of its large pockets. As she was putting it on, she saw that Chuck had a look of concern on his face. Laughing it off, she told him, "It's no big deal. Doc Ryder told me that I could play golf. She just wanted me wear the brace if I did, that's all."

As I had done the previous day, I took the slot that allowed me to keep an eye on Chuck. Fran was on the other side of me, and I did find myself pausing to watch her swing. It only took her a few swings to adjust to the restrictions that the knee brace caused, and she was driving the balls straight and true in no time.

Chuck, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about half the stuff he had learned the previous day. After I hit a couple of balls, I went over to him and began to correct his swing. Chuck only needed a little prodding to remember what he had been taught. He still had the bad habit of lifting his head, and I was about to point that out when Fran said, "You need to keep your head down."

Apparently, Fran had grown curious of what we were up to and had joined us. Chuck was about to say something when she told him, "Keep your head down, and I'll watch the ball for you."

Chuck grumbled for a few seconds but did as he was told. For the next few shots, Fran reported how he did. After the fourth time of doing that, he hit an excellent drive, and he must have felt it because his eyes were rooted to where the ball had been and excitedly asked, "How was it?"

I held back a chuckle when Fran answered, "I don't know. I wasn't watching."

Chuck whirled his head to Fran, and she began laughing. Pointing, she told him, "You did great. Look, your ball is still bouncing."

Chuck then turned to see where she was indicating and watched as the ball bounced passed the 250 yard marker. "Holy shit! Did you see that?!?"

I was about to reply, 'No, I wasn't watching, ' when we heard a loud, "Johnson!" come from behind us.

"Yes?"

Coach Forest was striding towards us and I saw him suppress a smile, most likely caused by the three of us whirling around and answering him in almost perfect unison. It appeared that Coach Forest was the type of coach that preferred calling students by their last name. When he pulled up in front of us, he studied us for a few seconds before asking, "Who's the oldest?"

Fran raised a finger indicating her, and I heard Chuck mutter under his breath, "Yeah, by six hours."

Apparently, I was not the only one to hear Chuck's observation. Coach Forest was deadpan when he commented, "It must have been a painful labor." He then turned his focus to me and said, "I'm guessing that the chance that you were born sometime between them is extremely unlikely, so that would make you the youngest."

I smiled and nodded my head.

"Okay, J-1, J-2, and J-3," announced Coach Forest as he pointed at Fran, Chuck, and I. After bestowing us with our new monikers, Coach turned to Chuck and said, "J-2, just because we are not in a classroom does not give you liberty to use that form of language. This is, after all, a school activity. In addition, golf is a game of etiquette. Please try to refrain from using that colorful colloquialism for when you hit a bucket like that last shot or a hole in one. Understood?"

Chuck nodded his head and replied, "Yes, Mr. Forrest."

Coach Forrest raised an eyebrow that resulted in Fran nudging Chuck with her elbow and prompting him softly, "Coach", through the corner of her mouth. Chuck then corrected his response, "Yes, Coach Forrest."

Coach Forrest told Chuck, "J-3 came to me this morning and told me that you have a newfound interest for the game of golf. You need to know that you are not 'officially' here until you hand in your papers. I have them in my car, so make sure you remind me to give them to you before you leave today. Besides the Athletic Code and Parental Consent forms, you will also need a physical examination. One of the clauses of the Athletic Code is the prohibition of the use of tobacco. That includes when you are playing on your own time."

Coach Forest shifted his attention from Chuck to me when he mentioned the clause. Keeping my expression neutral, I was confident that I would not be betrayed by it. However, I was betrayed by my friend. What had made Chuck such an easy opponent when playing cards had also made him a weak ally. While my eyes remained locked with Coach Forrest, I had caught Chuck giving me a nervous glance. Coach Forrest saw the glance, as well, and gave me a satisfied grin.

While not entirely admitting defeat, I told him, "No use of tobacco products while playing on our own time at this golf course during the season, Coach."

"Better change that to within the county, J-3. You may have noticed, word does travel."

I nodded my head, while internally cursing at my foolishness. During my time at the CYA, I had been trained to blend in and appear inconspicuous. Coach Forrest was not among the players we had waved through, but apparently, one of them had commented to him about a high school student smoking on the course. While my long blond hair did make me stand out, it was most likely the Central City High baseball cap that I had worn (and was still currently wearing) that had sealed my fate. In addition, Central City was not very socially diverse, so it was quite easy for Coach Forrest to figure that the players that had been described were Chuck and I.