Chapter 9

BEEPBEEP

Mark yawned, stretching, and reached over to silence the strident demand of the alarm. "Time to get up, love," he said, looking to see if she still glowed. He wasn't terribly surprised to see that she did, though faintly.

Kristen snuggled closer to him, burrowing beneath the covers. "Mmmm ... do we have to?" She blinked at him sleepily, her hair draped over half her face.

He nodded, cursing himself for his work ethic and trying to figure out if her glow would be visible in the light. As she sighed and reluctantly pushed back the covers, he was forced to conclude that it would.

"I don't think you'll be able to go to school today, love. Almost. If we had another three or four hours ... probably. But not as is."

"Oh. But ... what if it wears out during the day?" she asked worriedly.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think it will, love. Even immediately after having sex with one of the other boys, you never glowed, and they would have lasted you till I got home."

She hopped up happily. "Oh! You really think so?"

He grinned at her exuberance. "I do. Want to shower with me?"

Kristen giggled. "THat'll make you late to school, too."

He looked at the clock and sighed regretfully. "You're right. Damn."

With an impish smile, she leaned against the foot of the bed, laying back on her elbows and shaking her hair down behind her. She stretched, arching her back.

Mark stuck his tongue out at her and then stood up quickly before he gave in to her temptation. "Mean." He retreated hastily to the bathroom.

Not five minutes into his shower, the bathroom door opened and slammed and Kristen practically jumped into the shower with him.

"Love?" he asked, alarmed, as she wrapped her trembling arms around him.

"Mark ... I heard a baby crying in your closet!"

He held her, stroking her hair soothingly. "Oh, that's the ghost."

She shuddered. "It's horrible."

He squeezed her tight, in complete agreement. "Come on, get washed," he coaxed, trying to distract her, "And I'll drop you off at your house before I go to school."

Kristen sniffed, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Poor little thing."

He nodded sadly, taking the washcloth and gently soaping her still-shaking body.

She sniffed again. "Wh ... why do you think it was in the closet?" she asked, sounding as if she were terrified of actually hearing the answer.

He looked at her. "You know what happened here, love," he reminded gently.

Swallowing hard, she buried her face in his chest. "Oh, God," she whispered. "How can you live here? It's so sad..."

He hugged her tightly. "I know, love. I wish I could do something about it but ... she says I can't."

"Who says?"

"The woman. I've seen her a couple of times. She says only 'he' can release her."

"Oh. It must be her husband, then."

"I think so," Mark nodded, "But I don't know what he would have to do, though. I don't even know if he's still alive."

"What about the baby? Does he have to release it, too?"

"I'd assume so. She says he didn't believe it was his baby."

"What a bastard," she muttered heatedly.

"I have to agree." He finished washing her, letting his hands and the warm water soothe away her fears.

Still, she stayed close to him as they got ready to leave.

The drive to Kristen's house was uneventful. Though, to avoid being seen, she spent the ride crouching in the back seat. Mark didn't like it, but was unable to think of a better solution.

They pulled into the drive with a few minutes to spare. Mark reached for her hand as she slipped out the door, tugging her to his window. "Ok, love, I've got to go. I'll call you if I can. You be careful, ok?"

"I will. You'll come after school?"

"I will. If I haven't after a while, call my house, ok? In case something comes up? I can't imagine anything, but just in case..."

"Okay."

He looked at her for a few more seconds, hating the fact that he had to leave her. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Biting her lip to keep from begging him to stay, Kristen turned and ran up the walkway. She ducked into the house and Mark heard the beep as she armed the security system.

He sighed and headed to work.

The day dragged on and on and on. Mark watched Kayla sureptitiously during class that morning, worried that she might be upset or embarrassed about what happened the night before. She seemed perfectly fine, however. He should have known that the unshakable little brunette would have no regrets once she made a decision.

When the bell rang for lunch, Kayla lingered in his class room, laying her open textbook on his desk and bending over it as if asking a question about the day's lesson. "She okay?" she asked quietly.

"She's fine. I talked to her last night. She was worried that you'd be uncomfortable." He paused. "Talked to her about the polyamoury thing, too. She surprised me. Her take is that she's been in a bad 237-way relationship for three and a half years. I do think I got it through her head that it won't bother me if she falls in love with someone else."

"Ah ... o-kay," Kayla said, bemused. "I guess that is one way to look at it. So she's still not toned down enough to come to school is all?"

Mark shook his head. "We ... ah ... one more time. Mind-blowing. Unbelievable. And she was a night-light when we went to bed. If she'd had another two or three hours ... probably. But not as was."

"Hmm. That could be a problem. I mean, if the glow means she's not hungry, then she can only come out in public when she's starving? That's not fair at all."

"I think, maybe, it only shows up when she's, well, stuffed. Metaphorically speaking. And not that metaphor, Kayla, get your mind out of the gutter." He grinned. "It's blocking my periscope."

Kayla snickered. "Still ... best solution is to find some way to tone it down and keep her well-fed all the damned time. I dunno ... have to think about it. Maybe industrial strength makeup or something."

Mark nodded. "Maybe so. You'll figure out something, I'm sure."

"Me?!"

Mark nodded again, totally straight-faced. "I've got faith in you."

"Ooooooh ... maybe I AM a lesbian!"

Mark glanced around to make sure nobody could hear. The classroom was empty, everyone gone to lunch, but he still lowered his voice, "I dunno, Kayla. You sure liked my tongue on your clit last night, if you are a lesbian."

Kayla replied just as quietly, "Oh, I don't know ... using a vibrator doesn't make one mechanically inclined."

He grinned. "Touche. Still ... honestly, Kayla ... you are the best bet to figure it out. I don't know makeup. And you are probably smarter than Kristen." He paused again. "She told me something last night that made me rethink some things. Apparently, that's the first time in four years that she's been able to think without being extremely distracted. And she's still been an average student."

She looked at him oddly. "Mark, what makes you think she's an 'average' student?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Ok, no worse than average? Oh, I don't know about test scores, but she doesn't seem to be any worse than average on picking up on things. Why?"

"She's not good at math, which makes most science difficult for her. She's never made less than an A in any non-math-related class." Kayla grinned. "People would pay good money to have her write their english papers if she'd do it."

He stared at her, shocked. "My god. She was able to do that well while being that distracted?"

"Yup. Promiscuous does not equal stupid, despite common assumptions." She glared at him defensively. "I bet you couldn't do that well if you were starving to death in the middle of a gourmet restaurant!" She thought a moment about the quality of highschool boys. "Okay, a MacDonald's, anyway."

Mark nodded emphatically. "Damn straight. Good lord, just how smart is she?" he asked, voice full of wonder. "Bet she starts to get A's in math, too. How well could you do math if you were starving?"

"Depends on the math. If it's '25 term papers, multiplied by $10 each equals $175 cheeseburgers at Wanda's', pretty good." Her eyes sparkled. "Doubt she'll get A's in math, though. That she really does suck at. Always has."

"Are you going to be jealous?" he asked curiously.

Kayla wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Of what?"

"If she was doing that well, starving, she might well be smarter than you are. You've always been the smartest around here."

"Oh, that. So? Besides, I am good at math. Wish she'd relax about those English papers, though, talk about booooooring."

She grinned slightly, and Mark chuckled, not entirely sure she was joking. "Just checking. Are you coming over tonight?"

"Can't," Kayla answered with a disgusted snort. "Mom's got a hair up her ass. 'You're never home anymore, we never have dinner anymore, let's watch a movie, you never talk to me!' Blech. So I've got to be familial tonight. There will probably be... " She shuddered, "Smores."

Mark surpressed a laugh. "Too bad. Maybe tomorrow or Sunday?"

"I fucking hope so. I hate family togetherness. Not that I don't love em, don't get me wrong, but inevitably, she and Aunt Ellen will want to Do Something With Kayla's Hair. And then they'll bring out the Makeup Kit of Doom." The capital letters dropped into place like lead weights. "Life sucks."

He smirked. "But I bet you'd love to have Kristen Doing Something with your hair -- not like that, either! I heard that!"

"Heh. Well, not if it involves an iron or hair spray, thanks. Gotta run, food is one of those necessary things."

"Bye." Mark followed her out, heading to his car to call Kristen on his cellphone.

As Mark pulled up to Kristen's house after school, he was surprised to see another car pulling into the long drive. Black. Expensive.

He uttered a soft, but heartily felt, "Fuck," as he cut the engine and opened the door. Thinking quickly, he strides up the stairs and rings the doorbell as if he hadn't seen the other car. When it was close enough to the house that the engine noise was impossible to miss, he turned, a carefully neutral expression on his face.

A tall, handsome man with reddish brown hair emerged from the car. "Hello?" he called. "Can I help you?" He took the stairs energetically, almost bouncing.

Mark smiled inquisitively. "Ah, would you be Mr. Davis?"

"Yes, I'm Steven Davis, and you are?" He held out his hand.

Mark took the proferred hand and shook it firmly. "Mark Hasseran. I'm one of your daughter's teachers at school. I was actually hoping to talk to you."

Steven tapped out a code on the panel by the door. "Ah, okay. C'mon in. I'm just getting home from a long business trip. School called and said Kristen had called in sick again, so I wrapped things up early. She must be asleep or she'd have answered the door."

Steven led him into the living room. "Have a seat Mr. Hasseran. Something to drink?"

Mark nodded. "Please." He sat on the sofa, trying not to appear too nervous.

"Beer, soda, this nasty oversweetened fruit juice stuff my daughter likes?" Steven asked, "Or is it a straight vodka on the rocks kinda problem?"

"Probably," Mark answered ruefully. "I've ... well, to be honest, Mr. Davis, I'd prefer not to be having this talk with you, but Dr. Ward has seniority, so he gets to dump it off on me."

Kristen's father frowned at that, pouring two generous drinks. He handed one to Mark and took a seat across from him. "Call me Steven. Go ahead and spit it out, I won't shoot the messenger."

Mark studied the drink in his hand reflectively. "Mr. Davis -- Steven, I'm not trying to be offensive here, but I'm not going to beat around the bush, either. I'm a blunt kind of man. It's about your daughter's sex life. You know she was promiscuous, yes?"

Steven's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm her father, not her jailer, Mr. Hasseran. She's a smart girl and knows how to be safe."

"Ah. Yes, she is, and I'm sure she does. But ... well, starting Monday, something changed. She started telling the boys no. All of them." He paused, watching for a reaction.

Steven paled and set his drink on the table abruptly. "Excuse me for a moment, I'd like to check on my daughter," he said, a bit too fast. He hopped from the couch and hurried up the stairs. "Kristen! Kris, honey? Are you up there?"

Mark nodded to himself at the frightened tinge to Steven's voice. "Thought so," he murmured quietly.

"Daddy? You're home early. I was asleep." Kristen appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and rubbing her eyes sleepily. Mark noted, with some relief, that she was no longer glowing. "That's okay, sweetheart." Steven smiled lovingly at his daughter, visibly relaxing. "I came home because the school said you were sick. You go on back to bed."

"I think I will. Did you win?"

"Sure did, hon. Don't I always? You feeling okay? Vanessa said you looked all right when she left you tuesday..."