Chapter 1

"Look," said Hank Mahoney, banging his hand on the kitchen table. "It was the same in my day. Only then it was the draft and the Vietnam War. They had a lottery and you got a drafted number. If your number was up, you got drafted. Now it's the 'Naked in School' program. Same difference. You take your chances."

Kate Mahoney glanced at her mother across the table for support. Finding none, she tried to concentrate on the essay for her application to Columbia.

Three years ago, Hank Mahoney would have ripped out the throat of some school bureaucrat who announced that his daughter was going to parade around school naked as part of some cockamamie program of sex education, but that was before the Jihadis detonated the atomic bomb in Phoenix and the Global War on Terror got serious. First, they outlawed wearing veils in school -- which was fine because only the damn Jihadis wanted to enforce the veil. Then there was all that crap about abstinence and condoms and sex education. Who was for it and who was against it? And wasn't AIDS just a plot by the Jihadis to bring about the downfall of Western Civilization? The Program, as they called it, was a total mess since no one could figure out what it was really going to accomplish. But, hey, there was a war on, and who could afford to stand up and look unpatriotic?

The arguments got more heated after the U.S. took out Iran. The Europeans were upset that so much radioactive fallout drifted over them, and things got kind of polarized back at home. Either you're with us or against us. And who was going to side with the Jihadis against their own country? The country needed the "Naked in School" program. Everyone eventually agreed on that, just like they agreed to abolish air travel except for the military and medical emergencies.

"Did you do you physics homework, Clare?"

Jeanne Mahoney wanted to change the subject and take the spotlight off daughter Kate. Clare, a sophomore two years younger than Kate, always did her homework well before dinner.

"Yes, mother."

"Would you like some more broccoli?"

"Yes, mother. Thank you."

Sometimes it was hard to tell if Clare was being polite or just sarcastic. Too polite. Her father scowled at her for just that reason. Teenagers! That's how teenagers behaved. Even today with another nuclear crisis hanging over Korea and the schools taken over by crazy liberal fundamentalists, you could still count on teenagers to push their parents' hot buttons.

"So what if I get into Columbia?" asked Kate. "Will you guys even let me go?"

Jeanne looked at her husband. He was shaking his head -- not emphatically, but clearly enough.

"You know how high the tuition is dear," said Jeanne. "Let's see about the financial aid first. Or let's see if you get in first."

"That's not what I meant," pressed Kate. "I mean will you let me go to one of those 'ultra-liberal' schools that still has coed dorms?"

Hank Mahoney balled up the cloth napkin from his lap and through it onto the middle of the table in disgust.

"Kate, look. The world didn't come to an end when they abolished coed dorms. And it didn't come to an end in the 70's when they started to have them. So you can just give up trying to shock your dear old dad, OK?"

Kate pursed her lips while her father continued.

"The thing I'm worried about is the Middle Eastern program at Columbia. It's all over the news. One day we're going to wake up and see another Columbia protest against the war in Iran and that will be the last straw. Somebody will notice that you're at Columbia, somebody else will raise a stink at the law firm and I will lose my job. And then it won't matter how high or low the tuition is because you won't be in college. You'll be working at The Gap. And I'll be working at McDonald's."

"But that's so unfair," said Clare, picking the worst possible moment to butt into the conversation. "So what if she went to Columbia and those crazies at your office don't like the Towel Heads. That's no reason you should lose your job. It's unfair, just like the 'Naked in School' program."

Hank stormed out of the dining room without a word, stopping just to get his jacket and umbrella on his way out the front door into the rainy night. Clare took great satisfaction in having made her point. It was unfair and her father realized it even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Clare," admonished Mrs. Mahoney. "Look what you've done. And I wish you wouldn't use terms like Towel Head. It's not polite."

x.x.x.x

Kate Mahoney nearly fainted when Mr. Cappela opened the door of her social studies class, pointed at her across the classroom and summoned her outside. There were ten horrible reasons that the Assistant Principal for Discipline might pull a student directly out of class, and there were exactly zero good reasons.

Darren Cappela was actually quite handsome, a fact seldom noticed by those female students who found themselves before him for some infraction of the school rules. Up until last year he had been a prominent lawyer in a big Philadelphia firm. Kate's father knew him and said he had been one of the best litigators in town. He had given up a big salary and the virtual certainty of a partnership to join the high school branch of the Global War on Terror.

Litigator, Inquisitor. Same thing, isn't it, thought Kate in terror as she followed him to his office.

"Relax," he said, smiling warmly. "Whatever you may be worrying about, you can be assured that it has nothing to do with me calling you to my office."

Kate wanted to exhale in relief, but no sense of relaxation arose.

"I've called you here to tell you that you've been selected to work on a new Ethics Committee, Kate. Three students, three teachers and three parents. A complete review of the code of student behavior. First meeting will be Tuesday next week after school."

"But I have cello lessons on Tuesday afternoons."

"I know," answered Cappela without missing a beat. "You may have to drop cello if you can't rearrange that."

"Yes, sir."

Kate was seething with anger, but held it in. He was the Assistant Principal for Discipline and there was a war on.

"Let me tell you why you've been chosen."

He paused.

"Aren't you curious?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

Kate avoided his glance and looked around his office. She had heard that three new video cameras had been installed and that all meetings were recorded and stored digitally down at the Township police department. The system went in at the end of the last school year when two students had a fight and one of them turned out to have a gun -- an unprecedented outrage at one of the top public high schools in the state. Kate could make out two of the cameras and assumed the third was behind her, perhaps over the door to his office looking down over them.

"You've been chosen for the Ethics committee because your father is tremendously respected by the legal community. Not just here in Montgomery Township but all over the Delaware Valley."

Kate wondered what her father's job had to do with anything, but in a way it made sense. Lawyers had always been "officers of the court" as her father had explained to her from the time she was a little girl. Now, with the Global War on Terror, they had added responsibility to serve as examples to the citizenry.

"And he's not Jewish either!" Cappela laughed freely at his own remark. "You know that's a big point in his favor, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

There were too many reasons for thinking the Jews were working against the U.S. ever since the nuclear strike on Iran and the retaliatory strike by Pakistan on Tel Aviv. Americans just couldn't be too careful. Koreans were a worry too, as were all Arabs, although nobody was seriously suggesting they be rounded up. The country still had a Constitution after all.

"Let me tell you about your assignment on the committee. Everybody has a particular assignment."

"Yes, sir."

"One student is going to handle the academic honor code: homework, cheating, plagiarism, that kind of thing. Another student is going to be assigned security issues: drugs, weapons in school, searches of lockers."

"A student is going to do that?"

"That's just their specific assignment. The whole committee has to draft the final document. Don't forget that the parents and teachers will be supervising."

"I see."

Cappela paused and smiled again.

"Your assignment is going to be the 'Naked in School' program. We want to revise the booklet. Take advantage of what's being learned in some other school districts."

He let that sink in. Kate blushed.

"I picked you because you are very pretty."

The blush deepened until she felt her cheeks burning.

"You're tall. Athletic. Freckles. Not Jewish, right?" He laughed again. "With a name like Mahoney I might as well ask if you were Chinese. You're very attractive. You looked great in the musical last spring."

"I played the cello, Mr. Cappela."

"That wasn't you? The part of... I can't remember the part. I thought that was you."

"Maybe you're thinking of my sister, Clare. She had one of the leads."

"Yes, you're right." He stabbed his finger in the air. Kate pictured him making an argument in front of a jury. "That was your sister. But you're even prettier than she is. And you have this serious, intelligent look in your face. I like it."

Kate looked away.

"Kate? Now, now. Don't be difficult."

She forced herself to meet his eyes directly. If she "exhibited discomfort with social or sexual matters," the school would come down on her like a ton of bricks. There was no alternative but to brave it out.

"I apologize, sir. I'm just a little surprised."

"You're surprised that I think you're intelligent?"

"No, sir. This is my first involvement with The Program. Even indirectly. It's just new, that's all."

She felt her mouth go dry while her palms grew sweaty. Still, she forced herself to look him in the eye.

"So tell me," he said. "What ideas would you have for adapting The Program here at Montgomery High?"

"I'd have to think about it, Mr. Cappela. Maybe read the pamphlet again. Talk to some of the other people on the committee. Who else will be on it?"

"We'll be making announcements later," he said vaguely. He and the principal were still conducting interviews. The project was too important to be thrown together casually. In fact, Kate herself was only a candidate for the committee despite Cappela's statement that she had already been selected.

"Do you take The Program seriously?"

"Oh, yes sir." The earnest tone of her voice was unmistakable. "My mother and father keep remind me every day that there's a war on. We have to take it seriously. For the good of the country, I mean."

"Then why don't you have any thoughts on how you'd like to improve it?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'll be happy to work on the committee. I just think I should speak to some of the parents and teachers first."

Kate was sweating profusely now. She could feel the side of her blouse sticking to her skin below her bra.

"Miss Mahoney, you are doing college applications aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Some good schools, I hope? Intellectually challenging?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I would expect you to have you own ideas about The Program and not just parrot what you hear from other members of the committee."

"Yes, sir. I will."

"Of course, if you're coming up blank, you might want to spend a few weeks in The Program yourself. Just to generate some practical thoughts."

Kate Mahoney did not lack for friends at Montgomery High School, but that day she sat with just one other girl at lunch. Kathleen Cantor was not only a friend, but a confidant, a girl of similar intelligence and ambition trying to wend her way through the increasingly treacherous terrain of the American high school.

Kathleen gathered her long blond hair into a scrunchy as she took in the accusation that Kate had just made about Mr. Cappela. With all the controversy over The Program, if was hard to believe the school might use it come down on a particular student.

"What exactly did he say?" asked Kathleen.

"He said I 'might want to spend a few weeks in The Program.' His exact words."

"And what makes you think that's a threat?"

Kate lowered her voice. She did not want to be overheard by anyone at a nearby table.

"A few weeks? Nobody has ever had to be in The Program for more than two weeks of school, have they?"

"Did he say 'You do this OR ELSE?' And what does he want you to do? He wants you to be a student member on the Ethics Committee. It will look great on your college app's."

"It's creepy. He said he assigned me to work on the pamphlet for The Program because I was pretty. Can you fucking believe that? Pardon my French."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"He didn't say. Like I was an ornament to their committee. Or like he wanted to screw me over his desk. Jesus, I feel like I need to take a shower in Clorox after leaving his office."

"Good grief."

Kathleen was sympathetic, but there didn't seem to be anything they could do. That was Mr. Cappela's job to run stuff like the Honor code and school safety and The Program. If some of the student's didn't like it — especially the one's who might get picked for the bare ass treatment — then it was just tough luck.

"So why didn't you say something?" pressed Kathleen. "When he asked your opinion. You could have said something innocuous."

"Something stupid?"

"Who cares? Something stupid. It's better than giving him a reason to pick you for The Program."

Kate looked around nervous. A gaggle of girls had just left the table nearest them. She waited for them to move a bit further away.

"If I said something stupid, that might be exactly what he was waiting for. Just like Samantha."

Samantha Stewart was famous at Montgomery High School as the only girl to have indisputably landed herself in TP by her own stupidity and naivete. One week after the Montgomery District announced that they were signing on as part of the national war effort, Samantha offered the Principal a bit of advice in a letter to the school paper. Girls — she proclaimed — should be exempted from TP while they were having their periods.

Sam was an earnest, pretty girl. Well liked by everyone who knew her at the school. The whole school community seemed to gasp in horror when she was put on the list for TP at the start of her next period. That's the whole point, argued Mr. Cappela and Mr. Lafferty, the principal. We are a free society, "Free Society" as they put it in the New York Times op-ed piece, not a medieval theocracy like the Taliban. We don't label women as "unclean" just because of a perfectly normal biological function. We won't allow women to be treated that way. If you start hiding natural phenomena like menstruation, next thing you know we'll be asked to put up with honor killings just like the Jihadis do in Pakistan and Egypt and all across the Middle East.

And who could argue with them? Who was going to take the side of the Taliban?

So, Sam watched the days pass on the calendar from the time she was put down for TP. Twelve days before she expected her period to start and to be monitored by the school nurse. One full moon after that, when The Curse returned, she would be the main attraction at Montgomery High. Her parents made a tepid effort to get her off the list and institute a strictly random lottery system, but the Administration countered with the need to exercise it's own judgment following legal precedents set in other school districts that had undertaken TP.

Sign up sheets were posted in every class room to systematize the instruction procedure. Five days in TP with seven class periods a day, five times seven meant thirty-five of the boys in the high school would learn how to change a tampon. Up close and personal.

They followed the instructions in the tiny booklet that came in the tampon box. Sam, who was already completely bare assed, stood with one foot raised and resting on the seat of a chair. She was the first really pretty girl to do TP at MH and she made quite a sight, slender but with shapely legs and the most beautifully flared hips below her narrow waist. The guys would stand next to her, some pimply faced nerds and some muscled hunks on the wrestling team. First order of business was to fish around for the stub of the cotton string on the tampon already in place. The guys would run their fingers through her bush looking for the string, some eventually switching hands or switching position when they found it was easier to get the string from behind. Then they pulled it out displaying techniques that ranged from the delicate fear of an Army private dismantling his first IED to the exuberance of one fellow who thought he was uncorking a champagne bottle.

The insertion process was even worse. The guys went through the same drill of trying to decide which hand to use and whether to lead with an exploratory finger before shooting for the target. And then there was Asshole Astor, who was until that day an ordinary and somewhat inconspicuous freshman, who had his middle finger part way into Sam's anus before she twitched and pulled away and then guided his hand to the right hole but not before he had earned the nickname that would last him four years at Montgomery High.

In view of Sam's experience in offering helpful suggestions on how to manage TP, Kate was pretty sure she had been right in withholding any impromptu utterance with Mr. Cappela. He might be threaten her, but he had not yet condemned her and thus there was still hope. About sixteen hundred kids in the school, only twenty or twenty-five going through TP each year and Kate was already a senior. Statistically, she had a good chance of escaping unscathed.

"Just like Samantha," Kate repeated with a shiver.

Kathleen looked at her friend and reflexively pressed her thighs together at the recollection of Sam's ordeal. She had no further advice.

"He said I have to go to his office again after classes today. I'm scared stiff," admitted Kate.

"Good luck."

There was a stir at the other end of the cafeteria where a good looking and totally naked guy was passing through the line to grab a sandwich and a Coke. It was Jules Santos. Kate knew him even before he became a celebrity that very morning with the first day of a two week assignment to TP. Why did he draw two weeks? Why had anyone drawn two weeks? An unanswered question. In fact, none of the students or parents even dared to ask the Administration. Kate was certainly not going to risk her already precarious status by raising it herself.