Chapter 23: Grounded

Kennedy walked from the jet to where Mr. Glastonbury patiently waited for her. Annie was standing by the car, her attention in every direction but hers.

"Welcome home, Miss Kennedy," her tutor said politely.

"Am I welcome?"

"Of course. I admit to being disappointed, Miss Kennedy. And if I were to characterize the extent of the disappointment, I would have to say I'm 'gravely disappointed.' You made a mistake, right?"

"Yes, sir. I nearly got four of my friends killed."

"Not the first time, though, was it?"

"No, sir."

"Well, you have to understand Slayers are always a work in progress. I don't know if there's ever been a Slayer who didn't lose any fights ... but if there ever was, I'm sure the reason she's not remembered is that she died soon after her selection."

"I still don't deal well with magic and spells; that stuff just makes my head spin. It's like I know they exist now, but I sniff in derision."

"Well, this should have resulted in your learning otherwise. Miss Kennedy, you need to get in the car."

She did, sitting in the back. Mr. Glastonbury and Annie rode up front, which, given the situation, nearly reduced Kennedy to tears.

They arrived at the house and Mr. Glastonbury shouldered one of her bags and Annie the other. "Miss Kennedy, your father will be here first thing in the morning. He wants to talk to you," Mr. Glastonbury told her.

She nodded numbly, went right up to her bed and collapsed on it. In the morning she woke early and took Lady Kennedy from her suitcase and spent two hours practicing with her.

Then Annie appeared and dipped in a curtsey. "Miss Kennedy, your father will be here in a half hour. You'll want to shower and change."

"Annie, both of us are behaving like we're walking on tacks. I swear, you don't have to."

She shrugged. "Tacks for you, high explosives for me. I am supposed to limit myself to 'professional' exchanges with you."

"Fine, be professional." Kennedy couldn't keep the hurt from her voice. The problem about good deeds and all of that was they didn't get you laid.

She walked into her father's study and he waved her into the arm chair. "Good morning, Kennedy."

"Morning, sir."

He smiled thinly. "We need to talk."

"I understand, sir."

"It's still Pete, Kennedy."

"Do you want Victoria to call you Pete?"

"No, of course not. You, Kennedy, are very nearly a professional peer. Victoria will never earn enough to pay for her credit cards."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Not exactly. Look, I don't want to mince words with you. You aren't a child, not by any means, but that doesn't mean I don't expect you to be in bed by ten, and to keep away from boys."

"The last, Pete, no problem."

He laughed. "Boys and girls. Kennedy, one of the most important lessons you learn when you start bossing people is that you have to be fair, but you also can't ignore reality. The reality here is that you are far beyond what any rational person would expect from a girl your age. Once upon a time I sought to exploit that, but you simply ignored me."

"Pete, I never noticed."

He laughed. "I suspected that. When I was a boy I read a lot of science-fiction. There was a book by John Brunner called The Long Result. In it, an alien visiting Earth had survived a commercial airliner crash. The hero thanked the alien profusely for his help with the injured survivors, then marveled at the alien's lack of desire to wreak vengeance on the terrorists who'd brought the plane down.

"It's a line that will stay with me until I die. 'When you are effectively invulnerable, you can afford to be magnanimous.'"

He smiled at the memory. "At the end of the book the hero realizes the alien, thought to be an agrarian farmer on a primitive planet, is anything but a farmer. He was, as I recall, a scientist, studying humanity. He was bio-engineered by his species for the niche he'd been in.

"That's who you are, Kennedy.

"There was another thing, too. Kenekito-madual. A nugget of truth. You, Kennedy, have access to more kenekito-maduals than I do. I recognize that. So please, one of the reasons we are here today is to discuss what we can do to stop the government's intrusion into your affairs."

"Is part of your concern about their possible intrusion into yours?"

"Of course. And your mother's, your sister's, and those of Mr. Glastonbury and Miss Brown. Everyone is involved, Kennedy."

"I'm sorry, sometimes I get so wrapped up..." She spread her hands.

"You're trying to stay alive, Kennedy. You're trying to stay a decent, sane human being. I've had this explained to me by someone other than Mr. Glastonbury. You know him. Ferinc."

"He's unusual," Kennedy said.

"Yes. And then there is Pipes. He says he admires you, because he was sure you'd use his friend's name in vain -- but you never have."

"I did use his notoriety."

"That is simple politeness, Kennedy. You were trying to give the king and that girl's father a chance to back down with grace. You have to understand that what happened was by far the more likely outcome of such a thing. Such people would never have started such a project if they were easily dissuaded."

"I know. But I can't hurt people."

"Mr. Glastonbury is a man of many talents. It's clear, however, that he thinks you skated the outskirts of the rules."

"I didn't break any rules."

"I don't think you did either, nor does Mr. Glastonbury. However, we aren't the only ones whose opinions matter. The White Plains police detective Harrison will be here after lunch. He's been asking questions and found out about Detroit."

"I'll take care of it," Kennedy said, trying to sound confident.

"Yes, I'm sure you will. But there is a problem we have; that Mr. Glastonbury and I both share. We're concerned about your desire to rush into rash decisions. Both of us feel that this is a sign of a fundamental immaturity; one that we're sure can be overcome by you easily -- when you're older.

"Therefore, Mr. Glastonbury and I have come to the conclusion that for now, you are grounded. You have become reckless. Yes, you are confident in your abilities, yes, your confidence appears to be well-founded, but there have been too many hair's-breadth escapes."

"There's someone I want to see in New York."

"No."

The single word hung naked and unadorned in the room.

"Pete, I've done some things on my own, although I've tried to consult with older, wiser heads first. Some of you encourage me a little here, a little there."

"And you're using that against us," he told her. "It's true I'm not a good parent, but that doesn't mean I haven't read books on parenting. You are trying to play us all off against each other, taking the results you like best, and ignoring the rest of us.

"One year, Kennedy. You are grounded for a year."

"I'm going to school in White Plains. If I have to run away and live on the streets, that's where I'm going to go."

"Okay. You can talk to your friends on the phone, by email or at school. I want you to look me in the eye and promise me there will be no sex for a year. There will be no further contacts with Pipes or any of those like him or Ferinc, or any of those like him, either."

Kennedy's jaw dropped. "No."

"Kennedy, do you understand that I could ask a few questions, get a few names, then go into any child welfare court in the country and get you committed to an institution? You've had how many lovers?"

She lifted her chin.

He smiled. "I never expected an answer ... but in that court you'd have to lie or face being committed for a lot longer than a year. And we would have to ask questions, under oath, of those people who are your friends."

"Pete, this isn't a good place to go. No."

From behind her she heard a soft movement she turned and looked over her shoulder and saw Mr. Glastonbury.

"Miss Kennedy, the Watchers Council has dealt with potentials and Slayers for a very long time. They have chemical preparations that will simply strip you of all of your advantages. If you don't obey, you'll go to a hospital and those drugs will be used."

Kennedy made fists, her fingernails, short as they were, cut into her palms.

She spoke carefully. "You are making a huge mistake. You are telling me that you don't trust me. The logical reverse of that is that I can't trust you. You will always think you hold a trump over my actions. That's not true."

"Miss Kennedy," Mr. Glastonbury, "the Watchers Council wants you stripped of your powers. This is a palatable alternative."

"Palatable to who? You? Them? You, Pete? I'm not stupid. I have no desire to go into a hospital. I have no desire to lose that which makes me who I am.

"So, yes, I'll agree, if you insist. If you insist, from this day forward, I'll say your names and spit. The first moment I can win my freedom, I will. And I will never, ever, trust you again. Not you, Pete, not you, Mr. Glastonbury, and never ever those idiots you call a 'Watchers Council.'"

"Miss Kennedy, you are a loose cannon," Mr. Glastonbury told her. "I know you think you can deal with these things on your own, but you can't."

"And if I was the Slayer, then what?" she said bitterly.

"You would have more leeway. Slayers are always given a great deal of slack. But, as the one Slayer in Sunnydale found out, it's not a bottomless well. At a certain point, the Council draws the line. That Slayer is a vegetable in a mental hospital today."

"Last year at camp, I learned a little about soccer. I learned a little more this year," Kennedy told them. "This is called an 'own goal.' Where you score a goal against yourself."

"Kennedy, you need to grow up some more," her stepfather said. "This is for your own good."

"If you say that one more time, the only way you'll be able to stop me from leaving this room will be lethal force. And I won't be gentle either, because all bets and restraints will be off. You want to put me in a cage and tame me. You're both fools if you think a lion changes spots in a cage."

"You're hysterical," he told her. "Please, Kennedy, you're demonstrating why this is necessary."

"And if I told you that you had to follow rules like this, you'd be just peachy keen with them, right?" Kennedy remonstrated.

"I'm an adult, with an adult's experience."

"How many times have you died, father? I've died three times. How many times have you had to kill something? I've killed six vampires. One I walked up to, held him down and shoved a table leg through his chest."

She watched them. "What? No comments? I was hoping for comments," she told them. "I could become a Slayer in the next second. Then what?"

"Kennedy, look me in the eye and agree," her stepfather demanded.

Kennedy snorted. "You don't understand, do you?"

"I understand that you are nearly unhinged, that you've become wild and, I think, a little self-destructive."

Kennedy turned to Mr. Glastonbury. "And you? What do you think?"

"Miss Kennedy, there are rules. You have to follow the rules."

"And when have I ever not followed them? You talk about me skirting the rules ... haven't you? You told me you had. You knew about Annie, too ... skirted that rule, didn't you? Did you tell the Council everything about Annie? Eh?"

He looked away. "The Council has decreed this. I cannot do anything about it."

"Fine. Tell your Watchers Council that I quit. They can ask for the time of day and I'll laugh at them. I'll accept being grounded; I will do as you say for a year. Then I'll be fifteen. That day I'll start work on getting emancipated. If that fails, the day I turn seventeen, I'm out of here. Fuck you all."

"Why don't you run away now?" Pete asked.

"I'm fourteen, moron! They'd send me back to you instantly! And what could I do, eh? Go to Pipes and get work as a button man? Sure! If either of you had the brains of a gnat, you know that's not in the cards."

"The question was will you abide by the rules as they will be laid out?" her father said evenly.

"What, are you deaf as well as stupid? How many times do I have to say I will? That does beg the question, though, if you didn't understand that simple yes, what do you understand about my leaving, and that I'm not ever going to pay attention to either of you again once the year is up?"

"In a year, Kennedy," her stepfather told her, "I expect you'll have matured a lot and have a better grasp of these things."

"In a year, I suspect you will have a lot better grasp of my meaning than I have of yours." Kennedy spun on her heel and started for the door.

"I have an agreement for you to sign," Pete told her.

"Sure," she said, turning back.

It was, she saw with disgust, nearly a dozen single-spaced typewritten pages. She read through it, with the two men standing silent, watching her. She finished it and laughed.

"No. Either parts of this are negotiable, or you'd better get the straight-jacket ready right this second."

She saw it in his eyes. So, they were ready, right this second.

"What?" her father asked.

"This part about Mr. Glastonbury. You can hire him for any reason you want. He will not, however, ever tutor me in anything, ever again. Like I said, White Plains High is non-negotiable."

She X'd out several paragraphs.

"Anything else?" her father asked resignedly.

"You have the year ending tomorrow. Today is part of this year. So it ends on yesterday's date next year, at the time you first told me of my grounding."

"Okay," he told her. She made a couple of notations.

"You have me swearing off sex. I want to add a paragraph saying that neither you, Mr. Glastonbury, or any agents of yours or his will ever monitor me in my private room. I fully intend to masturbate and I don't intend to be a running joke with the hired help. Nor do I want to see the film running on the TV news or on the Internet."

Her stepfather recoiled in surprise. "I suppose."

"You suppose? Yes or no? Where have I heard that lately?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that you have every right to terminate the agreement if I violate the terms?" she asked.

"Of course."

"And I reserve the right to do the same if you do as well."

"You?"

"Yes, me. You're setting limits on my behavior. If you don't agree to limits on yours, the deal's off."

He sat staring at her. Kennedy suppressed her desire to tell him that he was still free to pull out of this folly.

He wrote on the last page of the contract, two paragraphs. "On severability," he told her. She read it and nodded. She went through and initialed the changes, then signed it.

He signed it, and started to pull it away. Kennedy swooped down and picked it up. "This is my copy," she told him.

"It's mine," he insisted.

She laughed. "I'll stand here and you can run a copy over there," she pointed to a copier in one corner of his office. "I'll still take the original."

He laughed. "My, my! No one is going to have to teach you much about business or negotiating!"

"Pete, I'll be the first to admit I don't know everything. I thought I was being well-taught. Now I find it was all a sham, baubles handed out for good behavior. Now, I'll find my own way. And if that way isn't what you would have preferred, reflect on this day, when you could have kept your say, had you just kept control of yourself."

"Kennedy you are still so young ... so vulnerable..."

"Once again: how many vampires have you killed? When was the last time you turned back a magic attack? A world class hypnotist?"

His face hardened. Hers did too.

She turned and Mr. Glastonbury went to block her path. She dumped him casually on the floor without effort, spat in his face and kept going.

She went to her room, locked the door, buried her head under her pillow and cried.

The tears lasted about five minutes, then she realized she was making their case.

She sat up, pulled her phone to her and called Harriet and explained the new rules. Harriet sighed. "You know me, Kennedy. That's what it's been like that here since New Year's."