Chapter 5

It wasn't the blood that freaked out James. Intellectually she expected the shock, and was prepared for it. It wasn't the cramps either, although they were a bitch and a half, creasing her lower stomach like a vise. No, the part about having her period that really pissed James off, was having to borrow a maxi-pad from her mother.

Anne's smile at the request had been strange, half a smile and half a look of concern. Whatever thoughts were going through her head, she immediately dragged James down to the nearest drugstore and plunked a large pack of the items on the counter. The clerk seemed to pay no attention, either to the items or to James' bright red features.

"Pee emm ess? There's no such thing. There's just a human being in fucking pain." James thought to herself as she changed the pad in her underwear. The blood had stopped flowing as much, since it was now three days since the pad shopping trip. Being on the rag was not something James had enjoyed, since it felt like she was wearing diapers. However, despite her mother's suggestion that a tampon might feel better, she was opposed to the idea. The idea of anything inside her was abhorrent.

Finishing up in the bathroom, James washed her hands and walked out to the main room. Anne was there, packing a few last items into a small black purse that was totally different from the standard one that she usually carried. She was dressed to go out, in a long green dress that was perfectly coordinated with the light sweater that she wore over it.

James recalled that it was her mother and Randall's anniversary tonight. They had gone out every year on this date for the last four years. She was surprised however, to note that Randall was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Randall?" James asked his mother, who turned exposing her perfectly made up features.

"He's meeting me at the restaurant." Anne explained, picking up her keys. "Now, I really want to thank you for watching Elaine and Julie tonight."

"It's not like I have somewhere else to be, mom." James shrugged. With her trip to college only a week away, James had spent most of her recent time either playing the guitar, walking around the nicer parts of town, or packing. "Where are they, anyway?"

"They're in Elaine's room. Now, make sure they're in bed by eleven and no calling boys and asking them over." Anne cautioned.

"Not a problem mom. The last thing I want is a fourteen year old boy in this house."

"Have fun!" Anne called back as she closed the door behind herself. James watched out the window as her mother started up the station wagon and backed out of the driveway. She noted that Randall's work truck was still present, so he must have taken the smaller pickup.

The house was quiet, James noted, except for the faint sound of music from her sister's room. That was to be expected, since Elaine and Julie were heavily into music of almost every kind.

Guitar. James first impulse was to race up to her room and crank the volume to maximum. Since she had gotten the instrument, her mother had consistently praised her for the amount she practiced, but had also cautioned her that the volume needed to be lower. James had always been a member of the "If it's too loud, yer too old" school of guitar playing, and keeping the volume at one had grated considerably.

"Not like Elaine's gonna complain." James snickered, pulling the amp down the stairs. Her room was private, but the acoustics sucked. The main room, with its high ceiling and numerous reflective surfaces. Well, James had loved the sound during her all too brief concert, and not taking advantage of the opportunity would be idiotic.

"These go up to eleven..." James snickered in a faux British rock star voice as she adjusted the volume knob on the amplifier to a solid eight. That was enough volume to really rock out, but not so much that the windows would rattle.

What to play, what to play? She'd gotten most of her virtuoso stuff out of her system over the last few days, and what she really felt like playing was something different. Yasonori Mitsuda.

Mitsuda was not exactly a composer taught by the conservatories. In fact, most of his best work wouldn't be out until ninety-seven. What was incredible about his work was that it wasn't usually acknowledged outside of Japan, at least as good music. Video games had never been something that you generally looked to for symphonies.

James started slow, with a piece that was usually played on an acoustic guitar. It consisted mostly of a few notes, with an occasional chord thrown in. James half wished that he had a flute player here, so he didn't have to work the melody as well as the bass line. It just felt so good to kick back and play.

Her fingers still hurt, but over the past few days James had grown accustomed to the pain. Compared to menstrual cramps, a little pinching on her fingertips was nothing. There hadn't been any repeats of the bloody fingers incident...

With that, James snickered, and changed tempo. This new piece had some strong Indian influence, sounding almost as if it should be played on a sitar. The chords were not typically western, being mostly in minor key, and rapidly switching from high to low. Heck, it worked for the Beatles.

"Did you make that up, Maggie?" Julie's voice from the hallway wasn't as distracting as Randall's had been a few days previously. James grinned, and turned, continuing to play as she did so. Julie and Elaine stood in the doorway, listening to her play. The expression on their faces was one of amusement. They actually looked like they were enjoying the impromptu concert.

"Naah, heard it somewhere." James stated, flicking her hair back with one hand after a powerful chord. There was really no way to explain that the person who wrote it hadn't written it yet.

"Told ya she was good." Elaine said, leading Julie over to the couch. Elaine leaned back as she sat down, while Julie tucked her bare feet under herself. Neither of the girls wore shoes, and seemed to be a bit underdressed.

"Yeah, but I thought you meant like good for somebody who'd just picked up a guitar. Hey, Maggie, you know any Bon Jovi?" Julie split her comment between the two sisters, finishing with a pleading gesture towards James.

"Don't have the right pedal to do Sambora." James shrugged, as she slipped into the opening notes of one of the bands more popular songs. That was something she would need if she actually wanted to play in a band. Right now, she was happy with what she was doing.

"What's a pedal?" Asked Elaine, a puzzled look coming across her face.

"Lets you do different sounds." James explained, accelerating the pace of her playing. Say what you will about Jon Bon Jovi's song writing talent, his guitar player was a HARD act to do. With injured fingers it was even more difficult, since Sambora had a nasty tendency to work the strings with his fingers rather than using the vibrato.

After finishing the song, James realized that if she played anymore, she would probably cut open her fingers again. Wrapping her fingers was an option, but she thought that a little healing time would probably be best.

"Sorry, girls, the artist must rest." James laughed, turning off the amplifier.

"Aww, why do you have to stop?" Julie sighed, a bit disappointed.

"Fingers hurt." James explained wiggling her digits at the pair on the couch.

"Why?" Elaine asked, not really comprehending.

"Look," James said, bringing her guitar over to where the two girls sat, "Press against this string here." James gestured to the neck of her guitar.

Elaine and Julie both took turns pressing the string against the neck.

"Oh, I see, it makes a line on your finger." Julie said, examining the red mark on her own hand.

"Yeah, now imagine how that feels after you do it a few hundred times."

"Oww, that must hurt." Elaine remarked, looking at her own red mark. "Can I see?"

James shrugged, turning her fingertips over so that the girls could see the darker color of her finger tips, where the blood had rushed close to the surface. Her one finger was still taped, since the injury hadn't completely healed.

"So, does it always hurt to play?" Julie asked, looking at James with sympathy in her eyes.

"No, not after you get used to it." James explained, "I've just been playing a lot recently."

"Oooh, I know Maggie! You need a manicure!" Elaine crowed.

"Hah? What?" James asked, having turned back and unplugged her guitar.

"That's a great idea! I bet Maggie's never had her nails done!" Julie grinned at Elaine, then turned to James.

"Thanks, but no thanks." James shrugged, pulling the amplifier towards the hallway.

"Aww, c'mon Maggie!" Elaine sighed. "I think it'd look great."

"I'm more of a Joan Jett than a Wilson sister, sis. Thanks anyway." James laughed. It was sweet, in a way, for Elaine and Julie to try to be so nice.

"C'mon! We'll even let you pick the colors!" Elaine offered, her eyes sparkling.

"How many ways can I say no?" James groaned, abandoning the amplifier at the doorway.

"Don't you want to?" Elaine asked, her voice taking on a softer, disappointed tone.

"You two really want me to? Huh?"

"YEAH!" the pair on the couch shouted in unison. The twin smiles gave James the distinct impression that they had already planned this.

It's like having a life size Barbie to Elaine, James thought. Well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. The irony of that thought was not lost on James as she nodded her assent.

"All right, but I pick the color." James cautioned.

"One of em, at least!" Julie giggled, standing up and racing towards Elaine's room.

"Just wait here!" Elaine grinned from ear to ear as she started after her friend.

James decided that it would take them several minutes to get everything together and hurriedly schlepped the guitar and amplifier back up to her room. She returned to the living room just in time to see the girls returning: Julie with a small bag, and Elaine with a little basket.

"Ok, pick a color!" Elaine proffered the basket to James, and he noted at least thirty different nail polishes within. The sheer array of colors was staggering.

"Uh, gimme a minute." James pawed through the endless array of pinks and other pastel bottles, trying to find something that didn't look too outlandish. She was on the verge of telling Elaine that this was probably a bad idea when she noted a small bottle at the bottom in a deep blue-grey. It was probably the best option among the colors available, and James plucked it out of the bottom of the basket with a shrug.

"Here." she handed the little container to Elaine without ceremony.

"Ewww..." Julie recoiled when she saw the bottle. "Booooring."

"I've never used this one." Elaine observed, twisting the top of the cap and breaking a small plastic seal at the bottom. "Grandma sent it to me."

That figured. Grandma Abbie had never been very girly, and the attitude had colored her every gift to Elaine. James momentarily wondered if her mother had told Grandma about her transformation. There was something that would probably go over like a lead dirigible.

"So, what do I do now?" James asked, standing there a bit uncertain.

"Have a seat, and give me your hand." Elaine commanded.

James snickered at the imperialistic tone her little sister had lapsed into, and took a seat on the couch. Melodramatically, she extended her right hand with a limp wrist, as if waiting for some suitor to grab and kiss it. Both of the younger girls giggled at the affectation.

"Stop it, Maggie!" Elaine laughed, grabbing the extended hand in one of hers and pulling it down wards. She fished for a moment in the small bag that Julie had brought, before yanking out an Emory board.

"I get the other hand!" Julie squealed, sitting on the floor next to the couch and grasping James' free hand.

The next few moments were slightly painful. Despite the care that the two girls took in carefully filing at James' nails, there was really no way that they could avoid causing some slight pain to her well worn fingertips. James watched as the boards moved, in the same direction with one edge, before being flipped and moved in small quick motions with the other, finer grained side. It was sweet really, of his sister to do this for her. The sheer amount of concentration on the younger girls' faces was amazing as they carefully shaped each nail.

With a smile, Elaine finished her hand, and reached for the polish. Very carefully, she applied the dark color to each of James' nails in turn, carefully avoiding the skin. When she had finished, she handed the bottle to Julie who did the exact same thing on the other hand. After a few more minutes, the process was complete.

"Whaddya think?" Elaine asked, as James curled her fingers to stare at the nails.

"Uhm, thanks." James said, not really understanding the point. Yeah, her nails were colored now, but they were just nails. There was really no point to this, since she would just wear it away on guitar strings.

"Don't you want us to varnish them?" Julie asked as James got ready to stand up and leave.

"Uh, oh, sorry." James aborted her motion and extended her hands to the girls, who began to work once again, this time with a clear polish.

James was trying to relax, and was doing a pretty good job of it, when she heard the front door opening. She turned her head, to see Randall opening it. His expression was one of indifference, which was about typical. The only time that James had ever seen an emotion on Randall's face, he was usually laughing at someone.

"Hey, Randall." James called back towards the door. "Yer home early."

Randall merely grunted at the comment, his gaze taking in the room. He noted the activity that was currently going on, and a smirk crossed his features.

"Hey James. Love your nails." Randall spat the taunt at James.

"Thank you." James' response wasn't genuine, but it was the most mature thought that was running through his mind. He pulled his hands back from Elaine and Julie, smiling an apology.

"Thanks, I think I'll call it a night." James foremost desire was to just get out of Randall's sight.

"Notice yer not wearing one of your skirts, Jimmy. Too bad, you look good in 'em." The tone of Randall's comments was not typical. Had he been drinking or something, James wondered.

"Whatever." James sighed, walking towards the hallway. She could feel Randall's eyes on her once again. Her skin crawled as she realized that she could almost tell exactly what he was thinking. The best option for her right now was to go to her room and lock the door.

"Isn't mom with you?" Elaine asked Randall in an oblivious tone.

"No. She's still at the restaurant." Randall's tone left no doubt in James' mind as to what had happened. A fight. Probably a big one, to judge from the fact that Randall was home early, and alone.

James didn't hear the rest of the conversation, since she was rapidly moving out of earshot. She ascended the stairs to her room, and quickly entered, locking the door behind her. She noted with some dismay exactly how fast her heart was beating. Randall wouldn't have...

James realized that she really didn't know what Randall could have been capable of, and she had left Elaine and Julie down there to deal with him. She closed her eyes, trying to decide what to do. If she went down there right now, she'd be the target of whatever hostility that Randall might summon. If she didn't Elaine and Julie would be.

Randall liked Elaine. Elaine liked Randall. He would never hurt her, James kept telling herself. Julie, well, she's fourteen, for Christ's sake. Randall might be an asshole, but child molestation wasn't his style. He doesn't see you as a child, James' mind berated her. With you, if he were out of it enough, he might try something. Especially after a fight with Anne. Don't go down there.

For the next several hours, James sat right next to the door, listening in fear. She dreaded the possibility of Randall knocking on her door, or hearing a scream from downstairs. Every possible nightmare scenario ran through her head, ranging from the probable, to the truly outlandish. It was a welcome relief to hear the sounds of Anne's car pulling in to the driveway around eleven thirty.

Unable to contain her relief, James unlocked her door, and raced downstairs, moving through the nearly silent house. She guessed that Randall had gone to bed, and Julie and Elaine as well. She moved to the front door, flipping on the outside lights as she did so. The sight of a tired, but smiling Anne walking towards the front door greeted her eyes.

James opened the door for her tired mother as she breezed into the house. She smiled at James, dropping her purse on a table near the front door.

"Were the girls any trouble?" Anne asked casually, as she doffed her sweater.

"No. Mom, what happened?" James cut to the chase, since direct questioning seemed to be the best of all possible options.

"I ran into some friends. Randall wasn't having much fun with us, so he left." Anne's explanation was simple, but it was very obvious to James that she was leaving out something.

"Mom, uh, he didn't seem too happy when he came home." James tried, diplomatically. The last thing she needed to do was to anger her mother.

"Well, it was our anniversary and I suppose I was being a little selfish." Anne said, equally diplomatic. "Why, did he say something to you?"

No, but you just did mom, James thought. What Anne wasn't saying was written across her face in the way that she looked at James. They had fought, and it had been about her.

"No." James stated. "But I didn't feel very comfortable being alone in the house with him."

"Maggie," sighed Anne, moving towards the kitchen. "If you don't feel comfortable being in the same house as a man, maybe..."

"No mom, it's not men that I'm not comfortable with, it's him." James interrupted her mother with a sharper tone than she expected to use. "Seriously, have you seen the way he looks at me sometimes?"

"Maggie, you are very beautiful. He's not trying to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Mom, would you like it if a man stared at your breasts constantly? Randall does it to me all the time!" James explained. She would have preferred another time to bring this up, but striking while the iron was hot seemed appropriate.

"He is NOT staring at your breasts, Maggie." Anne's reply was tinged with an emotion that James didn't quite get. "He is your step- father."

"All I can say is thank God I'm leaving next week." James sighed.

"What do you mean by that?" Anne asked, a bit perturbed.

"Nothing." James turned to leave.

"Oh no, you don't get to make a comment like that and just walk away, Margaret James Fletcher. If you have something to say about Randall, you can just say it to my face." Anne's voice stopped James in her tracks. She inhaled deeply before turning and addressing her mother.

"Fine. Your husband has been looking at me like I was a side of beef. I don't care if you don't see it, I do. If he so much as touches me..."

"He wouldn't do that." Anne interrupted her daughter with a dismissive gesture. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"WHAT? NO!" The mere thought of Randall touching her was enough to make her nauseous. How could her mother think that?

"It's perfectly natural for girls to fall in love with..." Anne continued, a small smile crossing her face.

"You may be in love with him, but I am NOT, Mother." James growled. "He has done nothing but mock me since this all began."

"And you think that it's cute, don't you?" Anne's confident smile infuriated James. "I bet you even had that Vee Ess bag out on purpose, that one time."

"What, is that what he told you?"

"No, but he and I both suspect that you've been coming on to him a little." So that had been what the argument had been about. James' stomach roiled at the thought of flirting with Randall.

"Mother, that is thirty one flavors of disgusting."

"Do you want to sit down and talk about the feelings that you're having?" Anne's voice had taken on a condescending tone.

"I give up. You don't see it, or you won't see it, Mom. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed."

"You're just confused, Maggie." Anne finished as James stalked away. She was infuriated that her mother could look at the situation and see it from the completely wrong angle.

There was a lesson here, somewhere.

James inhaled deeply as she broke the surface of the water. The hotel pool that she was in was large enough to make underwater swimming fun. It had been one of her favorite things to do as a young man, and as a woman it had lost none of its charm. She made a mental note to take scuba diving lessons this time through. It had been something that she had always planned on, but had never found the time before.

She rolled backwards, floating on her back. The tiled ceiling of the roof was a fairly nice view, and gave her time to reflect. After two days of being stuck in a car with Randall, she was ecstatic to have some time to herself. Northern Oregon wasn't perfect, but at least they had a nice hotel.

One day until rush. That's what she had to keep reminding herself. It wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to, since her last experience with it had been a total disaster. Of course, she had only been a dweeby guy back then.

She glanced down at her body, encased in the dark blue bikini. For the first time, she had decided to throw caution to the wind and try wearing it alone. It was fairly late at night after all, and the pool was pretty much deserted. It was an indoor pool, to boot.

She stretched an arm over her head, beginning a leisurely backstroke. The water was a nice cool temperature, which was a welcome relief from the heat of the day. During the car ride up, she had sat in the cargo area of the station wagon, since it was the only place in the car where she could stretch her legs out fully. Anne had protested only feebly, but relented when she noted exactly how long the ride would be.

Reaching the far side of the pool, James flipped her legs over her head to push off. The increase in speed and the shift in direction was fun, and she shifted to a rapid paced freestyle. Arm over arm she swam for a few meters, before dipping her head below the water and changing to a breast stroke. Her feet fluttered wildly as she aimed for the bottom of the pool, and then glided over it, her eyes wide and scanning. She couldn't see too far, since she wasn't wearing goggles, but the experience of being underwater was always a pleasant one.

Finally reaching the end of her breath, James pushed off the bottom of the pool heading for the surface. Her head broke the water again, and she breathed the sweet air. She wiped a few loose strands of hair out of her face as she treaded water towards the small ladder out of the pool. She ascended, water dripping from everywhere.

Two days on the road. Sharing a room with Elaine hadn't been too bad, with the only exception being that she had insisted on putting on MTV almost the entire night. At least they were still playing music videos occasionally. James was positive that she would have gone insane on a steady diet of reality TV. Randall had been quiet too. She wasn't sure why, but he had merely concentrated on the road, and left the talking to Anne and Elaine. It was a welcome relief since it had given her time to read.

Rush. James' thoughts returned to it as she settled herself into the small hot tub at one end of the pool. It was nice, the jets massaging her skin deliciously. Now this was something she remembered liking as a guy. It was nice to see that at least one thing hadn't changed. She closed her eyes and thought about why Anne was insisting on rush.

Anne had never been in a sorority, and so had obviously totally gone for the propaganda that they were a nice, safe, structured environment. James knew differently from her earlier college experience, but no matter how she had cajoled her mother, she would hear nothing of it. In James' experience, the sororities at U of I were nothing more than dating services for the fraternities. Since sororities weren't allowed to have co-ed parties with alcohol, guess where all the sorority girls had generally spent their weekends. With over fifteen fraternities, and only nine sororities there was never a shortage of parties.

Safety. Anne was a tad naive sometimes, since her own college experience had been spent camping. It was the sixties, James reminded herself, and there was a war on. Sororities had probably represented a kind of ivory tower to her mother. How times had changed.

"Hey, this seat taken?" Randall's voice cut through the internal monologue that James had been enjoying. She opened her eyes to see her stepfather standing next to the hot tub, dressed in nothing more than a Speedo. She didn't know how long he had been standing there, but judging from the way he held a towel in front of his crotch, he had been staring at her for a while.

"Nope." James replied with a sweet smile, and as Randall grinned back and entered the tub, she stood. "And neither is this one."

"Hey, wait up Maggie!" Randall spoke gently, with a tone that James recognized from when he was putting "the moves" on her mother. Her skin crawled with the realization that Randall was about to make a pass at her. Involuntarily, her eyes flicked to the crotch of his Speedo, which was now visible. The bulge that was present was larger than it should have been.

"Good night, Randall." James stated, placing one foot on the outside of the tub. Randall ignored her comment and sunk into the tub. She turned and was about to leave when she felt his hand encircle the ankle that still remained inside.

"You look so much like your mother." Randall's voice oozed. He wasn't pulling, but his touch caused James' stomach to roil.

"Let go of me, Randall." James demanded. She put as much force as she could behind the statement.

"Stop playing, Maggie. It's no big deal. You like guys now. It doesn't make you a fag or anything." The hand on her ankle pulled, trying to get her to return to the tub. James shook her foot, trying to dislodge his hand.

"Randall, you either let me go right now or I'm gonna hit you." James turned, not an easy feat with Randall holding her leg. Randall's expression was one of pure lust as his eyes roamed over her body. James knew this was the first time that he had seen this much of her, and she desperately wanted to go and put on some clothes.

"C'mon, sit down. Let's talk." Randall grinned, oblivious to her statement. His free hand came up to slide along her calf. There was a slight tingle in the way he touched her, but the feeling was overcome by another much stronger feeling of nausea. The man was at least thirty five! What in the hell did he think he was doing?

He's thinking with his dick. James reminded herself. He probably had thought that if he could just get you alone you would melt into his arms. James grasped the nearby handrail and steadied herself. Right now, he's not thinking about trying to get you in bed, to his mind you're already in bed and this is foreplay!

"Last chance. Let... Me... Go... NOW!" James summoned every bit of strength her voice possessed. For an instant, Randall looked concerned, before his expression turned again to that same leer.

"So serious..." Randall snickered, pulling on her foot again, this time with more strength. "You sure would've made a great actress, Maggie. You almost convinced me."

James took a deep breath and yanked her secured foot backwards, at the same time vaulting upwards on the handrail. Her free foot lashed out, smashing directly into Randall's face. His head snapped backwards and he fell back into the tub with a loud splash. As he did so, James lost his grip on the slippery handrail, and fell to the hard cement floor. She was momentarily stunned by the impact, but rapidly pulled herself to her feet and shuffled away from the tub on all fours. She looked back to see Randall grabbing at his nose, blood dripping from his hand. His eyes were tightly shut, and it was obvious that they were watering heavily.

She rose to her feet, grabbing at her towel and wrapping it around her waist. Her T-shirt and shorts were at the opposite end of the pool, and she moved towards them quickly, with a backwards glance at Randall, who was now tilting his head back and holding his nose. She reached her clothes and pulled them on quickly, not even bothering to dry first. Right now, she wanted to get back to her room, and she could deal with the fallout later.

"Maggie!" Randall bellowed from the opposite end of the pool. "What did you do that for? I was only kidding!"

No, he wasn't. James had to keep reminding herself of that. She didn't even reply, she exited the pool and headed directly towards the elevators. She pushed the button and waited nervously while the elevator took its sweet ass time getting to her floor. With a final glance towards the pool room, she entered the elevator and pushed the button for her floor.