Chapter 7

Finals came quickly, with Maggie throwing herself into her schoolwork. Apart from her daily relaxation with her guitar, she did very little partying. It wasn't that she was afraid, rather that she was cautious. She avoided fraternity parties, tending to drift towards unofficial school functions. She began to think of herself as a social selective, rather than a social outcast.

She had gained a nickname however. It was a common greeting as she walked down the halls, or met an acquaintance for lunch. She made initial attempts to stop it, but there had been FAR too many people at that party to prevent it from spreading among the student body. She grudgingly accepted it, even when the student newspaper printed her name as "Maggie "Witch" Fletcher".

Maggie walked out of her final physics test with confidence. She had gone to every class, and completed every assignment. She knew, just like every other class, that she had passed, and passed well.

She wandered about the school, the light covering of snow on the ground crunching under her shoes. She drew her jacket about herself, the same one that she had worn for her Halloween costume. Combined with a sweater, it was plenty warm, and allowed her to keep a vestige of her former life, albeit adapted to her new circumstances. The one armed bomber had been consigned to its fate as a vest only two weeks earlier.

She reflected that she was going to be catching a plane back to Monterey the next day, and she had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, it would be a delight to see Elaine again, and to tell her all about the fun experiences that she'd had at college. On the other hand, there was Randall...

Randall. At the thought of the name, a cold shiver ran up her spine. He would be a problem. She momentarily thought about trying to live on the streets for the two weeks of winter break, before immediately jettisoning the idea.

There was no reason that he should have the upper hand when she returned. She had taught him a very strong lesson about pulling any moves on her. The more she thought about it, the more her confidence returned. Her mother might not believe her about what a scumbag he was, but Maggie no longer needed her to.

The pleasant thought still ran though her mind as she returned to the dorm and began to pack her traveling bag. She'd be home soon, and the future, well, the future could take care of itself.

"I'm not happy about the nickname." Anne commented as she and Maggie waited for the bags to arrive at the baggage claim.

"It wasn't exactly my idea, Mom." Maggie apologized, regretting sending the student newspaper review of her concert home. It had been a whim, just to show her mom what she had been up to.

"And the hair... You couldn't use a temporary?" Anne sighed loudly.

"I didn't think of it." Maggie spotted her bag, and hefted it over her shoulder as it arrived on the turntable.

"I am very happy about your grades, though." Anne smiled, as they made their way through the parking lot to the aged station wagon. "I half feared that you wouldn't go to class..."

And she would have been right, Maggie reflected, if she had been young, stupid, and obsessed with alcohol. She merely nodded as they drove towards the main Salinas-Monterey highway.

Being back in Monterey was surreal for Maggie. Apart from aborted attempts at independence, it had always felt like home. Now, it felt like she was being shoved back into a role which she no longer fit into. This last semester had been a break not only from her family, but a break from the constant cycles of failure that she had slid into in her previous life. Now the trees seemed foreign, the light a little too bright. It was a large combination of things that were small individually, but taken together, made the place feel alien.

Maggie went over various college anecdotes that she knew her mother would approve of as they drove home. There were more of course, but they weren't exactly the types of stories you told your mother. Maggie figured that a slightly censored version of her college experience would be the best policy.

Anne, for her part, merely nodded, giving the impression that she was rather lost in the memories of her own college days as Maggie recounted the stories.

"So did you meet any nice guys?" Anne suddenly asked out of the blue several hours later.

"Uh..." Maggie knew that she should have expected this question, but was too momentarily stunned to answer. She could barely believe that her mom would ask that. She knew that she had left out any discussion of guys in her stories, but hadn't thought that her mother would expect it.

"I'll take that as a yes." Anne smirked at her daughter. "Do you play in the band with him?"

"Mom!" Maggie exclaimed, realizing how ridiculously "Girly" she sounded, but at the same time not really caring, "Look, it's not like that. Really! I played with that band for ONE gig, and we called it quits."

"Why was that?" Anne asked, her voice taking on a critical tone.

"Creative differences." A creative interpretation, to be sure, but Maggie figured it was the best face she could put on it.

"Mmmhmmm." Anne commented, letting the subject drop. She seemed about to say more, but left the room.

Randall had not been home to greet her, she was relieved to see. Elaine had been quite quiet upon her return home, merely nodding to Maggie, before returning to her room and closing the door. It was a major change from the highly energetic girl that Maggie had left only a few months ago, and shook Maggie a bit.

Now, with Anne working on dinner, and Randall not due back for another hour, Maggie figured it would be a good time to speak to Elaine and find out what was wrong. Gently, she knocked on the door of her sister's room. When there was no response, she knocked again, a little louder.

This time, there was the sound of shuffling behind the door, before the door opened to reveal Elaine. She said nothing, merely widening her eyes in a questioning expression.

"Hi, Elaine," Maggie started, and when Elaine did not respond, continued, "I was kinda hoping I could talk to you. Is something wrong?"

"No." Elaine's voice was very quiet.

"You're sure?" Maggie asked, not believing her. "Because I haven't seen you this quiet in years. Got laryngitis or something?"

"I'm fine." The defensive statement reminded Maggie of herself. She recalled how she had only said such things when things were at their worst.

"Okay," She shrugged her shoulders, "Don't tell me. Just sit in your room, depressed. I'll come by to water you every once in a while."

"You won't believe me." Elaine stated, moving to rapidly shut the door.

"Believe what?" Maggie shoved her foot in the door, getting a slight pain as Elaine tried to slam it. "Hey, I got something YOU won't believe!" She looked over her shoulder. Anne was still in the kitchen. "I tell ya what. You tell me your story, after I tell you something totally crazy."

"Yeah, like what?" Elaine asked, her face taking on a slightly more animated expression.

"I gotta whisper it." Maggie leaned close to Elaine, "I used to be a guy!" She whispered urgently, acting like it was the most secret thing in the world.

Elaine tried to keep a straight expression, but a smile began to grow across her face. When Maggie screwed up her mouth and placed a finger under her nose, simulating a mustache, she burst into a peal of laughter.

"Oh my god..." Elaine gasped, "My brother is a girl! AIEEE!" Her voice got a little louder, but there was still that a twinge of sadness to it.

"Ok, Your turn." Maggie smiled, cupping her hand to her ear. "C'mon, we had a deal."

"It's just..." Elaine broke off, taking a deep breath, and looked around the doorway before she continued, "It's Randall."

Maggie felt the blood rushing through her veins. Randall, that son of a... She forced herself to remain calm, and continue to listen to Elaine. She couldn't jump to any conclusions.

"I mean, he's been acting kinda weird. Mom says that he's just under a lot of stress at work, but it's just..." Elaine acted slightly embarrassed by the confession. Her eyes looked to the left and right as she spoke.

"Weird, like weird how?" Maggie could feel her anger rising. Her mind flashed back to the hotel, and an unattractive image of Randall floated through her consciousness.

"Well, he keeps coming in my room." Elaine stated, "I mean, like all the time."

"For how long?" Maggie asked, shooting an angry look back at the kitchen. She couldn't believe that Anne thought it was appropriate.

"Only for a little bit, but it's really freaking me out. I mean, this one time I forgot to take out the trash, and when I got home he had dumped it all over my bed." Elaine said, "And I really hate it when he hits me."

"Spankings?" Elaine growled. For a fourteen year old? No, check that, Elaine turned fifteen last month. It was ridiculous.

"Well, he broke his knee at work a week after you left for college, and he's got a cane now." Elaine explained,

"So he hit you with the CANE?" Maggie exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Mom said that it wasn't hard, but it hurt."

"Wait, MOM was there?" This was getting ridiculous. Anne was not that blind...

"Yeah, and he came into my room after that, told me he was sorry, and gave me a hug. But the hug was kinda, you know, weird." Elaine seemed to cringe after the last statement, as if expecting Maggie to laugh at her.

"Did you tell mom?" Maggie asked, feeling the anger boiling in her chest. Had this happened the last run through? She had been so tied up in her own life tab time, and so embroiled in her own problems...

"What, about the hug?" Elaine asked.

"Yeah."

"She said that I was wrong."

"Wait, wrong?" The choice of word struck Maggie as bizarre.

"Yeah, she said that Randall wasn't like that, and that I shouldn't be acting like you." Elaine seemed calmer, but still slightly afraid.

"Me?"

"Well, I mean, flirting with Randall, then saying that you didn't." Elaine was very quiet now.

There was a lot of meaning in that last statement. He was saying that Elaine was flirting with him. Therefore, it was a lie.

"I'm gonna talk to mom." Maggie said, her anger turning into a calm determination. "I've had it with that asshole."

"Don't, please!" Elaine grasped at Maggie's arm. "I don't want to get in trouble again."

"You won't." Maggie moved forward, embracing her little sister in a tight hug. "I'm not going to let him do it again."

It had happened before, she realized. She remembered that year, and how when she returned from flunking out of college, how quiet Elaine had been. She had stopped seeing her friends, and spent so much time in her studies that it was scary. The vivacious fourteen year old had turned into a neurotic, reclusive fifteen year old. Maggie had immediately gone off to the military at seventeen, not staying to see what had happened, but she recalled Elaine at twenty-one. Always quiet, waiting for Randall to speak before she did. She had no boyfriend. She had no driver's license. She went to the local community college, and did poorly.

She released her sister, and walked toward the kitchen, where Anne was busily stirring something on the stove. Anne looked back at her daughter as she entered, smiled, then turned back to the work.

"It's not going to be ready for a little while. If you want to help, I still need to slice the bread." Anne commented over her shoulder.

Maggie looked at the counter, where a loaf of Italian bread still lay in it's paper wrapper. Shrugging, she began to open it as she spoke.

"We need to talk about Randall." There was definite ice in her voice, and she made no attempt to hide it.

"Ok, what about Randall?" Anne asked, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it.

"Your husband is going to molest Elaine." Maggie stated flatly as she slid the bread onto a cutting board.

Anne dropped the spoon, and spun around to look at her daughter.

"Excuse me, young lady. I do not think that you have any grounds to speak about Randall." Anne's voice was very angry, and Maggie could see the color rising in her face. "If Randall was going to molest Elaine, he would never have broken his nose running away from YOU."

So, Randall HAD said something about the hot tub incident. A lie, of course. Not saying anything about it to Anne had been a mistake. A bad mistake. Maggie was momentarily too stunned to speak as Anne continued.

"I don't know what crazy things you're thinking, but it's obvious that you are NOT adjusting to this situation as well as I thought you would be. I thought you might be able to get into a Sorority, not blow it like you did. I thought you might be able to find a boyfriend, and get some of these ridiculous feelings for Randall to go away. I thought that. It looks like I was wrong." She paused for a deep breath, " It looks like we're going to have to get you some help. Therapy, counseling, whatever. Look at they way you're dressed! Look at your HAIR!" Anne's voice began to get shriller, "And that NICKNAME. WITCH. I did not take you to Mass every Sunday for this. My GOD, who do you think you are? Seriously Maggie, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

The pot on the stove began to boil over, as Anne glared at her daughter. The color of her face was beet red, and her hands were clenched into fists.

Maggie felt an odd sense of calm come over her. She stepped back from the counter. Her hands came apart, and looked at her mother, waiting for more.

"Finished?" Maggie asked, then without waiting for an answer, continued, "I don't know who I am, mom, but I know I'm happy. I also know that your husband is a liar. If he tries to lay a hand on Elaine again, I will stop him."

Anne rushed at Maggie, grabbing her at the collar and pulling the fabric into her fist. Her hand came up, smacking hard across Maggie's face. The fist at Maggie's collar yanked hard at the fabric, and Anne began to roar at her.

"LIAR?" Despite the rage Anne was showing, her voice seemed unsteady, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as her daughter. "You were the one who tried to seduce my husband. You're not even my DAUGHTER." The venom in the last word struck Maggie hard, drawing a strong sting in her stomach.

Maggie was bigger than Anne, but she resisted the urge to fight back, merely letting Anne do what she wanted. She merely looked back at Anne with a confident stare.

"Say SOMETHING!" Anne shouted, shaking the fabric in her fist. From behind her, Maggie could hear the hissing of the water impacting on the electric burner. "Say something, GODDAMMIT!" There were tears in Anne's eyes, as she stared at the girl in front of her.

"Will you listen?" Maggie asked quietly.

The hand at Maggie's throat slackened, then dropped. Anne breathed deeply, staring at her daughter. Quietly, she turned about, and turned off the burner on the stove.

"Talk." Anne said quietly, her eyes staring at the rapidly diminishing foam.

"I kicked Randall in the face, the day before rush." Maggie explained. "I told you before that he was making me uncomfortable, and he was trying to get close at the pool."

"But he wouldn't do that." Anne's voice was uncertain. "He said you grabbed him, and his foot slipped on the wet tile when he jumped out of the pool."

"No." Maggie looked at the back of Anne's head as she spoke, wishing that Anne would look at her.

"But..." Anne's voice cut off. There was silence for a moment before she continued. "I'm sorry, I thought... Oh God..." Anne's back shook gently. "... why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have listened?" Maggie asked.

"YES! YES! OH GOD, YES!" Anne spun around, racing towards her daughter again. This time, she caught her in a tight embrace. "I would have listened!" She sobbed softly against Maggie's shoulder, before she continued. "No... No... I wouldn't have."

"That's why I didn't tell you." Maggie said, merely feeling the closeness of her mother. How long had it been since she had been this close?

"When he punished... When he HIT Elaine, I thought it was just..." She sighed, stepping away from Maggie. "It was borderline; I thought that was as far as he would go."

"Mom," Maggie stated, calmly, "He won't stop."

The sound of the front door opening was audible in the silence of the kitchen. It shut again quietly, and Maggie knew that Randall was home. The anger that she had pushed away came back, as she heard the sound of his footsteps along with a softer thump that must have been his cane, moving towards the kitchen.

"Hey, Anne? Elaine left her damn magazine in the front room." Randall's voice was annoyed, and the sound of a magazine being stuffed into a trash can followed his statement. "She does it again, and I'm gonna toss every single one of them."

Maggie said nothing, looking at the door. Anne's face was calm, as she wiped the last vestiges of tears away.

"See that James is home," Randall stated, stepping into the kitchen. The most noticeable thing was the brace on his left leg. The cane that he leaned on was a deep brown wood with a wooden handle running perpendicular to the main shaft. He said nothing further, merely opening the refrigerator and getting a tumbler down from the shelf nearby.

"My name is Maggie." Maggie said softly, looking at Anne. Anne said nothing, merely looking at Randall.

"I thought you didn't like that, James." Randall chuckled, pouring a large helping of a bottle kept in the freezer into the tumbler, along with a few cubes of ice.

"Things change." Maggie smiled with that comment.

"So, how was work?" Anne asked, changing the subject.

"Good." Randall responded. He took a deep swig of the drink.

"Good?" Anne asked, her voice taking on a skeptical tone.

"Good." He repeated, moving towards the front room. "I'm gonna go remind Elaine to keep her shit in her room."

"No."

The word hung in the air. Randall stopped, turning and looking at Maggie with an expression of annoyance.

"What?" Randall said, his hand lowering to lift the cane. His hand grasped it about six inches from the top. He pointed the end of the cane at Maggie as he took another sip of his drink. "You want to say that again, James?"

Maggie looked directly at Randall. She was as tall as he was, and stood her ground solidly. "I said no." She spoke again.

"And why not?" Randall took a step back into the kitchen. Leading with his bad leg, Maggie noted, probably getting ready for a quick swing.

Anne looked nervous, and spoke quickly. "Look, Randall, maybe you should just let it go."

"Are you talking back to me?" Randall asked, his voice taking on a hard edge. "One semester of college and you think you know everything." He was almost within an arms length now. He was getting ready for a swing.

"Don't try it." Maggie's eyes flicked to the hand that held the cane, and back to Randall's face.

"Don't try WHAT?" Randall asked, edging closer.

"Don't, Randall." Anne's voice was quiet, but there was a sound to it that bore a strong finality.

Randall's hand moved, and if Maggie had not been expecting the action, she would have caught the handle of cane right across her face. His hand moved through the empty space where Maggie jerked her head back. She needed to take several steps back to regain her balance but was otherwise unhurt.

Randall moved forward, his hand coming back for another swing. "C'mere." He growled.

"RANDALL, STOP IT." Anne's voice was harsh, as she grabbed at Randall's opposite hand. The drink spilled across the floor as he yanked his hand free.

The hand with the cane came around again, and Maggie knew she couldn't dodge it. Her hand came up, trying to deflect the brunt of the impact. The remainder of the force of the blow struck her on her cheek, causing a sore twinge, which continued to pulse for a moment after the strike landed.

Randall stopped at that point, looking at Maggie with an expression of triumph. "You mind your own business." He said. Anne looked at Randall with an expression of disgust.

"No." Maggie replied,

"You really are a slow learner." Randall snarled, his hand raising the cane again.

"And you're an asshole." Maggie taunted.

The cane came around again, striking high, as she expected. She ducked low, her foot lashing into Randall's leg brace. He howled with pain, losing his balance and dropping to his good knee. Maggie scurried backwards, rising back to her full height. Her fists came up, ready to ward off the next attack.

"RANDALL. STOP." Anne shouted, rushing to his side. "Stop it, RIGHT NOW. What are you doing?"

"Anne," Randall grunted, using the cane to raise himself back to his feet, "She kicked me. She kicked me in my bad leg. I can barely work as it is." He glowered at Maggie, then pointed at her with the hand that did not hold the cane. "You are about to be a VERY sorry little girl, James. C'mere."

Anne shook her head, looking directly at Randall.

"I said stop it." She stated. "I told you to STOP." The color that Maggie had seen in their earlier argument was coming back, and directed at Randall.

"She can't hit me." Randall snarled. "She CAN'T hit me."

"You really want to go for three?" Maggie asked, knowing that she was getting a bit cocky, and not really caring.

Suddenly, Randall moved, faster than Maggie expected. Before she knew it, Randall had pushed her back against the wall, slamming her hard against it. The impact stunned her for a moment, and she all she could do was watch as the cane came up, striking her a hard blow across the cheek.

"You think you're so tough?" Randall snarled into her face, pulling the cane back for another strike. "You still think so, James?"

Reflexively, Maggie brought her knee up, smashing as hard as she could directly into Randall's crotch. His eyes bulged, mouth opening, but no sound coming forth. His grip on her body slackened, and she shoved against him, pushing him back a step. Her leg came up, striking him in the brace once again, this time with as much force as she could put behind the kick.

The knee buckled. This time Randall did make a sound, a wail like a wounded seal. The anger still burning in her veins, Maggie pulled her hand back, forming it into a tight fist. She put every ounce of hatred that she held behind the punch that she drove into Randall's nose.

Randall, off balance already, fell backwards, his head smashing into the floor. He lay there, moaning softly, as Maggie looked down at him. She breathed heavily, the adrenaline burning though her. Her mother stood there, looking down at Randall with an expression of horror.

Maggie reached up to rub at her cheek. There was a feeling of burning on it, and she knew that she'd have a nasty bruise there in the morning. She exhaled a long ragged breath, stepping around the supine man on the floor, and walked out of the kitchen. She slowly moved through her house to her room, closing the door softly after herself. She walked to her desk, sat in the chair, and listened.

For a long while, there was nothing. Then voices. Quiet, then louder and louder. A scream of "GET OUT" loud and in her mother's voice. Then more shouting. A slamming door. In the distance, an engine revving. Then Nothing.

A few moments later, there was a knock, quiet but insistent at her door. She opened it, to the tearful face of her mother. Anne merely looked at Maggie for a moment, her eyes full of apology. Maggie said nothing, merely holding out her arms to her mother. They hugged, quietly, simply feeling the closeness of family.

"He's gone. He'll be back to pick up his stuff, but that's it." Anne said quietly. "I wanted it to work. I just... I never thought that he would..."

Maggie nodded, her hands patting her mother on the back.

They stayed that way for a moment longer, before Anne moved back, closing the door after her. The next thing that she knew, Maggie could feel the tears welling in her eyes, spilling out over her cheeks. She sat in her chair, leaning her head against the table. Her tears flowed out, her body shaking with deep, shuddering sobs. It was over. If nothing else worthwhile happened in her life, she had given her little sister and her mother a chance.

A chance to do things right.

"Can we start over, Witch?" Sherrie asked, her face showing an earnest expression.

"Start over, like how?" Maggie shrugged her shoulders, looking around the small coffee shop where Sherrie had asked to meet her. They were the "NEW" places to be, but if anything, Maggie felt out of place with the crowd.

"Look, I don't know if you heard, but I got thrown out of the fucking band too." Sherrie explained, "Catalina decided that they really didn't need a bass player, and Mike agreed with his fucking dick and kicked me out."

"That sucks." Maggie sipped at her mocha, looking out the store window at the snow frosted streets outside.

"So I was thinking, why don't we get together. I mean, every fucking gig we did after Halloween, somebody would ask where you were. It really pissed off that Mike, that fucking asshole." Sherrie smirked at the last comment, "And anyway, I was getting pretty fucking sick of doing covers of Metallica."

"So, like start a new band?" Maggie asked, "A bass player and a guitarist?"

"Well, yeah, we'd some more members. Fuck yeah. I've got a few friends though." Sherrie affirmed.

"Yeah, I could talk to some people." Maggie immediately thought of Mallory and the other girls on her hall. She recalled that one girl on the other end of the hall played keyboard. Not very well, but maybe she would work as a minor backup until they found someone better.

"So, you want to do this? I mean, shit, you're a great draw. Better than me at any rate." Sherrie shrugged, her hands tapping at a pack of cigarettes she had pulled from her pocket. "Hey, uh, you mind going outside? The fuckers won't let me smoke in here."

They moved outside, into the January chill. The contrast to the heated shop was noticeable, and Maggie pulled her winter jacket tight about herself. Sherrie lit up a cigarette, taking a deep drag, before she continued.

"So I was thinking. You're a draw. I mean, nothing personal, but you're fucking hot." Sherrie smiled at the last comment, running her fingers through her shoulder length dark hair. "So we put your name out there, as the lead, and we just play backup."

"But..." Maggie began to object.

"Fuck that shit, Witch. Yer the reason people will come to see us. Hot chick, can play the guitar like a monster, and actually sing too."

The singing ability had actually come as a bit of a surprise to Maggie. Her voice was much stronger than it had been as a male; more suited to her style of playing.

"Well, ok. Uhm, you want to meet this Saturday, with whoever we can get?" Maggie asked, then her face took on a mischievous tone, "I'd do it during the week, but I've got a test on Friday."

"So, I can come to your show, right?" Mallory asked, her legs swinging as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Got five bucks?" Maggie smirked, finishing up her practice for the afternoon. One hour a day in the dorms was less of a torture now, since she had her bi-weekly rehearsals to look forward. True, getting the band together had been more of Sherrie's forte. Maggie felt a bit "along for the ride."

"Aww, c'mon. Maybe I can pay you another way..." Mallory grinned at Maggie, winking softly.

"Not cool." Maggie groaned, her stomach making the same twist that it always did whenever Mallory flirted with her. Despite her earlier comments, Mallory seemed to delight in tormenting her roommate. "You know that uh..." Maggie broke off, unable to think of a diplomatic way to end the comment.

"Aww, what? Does it drive you WILD with desire?" Mallory snickered, leaning back on the bed and stretching.

"Ok, knock it off." Maggie sighed, stowing her equipment.

"All right. It's just too easy to get you riled up..." Mallory laughed, moving to the door of the room. "I'm meeting Beth for dinner anyway. Catch you later, babe." She smiled again, blowing a kiss in Maggie's general direction. With that, she left, leaving Maggie standing alone in the room.

"And now I'm horny again." Maggie said to the empty room. She could feel the excitement in her body from Mallory's little show. Her mind knew that Mallory was just teasing her, but somebody needed to forward the memo to every other cell in her body. She felt so warm...

"Goddammit." Her voice growled. She suddenly felt close to tears. So frustrated. Why was she being teased like this? She flung herself facedown on the bed, breathing heavily.

Because she can tease you like this, her mind answered. Mallory likes the attention that you give her when she flirts with you.

She rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. She yearned, ached, wanted to be touched. She moved her hand across her chest, stroking softly. The soft tingle that the contact brought was welcome, helping her clear away the thoughts of frustration and depression.