Chapter 2

I woke up alone in the morning, and had eaten and been ready to leave by the time Holly and Beth stumbled down to the kitchen. I gave them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and headed out to my bike. Strapping my book bag on the back, I looked out the garage door to see what the weather was doing. It looked safe, so I just strapped my poncho to the rack, and took off. According to my rides during the summer, I should have time to make it to school about ten minutes early.

Cape May county is flat, so there were no hills to impede my progress. I passed swamps and ponds filled with migratory birds resting on their way south, happy in the reeds and cattails. They would like to stay all winter, but snow was coming, and food would soon grow scarce. All the ponds would ice over in a few months. The sky was filled with white clouds scudding in from the Atlantic, the sunshine seeming pale and wan, the trees losing their leaves to fall colors and the brisk breeze.

Arriving at the High School, Middle Township High, I locked up my bike at a rack on the side of the school, instead of one of the reserved racks in the front. It wasn't worth the trouble it would cause to go against the ingrained classism which existed so well entrenched. Parking in the wrong spot, be it bike or car, would result in flat tires or worse. Juniors knew better than to park at school, or within five blocks. There would be no recourse either, any complaints would be ignored, or if pursued, would result in more problems for the whiner. I was just lucky there was a place for a Sophomore to lock up their bicycle at.

On entering the school, I had to wait at the appropriate area of the Quad for the first bell, as Sophomores were not allowed by Juniors and Seniors to be in the hallway any earlier. I intended just to carry my backpack to my first class without visiting my locker and save myself some problems. Between second period and third was soon enough to open my locker, when the upperclassmen were busy getting to their next class and wouldn't have time to mess with underclassmen.

I spent the time until first bell visiting with friends from Junior High, sharing stories from summer, recalling parties and tales of the misdeeds of selves and others. It was a small community, so most were already known, but it passed the time. I learned about a classmate who had taken his grand folks car for a joyride, which hadn't made the paper. He was in a four year military academy now. I didn't feel sorry for the fool, he had been a thief and a braggart.

Unspoken were stories about the 'Trench Coat Mafia' or the Vampire Goths. These stories passed only in whispers, between good and trusted friends. The V.G.s weren't vampires, anymore than the TCM were mafia. They were wannabes, fakers, pretenders, but dangerous enough in their clannish ways.

They would resort to whisper campaigns and had been known to use date rape drugs to put their enemies in compromising positions, and to acquire blackmail evidence. The Trench Coat Mafia's style was more along the lines of killing or dog napping a pet, or writing graffiti on houses and garages. They made noise about guns and bombs, but it was unlikely such would be available to them in the current climate.

The stoners kept to themselves, and aside from reddened eyes and the scent of pot smoke, bothered no one. They might mooch for food around lunchtime, but it was a voluntary donation, unlike the arm twisting for lunch money indulged in by the punks with their leather and stud uniform and their excess of metal jewelry in their faces. If a male dressed in black had only one earring, usually a dangling jewel, and no studs if they wore leather, they were Goth. If they had more earrings, and studs on their leather, they were punks. Goths didn't extort lunch money, and mostly kept to their own.

The punks got in anyone's face, except it had no effect on the stoners, and if someone didn't flinch, they were mostly left alone, since the punks were cowards at heart, like most bullies. They were not real punks in the musical sense, and if they listened to punk music it was mostly for effect, not because they really enjoyed it. They enjoyed the leather and studs and thinking of themselves as a bit dangerous.

The Jocks were to be found from any of the sub-cultures, but the over culture of Jock bound them together, along with the influence of the coven of cheerleaders. I have to say, the cheerleaders had the Jocks under their spell.

None of the Jocks were stoners though, because they didn't care enough about anything to exert themselves in any sport, or in academics either, for that matter.

I had to cause a few would-be trippers to step on their own feet, and one broke their wrist while the other hit their head on a door-jam, causing a bleeding gash. They forgot about me in their pain, but their sub-consciousnesses learned to leave me alone. It just took crossing my fingers and twisting my wrist while willing my intention.

So much easier than gathering with eleven of your friends in a room filled with candles and chanting together, and submitting to being buggered by a robed and cowled person of unknown identity.

Miss Tiff was holding her own despite the whispers and nudges, and this second day of school wasn't harassed physically. Not having blonde hair went a long ways toward reducing her target status. Also, she wisely decided to forgo the cute pink look, and was trying to blend in, her hair was brown, as well as her clothing.

It didn't help, the comments likened her to a huge turd. It was only words today though, the excitement of the start of school dying down, and becoming mere attitude rather than antagonism. I learned today that the school colors were black and orange, and only dweebs wore orange. I wasn't going to wear black, but I didn't have any bright colors in my wardrobe.

I felt responsible for Beth and Holly, and in a way I was. When I realized that the Cobbs had given me a home because they couldn't have children of their own, I Caused the girls to happen. Having Mom become pregnant really solidified her and Dad's relationship, making me more secure as well.

The first bell rang, and I headed for my first class. It was PhysEd, and I had to dress in shorts and a tee. I had a jock strap from Junior High that still fit, luckily. Class yesterday had been a lecture on grading policy, weight and height measurements, and a handout for parents about sex education, meaning segregated films his and hers shown for two days out of the year. Also the dress requirements. I still fit my sneakers from last year, so I was good to go.