Chapter 1

To Whom It May Concern, Greetings,

My name is Thadeus Hamilton - thanks ever so much, Mom - and this is my tale.

I'm the average looking kid you saw in school every single day. You watched me weave my way through the throngs of jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, goths, emos and preppies. You never saw me stop to talk with any of them because, let's face it, I had nothing to say to any of them.

"Why was that," you ask, "didn't you want to fit in?"

Well, it's because I already knew who I was, where I was going and how to get there. In a nutshell, it's because I didn't share the intense teen angst that was the common thread of interaction in all those groups and because I didn't want to devote quite that much time to being that self-absorbed.

Everything was going along swimmingly until my senior year when a group of misguided morons in DC got a wild hair stuck up their collective ass and afterwards had a massive bout of mental diarrhea.

I call this group morons because they are so over educated that they obviously have lost touch with any sense of reality, much less, common sense.

In any case, this group came up with a sure-fire plan to moderate the sexual tensions running rampant in our Nation. (Yes, gentle reader, that was a sardonic statement. So, sue me.)

The Naked In School Program was the result of their deliberations and horse trading.

This nice, thick, slice of insanity consisted of an extreme minority of students - usually eight per week at four year schools - being forced to attend one week of school in the buff. But that was just the beginning.

These same students also got to play sex toy for the rest of the student body and staff, via some really vaguely worded thing called Reasonable Requests.

As if these two trauma inducers weren't enough; someone thought it would be a fine idea to have these experiments in personal growth use the opposite genders bathrooms, showers and make themselves available for whatever degrading crap the teaching staff could dream up under the term Assisting in Class.

There was even a section at the end about something called Outreach, but I had quit reading by this point as I couldn't stomach any more of the psycho-babble that these folks seemed to be so in love with.

God alone knows how they got it through Congress, but they did. This piece of garbage was about to become the Law of the Land and the only encouraging things were: that it was still being test marketed and had not become a graduation requirement yet.

When I first got wind of this piece of junk coming down the pike I knew what had to be done. I didn't have any body issues to deal with. I was average in all respects and very happy with myself too. I was also, a senior with all AP classes, on the fast college track and I knew I could quite simply test out of school.

On the following Monday I sat across from my guidance counselor and requested to test out of all my subjects. Miss Franklin was at first hesitant to initiate this and asked repeatedly if I were sure. I reminded her that it was my option and if I failed the testing, I would simply return to classes as usual, no harm done. At this, she scheduled the tests and by 3:00 P. M. Friday I was finished with the High School curriculum.

The next Monday I had one last task at school. I needed to return my textbooks and then I would be completely done. As I was taking my last stroll through the halls - headed to the library - I was mildly curious when I heard my name paged to the office. Thinking that it was some last minute paperwork needing my signature I headed that way while lugging my mini-mountain of books under my arm.

When I reached the office I piled my book-load on the counter and waited. Finally Miss. Adamson, the Admin Secretary, glanced up and I was able to ask if this was about some last minute paperwork in regards to my testing out. She got the most curious looking grin on her face while saying, "No, but Principal Allen does want to see you in his office."

I could feel my eyebrows trying to crawl up into my hairline and my right hand instinctively dove for my fly in response to the weirdness of her grin. That Alice In Wonderland feeling kept getting stronger by the second - Curiouser and Curiouser. I shook my head silently instead of voicing the what-the-fuck phrase running through my mind?

As I neared his office door I could have sworn I heard someone sobbing. Thinking that this was just getting extremely strange, I knocked on his doorframe and opened it when I heard him call.

My first impression on entering was massive confusion. There were two armless straight-back chairs in front of his desk and one of them was filled with a weeping Megan O'Hara. This made absolutely no sense to me and I looked my question at Mr. Allen.

"Please, have a seat Thad and I'll explain," he said.

As I passed by Megan I stopped and asked if she were OK. I couldn't, for the life of me, imagine why she was here to begin with. I mean, the girl had a 4.0 GPA, Senior Class President, cheerleader, blonde hair, blue eyes, figure to kill for, etc. It just made no sense at all.

She pulled her face from her cupped hands and gave me the most pleading, miserable look I've ever seen on a human face. I noticed she also had been crying for some time and her mascara had run making her look like a raccoon with a head cold. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket (Yes, I do carry one. Quit your snickering) and gently wiped up her runs. When I judged it was the best I could do, I gave Megan a grin that said, "Much better", her returned grin and the smile in her eyes replied, "Thank you for your kindness."

Taking my seat, I noticed an open box under the chair with a pamphlet of some kind in it. When I saw those two items I knew why we were here, and muttered, "Ah, shit."

After about thirty seconds, Mr. Allen took our silence as his cue to launch into The Program Intro.

Because of my detachment, I could tell right away that he was as uncomfortable with this as we were, perhaps even more so. Most of his delivery sounded like something a parrot had memorized badly, with catch phrases thrown in like: "Stupendous Opportunity", "Of Great Benefit", "Student Role Models", "Rapid Personal Growth", etc. When he wound down to his conclusion, he asked if we had any questions.

I replied that I had one and asked if he was aware that I was no longer a student at this school. I explained how I had tested out of all my subjects by 3:00 P. M. the previous Friday and asked if he had just not gotten the memo, or what.

To say that this news caused him a little consternation would have been a gross understatement. He asked us to wait one minute while he confirmed this new information and then picked up his phone.

I happened to glance at Megan during this interlude and noticed a terrified look of despair pass across her face. When Mr. Allen put down the phone, he looked straight at me and said, "Thad, you were absolutely correct. I want to extend my apology and wish you the very best of luck son. You may leave when you're ready."

At this exchange, Megan seemed to implode and with a groan, took what can only be described as a fetal pose in her chair. Her body language effortlessly broke through the shield I had carried throughout High School and I couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Allen, what will happen with Megan?"

"Unfortunately, since her name is already recorded as a participant, she will have to complete her week in The Program solo," he said and then quickly added, "of course, we will try to get her a support partner as soon as possible. But it could take a while."

Oh God, I could feel it rumbling toward me like a bullet-train that had just jumped the tracks and had me in its crosshairs. I was about to break the only cardinal rule I had held dear throughout my school years; "Don't get Involved With Others Problems". This huddled ball of human misery was pushing me over the precipice of change. I felt my mind scream at the fates about my playing by the rules and this being my reward?

At first, the three sat in their appointed places, uncaring about me and going about their tasks. Then a twinkle appeared in Clothos' eyes, as a slight grin spread across Latchesis' lips. I could have sworn I heard a whispered, "Now," while a new pattern blossomed under Latchesis' flying fingers on the tapestry that was my life. This new weaving reminded me of multiple shafts of brilliant sun light breaking through an overcast heaven, while the vision I was seeing faded from my mind's eye and I found myself returning to the here and now.

Sadly, I just couldn't leave the young lady to her fate. I had to change it if I could. As if from a distance, I heard my voice ask, "Until you find a suitable replacement partner, would it be possible for me to fill the need? Perhaps I could act as her guardian to see that she comes to no harm?"

Both their faces reflected unbridled surprise at this request and I'm sure I'd have loved savoring it too; except that I was just as surprised as they were.

Mr. Allen then asked, "How do you see this working, Thad?"

"Well Sir, since I no longer have a schedule or classes to attend, I thought I could just tag along with Megan and make sure no one harms her. What do you think?"

"You know you'd have to be naked also, son? Could you do that?"

With a sigh that seemed to originate somewhere around my toes, I replied, "Yes sir, I could. I just want to make sure she's as safe as possible."

As the words left my mouth, I happened to look up at Megan. The look on her face stated clearly that The Second Coming would be relegated to sideshow status compared to how this event was affecting her. The next thing I knew, I had warm, melting and wiggling girl straddled on my lap and plastered all over me, while she was doing her damnedest to cover every inch of my face in kisses. I had two separate thoughts run through my head about then: 'Holy Crap! and Wow, this is really nice!.

I now knew exactly how Dorothy had felt when she first opened the front door after landing in OZ. The phrase, "Oh, My, God!" kept running laps in my head like some out-of-control NASCAR driver on steroids. I'm also sure that had my shoes had been off, my toes would have resembled the tightest cinnamon rolls ever created by human hands ... bar none.

After an indeterminate time had passed, I dimly heard someone clearing their throat. Glancing around my personal face vacuum, I noticed Mr. Allen sitting there and attempting to get our attention without using a bucket of ice water. I raised one eyebrow in a what can I do gesture and was answered by his index finger making the horizontal loops of hurry it up, we have stuff to do yet motion. At this, I gently put my hands to the sides of Megan's head and disengaged her vacuum seal while whispering, "Thank you."

When Megan had returned to her chair, Mr. Allen said, "Miss. O'Hara, please don't do that again in my presence."