A Fresh Start - Cover

A Fresh Start

Copyright© 2011 by rlfj

Chapter 4: Back To School

Do-Over Sex Story: Chapter 4: Back To School - Aladdin's Lamp sends me back to my teenage years. Will I make the same mistakes, or new ones, and can I reclaim my life? Note: Some codes apply to future chapters. The sex in the story develops slowly.

Caution: This Do-Over Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Historical   Military   School   Rags To Riches   DoOver   Time Travel   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   First   Oral Sex   Voyeurism  

I set the alarm clock for an hour early the next morning, which made it my normal time to get up as an adult. Back when I was a kid the first time, I was a very late riser, but after forty years working, I tended to get up by seven or earlier, even on my days off.

When the alarm went off the next morning, Hamilton grumbled and bitched he was going to tell Mom. I ignored him and pulled on gym shorts and a t-shirt and sneakers. I also grabbed a sweatshirt. It was November after all. I quietly went down the stairs and out the back door.

This was going to be a major change in my overall life plan. It was one thing to accelerate my schooling. I was a nerd before and would be a nerd again. Previously, however, I was a couch potato and it showed. I was skinny and weak, but as I grew older, I started putting on a couple of pounds a year like clockwork. For many years I was simply filling out to a normal size. Then I started getting fuller, becoming plump, chubby, a few pounds overweight, fluffy - fat. By the time I was in my late fifties I was a good fifty pounds too heavy. Clothing wouldn’t fit, my health went downhill, and it exacerbated the normal problems you get with aging.

I didn’t plan on being a jock, but I did plan to get in better shape and stay there. I also planned to learn some self-defense techniques. Nobody knew better than me that the fight on the school bus was a real anomaly. I won by surprise and aggression, not by skill. One thing I damn sure wouldn’t do again was smoke. I had spent half my life smoking cigars and cigarettes, and it’s just not good for you. As much as I liked it, and don’t ever think smokers don’t enjoy it, it’s terrible for your health. After I quit, I put on 30 pounds immediately and was still healthier being fat than I was when I smoked.

I had no hopes of becoming a jock. I was always going to be too slim and wiry for that. I could, however, build up my stamina and some muscle. It was going to have to be a long-term commitment. I knew enough about human nature to know that if I got in the habit now, it would be easier to continue. It’s incredibly easier to keep the weight off in the beginning than to try to lose it later.

Life was simple. I decided to run around the block. I alternated jogging and walking for a half hour. I didn’t do much, maybe a mile-and-a-half or two miles total, which isn’t much more than an average walking speed. I made a couple of laps around the block, which was big, and on the second I added another block in as well. I was sweating by the time I got back to the house and let myself in.

“What in the world are you doing?” asked my father. Normally he would have been off to work, but today he was reading the paper and drinking coffee.

“Getting in shape.”

“What, so you can get in fights again?”

I grinned. “No, so I can run away!” He just snorted, and I went upstairs and took a shower. I made it quick, since it’s the only bathroom the three of us kids can use. Hamilton was waiting outside the door when I got out, a towel wrapped around my waist.

Hamilton brushed past me into the bathroom. Suzie opened the door to her bedroom and looked out into the hall, to see me standing there with a towel around my waist. “Gross!” she shrieked and slammed the door shut. I laughed and went to my bedroom to dress. I had grossed out my baby sister and it wasn’t even breakfast time. My day was complete! Everything else was going to be like ice cream on top of the pie!

At 8:30 Dad and I drove over to the school. Steiner wanted us to meet him in the parking lot. We found a space in the visitor’s lot. Since none of the kids had cars, none of the spaces were filled by student cars. We got out and waited for the lawyer to show up, which he did about five minutes later. He got out carrying a briefcase. His only instructions were for me to keep my mouth shut at all times, and for Dad not to lose his temper. I smiled at this, but Dad glared at me, and I promptly found it a good time to look at something else - anything else!

We went inside and I led them down the hallway to the offices. In the future, schools would be locked fortresses, with guards and check in procedures, but not back in the Sixties. You just walked in. In the office, we announced ourselves and were pointed to the cheesy modernistic couch they had picked up somewhere. A couple of minutes later we were summoned into the Holy of Holies, Mr. Butterfield’s office. He was the Principal, and he and Mr. Warner, the Vice-Principal were waiting for us. Neither was smiling. They really weren’t smiling when my father introduced Steiner as our lawyer.

They got right to the point. I was expelled for attacking children on the school bus. They weren’t at all sure why I wasn’t serving time in the Maryland State Penitentiary already, but they didn’t care. No matter what that cop said the other day, I was history.

Dad’s face got red, but he kept his mouth shut. I just sat there like a bump on a log. When Mr. Butterfield and Mr. Warner ran out of steam, Mr. Steiner spoke up. “Okay, gentlemen, it’s my turn now. Let me make a few things clear.” He opened his brief case and pulled out several thick documents wrapped in heavy blue paper. Everyone’s eyes went to them immediately. “First, my client is not under arrest and has never been under arrest. He was taken to the police station for questioning and sent home the same day. If you were to say or do anything which implies otherwise, I formally warn you that we will be suing for slander and/or libel.”

They looked at him, stunned. How dare anybody come into the Inner Sanctum to tell them what to do? He ignored their sensibilities. “Next, the three students who my client allegedly attacked have all been arrested. They have been formally charged and arraigned on multiple counts of extortion, conspiracy, assault, and battery. More may be coming. Don’t just take my word for it, either. Maybe you missed it, but it made this morning’s edition of the Baltimore Sun.” He slapped down a copy of the newspaper, with a circle drawn around a small article. No names were mentioned, since everybody was a minor, but the fact that three boys had attacked another on a Towsontown Junior High school bus and had been arrested was noted. “All three boys are currently handcuffed to their beds at GBMC, in the prison ward. A judge went out there and arraigned them in the hospital.”

GBMC, the Greater Baltimore Medical Center, was a big hospital in Baltimore County. It was the local trauma center, a good place to go when you got the shit kicked out of you. On a side note, it was also a place you could generally find a cop to make an arrest. Steiner made it sound more dramatic than it really was. At the arraignment, to which the judge brought a public defender, he immediately turned the kids over to their parents and the public defender washed his hands of the whole thing and told the parents they should get their own lawyers.

“So, gentlemen, your premise is incorrect. It is not my client who did the attacking, but your three innocent children. So, here’s how we are going to handle that.” He slapped down one of the blue documents. “That is a court order, a judicial restraining order, prohibiting you from punishing my client without first taking it up with the judge in Family Court. If you do so and lose, which you will, the school district will be responsible for court costs. Additionally, you will open yourselves up, both through the district and in your own persons, to a countersuit. Gentlemen, I will take you to the cleaners.”

He then slapped down a second blue sheaf. “That is another restraining order, ordering you to keep those three boys out of this school and no closer than 500 feet while my client is in school. Copies have also been served this morning on each of those boys and their parents. Gentlemen, you expelled the wrong students. We have corrected your error. Again, failure to obey these restraining orders without judicial approval will result in civil penalties against both the school district and you personally. Is that understood?”

Neither man could do more than stare at the blue documents and sputter incoherently. Steiner continued, “I think I am going to require something more concrete, gentlemen. I have officially served you with legal orders. Now, I assume you will have counsel for the school district review these, but I assure you, they are quite legal. Now, I expect my client to be able to return to class, today, and ride the school bus home. Is that clearly understood? Please answer.”

Warner was stupefied. Butterfield simply looked at us and said, “Yes.”

Steiner stood up. “Then we are done here. My card, gentlemen, in case you or your attorneys, both the district’s and your own, wish to contact me.” He dropped a few business cards on the desk, and then we all stood up and went out of the office. He led us back to the front door. He stopped there.

“Carl, you stay here. Go to your regular class. If there is any trouble from the teachers or the administration, let your Dad know and he will call me. Don’t do one damn thing that will get you in trouble, okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I agreed.

“Is this for real?” asked my dad.

“What the orders? Sure. I play golf with the judge. He’d have to recuse himself, but it will never get that far. Those two are so buffaloed it’s not funny. It’s like Carl said yesterday, a detective beats a bus driver any day of the week. The arrest just nailed them to the cross.” He smiled at me. “Are you in the Boy Scouts, by any chance?”

Where the fuck did that come from? “Uh, yes sir, Troop 896.”

“St. Paul’s? Good for you? First Class yet?”

“Second, but almost to First. Why?”

“I’m the Adviser to an Explorer Post in Timonium. You can transfer when you turn fourteen. I want you to think about it.”

Holy shit! Now I knew where I remembered him from! I had joined that Explorer Post anyway. All I remembered of the leadership was that the Adviser was a rich lawyer, and his son was the Post President. Nobody cared, though, since he had a monstrously large SUV that could haul the trailer with all our gear. They specialized in white water rafting, which I thought was infinitely cool!

“What’s the specialty?”

“White water canoeing and rafting. We even have our own canoes and rafts,” he replied.

“Cool! I promise, I’ll give it some thought!”

“Good. We can use a guy like you.” He shook our hands and headed out, followed closely by my father. His words were more succinct, telling me to stay out of trouble, ‘or else!’

It was about half past when I finished with Dad and Mr. Steiner, already fifteen minutes into the second period. According to the schedule in my binder, I was supposed to be in English class in Room 214 with Mrs. Turnbull. I couldn’t remember where 214 was and barely remembered her. First, I had to find my locker and dump my crap off. I rooted out my binder and found my locker number and combination taped to the front inside cover. High security, you bet!

I wandered around the halls getting familiarized to an extent and found my locker. Boy, that was like looking into a time capsule! I would need to sort through that at some point. I tossed my bag and jacket in there and went off in search of 214. Finding it, I looked through the window in the door and saw Mrs. Turnbull standing near a blackboard at one end of the room. I moved on to the other door and slid in through the back.

There was no hope of doing this secretively. Mrs. Turnbull stopped and stared at me as everyone in the room turned in their chairs and looked at me, goggle eyed and slack jawed. A memory came back, and I realized that the empty chair in the fourth row on the right was mine. I made my way over and slid into it.

“Welcome back, Mr. Buckman. I had heard you were no longer with us,” said Mrs. Turnbull. She was a nondescript but witty and sharp woman in her forties.

“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated,” I replied.

She smiled. “So I gather, Mr. Twain, so I gather. Might I assume you will continue to grace us with your presence in the foreseeable future?”

“And a most gracious presence it will be!” Mrs. Turnbull had enjoyed witty repartee back in the day. She didn’t mind a student arguing or disagreeing with her, just so long as they used good English, proper phrasing, and didn’t swear or insult.

She nodded at me. “We’ll see about that.” She went back towards the board and resumed her lecture.

As soon as Turnbull’s back was turned, when she began to write something on the blackboard, Katie Lowenthal, who sat next to me turned and whispered, “What happened! I saw you go to jail!”

Without turning, Mrs. Turnbull loudly said, “Miss Lowenthal, questions such as that are best answered after school. Would you like a detention later to allow you time to make a list?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then spare the discussion until after class.”

Katie gave me a dirty look, but I just shrugged my shoulders. Katie was one of my best friends in school, and she was a girl, but she was never a girlfriend. We had known each other since our days at Hampton Elementary. She was another college prep kid, scary smart, and we could talk about anything. She was rather roly-poly throughout our time in school. We lost track of each other after graduation, when I moved hundreds of miles away and stayed away but ran across each other at our twenty-year reunion. She had become a doctor, was doing research in oncology, and was living in Southern California. She had slimmed down, had an amazing tan, and looked very foxy. I got the impression she might have been interested in a little reunion get-together on our own later, but I was with Marilyn and just smiled away the tentative approach.

Anyway, that was all years in the future, or the past, or something. We muddled through the remainder of the class, and I could feel the occasional stares as people wondered what I was doing here. The fight on the bus, the expulsion, and the three boys in the hospital would have been amazing in themselves but add that I was arrested and hauled off in handcuffs and you just knew that I was the talk of the last couple of days. Now I show back up like nothing has happened.

As soon as I got out of the class to the hallway Katie was in my face, with some other friends around us. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in jail!”

“Yeah, you escape or something?” asked somebody behind her.

I just gave a laugh. “It’s nothing like that. I was never arrested. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“No, it wasn’t! I saw the police put the cuffs on you!” she protested.

I just leaned against a wall of lockers. “Yeah, but that was because the bus driver screwed up. That’s why the police were here later that morning. Did they talk to you then?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, me and Betty and Ray. They wanted to know what happened. It was kind of cool. Ray said he asked if you were going to jail but the police officer wouldn’t say. Mr. Warner stayed with us the entire time and the police officer kept telling him to let us talk. He kept trying to tell what happened, like he was there or something.”

“Figures. Anyway, as soon as they knew what really happened, I went home. It’s no big deal.”

“It is too a big deal! They had you in handcuffs like on TV. Did they fingerprint you? Take your picture?” Ray Shorn had come up next to Katie and was hitting me with all sorts of questions. He was one of the normal kids but was a good guy anyway. He lived three houses up and across the street, and when we were little, we had made a tree fort in the woods behind his house.

“Nope. None of that. They just asked me some questions and sent me home.”

“What about the Strutters and Tewkesie? What happened to them?” asked Katie.

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen them? They haven’t been to school?” I asked innocently.

She stared at me. “They all went off in a couple of ambulances. There was so much blood that Marcie fainted, and little Billy Smith puked up breakfast all over his brother.”

Ray laughed. “Yeah, it was so cool!”

So much for being innocent. That was pretty funny, in a black comedy sort of way. I had to smile at that and shrug. “Hey, they started it, not me.”

Chapter 5 »

 

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