Chapter 7

So much for Mrs. Devers having some information for me that day. I spent the rest of the week -- still naked, of course, not that I minded -- waiting for some word from her, while avoiding my lunchtime friends. I knew eating with them would be like being pecked to death by ducks. They knew me too well. They'd be coming at me from every direction, trying to find out what I knew, what was going on, and I was afraid I couldn't stand up to their assault.

Oh, sure, I'd see them during classes that we shared, bump into them in the hallways, but there was no time for them to gang up and get their teeth into me during those brief head-to-head encounters. All of them together for a half an hour at the lunch table, well, they'd be piranhas in a feeding frenzy, in the nicest possible way, of course. The very thought of it destroyed my appetite. I brought my lunch, seeking out secluded corners where I could safely enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in peace.

One day I went to the athletic wing to eat by the school's indoor pool, only it was empty, still undergoing maintenance. The hollowness really bothered me, it echoed every little sound. The comforting smell of chlorine was missing, replaced by a fresh-paint smell. I remembered this was where I'd first met Greg and I wondered if we'd ever have a really good time together, alone. The whole world seemed to be conspiring against us.

Another day, after wolfing down my sandwich in a stairwell, I spent my lunch period wandering the halls. As long as I looked like I knew where I was going, with something like a book in my hand, the hall monitors ignored me. With two lunch periods, half the school was eating, the rest working, so some classes were in session. I'd pause outside them and eavesdrop, listen as teachers asked questions, fighting the urge to stick my head in and contribute when no one answered.

By Friday I was really lonely, so I skulked my way down the corridor to the art studio.

By the way, it is very hard to skulk when you're on your way to being six feet tall -- yeah, I'm still growing -- and built like a trufula tree. The Stick kept prodding me to stand tall.

Anyway, I told myself I was going to see Kathy 'cause I'd promised Steph to make sure Kathy ate, rather than admitting my cowardice avoiding my friends.

Yeah, The Stick got on me about that, too. She doesn't let me lie even to myself.

When I'd made my lunch I'd even planned for this, arming myself with an extra sandwich and a bunch of fat, juicy green grapes, and I'd fed a vending machine enough quarters for a couple of milks to wash them down. No sugary sodas in this school, no siree, only water and milk (chocolate and white, both non-fat) and juices that actually came from fruit, with no high fructose corn syrup or sweetener, other than white grape juice, that is, used so the bottler could maintain the purity of their 100% juice product.

Not that I'm complaining. I don't like sugary sodas.

I found Kathy mashing a wad of clay into submission before beginning a new sculpture.

"Dee! Come on in!"

"I haven't been avoiding you," I apologized in advance, "it's just been a chaotic week."

After throwing a damp rag over the clay she gathered me into her embrace and I could feel the tension just flowing out of me, and I knew I should have come here sooner. She was dressed in a tee and jeans, with a big, floppy, paint stained man's shirt for a smock. She had that wonderful scent of art stuff, this time damp clay against the background of oil paints, linseed oil, and turpentine. She felt so good against me and I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra, her firm breasts two cushions against me, and neither was I -- I wasn't wearing anything, of course -- and if her hands were smearing my naked back with clay I really didn't care as I pressed myself against her. By lifting my chin just a little bit I could snuggle my cheek to hers, my pulse point to hers, savoring that oh-so intimate contact, just breathing in her scent. Her hands slid down to my butt, cupped my ass, pulling me hard against her for a long, luscious time.

Then she held me at arms length and looked me up and down in a way that had me blushing, my nipples enjoying her study.

"I heard you got put in The Program for mouthing off to Worthington. I'm sorry that happened, but I love seeing you like this. Did you come to pose for me?"

"I brought you lunch," I answered. "It's only peanut butter and jelly..."

"Oh boy! You can pose later, I'm famished. I forgot to eat again," she confessed, making a place for us at one of the tables. "Thanks!"

For a few minutes all we did was eat.

"So, I've heard rumors involving you and The Program..."

"I can't talk about it," I interrupted.

She looked at me with a sympathetic smile. "Then I won't ask."

"Thanks." I sighed. "I got myself in another mess. I thought high school would be simpler than middle school. When I got here I expected I'd get to dive, and swim, and have fun, and learn exciting stuff."

"Why can't you dive and swim? Are you sick?"

"No, but the pool is closed for maintenance for another week."

"Bummer."

I nodded agreement.

"Well, so much for diving and swimming. I won't ask about fun, but what exciting stuff are you learning?"

So I told her about my classes. I pretty much liked them, though Frau Blucher was a bit intimidating. Bio was fun, and I really liked algebra. English with Mr. Turner was a joy, lots of interesting reading, like Shakespeare.

"Did you know that Juliet was only about my age?"

She nodded, smiling that wonderful smile of hers. I told her how I got to use the stuff I'd learned in language arts last year. And how sometimes I'd start to look something up in the dictionary or encyclopedia and find myself just reading until I'd forgotten what I'd started to look up.

"Not all the exciting stuff you'll learn comes from books and classes," she pointed out. "There are a lot of lessons picked up just in surviving this place. It's a lot like middle school in that way, only more intense."

"I'm finding that out. It must have been hard for you." Then I really felt stupid. Of course it had to have been hard, she's gay, and she'd come out her sophomore year, to her parents and the school, both! "Sorry."

She wasn't offended. She smiled. "Well, yeah, but it wasn't like I didn't know I was different. I'd known that for years, but hid it well, though my parents already suspected. It was admitting to other people I was gay that was hard, but keeping the secret was harder. One thing I learned from that is that some of my friends weren't the friends I thought they were, and people I hardly knew became true friends, like Beth and Carl, and Stephanie."

"How is Stephanie? Do you hear from her?"

"Every day, we email. She was homesick for a while, but excited about her music. She's studying music theory and composition and all sorts of other stuff besides just flute, and she gets to play every day until her lips and fingers are sore. Sometimes she sends me an MP3 of something she's learning. She's even sent me parts of a flute sonata she's composing. It's so beautiful I'm trying to think how to paint it. How are Carl and Beth?"

"They're good. I miss Carl a lot, but he emails me, and so does Beth, but not every day. College keeps 'em real busy. They haven't said, but I bet they IM or chat every night, maybe even web cam."

Kathy's eyes sparkled. "That would be very interesting to hack into, don't you think?"

I had an image of them, in front of their computers, masturbating for each other and felt a rush. I looked at Kathy, and it was like she was reading my mind and I blushed, and so did she. I knew we were both thinking the same thing, and it wasn't about posing, but my lunch period was almost up, so I knew there wasn't time and gathered up the leftovers.

"Here, before you dash off, take a shot at this." She uncovered the shapeless lump of clay.

"What should I do?"

"Just squish it, push it around, roll it up, flatten it out, punch it, whatever you want. It's a great way to relieve stress."

So I tried it, and wound up whacking the heck out of it before I quit. She was right! I felt better.

"I'll be here, if you want to come by after school," she offered hopefully as I washed clay off my hands. "Maybe you could bring Greg."

That was an offer I couldn't refuse, but the way stuff was, what if I couldn't make it? "I'll let you know if I can't make it."

She shook her head. "I've got stuff to do here. How about, if you're not here by 4:30 I'll figure you won't be coming."

That didn't seem very fair, like sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring, and I told her so.

She her strong hands cupped my cheeks and she drew me toward her. Her kiss -- oh, her kiss. It was so deep, and kind, and loving, and giving, and sharing, and wanting. "For you..."

I was trying to catch my breath. She didn't play fair, and I told her so.

"All's fair," she responded fondly.

"I'll be here," I breathed softly to her. "I'll be here. But don't wait past four o'clock. I've -- got something hanging..."

I was hoping, praying, that maybe Devers would have something for me by the end of the day, like, as in, she'd tell me to forget the whole thing.

"I'll wait all night, if that's what it takes."

I almost wanted to cry.

"No, oh no, don't do that. I want to come, but if I can't make it by four, don't wait."

God, it was like some scene out of Romeo and Juliet! How is it she could affect me like this? And how could I possibly affect her that way, her of all people? And the chance to be here with Greg? And how would that play out?

Shit! She was not making life any easier for me, but how could I possibly hate her for it?

I fled.

I wound up dodging an influx of students pouring down the corridor, and as I fought the tide to get to my next class I collided with Inez.

"Where've you been?" she asked, her dark eyes stormy. "The Devil's after you! She came to the lunchroom herself, looking for you."

"Shit! What'd you tell her?"

"What could we tell her? We told her we didn't know where you were! You weren't there yesterday, or the day before. What's going on with you, anyway?"

My mind was racing as I plotted a route to German class that would take me past Devers's office. "Can't talk now. Thanks for letting me know. Gotta run!"

"But..."

I didn't stay to hear what she wanted to say. I didn't dare really run -- the traffic patrol would nail me and I'd only be held up longer, in addition to getting detention -- but I did one heck of a race-walk. You know that wacky gait you see only at the Olympics, arms pumping, hips whipping from side to side, making sure it was one foot on the ground at all times, heel first, and I was stark naked, remember, zigging and zagging through the crowd, my tail stuck out and snapping from side to side like a happy Schnauzer's butt.

I got some really strange looks, and slipped away from more than one request -- reasonable or not I didn't take the time to figure out -- with a "got an emergency, see me later" over my shoulder. If I got reported to Worthington for that he'd have me strapped to a bench for a real pasting with his ruler -- corporal punishment was still on the books, would be until we got it off, one of the first things on my agenda. I'd heard he'd used it on a 10th grade girl on Tuesday when she forgot and used the girls' bathroom -- by all reports he really enjoyed reducing her to tears, the perverted creep.

But I didn't dare pause, even for a quick feel. I had German class next, and Blucher was a real Prussian so I knew I had to push it. I think Bismarck was her grandfather or something.

I did one of my slip-skid-squeak stops at Vice Principal Devers's office. Clinging to the door-frame, I stuck my head in. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes, I've got news. We need to talk."

"Can it wait until after school? I've got German, and I need to pee!"

"See me after school," she agreed. "It shouldn't take long. Now, off you go!"

"Thanks," I puffed, relieved she wasn't mad at me, and headed for German, but before that I had to go to the bathroom. For a second I almost forgot and used the girls' room, but caught myself. Some boys saw where I was heading and formed a sort of comet trail behind me as I banged in the door of the boys' bathroom.

"Here, hold this." I shoved my backpack in one guy's hands. Grateful I didn't need to wrestle with pants and panties I dove for a stall, plunking my naked ass down on the toilet as another guy held the stall door open, affording me no privacy. Frankly I was so desperate I didn't care. As they watched between my open legs, looking over each other's shoulders like gawkers at an accident, I released a flood of warm, fragrant piss, sighing with relief as it hissed and splashed in the toilet.

Oh shit! Even this was a turn-on! I was a total perv! I even made a point of being very thorough and careful as I wiped myself, giving them a tantalizing view of my inner secrets. I gave them a nice view up my butt when I bent to flush the toilet, of course. There wasn't a limp dick in the bathroom as I retrieved my backpack and dashed out, my anonymous voyeurs trailing behind, grinning and walking funny, their stiff dicks tenting their trousers.

God, if I got my period, would I even let them see me insert a tampon?

Given my exhibitionist tendencies, I had to admit I probably would. Then I thought of disposing of the used one in front of them. Ick!

I made it to German just in time, whipped my towel down to sit on, and managed to reset my mind into Deutsch mode, trying to get my head around the masculine, feminine and neuter gender of objects I'd always simply thought of things as "it" rather than as a "he" or a "she."

In English it's the book, or the pencil, or a book or a pencil. But, like, in German "the pencil" is a he, "der Bleistift," and "the book" is an it, as in "das Buch." The gender is in the article, the. Die (pronounced like my name) is feminine, der (sort of dayr) is masculine, and das (dahss) is neuter. And a car can be "das Auto" (neuter) or "der Wagen" (masculine) but Ford or Chevy is always masculine (der Ford, der Volkswagen), and all nouns are capitalized, not just proper nouns.

Oh, and the indefinite articles -- a and an -- are also different, ein and eine and ein, masculine, feminine and neuter respectively.

There are some rules to clue you in as to the gender of a noun, but there are so many exceptions -- aren't there always -- you just have to memorize this stuff. And, just to keep you on your toes, "girl," which you'd figure to be feminine, is masculine, "das/ein Madchen," while woman, single or married, is "die/eine Fraulein" or "Frau," feminine.

Go figure! And I'm leaving out the "umlaut" 'cause it's not on my keyboard -- that's two dots over letters like "a" and "o" and "u" and it changes the pronunciation into sort of an "eh" or "ee" sound, and I won't bore you with any more of this stuff.

After my last class of the day I had to shift back to Devers mode as I made my way to her office and knocked on the door, entering when she waved me in, closing the door behind me, and carefully putting my towel down before I sat.

"Have you been skipping lunch?" she began, concerned. "Your friends said you hadn't been there for a couple of days."

"I've been bringing sandwiches and avoiding them," I admitted. "They know I know something, and I was afraid they'd pry it out of me."

She looked understanding. "I'm sorry it took longer than I anticipated. Keeping secrets from your friends is hard, I know. Well, on Monday, all will be made clear, or at least some of it will be. We got the okay and we'll announce the program participants for the week as usual, including Mr. Worthington as the first faculty participant."

"The first?"

She nodded. "It was decided that one faculty member will be in The Program each week so they can be more sympathetic to what the students undergo. We had to get approval from the teachers' union. That took some doing, I tell you! That's why there was a delay. We didn't want to single out any one faculty member."

I tried to get my mind around Frau Blucher in the nude -- she's, well, rather mature, and built like a fire hydrant -- and decided maybe there should be some exceptions made.