Chapter 15

"Should I tie you to the chair and gag you?"

"I'll be good," I assured Mrs. Devers.

I knew she wasn't serious, and besides, much as I might have enjoyed being dommed by her this was definitely not the time or the place. Friday's archery followed by a lusty weekend with Missy and Maria had cooled me down, and I'd come to the conclusion that ripping someone's throat out was not a way to get to know them. As to getting closer to my enemies than I was to my friends, I'd decided that might depend on how they smelled -- my enemies, that is. Over the weekend I'd confirmed that my friends smelled -- and tasted -- just fine.

"Do you want them all at once, or one at a time?" Mrs. Devers was holding out what I assumed was the list of the offenders. "There's only three."

I reached for it. "You're asking me what to do?"

"I told you when I asked you to come in early. Since you chair SACNISP, and it was your bike, I think you should be in on this. However, the guillotine is not an option."

"Too bad." Assuming it was guys, what I imagined on the chopping block wasn't their necks. That image vanished when the first name on the list turned out to be a girl. The second was a guy I knew only by reputation. The third name...

I pointed. "Leave him for last. My bet is he conned the others into doing his dirty work."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You know him?"

"We have a history."

"Should I know more?"

"Let's just say my head was in the way of his nose, or something like that."

"Uh huh. Well, ladies first, then."

When Kayleigh came into the office I wasn't sure whether she was about to burst into tears or start throwing punches. Her freckles stood out against her pallor. A speedy little forward on the varsity basketball team with a personality to match her red hair, she was not a troublemaker, though I'd heard she threw wicked-sharp elbows on the court. She was also known for her ambidextrous dribble and the piercing whistles she used to signal to teammates as she stormed the lane.

I tried to smile reassuringly. "Hi, Kayleigh."

She nodded tensely, more concerned with Mrs. Devers's mood.

"What happened, Miss Roberts?" Mrs. Devers began in her neutral formal mode.

Kayleigh, all five foot three of her, stood with her hands clasped in front of her. "Honest, I didn't know what they planned. They stopped me as I was leaving the gym. They asked me to warn them when Dee left the pool locker room. He said they were..."

"That was the whistle I heard!"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Dee. I'll help pay for the repairs, even a new bike."

"I hope it won't come to that." I didn't even like to think of it.

"Anyway, I think what you're doing with The Program, the escorts and all, is great. He said he was going to play a practical joke on someone. He didn't say who it was or what it was."

I was already certain who "he" was. The "what" was no joke.

A bit more of Mrs. Devers's gentle questioning confirmed my suspicion.

"Probation?" Mrs. Devers suggested.

I nodded. "I'm really sorry you got sucked in, Kayleigh. I know it wasn't your fault. You didn't know. I don't think I'll need your help with Bessie, but thanks for offering. There is one thing you could do for me."

"Anything."

"Teach me how to whistle like you do?"

"Sure! It's easy, all you have to do is..." Drawing a breath she started to do something with her lips and tongue.

My mouth watered at the sight. She has very pretty lips, and an enticing tongue.

"Not right now," Mrs. Devers stopped her. "Take it outside, after school, please."

"Yes'm."

I promised myself a lesson from her later, hoping maybe it would require some intimate contact.

You're such a slut! The Stick chided me. She's ambidextrous, not ambi-sex-trous.

"You're on probation for the next week, Miss Roberts. I know you didn't mean any harm, but practical jokes easily get out of hand. Next time, say 'no.' I'm sorry I have to send a note to your parents, but this won't go on your permanent record. If they have any questions I'll be happy to meet with them," Mrs. Devers assured her. "Stay out of trouble and we'll forget the whole thing."

Kayleigh didn't look happy, and I sympathized. Depending on the parents, notes home often resulted in house arrest.

"Thank you, ma'am, and I'm really sorry about your bike, Dee."

"Thanks. You didn't know." I knew who was to blame, and it wasn't her, and it wasn't the next guy.

He was a soph, on the hulking side, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, known for showing his strength by crushing beer cans against his forehead. They were usually empty but sometimes he was handed a full one. When that happened the entertainment factor was high, whether the can was open or not.

"He jus' tole me that there was an old bike I could have fun stompin'. I like stompin' stuff."

When Mrs. Devers asked him what sort of stuff he enjoyed "stompin'" he started with beer cans -- preferably full ones even though it was a waste of beer, he liked the spray -- and it got steadily uglier. What he said about caterpillars does not bear repeating and she cut him off when he got to frogs. She gave him a week of detention and a gift certificate good for unlimited appointments with the high school counselor.

When Mrs. Devers sent him on his way I drew a deep breath and braced myself.

If I hadn't known it was Horace I'm not sure I'd have recognized him -- except for the deformed nose I'd inflicted on him back in middle school.

What is it with you and boys' noses? asked The Stick. First it was a bicycle thief, then Horace.

I reminded her Horace's was an accident, more his own fault than mine. And why are you here?

Wouldn't miss it for the world.

Horace had grown a bit but I still topped him and probably always would. But sometime in the last year he'd had a drastic makeover. It was the same ferret face, but instead of his old smelly shambles he was wearing a clean white button-down short-sleeved shirt and crisply creased black slacks. His hair was neatly trimmed and slicked back, his face scrubbed pink, his shoes polished. His former stink of sweat and tobacco smoke or whatever else he had recently inhaled had been replaced by the faint scent of soap.

"Hello, Horace."

"Miss Walker," he greeted me with unexpected formality.

"You've changed." I'd expected him to be in juvie after what he'd tried with Missy.

Mrs. Devers was watching us like it was a tennis match.

"I have seen the light," he responded. "Jesus saves..."

And Moses invests The Stick added rudely. Lordy, lordy, lordy! What hath God wrought?

So. Horace had found religion, or it found him. It must have been an interesting encounter. "Let me guess. You've been born again," I ventured.

"You, too, can be saved, Dee!" he announced. "Even you! Jesus loves you, Dee..."

"Never mind her. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Hicks?" Mrs. Devers asked, interrupting what threatened to become a sermon.

"I've seen the light, Ma'am, and I've dedicated my life to doing God's work," Horace announced with a sincerity that rattled my nerves. I knew that if his lips were moving the chances were high he was lying.

"I'm here to strike fear into the fornicators, and where better to begin than with the Whore of Babylon! That Jezebel. Beware of false prophets..."

"I beg your pardon?" Even Mrs. Devers was stopped by that one.

"Matthew, Chapter 7, Verse 15..."

I swear you could hear the capital letters!

" ... beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves."

The more he rambled on the more certain I was that he was no more born again than I was the Pope. This had to be a cover story, but he was in danger of overplaying his hand. Mrs. Devers was no fool. One of the things that made her so good at her job was her ability to read people. But was she going to call him on it, or let him hang himself?

"I know my Bible, Mr. Hicks!" Mrs. Devers tried to cut him off.

"She is leading our generation down into the fiery pits of hell itself with her lascivious displays and wanton conduct," he continued relentlessly, pointing at me, his bent nose wrinkling as if he smelled brimstone.

While he rambled on I was examining him as if he were some kind of a bug -- a praying mantis came to mind. I'd read that females of that species bite off the male's head at mating, which didn't sound like a bad idea in his case but was totally impractical. Mate with him? I'd rather crawl in bed with a scorpion. Besides, I didn't have the teeth for decapitation.

He reminded me of someone, but who? It wasn't a face-to-face encounter, just something I'd overheard in passing. Setting that aside for the moment I found myself thinking of Ms. Andrews's advice about keeping your enemies closer. Yuck!

On the other hand, I needed to know who else in school was in on this, and who was behind it. Prying that out of him might require some sacrifices on my part.

"I had to do something to stop her!" he concluded, finally pausing for breath. Apparently his only speech impediment was the need for air.

"Are you admitting you're responsible for what happened to Miss Walker's bicycle?" Devers asked.

Gotcha! The Stick exulted, even though it wasn't much of a confession.

"I was only doing the Lord's bidding. I am but a tool in the hands of God! It was a warning to her of the Lord's wrath to come if she doesn't mend her ways. Then the LORD rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the LORD out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities..."

Mrs. Devers's "ENOUGH!" wasn't really loud. It was more of a whip-crack, but it cut him off.

Thank God, The Stick said, if you'll pardon the expression.

"Genesis, Chapter 19..."

"Yes, Mr. Hicks, we know," Mrs. Devers went on wearily, looking at me. "I think we can make the case that we're looking at an offense against The Program, don't you, Dee?"

I nodded. Ah me. How was I going to handle this one?

"What are our options?"

I thought I already knew, but I was scrambling for a foothold.

It is better having him inside the tent pissing out than outside it pissing in, The Stick suggested.

Where the hell did you come up with that one? I asked her.

You must have read it someplace. I only know what you know, The Stick responded.

Damn! That's what comes of not watching TV. I read too much. But if this was what we were dealing with I decided I'd better put the Bible back on my reading list. I tried it once. The poetry of the King James Version appealed to me, but the plot dragged a bit. Maybe there's an abridged version. As for faith, I'm still working on that. I figure I might have a handle on it in seventy or eighty years.

Meanwhile, Horace was taking a breath like he wanted to suck the oxygen out of the room and I was afraid he was going to start in again.

Before he could, Mrs. Devers picked up a well-thumbed copy of something more ponderous than the simple Program pamphlet given to us peons. "Our options range from compulsory participation in The Program to suspension, but ... Ah, here it is, and I quote, 'Criminal acts by or upon Program students will be dealt with by local law enforcement.' Vandalism is a criminal act, Mr. Hicks, but before we call the cops I'll go on. 'Note that sex crimes by or committed upon participants will be dealt with using the utmost severity under the new federal sentencing guidelines.'"

That put a stopper to Horace's next tirade. Even though assaulting Bessie was hardly a sex crime, the Missy affair certainly had been, and he knew it. I'd been surprised Missy's mom hadn't pressed an attempted rape charge. The juvie judge must have gone easy on him, but Horace might still be on probation or something and this might put him back in the slammer.

Judging by his pallor he suddenly wasn't feeling so divinely protected.

So what should I do? Remembering our chess analogy I could probably have him removed from the board just by pressing charges, but if I was going to learn anything from him I needed him.

"Let me have him for the week. Maybe I can enlighten him."

Mrs. Devers eyed me warily.

I held my hands up. "I won't lay a finger on him. Promise."

How about a foot up his ass? asked The Stick.

I ignored her.

"Unless he does something to deserve it," I amended, not wanting to box myself in.

"Very well, you're welcome to him. I assume you want him naked in school."

I saw naked fear in his eyes -- or maybe that was "fear of nakedness" -- and he was holding his breath. What a satisfying reaction. It's funny how some people react to the threat of exposure. But after a few days in The Program most adjust well.

What if I put the shoe on the other foot? How well would his devout facade hold up in the face of a naked Dee? Considering how he'd cracked under Missy's flirtatious displays in middle school...

"You know I don't like The Program being used as punishment," I answered as he began to turn blue.

She looked at me quizzically.

"He won't be naked, I will." I was confident I could avoid being raped. If nothing else I was about six inches taller and had muscle in places he didn't even have. Besides, Maria had taught me some literally kick-ass self-defense moves.

And if he tried I'd really have him where I wanted him.

Horace let out a whoosh that made my ears pop. Mrs. Devers shook her head with that slight smile that appeared when she knew I had some scheme cooking. I got up and unbuttoned the nice shirt I was wearing in honor of this occasion.

"May I leave my clothes here? Oh, and would you be willing to have someone call his home and tell them he'll be late today?"

"How late?"

"Well, there's the SACNISP meeting after school. He should see that, and then I have to visit Bessie in the hospital and see how she's coming along. I think she should meet him."

Very close up. Face to handlebars, in fact, The Stick suggested maliciously.

"I'll get him home by supper. Oh, and if I can have a copy of his class schedule, please? I'll need to keep track of him during the day."

Mrs. Devers nodded. "I can do that."

God, I love that woman. The stuff she lets me get away with! My encroaching nudity was having an effect on Horace.

"Cover yourself you ... you ... TEMPTRESS! You wanton slut! You shameless whore!" Horace erupted, retreating to the evangelical role he'd chosen. Or had someone chosen it for him?

"Put a cork in it, Mister Hicks!"

"I'll not be swayed by her wanton ways!"

"Would you rather be naked instead?" I asked innocently.

His voice trailed off to a mumble as I shed my clothes.

"What's that you say?" I asked as I shed my shorts. "Make up your mind, I'm almost done here."

It doesn't take me long to get down to skin. I credit the lack of a bra and years of practice starting when my brother was in The Program. All I had left was panties and they were on the way down, though I did keep my shoes on. Horace was looking everywhere but at me and I found that a trifle insulting.

Finally he dramatically buried his eyes in the crook of his elbow, trying to shoo me away with his free hand. "Get thee behind me, Satan! If my eye offendeth me..."

"Oh, climb down from your pulpit, Horace," I snorted. "You've seen naked girls before. You've seen ME naked before, remember?"

"To my everlasting shame! I was young and foolish. Forgive me, Jesus..."

"Oh stuff it. It's plain to see you have no concept of what The Program is really all about. You're about to learn. You and I are going to be joined at the hip for the next week, and I am going to be naked the whole time. You're gonna get to know me, and I'm gonna get to know you, probably better than I want to," I admitted, hoping he'd not take that as a serious warning. I needed to keep him off guard. "Now come on. Other than in class you are with me for the duration."

"And if... ?"

"If you try to get away I'll make the wrath of God the least of your worries. One of the punishments allowed under the rules of The Program is a public spanking. I don't approve of it, but in your case I will make an exception. I'm also sure Mrs. Devers will back me if I decide to put you naked in school and keep you that way for a month."

I didn't miss the smirk Mrs. Devers gave me as I dragged him out of the office by the hand.

"I been spanked before," he grumbled, his biblical grammar slipping. "It don't scare me."

That didn't surprise me. Who knows, maybe he enjoyed it. The halls were filling, and, for whatever reason, he was still doing everything he could to avoid looking at me, so I stopped and swung him around to face me.