58: Rewired

"Good morning, girlfriend," I said as Rhonda bounced into the kitchen on Saturday morning and gave me a kiss. Just a friendly 'hello boyfriend' kiss—not a kiss with intent. I was getting to the point where even I could tell the difference.

"Good morning, best boyfriend in the world," she said. She'd been riding hard this morning to get here by six-fifteen.

"What makes me 'best boyfriend in the world, ' my sweet?"

"Who else would get up and make his girlfriend breakfast at six-thirty in the morning when she didn't even sleep with him the night before?"

"Is that what it means when I say I'd like to make you dinner, and breakfast the next day?" I laughed. "Bread's almost out of the oven."

"You are so good to me," Rhonda sighed. "I really don't deserve you." I pulled the bread out and broke off a hot chunk. I smeared it with the butter I had softening and sat next to my pixie girlfriend. I fed her the hot morsel as I spoke.

"My love, this will always be our special time. What other two people in the world get up at this hour? This will always be our time together."

"I do love you, Brian," she sighed. "Coffee?" I got her a mug and poured the bitter liquid, then put cream and sugar in it for her. "Mmm. How can those Kokomo girls prefer chocolate in the morning? You know, it isn't all as icky as I thought it was last year. I like hugging you a lot. When you hold me in your arms I feel safe and secure and ... I just know how much you love me. I don't just 'spritz my pants, ' as Samantha says. It's not like I don't get wet ... down there ... ever. It's just that it's usually more of an irritation than an excitement. My head knows that my body is getting ready. My heart knows that I love you. They just aren't wired together."

"Sweetheart, you know I love you. You know I get really turned on when I'm around you. I guess that's the term for having your body and your heart wired together. But I respect where you are. Like you say, it's not that icky anymore. Maybe someday it will be exciting, too." We'd talked about this before. Rhonda was even willing to let me kiss her and a few times even touch her breasts. But she was right. It didn't do for her what it did for me, so I never tried to push it.

"That's why you are the best boyfriend ever," she repeated. "Are you making eggs, or just bread?" I laughed. I went back to the stove and started her omelet. I had everything ready for it.

"It's going to be a crazy week this week with basketball practice starting. I feel like I haven't had time to breathe this fall. I'm so glad the elections are over. Maybe life will get back to normal."

"People wore normal clothes to school Wednesday."

"Yeah. I like my prison shirt, but I've got some other clothes I'd like to wear."

"With two buttons unbuttoned."

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you with all your buttons unbuttoned."

"Really? I'll show you."

"Honey, stop." She was pulling her shirt up. "I was joking around. I love it when I see you and when I touch you, but I always want it to be special times—not when I'm just joking."

"You know, don't you?" she asked. "I'll always do whatever you want, Brian. Just tell me. I know it means a lot to you."

"It means a lot that you love me that much, but I love you enough not to ask. Too often," I laughed. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

"You need more girlfriends who are sixteen."

"Huh?"

"You need to fool around more and you only have Jennifer and Courtney. And they're too far away."

"I don't need to..."

"Brian, Donna's seventeen."

"Honey, I love your sister, but she is only just a little more ready than you. I wouldn't push her any more than I'd push you."

"But she'd let you. And if you wanted, you could imagine it was me." I looked at Rhonda, stunned. "She said," she whispered. I gave her the omelet and sat next to her with my arm around her and my head on her shoulder while she ate.

"Honey, you and your sister are a lot alike." How am I going to say this? "You know, though, that I won't ever say what I do with her or with any other girlfriend. I don't know where you get your information, but it's not from me."

"Girls talk," she sighed. "Seems like they all talk to me a lot. I don't even think they talk to each other that much. I just know what every one of your girlfriends wants. Like Cassie..."

"Sweetheart, please don't tell me. They talk to you because you are their friend and confidante. They feel safe with you. Don't tell me what they've told you. And it's true that Donna is a lot like you and that often makes me think of you when I'm with her. But, Honey, you taught me this and I learned it. I love Donna because she is Donna, not because she is like you. Even if a thought of you crosses my mind when I'm with her, I would never touch Donna because I'm thinking of you. I'll touch her because I love her. Are you okay with that, sweetheart?"

"See? You are just the best boyfriend ever. To all of us!"

We were well into the first week of basketball practice and I was dragging my butt to school an hour early in the mornings to meet Whitney for our martial arts workout—what she called Tai Chi—and then practicing for two hours after school. Coach Hancock was being hard on us and apparently trying to see if we had any guts at all. We lost half our varsity basketball team at graduation last year, including three starters. It was a great opportunity for some of our JV players to move up. Ty, Josh, Derek, and Carl had all been promoted to varsity. Doug was moved on Wednesday the first week of practice when one of the juniors twisted an ankle. The team was seriously height-challenged compared to last year. Troy and Lionel, the two remaining starters from last year, were anchoring the varsity team.

That meant that our JV team had it even harder. Bert, Whitney, Sean, and I had a lot of playing time last year. Joe and Phil returned as all-round players and it was likely they'd see a lot of play-time at forward. Phil was the third tallest on our team next to Sean and a new ninth grade player named Barry. He was nowhere near as tall as Lionel, but just about the same as Sean's six-five. We kind of figured that if he'd reduce the size of the chip on his shoulders he'd be able to jump higher. He was sure no Lionel and made a lot of snide comments about having to play ball with a bunch of lilies. George, who I'd worked with on our School Board campaign, made the team. He was aggressive under the boards, but a little clumsy. He was still growing into a new body and size fourteen shoes that he fell over more than once. I was really happy that Geoff and his brother John both made the team. We'd sure spent enough summer nights shooting hoops as we were growing up. It was good to have a couple more friends on the team.

Thursday, a messenger from the office showed up about ten minutes into my fifth period Algebra II class with Mr. Harshbarger. "Brian Frost," Mr. Harshbarger said softly. We always had to pay close attention because he was so soft spoken, but I loved this class. He was some kind of mathematical genius and I couldn't figure out why he was just teaching high school. "You've been summoned." I glanced at Donna and she said she'd keep notes. I went to the office.

I was ushered right into Mr. Darnell's office and found Cassie sitting in front of him. He motioned me to the other chair.

"Well, let's get right to this, shall we?" Mr. Darnell said. "It affects both of you, though the complaint was lodged in reference to you, Brian. It came up as a question regarding your eligibility to play basketball. From there, the question arose as to why either of you were in school."

"Who raised these questions?" I asked. I was thinking we might have another big campaign coming up.

"Our duly elected School Board," the principal said. "They are stinging from a defeat at the polls, but are determined to continue pressing their agenda with irreversible decisions before the new Board takes office in January. They are, if anything, a bit vindictive toward you. It was their understanding that you were being expelled." I remembered Dr. Dewey saying on television that he was starting expulsion proceedings against us the day he suspended all the students in the school. Shit!

"Are we being expelled?"

"Well, I think we should look at your files. Do you mind if we look at them together?" Cassie and I looked at each other. Something was going on here. We both just nodded. "Cassandra, I see that you were elected president of your class. Congratulations. You have good grades. I don't see any reference to any complaints or proceedings against you. There's nothing in your file regarding any suspensions or expulsion. You do have one half-day unexcused absence on your record. I'm sure you simply forgot a Doctor's excuse that day. We'll overlook it. Now, Brian. Your file is a slightly different matter. Hmm. Were you two playing hooky together? You also have a half-day unexcused absence. Well. You aren't pregnant, are you, Cassandra?"

"No sir! How would I get pregnant?"

"Oh, the usual way, I suppose. That's often what happens when we see a boy and girl with an unexcused absence at the same time. But, no harm, no foul in my book. We'll just take that absence off both of your records. Now, Brian, you also have this pink slip for a PDA in the cafeteria. Unfortunately, your accuser did not specify a partner. Were you kissing yourself?"

"Uh ... noooo," I said.

"Well, you can't have a PDA unless there are two people involved." He wadded up the pink slip and threw it in the wastebasket. "I don't find any other record of suspension or expulsion in your files. Nice grades, by the way, Brian. You know we have a new cooperative program with the IU extension for dual credit classes? You should investigate that next year. It's a great way to have the School District pay for part of your college education. Oh. Where was I? Your file is the official record of your education at St. Joe Valley High School. Any proceedings against you, disciplinary actions, your grades, and even your participation in and eligibility for extra-curricular activities is in your file. Your files are clean, so I want you both to know that your eligibility is cleared."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"Mr. Darnell, is this likely to come up again? I thought that with Dr. Dewey's resignation and the elections, we wouldn't be plagued by this kind of repercussion," Cassie said.

"The school has strict guidelines regarding disciplinary action," Mr. Darnell said. "You do not have carte blanche nor a special indulgence that keeps you clean. If you violate an enforced school policy, you will be subject to the same penalties as any other student. But, such disciplinary action cannot be initiated by the School Board. They are elected officials. These complaints must be filed by an employee of the District—like me or the Superintendent of Schools."

"But Dr. Dewey..."

"Was great at posturing, but often left paperwork up to other people. He filed no notices of suspension or expulsion against anyone. Mrs. Hoffman, our assistant superintendent and acting superintendent, has declined to make any such complaints. As of today, your records are clear. Good luck to both of you." He stood and offered his hand as we stood. "Mr. Darnell, I suppose it isn't really any of my business, but are you still thinking of retiring this year?" I asked. He smiled at me.

"I'm thinking that I might still have a year or two left in me. This job is too exciting to give up!"

We left the office a little dazed. I looked at Cassie when we got into the hall. She had a wide-eyed startled expression on her face that I quickly discovered was a suppressed grin. Then she lost the battle and broke out laughing. That was all it took. I couldn't hold it in either. I guess that it's a little like an orgasm. If your girlfriend is experiencing one, it's hard not to have one yourself. We were lucky that the bell rang and students started pouring into the halls so we weren't caught making too loud a ruckus.

Saturday, Whitney showed up at my house just as Rhonda was leaving to start her collections. Rhonda and I didn't have a whole lot of time together, so she'd been getting to my place right after she finished delivering papers at six-thirty on Saturdays and staying until collections started at ten. We'd have breakfast and usually go out to brush and feed the horses. Early morning was still our special time together and it was surprising how often we didn't say a word while we cared for the horses. She could usually get through brushing both Gypsy and Princess in the time that it took me to get Jingo taken care of. In addition to the fact that he was huge and took longer to brush, I took extra time with him each morning to make sure his hooves were clean and to put liniment on his front right leg. He was really digging the extra care and the fact that he had a full-time private box stall. At the ranch, there were so many horses that only the ones active for rides were brought in and brushed. The horses lived outside and had a shelter where they were fed and clustered together during bad weather. If the weather got really bad or super cold, the wranglers would bring the horses into the arena and keep them there. It was different when you only had three horses instead of fifty.

When we were finished with the horses and let them out, Rhonda and I would often share a hug and sometimes a long and gentle kiss. I never pushed too much, but I'd noticed that more and more lately, Rhonda was initiating a little tongue touching as we kissed and sometimes hugged me really hard. And then left me hard as she went on her collections. Whitney seemed to have an understanding about our special time together and always showed up just as Rhonda was leaving. They'd have a hug and then Whitney would start drilling me.

It was getting so we could drill each other. It wasn't only her that would bark out the command, "Be a rock," and then butt into the other. She was still a lot more stable than I was, though. If it was raining out, I'd open the garage and pull the car and truck into the driveway so we could work inside. It was pretty cold outside, but we always worked up a sweat.

By noon, we'd played about an hour of one-on-one and had gone into the house. Mom was used to seeing Rhonda and Whitney on Saturday mornings and even laid out a clean towel for Whitney so she could shower when we finished our workouts. I fixed some chili and grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Brian?" I heard Whitney's voice from the stairs and turned the heat off on the chili and sandwiches. I went upstairs. Whitney was standing there wrapped in a towel. Whitney is six-three. A bath towel doesn't really cover everything from nipples to crotch very securely. It was a contest to see which would escape. "May I have a kiss with all privileges from my boyfriend?" she asked. That was a new phrase. I reminded myself that Whitney was not yet sixteen. I pulled her to me and she bent to kiss me. Damn that seven-inch height difference. The towel lost its battle and fell to the floor. "Oh dear," she said softly. "I think I'm naked."