Naked In School: Kelly - Week 2 - Monday (part 08/14)

Monday dawned, warm and clear, our alarm rousing Red and I from a contented boneless slumber. We quickly made use of the bathroom to first drain ourselves and then a shared shower.

We'd gotten used showering as an opportunity for sex play; this morning's session was just another opportunity, though Red took control right away by pushing me against the wall and going down on me. Once her mouth was on me I was at her mercy and she quickly drained me. As always, the feel of her swallowing my seed at the moment I was most sensitive made standing (much less thinking) almost impossible.

As my brain came back from wherever it went, we were soon kissing as she straightened up but my efforts to drop to my knees and reciprocate were halted by Red telling me "Not enough time for you to do it right, all right sweetheart?"

I smiled, sure we'd have another opportunity soon for me to show her my love for her. We kissed again and were soon drying each other. Even working the towel over her body for her (as she did mine) was an opportunity to show tenderness.

On the off chance that I wasn't going to be in The Program this week, I dressed "normally" (or normally for me, prior to last week) and helped Red dress. I was finally getting a good feel for how to dress (and un-dress) a woman and I was quite happy with this additional knowledge, too. That it was Red's clothing (and body) that I knew best provided me a little secret smile to reflect contentment.

We arrived at the school and I heard my name and Pamela's called over the PA along with Tamara's and one of the Joes from the football team. So I was going to be in the Program again. Unlike the looks I got from those who've never been in The Program, mine showed that I didn't have much of a problem with it.

Getting to the office I discovered that I was to be buddied with Tamara while Pamela was buddied to Joe.

Now let me be clear on this: Tamara wasn't my first choice for a partner. I could've coped with Pam especially given that she and Colin were a couple and that there'd be less pressure on me-- and I wouldn't apply any pressure on her.

Besides, this Joe was the one who'd dated Hannah the night before, so I didn't know what kind of reception I was likely to get and I was thinking of how supportive he'd be of Pam.

So the four of us disrobed in the same office. Pam, it seemed, was doing better now, but she was still a bit shaky as she pulled off her top and her extra equipment got a larger audience. I smiled to her, gave her a thumbs up. Joe had not been facing the right way but when he rotated his eyes locked on her chest. It was made obvious by his physical response that he liked what he saw. Pam noticed his interest and physical approval so some of her fears seemed to fade. Tamara's response to seeing Pam's special little extras only caused her to pause, her faces showing some shock. I'd almost swear I saw a flash of fear cross Tamara's face before she put her best face (and her larger tits) forward.

I'd been able to strip quickly enough while Tamara was still trying to draw it out; she looked like the stereotypical stripper, trying to get attention. She didn't get much from me as I folded up my clothes neatly and placed them in the box set aside for me.

Tamara had been naked on Thursday the week before so I had very little interest in seeing what she looked like in the buff again. I was not happy with being paired with her but perhaps there was a reason.

I was specifically reminded that I was there to support Tamara and that Joe was to support Pam and that there were to be no exchanges.

Drat. The smile I saw on Tamara's face at this announcement looked almost predatory. I've learned a lot in the last week or so of how various smiles... vary. Tamara's wasn't done for attractiveness.

We all gathered up our books.

To this day I still don't remember what happened after I left the office.

When Blackie didn't show for Health Class on Monday morning I started worrying. It was the sirens from outside that broke up the class that triggered a general rush to the windows and we watched as a pair of police car arrive escorting an ambulance. We all saw the cops and EMTs rush into the front entrance.

The luck of having a ring-side seat overlooking the entrance to the school turned from good to bad as we saw one of the Joes from the football team being led out of the building in handcuffs. What was most upsetting was how blood-spattered he was. The additional emergency vehicles pulling in did not settle my anxiety.

An EMT ran out to the ambulance and pulled the gurney into the building along with more supply boxes, rushing back into the building.

That's when it hit me. I turned to Mr Somma with the worst nightmare I could imagine on my lips: "Is it Blackie?"

His eyes got real big and he ran to the phone, I watched as he called the office. Whatever answer he got was apparently bad: He turned white before turning to face me, a helpless look on his face. It seemed then that everything turned white...

I came to with Mr Somma hanging over me, asking me if I was all right.

"Where's Blackie?" was all I could ask.

"They're bringing him to the hospital. I heard it's iffy."

I could feel the desire to pass out again to avoid the emotional pain I was starting to feel returning, but, instead, I asked "What happened?"

"Joe Morton stabbed him in the abdomen. I was surprised that he'd managed to sneak a knife into the building despite security."

It seemed strange but the whole class helped me make it to the nurses' office where I got to lay down. I lay there, still feeling wobbly and shaky as she took my vitals. I think I spent some time fading in and out.

As we walked out for the regular "grand unveiling" I took hold of Blackie's arm and curled up to him possessively. I could tell he wasn't all that happy with my move but he let me hang on without making even the tiniest move to shake me off. I was feeling like a million bucks curled up to him as we walked out in front of the crowd.

Last week's day in the buff had been a shock, but this...

It's amazing what Blackie and Red must've gone through last week. I wasn't prepared for this, so I clung tighter to Blackie, who told me it'd be all right.

It'd be all right?

It was a miracle that my boyfriend missed me.

After that I didn't see how anything could be "all right" ever again. Blackie had been wrong.

I walked out next to Pamela, noticing again how she shook, apparently scared of the exposure.

Heck, I wasn't all that happy with the exposure either, but at least I was taller than Blackie. Tammy was only a little bit taller than he was but the way she leaned on him was, well, weird. I held Pam's hand for her to give her some of my support.

It was funny. I knew that Blackie and Red tended to hold hands in the halls and thought it was such a hokey and 1950s kind of thing to do. Between the squeezes we were exchanging during the walk out of the office I learned how much we were able to pass back and forth to buck each other up. I was naked and this helped me feel good. Looking at Pam, it was obvious she wasn't completely relaxed, given how hard all of her nipples must have been.

Damn. Those nipples looked nice.

So I told Pam again that I was there for her, if she needed help, and added that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I even made the comment that "A lot of the other girls will be so jealous of your extras." I even pointed out some of the guys watching whose eye were locked to her chest, their mouths hanging open and hard-ons tenting their pants.

It was while waving to bring this to her attention that I saw the flash of metal.

Now I'm no innocent. I've been around. I've been places where nowadays I really wished to have never been. Hell, I've even been people I wished never to have been. Some things, though, like reacting to various stimuli, as one psych teacher told us, stays with us. So I've faced some threats that I really am glad were behind me.

Only this time it wasn't. Seeing a knife triggers things I would really have preferred to have forgotten.

Now I've been friendly with Joe Morton only because we were both on the football team but, all the same, I've never considered him to be a friend. Seeing him push through the wall of kids on the right side of the so-called "promenade" (I have no idea who made up that sick name) with a hunting knife in his hand was not funny to me... and my fight or flight reflexes lit off.

I've been in knife fights before. Flight doesn't usually work.

The best way to survive in once piece and avoid being turned into scraps is to fight, not flight, and to take the initiative in defeating the person with a knife. I didn't have any weapons but my brain and hands but I got time to make my decisions only because he wasn't aiming for me. If he'd aimed for me more directly I wouldn't have been slowed by confusion.

Enough of me was aware of the situation; Pam was on my right and could be hurt in this fracas, so I released her hand and pushed Pam right out of the line of scrimmage, clearing me to act. She didn't belong in the line of fire with me and I could not afford distractions. Only the fact that the crowd was "friendly" made this a good move. She needed to be protected, and the best protection for her was to get her away from me. I yelled out "Keep her safe!" as I started to move...

Joe Morton was going for a second stab at Blackie's bloody stomach when I first hit him.

Don't ask me how I managed to stop him.

Even afterwards, looking at the videos, I still can't see how I managed it.

By the time I'd gotten the knife away from him we were both covered in blood.

Blackie's, mostly. Some of his ... and even some of mine.

When I finally looked up and around...

I couldn't handle it. I'd failed. It looked like Blackie was bleeding to death, his head in Tamara's lap and Hannah hovering over him.

Because I'd been clinging to Blackie he'd been wide open for Joe's attack.

I spent the minutes after the attack, his head cradled in my lap, crying as I told him I was sorry. The little training I had absorbed on First Aid wasn't enough; it was horrible to realize that I should have known more but I hadn't paid enough attention.

All right, I knew enough to apply pressure to the wound.

Yeah, right. This was an "abdominal stab wound".

Applying pressure was difficult because I realized most of the bleeding was internal. I called Hannah over for help, knowing she'd paid more attention in class; She told me to lay him out straight and she put her own hand on the stab wound. I was told to keep him comfortable.

Blackies eyes met mine as his skin seemed to turn clammy... and he told me "It burns... Tammy, it burns..." and I saw his tears, though they might have been mine.

I was sure, even after the EMTs arrived, that I'd killed him just by clinging to him, keeping him from avoiding my boyfriend.

What had I done? Could he ever forgive me? Could Red ever forgive me? Could even I ever forgive me?

There I was, walking beside Joe Robison, when he suddenly pushes me away from him. First, he went from holding my hand (which felt good to me) and then...

All right, it wasn't a push, it was more of a hard shove. His one arm shoved me and I went flying into the crowd. It was like he'd exploded or something. As some of the kids caught me I heard him yell out something about keeping someone safe.

I'm glad I don't play football against him. I lost sight of what was going on along with the three boys I landed on, all four of us landing in a heap on the floor.

None of the screams I heard told the story. As I got up again I found myself surrounded by boys, all but one with their backs to me, tension obvious in the way they stood, ready. The exception was my boyfriend Colin, who was helping me stand and holding me close.

As things quieted down my human shield opened and I finally got a chance to look at what I'd missed.

I really wished I hadn't.

I didn't get a chance to thank any of my human shields.

Being an epileptic this kind of sudden stress can be a real bitch. I only got a few seconds warning and I squeezed Colin...

The school nurse gave me a rundown on what happened to Blackie and it somehow didn't seem so dire coming from her. I finally had to ask "Any idea why? Blackie isn't exactly the aggressive type, you know. He wouldn't harm a fly!"

I've known for a while that Blackie wasn't a weakling; he was reserved, though, because he felt pain from others too well. I was less sensitive to everyone but Blackie... and was, I think, capable of shooting first and asking questions later, especially in protecting him.

There are times when his approach worked well. Today, it seemed, perhaps my own tendency would have been better.

I really should have been there but he'd told me he'd meet me in Health. I missed him. It hurt, too. Like a part of my own heart had been torn out.

Eventually, though, the mountain came to me; Mr Tilling arrived and asked how I was doing. After a short talk I asked him what was going to happen.

"Joe didn't pay enough attention to the changes in the law enabling The Program, but then maybe most people don't think about it past the most obvious parts. Joe assaulted a participant of The Program, a person who is as unprotected as you can get. Someone with sense realized that additional effort was needed to protect them, and Joe Morton, once convicted, can be facing death. The law directs the D.A. to treat murder-- and attempted murder-- of a Program participant as a first degree murder. There's some other comments about how it's equivalent to killing a policeman or a fire-fighter when they're on duty, since The Program is not a choice."

"Once convicted?" I asked. As far as I knew, a conviction is never a sure thing. He seemed awfully optimistic to me.

Mr Tilling sighed, his eyes turning sad. "He did it in plain sight of everybody outside the office. As if that wasn't stupid enough, it's also where we have the best coverage for our security cameras. This was the first time we've ever really needed them and I hope to God that it'll be the last."

Well, I'd been through the grand unveiling from the other side, so in some ways it would have been a relief that I'd not attended today's. In some ways I was glad I hadn't been a witness; I would probably have tried to take that cold bastard apart, football player or not. The flip-flopping of pain and anger were confusing but seemed to help me keep going for now.

He picked up the thread again with "The photo club likes to be there too, you know, along with the media center. We have a lot of film now of the whole event. Joe Robison came out the hero, you know, along with Tamara Riley and even Hannah Drake. The local TV station has arrived, en masse. Today's schedule is shot all to hell, the campus is just short of locked down and we've announced that class schedules are not suspended so that we've got people circulating. I've directed all of the teachers to deal with this; we're all trained to help deal with the impact everyone will be feeling. A lot of the psychiatrists and psychologists will be getting referrals after this."

I nodded.

"Now, as Blackie's girlfriend, are you willing to talk to the newsies? Assuming they ever get their cameras off of Tamara, Joe and Pam?"

It helped that things had stabilized a bit. "Yes, I'll do that."

"Good. As soon as you're ready, come on down to my office, all right?"

Before he left, I had an odd thought. "Who are you going to get to replace Blackie in The Program this week?"

The long look of sadness on his face almost tore my own heart out. Again. "Please, I don't even want to think about that right now."

I nodded.

I knew it'd take me more than just a few minutes to get myself together enough to head for the office, so I just rested for another fifteen minutes or so.

When I finally got there, the office was mobbed. The cops had taken over the area just outside it and I saw surprising quantities of blood on the floor as the forensics folks photographed the whole scene.

The sound of the cameras and the flashes of light were mixing with a lot of events and even triggered a flashback to our first time together.

I apparently fainted again; I came to in the principals office, the memory of a chalk outline on the floor burned into my soul. I was crying. The sense of permanent loss had increased with the actual evidence.

Looking back, I was a basket case. My mother had to come in to collect me early as we went to the hospital to see about Blackie.

Where my other half was still in surgery.

I can't understate this. Blackie was a part of me. I could feel it. Even though telepathy is fantasy, my own imagination filled in the blanks. It was a torment to think about what they had to do to his body to repair the damage caused by the knife. And I learned that some of the damage wasn't completely reparable.

Talking to his folks I learned that they were still trying to reassemble his intestines, learning that he'd only been stabbed once in the abdomen. Somehow Joe'd managed to destroy Blackie's spleen (I still wonder what a spleen really is for; it never did make much sense to me). We were told there were a lot of possible complications just from the intestinal damage. I spent a lot of the time that day in a daze, switching between crying and just sitting there numb. It was sheer luck that there was no damage at all to either of his kidneys or descending aorta.

The things I was learning about internal anatomy!

Dad was a life-saver for me; as a doctor, he was able to visit Blackie in the recovery room and could speak to his surgery team. We got our hope in little increments from him as he detailed the work, indicating where the problems were likely to be and how the big fight was against sepsis.

I also learned that Blackie was lucky; he wasn't allergic to any antibiotics, even at the dosages he'd be getting.

The quantity of blood he'd lost was staggering. I was still considered under-age so I couldn't donate to the blood bank. Our folks are regular blood-bank volunteers and weren't able to donate again.

When Blackie was transferred to the ICU his folks had them let me in to see him since I was his girlfriend. I got some funny looks from the nursing staff but they did let me in with Ruth, his mom. One nurse seemed startled to see me, looking back and forth between Blackie and myself before smirking. At that moment I realized that she must have seen the video.

I got a pat and squeeze on the shoulder from one of the older nurses who whispered "So now we know who we got. We'll take good care of him for you, sweetie."

Again my Dad was able to be with us to help explain what we were seeing, and that Blackie was going to be kept under for at least a day.

God alone knows how much water I lost that day through my tears. All of the tubes, the click and hiss of the respirator pumping oxygen into his lungs, the electrodes on his chest. He had two different IVs running, one with plasma and the other saline with antibiotics. I was so afraid for him.

That night's dinner with both families together, an empty setting where Blackie would have sat, was somber. So little talk at the table. Even Marc and Marcie were subdued.

My dad kept up checking in with the hospital to get updates on Blackie's condition. I got the distinct impression that the nurses were irritated but understanding.

That night hurt. I've been spoiled by sleeping with Blackie and it didn't feel right to sleep alone. I called Sam and Juenko... and both came right over. It was a surprise but I'd not realized how much they were hurting with me.

Together, the three of us, cried ourselves to sleep.

Even with my company I still felt Blackie's absence.

I heard, when I called Blackie's folks for information, that he stood pretty good odds of recovery, but that it would not be a quick recovery.

After the interviews where I wailed out my feeling of guilt that I'd killed him by holding his arm, I realize that I felt like I'd been a Judas Goat leading him to slaughter. It didn't matter that it was Joe that had attacked with the knife; I'd been there and that was it. I'd not given Blackie a chance to defend himself, all by trying to gain his attention.

He wasn't likely to die, it seemed... but I still felt like I'd helped to kill him. It didn't matter that people thought I'd been smart in attempting first aid and getting Hannah's help. It hurt more to hear that I was being seen as a heroine along with Hannah and Joe. Joe, though, was the heroic one, a naked boy bringing down an armed attacker. I told Hannah that she was lucky to have such a great boyfriend.

While it had been easy to wash the blood off of me it was harder to wash the stain from soul; I think I was starting to better understand that famous line of Lady Macbeth's. It bothered me that I could wash the stain off my skin so much easier than it'd come out of my socks and shoes; it felt like I should carry it with me for the rest of my life.

My dreams that night weren't.

Night brought on nightmares. In the least horrid of my nightmares, I couldn't wash my hands clean.

I don't think I need to explain what the more horrifying nightmares portrayed.

Tuesday morning couldn't come soon enough.

I'd been the only one in the right place at the right time to tackle Joe "the Moron" Morton. I was not gentle in subduing him, either, and the cops had the EMTs treat my knuckles for abrasions... along with the small cuts I'd accumulated from the knife. I got a lot of pats on the shoulder from the cops... and from other students in the school who'd watched my charge.

I saw Tilling talking to the kids from the media center and photo squads about their tape, film and memory cards. Later I found out that it all had to be held by the cops as evidence and could not be released without jeopardizing Joe's trial.

And I was being called a hero.

I didn't feel like a hero, though. I went through the day moving from class to class where we were all talking this out.

I felt like shit as people tried to remind me of how much of a hero I was.

Heroes succeed. I didn't.

Hannah was a bright point during the day, when we tripped over each other. She was as naked as I was. We hugged each other, which helped a little, for she'd been there.

That night I lucked out again. Hannah's mom is a nurse at the hospital and I was able to get the news: It looked like Blackie would live.

Sure he'd live, but I've seen kids cut up like he'd been. I knew that living wasn't always something to be wished for.

It's been said in Psych class that dreams sometimes play out the events of the day in different ways.

So, that night, I had dreams of success.

And nightmares of failure.

Waking up screaming at 3AM is not restful. Having the rest of your family have to be there to calm you down is not good for them, either.

Something special was needed this week. Some kind of grand gesture to discharge the stain of failure from my own heart.

I woke up with an idea. I wondered if I could sell it quietly enough.

I'd missed quite a bit. I was in a corner of the Nurse's office recovering after my seizure when Red was dragged in but I was still too shaky to call to her, but listened carefully.

Tension eased as I heard the news about Blackie. Reassured? You bet.

The fact that I'd not been able to help bothered me.

It was with some relief that I was able to leave the Nurse's office and re-join the rest of the school as we circulated through our classes. A lot of lively discussions popped up and I heard more about the laws that enabled The Program.

I did manage to catch up with Joe during the day and asked why he'd shoved me out of the way like that.

He had such sad eyes. "I wasn't thinking. I figured he was after me, so I had to get you away from me before he could hurt you. I'm sorry for the bruises..."

I nodded, reached up and hugged him. He hugged me back, his penis limp against me... and it didn't get hard.

I stepped back and looked at him. All of him. He wasn't happy. I looked in his eyes, they still seemed sad, so I asked "Are you all right?"

Joe shook his head. "I failed. I didn't realize he was attacking Blackie until it was too late."

I hugged him again; with his arms encircling me, I felt his strength again, as he tried to show me how protective he felt. "Joe, you tried. That's all anyone can ask of you. And you're the only one not paralyzed by surprise. You did more for him than the rest of us did, or could have. You did good. Thank you." I squeezed him again as we had to separate to go to our different classes.

I watched him walk away, his shoulders still slumped.

He'd tried. I knew I needed to talk with him some more, but it bothered me to see him so down.

It's funny now, but the realization that I hadn't even liked him the week before-- as a snooty football player-- seemed ironic. From someone near the top of the heap, a lot of the other football players would be pounding their own chests and bellowing as girls would flock around them if they'd done even half as well as Joe had.

Had he changed? Or was he really always like this and no one ever noticed that he was a nice guy?

Had The Program changed him or had he always been like this inside?

That night included a call from Tamara-- talk about a bolt out of the blue-- telling me that Blackie wasn't doing too badly.

With news like this sleep was possible.

My clothes were a mess after Tamara had called me over and I'd applied pressure to Blackie's bleeder. Because of my mom's encouragement to learn about nursing, first aid and other aspects of emergency medicine, I realized I'd been more help than even Tamara could be. It felt good to help Blackie and the EMT's patted me and Tamara on our shoulders, thanking up for our help.

I was left with clothes covered with Blackie's blood. Even though these weren't cheap clothes and that they were ruined by blood stains, the feeling of accomplishing something good made my normal worries about the state of my clothes seem stupid.

The interviewers didn't go into too much depth and one woman looked green on seeing my clothes. Tam wasn't all that steady-- I've never seen her so unsure of herself-- but I was comfortable.

All right, so I dress pretty nicely, but the blood, to me, was a sign to others that I'd been a help. It was only after they were done asking inane questions that Mr Tilling pulled me aside.

"Hannah, I'm sorry, but do you have a change of clothes?"

It hit me then. I shook my head.

Before he could open his mouth as we stood there in the main office with the staff around, I peeled out of my clothes.

In panties and bra (the least bloody of my clothes) I got a sudden fright and realized that I'd stand out too much in my underwear. So, a sudden resolve, I peeled it off.

"Can I have a pass to use the girl's locker room?"

Tilling dumbly nodded, reached for one of the slips, filled out the pass and handed it to me.

I showered in the locker room, returned to the office for my books, and headed to make the rounds of classes.

Having a heroic figure like Joe as a boyfriend should have helped more, but seeing him dragging his ass was not comforting. I could tell he was hurting but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong.

It's funny, but I went home naked as well, my blood-stained clothes in a plastic bag. Given my mom's shift this week, I had the house to myself.

Joe was too busy moping and was no company on the phone, but I played operator for him and even brought Tammy up to date, along with the rest of the girls.

My friends weren't all friendly, any more. I guess showing my bare ass in front of the school even when I wasn't "in" The Program wasn't cool enough. At least Tamara understood my comments about the blood stains.

I had a very good talk with my mom that night before going to sleep.

There's something about having a path laid out into the future for yourself that just makes like feel a little bit better.

I did have dreams that I was caring for Blackie... in more than just a medical role. And of comforting Joe, too, who seemed to need it.

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Author: Jack C Lipton
Title: Naked In School: Kelly - Week 2 - Monday
Part: 08/14
Universe: Naked In School
Summary: 
Keywords: rom mf ir exh voy
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RCS: $Id: NIS-kelly-08.x,v 1.7 2004/10/23 16:46:15 jcl Exp $