CHAPTER NINE

I had gone to bed pretty early Tuesday night. The painkillers they prescribed for me helped. I didn’t stay up very late after David had left. I didn’t even eat—now there’s a miracle. I did, however, stay up long enough for my Dad to get home. Unfortunately. That man takes ‘unsympathetic’ to a whole new level. And, of course, all he cared about was that "it would get around" if I dropped out of The Program. So, he called Mr. Tilling and twisted his arm, nice and hard. I’d still be in The Program on Wednesday. Oh, joy.

So, I woke up early Wednesday. I felt like I had been shattered into a million pieces. Look, let’s face it—one of the reasons I’m a bitch is because it’s easier being a bitch than it is breaking into tears every five minutes. And how many times had I cried Tuesday?

Hey, I don’t like being vulnerable. Vulnerable people get stepped on. Believe me, I’ve watched my parents do it to people my whole life. If you show your weakness, it’s going to get hammered. There are a lot of people like my parents in the world.

Then again, it looked like I was going to get stepped on this week no matter what.

The funny thing is, when I woke up and went downstairs to make myself some coffee, I found myself thinking about Dave.

He took care of me. Wasn’t that new! And I got the impression that it was new for him, too. He even managed to not make me feel like I was imposing.

Anyhow, I had to go back to school nude again—thanks, Mom and Dad. And I needed help. Was I prepared to admit that to someone else, that was the question. Maybe if I were casual about it. I just couldn’t see walking up to that door at school and stripping all alone again. I think I’d collapse. I tried to envision doing it while summoning up my usual defiant bitchiness—and I couldn’t do it.

I found the phone book. There was only one Shiell in there, it was under a woman’s name—I remembered that Dave lived with just his Mom—and it was fairly close to me, and Dave had said he lived close by. I figured that one had to be it.

I stared at the phone for a long time. When I finally decided to do it, it was still early enough—but not so early that he wouldn’t be up.

"Hello?" a woman said at the other end.

"Hello. I hope I have the right number. I’m looking for David Shiell."

"Yes, you do have the right number," the woman said. "Would you like to talk to him?"

"Yes, please," I said.

"David, phone," I heard her say. Then, she whispered, "It’s a girl!" I stifled a giggle. Poor Dave!

"Hello?"

"Hi, it’s Missy."

"Hi!" He sounded happy to hear from me, surprise surprise. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better. Still sore, but it’s better. Listen, I was wondering. Would you like a ride to school today?"

"Sure, that’d be great. You know where I live?"

"I know the street." He described which house was his. "Great. I’ll be over in a few minutes."

I got dressed and headed over. I knocked on the door and met his Mom. She led me into the kitchen and Dave was there, still in his pajamas, eating pancakes.

"Oh, dear. I’m earlier than I thought I was," I said, looking at my watch.

"That’s fine," he smiled. "Sit."

"Missy, have you eaten?" his Mom asked.

Just then, my stomach let out a loud growl. "Oh, that was so ladylike," I said, embarrassed. David just laughed.

"I’ll take that as meaning you haven’t eating," his mom giggled. "Here, let me get you some pancakes. I made plenty."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "Actually, I haven’t eaten since yesterday lunch."

"No wonder your stomach is yelling at you," Dave laughed. Then he got serious. "You got put back into The Program, didn’t you."

"Yeah."

"I don’t know how Mr. Tilling could do that!" Dave said indignantly. "He saw you yesterday!"

"It’s not his fault," I said. "My father called him, and we all know how much clout Daddy has. He probably twisted poor Mr. Tilling’s arm so hard he sprained his shoulder."

"Why would your parents do such a thing?" his Mom asked.

"Because no daughter of theirs is going to be a quitter. No daughter of theirs is going to disgrace the family name. I did what I did last week, and now I have to tough it out and take my punishment. Blah blah blah." I took a bite of pancake. "Y’see, all my parents care about is how useful you can be to them. They’re users. That’s their whole M.O."

And that’s when it hit me. That’s when it hit me what the hell I was doing. I dropped my fork and stared at Dave in horror.

"What?" he said.

"And I’m just like them," I said. "Dammit, I’m just like them! Damn, damn, damn." I almost started crying, but managed to hold it back.

"What are you talking about?" Dave asked.

"I called you because I couldn’t bear walking in that door at school alone," I managed to get out. "I was looking for a crutch. Dammit, Dave, I’m using you, sure as my parents use everyone around them."

"I don’t mind," he said pleasantly. "It goes both ways. Look, I have to go shave and stuff. I’ll be back in a minute."

I just looked at him, completely confused. His mother wiped her hands, and sat down at the table across from me. "Missy," she said, "let me tell you a few things. You know David’s father died when he was young." I nodded. "And he told me that yesterday you called him a Mama’s boy."

"I was just teasing," I said.

"I know—and so does Dave—but there’s some truth to it. Missy, David’s been overprotected. I hid him in my skirts, so to speak. After my husband died, I went a little off-the-wall, OK? David dealt very well with it, but I was scared to let him out of my sight.

"I realized what I was doing right when he started high school. So I decided it was time to loosen the apron strings. Because I was stunting him, and I knew it. However, that kind of thing is hard to break. For him, I mean.

"He retreats. He doesn’t take risks. He plays it safe, always looking for somewhere to hide. Usually back in my skirts, and I’ll admit that it’s a hard habit for me to break as well. I’m thrilled I have such a close relationship with my son, but he needs more than just his mother.

"That having been said, maybe you can realize what a huge leap it was for him to help you out yesterday. He’s never done that—never had to. And, let me tell you something—finding out he could do that, well it made him feel good. He’s thrilled you called him this morning to help you out. And don’t give me that program partner crap, because that’s not it. I’d wager that you’ve asked for help in your life very rarely." I confirmed that with a nod. "And Dave’s been asked for help very rarely. That’s not anyone using anyone else. That’s two people figuring out what the other has to offer, OK?"

I thought about that one for a minute. "It still seems like using to me," I said. "Well, maybe mutual using."

"That’s because that is what you’re used to," she said. "It’s hard to recognize it as anything else in that case."

"But you don’t understand," I said. "You’re catching me in one of my very few vulnerable moments. If I got a full head of steam up, I could flatten Dave like a steamroller."

"Then, don’t," she said simply. I stared at her. "Don’t. It’s as simple as that. Missy, nobody is preprogrammed. We can all learn. It’s your choice. Look, I didn’t plan to lose the love of my life at 38 years old, either, OK? That wasn’t part of the program. But life isn’t preprogrammed, as I said. I had to adjust because of something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy—but adjust I did. I think you might even have better reasons to adjust. Don’t run Dave over. Just make a choice that you’re not going to do that. Let yourself lean on him. I can promise you, he won’t let you down."

Wow. That gave me a lot to think about. Just then, David came back downstairs.

"Hey. Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah." I turned to his mother. "Thanks," I said.

"You’re welcome," she smiled. Then we headed out.

"Your mother’s cool," I said as I started the car.

"That she is," David agreed. He took a breath. "Look, there is a difference between using someone, and asking for help."

"OK," I said. And then took a deep breath. "I’m asking for help."

"You got it," he smiled.

"Undressing was a nightmare yesterday," I admitted. "They wanted to ‘help’. That’s a reasonable request, right? Sure it is. They ripped my shirt, snapped my bra—hard—made cow noises when they took my pants off."

"Hmm," Dave said. "I think I can take care of that."

"How?"

"Trust me. Just go with the flow and don’t act surprised at anything I say, OK?"

"OK," I said, but I was wondering what he had in mind.

Anyway, we quickly got to school. Dave and I approached the entrance. All his friends were there—including Cassie—which made me very uncomfortable. Especially when he went over and whispered something to a group of them. But nobody said anything to me.

David stripped, to the sound of his friends chanting "DAVID! DAVID! DAVID!" He gave it a little flourish for their benefit. It was funny. This really was getting easier for him.

Then it was my turn. The animals gathered. "Let’s strip her now!" one of them said.

"Sorry," Dave held up his hand. "You can’t."

"That’s a reasonable request, she can’t stop us!" one of them yelled.

"She’s not. I am. It’s a reasonable request, but one I already made. I requested it earlier, so I will be undressing her today. And I don’t need any help."

Oh my GOD! He’d do that? I remembered what he said—don’t act surprised—so I forced a smile. He came over to me, whispered, "relax," and started unbuttoning my shirt.

"Have you ever undressed a girl before?" I whispered.

"No, can’t you tell?" he softly chuckled. "My hands are shaking."

"You’re very brave."

"Necessity is the mother of invention. Or bravery. Or something," he smiled. I just giggled. He had my shirt off and was reaching behind me to get to my bra clasps. It was a bit of a struggle. "Who invented these things, anyway?" he laughed. I chuckled, as he finally got it off.

He was being very gentle, and I noticed that the natives were getting very restless, because I wasn’t being properly humiliated. There was murmuring from the crowd. Luckily, his friends caught on, and started the "DAVID DAVID!" chant again, as he undid my pants. He helped me out of them. Then the panties. He was very careful, knowing that I was still sore down there.

I had a flash—I wished I wasn’t sore down there. WOW. That came out of the blue! Jesus. Was I actually getting turned on by this?!?!? Well, yeah. Just a little.

Anyhow, I was undressed, and Dave stood up and beamed at me. I felt I had to tell him what I suspected, however. "Thank you. That might be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. However, I think you just painted a target on your back."

"So what?" he said. I beamed, and we went into the school building.

Did I know she was using me? Well, yeah. I didn’t think there was anything more to it. I didn’t have any illusions. She needed help, and I was willing. I really didn’t mind. Yes, I was waiting for the inevitable return to type, but I figured that would happen after she got out of The Program, at which point we would’ve gone our separate ways anyhow.

And, I’m not going to lie for a minute. I did enjoy undressing her. To hell with all her ‘fat’ talk, I liked her, physically. She wasn’t fat, she was soft. She had hardly no stomach, just a little bulge. She did have hips, and an ass. I liked that. I also liked what she had on top. She’s crazy if she thinks she’s fat.

Of course, I could see where she might have gotten that crap, after having met her mother, who was built rather like Cher. As far as I’m concerned, Cher’s the most disgusting woman in history. If her mother was holding herself up as an ideal for Missy, I can see where Missy’d think she was fat. I was beginning to get the impression that her parents should write a book—how to hideously warp your daughter in ten easy lessons.

Anyhow, we got inside, and, immediately, Mr. Tilling was making an announcement:

"Attention, all students. Attention all students. We have a student in The Program, junior Melissa Jenkins, who needs special consideration. Melissa was injured yesterday. So, there will be no touching of Melissa today. Melissa was injured, and any touching in sensitive areas will cause her pain. Anyone caught touching Melissa will be disciplined. Thank you."

"Good for Mr. Tilling," I said. "Maybe that will help."

"Somehow, I’m not holding my breath," Missy said.

Unfortunately, she was right. It wasn’t three minutes after that announcement that I heard her cry out. Roger Kelsey, one of the assholes on the football team, was twisting her nipple, with his other hand heading towards her pussy.

"Hey, didn’t you hear what Mr. Tilling just said?" I barked at him.

"Fuck Tilling," he said, as he twisted Missy’s tit and grabbed at her pussy. It obviously hurt.

That’s when I did something really stupid. I slapped both of his hands away and stood between him and Missy. "That’s enough," I said.

"What are you going to do about it?" he snickered.

"Stop you." I was insane! This Neanderthal could kill me!

Which he proved, right off. One good swing. I managed to get my hand up a little and glance the blow a little, but it still got me. Right in the face. BOOM! Down I went, blood rushing from my nose. And that gave the asshole a free pass to Missy. Luckily, some of my buddies had seen what was going on and rushed over, and Ty and Mike grabbed the guy by the arms.

"HEY!" Roger yelled. "Let go of me!"

"Not hardly," Ty said. He wasn’t going to be able to get away from Ty. Ty was a moose. Ty and Mike ‘escorted’ him to Mr. Tilling’s office. "You’d better get to the nurse," he said to me.

"Good plan. Thanks for the assist, guys."

"Don’t mention it," Mike grinned, as they led the screaming and kicking Roger off down the hall.

"Very heroic, Shiell," Maggie Benson said to me. "Very stupid, but very heroic. You can come over to my place later today, and I’ll kiss it better," she grinned.

I just grinned at her. Then I looked over and saw Missy. She was as white as a ghost. She didn’t look like she could speak. I managed to stand up, gripping my head. "Ow," I said. "I hope my nose isn’t broken."

"Oh my God…" Missy gasped. "You…..you…..oh GOD!"

"I’m all right, you know," I grinned at her. "Just a ding."

"You’re covered in blood!"

"Just a nosebleed," I said. "Good thing I’m naked—that shirt I wore this morning is one of my favorites."

Ok, so I was being much calmer about this than I would’ve guessed. Because she was freaking out. This was the first time I’d ever gotten in anything even resembling a fight in my life. I should’ve been completely nuts about it.

"You need to get to the nurse," Missy finally said.

"Good plan," I grinned.

"Do you need help?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, thanks." I said. She, again hesitantly, took my hand, and we walked to the nurse.

"I can’t believe you did that," she croaked, in a tone that was half awe and half horror.

"Neither can I, to be honest with you," I laughed. "Ow. Remind me not to laugh."

"Jesus," she said. "What a pair we are. Your face and my crotch. Something tells me we’re not going to be having oral sex any time soon." I burst out laughing, damn the pain, and she turned bright red. "Oh my God did I just say that?" I was still chuckling—and she was still blushing—when we entered the nurse’s office.

"You two again?" Nurse Evans said. Then she saw my face. "Jesus, Dave, what happened?"

"Someone decided to ignore Mr. Tilling’s ‘No touching Missy’ announcement," Missy said. "Dave took exception."

"Come here, let me see," Nurse Evans said, leading me to the table. "The doctor’s here today, so wait a minute. Plus I have to go call Mr. Tilling. Again."

"He already knows," I said. Lowering my voice to sound like some bad TV cop, I said, "The backup I called for has already subdued the perpetrator and escorted him to Mr. Tilling’s office." At least I got a giggle out of Missy.

"I’ll call him anyway," Nurse Evans grinned. "Be right back."

She left, and Missy hopped up on the table next to me. "How’s your boob?" I asked her.

"Hurts like hell. How’s your face?"

"Hurts like hell."

"I’m sorry."

"Wasn’t your fault," I said.

"Yeah, it was," she said. "Let’s not forget why I’m in The Program."

"Oh, fuck that," I said. "It’s gone way beyond that."

"Yeah, I’m sure me being a bitch all these years doesn’t help," she said.

"How many people have you physically assaulted?"

"Well, none," she said.

"Exactly. Some of these idiots seem to have forgotten the ‘sticks and stones’ stuff."

She thought about that for a while, and then said, softly, "You know, nobody’s ever done what you did for me today. "

"I know."

"I’m feeling bad about it."

"I know you are," I said. "You’re feeling bad because you don’t think you deserve it," I said. She looked at me in surprise. "Well, you do, at least from me. You’ve been nothing but nice to me all week. And you’ve been treated very badly."

"You’re my hero, you know that?" she said.

I snorted. "I’m nobody’s hero. Heroes don’t get their faces bashed in."

"It was the intent, not the result," she said.

"Look, Missy, don’t build me up to be something I’m not, OK?"

"I’m not," she smiled. "I just think it’s admirable. Look, you’ve gone out of your way to help someone that you don’t particularly like very much." I looked at her. "What, you think I didn’t know that?" she grinned. "Remember how this week started, what you said in Mr. Tilling’s office. I think you’ve found yourself responding to what you think is an injustice. Believe me, I’m grateful—but I don’t think it means you’ve changed your opinion on me any."

"Well, yeah I have." She looked at me. "Changed my opinion of you."

"You have?"

"I don’t hate you anymore," I smiled. "But, I’ll be honest—right now I don’t know what to make of you."

"That’s fair, because I don’t know what to make of myself right now either."

Just then, the Doctor came in. Luckily, my nose wasn’t broken. Just bloodied. I was bruised. I was going to have a hell of a black eye very shortly. I got painkillers.

By the time he got done—he checked Missy’s nipple, too, that was also just bruised—it was time for second period. Missy and I both had English. We walked in together and people just stared at us. Honestly, I don’t think too many people were thrilled with me. It was insane. It was like mob rule had taken over the school. Everyone just wanted to see Missy hurt, and that was all that mattered.

I don’t know, was I crazy? Maybe I should’ve just let the jackals at her, and kept myself out of it. But I couldn’t. I had seen the look in her eyes yesterday when she was hit. It was complete devastation, and not all from physical pain, either.

The other thing that bothered me is how resigned he was to a lot of what was going on. Not yesterday, only because the pain and shame was too much. But other times before that, and again today. When Roger grabbed her, she just stood there. This was not, to be blunt about it, the heinous bitch I had known her to be for the past few years. Missy was generally not at all this passive.

Anyhow, with all that going on in my head, I got through the next two classes and made it to lunch. I got my food, and found Missy.

"You probably don’t want to eat with me. The impression that I get is that you’ve joined me on the shit list," she said.

"Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound," I grinned.

"YO!" I heard from behind me. It was Jared, with Amanda in tow, coming to join us. "Mind if we join you?"

"What, you want to join the school pariahs?" I laughed.

"Yep. Might cut back on this pristine image I seem to have developed," Amanda grinned. Missy was just looking stunned, as Amanda sat next to her. Jared was sitting next to me.

I was stunned. I felt bad enough that Dave was sitting there, but he was right—he probably already had the target painted. But Jared and Amanda? I know why they were there—to support Dave—and me being there was just going to poison things.

"Excuse me, I think I’ll find another table," I said.

"Why?" Dave demanded.

"Because your friends are here to support you."

"Yes, but you’re welcome here, too," Amanda said. "He is supporting you, after all."

"But you guys are friends with all them, including Cassie!" I said. "What is she going to say if she sees you over here with me?"

"She knows," Jared said. "We cleared this with her. She’s not upset."

"In fact," Amanda said, "I think she’s coming to tell you herself."

I looked up, and here came Cassie. She said hello to the other three, and then turned to me. "Missy? I owe you an apology."

WHAT?!?!? "Excuse me?"

"Look," she said, looking upset, "I just wanted you to have to go through some of the insults you put me through. If I had known it was going to be like this, I never would’ve told Mr. Tilling that I thought you did the pictures. This is too much. It’s not right for anyone to go through this. I’m sorry." And then she started to walk away.

I was stunned. Shamed, embarrassed, guilty. And, believe it or not, angry.

Really angry.

"God DAMN you, Cassandra Vyshenko!" I yelled. She stopped walking and turned towards me, surprise on her face. I stood up, and walked over to where she was. "Don’t you dare apologize to me! You did not do this to me! For one, you haven’t bothered me all week! For two, I got myself into this, OK? Don’t feel bad. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me! Got it?"

"Got it," she said with a funny little smile on her face.

"GOOD!" I yelled—and stormed out of the cafeteria. And stopped. At a complete loss, I ran to the nearest bathroom. Which, thankfully, was empty. I sat in a stall and cried for a bit.

When I came out of the stall, Amanda was standing there. "You OK?"

"I’ve been better," I admitted. "She tries to apologize to me, and I yell at her."

"I think she took it in the spirit in which it was intended," Amanda smiled. "She didn’t look upset. I mean, you did sort of apologize to her."

We walked out of the bathroom. Jared and Dave were there. "I don’t know," I said. "I just got so mad at her. I mean, apologizing to me? It’s ridiculous! Why the hell would she do that?" I threw up my hands.

"Because she still cares about you," Dave said.

"Why on earth?" I replied.

"You guys were friends for a long time," Jared said.

"Long enough to have seen the good things about you," Dave said. "Also long enough to know what your home life is like—which probably leads her to cut you some slack."

"I’ll buy the home life thing," I said, "but I don’t know if there’s too many good things about me."

"If there’s no good things about you, why was Cassie your friend for so long in the first place?" David asked reasonably. That’s one I couldn’t answer. I thought about it for a while.

The afternoon went OK. Mr. Tilling’s edict must have finally set in, because I didn’t get touched. Word got around that Roger was suspended for the rest of the school year, meaning he’d either have to go to summer school or repeat Junior year. And he was off the football team. I got out of my final class and walked outside, Dave along side me, as we shared final class.

"How’s your nose?" I asked him.

"OK. So, do I have a black eye?"

"An impressive one," I laughed. "You want a ride home?" I asked.

"Sure. See, now I’m using you to save me from the horrors of the bus," he grinned. I just giggled. We got outside, to, surprisingly, no crowd. "Looks like you’re yesterday’s news," he said.

"Thank goodness!" We found our clothes and got dressed, then headed to my car.

"Hey, you know what? It’s been a long day. I need ice cream!"

"Oh, that’s a good idea," he agreed.

"Fuzzy’s?" I asked.

"Fuzzy’s," he agreed. Fuzzy’s was the best ice cream stand in town.

We got there, ordered our cones—Dave insisted on paying for mine!—and sat on a bench to eat them.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," I said. "Still a little sore, but I should be able to continue my usual wild sex weekends by Friday."

Dave looked at me, then laughed. "You forget, I was there when the doctor asked you if you were a virgin."

"Caught me," I grinned. "Are you?" I asked.

"A virgin? The shy nerd? No, shy nerds are never virgins," he smirked. "Yes. Though two people this week have offered to relieve me of that burden."

"Really?" I laughed. "Who, and why haven’t you?"

"Well, Amanda. I turned her down because she’s my best friend’s girlfriend, and I’ve had a crush on her for while, and it’s just getting to the point where I can stop thinking of her like that. Sleeping with her would not help."

"No, it wouldn’t," she grinned. "You’re too damn noble, you know that? Who was the other one?"

"Maggie."

"Now, why’d you turn her down?"

"Well, I don’t know. You know what Maggie’s like, and Maggie’s my friend, but I want my first time to be, I don’t know, more special than that. Plus I’m not physically attracted to Maggie."

"Ah," I said.

"Now, are you a virgin by choice?" he asked.

I laughed. "I’m a virgin by lack of dates. Although, I will admit, it hasn’t interested me much in the past. I don’t get turned on much."

"Wish I had that problem," he muttered. I just giggled. "You don’t get turned on?"

"Well, I never used to," I admitted.

"You do now?"

"Uhm, well, I did this morning. A little. When you undressed me." I couldn’t look at him. "And I did again, well, when you stepped in between me and Roger."

"ExCUSE me?" He almost dropped his cone! "I can see the undressing one, but…."

"It was strange," I admitted. "You took his hands off of me and stepped in between us, and I got this little…twinge. No, I’ll be honest—it was a big twinge."

"It’s the caveman instinct," he said. I just blinked at him. "You know. Evolution. Girls have a genetic instinct to mate with the caveman who can slay the woolly mammoth. Or the football player." I giggled. "Of course, your twinge must’ve vanished in a hurry when the football player slayed me," he laughed.

"Uh, well, not exactly," I murmured. He just looked at me. I changed the subject. "Done with your cone?"

"Yup," he said.

"Good. Let’s go. Your mother’s going to freak when she sees that shiner, you know."

"Nah. At first, but then she’ll calm down when I explain what happened," he said.

We drove from Fuzzy’s to his house. My brain was in turmoil the whole time. I wasn’t lying, it was a big twinge. It was hard for me to explain. And it didn’t go away when he got flattened. It got worse. It still hadn’t gone away.

Anyway, we got to his house. His Mom met us at the door. "Oh, good, I’m glad you’re home I have to go out—DAVID! What happened to you?"

"I got in between a football player and Missy. The football player objected," he grinned.

"Oh, Jesus," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine. It looks worse than it is." He explained to her what had happened.

"David," she said, "that was very brave and noble."

"Good, maybe he’ll listen to you," I laughed. "I’ve been trying to tell him that."

"Yeah, yeah," Dave grinned.

"Anyhow, I have to go out for about an hour. You!" she said, pointing to me. "Take care of him!"

"Yes, ma’am," I grinned. She left.

We sat on the couch for a minute. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Yup, I was still twinging. About David Shiell, of all people. Not that it did me any good, I was too sore to even do myself.

Dave had his eyes closed. He’d had a rough day. And a voice inside my head said, so what are you going to do about it? When was the last time you did something nice for someone? Look at this guy next to you. Look what he did for you. Do something for him.

I never would’ve been able to do it without the twinging. If I couldn’t use the twinging to help me, maybe I could use it to give me the nerve to help him.

I reached for the button on his pants, and undid it.

"Uh, Missy, what are you doing?" he said, his eyes opening.

"You’ve been a good boy. You deserve a reward," I giggled. I pulled his pants down a bit, and his underwear, and freed his dick. "I can’t do a thing to myself because I’m too sore, so someone ought to enjoy my twinges," I giggled. "Besides. I want to do something for you." His dick had been soft, but a few touches from me and it was getting un-soft in a hurry.

"You don’t have to do this," he maintained.

"I know. I want to." I started moving my hand up and down his now hard shaft. "Is this OK?"

"Uhm, yeah," he managed to get out. I stopped for a minute, and pushed his shirt up higher, to get it out of the way. Then, I kept going. I found myself enjoying it. I’d only done this a couple of times—and, both of those times were when I was asked to help with relief for guys in the program. That wasn’t like this, though. I was enjoying it to a degree that surprised me. Especially when Dave started moaning. I thought to myself, I am doing this to him! It was very satisfying.

I was also having big twinges. Damn my sore pussy! Ah, well. I was still enjoying myself. And Dave was really enjoying it! Oh, he was moaning and gasping and twitching and it was great! Finally, he moaned, "Oh GOD Missy!" and came all over my hand.

Dave let out a shudder, and opened his eyes, looking at me in complete astonishment. I just looked at my cum-covered hand and giggled. "Are there any kleenex around?" I asked.

"Over there," he pointed. I found them, and cleaned my hand off. Then I cleaned up the cum that had dripped on his stomach. I tossed the kleenex into the trash, walked back over to him, pulled his shirt down, and pulled up and fastened his pants. Then I giggled, and kissed him on the cheek.

He looked at me as if I were an alien being that had just beamed down into his living room. "Why on earth did you do that?" he gasped.

"I wanted to," I said. Then I looked at him. "You’re upset."

"No, I am not upset. I’m amazed. That’s the last thing I ever expected you to do."

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked sheepishly.

"A whole lot," he grinned.

"Good," I said, grinning back at him. "Look, I have to go home so my mother doesn’t freak. Are you all right?"

"Perfectly," he said.

"Want me to pick you up for school tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes. That’d be great."

"Good," I said, and kissed him on the cheek again. "Bye." And I left.

I sat there on the couch, staring into space, after she had left. I still couldn’t believe it.

And now I really didn’t know what to make of this girl. Look, what she did to me was sweet and generous. Those are not two words I would’ve used to describe Missy Jenkins before this. And add that to how passive she had been—another thing, as I’ve said, she never was—and I didn’t know what to think

It was all so very complicated.

Mom came in while I was musing. "Hi, honey. Missy leave?"

"Yeah, she had to go home so her mother didn’t freak," I replied.

Mom looked at me. "David, are you all right?"

"Now there’s a question," I chuckled. "You know, I thought I knew Missy. I thought I knew what she was about. Now I’m not so sure."

"She’s been through a lot this week. That can cause people to re-think things. What did she do?"

I blushed, but told her. "She said that I needed a reward, so she gave me a handjob."

"What?" Mom laughed.

"Yeah. She just did it. Did it well, I might add—and I don’t think she’s all that experienced in it."

"What was her attitude?" Mom asked. I looked at her. "I mean, was she grateful? Lusty? Doing it almost like it was a duty? Or what?"

I thought for a minute, and then I realized. "Affectionate. That’s the best word."

"Uh-oh, I was afraid of that," Mom said. I looked at her. "You don’t like this girl much, do you?"

"I didn’t," I admitted. "Now I don’t know. I’ve never thought of her as a nice person. She’s being nice to me. And, I mean, before the handjob. I have to tell you, when I got hit by the football goon? The look on her face—I can’t even describe it. And it’s not just because I was sticking up for her when I got hit. It went deeper than that. I mean, she looked like she had just seen her best friend get shot, or something."

"Well, I need to warn you," Mom said. "I talked to her a bit this morning, and I realized something. That girl is absolutely starved for love."

"I’ve noticed that, myself." I looked at Mom. "And you think she’s picked me."

"I think it’s possible."

"Oh, man," I said. "I don’t know if I can handle that. I mean, up until very recently, I thought that girl was the biggest bitch in school."

"It’s easy to be bitchy when you’re alone, David."

"She was horribly bitchy to her best friend, though!"

"Well, I have to tell you something, David. You’re a guy. You don’t hang around with girls much, and two of the girls you do sometimes hang around with, Lily and Maggie, are very unusual. For that matter, Amanda’s fairly unusual, too. The friendships between teenaged girls aren’t always smooth, and rarely is it just one of girls’ fault. You know my best friend, Kendra?" I nodded. "We’ve been best friends since we were eight—except for sophomore year in high school. We didn’t speak that whole year."

"Why?" I said, astonished. Kendra and Mom were so close, I thought of Kendra as my second mother.

"The usual reasons. Jealousy, pettiness. She was jealous that I was sleeping with your father. However, her way of dealing with that jealousy was going into full goody-two-shoes mode and trying to make me feel guilty about having sex with your father. I, of course, tried, in turn, to make her feel undesirable because she didn’t have anyone to have sex with. This, dear son, is very typical 16-year-old girl stuff. You don’t see it, because Maggie and Amanda have a very unusual, strong, and non-jealous friendship; and because Lily approaches friendship like a guy does. What Cassie and Missy are going through is more typical.

"From what you’ve told me, Cassie—with Missy and Laura—was the ‘good girl’ of that group, right?"

"Yes," I said. "Cassie’s a sweetie."

"To you. If you think she never lorded her ‘sweetness’ over the other two, you’re dreaming. Cassie’s not a virgin, is she?"

"No, and not even before Frankie."

"And Missy is, you’ve told me."

"Yes."

"Another thing to get petty about, believe me. Cassie’s nicer, more popular, and more popular with boys. Missy resented it—and, I’m sure there were times when Cassie didn’t help."

"Hmm."

"I guess what I’m saying is, don’t think Missy’s going to dump on you just because she’s had problems with Cassie. If you enter into a friendship with her—or something more—it’s not like the friendship between two girls of your age. And, you know what? I’m making a prediction. Cassie and Missy are going to work it out."

"Actually, there were little signs of that today."

"See?" she said. "We know that the bad things Missy did to Cassie were very bad, and very public. What we don’t know is if they were in response to a bunch of little slights that Cassie had given Missy that piled up in Missy’s mind. I get the feeling that Missy is a whole lot more sensitive than anyone realizes."

"Hmmm." As usual, Mom had given me a lot to think about.

I drove home rather pleased with myself. It was nice. I don’t get pleased with myself too often.

Why did I do it? Well, I admit it—I wanted my hands on him, just for my own selfish hormone-addled reasons. Though I couldn’t do anything about it myself at the moment, I had a nice little image stored away to aid my fantasies. Hell, the look on his face when he came just by itself almost made me wet!

But, I just felt compelled to do something for him, and this was the best thing I could come up with. He’d been so nice. And, I kept thinking of what his mother said—why was it inevitable that I’d eventually steamroller him? It didn’t have to be that way. She was right. I can be nice to people. So, I guess, I just wanted to be nice to him.

Me. Nice to somebody. And it felt good. Unbelievable.

Anyhow, being nice was over, as I was home.

"Hello," I called as I walked in.

"Hello, Melissa," Mom said. "Did they put you back into the program?"

"Well, of course. Do you think Mr. Tilling could stand Daddy’s arm-twisting?"

"No more ‘assaults’ , I hope."

The fucking bitch. That was sarcastic. "Well, I almost got assaulted. Mr. Tilling didn’t have any choice but to put me back in The Program, thanks to you and Dad, but he did make an announcement that nobody was supposed to touch me today. He saw how much pain I was in yesterday after the assault that I’m supposedly telling tall tales about. Anyhow, some goon decided to ignore his words and tried to rip my right nipple off. David intervened. Got clocked right in the nose for his trouble."

"Come again?" Mom asked.

"A guy grabbed me, roughly. David stepped in between us to protect me. The guy smacked David in the face. He was going to come after me again, but two of David’s friends grabbed him and held him off. Took him to Mr. Tilling’s office. He got suspended for the rest of the school year from what I understand."

Just then, Dad walked in. "Hey, what’s going on?"

"Oh, Melissa’s just telling me about her knight in shining armor," Mom said with a little smirk.

And people wonder why I’m a bitch. Example, example, example.

"What are you talking about?" Dad asked. I told him the whole story.

"Well. All’s well that ends well," Dad said.

"Yeah. Easy for you to say," I snorted.

"Melissa, I have had just enough of you attitude!" Dad yelled.

"Attitude? ATTITUDE? Jesus!" I yelled. "You want me to take my clothes off, so you can see my swollen nipple? Shit, I should’ve taken ‘em off yesterday, you could’ve seen my bruised pussy! You might even get to see it now—it’s better, but not completely. Attitude? Tell me something, how hard did you twist Mr. Tilling’s arm to get him to put me back in The Program? Just so you wouldn’t look bad! Attitude, my ass." I started out of the room.

"Melissa, get back here!" Dad hollered.

"Why? Why should I? So you can lecture me some more?"

"You seem to forget who are the parents around here and who is the child," he said tightly.

"OK. Whatever. I’m tired of this. Just do me a favor, OK? The next time you want to see me beat up, just do it yourself, OK? It’d be much easier that way."

"Melissa, I do not want to see you beat up!" Dad said.

"Then why did you coerce Mr. Tilling into putting me back into the damn Program? WHY?"

"Because a Jenkins upholds his or her commitments."

I snorted. "What, like their marriage?"

"I uphold my commitment to your mother," he said tightly.

"Come on, Dad. Do you think I don’t know about the affairs that you two constantly have? I’m not that stupid. I’ve known for years." They both looked at me in shock. "Great way to uphold your marriage. Of course, it appears that the marriage is in good shape, and appearances are all that counts, right? So you want me to stick it out through The Program so I can appear to be tough and strong and committed, and thus a credit to the Jenkins family. Well, guess what? I’m not. I’m weak and needy and hurting and confused and sad and scared. But you don’t care about that. As long as it looks good. Just like you don’t care who you fuck behind your spouse’s back, as long as it looks good." At that, I turned and headed upstairs.

They, thankfully, didn’t bother me the rest of the night.

--End of part three—

madnis03