Elaine - Naked In School

Chapter 1

Prologue

This journal may be different to most journals from Naked in School participants. You see, I’m half expecting not to survive my week in the Program. Probably a lot of participants say that, but I mean it literally.

My family moved to this area in February because my hospital consultant had decided to leave the hospital he’d worked at for years, citing petty politics as the reason. When he told my parents and me that he was moving to a small provincial general hospital to head up their new Intensive Care Unit, my father immediately asked if he’d be prepared to continue treating me if we moved to that area.

"They won’t have all the facilities that we have in this unit," Mr. Chesil said.

"But when it happens, I wouldn’t have time to get to hospital anyway, would I?"

"No." That’s what I like about him. He doesn’t bullshit.

None of the students knew of my condition, I didn’t want them to, but my teachers had to. They were shocked when I’d stripped off in assembly when Heather and the others had invited us to do so.

Another girl in my class, Lucy, and a boy, Julian, also stripped off that day, but the boy was nervous and got dressed again in the lunch hour. Lucy made it through the day, but went back to clothes the next day.

I think she felt she’d let me down, so she rather stayed away from me for the next few days.

It was a short week at school that week, so on the Wednesday, after school, I went to Mrs. Johnson and asked if I could see Dr. Reynolds, the headmaster.

"Yes, Miss Trent. Please take a seat. He’s with someone at the moment, but when she comes out, I’ll ask him."

Whoever it was, it seemed like a long meeting. Finally, Mrs. Johnson knocked on the office door. "I’m sorry, Headmaster, but Elaine Trent has been waiting quite a long while to see you. Are you going to be much longer?"

"Come in, Elaine," he called, his voice booming. He’d changed since he came back from London, more cheerful and relaxed and his voice showed it.

I walked in.

"I should go," said the middle-aged woman with him and stood up.

"It’s okay, Christina. Let me hear what she wants first. Elaine?"

"Are you running the Program next week?" I asked.

"We’ve just been discussing that. This is Christina Chaplain, from the Program Committee."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, remembering my manners, then, to Dr. Reynolds, "So, are you?"

"Yes. It will run for one more week, then restart after the summer holidays. Why?"

"I want to volunteer for the Program. And I want to ask you to put me on it next week."

"I’m sure your headmaster will explain, you can’t pick a week…" began Mrs. Chaplain, but Dr. Reynolds stopped her.

"Christina," he said heavily, "you’d better stay. Elaine, sit down, please." We both sat. "You know you have a medical exemption from the Program. I can’t put you on it."

"I’ve checked, sir. That pamphlet says the Program Committee MAY make exemptions. It doesn’t say they have to. Nobody else can make an exemption. Just because you know I’m ill doesn’t mean I have an exemption. And even then I have to bring it to the committee’s attention and I haven’t."

"Elaine, you know I can’t put you on the Program."

"You’ve got someone from the committee here. Why don’t you ask her opinion?"

"As you are better at explaining your condition than I am, perhaps you had better do that yourself."

I turned in my chair so I was facing her. "I have a complex medical condition. My heart didn’t form quite correctly. It worked fine when I was a child, but as I grow older, it can’t keep pace. The doctors didn’t expect me to live this long, but I have… so far."

"Can’t you have a transplant?"

"No. One, I have an uncommon blood type, so the chances of finding someone compatible are almost impossible. Believe me, my doctors have tried, worldwide. And even if I could, I have a lot of places where the walls of my arteries are too thin. I could just be sitting here and one of the major ones bursts and it’s goodbye Elaine Trent, nice knowing you."

"Can’t they do anything?"

"If it was just one or two, maybe. But the scans showed about twenty places, including some major ones in my brain. They fixed some of the worst ones in my chest when I was small, although one burst when I was on the table and I nearly died, but they said if they repaired the ones in my brain, I would probably end up brain-damaged."

"I’m sorry."

"So they put off deciding about brain surgery until I was old enough for my parents to let me make the decision. Possibly a few years of life with probable brain damage, or a year at most with me as I am. I chose not to have any more operations. When I go, I want to be me."

"What do your friends say about this?" Mrs. Chaplain asked.

"They don’t know. I don’t want to be the poor dying girl they are have to pity."

"You said you had surgery. If you go naked, they’ll all see the scar and some will ask about it."

"It’s pretty faded now. But if anyone does ask, I’ll just say I had surgery when I was little. I don’t have to tell them I could drop dead any minute."

"I can’t imagine living life like that."

"It’s not great," I admitted. "I have to avoid all excitement in case it kills me. I can’t even go on a rollercoaster. I can’t do gym. I study. I watch telly, read, eat and sleep."

"Going on the Program isn’t exactly avoiding excitement," she pointed out.

"I decided this week, I’ve had enough of playing it safe. I want to live before I die. Is that so wrong? You know there are other girls in this school who’ve never been touched, but it’s been THEIR choice. It’s never been my choice. I might only live a few more months. I don’t want to die having still never been touched."

"Not being on the Program doesn’t prevent you from being touched," Dr. Reynolds argued reasonably.

"Just for once, I don’t want to be the girl in the back of the class that nobody notices. Is that so wrong?" Damn. I was crying. I’d promised myself not to do that.

"No. It’s not wrong. But that still doesn’t explain why you want to go from being so careful to being in the Program."

"I’m not stupid if that’s what you think. There are drugs I can take to make… accidents, much less likely. But they can’t be taken for more than a few weeks, ironically because one of their side effects is putting a strain on the heart. And when I come off them, it is likely that one of my arteries will give way. On something like the Program, I could take them for that time only, then stay in intensive care while the drugs work their way out of my system."

"Elaine, I’m sorry," said Dr. Reynolds. "Before even considering allowing you to go on the Program, I’d have to discuss it with the Committee, seek legal advice, get doctors’ reports, not to mention discussing it with your parents. There simply isn’t time to do that."

I’d been expecting this, but I had to try. "Okay. Thanks for listening anyway."

"I will promise you this. I will try to clear it with everyone during the summer holidays and IF I can get permission, I will put you on the Program next term."

"Thanks. But I’ve already lived longer than they said. Nobody thinks I’ll still be here next term."

They didn’t reply.

"Thank you, Dr. Reynolds." I offered my hand and he took it.

"Elaine. If I promise you to try to get you on the Program as soon as possible next term, will you promise me something in return?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure. What?"

"Stay alive till then."

I flashed him my best attempt at a smile. "I’ll try."

Two weeks later, we were sitting at breakfast and my father opened a letter from the school.

"Your headmaster wants to see us. What have you been doing?" He smiled as he said it.

"I’ve asked to be put in the Program."

My mother’s face was a picture. "Why? Why would you want to spend a whole week with boys feeling you up?"

"Because it’s the only chance I’ll get. Because I can take those drugs for a week, then check into intensive care to come off them and maybe still survive. It’s better than shagging some boy and dying on him."

"But why do it?"

"You like sex with Dad, don’t you?"

She went a bit pink at the directness of my question. "Yes, of course."

"Well, I’m never going to have what you’ve got. I haven’t got that long. So I want to grab what I can. Surely you can understand that?"

"But they’re developing new treatments all the time. Maybe in a year…"

"Mum, stop fooling yourself. I don’t have a year and you know it. There are no treatments showing any real promise apart from those drugs, and I can’t take them for long anyway."

"But this… it’s crazy. And I always dreamed of you becoming a young woman and living a normal life… but this is plain dirty."

"Mum. Please stop dreaming. I don’t have a normal life. I never will have. Don’t take even this from me."

She stared at me and suddenly we were both crying.

"Darling. Since you’ve been old enough to understand, we’ve let you make the decisions on your treatment. It’s your life. If this is what you want, I know your father and I will back you all the way."

"Thanks, Mum. You two are the best, you know that?"

Of course they didn’t believe I’d be alive long enough to do it, and to be honest, neither did I.

But September’s come, and I’m still here.

The Friday before school restarted, we were eating dinner when there was a knock on the door. My father opened it and came back to the dining room with Dr. Reynolds.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to interrupt your meal."

"That’s okay," said my mother.

"I received a letter from the Ministry yesterday. Providing I can get a waiver from your parents and you, and the approval of your surgeon, I have permission to allow you to take part in the Program."

My face fell. "Mr. Chesil will never agree."

"He wasn’t keen, I admit. But he finally agreed this afternoon."

"You mean?"

"Yes. You’re in the Program on Monday, if you’re absolutely sure you still want this."

"More than anything," I said simply.

"I have a condition of my own."

"What’s that?"

"Choose someone in one of your classes, who can go through it with you, to support you."

"I hardly know anyone really, unless you count Lucy, and she’s already been through the Program." Lucy had become my best friend during her week in the Program last summer.

Dr. Reynolds pulled his cellphone from his pocket. "Mrs. Johnson? Can you ring Lucy Morris and ask if it’s okay for her to meet me shortly. If she can, I’ll meet her in the new Ws café in twenty minutes. Let me know if she can’t make it."

Ws café is next door to the Ws nightclub. Since the Program started it has become a favourite haunt of anyone on the Program as the owner actually welcomes nude people instead of merely putting up with them as a lot of places do. He also makes sure that nobody gets hassled there so it is always a nice relaxing place.

"Why do you want Lucy?" I asked.

"I’m going to ask if she’s prepared to do the Program a second time."

"Whew. She didn’t exactly have an easy week the first time around."

"I know. That’s why we’re meeting in Ws and not at her home. I don’t want her to have to decide with her parents there. Not that I’ve anything against them, but I want us to ask her privately. So if she says no, nobody else needs to know about it and we can try to think of someone else."

"Hi, Dr. Reynolds, Elaine? What’s this about? I’m not in trouble, am I?"

He smiled. "No. But all in good time. Can I get you a coffee?"

"Please."

When our coffees had arrived, he started bluntly, "We want to ask you to do another week in the Program."

Her face fell. "Why?"

"You know Elaine isn’t well."

"I suppose so. She’s excused gym, and sometimes misses days."

He went on to explain what was wrong with me and why we were here.

She looked shellshocked, then a little annoyed. "I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"Then why the fuck haven’t you ever told me this?"

"I haven’t told anyone at school. I mean the teachers know, they had to, but nobody else."

"Why? Why not even me? Couldn’t you trust me?"

"It’s not to do with trust," I cried. "Everywhere I go, I’m the poor brave girl who’s dying. At school, I’m just another kid. It’s the only place I can be anything like normal."

Lucy fell silent.

Dr. Reynolds got up to go and handed her a card. "Here’s my cell number. Think about it and please let me know by midday tomorrow. If you don’t want to do it, we have to try to find someone else."

"I don’t need to think about it," she replied, coldly.

"I’m sorry, Lucy," I said. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Can I ask you to keep this strictly confidential?" said Dr. Reynolds.

"You mean I can’t publish it in the Sword?"

Neither of us answered. I turned to go, determined not to embarrass her by letting her see me cry.

"So when are we doing the Program, then?" Her voice sounded odd.

I looked back and saw that she was crying.

"You were right, you know. I’m going to have a really hard time treating you normally."

"Just be my friend."

"Always." At that she started sobbing harder. I knew what she was thinking. Always wasn’t going to be long.

"Is there anything I should know? What do I have to do if… if something happens?"

"Hold my hand. I don’t want to die alone."

Suddenly, in the midst of all the tears, she started laughing. It was infectious and soon both Dr. Reynolds and I were laughing with her, without the slightest idea what we were laughing about.

"I just had this crazy thought. I shouldn’t, it isn’t funny at all really."

"Don’t worry. When you’ve been in and out of hospitals as much as I have, you hear every sick joke there is. What thought?"

"I was imagining Justin groping you," she said. Justin had a reputation. He thought he was "the man" and tried to prove it by bringing every girl in the Program to orgasm. From what I’d heard he was getting pretty good with his hands, but only after some of the girls had taught him what to do. "And you have an orgasm and die on the spot. He’d never live it down. I told you it wasn’t funny."

I laughed. "If it happens, I just want to live long enough to see his face. That would be classic."

She hugged me and we laughed and cried together.

"Seriously," she asked. "Could that happen?"

She was looking at Dr. Reynolds, but he nodded at me.

"It’s possible. It’s highly unlikely on the drugs I’ll be on, but it is possible."

"Okay."

"Oh God. I never even thought about the effect on whoever I’m with if it does happen. I’m being really selfish."

Dr. Reynolds shook his head. "And why not? Most of us are at times. It’s about time you let yourself be. And as for someone you’re with, they’ll get over it. So they’ll be shocked and upset for a while. They’ll live. And you deserve the chance to live too."

I looked at him accusingly. "You’d already thought about that, hadn’t you?"

"Yes. In fact one of the delays in getting approval was meeting with psychiatrists to discuss the likely effect on other students if you did die under those circumstances."

"And they’re happy about it? Wrong word. Okay about it?"

"They think any problems afterwards are, to use their word, manageable."

"Really?"

"I can’t believe we’re sitting here discussing what happens if you die," cried Lucy. "This is freaky."

I took her hand again. "I’m sorry I’ve dumped all this on you. It’s not fair."

"Not fair? You’re going to die and you’re saying it’s not fair to ME? This whole thing isn’t fair." She almost screamed the last few words and others in the café were looking at us.

"No," I said calmly. "But I’ve had a long time to get used to the idea."

When we’d come to see her, it had never occurred to me that she might have problems coming to terms with it. It was always my problem, mine and my parents'. Something that we alone had had to live with. I hated doing this to my one real friend. But the genie was out of the bottle now, and I hoped... god, I really didn't know what I hoped.