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Message-ID: <50943asstr$1113415803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt Ch 32 {Gina Marie Wylie} (teen, mff, cons)
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Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2005 14:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 32.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mff, , voy, cons.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http://www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 32 :: Friday Night Busses

I woke late; sensing someone else was in bed with me.  I reached
out my hand and found a substantial breast without hardly
trying.

"Sorry if I woke you, Davey," Wanda told me.

"No problem."

She moved, snuggling into the crook of my arm.  As always, I was
amazed at how someone so large could turn so small at the wave of
a hat.  Or a wave of whatever she was using to perform her
magic.

"Any luck finding Karen?" I asked her.

"No.  It's like she dropped off the planet.  No one saw her leave
school.  No one's seen her hitchhiking around town.  Pammie and I
thought we knew everyone she knew.  We've talked to each and
every single one.  Either someone is lying through their teeth,
or they haven't seen her either.  Davey, I'm scared."

I hugged her tighter and she hugged me back.  "Davey, could you
just hold me?  Tight?  Just that?"

"Wanda, if you asked me to, I'd stand on my head."  Still, I
hugged her tighter.

This wasn't the first time I'd seen the vulnerable side of my
sister, but like all the other times, it was amazing and made me
feel needed.  She slept and I lay awake, trying to think of where
Karen could go.

I woke to a series of slobbery kisses from my sister.  I'm not
sure how I knew she wasn't serious, but they were certainly a
juicy form of kiss!

I reached out and slapped her butt.  "Hey, isn't it time to do
the pool?"

She giggled.  "How would you know?  I turned off your clock."

I turned and looked and the digital clock was dark.

"How will either of us going to get up on time, without a
clock?"

She lifted up, pressing her large breasts into my chest.  "Davey,
I looked a second ago and you weren't anywhere close to being
up!"

I laughed at her.  "Next time, first the bazooms, then check. 
Because otherwise it depends on what I was dreaming about."

Wanda ran her hand over my burgeoning erection.  "Davey, you're
sweet.  You also talk too much for a guy who's got a girl playing
with his balls and showing him how much she wants her breasts
stroked."

"Except I don't know if we're already late."

She hit me.  It wasn't a pretend thump; it was a pretty solid
blow to my ribs.  Said ribs then did protest mightily.

"Davey, it's dark outside."

I looked, and so it was.  So, since it was getting light around
six, it had to mean it was earlier.  Which meant Wanda was
right.

"Okay, it's dark outside."

"Now, put your hand on my butt again, only this time take your
time."

I pulled her face close to mine.  "Why didn't you tell me what
you wanted?"  I kissed her hard.

"Stupid!  You wake up with a naked girl in your bed and you have
to ask what she wants?"

"If I want to be alive later, yeah, I do."

My hands went to her breasts.  How could it be that I liked small
breasts, and yet my sister's breasts fascinated me and turned me
on?  It never made sense to me.  On the other hand, they
fascinated me and turned me on.  What wasn't to like?

Still, considering it was Wanda, she wasn't as aggressive as she
usually is, which wasn't to say I didn't enjoy crawling between
her legs and starting to lick and kiss her pussy.  I wasn't
really sure what Wanda wanted, but it was clear, very quickly,
that what I was doing was something she wanted.  She had a mild
orgasm, then a stronger climax, and then one that literally
rocked my bedroom as she nearly screamed when she came.

"You are something else, Davey Harper," she told me.

"I am someone else," I agreed.  "You liked?"

"I'd hit you again, but I don't think your ribs would take it,"
Wanda told me.

Since I was well aware they hadn't approved of anything I'd done
since Wanda woke me up, all I could do was agree.

"Wanda," I said as our mutual breathing slowed back down, "I
swear, anything I can do... just ask.  I will do it if I humanly
can."

She kissed me gently. "Davey, if I could think of anything to do
for Karen right now, something we haven't already done ten times,
I'd do it.  If there was something you could do, you'd have
already been dragged out of the sack.  Except it's not so.  I
wish..."

She stopped talking, and then hugged me again, the tears coming
in buckets.

Swimming was mildly interesting.  "That itching, burning
sensation," that a certain TV remedy is supposed to relieve would
have been a fair description, but I was tolerably sure it wasn't
intended for your ribs.  Still, it didn't take long for the
discomfort to fade, and I was able to swim like I was used to.

Emily appeared and simply jumped in the pool without hesitation.
"It's getting cold in the morning!" she said, surfacing next to
me as I turned and started another lap.

"It is.  I just have to swim extra fast to stay warm!"

When I got out, Emily was sitting wrapped in a robe and a towel
over the robe, while Wanda was still wearing nothing at all. 
Goodness!  I'd never imagined what breasts that size looked like
completely covered with goose bumps!  I wasn't sure if it made me
uncomfortable wondering about how chilly she must be or because I
was thinking I wouldn't mind warming her up.  What was it like
with a spouse that you could warm up any time you felt like it?

As if to echo my thoughts, but in her own way, Wanda looked at
me.  "I'm thinking about not going to school today."

I'd never known her to miss a day before; I raised an eyebrow. 
"On a game day?"

"I'm going to call in sick for that, too.  How can I go out there
and do routines worried sick about Karen?  How am I supposed to
put a smile on my face and pretend everything's wonderful?"

The show must go on.  I've heard or read that a million times. 
What a crock!

Emily spoke long before I was ready to.  "Yesterday, you and
Pammie knocked on a million doors and asked a million people if
they'd seen Karen.  I put up two boxes of fliers on telephone
posts; that's a thousand, Wanda.  I stapled or duct-taped a
thousand fliers to every flat surface in town.  We can do it
again tonight after school, if you want.  But Wanda, you love
cheerleading.  It's who you are.  Believe me, you and I know,
shit happens to people.  Don't stop being who you are if shit
happens to you or if it happens to someone you know.  It's not
fair to you.  Do what you can, but don't let it be your whole
life."

Wanda got up and hugged Emily and kissed her.  It was, I noticed,
a rather chaste kiss.  Then Wanda turned and walked into the
house.

"How are you doing, Emily?"

She smiled at me.  "Sore feet from all the walking, yesterday
afternoon.  I have a bruise on the heel of my hand from hitting
the stapler so many times.  Pretty good.  How about you?"

"I'm okay.  It hurts, but not as much as it did yesterday."

Dad appeared at the door to the family room and dropped the paper
in front of me.  "Your mother sent your letter in, then I had a
little chat with Ed about it.  Turns out he thought you were
whining, so he wasn't going to run it.  I pointed out that a
person is justified in whining after four attempts on his life,
and asking just how many it would take before anyone in San
Angelo cares."

I opened my mouth to speak, then stopped.  I hadn't been happy to
hear that Mom had sent it in for me.  Now Dad had gotten
involved.  I was tempted to ask what it would take for them to
let me stand on my own two feet.  Temptation, though, lost out to
the pragmatic pleasure of having my letter printed.

I opened to the editorial page and it was Karen's picture that
met my eye.  "MISSING GIRL" it said in large, bold letters in the
upper left hand corner of the page.  Underneath her picture was a
short description of Karen and a report of what she'd been
wearing at school the day she vanished.  Underneath that was an
editorial about the awful state of things where children
vanished.  "It's a plague, not just in San Angelo, but all across
the country," it read in part.  "Teenagers run away, they are
involved in custody disputes, and some, like Karen Grissom,
simply vanish and no one knows their fate unless they turn up
later.  Usually, if it's not in a day or so, tragically, it
almost never happens.  All too often these are young women like
Polly Klaas and more recently Elizabeth Smart."

My letter, on the other hand, was with a group of other letters
and not set off in any way.

I looked up at Dad and shrugged.  "Thanks, I guess."

He laughed.  "Yep, and in the spirit offered, it's accepted. 
Trust me Davey, Ed and I go way back.  It's best this way."

"There's no one named Ed," I told him, "I was just being stupid.
I was planning on changing it before I sent it in."

"Go with your first instinct," he told me.  "Like as not, you
were right the first time.

"After school tonight, come home, and we'll get the bus ready."

"I'm going over to Mercedes' place after school tonight," I told
him.

"Get me the address then, the bus will stop by at 5:30 sharp. 
You will all be ready to go, you will have your game faces on,
and you will also plan on going to the dance tonight, after the
game."

"Wanda was thinking about not going to school today," I told
him.

He grinned like a cartoon shark.  "I'll make her an offer she
can't refuse."

He turned around and went back into the house.  I handed the
paper to Emily and sure enough, she read the stuff about Karen
and the editorial about her first.  I had to point out my own
letter to her.

Then it was late and I had to hurry to get ready for school.  I
skipped breakfast, which wasn't the smartest thing in the world,
but, on the other hand I'd pigged out a couple of times recently,
so it wasn't the end of the world, no matter what my stomach
thought of the mistreatment.

I handed the paper to Mercedes when I got to school, opened and
folded to the right spot.  When she finished reading it, I showed
her the stuff about Karen.

"I spent a lot of time thinking, last night," Mercedes told me.

"About what?"

"What you said about giving money and things to Shellie. 
Yesterday you gave me a computer and I was okay with it.  I
rationalized it... if you hadn't given it to me, it would have
gone in the dumpster."

"That's right."

"So, I called my dad and asked him how much a PC like that was
worth.  Because I was afraid you were trying to sneak it past me.
 He wanted to talk about you, anyway.  We had a long talk. 
Davey, the PC you gave me isn't worth much at all."

"I said that," I told her, confused.

"But it cost a lot of money to begin with."

"Years ago."

"Dad explained about cars.  He was particularly upset about the
fact he'd thought he'd gotten a good deal on his car insurance
when he'd chosen 'actual value' over 'replacement value' as an
option, because it saved him a couple of hundred bucks a month. 
He told me that they gave him almost nothing for our car, because
it was so old.  He had to make up the difference out of the
family savings, so we would have a car."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"'Value,' he told me, 'is separate from price.'  He's been to
meetings where they give out cokes, juice and water, free. 
Except it's not really free, because it's part of the cost of the
meeting.  And to someone dying of thirst, how much is a pint
bottle of water worth?  Everything they've got in their pocket
and just about anything they need to promise.  I just never
thought about it before."

"It sounds," I said carefully, "that you and he are talking
again.  Is that a good thing?"

"It is.  He was just being stupid about you and I think he knows
it.  He wants me to move back home."  She looked at me and
giggled.  "He doesn't think my sister is a good influence.  That
I might start sleeping around."

"I could see why he might be concerned," I said.  She thumped me
on the arm.

"Anyway, I'm okay with the computer.  It's worth a lot to me,
wasn't worth anything to you.  That is, he told me, getting the
better part of a deal.  Another way to look at it is that it was
win-win."

"I never knew you had a problem with the computer.  I mean, it
wasn't worth anything.  I wouldn't have offered it to you if it
was worth anything.  I know how you feel."

"You think about how I feel, mixed with how you feel.  And I do
the same thing to you, Davey.  We all do it.  You were giving me
something that didn't mean anything to you.  Just a favor for a
friend.  I needed to get my head on straight.  Now, I think, I
have."

"Dad is going to come over to your sister's apartment tonight,
around five thirty, to give us all a ride to the game.  He says
he's bringing a bus, so there's room for all of us."

"A bus?" She was obviously mystified, too.

"Yeah, that's what he said.  Right now Mom and Wanda are pretty
bummed out about Karen."

"Me too," Emily interjected.  "There, but for the grace of the
Harper family, would be me.  I know all about feeling trapped and
desperate."

I took a deep breath, wishing there was something, anything, I
could do to help Karen.  Still, nothing came to mind.  I'd sent a
letter; my dad had sent a letter.  Mom, Wanda and Emily had
covered the town from end to end with questions and fliers.  The
police were looking; there were a lot of them and just one of me.
 I still felt bad.

Shellie and I had a few minutes to talk before our Office
Applications class.  "I've been so stupid!" she said.  But she
was grinning and happy.

"About what?"

"I was chatting with someone online last night, a guy in Japan. 
I've been buying the wrong kind of DVDs."

"There's more than one kind?"

She smiled.  "Yes!  I've been thinking they are like CDs, where
you can write on them once.  Except, some DVDs are made to write
like floppy disks used to be.  You can write to them over and
over."

"You can use the same disks to do your backups!" I said, the
light bulb going off in my head.

"Yeah!  I'll only be able to buy a new set every month, but after
I've got two sets, I'll just alternate them.  You don't know how
relieved I am."

"Well, I know how relieved I am," I told her, grinning.

Oh gosh, was I glad when lunch came around!  My stomach was
doubly glad!

The only sad thing was that there were five of us at the table,
instead of six.  I kept looking at the empty seat and then I'd
sigh.  Both Mercedes and Shellie would touch my arm when I'd do
that; which helped a little.

For the first time since Tuesday, I felt halfway decent for PE,
and I dressed out with the others.

Desmond came up as I was pulling my t-shirt.  "You got a lot of
bruises."

"Yeah."

"Someone told me you're really strong.  But you punched like a
girl."

I met his eyes.  "Desmond, I do chin-ups, okay?  The night before
our fight, I was depressed and I couldn't sleep.  I got an hour
of sleep, maybe two.  When I finally got up, I did chin-ups until
I couldn't.  A couple hundred, maybe."

He blinked.  "You can do that many?"

I nodded.  "Of course, I have noodles instead of arms, later."

He waved at the bench in front of the locker.  "Arm wrestle me."

"And why would I want to do that?"

He laughed.  "I asked this time, polite."

A minute later we were kneeling on the floor.  One second after
our knees hit the floor; everyone in the men's locker room was
hovering around us.

I'd arm-wrestled, of course.  Who hasn't?  Only with Wanda, and
she would slam my hand against whatever we were wrestling on with
contemptuous ease.  It was one of the things she used to
intimidate her little brother.  It worked, too.

I was surprised at the strength of Desmond's grip.  I tightened
my fingers as well.  Jack appeared, saw what was going on, and
grinned.  "I'll referee," he said with authority.

"Begin!" Jack commanded.

I steeled myself and tried to do my best.  Desmond's muscles
knotted and I felt the pressure.  I thought he was playing with
me, because pressure or not, it wasn't enough to budge my hand. 
Muscles corded in his neck, in his arms and he grunted with
effort.  My hand barely moved.

Tentatively, carefully, sure it was a trap, I pressed against
him.  The expression on Desmond's face was that of a man
possessed, fighting against the demons of hell.  His eyes were
blazing; he was all but standing, trying to move my hand.  It
wasn't slow, but careful.  But I put his hand down on the bench a
few seconds later.

Belatedly, I remembered Dad talking once about how to cheat at
arm wrestling.  I smiled to myself.  I liked it better just
winning.

"Want a rematch?" Jack asked Desmond evenly.

Desmond laughed.  "A rematch?  I'd have to use my left hand!  If
I lost again, what would I use to beat off with?"

The room rocked with laughter.

From the door, Coach Wells snapped angrily, "Why are we wasting
time, men?"

Desmond stood up and grinned at the coach.  "It's never a waste
of time when you're learning something!"

I contemplated Desmond as we all headed for the door.  Did he
lose on purpose?  Was this just a trick to try to gain some
sympathy?

I had to laugh at myself.  The thought was crazy!  What guy six
inches taller than me, sixty or seventy pounds heavier, was going
to try to gain sympathy by letting someone that much smaller beat
him?  He wouldn't get sympathy if anyone figured out he was
dogging it... he'd get pity and contempt!

Desmond looked at me, still watching him.  "I wondered how come
you could hit the ball so hard.  You're not using shit, like Jack
did, are you?"

"No.  Until a month ago, I was just Davey Harper, boy-nerd,
terrified of my big sister, in awe of guys like Jack and Chuck. 
Guys like you."

He waved at the door.  "You could have won, Tuesday, if you
hadn't had a bad day."

I shook my head.  "Desmond, you know boxing.  I don't.  I was
toast; the only question was whether or not I could get in any
licks losing."

"Could you talk to Ellie for me?  Please?"

I swallowed.  I have, Desmond.  Ellie's curious about Shellie. 
She thinks Shellie is cute.  She wants to get to know Shellie a
lot like she's come to know you.  "I will, but I don't think
she's listening to anyone right now," I told him.

Coach Wells appeared again.  "Any day now, ladies!"

Desmond turned to me and smiled.  "Either one of us could whip
his ass!"

"But, he's the coach.  Not today," I told Desmond.

We both grinned and walked past Coach Wells, and then trotted out
to the fields.

We did warm-ups, and then it was back into the gym to watch films
of the last football game.  I think half the class was asleep;
the other half spent the time talking to each other.  Coach Wells
and the other coaches made no attempt to get people to pay
attention.

It was, I thought, a sign that the Coach was a total wuss.  I
mean, he didn't even try!  What kind of coach doesn't even try?



After school we went to the apartment, shared short kisses and
didn't grope each other.  We'd agreed that Monday was our day,
but if we didn't control ourselves the rest of the time we were
sure to fuck something other than each other.  So when we got to
the apartment we did Algebra homework; Mercedes helped me with a
Spanish study sheet, then I went over my notes I'd written down
about chimpanzees and language with her.

Just before 5:30, we were outside, waiting.

Well, Dad was right.  It was a bus.  Not just a bus, but a yellow
school bus.  The only saving grace was that it wasn't one of the
full-size busses that schools used, but one of the smaller ones.
Also, it didn't have any school name along the side, instead it
read, "San Angelo Lion's Club."

Dad was driving, and the passengers were Mom, Wanda, Emily,
Pammie, Jack, Chuck and Rob.  And Mercedes' parents. 
 
Dad greeted us at the door.  "Sit in any seat you like, except
the back seat."

Well, since there was no way to sit three of us in a seat, we
ended up with Shellie and Mercedes sitting together in the seat
behind the driver that faced at right angles to the direction the
bus moved, and I was just behind them.

Dad turned to us.  "I've already talked to the others.  If anyone
wants your seat, you'll give it to them without being asked more
than once.  You kids, with the exception of Emily, are not to do
anything except talk.  Emily and the adults are the ones who will
do what has to be done tonight.  Keep all comments to yourselves
until you are alone, the door locked and no one can possibly hear
you."

With that, he turned and got the bus going.  I decided that he
probably didn't want to hear that we weren't headed anywhere near
the high school.

Instead, we pulled up around behind Memorial Hospital.  There
were a half dozen wheel chairs lined up, and we pulled up beside
them.  The wheel chairs had kids in them, and they all got up out
of the chairs, and headed for the bus.  One of them, a girl about
ten, was being helped towards the door by one of the other kids,
the rest seemed not to need the wheel chairs at all.

Dad opened the bus door and grinned.  "If you want a seat and
someone's in it, ask them to move their lazy butt!"

The kids grinned, and then started to board the bus.  The one
girl who needed help was last, and it took some pushing and
pulling by two of the other kids to get her up the steps of the
bus.  I was up, out of my seat, intending to help as soon as I
saw what was going on.

Dad met my eyes.  "Sit!"  He pointed to my seat.

"I want to help,"

"It's okay," the girl said.  "I'm fine."

Sure, I thought, which is why it took two people to get you on
the bus.

There were four boys, ages eight to thirteen, two girls, ten and
twelve.  The only one not wearing a baseball cap was the girl
who'd needed help to climb the steps.  I wish I could say I could
connect the dots, add two and two, but it never occurred to me
that there was a reason for those hats.

The twelve-year-old girl sat next to me and grinned at me.  She
waved at Dad.  "He says if I fall out of my seat, you'll catch
me."

"Sure," I replied.  What was she talking about?

I don't know if it was to my shame or my credit that that was
when I noticed that every now and then she'd tremble like a
leaf.

The people from the hospital who'd been waiting with the kids
loaded one wheelchair in the baggage compartment under the bus,
and then we were off.

"I hope everyone is in the mood for pizza!" Dad said.

"Pizza!" the oldest boy said, as though he was invoking a
miracle.  "Pizza!  Pizza!  Pizza!"

Dad laughed and off we went.

This time we ended up at the high school.  Dad turned to us.  "My
guys, you get off.  Leave the others to us.  Enjoy the game."

Mercedes and Shellie got up and started for the door, Wanda and
the others were getting up as well.

I looked at the girl next to me.  I'd figured out they were sick,
and I'd figured her shaking was a symptom.  She'd spent most of
the trip holding onto one of the poles.  "You won't fall off now,
will you?" I asked, feeling inane.

She grinned, reached out and took the pole with her other hand. 
"Both hands!  I'll be okay!"

I followed Rob out the door of the bus, where Mercedes and
Shellie were waiting.

"I am," Mercedes said, waving a ten dollar bill, "in luck and
minor shock.  Mom says I can buy my dinner.  Pizza sounds good to
me!"

So we headed for the snack bar.  There wasn't a huge line, but
there was a line.  While we were waiting, Dad walked up and said
something to the guy who ran the snack bar.  He nodded, and said
something to one of the others.  A few seconds later, they were
handing Dad trays with pizza and cokes on them.

Dad in turn passed the trays on to Mom, Emily and Mercedes'
parents.  Most of the kids were sitting at one of the tables;
only the young girl was sitting apart.  Mom sat down next to her
and said something, but I was too far away to hear what it was.

We placed our orders, and it didn't take too long to be served. 
I looked around and saw that Mom was still with the girl, and the
table was otherwise empty.  I headed that way, Mercedes and
Shellie in tow.

Mom was sitting next to the girl, so I sat across from her, with
Mercedes and Shellie sitting next to me.  The girl looked at me,
then at them and giggled.

"Davey," Mom said.  I perked up and looked at her.

"This is Christine, Chris Luna.  Chris, this is Davey, my son. 
His friends Mercedes and Shellie."

The girl nodded at us.

Dad said something I didn't catch and Mom glanced his way.  "A
hand here," Dad repeated.

"Sure."

I turned to look and wished I hadn't.  The boy who'd been craving
pizza had thrown up.  Mom and Camilla, Mercedes' mom were both
out of their seats at once to deal with it.

I dragged my eyes back to the table and firmly told myself that
my pizza wasn't bad at all.

"Chemo does that to you," the girl said.  Her voice was a little
slurred, but understandable.

I nearly lost it then.  Chemo.  That would be chemotherapy.  What
they used to treat cancer.  The baseball caps...

She looked at me.  "Could you hold my coke?"  She waved at the
cup.  "It was supposed to have a lid.  That way it wouldn't
slosh."

I reached out for the cup and held it up, aiming the straw for
her mouth.  She took a sip and smiled.

"I started trembling two months ago.  They don't think it's
cerebral palsy, if it was, I'd have been like this since I was
born.  You're supposed to be a lot older than me to have
Parkinson's Disease."

I smiled, but inside I felt empty.  Weren't both of those things
fatal?  I looked at the other table.  Cancer?  Sometimes fatal. 
I saw Mom looking at me, looking concerned.

"More coke?" Chris asked and I realized I'd lost track and the
straw had wandered.  She reached out and steadied my hand, or
maybe vice versa.  She took a bigger sip, started to smile, and
then sneezed.

I took a face full of coke.  "Sorry, so sorry!" she sounded
forlorn.

I reached into the coke cup, dipped my fingers in it, and flicked
the liquid into her face.  "Evens, no problem."

She cracked up, laughing and laughing.

Mercedes laughed too.  "If we're going to have a food fight,
let's forget the coke, okay?  It's hard to get out of clothes."

I looked at her and Mercedes realized she'd screwed up. 
"Sorry."

Chris shook her head, touching her white t-shirt.  "Mom says the
same thing.  I wear whites, so she can bleach them."

A few minutes later Mom sat back down next to Chris.  "Davey, you
and your friends go get good seats for the game.  We have
reserved seats."

I waved goodbye to Chris and the three of us left, heading for
the stadium.  We were much quieter than usual, lost in our own
thoughts.

We found decent seats again, although this time about four rows
back, centered on the field.  It was still early, but many people
came early.  Nothing like the tailgate parties Dad had described
for professional games, but early enough.

We stayed silent for some time, and then Mercedes and I started
talking about IQ testing again.  We'd been talking for about
twenty minutes when Shellie nudged me.

She pointed with her chin, and I looked up and saw Terry Toohey
and his cohorts, walking along the aisle.  There was a fourth
person this time, and when I recognized her, I felt ill again. 
Irene Feeney.

Terry saw me almost at the same instant I saw him.

He grinned broadly and stopped, about six feet away, he and his
friends lower down, in the main aisle.  "Look what we found,
Davey!  A girl horny enough to keep three guys happy!"

He had one hand wrapped around Irene's shoulder, his fingers more
or less loosely touching her breast.  Alan was on the other side
of Irene, his arm around her waist.  Sean came up directly
behind, close enough so that his body was touching hers.

"I didn't think you were supposed to be here," I said, standing
up.

"Kid, watch the hands!" someone from a seat closer to Terry
growled.

"Go fuck yourself!" Terry said, and then ignored the comment. 
"Public stadium, Davey.  I bought a ticket, we all bought
tickets.  We also have a lawyer that made them let us in, so long
as we're nice.  We're nice, right?  We make love, not war,
right?"

He was blatantly caressing Irene's breast.  I looked into her
eyes and saw emptiness there.  Maybe not complete emptiness, but
close enough.

"The public seats are on the other side of the field," I said
levelly.  "This side is reserved for San Angelo students, family
and friends.  Leave, please."

Terry looked around, and laughed.  "Oh yeah!  Sorry!  Left,
right!  You know how easy it is to get confused!"  They turned
around and headed away.

Several heads were turned my way, obviously curious.  I was
pretty sure they all knew who I was.  I sat back down, deflated
and a little empty myself.

Mercedes took my hand.  "Davey..."

I sighed and smiled at her.  "I remember the world when it was a
simple, uncomplicated place.  Now, when it gets complicated, I
have you and my other friends."

"You know the girl, right?" Mercedes asked.

I damned my face that never seemed to stop talking when I didn't
want it to talk.

"Yeah, that's Irene."

Shellie said something soft to Mercedes and Mercedes turned to
her and said something I couldn't hear.

Shellie sniffed.  "Oh, her!"

I realized she knew who Irene was, and who the source of that had
to be.  What had I expected?

I swallowed.  I'd tried to pretend Shellie didn't know about
Wanda, but it didn't seem possible now.  How about Pammie? 
Mercedes knew about Pammie, so...

Mercedes met my eyes.  "This frankness thing... I'm coming to
think I'm overdoing it."

"A little," I said sarcastically, trying to keep my voice down.

"You two, stop!" Shellie said.  "You both mean well.  People are
like zillion-sided jigsaw puzzle pieces... it takes a while to
get the right fit.  You have to fiddle a lot, look a lot, to get
the right pieces in the right places."

Mercedes and Shellie started talking about clothes, which was a
subject that registered about zero in my scheme of things that I
wanted to talk about.

I looked around the stadium, filling rapidly now with people. 
Tens of thousands of them, I was sure.  Friday night football,
with the team from Big Spring, Texas... just up the road from San
Angelo.  Well, just up the road, Texas-style -- ninety miles.

The game was another run-away blowout.  Chuck passed; Jack
blocked or caught passes.  Rob showed up in the fourth quarter
and passed well, and then the Big Springs team, desperate to do
something, blitzed with every last single member of their team. 
And Rob zipped though their line, behind one of Jack's "leveler"
blocks, and ran nearly 80 yards to score.  The closest Big
Springs player was twenty yards behind Rob.

Fifty-six to three was the final score.

Wanda and Pammie had both been in the cheerleading line-up. 
Twice I saw them move off to one side, ostensibly to talk, but I
could tell from Wanda's expression she wasn't really at the peak
of her form.  Pammie was more of a mystery.  She looked happy, I
could hear her voice over those of the other cheerleaders now and
again.

Wanda came up into the stands at halftime, smiled at the fellow
sitting next to Mercedes, who promptly decided it was time to go
to the snack bar or john.

"I loaned Pammie my car," Wanda told me.  "Mom and Dad say we are
to go to the dance.  A must-go; anything else and the good
Reverend is going to think he has us on the run."

"He surely doesn't," Mercedes said, sounding a little dark.

"Yeah, well, fortunately, Jack and Chuck are going to help with
wheels or this wouldn't work.  After the dance we're going to our
place.  The three of you, Emily, Pammie and me, Jack, Chuck and
Rob."

"Okay," I told her.  It didn't seem like that big a deal.

"Pammie is going to stay with us for a few days.  She's going to
sleep on the couch in the family room."

"She can have my bed," I said, trying to be gallant.

"Don't be an idiot.  Her father could say she went from his house
to your bed."

"I wouldn't be in it," I told her.  "Doesn't that count for
something?"

"It would if it was mentioned," Wanda told me.  "I somehow don't
think he's going to mention it."

"Oh, yeah."

"It's just for a few days.  Dad and a lawyer are discussing what
to do.  The only shelters in town are a battered-family shelter
and a homeless shelter.  At seventeen, Pammie could live by
herself, but how?"

I sagged down.  How?  "Is this going to screw up her college
plans?"

"Depends," Wanda told me frankly, "on whether it derails her
scholarship hopes.  But then again, it's not like she wanted to
go to Bob Jones."

"UT Austin," I said, remembering what I'd heard.

"Exactly.  Her father never wanted her to apply there.  It's a
den of iniquity, according to him."

"Or the best university in Texas," I said bitterly, "depending on
your point of view."

"A whole lot of Texas universities would give you a hard time
about that, but yeah.

"Anyway, Davey.  Go to the dance.  Have a good time.  I'll even
let you step on my feet, at least once.  Dance with Pammie, at
least once.  The girl needs it.  Dance with your friends."

"Mingle, in other words?" I asked.

She grinned.  "You didn't hear that from me.  Mingle at an arm's
length, except for Mercedes and Shellie."

She left a little later and then later still, the game was over.

The dances are a rite-of-passage.  Wanda had explained it to me
since she was a freshman in high school.  You couldn't possibly
be a part of the social scene at school if you didn't go.  No
matter how popular you might be, without showing your face at the
dance, eventually the bloom would fade.

I danced with Mercedes, who was good.  I danced with Shellie who
was terrified that she might be doing something wrong.  After a
half dozen dances, she realized she was doing just fine.

I danced with Emily; I danced with Wanda and Pammie.  Ellie
appeared, on Desmond's arm.  She asked me to dance, Desmond asked
Mercedes.  I breathed a sigh of relief: what if she'd asked
Shellie?

A few minutes later, I saw Shellie and Ellie dancing, while I was
with Mercedes.  Mercedes saw where my attention was focused. 
"Well, at least we know you won't kick her out of bed as a
fourth."

"Mercedes, you are jumping to conclusions!"

"I suppose so, but then again, being around you tends to keep you
light on your feet."

She saw from my expression that wasn't something I was happy
about.  "Sorry, Davey."

"It's bad enough to have it happen," I told her.  "Over and over
again?  Always with friends around?  It sucks!"

I said the last word a little loud, and I saw several eyes on me.
 I went and got drinks for Mercedes and Shellie, anything to get
my mind off things.

Wanda waylaid me.  "Dad and Mom called me on the cell a few
minutes ago.  Mercedes' parents are going to be here in a few. 
They're going to her sister's place; they'll help her pack and
move her back home.  Keep your mouth shut, and you'll be off her
father's shit list."

"Thanks," I said.

"I'm taking Shellie home first," she told me.

"She has to go sometime; there's no way she can come over," I
told Wanda.

"That's good.  Dad's got a little project going, and he's going
to be late.  Pammie is going to be in the family room, Emily and
I in our rooms.  Mom wants you to come to her bedroom, as soon as
everyone is settled."

I cocked my head to one side, knocked it a few times, as if I was
trying to get water out of my ear.

"Don't be an asshole, Davey.  It'll be for five or ten minutes. 
Mom likes her lovers to take a lot longer than that!"

I blushed deeply.

A few minutes later, Mercedes was apologizing deeply for having
to leave the dance.  Shellie begged off as well, so we left. 
Before Shellie ran up the walk towards her parent's house she
gave me a tiny kiss.

I watched her run up the sidewalk.  A total fool would think we'd
scared her.  A fool who didn't see the beautiful smile on her
face.

 A few minutes later, I was in my parents' bedroom, something
that didn't happen often.  Mom stood with her arms folded,
regarding me.  I smiled, decided it couldn't be that bad, as she
didn't look angry at all.

"There are a couple of things I want to say to you," she told me.
 "You made a big impression on Chris, tonight."

"She's nice," I agreed.

"She's a dead girl walking, Davey.  Four to six months from now,
barring a real-life miracle, she'll be gone.  They aren't sure
what's going on inside her skull, but her brain is slowly frying.
 They think it's some sort of tumor, but they can't find one in
the various MRI and CAT scans they've done.  Each day she's a
little worse.  In a month, she's not likely to have very much
motor control; in two months she won't be able to sit upright by
herself.  In three, four months, she'll start having trouble
breathing.  After that... it won't be long."

"Surely they can do something."

"The best chance she has is to do an exploratory surgery, to see
if they can find something they can't see on their tests. 
Exploratory brain surgery is like trying to get across a freeway
at rush hour, by running full tilt from one side of the road to
the other.  Unsafe, to put it mildly.  You can't poke around
inside someone's brain without causing some damage."

"And the others?"

Mom shrugged.  "The Lions Club does things for the local kids who
are in the cancer ward at Memorial.  Anywhere from a third to
half the kids you saw on the bus will be dead in a year.  In five
years, maybe half the rest.  The only saving grace is that
there's a lot of research going on and the odds for them get
better every day, instead of worse like they're getting for
Chris.  Usually Phil does his driving stint with a little less
fanfare."

I ran the numbers in my head.  Chris wasn't going to be alive
this time next year.  Two or three of the others as well.  In
five years, one or two of the remaining kids on the bus.  Add it
up: 1 + 3 + 2.  Gosh!  That's six!  The good side of the odds was
one or two survivors in five years.

I met her eyes, knowing that once again, offering to help was
futility.

She smiled softly.  "Chris asked me if she could be your
girlfriend.  I explained you had a couple already, but if she
didn't mind sharing you a bit, I'd at least ask.  So, I'm
asking."

"She's a little young," I said... about the only response I could
think of.

"It would simply mean you'd visit her a couple of times a week. 
Read to her, talk to her.  Just be there."

"I told Emily I would be there for her," I told Mom.  "I can be
there for Chris as well."

"There are still a few more tests the doctors want to run, then
Chris's parents will have a tough choice to make.  Whether or not
to permit the surgery.  Please don't talk about it with Chris,
Davey.  That would be a seriously bad idea."

I nodded.

"Now, on to other, less unpleasant topics.  Your father is
currently enroute to San Antonio.  Bless his bizarre heart, he
bought a large salt water aquarium, along with assorted
equipment."  She grimaced.  "He says he got a good deal on it off
eBay, but on the other hand he's been quiet about how much it
cost.

"This is part of the agreement with Mercedes' parents.  Ruy is
determined that nothing gets in the way of Mercedes going to a
college and becoming a scientist.  On Columbus Day weekend the
lot of us are going to Corpus Christi.  All five of us, Ruy,
Camilla and Mercedes.  You can invite Shellie if you want.  We'll
visit the aquarium at Corpus Christi, then we have a reservation
at Malaquite Beach camp ground for Saturday and Sunday nights."

She stopped and laughed, "Phil is bizarre, I kid you not!  How to
take nine people?  He suggested a RV, one of those great huge
monsters the size of a Greyhound bus.  I told him Ruy and Camilla
would have a heart attack if we rented one and they didn't get to
pay half.  Except we're talking some serious money to rent an RV
that size, even for a weekend.

"So, the crazy bastard went to management and convinced them that
it would be cool to let employees of the month have the use of an
RV for a weekend or two.  They said yes, providing the union
didn't have a problem with it, because management employees are
eligible for the Employee of the Month Award.

"The union people jumped at the chance, of course Phil had to
promise that management never won more than three times in a
year.  Since he's always been careful of that, it's not a
problem.  He's going to test out one, on the company dime, to
prove the concept.  Gas will still be a cost, but it's something
Ruy and Camilla can afford."

"Wow!"  That was... well, awesome!

"I thought you might like it.  Phil's right, you know.  For years
we did things for Wanda... and let you do what you wanted,
knowing full well all you wanted was a trip to the bookstore for
a few books.  And you'd settle for a library trip instead.  It's
about time we recognized we have more than one child who's worthy
of special treats."

"Thanks!  I'll tell Dad, too!  Thanks a million."

"And now, Davey, go to bed."

I remembered something from earlier.  "Mom, I saw Irene Feeney
tonight at the game."

"Peggy won't talk to me any more," Mom said sadly.  "We've been
friends for fifteen years, and she won't give me the time of day.
 She says Irene is uncontrollable, refuses to go to counseling...
her grades are in the toilet."

"She was with Terry Toohey and his bunch.  He was bragging about
how cool it was that Irene was horny enough to take care of them
all.  All three of them."

"I hope you don't feel guilty about what's happened to Irene."

"I do, but just a little.  If it hadn't been me, it would have
been someone else."

Mom nodded.  "Probably.  And a guy spending a couple of hours
with a girl isn't exactly uncommon.  I'm sorry, too, about Irene,
but there's more blame at her end, at her mother's end.  Too many
people these days think a counselor or a shrink is the answer to
problems.  She was so mad at Irene, she told me, she couldn't
bring herself to talk to her."

Her eyes met mine.  "You understand that Peggy is an old, dear,
sweet friend?"

I could understand that; they'd been lovers, probably more than
once.  Was Margaret Feeney upset because her daughter was with
guys?  I decided that was an area I didn't want to ask about.

I got a hug and then I headed for my room.

When I saw Pammie wasn't on the couch, I was pretty sure I knew
where she'd be.  Yes, she was lying on my bed, nude, reading Don
Quixote.

She held it up.  "This is a weird story."

"It is.  Pammie, I thought you were going to sleep on the
couch."

She laughed.  "It's uncomfortable.  I'm going to sleep here. 
You, Davey, can pick which side of the bed you're going to sleep
on.  I will sleep on the other side.  Hands, mouths, tongues --
whatever, we will keep to our own side of the bed."

"You're telling me that you want to sleep nude in my bed, but
just sleep?  No fooling around?  No wake-up like the other day?"

"I'm really not in the mood.  But I wasn't in the mood for that
damn couch anyway."

"I wouldn't mind the couch."

"You can do what you want, Davey.  I'm going to be here.  I'm not
kidding, I'm just going to sleep.  That's all."

"Well, the light doesn't bother me," I told her.  "I've fallen
asleep a million times with it on."

I stripped out of my clothes.  By the time I got down to my
jockey shorts, my earlier erection had gone.  Pammie didn't even
glance my way when I slid in next to her.  She scooted over a
bit, but kept reading.

I put my head on my pillow, willing myself to sleep, willing
myself to ignore Pammie, naked and two feet away.

"Thanks, Davey," she said.

Where there's a will, there's a way.  I don't remember Pammie
turning off the light.

<1st attachment end>


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