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===================

                           Orange County Babylon

                                 PART EIGHT
 by
                               Michael Dalton




                   IMPORTANT LEGAL INFORMATION


     If you have received this work in your e-mail box and do not know
why, it is because your Internet service provider is forwarding posts
from Usenet newsgroups to your account.  It has *NOT* been e-mailed to
you by the author.  You must contact your ISP for help.


     This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons
is unintentional and strictly coincidental.  Although this story refers
to many real places and organizations, such mention should not be taken
to imply either a relationship or approval of any sort.  This work
contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity, and anyone offended
by such things should read no further.  If reception of this work is
illegal due to your age or other repressive local regulations,
liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine.  This work is
intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults, and any
other use is a violation of the copyright.


     This work is Copyright 1998 by Michael...@aol.com and is
protected by United States and other international copyright law.
Reposting and archiving is permitted, except where a fee of any sort is
required or earned for access, provided this disclaimer and note remain
attached to the story.  All other rights, specifically rights of
commercial use, are reserved.  Commercial use here is defined to
include membership web sites, banner-funded web sites, and those
protected by fee-based age validation methods (such as Adultcheck and
Adultsights).  However, exception is specifically made for web sites
(such as DejaNews) that provide archiving and access to all Usenet
posts in a particular group without editing or selection for content.
No modifications may be made to this story without express permission
from the author.  Any questions regarding use of this work can be
directed to the address above.  Failure to contact the author prior to
use is presumptive evidence of bad faith and may expose you to
significant criminal and civil liability.


                             AUTHOR'S NOTE


     This novel was first published in August, and has remained one of
the most popular and most requested works I have written.  From the
vast amount of feedback I have gotten over it, I have been able to make
some revisions and corrections that warranted a repost.  This is still
the same story, mind you--what I have changed were a number of factual
and grammatical errors pointed out to me by my readers.  In particular,
I want to thank Neverless and Lee Vine for assistance in that regard.


     With eight or nine months of hindsight (I wrote the first draft
of OCB in March), I have to say that I am not entirely happy with this
thing.  Among other problems, I think it starts too quickly and the
behavior and personality of some of the characters in Part One are
inconsistent with what occurs later.  None of this appears to have
dimmed the enthusiasm that has greeted the story, but it bears pointing
out.


     If you haven't read this before, a few words of warning.  This
novel (and it *is* a novel--it runs to over 98,000 words) should not be
taken too seriously.  It is best described as a silly, sappy, high
school soap opera.  The protagonist has more good fortune and more wild
experiences in one year than most people have in their entire lives.  I
don't just mean the sex, either.  Although there is plenty of sex in
this story, there are also long stretches of action where nothing
remotely sexual occurs.  This is because the story is supposed to be a
full depiction of the protagonist's life, not simply a catalog of his
sexual behavior.  As in the real world, sexual activity has certain
consequences, and that is what I have tried to accurately describe.


     The reader will note fairly quickly that this story appears to
fall into one of the worst stereotypes of low-grade erotica: the
football player and the cheerleaders.  To this appearance, I freely
confess--but there is a great deal else going on in here.
Nevertheless, should you have a congenital allergy to football, you may
want to skip this, as there is plenty of explicit sports to go with the
explicit sex.


     Those of you familiar with Orange County, California, will note
that I have taken certain liberties in my descriptions, particularly
with the locations and athletic programs of area high schools.  I did
this solely out of laziness--I wasn't interested in researching the
actual composition of the local high school football conferences.


     This work is, in many ways, a satire.  The views expressed herein
should not be taken as serious commentary on either the County of
Orange, the Roman Catholic Church, or the United States Marine Corps.
I make one exception to that disclaimer, however.  My descriptions of
the Orange County foster care system do not in any way resemble
reality.  The actual system is currently in very dire straits, and few,
if any, children who go through it have experiences as easy and
pleasant as the protagonist's.  Sexual abuse of foster children is
unfortunately not uncommon, and in real life, the consequences are far
different from what I have described here.


     One last note: Please do NOT e-mail me for missing pieces.  This
is a very large file and mailing it is a pain.  All the pieces of this
story should be available in the ASSM archive, the address for which
can be found in the header above.




  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                  XXXVIII.

Unlike Corinne, Michelle Swanson had stumbled on her sexual orientation by
accident. She had been raised in a strict Catholic household, and although
she did have her secret thoughts and desires (didn't everyone?), she had
always assumed she would grow up to be a homemaker like her mother, simply
because no other option had ever been discussed. Her two oldest sisters
were stay-at-home moms, and her mother had long lectured her children on
the importance of the traditional nuclear family.

Michelle had known Corinne since ninth grade (given her endowments, she was
impossible to miss in such a small school), but they hadn't become friends
until junior year, when they had a couple of classes together. They had
become friendly during class, started hanging out a month or so later, and
were confirmed best friends by Christmas.

One day that spring, Corinne had confessed her continuing problems with Joe
Dickson, and Michelle agreed that he was a disgusting pervert. The thought
of Corinne doing anything with Joe turned her stomach. Yet, that night, the
more she thought of it, the more she realized that it was the thought of
any boy doing anything with Corinne that repulsed her. No boy was good
enough for Corinne. She needed someone who would treat her with respect,
not view her as a conquest because of her breasts. She needed someone like-

Her?

The thought brought her bolt upright in bed. What was she thinking? That
was revolting. Wasn't it? Homosexuality was a mortal sin. Kissing Corinne,
holding her, that would be . . . well . . . what would it be?

When she thought of kissing Corinne, she realized she liked the idea. Then
she dove under her covers, hiding her head under her pillow in
mortification. It was less the idea that it might be a sin that bothered
her. What really scared her was that Corinne might not feel the same way.
Which meant it would never happen, and trying could ruin their friendship.

Michelle soon realized that, as much as she fought it, she was in love with
Corinne. She sat in Mass that week, wondering how it could have happened.
How could she be a mother if she loved another woman? She and Corinne could
never get married, though the idea of doing it thrilled her. Her family
would reject her; God would hate her. He must hate her now for even
thinking of it. She almost confessed to her feelings that morning, but
couldn't bring herself to do it. She hadn't done anything, right? It wasn't
a sin yet.

To her unending relief, Corinne didn't seem to notice the change in her
feelings. If anything, they became even closer, which actually made the
situation worse. Michelle felt as if she were being torn in half. She
couldn't bring herself to turn her back on her upbringing, but the longer
it went on, the more she knew Corinne was The One.

During Spring Break, Michelle went with Corinne's family up to Lake
Arrowhead, where they had rented a small house for the week. Corinne and
Michelle got a room to themselves, but had to share a bed. When she saw the
one bed in the room the afternoon they arrived, Michelle almost fainted.
How was she going to make it through an entire week sleeping in the same
bed with her without doing anything?

As it happened, she didn't.

The second night, after she had spent one of the most enjoyable days of her
life swimming, sunbathing, and generally running around with Corinne, they
had stayed up talking long after the lights were out.

She could sense Corinne's warmth next to her, she could smell her scent,
and she wanted to cry with frustration. She wanted so badly to reach out
and hold her.

Suddenly she felt Corinne's hand in her hair, brushing it back.

"What's the matter?"

In the dark, she just make out Corinne's face. She looked into her eyes,
and Corinne returned the gaze. Understanding finally passed between them.

Frozen in shock, Michelle could do nothing. Corinne moved her hand down
Michelle's shoulder, her arm, finally taking her hand, pulling it up to
her, and squeezing it.

"I love you," Michelle blurted out.

Corinne smiled, eyes widening. Then she reached for Michelle, and a second
later they were kissing.

They didn't make love that night, but they did every night afterward. If
Corinne's parents noticed anything, Michelle couldn't tell. They were
rather liberal (their small family of just Corinne and her older brother
indicating a probable lack of compliance with the Church's dictates on
birth control), and she wondered if they would even care. Michelle knew her
parents would have matching strokes about it, though, and Corinne seemed to
understand. Whatever happened, their relationship had to be a secret for
now.

They developed little subterfuges like the "study dates" in the park as a
means of seeing each other. Michelle still felt guilty about what they were
doing, but gradually rationalized it by deciding that God couldn't have
given her something so wonderful if it was really wrong. She read through
her Gospel and discovered that Jesus seemed to have nothing to say about
lesbians. Paul's Letters were full of condemnations, but Jesus was
strangely silent. If it was really wrong, why hadn't he condemned it? He
had certainly condemned a whole cavalcade of other sins.

If Michelle had been shocked by her discovery that Corinne was a lesbian,
that was nothing compared to what happened on the Cheerleader Overnight.
She and Corinne had decided to go out for the squad that spring, as
Michelle was somewhat friendly with Karen and Becky. To her great surprise
and thrill, they had both made it.

The Overnight had taken place at a retreat in Big Bear owned by the Diocese
of Los Angeles, and the six girls had spent the night in their sleeping
bags on the floor of a meeting room. The coach, and the two chaperones, had
taken the bedrooms upstairs. The Overnight was the traditional way to help
the cheerleaders get to know each other better and foster squad spirit and
togetherness.

It had succeeded, to say the least.

Michelle sensed some odd undertones when the girls first got together, but
it wasn't until that Friday night at the retreat that things came out in
the open. Karen suggested a round of Truth or Dare, and the subject swiftly
turned to sex.

Michelle wasn't surprised that all the girls were virgins (they were
discussing het sex, so she hadn't felt like she was lying), nor was she
surprised that Summer was the most experienced, notwithstanding her
virginal reputation. She had simply had too many boyfriends not to have
kissed some of them.

As the discussion got racier, the girls began picking dares. Karen had
picked Corinne, and that had really started things rolling.

"Okay, Corinne, show us your breasts."

The other girls murmured in surprise, but Corinne just grinned and pulled
off her T-shirt.

"Wow," Becky said. "I'm jealous."

"Don't be. They're a pain. Literally. I get bad backaches."

Karen jumped around behind Corinne and began massaging her shoulders.
Michelle felt a stab of jealousy but couldn't resist a giggle. Corinne
moaned in relief, arching her back.

"Oh . . . don't stop."

The rest of them laughed, and Michelle crawled over, taking Karen's place.
Karen only grinned and flopped back down. Michelle kept massaging her, and
Corinne made no move to put her T-shirt on.

"Corinne. Your turn."

"Karen. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Show us yours."

Karen frowned.

"Oh, bite me."

All of them laughed.

"You said dare," Summer said, "and you aren't that small, don't be
embarrassed."

Karen sat back, pulling off her pajama top. Though on the small side,
Michelle thought Karen's perky breasts were quite pretty.

"Believe me," Corinne said, "I'd kill to trade with you."

"Sure you would. Okay, Summer."

"Dare."

"Off with it."

Summer had glanced at the other girls in slight embarrassment, but then
pulled off her nightgown. Michelle and the other girls had looked her over
for a second.

"I sure hope Coach Bishop doesn't come in here," Becky said, and they all
giggled.

"Is that why you're still dressed, then?" Summer asked. "Scared?"

Becky's eyes widened. Grinning, she sat up and pulled off her T- shirt.
Michelle had a guilty--and jealous--ache in her stomach looking at Becky's
beautiful breasts. Then Kisu followed suit, and Michelle realized she was
the only one still covered. She stopped massaging Corinne long enough to
pull off her top.

Summer giggled.

"Oookay. Michelle."

"Um, truth."

She wasn't quite ready for a dare the way it was going.

"Why are you still massaging Corinne's shoulders?"

She started, feeling a flush growing across her face and chest. She let go
of Corinne in an instant and sat back down.

"Umm, I don't know."

The other four laughed. Corinne didn't seem to know what to do.

"That's not an answer."

Then Michelle thought of a way out.

"Umm, she said not to stop?"

She smiled as if it were a joke, and the others laughed. She tried to
compose herself.

"Becky."

"Dare."

She thought for a second, and then decided to give Summer a taste of her
own medicine.

"Okay, I dare you to kiss Summer. On the lips, for five seconds."

The others all went, "ooo," but Becky and Summer went white.

"You have to do it, Becks," Karen said. She grinned evilly.

Becky turned to Summer, and realized they were both topless, and that
seemed to be further than she was willing to go. She reached for her top,
but Karen grabbed it.

"No way. Do it."

The two girls stared at each other, and Becky leaned over. Summer took a
deep breath but held still. Becky leaned in, pressing her lips against
Summer's. After a few seconds, Michelle saw Becky's nipples--were they
actually erect?--brushing against Summer's breasts, and Becky started,
withdrawing. Both girls were blushing deeply.

"Woo!" Karen said.

Becky glared at her.

"Okay, Karen."

Karen sat up straight.

"Dare."

Becky glanced around the circle.

"Kiss Kisu. On the lips. Ten seconds. And I want to see some tongue."

Karen's demeanor wilted slightly and she looked over at Kisu. Kisu had been
quiet most of the night, though she hadn't seemed embarrassed by any of it.
Now she did, or at least concerned.

Karen glanced around, knowing she was stuck. She and Kisu looked at each
other nervously. Karen leaned over, putting her hands lightly on Kisu's
arms. Their lips came together, moving slightly. Then Michelle saw Kisu's
mouth opening a little, and Karen seemed to be frenching her.

Now she was sure it. Both Karen's and Kisu's nipples were stiffening. What
was going on here?

Karen finally withdrew, flushed as Kisu was. She wiped her mouth and looked
over at Becky.

"Satisfied?"

"Are you?"

More laughter.

"Maybe."

The others laughed, though Michelle was getting increasingly nervous. Karen
turned to Corinne.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Bitch. Okay. If I told you to kiss Michelle, would you?"

Michelle froze.

"Sure."

More moans of amazement.

"I saw you getting off when you were kissing Kisu," Corinne said. "Don't
play so innocent. It's not that cold in here."

Karen pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"At least I wasn't playing bumper pool like Becky and Summer."

That brought another round of laughter. Corinne turned to Summer.

"Truth or dare?"

Summer glanced around, trying not to smile. Neither seemed like a safe
choice right now.

"Dare."

"Kiss Becky again. Ten seconds, tongue. And don't get all hissy if your
boobs touch like Becky did."

Summer squirmed, but if Michelle wasn't hallucinating, she seemed to be
getting turned on. The two girls positioned themselves, and Summer put her
hands on Becky's shoulders. They came together, kissing softly, and after a
second or two, Summer slipped her tongue into Becky's mouth. Their breasts
did touch, almost nipple to nipple, and they tensed up, though they didn't
withdraw until Corinne called the time.

Both of them were deeply flushed when it was over. Summer took a few
seconds to compose herself.

"Michelle."

"Um." What the hell? "Dare."

"Kiss Corinne, ten seconds, tongue. And I want you to fondle those tits of
hers when you're doing it."

As the eyes of the other girls widened, Michelle felt a flutter in her
chest. This was going too far! Then Corinne's hand moved over hers under
the sleep bag. She squeezed it, and the look on her face told her to go
ahead. So she did.

She leaned in, kissing Corinne as she always did, reaching up to cup her
big breasts. Toward the end, she moved her thumbs over the nipples, feeling
them erect. Then she flopped back, feeling like she had just crossed a line
she had to cross eventually. She loved Corinne. Who cared what they
thought?

But when she finally worked up the guts to look at them, the other four
cheerleaders seemed far from shocked. If anything, she could sense
excitement. Could it be possible? Could she and Corinne not be the only
lesbians here?

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

"Um, okay. Karen."

"Dare," she said instantly.

"Kiss Summer. Ten seconds, tongue, tits. Just like I was doing."

And it had gone on like that into the night. Eventually they had all
realized that it was more than Truth or Dare propelling them along. The
next day had been very awkward, but the next night quickly degenerated into
a disorganized group-grope.

Over the next few weeks, as they became more comfortable with what they had
discovered, the squad was soon discussing more experimentation. Michelle
had been somewhat reluctant to share Corinne with the others, but the
opportunity to further explore her sexual inclinations with the other girls
was enough of a trade-off. As things progressed, Karen and Becky, and to a
lesser extent, Becky and Summer, seemed to form similar attachments. Kisu
she couldn't quite figure out. She loved to experiment, but quickly grew
bored with simple sex.

Michelle wondered how the entire squad could be made up of lesbians. She
soon found out that it wasn't, not quite. Karen was the first to suggest a
"mass cherry-popping" as she put it, and the others quickly agreed.
Michelle and Corinne discussed it in private, and eventually decided that
once--"Just to try it, you know? Just to get it out of the way."--wouldn't
be such a big deal. The only problem was who to do it with. What kind of
guy would agree to something like that and not blab about it afterwards?
And how the hell could they ever find a guy all six of them liked enough to
sleep with? Michelle was convinced it would never happen.

And then, that August, just before school started, she got an excited phone
call from Karen.

"I found him. You have to see him. He's so hot."

"Who?"

"The guy. The one I want to use."

"You did? Who is he?"

"You know how I told you we were having another foster kid come to stay
with us?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I was expecting some measly loser like the last two. This guy is a
total babe. He's huge, like six-two and muscles on muscles. And he is so
cute I can't stand it."

"Wait, he's your foster brother?"

"Brother, schmother. He's just a guy who's living with us. His parents were
killed in a car accident about a week ago."

"Whoa. And you want to spring something like this on him?"

"Hey, it could be therapy, right? He's obviously depressed about it."

"How do you know he'd being willing do this? You don't know anything about
him."

"He's really sweet and polite. He calls my mother 'ma'am.' I just have to
find some leverage."

She had, and it had happened. Michelle wasn't sure what she had expected
that night, but he had been just as sweet and considerate as Karen
described him. Jack quickly became the unofficial mascot of the
cheerleading squad, and Michelle was secretly very happy to see Becky,
Summer and Karen falling in love with him one after the other. He was too
nice for them to just be using him. Her respect for him doubled when she
found out how he had handled Corinne's problem with Joe Dickson.

But with that problem resolved, another had arisen. Corinne was convinced
that they would keep having trouble until they came out of the closet. As
much as she loved Corinne, that possibility had frightened her to the core.
She begged Corinne not to do it, and they decided instead to tone down the
public displays of affection as a means of dealing with the gossip. Corinne
had clearly been unhappy about it, and they continued to fight over the
issue through the winter.

In the back of her mind, Michelle knew that something was going to happen
eventually. She couldn't hide her true self forever.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                   XXXIX.

March came, and Kelly's birthday was on the thirteenth. The family went out
for pizza with her friends, and Becky and Summer came along as well. Kelly
had seemed satisfied with that one night, and hadn't even teased Jack about
it once. Instead, she seemed to get more and more stuck on Tommy Ryan, who
came along on the birthday dinner.

Karen didn't mention that night either, and Jack sensed that she probably
felt a little guilty about it. Marcia, for her sake, didn't display any
interest in a repeat encounter, though she was more affectionate with Jack
than she had been before.

Jack went out for the wrestling squad, and easily earned the number one
spot at heavyweight. He went undefeated during his first few matches and
seemed to have acquired an aura of invincibility, mostly because of his
accomplishments on the football field.

After the "reconciliation," Summer's mood improved dramatically. She seemed
content to be Jack's "friend" and let Becky do what she wanted. Jack was
surprised by it until she explained it to him one night.

"I've had boyfriends almost non-stop since ninth grade. They just wouldn't
stop chasing me. I'd forgotten what it was like to be on my own."

"Nobody's asked you out?"

"A couple of guys. But they seemed to understand when I said it was too
soon. And now that I'm hanging out with you again, well, they don't seem to
know what to think. So they leave me alone. It's nice, actually."

"How are your folks?"

"My mom still pesters me about it, but my dad is starting to tell her to
lay off. I think he likes the idea of my not dating for a while."

"It doesn't bother you the way it bothered Becky?"

"Not really. I know you love me. I'm finding I don't need other people's
opinions to validate it like she seemed to. What it's helped me do is just
the opposite, to see that I don't need to worry so much about what other
people think. I'm actually glad we did this, and not just for Becky's
sake."

"You are?"

"Yeah. It's taught me I can be happy no matter what people think or say
about me. It's liberating not to have to care anymore."

"You should have a talk with her about that."

"I might. Right now I just want to let her enjoy herself."

And enjoy herself Becky did. They went out almost every Friday and
Saturday, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. She never seemed to tire
of walking around on his arm no matter where they were (the only exception,
of course, being Mass--but she still hung around with him before and
afterward).

One Friday night, they were at the Irvine Spectrum waiting for a movie to
start when Becky nudged him.

"Hey, there's Corinne and Michelle."

Jack looked over, and saw them sitting at a table outside the food court.
As they walked closer, he could see something was wrong. Michelle had a
horrified look on her face. She stood up, putting her hand over her mouth.
Corinne reached out for her arm, but Michelle jerked it away.

"Wait--"

Just as they approached, Michelle turned and ran away, tears in her eyes.
Becky let go of Jack and ran ahead.

"What happened?"

Corinne sagged, putting her forehead on her hands.

"I told my folks."

"Oh, boy."

"Yeah."

Becky sat down next to her, and Jack sat on the other side.

"You really told them?" Becky asked.

"It was an accident. Sort of. I just blurted it out. They had been teasing
me about not dating recently, and about who I was going to the Prom with. I
couldn't take it anymore. I just said, 'Mom, I'm a lesbian. If I'm going
with anyone, it will be Michelle.'"

"What did they say?"

She snorted.

"They're so liberated. They were shocked, but then they bent over backward
to let me know everything was okay, that it didn't matter, they loved me
anyway, all that crap. But I could tell they were just saying it. I could
read the grief in my mother's face. They won't do anything, though. I told
them Michelle's folks don't know. So of course they agreed to keep it a
secret. As if they're dying to tell everyone. Anyway, I told Michelle. You
saw how she reacted. She's scared to death about it."

"You really think her folks will go nuts?" Jack asked.

"Beyond nuts. There's no telling what they might do. Maybe even stick her
in a psychiatric hospital. They can't do that in California without a court
order, which they couldn't get just because she was gay, but what they can
do is ship her out of state, like to Utah, where they can."

"You're kidding," Becky said.

"No. It happens all the time. I read about this stuff. There are these
'clinics' set up by right-wing nuts to 'reform' gay teenagers. They're run
by people who still think homosexuality is a mental disorder. As long as
she's a minor, they could keep her locked up in one of those places and no
one could do a thing."

"My God."

"Tell me about it."

"That's what she's scared of?" Becky asked.

"Not that specifically. She just knows her folks will flip out."

"Like mine would. You're lucky."

"I know. I just had to fall for someone with Nazis for parents."

Corinne got up.

"I have to go find her."

Becky got up with her, and Jack followed them. A few minutes later, they
found her crying on one of the benches around the side of the theatre
building. Corinne walked up and sat beside her, putting her arm on her
shoulder. Michelle leaned against her.

"Nothing is going to happen yet," Corinne said a minute later. "No one will
tell your folks until you want."

Michelle sat up, wiping her face, and sniffed.

"No. No. It's time. I'm not going to lie to anyone anymore. They're going
to find out some time. It might as well be now."

"Are you sure?" Becky asked.

"Yeah. I'm going home right now and telling them. If I don't do it now, I
won't be able to later."

"Oh, my God," Corinne said.

"We'd better warn everyone else," Jack said.

Michelle nodded.

"Tell who you want. They'll probably call the school and complain about it.
They'll find someone to blame."

Michelle got up and she and Corinne walked back to her car. Jack and Becky
remained behind.

"Do you really think her folks might have her locked up?" she asked.

"I don't know. But I have an idea."

Jack had been checking in with his caseworker about once a month. Though
she was clearly overworked, she was just as clearly committed to her job,
and worked hard at maintaining a good relationship with him. More than once
she assured him that calling her outside of working hours was perfectly all
right if he had a problem.

"Ms. Johnson? It's Jack O'Leary."

"Jack, how are you doing this evening?"

"I'm fine, I have a question that doesn't really have much to do with me."

"What is it?"

"Two of my friends are lesbians, and they're about to tell their parents."
He didn't feel uncomfortable telling her this, because he knew from prior
experience that she was pretty liberal.

"All right."

"Actually, one of them told her folks tonight, and that's not the problem.
Her folks are okay with it. It's the other friend. Her parents are really
conservative. My other friend is concerned that they might try to have her
committed because of it. Can they really do that?"

"Not in California. But many times, the parents will secretly send the teen
to another state, like Nevada or Utah, where children don't have the same
protections. Once they're out of state, they're beyond our reach. The
Department has averted a few cases like that, though. If we become aware
that the parents are attempting something like this, we can stop it if we
can intervene while the child is still in California."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's against the law in California to hold a teenager in a mental
institution without a court order, and you can't get a court order simply
because the child is gay. Do you think that might happen here?"

"I don't know. But her girlfriend mentioned it tonight."

"What is this girl's name?"

"Michelle Swanson. You aren't going to do anything yet, are you?"

"No, but I can talk to someone about it. We may want to look into it, but
I'll contact you first. Please let me know if anything like this happens.
We have to catch them before they get her out of state. If she's outside
California, it's too late."

Jack called Corinne and filled her in on what he had learned.

"Thank you. God. You're the greatest guy. If I wasn't gay, I'd want to
marry you."

He laughed.

"I think you'd have to get in line."

"I know. But thanks. I'll do what I can to watch what they do to her. As
soon as I know, I'll call you."

"Okay. Remember what she said, though. We have to catch them before they
get her out of state."

The worst night of Michelle Swanson's life was only getting worse. They had
gotten through the "What are you saying to me?" discussion, the "How do you
know for sure?" discussion, and the "How could you do this to us?"
discussion, and were moving into something more ominous.

For the last ten minutes, she had simply sat on the couch crying as her
father stalked around the room, ranting at the top of his lungs. Finally,
he stopped to catch his breath.

"All right. All right. Whatever you may have done up to now, there may
still be hope. You're too young to understand what's going on in your head.
There are people who can help you get better."

"Get better? I'm not sick."

"The hell you aren't! Normal, healthy people don't do things like this! I
don't care what everyone else may say, this is a disease. You are sick, and
you need help."

"Michelle, please let us help you," her mother said. "You can't turn your
back on God and your family this way."

"I'm not turning my back on anything! You're turning your back on me!"

"Don't you speak to your mother in that tone of voice!"

Michelle buried her face in her hands again, and tried to make all of this
disappear. What had possessed her to tell them?

"I am going to make some phone calls. I am going to find someone who can
help us. Right now, you are confined to this house until further notice."

"You can't keep me locked up here!"

"Yes I can. I am your father, and I am not letting my daughter ruin her
life and spit on everything that is decent and moral. Now get up to your
room now."

She stood and ran up the stairs, sobbing.

Paul Swanson was on the phone late into the night and most of Saturday
morning. Just before ten a.m., he found what seemed to be the solution to
their problems. He hated having to do this to his daughter, but she had
left him no choice. God damn the liberals in Sacramento who had made this
necessary, he thought. God damn them to hell.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                    XL.

The news of the impending crisis quickly spread through the squad. Karen
decided to tell Marcia about it (limiting the revelation to Corinne and
Michelle), and she reacted with some confusion, though finally coming down
on their side.

"You have to stand by your friends, I think. I've never really understood
why . . . being gay was so evil."

"But what about Michelle's folks locking her up?"

"You don't know that they'll do that. I think we should just wait and see."

Karen wasn't convinced.

"I can't get a hold of Corinne. I think something is up."

"She's not home?" Jack asked.

"Her mother said she went out early this morning."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder what she's doing."

Karen tried calling Michelle's house.

"I'm sorry, Karen," her mother said. Her voice was frosty, and hoarse.
"She's not feeling well. She can't come to the phone right now."

"Um, okay. Tell her I hope she fells better."

"They won't let her talk to me. Something is definitely up."

Becky had come over, and they were all sitting in Karen and Kelly's room.

"I wish we knew where Corinne was," Becky said.

Michelle had spent a largely sleepless night in her room. Her mother had
come in and taken away her phone right after her father had sent her
upstairs. She thought about running away, but where could she go? Corinne's
folks were unlikely to let her move in, and where else could she run?

When she tried to come down the next morning, her mother intercepted her.

"Michelle, you need to stay up here for now. I'll bring you some
breakfast."

"You can't keep me shut up here like a criminal!"

Her mother glared at her like she'd never seen before.

"Young lady, the Bible tells you to honor your father and mother, and
you've been doing precious little of that lately. You are going to stay up
here and figure out how to get right with God, do you hear me?"

She sat down heavily on her bed, and her mother left, shutting the door
behind her.

She stayed in her room the rest of the morning, and her lunch was delivered
at noon. Feeling like a prisoner, she lay on her bed and didn't acknowledge
her mother when she came in.

Around four o'clock, the doorbell rang. She heard voices downstairs. It was
probably Father Roberts come over to counsel her. Maybe he could help her
somehow.

About ten minutes later, her door opened, and her parents came in her room
together, shutting it behind them. The pained, concerned looks on their
faces put her immediately on her guard.

"Michelle?" her father said.

"What?"

"Your mother and I have come to a very difficult decision, but we believe
this is what is best for you. We've found a place that can help you get
better."

She recoiled, pulling herself back on her bed.

"What do you mean? What place?"

"It's an institution in Utah. They've helped a lot of young people like you
before."

"What? I don't want to go to Utah!"

"Michelle, this is to help you get better. Please try to understand."

"I don't need to get better! I don't want to go!"

The door opened, and two burly men entered. Her mother fell back, covering
her face with her hands. The two men approached her bed.

"Michelle, this will be much easier on everyone if you just cooperate," one
of them said.

"No! Get away from me!"

She pushed herself back into the corner and tried to kick at him. He
grabbed her ankle, and the other man darted in, grabbing her other leg and
her arm. She tried to fight them, but they rolled her on her stomach. One
of them pinned her down while the other pulled her arms behind her back.
She felt something sliding onto her arms, and realized in horror they were
putting a straitjacket on her.

A moment later, they had her restrained, and pulled her to her feet. She
tried to drop to the floor, kicking out at them, but they carried her out
of the room. She lost control at this point, screaming and sobbing.

"No! Daddy, please! Please don't!"

The two men carried her downstairs, through the kitchen and into the
garage. She saw a van backed up into the garage. The side doors was open,
though she fought them, they quickly had her locked to a seat inside. She
continued screaming, hoping someone would hear her.

"Help! Help! Somebody help me!"

As soon as she was locked in place, one of the men produced a gag, and cut
off her screams. When they shut the door to the van, she felt as if she had
descended straight into hell.

Corinne had not been idle. She knew, perhaps better than Michelle, that her
parents might do something rash. She woke up Saturday morning thinking
about what Jack had told her. They couldn't do anything until Michelle's
parents did, but waiting could leave them with only a narrow window to save
her.

She threw on some clothes and drove straight over to Michelle's house. She
knew better than to bother ringing the doorbell--for all she knew,
Michelle's parents might call the police--but she had to do something. She
parked down the street and sat there. If nothing else, I can stake the
place out, she thought.

She had been about ready to leave when the van pulled up in front of
Michelle's house. Could it be happening already? When she saw the two men
get out and walk up to the door, her heart almost stopped. What was going
on? Maybe they were just plumbers or something. Then they backed the van up
to the garage as if to conceal what they were doing.

She was parked four houses away, but she still heard Michelle's screams.
Had she had a gun with her, she would have jumped out and started shooting.
Instead, she had to wait for them to leave, and she followed after them.

As they pulled away, she fumbled in her purse for something to write on.
They pulled up to a light, and she wrote down the license plate number,
then the make and model of the van. She had to get this information to
Jack, but how? She didn't have a car phone, and if she stopped, she would
lose them.

She followed the van onto the freeway, trying not to be too obvious. She
followed them to the 405, then the 91, all the while agonizing that she was
wasting precious time. When they reached Interstate 15 an hour later, she
knew where they were going.

She pulled off the freeway into a gas station. Please, God, she thought,
let Jack be home.

Jack was lying on his bed trying to think. Becky sat at the end, knees up
to her chest. Summer and Karen were in the other room talking.

The phone rang, and a moment later, he heard Karen screeching.

"Jack! Jack! Get in here!"

"What?"

"It's Corinne."

He jumped off the bed and ran into her room. Karen shoved the phone into
his hands.

"Corinne?"

"Jack! They took Michelle! You have to call your social worker!"

"Okay, what do I tell her?"

"They're in a blue Dodge Caravan with Utah plates. The license number is
3D4023. They're on I-15, I think they're going to Utah. I had to pull off
the road to call you."

"Okay, I'll call her right now. What's the number there?"

"I'm not staying. I'm going to try to catch them again."

"Okay. Good luck."

She hung up, and Jack immediately dialed Ms. Johnson.

Michelle stopped crying about half an hour after they left, but it was only
because she ran out of tears. She had never been so miserable in all her
life. Goddamn Corinne for making this happen! Why couldn't they have just
kept going the way they had? Now she was heading off somewhere she might
never come back from. Could they hold her after she turned eighteen? She
had a sinking feeling they wouldn't have to let her out until they wanted
to, and that wouldn't happen until she convinced them she was "cured."

Goddamnit, it wasn't fair! How could they just lock her up like this? Like
she was some kind of criminal. All she had done was fall in love with the
wrong person. She didn't want to think about what they would do to her to
try to change her. Drugs, or hypnosis, maybe. They might be able to change
her no matter how hard she fought them. She imagined a day when she had
been turned into someone else, thanking her parent for doing this and
hating Corinne for "corrupting" her. She started crying again and struggled
against her bonds.

Slowly, her misery turned to rage. Her parents would pay for this, somehow.
She would figure out a way to get free, to convince them she was cured.
Then she would make them sorry they had done this to her. Whatever it took.
If they let her out, and she was eighteen by then, she could do whatever
she wanted.

The two men had the radio playing, so she didn't hear the siren right away.
Only when the driver looked up in the rear-view mirror and exclaimed, "What
the hell?" did she come out of her introspection.

"You speeding?" the other man said.

"No. Sixty-five. The cruise control was on."

"Uh-oh."

"You think?"

"Could be."

The driver pulled the van over to the side of the road. Michelle's spirits
soared. She had to get the officer's attention somehow. She thrashed in her
seat, trying to make noise. The man in the passenger seat spun around.

"Knock it off, damn it!"

She ignored him.

The officer walked up to the passenger side of the van, and the man rolled
down the window about a third. The windows were heavily tinted, and she
didn't think he could see her. But--and this both thrilled and frightened
her--he had his hand on his gun as he approached.

"What's the problem, officer?"

The officer tried to look in the window.

"Can you shut off the engine and both step out of the vehicle, please?"

"What's the problem?"

"Both of you step out of the vehicle now, please."

Glancing at each other, two of them exited the van, trying not to open the
doors too widely. The officer pointed to a spot about ten feet away.

"Both of you stand over there."

He followed them over and patted both of them down. Then, keeping his eye
on them, he opened the passenger door and leaned in. He saw Michelle, and
she squealed.

"Mmph! Mmph!"

"Are you Michelle Swanson?"

She couldn't believe this was happening. She nodded violently, trying to
jump out of her seat. He thumbed the radio handset on his shoulder.

"Dispatch, this is Charlie 312."

"Go ahead, 312," the radio responded.

"I've stopped the blue Dodge Caravan. I have the juvenile here."

"Roger, 312, backup is on its way."

He looked back at Michelle.

"We'll get you out of there in a second. Just sit tight."

She gasped, and began to cry again.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                    XLI.

Another Highway Patrol car arrived about fifteen minutes later, and the
officers arrested the two men. They put them in the back of one of the
cars, and the other officer, a woman, drove Michelle to the nearest CHP
station.

"Someone from Child Services is coming to get you. They'll figure out what
to do."

"You don't know how happy I was to see you guys. I was so scared."

"I understand. This is a bigger problem than you realize. Most kids aren't
as lucky as you are."

"How did you find out?"

"I don't know. We just got a call from Orange County Child Services about
it. They told us the vehicle was on the 15 heading north, and asked us to
intercept it. But it's happened before."

"Really?"

"Yes. Parents get desperate, and they don't want to obey the law. There are
a lot of places like the one they were taking you to who solicit business
in California, knowing they're going to be circumventing the law here. They
send people to snatch the kids like they did to you. Now and then we find
out in time to stop them."

"What happens?"

"They'll both be charged with kidnapping, most likely. It doesn't matter in
California that they had your parents' permission."

"I meant about me."

"I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing it's unlikely you'll be returned
to your parents right away. Child Services will want to have a talk with
them."

"Oh."

"If you don't mind my asking, is this because they think you're gay?"

Michelle gasped.

"How did you know?"

"It's the most common reason, because it's not a valid reason for civil
commitment in California. Taking the kids out of state is the only way to
do it."

"Wow."

"I think it's really sad. I hope one day you and your parents can reconcile
somehow about this."

She frowned.

"Don't hold your breath."

The four of them were fidgeting around Karen's room when the phone rang.
Karen grabbed the phone first.

"Hello?"

Her face lit up, and she shoved the phone at Jack.

"It's her, the woman."

Jack took the phone, watching the tense reactions of the three girls.

"Hi."

"Jack, I wanted to let you know I just got a call from the Highway Patrol.
They caught your friend just north of Barstow. We're sending someone to get
her."

"Oh, God. Thank you."

Karen, Becky, and Summer all gasped at once. Becky and Summer hugged each
other. Karen bounced on the bed next to Jack, trying to listen in.

"No, thank you, Jack. This wouldn't have been possible without your help."

"What's going to happen to her?"

"We're going to hold onto her for now. Someone from Child Services is also
heading over to her parent's house."

"Are they going to get in trouble?"

"Possibly, but unlikely. They did break the law, but at worst, we'll use
the threat of prosecution to encourage them to cooperate."

"How will we know where she is?"

"I'm sure they'll let her call you when she gets a chance. Just relax.
She'll be fine."

Corinne pulled off the road in Barstow. She knew by then she wasn't going
to catch them, and she had to call Jack to see what, if anything, had
happened. When Karen answered and told her, she broke down and cried.

Child Services arrived at the Swanson house just after dark. Out of an
abundance of caution (which proved to be well-reasoned), the social worker
had brought along an Orange County Sheriff's Deputy. Paul Swanson's howls
of outrage could soon be heard several blocks away. A second Sheriff's
Department vehicle pulled up to the house ten minutes later, lights
flashing, and Paul Swanson was carried out of the house in handcuffs. It
was an incident the neighbors would gossip about for months afterward.

By Monday afternoon, the entire school knew what had happened. Corinne
tried to hold herself together, but Michelle was on the verge of tears all
day.

Jack was with Becky after lunch when Summer came up to them.

"Coach Bishop wants to see all of us after seventh period. No mystery why."

"Damn it," Becky said.

"What do you think?" Jack asked.

"She's going to kick Corinne and Michelle off the squad," Becky said. "I
bet you any amount of money."

"The hell she is," Summer said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Explain a few things to her."

In addition to being the cheerleading coach, Katherine Bishop also coached
about half the girl's sports. She had arrived at nine that morning to find
a message from Father Roberts on her voice mail. What he told her nearly
made her faint. Not just one, but two of her cheerleaders were lesbians?
And one of them Michelle Swanson, just about the nicest, sweetest girl in
the world? What was this country coming to?

She hadn't needed Father Roberts' not-so-subtle hints to know what to do.
She found Summer Carlson and informed her she wanted to see all six of them
at three forty-five that afternoon.

The girls began assembling in her office just off the gym after last
period. She expected to find a sympathetic reception to this idea, but she
hadn't. The stern look on Summer's face disturbed her almost as much as
that morning's news.

She almost couldn't bring herself to look at Corinne and Michelle. Could
they possibly be . . .? Ugh. She didn't even want to think about it.

"All right," she began, "I'm assuming you all know why I've asked you here
this afternoon. I think we can all agree that the varsity cheerleading
squad is supposed to represent the best of this school. You young ladies
are the ones who go out to represent Sacred Heart in front of the students,
faculty, and parents, and I don't think you can do that unless you are
upholding certain moral standards--"

"So you're saying?" Summer interrupted.

Bishop scowled at her.

"I am saying that I do not believe that you two"--here she glanced at
Corinne and Michelle--"can continue to represent this school on this squad
under the circumstances. I am giving you the chance to resign so I do not
have to remove you."

"If you kick them off the squad, every one of us will resign," Summer said.
"And I will see to it that no one else bothers to try out to replace us.
Believe me, I can do it."

Katherine Bishop couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was David
Carlson's daughter? David Carlson, the Grand Knight of the local chapter of
the Knights of Columbus? Defending a pair of lesbians?

She looked at the other girls, stunned. All of them were glaring at her.
She might have expected something like this from Karen--she was clearly the
feistiest member of the squad--but Summer? And Becky, too? And Kisu, whose
mother was so old fashioned and uptight she frequently called Bishop to ask
about her daughter's behavior at school? Good God.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Summer said. "And I mean it. If they're gone, the rest of
us are too."

Bishop took a deep breath and tried to regain some composure.

"Okay. If you want to resign, Summer, go ahead. But don't drag the rest of
the squad down with you."

"She's not," Karen said. "We'll do it."

"Right," Becky said.

"Yep," Kisu said.

Bishop almost called their bluff. Who did these little witches think they
were? But this squad had just taken the bronze at the Regionals, the best
showing she had ever coached, and this late in the semester, she couldn't
possibly put together a decent group to replace them, even if Summer didn't
carry out her threat to stage a boycott. Which Bishop knew she could
probably do. Oh, she was sure a few girls would show up, but she was
looking at about half of the school's ruling clique right now. She wasn't
so far out of high school to have forgotten how these things worked.

Her blood began to boil. This was ridiculous! Faced down by a pack of
seventeen-year-old girls!

"Summer, this isn't my decision. Father Roberts made some very strong
suggestions to me this morning. He has his own opinions about how this
school should be run. If you have a problem with it, you need to take it up
with him."

Summer smiled, but it wasn't a pretty sight.

"No, I don't. You do."

She reached into her workout bag and pulled out her uniform. She tossed it
on Bishop's desk.

"You explain it to him. Because I'm out of here."

One by one, all six of the girls dumped their uniforms on her desk. Then
they walked out en masse.

Bishop sat on her desk staring at the pile of yellow and green polyester,
breathing hard. She picked up the phone to call Father Roberts. She wasn't
looking forward to this conversation.

Summer knew very well that the confrontation in Coach Bishop's office was
only the beginning. Father Roberts would soon hear of it, and he tended to
be quite strict about disrespect toward the school's faculty. Rolled
together with an issue like Corinne and Michelle, he would take it very
seriously. But Summer not without a few weapons of her own.

On her way home that afternoon, Summer reflected on how much she had
changed in the last year. Her public persona had become so far divorced
from her private one that she scarcely recognized it anymore. If there was
anything she had learned since this whole crazy mess with the cheerleading
squad began, it was that there were more important things than being
popular. And Jesus Christ, she was graduating in three months. What the
hell did she care what a bunch of high school kids thought, especially if,
as she hoped, she would be 3000 miles away in D.C.?

As soon as she got home, she called Rachel Callahan, the class president.
She and Rachel were good, if not particularly close friends. Rachel was a
born politician, and loved nothing more than a good fight. They discussed
Corinne and Michelle for a few minutes (Summer filled her in on much of the
gossip as a way of bringing her aboard), and Rachel soon agreed that the
two cheerleaders were being unjustly persecuted, and something had to be
done. They discussed tactics for about ten minutes before agreeing to call
some more people.

Summer couldn't help but grin when she hung up. So Father Roberts had a
problem with her friends? BFD. He and Kathy Bishop were about to find out
who really ran this goddamned school.

Father Roberts was even more upset than Summer realized. After speaking
with Kathy Bishop, he had to take a few minutes to compose himself, even
sneaking a glass of sherry out of the bottle he kept in the credenza in his
office. Like Bishop, he was stunned at Summer's behavior.

Father Roberts had known the Carlson family for nearly twenty years. Summer
had begun Sacred Heart in kindergarten, and until today, he thought he knew
her quite well. He had baptized her, for goodness' sake. She had always
been pretty and popular, and until this afternoon's events, he had thought
of her as the sort of young woman his school should strive to produce.
Bright, articulate, respectful, deeply moral and religious. It was as if
she had been replaced by some evil twin.

Yet, as he gave the matter more thought, some sense began to emerge. If
Summer had somehow formed the view that lesbianism was an acceptable
lifestyle, then she was simply standing up for her friends, and doing it so
forcefully that she was willing to give up her position as head of the
cheerleading squad to correct a perceived injustice. That, absent the
lesbian issue, was the Summer he knew.

So where had she gotten this notion that Corinne and Michelle had done
nothing wrong? Not from her parents, that much was certain. David and
Stacey Carlson were typical Orange County conservatives and had long been
deeply involved in the Sacred Heart community. Not from his school either;
Father Roberts had long stood firm against any relaxation of the Church's
stand against homosexuality. No matter what modern customs might dictate,
both the Old and New Testaments were clear in their condemnation of that
lifestyle. Never mind those perennial complaints that the Gospel said
nothing about it; Paul's Letters were as much the received Word of God as
the Gospel was, and that was enough for Father Roberts.

As much as he hated the idea, it was clear that Summer had fallen victim to
modern permissiveness. Before he did anything rash about her disgraceful
behavior toward Coach Bishop, it would be best to have a talk with her.

He called her house but got their voice mail. He left a long message
expressing his concern and asking her to come to his office the next
morning.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                   XLII.

Summer arrived at school the next day to find the whole campus abuzz. Six
different people had come up to her to ask if she had really resigned as
head cheerleader, and the morning wasn't even half over yet. In each case,
she replied, yes, she had, and then tried to explain why. Sometimes she got
a sympathetic reception; sometimes she didn't. But she made it very clear
where she stood and that anyone standing against her was going straight
onto her shit list.

Now she sat outside Father Roberts' office waiting for him to get off the
phone. The message he had left hadn't surprised her, but it had unnerved
her slightly. For all her bravado the night before, this was happening
faster than she expected. She had known Father Roberts all her life, and
she wasn't quite sure she was ready to butt heads with him. She hadn't
gotten into Georgetown yet, and a phone call from him could cause serious
problems with her application. But she had set things in motion, and it was
too late to turn back now.

His voice brought her out of her reverie.

"Summer, come in."

She took a deep breath and tried to shake off her nervousness. If he sensed
it, the meeting might as well be over. She stood and walked into his
office, shutting the door before he said anything. She noticed his eyebrows
go up slightly and felt a small thrill. He repositioned himself in his
chair, sitting up straight.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

Summer sat down in the chair nearest his window, so he would have to deal
with the glare coming in. She thought she had read something about that
tactic once. She saw him squint, and thought, Summer 2, Father Roberts 0.
Then he got up and shut the blinds.

"All right," he finally said. "I'm assuming you know what this is about."

"Father, I'm sorry if I was disrespectful to Coach Bishop yesterday."
Better to throw him that bone right off, since it wasn't important. "But I
don't want to be part of a squad that kicks my friends off when they
haven't done anything wrong."

"Well, we'll get to that in a moment. I'm sure you know that a school
cannot operate without a certain hierarchy. If I allow that hierarchy to
break down, the educational mission is that much more difficult. The
faculty cannot do its job if it much constantly defend the respect that it
deserves."

"I understand, Father. I'll apologize to her if you want. But I'm not going
back onto the squad."

"Well, an apology would be a start. But she also told me that you
threatened to stage a boycott if she tried to replace you."

"Father, I don't think what she was going to do is right. Don't I have the
right to tell my friends that? She has the right to make the rules for the
squad, but if we don't agree with them, don't we have the right not to
participate?"

"Summer, what if I were to tell the Holy Father that I disagree with his
instructions on some issue? Do I have the right to complain and ignore his
teachings?"

"I'm not asking her to change the rules."

"But by staging a boycott, you're exhibiting great disrespect for her
decisions."

"Father, Jesus doesn't say anything about lesbians. I don't think she's
right."

"No, but Saint Paul does. As does the Old Testament."

"It also says not to eat cheeseburgers, and they serve them in our
cafeteria."

Roberts grunted and shifted in his chair. He was not about to get into a
theological argument with this girl.

"Summer, the Church's position on this issue is long established and
well-supported by Scripture. Even if I agreed with you, I'm not in a
position to ignore it. However, if you are willing to apologize to Coach
Bishop and agree to abide by her rules, we can forget this entire
incident."

"I'll apologize to her. But I'm not going back on the squad, and neither
are any of the other girls. We've talked about it."

"All right. Then you and the rest of the squad are assigned one afternoon's
detention for your behavior yesterday. And I'm assuming we have dispensed
with this boycott nonsense."

"Father, I can't control what the rest of the school does. It's not my
fault if people agree with us."

"Perhaps not, but I will not have you agitating the other students on
behalf of Corinne and Michelle."

Summer couldn't resist a smile. She suspected she wouldn't have to. Not
since she'd brought Rachel into this.

"I won't do a thing, Father."

She could tell he noticed her smile, but he didn't say anything about it.
She left his office and found Rachel.

"You got detention for resigning from the squad?"

Rachel's eyes had grown to enormous proportions.

"Me and the rest of us."

"That's so unfair! He can't give you detention for that!"

"He said it was because we were disrespectful to Coach Bishop."

"That's so stupid! That's like . . . like throwing someone in jail for not
taking a bribe or something. Oh! We have to tell people about this."

"I told him I wouldn't do anything. But I didn't say anything about you."

A broad grin spread over Rachel's face, and she bit her lip in glee.

"Okay. Leave it to me. I'll take care of everything."

Rachel Callahan had been waiting for this moment for years. She had been
elected President of the class both this year and last, but the mantle of
office soon began to chafe. She realized fairly quickly that: a) she had no
real authority to do anything (even the Student Senate's decisions on
school dances had to be cleared by Father Roberts) and b) she was unlikely
to ever face a more pressing issue than the color scheme for the Prom.

Then Summer had dropped this bombshell in her lap. She and Summer generally
got along well enough, but she had long been jealous of Summer's greater
influence around the school. Now Summer was stuck on the sidelines, and had
asked for Rachel's help. That alone would have been enough to kick her into
action, even had the injustice of this whole thing not put a charge into
her.

She knew and liked both Corinne and Michelle, and although she had
certainly been surprised by the revelations (she had dismissed the rumors
as just that), and though it did make her just the teensiest bit
uncomfortable, she wasn't going to sit idly by and ignore her one chance to
lead a student uprising. She had already been admitted to Yale, and she
really doubted that liberal institution would get upset about her defending
a pair of persecuted lesbians. Hell, they would probably pat themselves on
the back for recognizing Rachel's potential beforehand.

She went to work at lunchtime, and by the time the bell rang for fifth
period, she had surprised even herself.

Summer, Becky and Karen arrived at detention together. They found Kisu
waiting for them.

"My mother will have a stroke about this," Kisu said. "Don't expect to see
much of me for the next month."

"Me either," Becky said.

Michelle and Corinne walked up a moment later.

"How are you guys doing?" Summer asked.

"I'll live," Corinne said. Michelle just shrugged weakly.

The six of them took their places in the classroom. Everyone looked over
and stared when they came in, including the teacher assigned to supervise.
Only three other students had been assigned detention that day. The teacher
gave them a wary look but said nothing.

At four o'clock, she stood and shut the door to the classroom. She handed a
form to one of the other students.

"Please sign in. Remember for the next hour, there is to be no talking,
note passing, or other communication in this room. Any violations will get
you another afternoon in here. You may do homework or--"

She stopped for a moment. Something was going on out in the
quadrangle--someone was singing. Everyone cocked their ears to the door,
and a moment later, Summer realized it was a group of people singing the
school fight song. Five seconds later, the door opened and Rachel Callahan
came in, followed by about thirty or forty other students, all of them
singing loudly. Summer saw the teacher shooting a nasty glance at her. She
shrugged: This wasn't my idea.

The protesting students ignored the teacher's attempts to regain control.
The cheerleaders remained at their desks, trying not to smile too hard. The
three other students merely looked around, grinning.

Father Roberts heard the singing, at first pleased to hear the school song.
Then it repeated once, twice, and continued. An eyebrow went up. Something
was going on, and he had an idea what it was. Father Roberts had been with
Sacred Heart for over thirty years, and had been Headmaster for almost
twenty. This wasn't the first or even the fifth student protest he had
dealt with. There hadn't been anything in the last few years, but he
supposed they were overdue. He had been afraid something like this was
coming but had hoped to avert it.

He leaned over to his window above the Quad, and saw a mass of students
outside the detention room. No mystery what was up.

He got up from his desk and walked downstairs. He met Laetitia Gonzales,
the teacher in charge of detention this week, on his way out of the
administration wing.

"Father--"

"I hear it."

She fell in behind him as he walked over to detention.

Although Father Roberts had something of a reputation as a disciplinarian
around the school, he had learned a few things about student protests in
his years as a teacher. One of them was that it was important not to create
martyrs, and not to let his ego get in the way of resolving the dispute.
The best way to deal with a protest was to find a way to disperse the
students as quickly as possible. Threatening them all with suspension was
pointless, and the students knew that. Suspending that many at once would
have a mob of angry parents on the phone to him that night. He didn't want
to endanger their college admissions anyway. That would be overkill.

The students saw him coming, and the singing began to die down. Then it
redoubled in volume as if someone in the classroom were spurring them on.
He squeezed his way in and was not surprised to find Rachel Callahan
leading the group. He looked over at Summer, who tried to put on her best
expression of innocence. This was why she had smiled at him at the end of
their meeting that morning. She had probably already set this thing in
motion before they talked.

Father Roberts raised his arms in the air and motioned for silence. The
singing finally stopped.

"Detention is cancelled for today. Please clear out of the classroom. I
will address the school on this issue tomorrow. For now, I want you all to
just go home, all right?"

He ignored the cheers and applause that greeted his announcement. The
students began to file out of the room, congratulating themselves. He took
Summer's arm as she stood up.

"Father, I didn't ask anyone to do this. I told you I wouldn't do anything
and I didn't."

"Am I to believe you had nothing to do with this?"

"I mentioned to Rachel that we'd gotten detention. That was all."

He sighed and let go of her.

"I'm counting the minutes until my folks find out about this," Summer said.
"It's only a matter of time."

She was driving home with Jack, Becky and Karen.

"I'm guessing a lot of the kids are telling their folks," Becky said. "The
parents will be calling around."

"I wonder what Father Roberts is going to do," Jack said.

Father Roberts was wondering that himself.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                   XLIII.

Becky was doing her homework when her mother came in her room.

"Rebecca, is there something you want to tell me?"

Becky leaned back, knowing what had happened. Her mother never called her
Rebecca unless there was a problem.

"I quit the squad. We all did."

"So I was just told. I could not believe my ears. You were actually
defending those friends of yours?"

"Yes. I don't think it's right that the coach was going to kick them off.
None of us did."

"Good God, what has gotten into you? Didn't we raise you better? You don't
see anything wrong with what those two have been doing?"

"They're my friends. You raised me not to stab people in the back."

"Are you telling me you knew about this?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

Becky sighed, looking down at the floor.

"A while. A long time."

"You knew what they were doing, and you continued associating with them?"
she screeched. "You actually stayed friends with people like that?"

Becky closed her eyes, wanting to cry. If only her mother knew the whole
truth. Would she be reacting the same way if she knew her daughter was
"like that" also?

"Yes."

"For God's sake, why?"

"Because they're my friends. And because Jesus doesn't a single word about
lesbians."

Pain shot through her head as her mother jerked her hair up. She stared at
Becky for a moment, wild-eyed, then slapped her.

"How dare you! You know damned well what the Bible says about that!"

Becky pulled away, trying to free herself from her mother's grasp.

"Let go of me!"

"How could you do this? How could you turn your back on everything we
taught you?"

She jumped up, backing away from her mother.

"Because I didn't have any choice!"

Her mother stood there, suddenly bewildered.

"What are you talking about?"

Before Becky could respond, her door opened further, and her father came in
the room.

"What on earth is going on? Why are you two screaming?"

Her mother ignored him, amazement beginning to spread over her face.

"Rebecca, what do you mean you didn't have any choice?"

Becky stood there, face in her hands, feeling the tears running between her
fingers. A second later, she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder and
jumped.

"Honey? What do you mean you didn't have any choice?"

She took a ragged breath and stared up at the ceiling.

"Because I am 'like that' also. I am bisexual. Believe me I sometimes wish
I weren't. I wish I didn't have to think you would hate me if you knew. I
wish I didn't have to be the kind of person everyone thinks is going to
hell because of feelings I have no control over. I wish I didn't live in
terror every day of this discussion and how you would react. I wish I
didn't have to worry that my whole family would abandon me because of
something I didn't ask for and can't do anything about."

She gathered up the strength to look at her mother. She was standing there,
jaw halfway to her chest, face white. Her father looked even more shocked,
having missed the preliminaries to this discussion.

Her mother reached out slowly, putting her hand on Becky's arm.

"Honey," she said very quietly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I am sure."

Her mother's grip on her arm tightened, she pulled Becky toward her,
embracing her. Now somewhat shocked herself, Becky let her mother hold her.

"How could you think I could ever hate you?" she said a moment later.

"Because of the things you and Dad say about this. What else am I supposed
to think?"

"Honey, that's just . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence.

Her mother pulled back to look at her, brushing Becky's hair back from her
face. Then she hugged her again.

"Nothing in this world could make me hate you. Sad or angry or surprised,
but I could never hate you. I love you more than anything."

"But, what about . . ."

"Honey, I'm still in shock. I don't know how I feel about this yet, but you
don't have to worry that any of us will hate you. We're not going to
abandon you."

"Mom, I didn't choose to be this way. I know that as much as I know
anything."

"Honey, we'll . . . we'll talk about it. I promise. But you don't have to
worry about us."

"Okay."

She hugged Becky for a few more moments, then released her. She took a deep
breath and exhaled.

"Does Jack know?"

"Yes. He knows everything. And he's never cared. He loves me for who I am."

Her father finally stepped forward.

"But you couldn't tell us?"

"Dad, what was I supposed to think the way you and Mom talk?"

"You were afraid to tell us?"

"Yes. I was scared to death. I still am."

Her words seemed to stagger him. Then her father took her in his arms.

"Becky, you don't have to worry that we will reject you. However we work
this out, we still love you, no matter what."

Becky's control finally wavered, and she began to cry on her father's
shoulder, sobbing half in stress and half in relief. Maybe it wouldn't be
so bad after all.

Similar discussions were talking place around the neighborhood. Corinne's
parents, true to form, tried to express their support but were only
partially successful. Kisu had a screaming fit with her mother, but
refrained from spilling the secret. Summer's mother was upset enough at her
quitting cheerleading that Summer didn't feel the need to confess anything
else. Karen and Marcia had a long talk about what had happened, and Karen,
in a fit of candor, spilled the beans about her relationship with Becky.
Marcia was at first shocked, then cried, then began to laugh, wondering out
loud how she hadn't noticed it. The night ended with a group hug and
expressions of unconditional love.

Father Roberts had intended to call an assembly for the Upper School to
explain his position, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt it
would only prolong the crisis. Was he going to expel Corinne and Michelle
simply for being lesbians? No. He hadn't expelled Amanda Press and Marcy
Rennet two years before, despite calls from some parents asking him to.
That being the case, he wasn't sure if he was ready to get up in front of
the whole school and condemn them. It wouldn't really be fair. Anyway, they
were graduating in less than three months. Had they been juniors, he might
well have told their families not to return them to school the next year.
As it was, the problem would resolve itself soon. And he was just not ready
for yet another lecture about teen sex. He had been doing this for twenty
years, and frankly, he was getting sick of it. He had never really believed
that it was the proper role of a priest to lecture people on their sex
lives.

So in the end, he settled on a brief, vague, announcement over the P.A.
about paying attention to one's own morals and not expending so much energy
judging others. "Take out the beam in your own eye before tending to the
mote in your brother's," he said.

He had given that lecture more than once before, too. This might be the
year he starting thinking seriously about retirement. This job was just too
damned stressful. He took a swig of sherry, leaned back in his chair, and
thought about playing golf in Palm Springs.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                   XLIV.

Becky went into therapy with her parents, who had turned into people she
didn't recognize. They agreed to keep the issue to themselves until they
decided how to handle it, but she was amazed at the realization that they
might just be able to deal with her being bisexual.

Kisu's mother grounded her again. She couldn't quite put a reason on why,
but it seemed like the thing to do. Kisu resigned herself to it and went
back to studying, dreaming of the day she could go off to college and be
free of this harridan of a mother. She had gotten wait-listed at Stanford,
so there was some reason to be happy anyway.

Summer's mother stopped speaking to her for a week, which Summer was just
fine with. When Summer finally convinced her that she was through with
cheerleading, things went slowly back to normal. Summer was only somewhat
surprised that her mother seemed to care more about the cheerleading than
about Corinne and Michelle.

The Swanson family's legal issues were addressed in a consolidated hearing
in mid-March. Paul Swanson was fined $1000 and sentenced to 200 hours of
community service, having assaulted the social worker and Sheriff's Deputy
who arrived at their house the night Michelle had been rescued. Through
Child Services, Michelle had filed a request for a writ of emancipation,
but rather than oppose her request, Paul Swanson sued Orange County Child
Services for taking her. The judge threw the suit out on sovereign immunity
grounds, and issued the writ of emancipation. The judge's order was
conditioned on Michelle going to live with Corinne's parents, who then got
into a violent argument with Paul Swanson. It took four Sheriff's Deputies
to pry them all apart. The Deputies had to drag Corinne's mother out of the
courtroom, and she complained to anyone who would listen that there was
nothing wrong with lesbianism. Corinne finally prevailed upon her to shut
up, and the judge then fined Paul Swanson another $300 for contempt of
court.

Kathy Bishop held tryouts for the replacement cheerleaders. Three people
showed up, none of whom were really qualified. She settled for promoting
the J.V. squad to varsity a couple of months early.

Shortly after arriving home from school one Friday afternoon in late March,
Jack was lying on his bed reading when he heard Karen begin screeching and
squealing.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Jack! Look!"

He came down the stairs to see her holding a big envelope in her hands and
a huge grin on her face.

"It's from Georgetown! I think I got into Georgetown!"

She jumped up and down as he came down to hug her.

"Open it up."

She tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. She scanned the top
before screaming again and hugging him tightly.

"I did! I did!"

He hugged her for about ten seconds before she let him go.

"Oh, God. I have to call someone. Who do I call?"

"Your mom first."

"Okay."

She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. She dialed her mother's
number and stood grinning, wiping her eyes.

"Mom! I got into Georgetown!" She paused a second, listening. "Yes! It just
came! Already!"

Jack listened to her gushing into the phone for a few minutes. Then she
called Becky and Summer and repeated the routine with them. Only after
about half an hour did she begin to calm down.

"Now you have to get into Annapolis. I can't have you stuck anywhere else
in ROTC or something."

"We'll see. It won't be for a while, though."

"I know. I can't believe it came this soon."

"You must have impressed them."

"Oh, God. What about Becky and Summer? I could tell they were happy for me,
but I knew they were thinking about them, too."

"It will happen somehow. I know it."

"I hope so. I want so bad for it to happen. It would be so awful if only
one or two of us got in."

"We've been through this. It's out of our hands now."

"I know. I can't help it though."

They waited another week, into the beginning of April, before anything else
happened. The phone rang Thursday afternoon, and Jack picked it up to find
Summer screaming in his ear.

"I got in! I got in!"

"Great! I knew it."

"This is going to be so much fun. All that's left is for Becky to get in
too."

Somehow, Jack knew it was going to come down to this.

As the days went on with no word from Georgetown, Becky grew more and more
depressed. Jack spent more time with her, trying to comfort her, with only
partial success. She began talking about moving to D.C. with them anyway,
even if she didn't get in. Jack walked home with her every afternoon,
hoping to be there when the word came, whatever it was.

It happened in late April. As they had begun doing, Jack opened the mailbox
for her. He saw only envelopes.

"Nothing."

She stared at the ground and took the envelopes out. She flipped through
them, and her face suddenly twisted into shock.

"Oh, God!"

She crumpled one of the envelopes in her fist, and her eyes slammed shut on
burgeoning tears. Jack's stomach dropped, and his breath caught in his
throat. He took her in his arms, feeling her shake with sobs, knowing it
would do no good. She hammered her fists on his chest, sobbing out loud.

"No! No! Oh, God, no!"

He pulled the envelope out of her hand. As he knew, it was from Georgetown.
He opened up it to make sure. The contents knocked him out of his daze.

"Wait. Wait. You didn't get rejected. You just got wait- listed."

She stopped crying, and took a ragged breath.

"I did?"

"Yes. You can still get in. I bet you will. I know it."

"But I didn't get in."

"You will. Have some faith."

She gasped for breath.

"Are you sure?"

"You have to. Just pray."

"Okay."

"And I haven't gotten into the Academy yet anyway."

"Oh, like that's suspense."

"Nothing is guaranteed."

"You meant what you said before? You'd never let go of me whatever
happened?"

"Yes. Don't ever stop believing that."

Three days later, Jack was in his room after school when the phone rang.

"Jack!" Karen yelled. "It's for you. It's some man."

He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Jack? This is Major Steve Harris. We met at your Academy interview in
December."

Jack's heart jumped into his throat.

"Yes, sir. How are you doing, sir?"

"Just fine, Jack. I'm calling to let you know your application to Annapolis
has been accepted. You're going to be lining up with the other plebes in
June."

He was unable to form a coherent response.

"I'm sorry for the delay, but they like to let everyone know at once. I
don't think there was ever much doubt about your appointment. I hope you
can stand hanging out with those Navy pukes for the next four years,
because we're really eager to get you into the Corps."

"Yes, sir. Thank you so much, sir."

He saw Karen peering past his door with an excited look on her face.

"You'll be getting the packet in the mail any day now. I just wanted to let
you know as soon as I could."

"Thank you, sir. You don't know what this means to me."

Karen stifled a squeal and began jumping up and down in his doorway,
holding her hands to her mouth.

"Yes, I do, Jack. I understand completely. Just enjoy it. You've got a lot
of work ahead of you, but I know you'll do wonderfully."

"Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, Jack. And good luck."

"Good bye, sir."

As soon as he hung up, Karen squealed.

"Was that it?"

"Yes."

She screamed, and threw herself at him. He held her, and started laughing,
crying at the same time. He didn't deserve this, he though in the back of
his mind, but it was happening anyway.

Everyone was thrilled to tears, except for Becky, which hardly surprised
him. She hugged him when he told her, then started crying. Summer and Karen
had agreed without discussion to let Jack take Becky to the Prom, but it
hadn't made any difference. Becky got into UCLA and UC Irvine, but didn't
seem to care.

He spent more and more time with her, doing little but comfort her. Somehow
she got through finals week, and they prepared for the Prom. Karen went
with the same boy she'd gone to the Winter Formal with, and Summer went
with a friend of her family's from Church.

As Jack got ready that night, he thought he deserved this predicament. Of
the three girls, Becky was the one who least deserved this, not that any of
them did, but she was the least able to deal with it. He had racked his
brain for a solution, but knew it was futile. Her parents would not let her
give up a chance at UCLA to follow her boyfriend to D.C. and wait on
tables. Jack wasn't sure he would agree to it either, for her sake. But of
course, he couldn't possibly ask her not to. It would kill her.

They had rented a limo that night, and it pulled up to the house around
six. Jack came down to check in with the driver--he had paid for most of
it, after asking his trustee for the money, and then waited for Karen's
date to show up. When he did, they picked up Summer and her date. Her
parents were friendly, but somewhat distant with him, which didn't surprise
him.

Then they went to pick up Becky.

Jack walked up to the door, knowing this might be the last serious night he
had with her. He was leaving for Annapolis in a few weeks, and it would
likely be a long time before he saw her again after that. He was going to
do his absolute best to make this night perfect for her.

Becky's mother answered the door.

"Hi, Jack, come on in."

He followed her into the living room. She had been noticeably less uptight
since Becky's revelation, and he wondered how well Becky really knew them.
Sometimes people surprised you.

"You look so handsome. Wait until Becky gets a look at you."

"Is she ready?"

"I think so."

She leaned into the stairway.

"Jack is here, honey."

Becky appeared a moment later. She wore an elegant white gown, floor length
but swooping up with a curving slit on one side up to her knee. It had a
low back and the front was gathered up at her neck. Her hair was up in an
elaborate arrangement on the back of her head. But what he noticed most was
the look on her face. She was smiling, genuinely smiling for the first time
in weeks. Her hands were behind her back as she descended the stairs.

"Hi."

"Hi. You're beautiful."

"Thanks. I have a little surprise for you."

"What?"

She brought her hands around and held out a piece of letter-sized paper.
With a shock, he saw the Georgetown letterhead at the top of it. He knew
what it said before he read the first line.

She squealed and threw her arms around him, and he hugged her for all he
was worth.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                  EPILOGUE

Second Lieutenant Jack O'Leary stood at the front of the Annapolis Chapel
and awaited his bride. He had received his commission only a week before,
and he had a week left for their honeymoon before he had to report to
Pensacola for flight training. She had graduated shortly before him, and
they had agreed that she would put graduate school on hold for two years
while he got his wings. Then, once he was stationed somewhere, she would
return to school.

He saw Marcia sitting in the front row, wiping her eyes. They had remained
close, and though no one could ever replace his mother, she had come about
as close as anyone could. To his left were the groomsmen. His best man was
his roommate and teammate on the football team. Jack hadn't started until
his junior year, but he had shown the same talent for Navy that he had for
Sacred Heart. The team went 11-2 his last year, beating Nebraska in the
Cotton Bowl, and finishing the regular season by beating Notre Dame for the
first time in about forty years. A few pro scouts had shown some interest
in him, but that evaporated when his intention to be a career officer
became clear.

Randy Nelson stood next in line, the tallest of the groomsmen. He and Jack
had remained friends as Randy went off to play for U.S.C. He had been
drafted in the second round by Miami, and was preparing for summer camp in
a month or two. Beside him was another of his Annapolis classmates, and
beside him was his bride's brother.

He watched the bridesmaids walking up the aisle, Kelly coming first,
smiling at him. She had just completed her freshman year at Cal Tech,
having discovered a serious aptitude for mathematics once Jack had helped
her over her initial problems.

The next two were college classmates of the bride's, women Jack was
friendly with, but didn't know all that well. Then he watched the last two
women come up the aisle, people he would love forever no matter what
happened. But in the end, as they all knew, he had to make a choice.

It had happened more easily than they expected. As the happy little
foursome began its first year of college, they had reveled in their
newfound freedom. But once the sneaking around was over, and they had to
stand on their own, a few things had become apparent. For two of them,
though they loved Jack as much as anyone, their relationship with him had
served to heal something inside them, a steppingstone to greater growth and
maturity. When that had happened, they knew things wouldn't be quite the
same.

Only one of them had really loved him for who he was without asking for
anything in return. She was the one he was about to marry.

He watched them taking their places opposite him, two maids of honor though
it was something of an irregularity. Jack wondered how many men had gotten
married having slept with three of the bridesmaids. They smiled at him, and
wiped tears from their eyes as Marcia was doing.

He thought then of the other girls. Kisu had gotten into Stanford, and they
had since lost touch with her. Corinne and Michelle had gone to U.S.C.
together, broken up, then gotten back together a couple of years later, and
now shared a little house in West Hollywood as open lesbians. Michelle's
parents had essentially disowned her, but she did still keep in contact
with some of her siblings. He saw the two of them sitting together just
behind Marcia and winked at them.

The organist began the processional music, and his bride appeared. As
beautiful as she was, he had never seen her prettier than she was now. He
watched her mother crying as she came up the aisle with her father. They
stopped a step below Jack, and her father took his hand as the priest began
the ceremony.

"Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?" he said a minute later.

"Her mother and I do."

He lifted her veil to kiss her on the cheek, and then put her hand in
Jack's. They walked up a step as the maids of honor arranged her train.

Jack wondered what was going through the priest's head. When they had
gotten engaged the summer before, Jack had made a decision to come clean
with God. He didn't want to go into marriage without knowing that God would
truly bless their union. And so, though she was somewhat hesitant about it,
they had confessed everything. Every bit of what had gone on.

The priest, to put it very mildly, had been shocked, and had initially told
them he would not perform the ceremony. But she and Jack had convinced him
of their sincerity and desire to get right with God, and he had,
reluctantly, agreed, provided that they strictly followed his instructions.

For almost a year, they had been celibate, doing nothing more than kiss and
pray endless rosaries together asking for God's forgiveness. Jack was
concerned about the wedding night. He doubted they were going to get much
sleep. He just hoped they didn't hurt each other.

The priest at last began the vows, turning to Jack.

"Repeat after me. I, Jack."

"I, Jack."

"Take you, Summer."

"Take you, Summer."

"To be my wife."

"To be my wife."

"To have and to hold, from this day forward."

"To have and to hold, from this day forward."

"For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health."

"For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health."

"For as long as we both shall live."

"For as long as we both shall live."

He watched the tears running down her face as she repeated her vows. Then
the priest blessed the rings, and he slid the ring onto Summer's finger.

"And you thought you wouldn't be the one," he whispered to her.

"No," she replied. "I knew I would. Somehow. I knew."

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                  THE END
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

                       Love doesn't come in a minute.
                     Sometimes it doesn't come at all.
                      I only know that when I'm in it,
                      It isn't silly, it isn't silly,
                          Love isn't silly at all.

                 --Silly Love Songs, Paul McCartney/Wings
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------




    

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