Severance Pay (Chapters 19 Through 24 Of 78) free porn video

SEVERANCE PAY CHAPTER NINETEEN It's been two days since Gretchen made her grand entrance. She's gone back to wearing her old uniforms but she's interested in making alterations. I'd like to help her but Sister Carmela's going to be hardnosed about girls doing the work themselves. That's one way to make sure only the most dedicated take advantage of the loophole. So far, I've only seen a couple of girls even make the attempt, and the results weren't pretty. To be honest about it, that doesn't bother me at all. If it works out that I'm the only girl with attractive uniforms, so be it. Gretchen and I hang out at lunch and whenever we aren't in class. I've told her that I could probably make all her clothes fit as well as the altered uniform. Have sewing machine will travel. I can tell she wants it badly but doesn't think her dad will allow me to come to the house. I can't push her but I can keep making sure she knows the offer is available. With luck, I can wear her down and she can try to wear him down. She told me that she told her dad about me, which is very good news. I want him to know my name, to know as much as he can about me. Not the real me, of course, but the public me. I'd send him my resume if I could. By the end of the day, I can't wait to climb onto my bike and ride home. Physics was a bear today. Even if the knowledge is in my head, I've still got to understand it to use it; I can't just spit out a bunch of factoids. Connelly was trying to make a connection between physics and economics, and then she expected me to explain it to the rest of the class. I had no idea what she was talking about. It was a tense class to say the least. As I approach my bike, I notice three girls loitering around it, looking suspicious. You have to be an expert to intentionally "hang around" without standing out like a sore thumb, and these girls weren't experts. When I got closer, I saw it was Caitlin McBride and her two henchmen, Sinclair and Woodruff. It's taken them longer than I thought to get around to this. It should improve my mood. Woodruff is partially blocking the right side so I pull my helmet on and mount from the left. I kick out the starter and hop up to fire the engine when McBride reaches out and grabs the handle bars. "We need to talk." I settle back into the seat and flip up my helmet's visor. "About what?" "I know what you did for Gretchen Hobbes." "So do most of the girls in St. Ann's." "I'm not most of the girls." "Really. Who are you? I don't think we share any classes." That'll piss her off. "She's Caitlin McBride you stupid little BITCH!" said Sinclair. "No use getting rude about it. I'm Patricia Conner. What can I do for you all?" McBride's grip on my handle bars tightens. "You can fix my uniforms so that they're better than yours or Hobbes'." "Just yours, not all three of you?" "Well sure ... eventually, but mine are first." There's just a hint of uncertainty on Sinclair's and Woodruff's faces. "Sorry, can't help you. The rules are you have to do it yourself. Sister Carmela might let me be an instructor but that's probably as far as she'd go." "I don't care what Carmela's rules are. You're going to do what I tell you or else." "Or else what?" "Or else things will get hard for you around here." "Could you be more specific?" "What?" "Could you give me some more details as to your specific threat?" "Never mind how we'd do it, we can do it." "I don't think you can. You see, there's nothing I have that you can take from me." Woodruff steps closer, her fist drawn back. "What if I just punch your lights out right here? Is that good enough for you?" "Here? Now? In broad daylight with all of these security cameras focused on the parking lot?" Sinclair and Woodruff start looking around, suddenly aware of the three security cameras Sister Carmela uses to monitor the parking lot, mostly to watch for smokers but also to protect all the expensive cars the different girls drive. Woodruff drops her hand to her side and unclenches her fist, but McBride keeps staring at me. "We have our ways." "Well, when you feel like telling me about them, you know where you can find me. Until then, I suggest that you let go of my bike so I can go home. My mom's expecting me and I hate to disappoint her. Of course, if you don't want to let go, we can get involved in some kind of fight, which would lead to your expulsion." "Or maybe yours. It would be our word against your word." "Plus the video cameras, plus three against one, plus you three are so much bigger than little old me, plus you're not exactly Sister Carmela's favorite person, are you? I like those odds. So ... what is it going to be?" McBride's hands flex several times, then she suddenly releases my handlebars and steps back, scowling at me. The other two also step away. "This isn't over, Conner. I'll be seeing you later." "I look forward to it, ladies." I drop the visor, hop up and push down on the starter, gun the engine a couple of times and roar off, doing a little bit of a wheelie as I head for home. Not a bad start. * * * *** * * * *** * * * As I pull up to the house, there's a Florida Power and Light van parked in the street opposite it, two guys sitting in the front seat. They eye me as I turn into the driveway, slide to a stop and kill the engine. I keep a watch on them with my side view mirrors as they get out of the van and walk up behind me. When they get about ten feet away, I pull off my helmet and hop off the bike, facing them. The taller guy, a young blonde hangs back a couple of steps as the older guy, salt and pepper hair, mostly balding, walks closer, smiling. "Afternoon little lady, is this the Connor residence?" "Yes, it is." "Good. We've got a work order. The automated meter has been sending some weird data. Either it's broken or you've got a big power surge somewhere in the house. We need to check all the circuitry to make sure everything is safe. Is your mother home?" Interesting. He didn't ask if a parent was home, he specifically asked about my mother. It may just be the normal sexist assumption that the woman of the house should be at home this time of day ... or maybe they already know something about me. "I'm afraid she's still at work. Could I see your work order?" "Sure." The older guy reaches back and the younger guy hands him an electronic pad. He punches in a couple of numbers and touches the screen, then steps closer, handing it to me but not letting go. "It's right here." I turn the pad a little to reduce the glare reflecting off the screen. It looks legitimate. I'd never seen the electronic version before but I'd used the same trick back in the day to plant bugs in some target's home, only my work orders were paper and on a clipboard. I swear, you could go darn near anywhere you wanted if you wore a hard hat, carried a clipboard and acted like you knew what you were doing but weren't happy about doing it. The power of the appearance of authority and expertise. It was hard to keep from smiling at these guys. "Gosh. It sure looks official. I guess it would be okay for you to come in. My mom would want me to see some I.D.s' though. Do you have an I.D.?" Baldy gives me that condescending smile you reserve for children and pets. "I certainly do, little lady." He reaches up to his shirt collar and pulls out a laminated card on a chain around his neck. Blondie does the same. I check out Baldy's first, then Blondie's, memorizing both of them. Ryan Koharchick and Zach Rosing. "Well Mr. Koharchick, I better let you in so you and Mr. Rosing can get to work. Mom should be home in an hour or so. How long should this take?" Baldy stuffed his I.D. back into his shirt. "Not too long Miss. I can check the meter and Mr. Rosing can start checking each room." "EVERY room? My bedroom's kinda a mess. If you give me a couple of minutes I can straighten up and ..." "That's not necessary Miss. We've seen it all in this business, haven't we Mr. Rosing?" "Uh ... Yeah." Blondie hasn't had much experience with this, Baldy's clearly the Senior Partner. Baldy takes back the electronic pad, handing it to Blondie, who puts it in his tool bag. "If you could just show me to the electric meter, I'll get started and we'll be out of your pretty hair in no time." Oh, he's gooood. I lead them to the back door. The meter is on the wall next to it. Baldy stops there as I open the door and Blondie follows me in. I drop my book bag on the kitchen table and pull out a chair. "Do you need anything from me?" "No ... nothing." He really needs to work on his patter. I sit down and take some books from my bag. "Okay. I'll just be here, working on my homework. You can call if you want me." Blondie strolls out of the kitchen, carrying his tool bag. I spread my books out on the table and then carefully listen as he moves through the house. I'd rather follow him around, it'd be easier to find the bugs after they leave but it would just cramp their style, making them suspicious. After about ten minutes, Baldy comes in through the back door. He's surprised to find me sitting there but recovers quickly. "Was the meter alright?" I ask. "I can't say yet, it seemed to be but we won't know until we check the rest of the house." "Do you need to check the kitchen?" "Yeah." "I'm not in the way am I?" "No ... no, you're not in the way." As long as I stay in the kitchen, they can't plant a bug in here. This is the one room they'd really like to cover, people spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but I'm not budging. This will give us a safe area. I watch Baldy as he messes around with a hand held meter while checking each outlet. "Any problems?" I ask after he finishes with the last one. "Nothing yet. I'll just go help my partner." "I'll stay right here until you're done." "Great." He leaves and I go back to listening. They're working independently, covering the house quicker. By the time they come back to the kitchen, it's only been about twenty five minutes since they first stopped me in the driveway. They're either very good or very sloppy. I keep my seat at the table. "All done?" "I think so, Miss" said Baldy. "We didn't find anything wrong with the wiring in the house so the problem must be in the meter. I'll change the modem card before we leave, that should solve the problem." "Will we get a messed up electric bill this month?" "No, it should look completely normal. We caught the problem early." Blondie hands him the digital pad, he makes a couple of entries and hands it to me. "If you could just sign on that line there, saying we were here." "I don't know if I can, I'm only sixteen. My birthday's a few weeks away." "That's okay Miss, it's not a contract or anything, anyone in the household over fifteen can sign." "Well, I can do that." I take the pad and stylus from him, sign and hand it back with a big smile. "Thanks for coming and checking it out; I feel sooo much safer now." Baldy returns the smile. "You're welcome, little lady, just doing our jobs. We'll be checking out some other houses in the area over the next few weeks, so flag us down if you have any problems." They head for the door, but I stay seated and wave at them as they leave. I wait ten seconds then hurry to the window and carefully peak out. They are both walking down the driveway toward their FPL van, so no one did anything to the meter. I also notice a couple of extra antennas on the roof of the van. That was a nice touch, adding that bit about checking out other houses in the neighborhood. That way, we aren't supposed to be suspicious if we see the van again near the house. It'll be interesting to see what kind of range the bugs have; Hobbes probably can afford the best equipment. * * * *** * * * *** * * * "How'd it go Mitch?" "Easy Peazy Louie. Put your damn candy wrappers in the trash, will ya? We're gonna spend a lot of time in this van the next few days and I'd rather it not be a pig sty." "Don't worry about it Mitch. You'll lose what little hair ya got left." "Funny man. You wait a couple of years, see how much hair you have." Louie's always been a slob but he's also one of the best techs in the business. Though, after a few days cooped up with him in the back of a van, the balance starts to tip towards dumping his ass in the street and hosing the van clean. Johnny climbed into the driver's seat, closed the door and started the engine as I closed my door. "Take us around the corner Johnny, give Louie the chance to calibrate the bugs." "Sure thing. You think this'll only take a couple of days?" "Do you see her?" "Yeah. I'd like to have her dance on my dick, watch those titties bounce." "I meant that she's just a kid. I don't know what Cardoza suspects but there's nothing there. You saw the house, her room ... just a normal kid ... with great knockers." * * * *** * * * *** * * * When I got home, Patricia was just sitting at the kitchen table. She hadn't started supper yet. "What's up? Why haven't you started supper?" She handed me a piece of paper and put her finger too her lips. "Some guys were here from Florida Power and Light. They said there might be something wrong with the electricity." She pointed to the paper. I read it. [The house has been bugged. We need to talk. Suggest we go out and eat.] I'm stunned for a moment. I don't know what to do but Patricia reaches out and taps the paper with her finger then points at me. I know I have to say something. "Uhhh ... maybe it's not safe to use the stove. Let's go out for supper." "No, I'm sure it's safe. They said everything was fine." She rolled her hand, encouraging me to keep going. "I'd rather be safe, honey. We can go to Burger King. You love Whoppers." "You sure Mom? I'd be happy to fix something." "No, no, let's go out." She winks at me. "If you say so." How is she so calm about this?! Someone came in and bugged our house! I think she reads my face because she comes over to me and leans over to whisper into my ear. "This is a good thing. Just be cool and I'll explain. Talk about normal things until we get to Burger King, your car may be bugged too." What?! My car?! Who are these people? Patricia seems to be handling this well, certainly better than I am. She takes my arm and leads me to the car. "Do you want to drive?" I ask. "Why?" "You could use the practice." And I don't trust myself to concentrate right now. "Fine. Give me your keys." I toss my keys to her, which she easily catches with her left hand. We get into the car, she starts the engine, backs out of the driveway and drives off, circling the block. She slows as she passes a FLP van, nodding her head at it as we drive by. "Is that ..." "Those are the friendly guys who checked out our home." "I see ... so, how was school today?" "Fine. I had a nice talk with Caitlin McBride and her friends just before I came home." "Really. Haven't you been wanting to talk with her?" "Yes, it went very well too." "You've had a productive day." "Yep." She reached over and turned on the radio, tuning it to a popular music station. It was a little loud for my taste but I assumed it was to cover any conversation we might have. She didn't say anything else all the way to the restaurant, but she did keep checking the mirrors and made a couple of very sharp turns. Once we got to Burger King, we placed our orders, got our food and sat down. I didn't say anything for a minute or two, waiting for Patricia to go first, but she said nothing. I couldn't wait any longer. "So, this is a good thing how?" "It means I've got his interest, he's checking me out. Even as paranoid as he is, Hobbes wouldn't waste his time having somebody investigated unless there was something he had in mind. It's probably just the fact that I'm his daughter's friend, but once he thinks he knows me, he's less likely to be wary of me and more likely not to object to me being at his house. He's never going to let a total stranger in, so this is a way for me to not be a stranger." "How long do we have to let this man invade our privacy?" "Hard to say for certain, it depends on how quickly I can find a way in. There are no bugs in the kitchen and I should be able to find the one in your bedroom." "They bugged my bedroom?!" "Probably, I certainly would have if I was them. I'll leave any that I find in my bedroom. Unfortunately, this means were on stage 24/7 now, no breaks. The Balancer will have to stay at operational settings for now." "Matthews won't like that. He strongly suggested that you spend more time at Blue Fifty, not less." "Can't be helped. This is a break we cannot afford to miss. I checked as we drove over here. We weren't followed. Your car is probably clean but I'll check it out to make sure." "That was a nice trick, turning the radio on to that youth station and cranking up the sound." "I was watching out to make sure we weren't being followed but I turned on the radio because I like the music, it's really cool. Don't know why I didn't listen to it before." Why indeed. CHAPTER TWENTY No one talks to me like that! No one! If that little bitch thinks she can just disrespect me like that and get away with it, she doesn't know Caitlin McBride! She's not stupid though, she knew about the cameras, knew I couldn't do anything to her right then. We don't normally have to get physical. Usually, the silent treatment gets to them almost immediately. They're so desperate for someone to be their friend that they'll do anything I want. It's probably because she's got Gretchen Hobbes to talk to that prevents the shunning from working. God! That's another smart move. If she'd just picked anybody but Gretchen Hobbes! I may control St. Ann's but there's no way I'm gonna do anything that brings Hobbes' dad into the picture. People who fuck with him end up dead! I need to get Kendall and Olivia to come over here to my house tonight so we can come up with some kind of plan. I'll just text them now. * * * *** * * * *** * * * I did not get into this business to do paperwork. Every day there are more reports, more decisions, the constant need to stay alert, stay ahead of my enemies. Those crazy bastards in Mexico ... who can predict what they will do next. They are insane sometimes, probably using too much of their own product. Just this morning, I received a report about a newly discovered mass grave near Morelia. Eighty three people, twelve of which were women and two were children. Children! Whoever did this was mad! I reach out and push my intercom button. "Hector." "Yes, Mr. Hobbes?" "Contact Enrique. If he is on the grounds, I want to speak with him immediately. If he isn't, I want him back here as soon as possible." "Yes, Mr. Hobbes." I turn back to today's emails and their attachments. Shipping schedules from Columbia. Sales figures from the East Coast and California. Banking reports. Last month's statement of expenses. The money rolls in but it rolls right back out. Personnel, equipment, bribery, vehicles, ammunition, it all adds up over time. And now, thanks to those idiots in Mexico, it will be even more expensive to do business. Thankfully, the world's appetite for drugs is never ending and people will pay practically any price, particularly Americans, but there is just too much uncertainty today. There is a knock at my door. "Yes?" "It is Enrique." "Come in." My door opens just enough for him to step through, then he closes it immediately. I have always appreciated Enrique's ... economy of movement. "Enrique, do you ever find yourself longing for the days of Miguel Gallardo?" "What do you mean, X-ray?" "Back when there was just one man in charge, Gallardo. He had the world's drug market in his hand. He was the undisputed king." "Things were not so good for us back then." "No, they weren't, but at least we had order. None of these crazy idiots shooting each other over territories. You were assigned an exclusive territory, you ran it well, made lots of money, and didn't have to worry about some moron high on his own merchandise shooting a bunch of children while trying to expand his territory. There were RULES for God's sake!" "Which you broke a number of times, if I recall correctly." "But I was never caught ... and I only broke the letter, not the spirit. Besides, I knew what I was doing. These undisciplined children today create chaos simply for the joy of creating chaos. They will be the death of our business. Look at these expenses." He sits at my desk and I hand him the summary sheets and he begins to read them. "Unfortunate, but it is the cost of doing business these days." "But it shouldn't be. Besides paying for a small army to protect my assets in Columbia and Venezuela, it costs me four times as much to bribe a policeman today. Every little gang who thinks they are a cartel is offering bags of money to every cop on the street. I have to pay more just to stay competitive. It costs me as much today to buy a precinct sergeant as it did to buy a captain three years ago. I don't want to even think what the captain wants today, greedy bastards. And it's all because every hoodlum who wants to be top dog is offering more than they are worth. And what is worse are the one's who are either too stupid or cheap to bribe the police are trying to kill them. Nothing pisses off a cop like trying to kill him. Then they take it out on the rest of us, the sane, reasonable, people who are just trying to make a living in this difficult economy. Increased transportation costs, storage, bank fees, they all add up. Enrique ... it was so much easier in the old days." "I think you have an unreasonable fondness for the past." "Perhaps you are right, but I remember it as being ... less complicated." "And less profitable." "Perhaps. What progress have you made on infiltrating my unruly competitors?" "A surprising amount. Loyalties are constantly changing. Alliances between the assorted cartels seem to change almost daily. This uncertainty seems to have trickled down to the people on the ground. We have been able to recruit a number of people from each group. We haven't asked them to do much yet, just keep us informed of their group's activities." "Another expense." He shrugs. "You get what you pay for, you know that." "Sometimes, you don't even get that. Will these people stay bought?" "I believe so." "More importantly, are any of my people working for someone else?" "They know how you deal with traitors." "Let's hope they don't forget. What have you found out about my daughter's friend?" "Not much yet. I have not received any reports from the investigators, though they are supposed to get me some preliminary information in the next two days." "Make sure they stay on it. I need to know who Gretchen is spending time with." "It will be taken care of, X-ray." "See that it is, Enrique." * * * *** * * * *** * * * There's a knock at my bedroom door. "Caitlin?" "Yes, Mother." "Olivia and Kendall are here to see you." "Have them come up to my room, we have work to do." "I'll send them right up, Dear." They both dropped whatever they had planned and hustled over here when I told them we needed to meet tonight. I can hear them walk up the stairs and stop just outside my door. "Come in." I tell them. They troop in, Olivia sitting in the butterfly chair and Kendall flopping on my bed. "Okay, what do we know about Conner?" "She's smart" answered Kendall. "She can answer any question in class." "Who says?" "Anybody who's in class with her." "We know she's a scholarship girl" said Olivia, "so she's poor." "How does that help us?" "It means she should know her place." "Somehow, I don't think she does. Has anybody checked her Facebook page? That might tell us something." "I haven't." "Me neither." Christ! I have to do everything! I open the browser, hit bookmarks and click on Facebook. It opens almost instantly, we've got a very fast internet connection at home. I search for "Patricia Conner" and find about thirty five separate pages, but none of them are hers. "She doesn't have a page!" "WHAT?!" "NO!" "I know!" They don't believe it. I double check to make sure. Nothing. "What person doesn't have a Facebook page?" asks Olivia. "Someone who's completely off the planet" said Kendall. This is really too good, a gift worth its weight in gold. "We should help the poor girl out." "Are you MENTAL Caitlin? Why should we help her?" asks Kendall. Olivia looks confused for a second or two but then she smiles. "Yeeeeaaah. You're right! It's the friendly thing to do." "What's wrong with you two?!" Kendall's always been slow on the uptake. "Kendall, how many girls at school have done what we just did?" "I dun know. Thirty or forty probably." "Or more, particularly after she started wearing those uniforms to school. They got the same result we did, nothing. What if they got a really interesting Facebook page? One that we created ourselves? Full of embarrassing pictures and stuff. We don't even have to get someone to hack her page, we just make up our own and pass it off as hers." "But we don't have any embarrassing photos of her. We've made sure that none of the other girls are friends with her so nobody else is likely got any either" said Kendall. "We don't need any" replied Olivia. "We can make our own! Jerri Stevens is an absolute genius with Photoshop. We could download pictures from the web and she could add Conner's face." "What kinda pictures?" "What ever we want Kendall, drunk girls, fat girls, porn, what ever." "How long would this take?" I asked. "I don't know ... a week maybe." "Call Stevens, get her started. I've got another idea we can do quicker than that." "What's that?" "First, we need someone who has gym the same time as Conner." * * * *** * * * *** * * * I had a good day today at phys ed. Sister Rita's teaching volleyball and I dug out anything that came my way. The quickness of this body is flat insane. I just think it and I'm there. Sometimes, I'm there even before I think it. Gretchen and I were on the same team and I was able to set her up for some easy points. She started out very tentative but by the end of the period, she was spiking the ball pretty hard. She might not be half bad with some practice; it's all a matter of confidence. She's got decent coordination, reasonable body control, can jump a little ... no Dr. J, but not too bad for a girl. When I first started school, phys ed was certainly eye opening. In the same locker room with forty naked teen age girls, using the same mass shower stall, all those breasts, all those vaginas, I had to fight like mad not to stare. We should have planned for that while getting ready for this job. Gradually, it got easier to act naturally. Eventually, it wasn't an act. Despite what you might think, a girls locker room isn't a very erotic environment. It smells bad, there's mold, the fluorescent lights make everybody's skin look like heck, some of the girls are very good looking but others aren't. All in all, it falls way short of the fantasies. Besides, any time I need to look at boobs, I just drop my bra in front of a mirror. Sister Rita stopped me after class and asked me if I had an interest in maybe playing for the school's volleyball team. I told her I'd think about it. I couldn't say that I was hoping to be out of school in a few weeks. By the time I got to the locker room, practically everybody else was done showering and was dressing. I'm going to have to hurry to get done in time to make it to class. My shower only took a couple of minutes. I quickly dry off and scamper to my locker. It's empty. Someone's taken everything. All my clothes, gym clothes, the skirt, the blouse, underwear, shoes, socks ... everything. I'm surprised it took this long for it to happen. This move would have been third or forth on my list of annoying things to do to a person, right after spray paint in their locker through the vent holes and just before the chocolate Exlaz cookies. Luckily, I've got a plan. The locker room is connected to the coach's offices. The locks to those offices are ridiculously easy to pick and there's an endless supply of hairpins scattered around on the floor. I've got Sister Rita's door open in a few seconds. The office has a phone that is both part of the internal school system and gets an outside line. I can get a direct connection to Sister Carmela's office. I hope she's in. I enter her intercom code and wait. It buzzes three times before she picks up. "Yes, Sister Rita?" "Sorry to bother you Sister Carmela, this is Patricia Conner." "Miss Conner? What are you doing in Sister Rita's office?" "Right now, I'm naked, wrapped in a towel that's not big enough to do the job and starting to shiver a little bit." "What are you talking about?" "Someone stole all my clothes from my gym locker and I'm the only one left in here." "Goodness! Who would do such a thing?" "We both know the answer to that Sister Carmela." "Did you see who actually did it?" "Of course not, I was in the shower. Don't bother to question any of the girls, I'm sure they saw nothing, most of them likely made a special effort to see nothing." "I see. You're probably right. Stay there and I'll have someone bring you one of our emergency outfits." "No, Sister. That's just what they want. I've got it under control. Page Gretchen Hobbes and buzz me here when she gets there." "Are you certain?" "Yes, please hurry." I hang up the phone and leave the office, the door open. There's something I want to check before Sister Carmela calls back. I scurry to the exit door, keeping a death grip on my towel, and slowly open it just a crack, so that I can see if anyone is waiting outside. There's a group of at least five girls, cell phones ready, doing a lousy job of acting nonchalant. Someone really needs to teach a class. I hurry to the back exit and find four girls waiting, same routine. Caitlin McBride is not among them. I'd be surprised if she was. Always leave the dirty work to the underlings. The phone's already buzzed twice by the time I get back to the office. "Hello, Sister Carmela." "I have Ms. Hobbes here, as you requested." I hear her hand off the phone. "He ... he ... hello?" "Gretchen, it's Patricia. I need you to go to my school locker, open it and bring me the large clear plastic bag in the bottom. I'm in the gym locker room." "I don't know your combination." "It's twenty five, sixteen and nine, got it?" "Twenty five, sixteen and nine. What's going on?" "Bring me the bag and I'll explain later. Don't use the doors. Come round to the windows opposite the soccer field and throw it in. I'll be waiting. Put Sister Carmela back on, will ya?" I hear the hand off again. "Yes, Ms. Conner?" "There's four or five girls at both exits to the locker room, hanging around with cell phones, waiting to get pictures of me out of uniform. You've got rules about cell phones during school hours I believe." "Yes we do. I'll send someone immediately." "If you could, wait until I leave." "Isn't that what they want?" "I plan on giving them something to see, just not what they expect." "Very well, I'll wait." "Thanks." I hang up and hurry to the open windows in the back. I really am getting cold. Hopping from one foot to the other, rubbing my arms, I look around, checking out the room. Gray green paint on concrete block walls, worn wooden benches, mismatched metal lockers, the whole place looks second rate, at best. It's clear where they put their emphasis, but the athletic facilities really are an embarrassment. Right now, I could use a heater. "Patricia!" It's Gretchen! That's my girl! "Here Gretch!" She reaches up, waving her hand in the open window. "Can you see me?" "Yeah, I can. Did you find the bag?" "Right here. What is it?" "You ever see those ads on late night TV about storing your clothes in a vacuum bag to save closet space?" "Yes." "That's what it is. Hurry and toss it through the window before I freeze to death." "Okay, here it comes!" They vinyl bag flies through the half open window and I grab it with both hands, losing my towel in the process. "Thanks." "You need anything else?" "No, I'm fine. Just go back to class and act normal. I'll tell you all about it at lunch." "See you then." I hurry back to my gym locker, sit down and open the seal on the bag. Air rushes in. What seconds ago looked like squashed road kill is now a complete uniform, as altered by me, including socks and shoes. It's one of my better jobs, if I do say so myself. I figured that someday, some one would take a shot at my uniforms. "Accidentally" spill paint on them, tear them, or steal them, something. I wanted to have a spare set within reach, ready to go. Going at the gym locker was a nice touch, shows a little planning. If I came out of the locker room dressed only in a towel, they'd have some embarrassing pictures for the internet that would be devastating to the normal teen age girl. Lucky for me, I'm not the normal teen age girl. It only takes about a minute and a half to get dressed but I spend an extra few seconds in front of the mirror to get my hair just right. Don't want to disappoint my fans. When I get to the door, I push it open just a few inches and pause, letting the girls waiting on the other side get ready, then I throw it open and pose, hand on hip, smiling. They're all snapping like crazy, fast as they can, not even looking. The frenzy trails off after a couple of seconds when they realize I'm not a semi-naked, wet headed, cowering girl. I walk slowly past them, still smiling. I'm half way down the hall by the time two teachers start to confiscate the cell phones. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE "SHE WAS WEARING WHAT?!" "A regular uniform ... well not a regular uniform, it was one of her tailored uniforms. Here, see for yourself." Olivia handed me her cell phone. She was right. Conner was just standing there, smiling, as if she was waiting to have her picture taken. "So what went wrong?" "Nothing went wrong! Allie and Becky cleaned out her locker, they gave it all to me. I checked, it was all there!" "So where'd she get this?" I hold the phone so Olivia can see the picture. Kendall leans in to also get a look. "I don't know, Caitlin! I had all her stuff and she didn't borrow it from somebody else because it's not a standard uniform." "I like what she's done with her blouse" said Kendall. "What?" "Her blouse, I like what she did with the collar." She takes the phone from my hand and points at the picture. "See what she did with the collar. The top is more open but it lays flat. I wish I could get mine to do that." "Kendall?" "Yes, Caitlin?" I take the phone back and toss it to Olivia. "Shut up!" Just then, Conner and Hobbes walk into the cafeteria, like they own the place. Some of the girls are smiling at them. There are a few who actually waved at them! What the hell happened to my shunning order?! "Where the fuck did she get that uniform?!" "I said I don't know, Caitlin! Get off my back, will ya. Everybody did exactly what they where supposed to do." "Then somebody warned her, told her the plan." "WHO would do that? WHY would they do it?" "I don't know, but that's the only explanation." "Only five girls knew what was supposed to happen." "What about the ones taking pictures?" "They were just told to wait until she came out of the locker room. Everybody except Allie had their cell phones confiscated and she only kept hers because she passed it off to Tammy as she walked by. That's how I got the one picture." "So ... who warned Connor, Olivia?" "No one warned her. These girls are our friends, they wouldn't do that." Hobbes and Connor are sitting by themselves, as usual, but other girls are walking by, smiling and saying stuff. Connor's really enjoying it, I can tell. "Fine, nobody said anything, Connor's some kinda magician who can make clothes appear out of thin air. When is that Facebook page gonna be done, Kendall?" "Jerri said it might be a week or two." "Tell her it needs to be done by the end of this week. I want it up and running Monday. I want to wipe that smile off her face ... permanently! * * * *** * * * *** * * * Mom's not handling it very well. It's not easy for me but I've been through it before, Mom's never been under constant surveillance before. The first few days she tried to put up a brave front, using all the rooms in the house but since I debugged her bedroom, she spends practically all her non-working time there or the kitchen. It's only natural to hide out where you feel safe but it looks odd to someone on the outside, which we can't afford. About the only time I can get her out of her bedroom in the evening is to watch TV or play a DVD. Either way, she doesn't have much to say. She didn't eat a lot tonight, claimed to have an upset stomach. She probably did, nerves will do that to you. Once the dishes were done, she went straight to her room. We can't go on like this much longer. I knock on her bedroom door. "Mom?" "Yes?" "Do you feel up for a movie this evening?" "I don't know Honey ... I'm really not feeling well." "I rented 'The King's Speech'. You know how much you like Colin Firth." "I appreciate all your effort but ..." "I can put real butter on the popcorn." "It sounds tempting Patricia but ..." "It's important, Mom." "I know." She doesn't say anything more, but I hear the door knob turn and the door opens with a long squeak. Standing in the doorway, I can see her sunken eyes and pale look. I don't think she's been getting a lot of sleep. I hold out my hand and she takes it and I slowly lead her out of her bedroom into the hallway, towards the living room. She resists just a little bit but I keep moving and she reluctantly follows me to the couch. She sits and I start the movie, the volume just a little louder than normal. I hurry to the kitchen and finish the popcorn. I don't want to leave her alone for long. When I get back, she gives me a thin smile and pats the couch next to her. I sit down, tucking my legs under me and leaning against her. She puts her arm around my shoulder. "I'm sorry" she whispers. "You're doing fine" I whisper back. She takes a bite of popcorn. "No, I'm not. I shouldn't let it get to me ... but it does. I can't get a decent night's sleep even though I know my bedroom's clean. How do you do it?" "Practice. It gets to me too sometimes." "Huh, I haven't seen it." "You should check our ice cream supply; it's down at least a gallon." That gets a chuckle out of her. "You want something to drink, Mom?" I say loudly. She winces, then sighs deeply. "No thank you, Patricia." "Not even a beer?" "No, nothing." "Okay." She lays her head against my shoulder and is soon asleep, quietly breathing. I reach over and move the hair out of her eyes. She needs this to end as soon as possible. I may have to push the schedule ahead. * * * *** * * * *** * * * There's four knocks on the van door before it opens. That's our code so nobody freaks. "Hey Mitch." "'Sup Johnny?" "I got your sandwich and coffee. They were out of regular chips so I bought the rippled ones." He hands me the carryout bag, then sits in the second seat. "What's happening?" "They're watching 'The King's Speech'." "Damn! A chick flick! That's the fifth one this week!" "I know, I've had to listen to each one. I don't know how the kid gets the grades she does, I've never heard her do homework." Johnny takes his sandwich from the bag, unwraps it and takes a big bite. He chews a few seconds, then swallows. He's gonna choke one of these days and I'm not gonna do shit about it when he does, I've warned him about gulping his food enough already. "She does her homework in the kitchen while she fixes supper. Don't you remember the day we placed the bugs?" "Yeah, I remember, that's why we couldn't get that room. Did Louie ever figure out why we lost the mom's bedroom?" "Nah, there's only the two of them so were not missing anything. Did you hear the kid last night? I just about pissed myself when she screamed. What could scare a girl that badly?" "Hell, she has bad dreams most nights. Not our problem. Have you been able to find out anything we don't already know?" "Not really, she just seems to be a typical teen age girl for the most part. A very good student but doesn't seem to have any friends." "No friends doesn't sound typical." "The real smart ones usually don't have many friends, they're too busy with school stuff." "How do you know that, Johnny?" "My sister, she was top in her class." I've met her; Johnny's sister ain't exactly a looker. Our girl is a hot babe yet we haven't seen any boyfriends ... or girlfriends. Mom doesn't seem to be doing anything to keep her daughter from dating boys but isn't encouraging it either. Maybe it's related to her nightmares. Either way, I don't think that's what Ray Hobbes is worried about. "Johnny, you think this kid is anything out of the ordinary?" "Other than being smart as hell? No." "How about her mother?" "She seems to be your average single mother, more or less. Been sick lately but the stomach flu's been going around." "So, nothing suspicious about either of them?" "Nothing I've seen or heard." "I agree ... let's go home. Wanda's been bitching about these late hours." "Late hours pays the bills, Mitch." "When you get married Johnny, you'll find out what real life's like." * * * *** * * * *** * * * Science has yet to describe how fast news spreads through an all girls school ... and rumors spread twice as fast as news because truth is never as juicy as rumors. This time though, truth won out. It was less than thirty six hours after Caitlin McBride pulled that stunt on Patty in the locker room and the entire school knew the story. Not the whole story, only me and Patty know how she got the replacement uniform. Not even Sister Carmela knows the whole complete story. Now, when we walk down the halls, some of the other girls actually smile at us. A few give us the "thumbs up" sign, though they don't make a big deal of it. McBride still runs St. Ann's and she's got spies everywhere. If anybody is caught actually being nice to us, they'll have to deal with her, or her goon squad. Patty doesn't seem to care, but she's keeping track of who does and says what, I can tell. We're sitting by ourselves at lunch, as usual. At least thirty different girls have casually walked by and whispered encouraging words. Short, simple stuff like "way to go", or "keep it up", or "kick her ass". There's also been a lot of girls glancing our way and then talking among themselves, usually huddled around cell phones or laptop computers. The groups then break out in giggles or laughter. I'm beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling about the whole situation but Patty just keeps eating her brown bag lunch. I've offered to buy her lunch or share mine but she says the only way to know exactly what you're eating is to fix it yourself, which seems a little paranoid. She's just finishing her tuna fish sandwich when I see MClairuff headed our way, McBride in front carrying a laptop, a big grin on her face. This really can't be good. She walks right up to our table and sits down, doesn't ask if she can or anything. Sinclair and Woodruff stand behind her, one on her left, the other on the right. "Connor" she says. "I've been enjoying your Facebook page." Patty carefully picks up her trash and puts it in her empty lunch bag, rolling it down from the top and crushing it into a ball, which she drops on my lunch tray. "I don't have a Facebook page. It's mostly used by people who want to project an idealized version of themselves and their lives. Either that or businesses trying to sell you something. I don't care about either one." McBride's still smiling. "Are you sure? It's a reaaallly interesting page." "There have to be a lot of Patricia Connor's out there, maybe it's someone else." "There's thirty five Patricia Connor's but I'm sure this is you ... have a look." McBride flips up the screen and turns it toward us. It's a picture of a girl who looks a lot like Patty but she's not wearing a blouse, just a bra and shorts and holding a beer bottle in her right hand. She looks drunk. "You know that's not me" said Patty. "I don't know anything" said McBride. "She sure looks like you and there are lots more, even better ones." She pushes a key on the keyboard and other pictures start to display ... terrible, horrible pictures. In some, the girl is practically naked, others she's kissing boys. Some of the pictures show her kissing girls. I want to get a better look at those pictures but they're gone too fast, replaced by others. In one, she's down on her hands and knees and a big dog is behind her, paws on her back. All the pictures are of a girl who kinda looks like Patty but they're gone too fast to get a good look. I'd say that, while they all sorta look like her, they don't all look alike. Patty is staring at the screen, a mixture of shock and anger on her face. McBride reaches down and clicks on the Wall button on the Facebook page. It loads in seconds. It's full of hurtful, terrible, nasty, vicious comments. Some are actually obscene. Girls can be really horrible to one another, particularly when they can do it anonymously. Some of the stuff actually makes me sick to my stomach. Patty just sits there, reading it all, while McBride points to particularly obnoxious ones, gloating all the time. Patty finally says something. "No one who knows me will believe this is mine." "Maybe yes, maybe no, but who here at school knows you? I've made sure you don't have any friends. People believe what I tell them to believe. Once this spreads, you'll never stop it!" Suddenly, Patty smiles. "That's a very good point Caitlin" she said, then she quickly climbed up onto the top of the lunch table, stood up as tall as she could, put two fingers into her mouth and whistled. It was so loud, I had to put my hands over my ears. McBride and the other two ducked their heads, scrunching up their faces. Patty whistled for like thirty seconds, the sound, filling the lunch room, bouncing of the walls and windows. When she finally stopped, every face in the room was turned towards hers and it was dead silent. She smiled brightly at everyone. "Hi!" she shouted. "I'm Patricia Conner. I'm sorry I don't know many of you, but we all know why that's happened. My good friend Caitlin McBride just showed me a Facebook page that she thought was mine. How many of you have seen that page?" She raised her hand high above her head. "A show of hands. How many have seen the page?" Nothing happens right away. There are several teachers in the room but they aren't doing anything to stop Patty, they just look confused. A few hands start to slowly creep up. "Oh come on! I've seen the phones and laptops! Who's seen the Facebook page?" I raise my hand and wave it slightly. More hands start to go up, the numbers increasing quickly. In seconds, all hands are high in the air. "Alright! Good, great! Glad to see it! I haven't had much time to check it out but there are a lot of interesting pictures there. Apparently, I'm a big dog lover." Laughter and giggles flow through the room. She shrugged her shoulders. "Who knew?" More girls laughed. "I sure hope Sister Carmela doesn't see it." Even more laughter. "Let's keep this just between ourselves, okay?" Bigger laughs as Patty starts to walk around on the table. I glance at McBride, she looks completely confused. Patty waves her hands to quiet the girls. "I bet that something like this might get a girl expelled or even worse ... like grounded." Gales of laughter. I don't know whether it's the jokes or the totally weird appearance of this short girl standing on a plastic table talking to the entire school in the middle of lunch, but Patricia has the crowd hanging on every word. * * * *** * * * *** * * * My intercom buzzed as I was preparing to leave my office to walk down to the cafeteria for lunch. I prefer to get there ahead of the students so that they are all aware of my presence; it tends to keep the disruptive behavior to a minimum. "Yes?" "Sister Carmela! I need to see you immediately!" "What is the problem, Sister Rita?" "It's about Patricia Connor!" It may have been a mistake to admit that girl. "What about her?" "I must show you, it's terrible, just terrible!" "Well, hurry up, I'll meet you in my office." I have barely sat back down in my seat before Rita bursts through my door, and, without another word, picks up my wireless keyboard, launches the Mozilla Firefox browser and opens a Facebook page. "Look at this!" she exclaims. We routinely monitor Facebook and other social media to try to keep ahead of the ever changing world of teenagers, but I have never seen such a vile personal page before. "How did you find this?" "Mary Wiltz told me about it. McBride had her troops out, spreading the word starting this morning. Naturally, something like this has spread like wildfire." "Surely Patricia didn't ..." "Of course not! It's a complete fraud! I've been looking at a number of pictures. Some of the girls have a passing resemblance to Connor, others are Photoshoped, the quality of work varies from quite good to average. McBride or some of her followers have spent a lot of time on this." I continue to review the site. "How is it that we can see this? Shouldn't we need to be 'friended' first?" "I used Wiltz's sign in, with her permission of course. Someone is monitoring the site and accepting any friend request that comes in. They want maximum distribution." Rita leans down and looks over my shoulder. "That poor, poor girl! I can't imagine what it would be like to be so publicly humiliated. And we can't do a thing about it." I reach out, pick up my phone and buzz Jensen. "Ms. Jensen, I need to speak with Senator Douglass's office immediately." I place my hand over the mouthpiece. "It's time to call in a favor or two." * * * *** * * * *** * * * "And what about that one of me with that really old dude? Clearly, someone's got Daddy issues." She's been at it for over five minutes. Some of the girls can barely sit up straight from laughing so hard. All the time, she's been making fun of herself, as if it was actually her Facebook page, though she's never actually said it is. I don't know what she's up to. She waves the crowd quiet again, though some of them keep laughing. "Though, when you take a closer look at that particular photo, the girl doesn't have a tramp stamp ... but I do." She turns around and pulls down her skirt and lifts her blouse just enough to show her tattoo. Half of the girls laugh and the other half gasp in disbelief. She came within inches of mooning the entire school! Patty quickly pulls her skirt back up, tucks in her blouse and then turns around towards the girls, smiling sheepishly. "So, I guess that one isn't a picture of me. And the animal lover, she's got a tattoo on the back of her hand ... and I don't." She holds up both hands so that everyone can see them. Several girls start to look at their phones or laptops. "Also, there's a whole group of pictures where the girl does have a tramp stamp but it's different from mine, so those are out. But, really, how stupid do you have to be to put pictures like those on the public area of your page. You're either the dumbest person on the face of the earth or you've got a death wish, am I right?" A lot of girls smile and nod while others applaud. "So, I guess the question is ... am I the dumbest person on the face of the earth? How about a show of hands. Who here thinks I'm stupid enough to post a whole bunch of faked photos to a Facebook page in my name and subject myself to the ridicule of the entire school?" The laughter's stopped. Patty isn't smiling anymore. Girls are looking back and forth at each other, whispering. The girls who share classes with us seem to be arguing with the girls around them. I occasionally hear the word 'genius' above the buzz. A few of McBride's hardcore supporters raise their hands. I look over at Sinclair and Woodruff, both of their hands are raised, McBride's isn't. Patty turns and slowly squats down so that she's nose to nose with Woodruff. "Do you REALLY think I'm that stupid ... Kendall?" she quietly hisses. I can feel the anger radiating off Patricia, the look in her eyes is frightening. I'd always heard people say if looks could kill. Now I know what they meant. Woodruff tries to match the intensity but Patty stares her down, Woodruff's hand slowly dropping to her side. Patty swivels her head to the left, fixing her eyes on Sinclair, who immediately drops her hand. Patty stands up again, turning to face the crowd. No hands are raised. "Well, I'm glad we got that settled. I'd like to thank my good friend Caitlin McBride for bringing this ... situation to my attention. Anyone who wants to see those pictures better look at them soon, because they'll be gone very quickly." "I have already taken care of that, Ms. Conner." All eyes turn towards the cafeteria door. It's Sister Carmela, Sister Rita right behind her. They both step into the lunch room. "I have spoken with the management of Facebook and they are removing the page even as we speak." Many girls turn to their computers or phones. From the looks on their faces, it would seem that Sister Carmela is right. Patty jumps down to the floor, hands at her side to keep her skirt from flying up. "Thank you, Sister Carmela. Your office?" "If you don't mind, Ms. Conner." "Not at all, Sister." Patty starts for the door. I stand up to follow her but she stops and looks back at me. "I'll be fine. You go on to class. I'll be there soon ... I hope." She marches to the door, nods her head towards the nuns as she passes them and walks out, the Sister's falling in step behind her. * * * *** * * * *** * * * Sister Carmela asked me to wait outside for just a few minutes, she wanted to talk with Sister Rita first. The lunch break is over and the hallway outside the office is full of girls heading to class. A lot of them are looking in the windows as they walk by. I try to keep a smile on my face but it's hard. I'm still angry about what McBride tried to do to me. It's really just a matter of luck that I was able to stop her so quickly. If she hadn't said something to me at lunch, it would have been too late. She wanted to embarrass me in front of the entire school, which thankfully gave me an audience to make my case to. I don't know how Sister Carmela was able to spike the web page so fast but that helped a lot. Unfortunately, nothing ever completely disappears on the web, but you'd have to work pretty hard to find those pictures again. I don't look forward to doing it. The outer office has several stacks of phonebooks against one wall, there must be fifty there. "Why all the phonebooks, Ms. Jensen?" "They always deliver three times as many as we need. Sister Carmela has me keep the extras until she gets tired of seeing them and then I throw them out. Do you want one?" Sister Rita opens the door and signals for me to come in. "I'll let you know, Ms. Jensen" I reply. When I get into the office, Sister Rita has me sit down, then she walks around the desk and stands behind Sister Carmela. We all stare at each other for a few seconds. "I don't know where to start, Ms. Connor" said Sister Carmela. "Me neither, Sister. How did you get the plug pulled on that web page so fast?" "Your benefactor, Senator Douglas, is a member of the Senate committee that has oversight on the FCC which includes ..." I nod my head, "telecommunications, which means the web, which means Facebook." "Exactly. I contacted his office, which put me in touch with Facebook's management, who were very happy to grant my request after they reviewed the content and Senator Douglas's staff suggested to them that it would be the responsible thing to do." "Thanks, you certainly saved my bacon." "You're welcome, Ms. Connor. Can you explain why you thought it necessary to turn St. Ann's lunch hour into a public meeting?" "I didn't have any choice. Once the genie is out of the bottle, it's practically impossible to stuff her back in." "Why didn't you just contact me, we could have dealt with it." "There wasn't any time. Almost everybody had already seen it. Once the girls left the building, I was dead. I had to take advantage of the lunch hour and strike fast. I understand you may have to give me some demerits or detention, but it was the only way." "I didn't see your entire performance, but I understand that you did an admirable job of persuading the other students that it was a fake web page. As for demerits, Sister Rita and I will need to discuss it. My question is ... what happens next?" "Frankly Sister, I'm tired of messing with Caitlin. If she threatens me with some kind of physical attack, I'm going to force her hand, bring it to a head." "There is no way I can sanction some kind of brawl Ms. Conner, you know that." "With any luck, nothing will actually happen, but I need you and the staff to not be around when the confrontation occurs. The other girls have to choose sides and I can't have your people influencing that choice. I want McBride out of business for good." "As do I, but there can be no fighting. If girls get hurt, there will be no end of the complaints by the parents and they will be well within their rights to do so. My primary responsibility is the safety of my girls." "What if I guarantee that no one will be hurt? I know what I'm doing. It shouldn't be too hard to disable any fighters without hurting them." Much. "That is unacceptable. St. Ann's will never tolerate its students fighting. I can agree to give you some space, at least initially, but Sister Rita will be keeping a close watch on the situation and she will be authorized to take appropriate action against anybody involved in fighting, no exceptions." "You can't really expect me to get rid of McBride without at least the legitimate threat of kicking her behind, do you?" "You know my terms, Ms. Connor." "Yes, Sister Carmela. Could you do me a favor?" "Which would be?" "I'd like to have copies of the fake pictures from that Facebook page. Can you ask your contact to make copies before deleting them?" "I can ask but it may be too late. Why would you want copies? I saw most of them and, if it was me, I'd want them to disappear forever." "I'd like to try and find out where they all came from." "Why does it matter?" "It may not, but I'd like to know." "I'll do what I can, Ms. Connor." I stand up. "Thanks. I'll let you know how things go with McBride." "Remember ... no fighting." Walking through the door, I look back. "I remember" I say, then close the door. Ms. Jensen is working at her desk. There are still at least ten girls loitering outside the office widow. Everybody loves to rubberneck at a car wreck. Guess they were hoping for another show. A show ... a show. No ... a demonstration. That's exactly what I need right now. "Ms. Jensen, could I have one of those phonebooks?" "Certainly, take as many as you want. The fewer I have to get rid of later." I take one book from the top of the pile. It's a standard business yellow pages, or what used to be called yellow pages. Now it's the Yellow Book or some such thing. I squeeze and flex it. Soft paperback binding, about two and a half inches thick. I used to do this in bars all the time as a bet for drinks. It should still be possible even though my hands are smaller. With the spine of the book on my left, I firmly grip the book with my right hand, then grip it with my left and bend the book in half. I reposition my right and left hands so that the cover is taut, the next few pages are also taut but the rest of the pages are pinched between my hands in a bulge. I take a couple of short breaths and try to tear the cover by flexing it and tearing in opposite directions with my hands, pushing down and away with the right while pulling up and towards me with the left. If I can tear the cover and the next couple of pages, I'll be able to tear the entire book in half, a few pages at a time. You don't have to be a muscleman to tear a phonebook in half, you just need to be of at least average strength and know the right technique. Most people don't know that. I re-grip the book and try again. Several of the girls are blatantly staring at me through the window. Good. This was easier when I was a man. Just as I'm about to change my grip again, the cover rips with a pop, the next group of pages right behind it. Shifting my grip, the next set of pages grow taut and split. "What are you doing?!" "Recycling, Ms. Jensen." In less than a minute, the entire book is in two pieces, well, actually one big piece and eight hundred little pieces. I walk out of the office and drop the remains of the phonebook in a trash can by the bathroom. I don't get more than ten feet away before two girls go digging in the can to recover them. McBride should get the news by the end of this class period. * * * *** * * * *** * * * A complete and total waste of time! It took over two weeks to get that page ready and it was deleted in less than four hours! Four God damn hours! "My good friend, Caitlin McBride." Connor is dead! That Bitch has fucked with me for the last time! This stupid Spanish class can't end soon enough. When I get to Study Hall, I'm going to have Kendall get all the girls together and we'll pay a little visit to Connor. What were she and Olivia thinking? Putting their hands down in front of the entire school. Are they quitting on me? If they haven't got the guts to do what's necessary, I may need to find somebody else who does. * * * *** * * * *** * * * By the time I got to Study Hall, Caitlin and Kendall were quietly arguing in the back of the room. Naturally, every girl there was trying to listen in. I didn't really care anymore. "I'm sorry, but she's scary!" "Scary?! She's a midget!" "Hey! She wasn't in your face Caitlin. You can talk after it happens to you. Honest to God, I thought she was going to ..." "Going to what?" "I don't know! But it wasn't going to be fun!" Sometimes Caitlin gets sooo hyper. Kendall's not helping. "Calm down you two" I tell them. "Shut up Olivia. You weren't much help either." "Face it Caitlin, she beat us. She proved the photos were faked. We didn't bother looking for mismatched tattoos. Once she showed everyone they weren't photos of her, we'd lost. I told you that we should wait, give it a day or two for the dirt to spread but no, you had to get up in her face today, had to have your little confrontation. Well, she took that confrontation and made you eat it ... in front of the whole school." "I didn't eat anything! It was a stupid idea from the start." "You didn't think so last week. Last week it was brilliant." "Well ... Stevens screwed it up, she should have taken care of the tattoos." "She didn't have time, you told her to get it done for today. Besides, it's one thing to find embarrassing pictures of girls who look like Connor or adding her head to a picture. Finding all that and matching or removing tattoos is impossible. The only way it was going to work was if nobody looked too closely at each and every picture. What gets me was that Connor saw the pictures for the first time at lunch and she caught the problems almost instantly." "Obviously, she knew they were fake" said Kendall. "Yeah, but she knew exactly how to prove they were fake. Not only