A Bikini Beach Summer, Parts 17-19 free porn video

A Bikini Beach Summer by Daphne Xu Part 17 Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him. Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected. Sunday, July 20 (cont.) The Conference Grandmother emerged from a side door as we followed Anya to a conference room. She glanced at Ruth-- --and jerked to a stop, almost stumbling forward. "By all the powers, we've royally fucked up!" I gasped in surprise at the language. Ruth gasped. Anya spun around and gasped. Ma and Pa both gasped. Mrs. Winstead gasped. It sounded as if everyone within hearing range gasped. Mr. Matsumoto remained silent with a distinct, satisfied, smug grin. Still shocked at Grandmother's language, we silently followed Anya into the conference room. Grandmother was the last to enter, and she said, "Please, have a seat." We all sat on two sides of a medium-sized table. Ruth sat next to me, with Ma on her other side. "Oh, I remember now," said Ma. "Somewhat, at least. I'm so very sorry, Mrs. Winstead -- for everything. I'd just completely forgotten." Ruth replied, "Luke called it poetic justice, Ma -- being caught up yourself in Bikini Beach's reality-shift of me." Pa spoke next, mumbling, "This is really embarrassing." I looked over at him, and caught him turning his face down away from me. "I take it you remember that `very pretty young teenage girl' so much more now, eh Pa?" "You're really never going to let me forget that phrase, are you, Luke." Pa, my Pa, was blushing as fiercely as I ever did. "No, Pa, I'm not," I agreed with a smile. "Heck, even in a plain ordinary swimsuit, you outdid every swimsuit- clad beauty contestant I'd ever seen." "You do look very pretty as a girl, Luke," added Mr. Matsumoto. "Back in Japan, men viewed your type as just short of alien." Talk about embarrassing! And when did he ever actually see me as Lucy, anyway? "We have serious issues to discuss," Grandmother said, "if everyone's now accustomed to the memories of Luke and Lucy--" "Just a moment here, Ma'am," said Pa. "If these memories are correct, I've been remembering an unpleasant confrontation with Luke a few days ago which never happened; he was Lucy at the time." Pa sounded angry. "Yes," I agreed. "That standoff with me in a girl's swimsuit was fabricated out of whole cloth, as soon as I became Luke again that night. Why did Bikini Beach do that to us? With everything else that happened, one might think that, um," I hesitated, not wanting to outright accuse anyone. "Bikini Beach had it in for our entire family." I stammered on that last sentence; it was hard to force out. "To be fair, Luke," said Mr. Matsumoto, "If Bikini Beach really had it in for you, you wouldn't stand a chance. I think it was merely an unintended consequence. I don't know what happened, of course." "I can't explain fully what happened," Anya said. "But I detected your fear of going home in a bikini, and set the spell to have you keep the swimsuit when reverting -- and have you bring it with you to Bikini Beach on your later visits." Oh oh! Did Anya just tell us in front of Pa that I'd worn a bikini here? I only vaguely heard the rest of Anya's explanation -- and didn't follow it -- worrying about Pa knowing about me and bikinis. Being out in public in a bikini was mortifying enough. Pa and Ma knowing about it was all the worse -- and Ma knew all along! I only got back into the conversation when Grandmother spoke. "I agree. I apologize to both of you, Luke and Mr. Cuttington." Grandmother paused and then continued. "I think we must continue on with Ruth and Peter; those memories are considerably darker and more depressing." Ruth began screaming in terror, or even pain. I turned to her, and she clambered across the chair arms onto my lap and wrapped her arms around me, and continued crying and screaming into my chest, while I patted her back. "What have you done with Ruth?!" exclaimed Ma, as she got up and tried to take Ruth in her arms. Ruth clung to me all the harder, as Grandmother answered, "Ruth's nine- year-old girl mind remembers anew the horrifying interrogation experienced by seventeen-year-old Peter in jail." She tapped Ma on the shoulder. "Mrs. Cuttington, there's a reason Ruth is clinging to Luke for comfort, and not you. Let her be." "Ma," I said, "You didn't give a damn about her horrifying experiences before." I tried to hold back my tears. I wasn't concerned about punishment or retaliation for cursing this time. In fact, I was itching for a fight; any attempt to punish me would result in a real version of the confrontation Bikini Beach had fabricated Thursday night. Ma collapsed back into her chair, looking as if she'd just been slugged. I felt bad for Ma, even as I held Ruth hard, shielding Ruth from her. "Oh, how I wish we'd never wiped her memories. At least when she became Ruth originally, she was accustomed to those memories." And Grandmother herself burst into tears. "Grandmother!" exclaimed Anya, helping her down into the nearest seat. Ruth calmed down suddenly, but still kept her face buried in my chest. "I dulled the memories of the police interrogation, and pushed them into the background," Anya continued. "She will be able to continue her daily life without being haunted by those memories, and when she does think about them, it will be as through a mist, from a distance." "I remember Peter now." said Mr. Matsumoto. "Peter was my daughter's favorite babysitter -- almost her only babysitter; she always requested him whenever we went out. Of course, once he was charged with rape and murder, we couldn't have him babysitting our daughter." "That would have violated my bail terms, anyway," Ruth interrupted, speaking weakly. "And with the enraged mood I was in, I would have had no business babysitting Daisy even after I was fully cleared and freed." Her voice gradually strengthened. "But we trusted him enough to recommend a top criminal defense lawyer to defend him," continued Mr. Matsumoto. The first things the lawyer did were to move for Peter's release on bail, and simultaneously move for DNA testing, indicating his confidence in Peter's innocence. Sure enough, the DNA was a complete mismatch with the murderer's. The lawyer moved for dismissal of the charges based on the DNA results. While the prosecutor insisted on redoing the DNA testing, at least he put it at top priority, and when he got the same results, he concurred in the motion. "Both the defense lawyer and I were crafting a motion for a special prosecutor to investigate Peter's interrogation, and preparing litigation against the police department for their conduct, when Mrs. Cuttington took Peter and Luke to Bikini Beach." Mrs. Winstead said, "Everyone, I most sincerely hope that we haven't forgotten the Denison girl who was raped and murdered." Ruth came alive, spinning around on my lap, glaring at Mrs. Winstead. "Grandmother? Anya? Someone? Please knock some sense into that woman's thick skull. Without mind control, if possible, please." She pressed back against me, and held my arms firmly around her waist. "Ma'am," said Grandmother, recovering her composure, her tone turning from sadness to anger. "You have been provided with information sufficient to establish that Peter never killed or raped Jill Denison. If you can't be persuaded, and you don't limit your participation to constructive discussion, well..." Grandmother trailed off. "You don't want to provoke a powerful magic user, Mrs. Winstead," said Ruth. I added, "I've heard quite a bit from my friends here about Grandmother, although I never met her until now. She apparently founded Bikini Beach herself, with all its magical properties." "Mrs. Winstead," said Mr. Matsumoto, "if what we said earlier didn't get through, perhaps this might: the night before Erin took Peter and Luke to Bikini Beach, the arrest of the actual killer was announced, based on DNA matching." "I saw the news report on TV," said Pa. "I told Erin, and she said, `Thanks for the information.' It didn't sound quite welcome, or that she made anything of it." "It wouldn't have made any difference to Ma, always thinking the worst of me even after I was cleared of the murder." "Ruth!" said Ma. "How can you say such a thing about your own Ma!?" "Thinking that I was still Jill Denison's murderer -- after being exonerated by the prosecutor and the judge, and incredibly, after being told that the murderer was arrested," answered Ruth. "Need I go further? Once Ma gets stuck on an idea, she won't change her mind, regardless of the evidence. Okay, maybe you didn't know anything about DNA. Maybe we can blame the insidious influence of your Firmlove group." "Firmlove is hardly insidious," replied Ma indignantly, having apparently recovered her composure. "We've turned around numerous bad cases, by refusing to enable their misbehavior and make excuses for them. A teenage drug dealer who is jailed for a while has more inclination to reform than one who is immediately bailed out, and gotten off by a smart defense attorney. A teenage girl caught up in Wicca, witchcraft, or paganism must be firmly addressed before she ruins her life." Mrs. Winstead nodded. That didn't sound quite right. Wasn't it witchcraft at Bikini Beach that changed us, and made us forget? Weren't we among witches even now -- or the equivalent at least? "One could just as well say that about being caught up in Christian Science," replied Ruth. "Oh, come on," said Ma. "You know that's completely different." I noticed Mrs. Winstead looking at Ma out the corner of her eye; she might not have agreed with Ma. "Or being caught up in modern high-energy physics," continued Ruth. "Especially as some of your Firmlovers confuse modern physics with paganism." Mrs. Winstead's glance shifted to Ruth. "For that matter, one could say that about NOT being caught up in one's own particular cult. After all, if one took seriously the notion of eternally burning in the Fires of Hell, one would want to Save whoever one could. "Anyways," she said. "That derailed what I was going to say. I really hope that anyone who knew about the arrest and also knew about Ma taking me to Bikini Beach to be changed would rush in to stop the process." Ruth looked pointedly at Mrs. Winstead. "Young lady, you aren't insinuating anything, I hope," Mrs. Winstead said. "I thought someone would sarcastically ask what that arrest had to do with my guilt in the murder, Mrs. Winstead. I already made the insinuation about Ma. You are the only other person to know that Ma was taking me to Bikini Beach to change me into nine-year-old Ruth. I hope you were simply unaware of the arrest of Jill's murderer. But you already seem to have failed the test: if my arrest meant that I was the murderer, they wouldn't have arrested anyone else." "Isn't that obvious?" I added. "I just don't know what you're talking about," said Mrs. Winstead. "Everyone, my request for someone to knock sense into her thick skull still stands," said Ruth. "Erin," said Mr. Matsumoto, "That Dan informed you of the arrest, and you still continued with Peter's punishment is manifest gross negligence -- criminal negligence even -- resulting in liability if we ever get to litigation in Peter's transformation to Ruth. But I sincerely believe," he looked around at everyone, including Grandmother, "that litigation won't be necessary. I trust this conference will lead to mitigating or undoing the damage." "Mr. Matsumoto," said Ruth. "I didn't know about the arrest due to the DNA testing. When I became Ruth, the reality-shift probably wiped out the DNA testing and the resulting arrest -- the crime was literally unsolved. Later, as Ruth, I tried to get you -- as the only lawyer I knew -- to get DNA testing on the current suspect, who's still in jail. What happened?" "I did contact the defense attorney and the prosecution both. I didn't have any sway over the prosecutor, but I did manage to persuade the defense attorney to move for DNA testing. I had no news since then, and of course with Ruth's membership upgrade, I forgot. I assume that my request and any motions made as a result thereof, any testing commenced in consequence of my request, were wiped out as well. Would that be correct, Grandmother?" He looked pointedly at her. "Unfortunately, you and Ruth are most likely correct, both ways," said Grandmother. "But at least I can do something there. I have contacts in the police department who knows about Bikini Beach and its transformations." She grabbed a telephone and dialed. She spoke several times, apparently attempting to reach her contact. Shortly, Grandmother turned on speakers, letting us all hear the conversation. "Chief, I'm calling about the Jill Denison murder case." "Ma'am, we've wrapped up the case, and it's out of our hands now. We've transferred it for prosecution." "Did you compare the DNA of the suspect and the crime scene?" asked Grandmother. "No, we found that unnecessary. We have a detailed, signed confession to the murder, from the defendant." Ruth came alive again. "That confession was false! They made him confess!" Grandmother said, "The speaker is a Bikini Beach member. Before her change and resulting reality-shift, he was the murder suspect. He was innocent, and his confession was procured through police misconduct." Ruth said, "They terrorized me, threatened me, kept me perpetually awake, kept pushing me to confess, lying about evidence against me, so much else." The voice on the phone said, "That young lady -- she sounds like a child, by the way. She needs a lesson in logic. Just because she or he may have been forced to confess falsely doesn't mean our defendant was." Ruth said, "Bikini Beach may have wiped me as Peter out of existence. It didn't wipe out those cops I faced. It didn't wipe out their decision to find a suspect to take into their back rooms, to work him over and make him confess. If they'd do that to an upper-middle-class white teenager, imagine what they'd do to a young black man." Grandmother said, "You really must do the DNA testing. If your defendant turns out to be innocent despite his confession, I will be highly upset. Make sure I'm upset with someone else." "I see your point, Ma'am." "Thank you, Chief." Grandmother hung up, and turned back to us. "I could visit the suspect this afternoon at the jail, and determine his innocence or guilt. In fact, I'll do just that. And if he is innocent, I can ensure that he is promptly released, and act against the miscreants who extracted his confession -- or Peter's confession." "Grandmother?" I said, nervous about talking to and getting her attention. "I am really concerned about the suspect. I envision him minding his own business, doing his own thing, Saturday morning when Ma took Peter and me to Bikini Beach. When Peter becomes Ruth, the new suspect is suddenly in jail for Jill's murder. He suddenly remembers being in jail since the murder, being questioned about the murder, undergoing the HELL of Peter's interrogation, and confessing to the murder. The world around shifts to him being the suspect. Would this be correct?" Grandmother turned to me, and I could see behind her distressed visage a hint of her reputed sternness and authority, but also of grandmotherly kindness as well. "Issues of time and timing are involved, but for the most part, I am very sorry to say that that is one way of seeing it, young Luke. I don't wish to sound as if I were making excuses, but Anya and I were on vacation. We'd left the park in the hands of a junior mage for a week. I would have caught the miscarriage of justice, and I'm sure Anya would have too. I know it's no excuse, and for the life of me, I regret it all." "I'm not as confident as Grandmother about my detecting the miscarriage, since I didn't catch it the second time around, when we upgraded her membership," Anya said sorrowfully. "That happened the day after July 4th, right after we asked about Ruth's case. You mentioned Peter's `murderous thoughts.' I totally freaked out that night, because I thought Peter might have been murderous. You do realize now what those thoughts were?" "Oh Luke, I'm so sorry. I do remember how sick and distressed you got, Luke. Unfortunately, our scanners didn't distinguish Peter's rage against the police from actual dark, evil, murderous intent. Grandmother always admonished me to look deeper, to probe deeper. Had I done so, I wouldn't have allowed Ruth's reality-shift and lifetime upgrade to go through, and I would have caught the miscarriage of justice she was already under. It's been a travesty all over." "Thank you, Anya," I said. "Something should have clued in Ma and Mrs. Winstead: in this reality where Peter supposedly never existed, another man has been held in jail since Jill's murder, in place of Peter but without Pa's ability to hire a good lawyer." "In this reality," added Mr. Matsumoto, "the suspect's face -- a black eighteen-year-old young man -- a boy, really -- has been repeatedly shown on television since almost the day of the murder. He was portrayed as the murderer, without any questioning his guilt, and numerous columnists and talk-show hosts cited this case as illustrating the need for an effective, quick death penalty." Mrs. Winstead opened her mouth, then shut it. "I only hope that if DNA shows his innocence, he is able to bring libel actions against those talk-show hosts, for major defamation. It's in his favor that he is not a public figure -- although an attorney with chutzpah might argue that he is one by virtue of his face appearing all over television." There was a tense moment of silence. I had the sense that everyone wanted to say something, but were hesitant about speaking out. Then Grandmother said, "I sense, Mr. Matsumoto, that you have wanted to tell me off about my practice for many years." Mr. Matsumoto looked shamefaced. "Peter/Ruth's case makes your point quite well, so go ahead. I'll try not to take offense." "Very well, Ma'am," he said to Grandmother. "You already realized that Bikini Beach's second reality shift wiped out our attempt to have DNA testing for the suspect -- wiped out our attempt to obtain evidence for the defense. Clearly an unintended consequence which, if intended, would be obstruction of justice. Your response has been satisfactorily prompt, and I thank you for that. I'm going to repeat the request to the prosecuting and defense attorneys, but I expect that your request will produce faster results -- at least if they know what's good for them." That produced laughter all around. Mr. Matsumoto continued, "You also realize that Bikini Beach's first reality shift replaced Peter with another unfortunate suspect in the same position -- and wiped out the murder's solution and the arrest of the murderer. You may also realize that Peter's life was ruined." "I wouldn't go that far," said Ruth. "Although I might change my mind, once I begin fourth grade. I was planning to go to Pacific Tech, but that could be postponed -- assuming that they didn't accept a nine- year-old applicant. I can't really tell how much my mind has retained Peter's knowledge and skills." "While Peter can't be restored, unfortunately," said Anya, "It is possible to age you back to your original age, or some other age. Reality would be shifted to reflect the change, and your acceptance at Pacific Tech would be restored for the new Ruth." "It would be Ruth's choice, of course, but I oppose on principle the mind-control that would entail," said Mr. Matsumoto. "Me, too -- especially now that I've been a victim," said Ruth. "I had severe trouble telling my story. And then I completely forgot, when you got me the lifetime upgrade. Mind control is evil. Except for softening my memories of the police interrogation. Thank you for that, Anya." I felt her shudder on my lap, even as she smiled at Anya. "I'm not sure what I want to do. I don't mind being a nine-year-old girl any more. I don't want to give up my friends. Daisy's the best friend one could wish for. I've made friends with other girls at home -- and also the girls at Bikini Beach. Then there's Luke, the best big brother in the world--" "Oh, come on now!" I said, blushing, and Ruth pressed herself hard back against me in my lap. "-- something I would never have imagined as Peter. I only had a couple friends as Peter. Both Luke and I were mostly loners before this summer. Also, I'm not really in any hurry to go to Pacific Tech; it could be postponed several years. One thing I really don't wish to do is repeat elementary school and middle school, although I could do it." "We don't have to decide now," said Grandmother. "You have plenty of time to think about it. There are colleges and universities with early entrance programs, where they accept children, usually middle-school age but sometimes as young as nine, into college. Maybe you could try for one of those." "I'm also thinking of perhaps redoing high school, but with a different focus. I could place out of some of the required classes, or perhaps redo them better than before, and take different electives. I could focus on theater, art, and music, for example. I'm definitely going to continue ballet. Taekwondo, too." "We can figure that out as we go along," said Mr. Matsumoto. "The only issue of urgency is what to do about Ruth and fourth grade. Of course, I expect you to take care of necessary expenses involved," he said to Grandmother. "Just one minute there," said Ma. "No daughter of mine will engage in such an unladylike activity as Taekwondo." "Pardon me, Ma. I'm your older son. I became your little daughter through no fault of my own. And because of your abuse of your authority, your treatment of me, you have forfeited any moral right to a mother's authority over me. Once I was accused of the rape and murder, you thought the worst of me, and acted accordingly -- persistently, in the face of contrary proof." Ma looked like she wanted to say something. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. Finally she collapsed back into her seat, looking about to cry. "Seriously, Ma, you really don't want a defenseless daughter growing up. Ballet and martial arts are a lethal combination, as Pa found out the hard way." "I'd completely forgotten that," said Pa. "I now understand more why you did that, and why you said what you said. It makes sense with you having been Peter." The conversation drifted. At one point, it got back to Peter, the jailed suspect, and the rogue police officers. Mr. Matsumoto admitted, "I'm double-minded -- very uncertain -- about it all. I'm perfectly fine with you visiting the suspect and determining his innocence. And if he IS innocent, we want him released as soon as possible. `Justice delayed is justice denied,' jail is unpleasant, and he's languished there far too long. But I can't really see you accomplishing his release fast without mind control or similar. DNA testing should clench the decision, making it clear to everyone." "Perhaps this might satisfy you," said Grandmother. If I find that the suspect is innocent, I may be able to have him released on bail while the DNA testing progresses. Even if he's constrained by Peter's bail conditions, it's better for him. It would require only subtle pushing." "I think that's a fine compromise. I don't wish to go too far with slippery-slope thinking," said Mr. Matsumoto. "As for acting against the rogue police officers, again I'm uncertain -- but only when the law refuses to act against rogue officers in general. Vigilantism is a sin, and there's a reason we don't allow anyone to go around punishing people they think are criminals. Legally, even the law is barred from punishing them without publicly proving their guilt first. "I've wanted to tell you off for setting yourself up as judge, jury, and executioner all at once. I have to concede in Ruth's case that Bikini Beach served only as executioner, with Mrs. Cuttington and Mrs. Winstead serving as judge and jury, after the real judge *AND* the prosecutor dismissed the case for contrary evidence." Ma closed her eyes, sat back in her chair, and looked about to cry again. Mrs. Winstead opened her mouth, then shut it again. I couldn't help being sorry for Ma, even though I tried to harden my heart. I had no such qualms or feelings about Mrs. Winstead; I was very happy to see her told off by a fellow adult. "I realize that if you were involved," continued Mr. Matsumoto, "You would have become judge as well as executioner, and done the right thing and said no." Grandmother bobbed her head. "I appreciate that." "Likewise, you realize that when Mrs. Cuttington brought her sons here, someone in your position did the Wrong Thing. But as I said earlier," he continued, ignoring Anya and Grandmother's guilty expressions, "I am uncertain about acting against the rogue officers who extracted Peter's confession or the current suspect's confession. On the one hand, if the problem's only a few bad apples, the law will easily deal with it. On the other hand, if the law won't deal with it, the problem's more than just a few bad apples -- the entire force is rotten, and the rot extends to the prosecutor's office. The rot extends pretty much to anyone in a position to do anything about it. "This would leave vigilante justice as the only option. However, since the prosecutor agreed rather quickly to dismiss the charges against Peter, I would think that if this suspect is exonerated, he might be willing to go after at least those bad cops who extracted the suspect's confession. At least, let's give him a chance, or a special prosecutor a chance." Talking went on, and I fogged out, or perhaps promptly forgot passages as soon as I heard them. Until... "Mind-control is just about the most insidious aspect of your practice, Ma'am. First, we mustn't confuse mind control with human stupidity or the nasty tactics used to program human stupidity. Once Erin and Mrs. Winstead decides that Peter's exoneration was merely a high-powered lawyer getting him off, it becomes difficult if not impossible for the facts to get through. It explains their dismissal of DNA evidence. It might even explain their dismissal of the arrest of the real murderer; stupidity knows no bounds. But their conviction that Peter was a rapist-murderer in the face of the arrest of the actual murderer could as well be mind control: changing their minds would be barred. "Here's a particularly insidious example of the evil mind-control could do: a girl could emerge from Bikini Beach's men's changing room, and her friend who used the women's room would not see a problem -- not even if someone pointed it out. Her mind would be barred from those thoughts." "Well, inside Bikini Beach, the men's room is labeled the women's overflow room," said Ruth. "That might make a difference." "Not really," said Mr. Matsumoto. "One could remember that the room was the men's changing room, even if labeled otherwise from the inside -- unless mind-control blocked the memory." I shuddered as the implications hit home. "That happened with me as Lucy," I said. "I changed and showered in the men's changing room every time except during that two-week pass. I mostly didn't even think of it. Not until Jen got mad at me, and then I remembered why -- falsely. It was a false memory. Before that, when Vanessa, or Vernon, and I changed, Vanessa hinted pretty blatantly why we were both in the men's room, and I was just confused." "Then there was how I could never tell my story," said Ruth. "Then after I'd forgotten everything, Mrs. Winstead was nice enough -- unintentionally, of course -- to tell Lucy and me what happened." "What are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Winstead, who for the most part, had remained silent throughout. "Mrs. Winstead, if you told someone who knew nothing about Bikini Beach and its transformations, that I was formerly an older boy named Peter, what do you think she'd say?" Mrs. Winstead didn't answer. "First Ma came home in a huff and told Pa about it. Then next week, Ma told your entire Firmlove friends about it, and you and Ma had a catfight." "Ruth!" exclaimed Ma and Mrs. Winstead simultaneously, both clearly embarrassed. I couldn't help laughing, a bit embarrassed myself. I could see Mr. Matsumoto barely holding in his mirth. He said, "There's always the concern about telling one's story; it sounds so unbelievable to one not already familiar with Bikini Beach. Mind control might ratchet up that fear. Or mind control may make it not to occur to someone even, to tell his story. For those who want to tell their story, mind-control can easily sabotage the attempt. I've had a few young ladies come to my office ostensibly to consult, only to come onto me rather hard, sexually. I've always managed to resist without difficulty, thanks to my dear wife who's also my best friend. Those young ladies were mostly of legal age, but a few looked as young as fifteen. Knowing what Bikini Beach could do, my guess is that they wanted to consult with me about something done to their minds, and the very thing done to their minds mangled it. Not necessarily Bikini Beach itself -- it could have been someone else's doing. He glanced at Pa and Ma. "Dan and Erin, I never told you about our experience with Bikini Beach. I might tell you sometime. Now I don't want to change anything to endanger Daisy." He visibly shuddered. "I realize I've made myself vulnerable in that respect, but then everyone with a family is vulnerable. "I once read a novel, _Replay_, whose author I've forgotten, where the protagonist repeatedly dies and finds himself back in time, back as his earlier self. In one case, he had an eleven-year-old daughter at the time he went back. He was most distressed over it, and it was no consolation that his daughter never existed in the first place in the following replays. She was alive and conscious at one moment, and at the next, she didn't exist -- the very definition of being killed." "Sir," said Grandmother, slowly. "I admit that if you pushed me or Anya too hard, I might have reminded or warned you about the danger to your daughter. But I would never kill a child that way in my ordinary practice -- circumstances would have to be dire in the extreme to resort to that." I kept thinking and shivering about the mind-control and death through reality-shift -- never having been born. Thinking of Daisy as a possibility made me almost cry. I could tell Ruth on my lap felt the same way. I lost quite a bit of the following conversation. "... school starting in little over a month," Mr. Matsumoto was saying. "Something has to be done if we don't want Ruth redoing fourth grade. Other than that, we have time to decide what to do." It sounded as though things were wrapping up. "Is there anything else?" The conference ended. Grandmother stood up, and the rest of us followed her example. As we filed out, I said, "Good bye, Anya and Grandmother. Have a good day." "Have a great day yourself," replied Anya, while Grandmother said a simple, "Good day." It was a relief for the conference to end. At least unlike most conferences, where everything went completely over my head and I was bored out of my mind, I was able to follow and participate a good part of the time. But its end was still a relief. When we got home, the first thing I did was change out of my suit, into shorts and tee-shirt. I vaguely noticed in the back of my mind Ma rushing to her bedroom. When I went back downstairs, I was astonished to hear Ma weeping and even wailing in her bedroom. I just couldn't take it; I scrunched up my face to avoid crying myself. "Luke," said Pa. "This turn of events has upset Ma extremely. She took a number of hard hits today." I had no idea what to say, what to do. I went into the dining room. We'd left a good part of Sunday Dinner on the table, so I began packing the remains into leftover containers and taking the dishes to the sink, scraping the dried food off, and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Pa joined me, and we worked in silence, cleaning everything up. I was feeling guilty anew at what we'd done to Ma, after she'd made us that huge feast. Only the focus on our clean-up kept me from breaking down right then and there. Afterwards, I just collapsed in the living room on one of the chairs, feeling oh-so-tired as well as sad and guilty. Pa went to his bedroom to be with Ma. The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. It was Daisy. "Hi Luke. How did the meeting go?" "Oh, it had its good parts and its bad parts. Grandmother immediately caught their awful mistake with Ruth. Ma remembers everything now, and is finally persuaded that she did Peter wrong. In fact, for the most part, it went horrible for her." I had to blink away tears. Ruth was just behind me. "Yeah, it's unbelievable, isn't it?" I had no idea what she meant. Ruth pulled me back into the living room, sat me down in one of the armchairs, and clambered into my lap, leaning against me and pulling my arms around her. "There's nothing more cozy than Luke's lap. Especially when you've been distressed." "Give me room, too, Ruth!" said Daisy. "I think I might be able to accommodate both of you," I said, as Daisy climbed up on my lap next to Ruth. My arms went around both of them. We spent the rest of the day sitting that way, relaxing and dozing off, occasionally talking. Ma and Pa came out, and we had our usual light Sunday evening snack. Afterwards, I recalled that I had piano lessons tomorrow. Remembering Peter wasn't going to change that, so I practiced a half-hour. ****************************** A Bikini Beach Summer by Daphne Xu Part 18 Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him. Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected. Monday, July 21 I awoke the next morning, feeling utterly depressed and wondering why. Running over yesterday's events, I realized I felt sorry for Ma. I kept thinking over and over, how hard Ma worked for us at home -- the feast she made yesterday, for example. Then at Bikini Beach, when she finally remembered what she'd done to Peter/Ruth, even Bikini Beach admitted that they had horribly wronged Peter -- Bikini Beach, which had actually done the job. Ma had taken several heart-rending blows. Ruth had even renounced Ma as her Ma. I found myself weeping, when Ruth knocked at the door. "Come in, Ruth." She entered and sat on my bed. "We were horrible to Ma," she said somberly. "Yeah. Everyone was, except Mrs. Winstead. And Pa," I added as an afterthought. "We were horrible to Mrs. Winstead, too," said Ruth. "Yeah, although I'm not feeling very sorry for her. If anyone was the villain, she was." "The police interrogators were," she corrected me. I didn't want to get into any dispute with Ruth about meaning villains at the conference, so I simply agreed, "Of course." We sat for a moment, then Ruth said, "I'm so grateful to Anya for what she did to my memories of the interrogation. It seems like only a bad dream now. I don't think I could live with the memories." I couldn't help crying at that, and couldn't say or do anything other than pull Ruth against me for a hug. I felt myself getting sleepy, and said as much. Ruth grabbed the covers and pulled them over both of us, and we lay down and slept for another couple hours. We awoke to a soft knocking on the door. The door was slowly opening, and Daisy peeked from behind the door. "Hi Daisy," I greeted her. "Come on in and join us. I have to go to the bathroom first." I slipped out of bed, did the job, and returned and sat on the bed. "I want to go to the library," said Ruth. "I want to really see how much of Peter's skills I've retained. It's not just knowledge; one can look up facts. I mean like math -- algebra, the ability to do problems. I'm afraid this would bore you, Daisy. I'm sorry." "That's Peter in you," said Daisy. "What you learned in high school." "I hope I haven't lost too much," said Ruth. "You'll probably be bored with it." "Oh, I'll be fine. I'll go to the usual area, and maybe get the next Tamora Pierce book." We finally got up and went downstairs. It was rather late, and Pa had apparently left for work. Ma was in her bedroom, but came out to warm up breakfast for us. She reached for the cassette player to turn on the Mental Work, but Ruth grabbed it first. "We've all heard it," she said. "Many times. At the one critical issue where success was most essential, the Mental Work utterly failed." Ma stood there, limp, obviously trying to hold in her tears. Even though it was one of the hardest and most embarrassing things to do -- for me as Luke (it would have been different as Lucy, thinking I was always Lucy) -- I got up and hugged Ma. She cried on my shoulder, and both Ruth and Daisy went around to hug her as well. After a while, she pulled away and conceded, "Very well, I won't require you to listen to the Mental Work, or the Lesson anymore." She sounded resigned. "Ma, I still have ballet today, and Luke still has piano lessons and Taekwondo. May we go to the library?" Ruth asked. "Yes, you may." We went upstairs, and changed into our uniforms -- my white TKD uniform and Ruth's leotard with the wrap-around skirt. On the way to the library, I asked Ruth, "Are you okay with ballet? I mean, now as Peter?" "Sure, no problem. I'll admit that, as Peter, the notion of wearing a leotard and doing ballet would have mortified me had it ever occurred to me. But I got over it rather quickly once I became Ruth. And as I said yesterday, Taekwondo and ballet make a lethal combination." "For me, the notion of being a girl mortified me, when I found out, that is. It must have been double for you, turning into a little girl," I said. "Embarrassing, mortifying, and really really creepy, utterly strange. Seeing you changed as well reduced the embarrassment. But then you started talking strange, and acting strange." "As if I were always Lucy, and you were always Ruth," I said. "That must have been... must have driven you crazy." "And how! Then Ma appeared, and you left me to her tender mercies." "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, remembered how Ma viewed Peter at the time. I reached down to hug her. "Wasn't your fault," she said. "Ma practically taunted me that you wouldn't remember anything. She was almost Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to me." "Who are they?" asked Daisy. "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?" asked Ruth. "It's an old story, one I didn't actually read, although I saw an old movie of it. Basically, Dr. Jekyll is a doctor and an inventor He invents a potion that separates a person's bad side from his good side. "When he drinks the potion, he turns into a psychopathic killer named Mr. Hyde. Mr. Hyde gradually takes over Dr. Jekyll. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde have become the metaphor for someone who's nice and friendly with (say) your parents, but then turns into a witch with you. She could be a teacher." "Oh," said Daisy. Carol was at the library again. We saw that she was reading a magazine. She jumped and ran toward us. "Hi, guys!" she said breathlessly, hugging first me and then Ruth and Daisy. I noticed she seemed a bit flushed. "There's so much I have to tell you, Carol!" I said, hugging her again. "A lot happened yesterday." "Luke," said Ruth. "Don't worry about getting me to ballet. I'll make it on my own. Go ahead and do your own things." I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Is it okay if I tell Carol about yesterday?" Ruth said out loud, "Go ahead. She knows most of it already." "Let's go outside," said Carol. "That way, we don't have to keep our voices down." As we walked out, I glanced back at Ruth and Daisy. They were at the table Carol was sitting at, and I saw Daisy peek under the magazine. It was just a glance; I couldn't make out if anything really was underneath. Once we were outside, Carol said, "I couldn't help it; the temptation was too great. I had to read 'Forbidden Flowers' again." She took a deep, deep breath. "I really have to get Mom to put me on birth control." Yikes! I wasn't sure which scared me more, the shocking exciting prospect that Carol might actually have sex with me, or that Carol might actually ask her Mom about such things. I grabbed Carol and pulled her into a tight embrace, and she pressed her mouth up hard against mine. We kissed and made out for several minutes, before I had to come up for air. I was red-faced, and even Carol had a tinge of red. To change the subject -- and to get back to what I'd wanted to tell her in the first place -- I said, "A lot happened. Um, you still remember me as Lucy, right?" "Yeah. It's so weird!" she answered. "I mean, Saturday was the first time I saw you as Lucy, but remembered Luke. And now I remember Lucy. There's a whole world of difference between figuring out and knowing intellectually that you were a girl, and actually remembering it. Then seeing you as Lucy and remembering Luke. "The closest I came before was when I joined Vernon and you together in line for Bikini Beach. I'm not even sure now, whether I remembered Vernon or Vanessa before seeing you guys. But during that half-hour at least, my memories of Vanessa were retconned into memories of Vernon. I only consciously remembered a few things, but overall I remembered Vernon at Bikini Beach." "That was when Mrs. King got us the two-week passes, and we turned into Vanessa and Lucy." "Yeah. Then bizarrely, I remembered being with Vernon and Lucy in line." "While I remembered only Vanessa, once she changed." "Yeah," she said. "I continued to remember Vernon, while you remembered purely Vanessa. But all three of us remembered only Lucy." "That was Ma's doing," I answered. "She and Mrs. Winstead arranged the whole cursed thing." "Well, to continue my story, my memories of Vanessa reverted to the proper memories once she changed. I still remembered, during that half-hour of Vernon, remembering Vanessa as Vernon -- vague memories except for a few that I consciously went over. For example, I still remember remembering the false memory of meeting Vernon the first time at Bikini Beach. Boy, that sounded convoluted, didn't it?" "No, not at all," I said. "I have a lot of that myself. Embarrassing case in point -- not that the whole thing about being a girl with Pa isn't embarrassing enough --" Carol laughed. "But anyways. Remember that time I was terrified of going home and being caught by Pa in a bikini?" She nodded. "You got a one-piece swimsuit." "Yeah, I wised up. Having Pa see me in that was embarrassing enough, but at least he grudgingly accepted those for swimming. But then I became Luke, and memories changed. Luke went home wearing a tight girl's one-piece swimsuit." Carol squeaked, suppressing her obvious laughter. "Sorry. I can't help laughing every time I think of it, even though I know it didn't happen." "Yeah," I agreed. "Utterly silly-looking. Pa began chewing me out, and our confrontation almost got violent. It didn't happen. I no longer remember it happening, but I remember remembering it and repeatedly going over it. And Saturday, I brought that swimsuit with me to Bikini Beach, firmly deciding to wear it again -- just to say, `Up yours!' to Pa." "Yeah, that's what I was talking about. I only saw Vernon that half- hour in line. But with you, I'm remembering a whole slew of false memories of you as Luke, false memories of you as Lucy, genuine -- I hope -- memories of both." She laughed and said, "A very hot, very handsome guy. A very hot, very pretty girl." She grabbed me in a hug, and we kissed and made out again. I looked her up and down. "And my memories of you: all girl, very pretty, whose smile lights up the world." I blushed while saying that, and we kissed some more. "Say, Luke. Is it time for piano yet?" "Yikes!" I glanced at my watch. "Still half an hour to go. Ruth has all of Peter's memories now -- I haven't told you that story yet. Let's get my stuff, and I'll tell you on the way." We returned to the library's front desk and I retrieved my knapsack with my piano music. "Going home, meeting Ma and Pa as Lucy, was a frightening and embarrassing thing Saturday," I said. "They had no memories of Lucy -- only Daisy did. They were easily persuaded that I was Luke, even though I was, in Pa's words, `a very pretty young teenage girl.' They said I looked both like an older version of Ruth and a very young version of Ma." Carol giggled. "I can imagine it, a boy being seen as a very pretty young girl -- by one's parents no less. Becky expressed the same sentiments." "My bedroom, or Lucy's, clinched it for them, I think." "Anyways, I persuaded Ma to make up with Mrs. Winstead, and invite her for Sunday dinner. I had the idea of having Mrs. Winstead come clean about Bikini Beach. At the same time, I proposed to Pa that Daisy and her parents come for Sunday dinner. Oh, I'm so sorry. I should have invited you, too." "Oh. that's quite all right." She smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. I forgot for a moment what I was going to say. Then, "Yesterday morning, we got to talking a bit. Mainly to confirm to Pa that he wasn't dreaming the day before when he saw me. We told him about Bikini Beach transformations. I'm not sure he believed me, since he remembered only Luke except for the day before yesterday. "We went to church. Then after church, we had Sunday Dinner with Mrs. Winstead and Daisy and her parents. It took a while, but then I managed to bring up Bikini Beach." "How did that go over?" asked Carol. "Mrs. Winstead confirmed that Ruth was indeed formerly my big brother Peter, seventeen at the time, and accused of the rape and murder. We got into quite an argument in spots, with Mrs. Winstead being fundamentally clueless about the very notion of someone being falsely accused. Oh, and Pa has forbidden us from going to Bikini Beach, because of what it does to our minds. I can't go tomorrow, or any more." "Oh, I'm so sorry. The girls'll miss you." "I'll miss them as well. At least I'll continue to see you, Carol. Anyway, ironically, we all went to Bikini Beach yesterday to discuss Ruth and Peter. Everyone except Mrs. Matsumoto and Daisy. I met Grandmother for the first time." "Oh? How did it go?" asked Carol. "She wasn't stern in the least with me or Ruth. In fact, one glance at Ruth, and she freaked out with guilt. She restored everyone's memories of us, and what happened, including the criminal case. I don't know about Mrs. Winstead, but Ma was finally convinced that she did Peter wrong. Peter was no murderer." I continued, wondering whether I should really say this. "I don't know if I told you this before, but," I was really shaking with fear. "The murder case was Alice's cousin's murder." There. I got it out. "I don't think you told me, but I pretty much knew it. At least Ruth, Peter didn't do it." "We also learned that the day before Ma took us to Bikini Beach, the actual murderer was arrested based on the DNA testing. He's not the current suspect. Bikini Beach wiped that out when they changed Peter to Ruth. The current suspect is someone different." The subject was depressing, and we remained silent after this until we reached Mrs. Prudence's house. Carol waited outside while I had a piano lesson worse than usual -- far from the worst, but still worse than usual. Then we went to the mall for Taekwondo, and then to meet Ruth and Daisy again at the ballet studio. I remembered doing ballet as Lucy. I tried a few leaps and spins on the way. My mind remembered, although my body was overly stiff. Nevertheless, I managed them without total clumsiness. Muscle-memory, I figured, must not be really muscle memory, but some level of mind- memory. Carol applauded, and then hugged me. "Not bad! Not bad at all!" We reached the studio just as Daisy and Ruth emerged with other kids. One of them said, "They're here for you again, Ruth. Hi, guys!" "Hi, guys!" I responded. Ruth whispered in Daisy's ear, then said, "See-ya, guys," to the others. Ruth and Daisy both ran up and jumped on us, Daisy on me and Ruth on Carol. I lifted Daisy up for a good hug, and Carol hoisted Ruth with some trouble. "Ooof!" she exclaimed. "I'm not used to carrying kids like this." "This has been only a fairly recent development for me as well," I said while adjusting one hand under Daisy's bottom and the other around her back to hold her firmly against me. She wrapped her legs and arms around me. "But one gets accustomed to it quickly, especially when one discovers how wonderful it is. But don't expect us to carry you all the way home like this," I added. "I'm not quite up to that." We were slowly making our way to the stairs, as the other girls and boys from Ruth's ballet class rushed past us to get home, many saying goodbye to Ruth. "Carol, I never realized until now how pretty you are," said Ruth. "Geez, thanks, Ruth," Carol said. "Pretty... hot... sexy," Ruth continued, in a husky voice, sounding almost lecherous. "If Luke had brought you home while I was still Peter... well, it's very uncool to hit on one's kid brother's girlfriend. Nevertheless, I would have had a hard time restraining myself from hitting on you--" Carol emitted an embarrassed laugh. "Especially after getting to know you, even risking making an enemy of my kid brother." Ruth looked over at me. "You have excellent taste in girlfriends, Luke." I blushed before I came up with an appropriate come-back. "I would simply have to console myself with Daisy." I held her tighter to me, and she kissed my cheek, as both Ruth and Carol laughed. Carol and I let down the girls when we reached the stairs down, and we walked the mile walk home, talking about random things. We spent the afternoon playing outside with other friends of Daisy and Ruth until dinner time. It was during dinner that the call from Mr. Matsumoto came. Daisy was momentarily scared that she should have gone home or called at the very least, but his call was about something completely different. Pa spoke with him for a while, then hung up and told us the news: "Timothy Anderson, the suspect in the Denison murder has been released on bail." "Grandmother worked fast," commented Ruth. "He's been released into his older brother's custody. His bail conditions are basically house arrest except for court appearances and church attendance -- pretty much the same as Peter's were over a month ago." "I'm really frightened about his mental state," said Ruth. "I mean, I was enraged, imagining all sorts of vengeance against the police, with a hair-trigger temper. And he's been in jail more than a month longer than me. I hope he can manage to stay home, holding to his bail conditions, and avoid ripping his house apart. Or maybe Grandmother softened his memories." "I understand he lives in town in an apartment with his brother," said Pa. The rest of his family lives in a small town quite a ways away. He was here originally to attend a better high school, and he just graduated this past spring." "This is getting scary," I said. I was afraid of learning that... "He's black, right?" "Yes," said Pa. "What was his name again?" "Timothy Anderson." "Also called Tim? And he lives with his older brother in a downtown apartment?" "I don't know where it is, but yes, with his older brother," answered Pa. "It sounds as if he could be..." I couldn't say it. "Jen's friend Tim," said Carol. "I've known it. I never mentioned it, because I didn't want to poison our friendships." "At least we know he didn't do it," I said. "The real killer was arrested the day before Peter and I first went to Bikini Beach. When Peter became Ruth, Peter's arrest and the DNA testing that acquitted Peter and got the real killer were wiped out, and Tim was next in line after Peter for whatever motivated those cops." "Excuse me," said Ma. I glanced over at her, and saw her trying to hold in her tears as she got up and left the room. "Oh, oh, oh!" I said, distressed with guilt. "I wish you hadn't discussed that in Ma's presence," said Pa. "Oh, I know. I know." I was about to cry myself. I moved the plate out of the way, and lowered my head into my arms. Carol pulled herself against me, and both Daisy and Ruth came around and squeezed in to hug me. "I think Ma needs the comforting," I said. "Your Pa's gone to do it," murmured Carol next to me. We didn't do much of anything that evening. I practiced a little piano and clarinet. Carol had to go home, but before she left, we talked with Pa about my going to Bikini Beach the next day. I didn't say anything about that "very pretty, young teenage girl." Things were too serious. Pa was very sympathetic, but overall, very much avoiding a stern tone, he reiterated the prohibition against Bikini Beach. "Even though Grandmother and -- what was her name?" "Anya," I answered, quite sure who he was referring to. "Yes, Anya. They seem like very reasonable persons, but we still don't know what they might do with our minds. Sorry, Luke." Carol then asked if I would be disappointed if she went to Bikini Beach to join the other girls, instead of staying with me. "No, not at all," I lied. Fortunately, I promptly came up with an excuse that made me feel all the better. "I don't want to lose them. You can keep me connected with them, when I can't see them." I walked her out to the bus stop, reaching it when the bus was still visible several blocks away. We made out until the bus stopped and she boarded. Then I returned home. I practiced a little more piano, and then Ruth accosted me and showed me an algebra problem. "Luke, do you think this is right? Or did I merely do gibberish?" I couldn't really tell from looking it over. It was always easier for me to do a problem myself, than to read and go over someone else's work. "I don't know. Give me the problem itself, and see if I can do it. That's easier for me. She gave me the problem, and I went to the kitchen table to do it. It was actually rather straight-forward, although it took me a little time. I eventually got the same answer as Ruth, and saw that Ruth did pretty much the same as me. "Looks like you did it right -- or roughly the way I did it," I told her. "Good," she said. "It looks like I have at least some of Peter's skills back. I didn't just do random gibberish here." Daisy, who'd been sitting in silence, glanced at the papers, and said. "I don't understand a bit of this." "Well," I said. "The basic idea is that we would like to find out what a number is. We don't know what it is, but if we call it a letter, then we can write down equations using it. We solve the equations for the letter. "Here's a problem. A class has 25 students. There are five more girls than boys. How many boys and girls are there?" "You mean, like ten boys and fifteen girls?" Daisy asked. "Yeah, very good, Daisy! That was fast!" I said. "We have a procedure to follow, for when we encounter much harder problems. For this problem, we might let G equal the number of girls, and B equal the number of boys." I wrote the problem down, and an abbreviation for the definitions of B and G. "We know these two facts: B+G=25, and G=B+5." I wrote them down. "Then we substitute for G its expression and get: B+B+5=25. We subtract 5 from both sides of the equation and get 2B=20. Divide both sides of the equation by 2, and get B=10. So we have 10 boys. Substitute that number into G=B+5, and we get 15 girls." Ruth said, "I remember, we were allowed to solve the problem in our head, like you did, Daisy. But we had to show that the conditions of the problem were satisfied. Like, fifteen is five more than ten, or 15=10+5, and also 15+10=25. Sometimes, there might be a second solution. The procedure allows us to conclude that ten boys and fifteen girls is the only solution. Uniqueness, they call it." "This is tough," Daisy said. "Hard." "Ah, well," said Ruth. "You don't have to do anything like this for another few years." "I took algebra last year, in eighth grade," I said. "Funny, when I was Lucy, I didn't remember taking algebra. I thought I'd taken different classes." "Bikini Beach does that to you," Ruth said. Eventually, it was Ruth's bedtime, and I went to bed at the same time. Tuesday and Wednesday, July 22 and 23 I woke up the next morning. My first thought was, "Yay! It's Tuesday! Bikini Beach any my friends!" Then depression hit me as I remembered, no more Bikini Beach. I got up and used the bathroom, then returned to bed and lay in bed awake for another hour. Pa had already left for work by the time I got downstairs for breakfast. I saw no sign of Ruth and Daisy. As I made myself a breakfast of milk, orange juice, and cereal, Ma indicated the cassette player with the Mental Work, but didn't actually turn it on. I didn't want to hear it. "I should call Mrs. King, and tell her not to come pick us up," I said to Ma, going over to the phone. "I'll let you go to Bikini Beach if you want. We don't have to tell Pa." "No, Ma. Pa prohibited us from going, for good reason. I have no reason to go against Pa. Anyway, he'd find out as soon as Lucy returned home." I got to the phone, and managed to reach them before they left. As soon as I identified myself as Luke, Mrs. King called for Vanessa. "Hey, Luke! What's up?" "Pa has forbidden us from going to Bikini Beach." "He doesn't like you being Lucy? Or he doesn't like the Bikini part of Bikini Beach?" asked Vanessa. "He's always tolerated the Bikini part, and my being Lucy merely embarrasses him now. What he's mad about, and firm about, is what Bikini Beach might do to our minds. He doesn't like it. He has absolutely forbidden us from going. He remembers everything now -- Ruth as Peter, the criminal case, the whole shebang." Vanessa sighed audibly. "We'll miss you, Luke. And we'll miss Lucy, too." I heard Helen in the background, and Vanessa talking with her. "Helen will miss Ruth, too." More talk in the background. "She just asked about Daisy. I think she wants to see her again." "Ruth and Daisy would be happy to see Helen as well. She's certainly welcome," I said. We talked some more. I thought of mentioning that Tim had been let out of jail. However, I decided against it. Jen would no doubt tell them at Bikini Beach. Eventually, we said our goodbyes, and hung up, me with a sigh. I was going to miss them. The day loomed empty and boring now. I practiced a half-hour of piano and a half-hour of clarinet, then got out a book to read and settled down in the living room. Ma was doing chores, and I was feeling guilty sitting about when she was working. When she started vacuuming the living room, I got up and went to her. "Ma, may I take over from you? You might want a little rest." "Why thank you, Luke!" I took the vacuum cleaner and tried to vacuum the living room properly. Ma didn't sit down to relax, though. She found another thing to do while I vacuumed. After the living room, I decided to vacuum the stairs, and then my bedroom. I had to neaten my room just a bit, in order to get everywhere. I didn't go in anyone else's bedroom or the bathroom. Instead I went to the stairs down to the basement, and then the basement playroom itself. I came back upstairs, ready to put the vacuum cleaner away, when the front door opened and in stumbled a very tearful Carol, arms around Daisy and Ruth holding her tight on either side. I left the vacuum cleaner and ran to Carol, who burst into tears as my arms went around her and she pressed against me. It seemed that any remaining jealousy Daisy had of Carol had disappeared. What happened? Carol started talking. "We've broken up!" she said in a burst of new tears. "Tim was freed from jail. Jen was so happy and excited. Then Alice came, furious that the suspect in her cousin's murder was released on bail. "Vanessa took Jen's side, and Becky took Alice's," Carol said. "I was on Jen's side, of course, and I tried to explain that Tim was innocent of the murder. I mangled it, I know." She cried some more. "I don't know what I said wrong, but Jen and Vanessa turned against me as well! I finally ran off, left Bikini Beach, and came here." We found a seat and sat down, with Carol on my lap. "You were vacuuming, when I got here," said Carol. "I'd just finished up," I said. "I've been feeling really sorry for Ma about everything Ma did for the family." "That's very nice of you," said Carol. "Most guys don't notice. Or they're too lazy. Or they think it's all women's work." "Sunday at Bikini Beach hit Ma hard. After she made the big Sunday Dinner for us." We spent the rest of the afternoon together, doing various things. Carol stayed for dinner, and told Ma and Pa about what happened at Bikini Beach. "I take it you want Luke to return to Bikini Beach Thursday?" said Pa. "If that's okay with you," said Carol. Pa pause a minute, obviously thinking. I thought of saying that he would see that "very pretty, young teenage girl" again, but decided against it. Now was not a time to joke, or to torment Pa. He finally said, "Okay Luke, you may go." "What about--" began Ruth. "Yes?" said Pa. "Nothing," she said, looking at Daisy, sounding depressed. Ma came up with correct explanation. "Ruth wants to see her friends at Bikini Beach, but doesn't want to leave Daisy behind." "I've managed. I play with other friends when Ruth isn't around," said Daisy. "However." She jumped up and ran to the phone. She came back a moment later and said, "Dad says I can go Thursday if Ruth and Luke go!" "Yippee!" exclaimed Ruth, jumping up to hug Daisy. This evening was more or less routine. Ma went to her Tuesday Firmlove meeting. Carol had to go home, Daisy stayed the night, and I practiced some on piano and clarinet. Wednesday was routine, but quiet. We went to the Library and met Carol. I had Taekwondo and Ruth had ballet. We had church that evening. ****