How I Became The Baddest Girl In Clarksville Part 12: Alex Doesn't Live Here Anymore free porn video

How I became the Baddest Girl in Clarksville Part 12 : Alex Doesn't Live Here Anymore -Killing and Arab- The sleepover was a dud. They say you don't know how much you miss something until it's gone. and I had to admit this was true about Brett. Until Friday night, I hadn't realized how much she contributed to our nerd posse. Even though we had friction between us the last few days, I wished she was with us now. She'd kept things popping at Abby's Halloween night. Without her quirky ideas, we found ourselves laying around feeding our faces in a pathetic pretense of having fun. Finally, Shelly suggested we watch a movie, to which I suppressed a groan. I knew the kind of movie Shelly meant, 95 to 125 minutes of torture. Fortunately, Abby shot down the movie, pointing out that she could have stayed home to do that. Shelly dropped onto the couch to sulk. I resumed solving the Sudoku puzzle on my phone while Abby tore open another bag of Cheetos. After an hour of puzzle solving that left me with a drained phone battery and Abby's fingers sore from flipping through magazines she'd read, already we agreed Shelly could pull out her box of videos. Shelly squealed with delight. "I've got just the one!" she cried, digging through her DVDs. "Have you seen the 'The Fault in Our Stars'?" We shook our heads. "You're gonna love it," she beamed, placing the DVD in the disk drawer and sliding it into the player. Abby and I hated the movie. The story revolved around two teens with cancer, Hazel and Gus. They meet in a support group where they develop a relationship - of sorts. They were more than friends but not quite lovers. Most of the scenes focused on their disappointments. Every time they tired to pull off a quasi- romantic interlude -- a picnic, their trip to Amsterdam (to meet the author of this weird book Hazel obsessed over), Hazel would have an episode and end up hospitalize. This was repeated so many times it began to drain me of any sympathy for them. The two teens handled it by making lame jokes or asking pseudo- philosophical questions that had no bearing on anything. When the show finally crawled to its climax, even tthat was cheesy. It's Gus that dies not Hazel. The movie ends with Hazel reading the eulogy Gus wrote for her when he thought she was dying in the ICU. I think I was supposed to be moved by what was meant to be a poignant moment but all I wanted to do was shout hurray. Finally it was over. To be fair, the movie was probably not 'that' bad, but with everything that had gone down over the week, I wasn't in the mood. I was dealing with my own dramas. "So," asked Shelly. when the credits began to scroll down the screen, "what do you guys want to do now?" "I don't know," said Abby. "We need Brett here. She always has cool ideas. Why'd she have to get sick, anyway" Shelly, who was transferring the DVD from the player to its case, paused. "Alex has good ideas, sometimes. Let her decide." "Okay, Alex," Abby said, "you choose." "Uh...Play cards?" I said. Sleepovers were still new to me. "Cards!" Abby cried. "Yeah," I said. "Uh...like Hearts or Old Maid. It'll be fun." "If we were five," Abby said in a dismissive tone. "We could watch another movie," shelly volunteered. Abby sighed. "We might as well. Alex's suggestion sucked." I bit back what I wanted to say, that Abby could go fuck herself.. She hadn't come up with anything. What really hurt was Shelly hadn't come to my defense. Watching my two friends huddle around the pile of DVDs on the rug, I felt like a third wheel. After a few minutes, I slipped out of the room. I didn't know where I was going until I found myself on the front steps. The night was a cloudless expanse of black velvet crowded with stars. This was one of the things about Clarksville I loved. Unlike the polluted skies of California where only the brightest stars glowed weakly through a blanket of factory emissions and car exhaust, Clarksville's sky was pristine. The lack city lights was also a plus. The almost total blackness allowed for a show of stars that rivaled the best planetarium. After I picked out the Big Dipper and the Milky Way (which pretty much used up my knowledge of constellations) I sat on the top step and stared into the dark. It wasn't long before the night's chill began to seep through my clothes. I wished I'd worn my jacket but I wasn't ready to go back in, not after Abby's comment. The sleepover had been a bad idea and I wanted it to be over. "A penny for your thoughts," said a voice behind me. I turned around to find Mrs. Gartman smiling down at me. "Want some company?" she asked. I shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes," she said, settling next to me on the step. She gazed up at the sky. "Beautiful isn't it." When I said nothing, she went on. "So unlike the night sky in New York. You were lucky to see any stars there at all." "Care to talk about what's wrong?" she asked. I didn't answer. Instead I continued to stare out into the darkness. "You know, Alex. I can be as stubborn as you. I can sit here all night if necessary. My granddaughter's best friend has something bothering her and I'm not leaving until I know what it is." "Fine." I sighed. "Well I'll be," Mrs. Gartman laughed. "You can speak. I was afraid you'd become a mute." "So tell me why you'd rather sit out here shivering in the cold, than be inside with your friends. Where it's warm." "I don't know," I mumbled. "I just felt like being by myself for a while." "That wasn't really an answer. Does what's bothering you have to do with your dad losing his job when the plant closes?" I snapped my head around. "How can you know about that? No one is supposed to know about that but Austin and his dad." Mrs. Gartanan smiled. "Let's say writers have a way of knowing things. What's important is I got you to talk. Now let's get out of this cold. I'm thinking a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen would be just about perfect to get someone feeling better." Mrs. Gartman's kitchen was as welcome and pleasant as I remembered. I sat at the table, basking in the warmth of the room, watching as she heated the hot chocolate on the stove. Finishing her task, she poured the dark liquid into two mugs and carried the steaming vessels to the table. Handing one to me, she kept the other for herself. "I can't think of anything more perfect on a cold night like this," she said taking a seat across from me. "Try your cocoa. I need to know if I can still make a good cup of hot chocolate." As much as I wanted to resist, the delicious aroma wafting up under my node was too much. Lifting the cup to my lips I tasted the mix of sweetened milk and chocolate. It was so deliciously decadent I practically swooned. I sat my cup down with the taste of hot chocolate still on my tongue. "It's really good," I said. "I'm glad," Mrs. Gartman replied lowering her own cup, smiling at me. "It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch. I used to make it for Shelly when she was little but she says she's outgrown it now-- if such a thing is possible." I took another sip of my drink relishing the warm liquid as it flowed down my throat. "Feeling better?" Mrs. Gartman asked. I lowered my cup enough to nod. "You can say what you want about chicken soup being food for the soul but I'll put my money on the cocoa bean," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily under the overhead light. We sipped at our cocoa and when Mrs. Gartman spoke again something about her had changed. It was if she became someone else else. "It's been hard for you hasn't it," she said lifting her cup to her lips. Her eyes probed mine. Her voice was cool, almost cold. "What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable. "Your move from the familiar to the unfamiliar. Clarksville is so small and closed, strangers stand out, and rumors often circulate about them. Sometimes the rumors are outlandishly bizarre." I stared at the older woman, my cup of cocoa forgotten. Where was this going? Had she heard the rumors about me? "That's the way it was for me," she said, her voice detached. "It took a very long time before I was accepted into the community. Has it been that way for you?" "Uh, yeah...I guess... California is a lot different than here." "I've always thought I'd like to live in California," she said. "Los Angeles or maybe San Francisco. The problem is it's a poor choice for writers. New York is still the literary capital. All the major publishing houses are located there not to mention any literary agency worth its salt." She paused, as if remembering something. "It was very hard to leave," she said, picking up where she left off. "I was just beginning to see my books sell and I was afraid I might be sabotaging my career as a writer, before I was established." "So why did you leave?" I asked. "I did it for Shelly," she said, her eyes distant. "New York can be a very cold. Not in the sense of the weather. It's much colder weather-wise in Clarksville. I'm speaking of the way people treat each other. Shelly needed a place where she could feel safe and loved. New York was not that place." For a moment neither of us spoke. "So what was it like in Sacramento?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Did you have many friends? I'm sure you did." "Some, yeah," I said, her question reviving that uncomfortable feeling from before. Sacramento belonged to John not to me. "I'm betting you were a tomboy," she said. "I guess," I replied. "But I have a question." I added reversing the direction of the conversation, putting her on the defensive. "How did you know the plant is closing? You said writers know stuff but bow." "Ouch!. If I told you how I'd have to kill you," she laughed. "Let's say I have my sources. " "You know stuff," I cried. "Stuff nobody could know but you do. How?" Mrs. Gartman continued to smile but her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit "We were talking about you. Alex," she said softly. "You're not going to tell me are you," I said. "There's nothing to tell, honey," she said still smiling. but the guarded look in her eyes, remained. "The morning after Shelly and I had our fight you were waiting on the porch when Mom and I drove up. You knew we were coming." "I remember that morning. You happened to pull up as I was collecting the morning paper." "But you didn't have a paper--" "There you are, Alex." Shelly stood in the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts, a semi-amused look on her face. "I guess Abby and I weren't interesting enough for you." "Don't blame, Alex," said Mrs. Gartman coming to my defense. "I lured her away. I knew she was from California and I had some questions about what it's like there. Some of the action in my next book will take place in California. I want to be accurate." "Go back to your party, Honey," Mrs. Gartman said. "We can talk about California some other time." Following Shelly back to the den, I promised myself we would indeed talk again, but not about California. -Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict- Abby left early the next morning, right after breakfast. No surprise there. The sleepover had been a bummer with a capitol B, maybe a capital everything. Whether she intended it or not Brett had ruined Shelly's slumber party. Shelly looked as if she might cry as we watched Abby carry her overnight bag to the car, where her mother waited. "I guess you want to go home too, Alex," she said, after waving good-bye and then closing the front door. As much as I wanted to say yes and end the most boring night of my life--Shelly was my friend. I wasn't going to abandon her like Abby. "I thought we were going to the mall," I said, not really feeling it but not wanting the sleep over to be a total bust. "Are you serious?" she asked. "You still want to do that." I nodded. "And guess what?" I said. "What?" she asked. "I brought a skirt. We can dress up." Her face brightened. She threw her arms around me so suddenly we almost toppled over. "Oh, Alex. You are the best friend ever!" she cried rocking us back and forth. Looking over best friend's shoulder, I spotted Mrs. Gartman watching from the doorway. She was smiling. The mall was overflowing with people when we arrived: mothers towing their young kids, groups of teens, older couples. It was like the whole town had come out to shop, everyone moving at the slow pace of a chain gang. Shelly and I fell in step, our eyes drinking in the various store's offerings, glittering like treasure under the mall's high tech lighting. With the holidays so close, the majority of stores sported Christmas decorations composed of twinkling lights, inflatable ornaments and the occasional reindeer. Seasonal music spilled out of speakers mounted near the ceiling. "Isn't this exciting, Alex," shelly said, her eyes aglow from the bright lights shining down from above. "This is my favorite time to visit the mall. Everything is so..so pretty, all the decorations and everything. Don't you just love it." I smiled and nodded. For all the fear I'd harbored since Austin told me the fertilizer plant was shutting down (and with it the town), I was enjoying myself. The mall was brimming with holiday spirit, sparkling like a gigantic necklace strung with precious jewels. It was maximum eye candy of the Christmas kind. As we inched along, I found myself stealing glances of my reflection in the store windows. Unlike the first time I'd worn a skirt to the mall, today, I was completely unselfconscious. Actually, it was fun watching boys turn their heads as Shelly and I walked passed, their eyes locked on out bodies. "Where do you want to stop first?" Shelly asked. We were coming up on stores that catered to teens. "How about 'Bling and Things'," I suggested. "Bling and Things" specialized in inexpensive bags and accessories. More importantly, they carried an extensive line of nail polish. I'd been toying with the idea of painting my nails. Most of the other girls painted theirs on a weekly basis. I wanted to try it too. Shelly came to an abrupt stop, her eyes wide. "Seriously," she said cocking her head. "You want to shop at Bling! That's a girly girl store." "I was thinking about painting my nails," I confessed. "I thought I'd see what colors they had." "Who are you and what did you do with the real Alex Tetras," she laughed. I watched as a grin spread across her face. "I don't know what's happening to you, Alex but I like it." Bling was tiny compared to other shops in the mall, There was only enough space in the center of the store for a double row of bins These were filled with an assortment of cheap purses, shoulder bags, knit hats and sequined sweaters. Everything else dangled from pegs or sat on shelving bolted to the store walls.. Entering the store I noticed there were a couple of other girls checking out Bling's offering. I recognized them from out school. "Hi," I said as we eased past. The girls flashed us disinterested looks and then returned to picking through a rack of plastic bracelets. "That was rude," I said to Shelly. "Don't worry about it, Alex," shelly said, her eyes drinking in the brightly colored plastic and cheap gold plating. "Let's shop." The nail polish display was located in the rear of the store. I split from Shelly, using the large color chart towering above its surroundings to navigate to my destination. I picked through the multiple tiers of colors, self-conscious of what I was doing. This was unlike me, but so was my skirt . I shook off the feeling. Selecting a half-dozen shades, I carried them to the checkout counter where a skinny, tattooed girl with pink hair waited by the cash register. Pink hair gave each bottle a disapproving frown before ringing it up. "You lucked out," she said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. "These are all on sale. Twelve-forty." I counted out the money while she bagged my purchase. "I would have gone with the neon," she said placing the last bottle in the bag. "But different strokes for different folks, right?" "I guess," I said, reaching for my bag "Yeah," she said. "I'm right." I walked away wondering what the hell that was about. After my weird exchange with the pink haired, tattoo girl I was ready to go. The problem was Shelly hadn't finished shopping, A glance her way showed her elbow deep in a bin of fake leather purses. I sighed. This was going to take a while. With nothing to do, I wandered around, attempting to lose myself in some of the stores gaudy displays, when I noticed the pink hair girl following me with her eyes. Her stares were quickly becoming uncomfortable. I looked for a place out of her line of sight when she came from around the counter. "Hey kid," she said power-walking toward me. "You can't walk around with that bag. You're gonna have to give it to me or leave, store policy." "What? You think I'm trying to steal something?" I said, fighting to control my voice. The two girls I'd seen earlier were looking on, grinning. Shelly put down the purse she was considering and hurried to my side. "What's going on, Alex?" she asked. "She thinks I'm a shoplifter," I said, nodding toward the pink haired girl. "Alex doesn't steal," shelly said. "Hey," the pink haired girl said throwing up her hands. "I'm not saying she does. She can't walk around the store with an open bag. Not my rule. Take it up with corporate. Geez." "It's okay," I said to Shelly. "I'll wait for you outside." "Thanks," Shelly said, looking relieved. "I'll hurry." Outside the store, I leaned against Bling's display window gazing at nothing. My mood hoovered between gloomy and grim Shelly was taking way too long and I was getting fidgety. I considered going back into the store and hustling her out but I didn't want another episode with pink hair. There was a new store about the size of Bling, across from where I waited. The words "Head Gamers" glowed bright red in block letters above an open store front. A hand-painted banner proclaimed the store's "Grand Opening". With no windows or doors to block my view, it would be easy to spot Shelly when she came out of Bling. I decided to pay Head Gamers a visit. Pushing through the mass of shoppers wasn't easy. I was small and a lot of people didn't notice me trying to cross over to the other store. It was like playing a game of "Froger". After several minutes of backwards, forward maneuvers, I managed to pass under the Head Gamers sign and out of the human traffic. The store appeared to be empty, not even a salesperson was visible. The glass counter, to my left showcased various packs of cards and small figurines. I picked out wizards, warriors, and dragons along side a few slim, hard cover books. Everything was back lit in soft neon. The rest of the store was a mix of circular wire racks filled with comics and free standing displays made of cardboard, offering soft cover gaming manuals and fantasy posters. A well stocked magazine rack spanned the back wall. After pursuing the comics (they were all recent and not vintage) I abandoned them to stroll over to the magazine rack. Most of the mags were devoted to to gaming (what a surprise) or skateboarding, the rest were a mix of heavy metal, tattoo and guitar rags. I chose one of the gaming magazines to thumb through when I sensed someone's eyes on me. I put the magazine down and looked around. A boy stood behind the glass counter, beside the cash register. He was staring at me. In another moment he was striding my way like the pink haired girl had done. It was Bling all over again. "I know," I said as he neared. "No open bags in the store." "What ?" His face registered surprise. "My bag," I repeated thrusting it toward him. "It's ooo-pen. I could hide things in it and not pay for them." He stopped. Placing his hands on his hips, his face split in to a grin. "I think those magazines are a little big to fit in that bag." He laughed. "Besides, you don't strike me as the thief type. You're lacking the shifty eyes." "That's not how they felt at Bling," I said offended he didn't see me as a threat. Why? Because I was a girl. "They're too up tight at that store," he continued. They were really rude to my mother. We were working on getting the store ready to open and she went over to borrow a hammer. They practically chased her off. Can you believe that ?" I nodded. I could. "Soooo..." he asked, "are you looking for anything in particular? A CD? Pack of cards? Boyfriend?" "No." I laughed thinking he was kind of cute. "I'm just hanging out until my friend finishes shopping. You don't mind do you?" "Knock yourself out. Uh...I didn't catch your name." "Alex," I said extending my hand. "Alex Tetras." "Ian Sawyer," he said, as we shook. "Like I said, knock yourself out, Alex. Just yell if you need help with anything." He started back toward the counter then stopped to face me again. "You're into gaming, right." I blinked. "Gaming?" "Yeah." He pointed at the magazines. "You were looking at one of the gaming mags when I came over. It follows you're into that stuff." "Oh, I was only killing time waiting for my friend," I said. "Actually, I'm more of a comic book person, only none of your comics are vintage." "Yeah, The distributor makes us take the comics with the magazines. I told my dad they wouldn't sell very well but he said we get to return whatever is left at the end of the month, so it evens out." He paused. When he looked at me again, his eyes were alive. "Can I show you something, Alex ?" I studied him before answering. He was taller than Austin but with a slimmer build. His brown curly hair looked too wild for any comb but it added to his attractiveness. A pair of glasses in a black plastic frame balanced on his nose. That, along with his plaid, long sleeve shirt and brown loafers made me think nerd. Though he was the total opposite of Austin, I wanted to know more about him. "You want to show me something," I repeated, secretly pleased to spend more time with him. "You said you were into comics. The vintage ones." "Yeeaah." I stretched the word, unsure of where this was going. "Then you'll want to see these. They're over here. I promise it will only take a minute." Following him to the glass counter, I found myself aroused by the relaxed way he moved. He returned to his spot behind the counter. Sliding a glass panel aside, he reached inside and lifted out an oversize pack of cards. "I thought you would appreciate these," he said, opening the pack, spilling out it contents. I stared down at the litter of cards. "Go ahead, check them out," he said. I lifted one of the cards out of the pile. Holding it in my hand, I noticed it was smaller than a standard playing card. The back of the card done in earth tones had the word magic at the top and in the center of the card what I thought might be five colored stones. I turned the card over. There was an illustration at the top with text underneath, The art work titled "Jaya Ballard Task Mage, was done in the exquisite style of Frank Frazetta. It depicted a girl with dark hair in a black body suit. Brilliant "coils" of light looped loosely around her. I returned it to the pile and picked out another one This card titled "Combust", rendered in the same masterful style as the first card, showed a figure dressed in armor and mounted on a war horse. Combust's helmet was engulfed in flame. This time I read the text below the picture. It was instructions on how to use the card. "The artwork is amazing," I said placing it on top of the others. "I thought you'd like them," he said. "Looks like Frazetta's art doesn't it." I nodded, impressed he knew who Frank Frazetta was. "What kind of cards are these?" I asked. "The deck is called Magic: The Gathering. They've been around for a while. My parents are hosting a tournament tonight. It's part of our grand opening. I'll be there to help. You should come. I promise you'll have a good time. We start at seven." "Thanks but...uh... I don't know how to play Magic the whatever." "Not a problem. I can teach you." "And don't you need cards? I don't have any/ and they look expensive." "Again not a problem. We have a store full. I can loan you a pack." "I thought you were going to wait outside the store, Alex." I turned around. Shelly was striding toward me. A large bag with the Bling logo dangled from one hand. I could see the dark texture of fake leather through the semi-translucency of the cheap, plastic. She looked pissed. "I see you decided on the shoulder bag," I said hoping to lighten her mood. "Don't change the subject, Alex," she said. "When I couldn't find you outside the store, I thought I was going to have to page you." "Sorry," I said, "you were taking so long I came over here, then I got..." Uh...distracted. "Ian this is my friend, Shelly," I added, seeing the uncomfortable look on his face. "Nice to meet you, Shelly," Ian said, extending his hand to her. Ignoring Ian's hand, Shelly stayed focused on me. "I was going to suggest we get lunch," she said.. "But it's obvious you're too busy for that." "No," I said, knowing how irrational she could be. "Lunch sounds good." "I've got to go," I told Ian. I turned to hurry after Shelly, who was striding angrily out of the store, when Ian called after me. "Hey Alex." I stopped and looked back. "Think about my offer, okay?" I nodded. Waving a goodbye, I ran to catch up with my friend. "You know, for someone not interested in boys, you're doing a pretty good job of attracting them," shelly said, as we fell back in step with the mass of shoppers shuffling their way toward the mall's far end. "We were talking, that's all.." I protested. "Is that why he made you some offer." "He wanted me to sign up for some gaming tournament his parents are hosting tonight. It's part of their grand opening. Gawd, Shelly! You make it sound like we were making out or something. He was just trying to get people to sign up for this card game thing." "Sorry," Shelly said sounding more humble. "It's just...today was supposed to be our day, me and you." "It still is," I said wearily. "Let's go eat." As we neared the food court, my nose picked up a cacophony of aromas, The savory smells of seasoned ground beef infused with pizza sauce overlaid with a redolence of sweet onions spiked my appetite. My irritation with Shelly began to fade. The only thing on my mind now was what I wanted for lunch. Asian food was a rarity at our house though they were some of my favorite dishes so I was delighted to see the food court's newest addition was a hibachi grill, The Bamboo Express. Shelly opted for Mexican at El Taco Loco. We separated long enough to place our orders then reunited at an empty table to wait for our numbers to come up. Earlier I 'd noticed two boys our age, trailing behind us in the mall. I'd also seen them staring at us through the display window at Bling. Now they were watching us from behind the lattice that fenced off the food court from the rest of the mall. On the way back to our table, after picking up our orders,I nudged Shelly and then tipped my head toward the two guys. "Don't let them catch you looking," I whispered. "Who are they? She asked, keeping her eyes dead ahead. "I don't know. But they've been following us all day," I said. I sampled my lunch, while continuing to monitor the boys out of the corner of my eye, They were debating something, gesturing with their hands and shaking their heads. The way they kept glancing our way, I guessed it was about us. This gave me an idea. I leaned over to Shelly and whispered my plan in her ear. She nodded. We turned to face the guys, who were so involved with each other they didn't notice. "Hey boys," I called in the most girly voice I could fashion. "We've got something for you." Shelly said, when they looked. Together, Shelly and I planted a kiss on our palms and blew the kisses at the two guys. They scrambled away, their faces red with embarrassment. Shelly and I broke into laughter. I didn't think they would bother us anymore. "Boys are such chickens," Shelly said, still grinning. "It makes you glad we were born girls doesn't it." "Yeah," I said. "Who would want to be a boy." After we finished lunch and disposed of our trash, I fished my phone out of my purse to check the time. I was surprised to see I had a missed call. With all the junk in my purse I hadn't felt it vibrate. The caller hadn't left left a voice mail but the number was logged as Ronald Allen. "What's the matter?" Shelly asked. "I got a missed call from some guy named Ronald. "So?" Shelly asked. I don't know any Ronald." "Maybe it was a wrong number," she offered. "Maybe..." I echoed. Something in my gut told me it wasn't. Shelly laughed. "You don't look convinced. If it's bothering you, call him back. Maybe it's a cute guy that knows you from school." "I told you," I repeated, "I don't know anybody named Ron-ald." "Maybe he's an upperclassman like a junior or senior. He saw you in the halls and asked who you were and then tired to call you. The least you could do is call him back. "That's totally ridiculous," I said. "How could he have gotten my number. The only people that have it are you Abby and Brett." "Tyler has it." "So." "He could have given it to Ronald." "Oh. Pah-lease! You didn't want me talking to Ian but you want me to call this guy." "I think you should," shelly said. "Call him. Alex," shelly repeated when I didn't reply. She was almost begging. "Look, if I do can we drop this?" "If you call him back and I'm wrong, I won't say anything else about it ever again." "Fine," I said. I tapped the call log icon. Scrolling down I touched return call by Ronald's name. The phone rang on the other end as I waited for someone to pick up. After a moment a woman's voice came on the line. "Hello, Allen residence." "Hi, " I said. "Is Ronald there." "Are you asking for Ron??!!" The woman sounded confused. "Uh...yeah Ron." "May I ask who's calling." "Alex," I said, "...Alex Tetras. I'm returning his call." "How old are you, Alex?" Asked the woman "How old?" "Yes dear, what age are you." "I'm uh...Fourteen." "Really," she said, drily. "Mr. Allen, my husband is not here. Regardless of that its highly doubtful he called you. He's been at the Country Club since eight o'clock this morning with some business associates and I don't expect him back until late this afternoon. He and his associates plan to play a round of golf after their meeting. I would appreciate it if you refrain from disturbing us again, Miss Tetras. If you persist, I WILL NOT hesitate to report your number to your service provider. GOOD-BYE." This was followed by a loud click. I jerked the phone away from my ear, shocked by what happened. "What was that about?" Shelly asked. "I could hear her voice from over here. She was so loud." "That was Ronald's wife. Apparently, he's married." "Oh my God!" Shelly exclaimed. "You got a call from a married man??!!! He has to be a pervert. You need to be careful, Alex." "I doubt he's a pervert, Shelly." "Maybe not, but I'd still watch out. You might want to say something to you parents." "No way." Even as I said it, my mind was considering another explanation, that it hadn't been Ronald Allen that called. I'd gotten a call once the ID said was my brother, but it hadn't been. The caller was Colonel Benjamin Schwartz b.k.a. Frank. I was sure he'd used a spoof card to fake Tyler's number. What if this call had been from Frank. What if he wasn't done with me. He'd been unable to carry out his plan with me before because of the governments sudden pullout from Clarksville. But what if he was back to finish things - "Alex! Did you hear anything I said?" Shelly's voice cut through the murkiness of my thoughts. "I'm sorry... what?" "We need to go. Grandma just sent me a text. She's on her way. She said she was sorry to cut our mall visit short but something came up. I texted her back and said we'd meet her at the entrance of the mall." This was fine with me. After the strange call, all I wanted to do was go home. -The Day Lassie Went to the Moon- Something looked wrong when Mrs. Gartman pulled up in front of our house. Then it hit me --my dad's car was missing when he should have been home. Wherever he'd gone, I hoped he wouldn't be too long. I was uneasy about being home by myself. Shelly helped me lug the sleeping bags and air mattress to the porch, the falling temperature hurrying our steps. We stashed everything in a corner out of the way. When Dad got back, I'd get him to help me put them in the shed. I walked back to the car to fetch my overnight bag and thank Mrs. Gartman for having me over. Shelly and I said our good- byes sealing them with a hug. Though I was shivering. I waited for the Gartmans to round the corner, at the end of the street, before trudging to the house. When I reached the door, I inserted my key, alarmed to find it unlocked. My dad never left the house open. I thought of Frank. What if he was hiding inside. Suddenly, I was afraid. "You are such a chicken shit, Alex," said Practical Alex, poofing up. "No one is in there. Dad didn't lock the door because he went to the convenience store on the corner. He'll be back in a few minutes. Now go in before you freeze." Holding my breath, I slipped the key out of the lock and eased opened the door. "Hello?" I called, peeping inside. "Is anybody here? Dad?" No one answered. "See," Practical Alex gloated, "no bogey men hiding behind the door." She poofed out before I could tell her to bite me. I stepped inside. closing the door behind me. The room felt warm and welcoming. I stood under one of the ceiling vents allowing the heated air to blow directly on me to chase away the chill when a voice spoke from behind. "Well look who's here." I whirled around. Tyler stood just inside the dining room holding a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk. His mouth was turned down like he'd bit into something sour. "You scared the crap out of me!" I cried. "I'm so very sorry," he replied, the tone of his voice matching his facial expression. "Where is Dad?" I asked. "I don't know. He was gone when I got here." "And why are you home?" I demanded. "You're supposed to be at that Debs thing with Brooke. You've been bragging about it all week." "I was hoping you would ask about that," he said carrying his sandwich past me carefully setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "That kind of got ruined by your fat little nerd friend." "Huh? I don't have a fat nerd friend." "That fat bitch you and Shelly hang out with." "Are you taking about, Brett? I asked. "Yeah." "She's not fat. Maybe a little chubby but--" "Fat, chubby, who gives a fuck. It was her, I've seen her around here enough times to know who the hell she is. And Chrissy was kissing up to her like she was some kind of celebrity." "Tyler, that doesn't make sense. It couldn't have been Brett. First, she's not a Deb and secondly, the Debs hate my friends. They would never invite her to their party." "Oh it was her." "How? Why?" Tyler took a bite of his sandwich, looked at it, then dropped it back on the plate. "Who the hell knows. I never got a chance to ask." He shook his head. "The whole purpose of the party was to vote Brooke into the Debs but Chrissy kept running off with fatso into another room. It was like Brooke and I weren't there. After a while Booke called her dad to pick us up. Chrissy didn't bother say good-bye when we left." "Tyler, I'm sorry," I said. "Brooke didn't talk to me the whole way home." He was close to shouting. "She wouldn't look at me when her dad dropped me off. She acted like it was my fault." "I hate this place," he cried, swiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I hate Clarksville. I wish the damn place would blow away. I want to go back to California." With a sweeping motion he knocked his plate off the coffee table his partially eaten sandwich landing halfway across the room. Then he leaped to his feet and raced for the stairs. I heard footfalls above me followed by a door slamming shut. After I cleaned up depositing the sandwich in the trash and the glass and plate in the dishwasher I went up to my room. Maybe up there things would make more sense. Sitting on my bed I peered out my window. The shade was raised and I could see the steep roof of the Barnes house just above the window sill. The tattered shingles surrounded by skeletal branches seemed a perfect metaphor for Clarkville's future, which in fact was, there wasn't one. Above the trees, the sky was thickening with clouds. The weatherman had predicted snow for Thanksgiving. I thought we might get some tonight. If we did, I would get Dad to help me build a snowman tomorrow morning. This might be my last chance to experience snow. With the plant shutting down, we might find ourselves anywhere, even Florida or Hawaii. I began to feel antsy. I could go down stairs to see what was on TV but that would mean fighting with Tyler if he decided to watch something different (and he would for spite). With today being Saturday, chances were the programing would be sports.. (Yuck.) I decided to leave the television for Tyler. Grabbing my denim jacket I headed down stairs. I had other plans. When I reached the bottom of the stairs I was still unsure of where I was going. I could hear Tyler's voice coming from the dining room. He was talking to someone on the phone. I didn't stop to listen. I needed to be out of the house. It was even colder on the porch than brfore. The temperature had dropped several degrees since I'd been home. The once blue sky, now choked with clouds. cast a dull gray over the afternoon. I picked my way down the steps. Forging across the yard, gusts of wind slapped at my skirt and whipped my hair. The cold air stung my cheeks and numbed my hands. On another day I would have fled back to the warmth of my room but not today. Unmindful of my discomfort in the deteriorating weather my feet had their own agenda and I continued to shuffle along. When my journey ended, I was surprised to find myself standing in the knee high grass surrounding the Barnes House. I'd told myself I was done with this place so why had I come here? In the time it took to form the question in my mind, I knew the answer t. Like the photo album in my mother's dresser, the one that traced the life of a boy named John in pictures, the Barnes House marked John's end. I'd said good-bye to the John in the album and now I needed to say goodbye to the house. This was the last specter to haunt me. I needed to put it to rest. I broke free of the weeds to stand before the Victorian's dark shape, the jagged peaks of its roof towering above me, making me feel very small. I sucked in a breath and released it slowly as I looked around.. Everything was pretty much as I remembered, the warped steps with the treads pulling away from the risers, the tall columns with their flaking paint and stress cracks running down their length. The only differences were some minor repairs to the porch, New unpainted wood shared space with the original flooring and two new NO TRESSPASSING signs were now posted on each side of the front door. This suggested the city of Clarksville was responsible for the repairs. The idea of the Barnes house getting a makeover was a pleasant one. It might rob the house of its sinister presence and with it, its power. Too bad I wouldn't be around to see it. There was no point trying to enter from the front. A heavy sheet of plywood covered the door. Making my way to the back, I rounded the corner and to my delight found the back door had been removed from its hinges and now lay across two saw horses next to the back steps. A stack of lumber peeped from beneath a plastic tarp, underneath. I skirted around the obstacles and up the back steps into a gloomy interior. Inside were two more saw horses and a coil of orange extension cord,. How had I missed the activity over here? I should have heard the hammering and saws. Then it dawned on me, I would have been at school when the work was going on. No one was here today because it was Saturday. The city didn't work on weekends. Looking out from the kitchen doorway, the hall appeared as long black tunnel I knew it led to the living room. I wondered if the broken chairs and dirty mattress still littered the floor or if the workmen had cleared it away. I might check later but there was something I wanted to explore first. When I entered through the back door I'd noticed the workmen had removed a section of wall to reveal a hidden stairway. I worked my way past the rubble until I stood at the bottom of the stairs. Enough light filtered down from above to see they were in fairly good shape. I planted my left foot on the first step, It groaned but held. I put my right foot on the second step to found this one more solid. Then, one careful step at a time I began to climb. When I reached the topI found myself in a long hallway. Four doors, the fourth separated from the other three by a niche of the main staircase lined the wall opposite me. Something about the second door called to me. I decided to try that room first. The floor boards creaked so loudly as I started forward I winced at the sound, thankful no one was around to hear. When I reached the door and placed my hand on the knob and the door opened on rusty hinges. I found myself looking into a room that was strangely familiar. This was the room in my dream about Walter. The dusty floor, the faded wall paper, even the placement of the windows was exactly the way it had been in the dream. I crossed over to the windows I'd and peered out of in the dream, and there was the light pole Walter stood under when he'd come out of the fog to stare up at me. Across the street, another window,the one in my bedroom lined up exactly as in the dream. John had looked out that window at me and I, from my window, at him. Downstairs a floorboard creaked and I froze. When there was no other sound I relaxed. Creaks and groans were normal in a house this old. Then, as I turned back to the window, another board creaked. This was followed by a muffled thump...thump...thump. A chill ran through me. I wasn't alone. Suppressing the urge to run, I forced myself not to panic but to be still and to listen. Until I knew where the intruder was I risked running into them head-on. Concentrating on the soft footfalls as they moved through the house, I judged the sound to come from the hallway between the kitchen and living room. If I was quick enough, I could scramble down the back stairs and out the back door before they were aware of me. I heard a curse. It was a man's voice. The footfalls changed direction. Now they were moving toward the back of the house. If I planned on getting out I would have to act now. Without wasting another second, I sprang forward racing for the stairs. Just before I reached them a beam of light lit up the wall at the top of the staircase. I heard the bottom step groan followed by a thump...thump...then a pause. Whoever was had begun to climb the stairs. -I'm Made of Wax Larry What Are you Made Of- I needed to get to the ground floor and out of the house. With the intruder on the back stairs, the main staircase was my only way down. I remembered how precarious it looked the last time I was here. A part of it had been separated from landing deciding me to forgo climbing it for fear it would collapse. But with the intruder on their way to the second floor I was willing to take my chances. I weighed less than a hindered pounds. I thought the stairs should be able to support me for the short time it would take to descend them. I ran down the hall toward the niche and I swooped around the corner barely managing to grab what was left of the bannister, before I could tumble into empty space. The staircase lay broken on the floor below. My near fatal miss left my heart pounding, and my arms and legs trembling/ I thought I would cry, but there was no time for tears. I had to get out of the hall and out of sight. Forcing myself to my feet. I sped away from the stairwell, down the hall toward the last door. Finding it unlocked, I rushed inside. Like the other room, this room was bare, but unlike the other, this one had a closet. Thinking this might be a place to hide I opened the closet door and my heart sank. Shelving took up most of the space. There was maybe two and a half feet between the bottom shelf and the floor. Even as petite as I was I wasn't sure I could fit in that small a space. I heard footfalls in the hall then the squeal of a door forced open then the thud of it closing. The thumps continued down the hall ever closer. Whoever it was, was checking each room. He would be here soon. Propelled by fear, I squatted down forcing my body into the impossibly tiny space below the bottom shelf. Stretching my arm to its full length I managed to grab the doorknob and pull the door closed. It was dark inside and so cramped I could scarcely breathe. It wasn't long before my legs began to cramp and my neck ache from my hunched over position. It was difficult to breathe. Time passed and I'd heard no more footfalls, I wondered if the intruder was gone.. I was beginning to gasp for air. I'd have to come out soon. If I didn't I'd suffocate. Just as I was about to open the closet door I heard the protest of rusty hinges, followed by a thump...thump...thump. The thumps continued into the room then stopped very close to where I hid. I tensed. There was a light rapping on the closet door. "Time to come out, John," said a familiar voice. "Uncle Walter, here. You have nothing to fear from me. We have some things we need to discuss is all. The sooner we get to it the sooner we'll be done." "In a moment, I'm going to open the closet door," Walter continued, when I didn't reply. "But first I want to repeat that I'm not going to hurt you, not now nor was I when I met you at the school, though you hurt me." He chuckled. "You fractured my foot that day. I very nearly got apprehended as a result." There was a pause while he took in a breath. "You haven't made things easy for me, John. The stairs were quite a challenge. You see my foot hasn't healed so I'm forced to use a cane. Tm telling you this because if you run I won't I won't be able to chase after you. With my damaged foot it would be impossible. However there is a man waiting down stairs who is not as nice as me and he will catch you easily. This man likes little girls for all the wrong reasons. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Ye-yesss," I forced out the word. "Good," he said. "I'm going to open the closet door now. When I do I want you to exit slowly. Then we'll have our talk. If you do as I say, you will be free to go when we are done. Do you agree to my conditions, John?" "Yes." My voice almost a whisper. "Excellent," excalimed my Uncle. The door knob rattled and then the door opened and Uncle Walter peered in. He was leaning heavily on a heavy black cane. He looked even sicklier than he had at the school. Only a few yellowish strands of hair still clung to his scalp, so long they reached his shoulders. I found myself reminded of the Uncle Creepy character in Creepy magazine.. Bluish splotches marred his pasty gray skin while open sores festered on his cheeks and forehead. Though he was smiling, the tension around his eyes betrayed the intense pain he was suffering. "Come out...come out, Johnny," he said, stepping clumsily to the side, to give me room. I eased out of the closet, all my joints on fire from being cramped so long. "Take a moment to stretch," he said an amused look on his face. I stretched and then massaged my cramped muscles slowly working out the stiffness. "Better? Walter asked, when I finished. "It had to be very uncomfortable in that closet." I didn't answer. Unmindful of m silence he glanced around the room, his attention coming to rest on the window. "I think it would be easier if we sat down. The window sill should do nicely for me." He teetered over to the window, his tiny awkward steps reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin. "Perfect," he said settling into a half sitting half leaning position on the sill. "Sit down, John," he said extending a hand magnanimously toward the floor. I lowered myself gracefully as I could, keeping my knees together even though I was wearing tights. When I reached the floor I tucked my legs to the side, smoothing my skirt over my thighs. Walter watched, all of it, an amused smile playing across his lips. "That was impressive, John. Very lady like," he said. "Before we get down to business, do you know about this house?" he asked. "I don't mean what happened to you here with the virus. I mean before." I shook my head. "This is the house where the virus that infected you was conceived. The virus itself was developed in a laboratory, of course but I'm talking about the idea that spawned it. We christened it "Project E.D.E.N." I started to say I knew about Project E.D.E.N but something cautioned me to play dumb. I let my Uncle continue. "I've been interested in genetics since I took my first biology class in high school So, it was no surprise I made Biology my major in college. My graduate thesis for both my Master' and my Phd. was on genetic manipulation. That aspect of biology is still my passion today, despite, as you can see, has caused me no end of troubles." "What does that have to do with this house?" I asked. He was rambling. "Patience, John. Patience. I'm getting to that." He shifted positions on the sill, sighing loudly when he was done. "That's better," he said. "Now where was I? Oh yes. After graduation I took a position with Bio Corp as a research scientist working on developing fertility drugs. Though the job held some degree of satisfaction, my real passion remained in genetics. One day I received a visit from a gentleman who claimed he represented the Defense Department. According to this man some of the department officials had read my dissertation on genetic manipulation theory and were interested in having me do some work for them. Arrangements were made for me to present my ideas to a newly formed committee called the D.A.T. the "Division of Anti-Terrorism". Some time before the D.A.T. came into existence the government purchased several properties here. They chose Clarksville for several reasons. It was small and remote but most of all the residents tended to mind their own business. One of the purchases was this cul-du-sac It was the perfect setting because there was no risk of prying eyes. Though I suppose we could have met in any of the houses on the street, they were all vacant. The Barnes House seemed to be the most...uh fitting for what we were about. We met here several times over the next few years. It's a shame how the old place has fallen into into such disrepair. It was such a noble structure." He paused. Fixing his eyes on me he smiled. "Ironic isn't it that the place where everything began would be the very same place the story ends." Walter frowned. "Why such reticence, John? You use to be such a chatter box." I didn't answer. Instead, I eased up off the floor trying to gain enough height to see out the window in hopes of spotting my dad's car. If he was back I'd bolt out the door, down the stairs and home where I'd be safe. My dad could handle Walter. My uncle's eyes narrowed. "You're not trying to leave are you John? We haven't finished our business." I peered past him out the window. Our driveway was still empty. When I looked back at Walter he had raised his cane. "This is in case you think my warning about my friend was a bluff." He banged the cane three times on the floor. It was answered by three heavy thuds from below. "Three raps mean all is going as planned," he said, leaning on his cane again. "Two raps followed by two more means you decided to do something foolish like try to run." "Why don't you sit down," he said almost lovingly. " We're almost done and when we are you will be allowed to walk out of here unharmed." "Who's down there," I demanded. My uneasiness was turning into fear. "I want to know." "I'm sorry John but it's best if I keep that information to myself. I will tell you they are an old friend." "Tell me what you want," I said. "So I can go home like you promised." "Very well," said Walter. "But first you need to know I'm dying. I have a... condition... something I developed while I was incarcerated. It was my fault. Even in prison I was allowed to continue my research. Unfortunately, I had to use myself as a test subject. What you see is the result. It's why they released me." "What has this got to do with me?" I asked. If Walter was expecting sympathy he ws out of luck. "Your mother has something that could save my life," said Walter. "It was among the things she took away from your grandmother's house after the funeral. It's a metal box. You'll know it because my name is engraved on the top. Inside, among other things, is a large manila envelop stamped for eyes only in red, on the front I need you to find that box and bring me the envelope. There's a formula mixed in with the papers, it will enable me to reverse what's happening to me." I fought not to show surprise. I had the envelope tucked away in the bottom drawer of my desk. I remembered several pages of scientific notation mixed in with the letters from Dr. Swanson and Frank. The formula had to be one of those. "Let's say Mom does have this box," I said. "What's to keep me from going home and telling my parents everything. You'd go back to jail." "Why? " Walter said calmly. "What law have I broken? Talking to my niece? That's not a crime." "You threatened me. You said your friend would hurt me if I didn't do what you wanted." Walter laughed. "Your imagining things, John. I'm here alone. Just an old man that decided to visit a place from his past. It was coincidence that I ran into you." "I'm leaving," I said and meant it. "If your friend tries to hurt me I'll scream. My brother's at home and he knows where I am." The last part was a lie. I doubted Tyler would even hear me if I yelled but from the way Walter's eyes darted to the window and then back to me, I could tell he wasn't willing to take the chance. I got to my feet. "Wait," Walter cried. "There's something else you should know. It's part of the reason I came. I can help you. If you bring me the formula, not only can I reverse what is happening to me, I can do the same for you. I can reverse the effects of the virus. I can make you a boy again" "Even if you could do that," I said. "Why would you? You're just saying that to trick me into getting you want you want." "Am I, John? I could have easily entered your home when your parents were at work and you and your brother were at school and taken what I wanted. Why did I wait, at peril to myself knowing how fast my condition is robbing me of life. I did it for a chance to talk to you. Believe me, the former would have been a much easier, much faster route to the formula." "I don't know. Why?" I said. "Because I'm not the same man you knew as a child. Prison changes a person, even a prison with minimum security like the one I was assigned to. One of my duties there was to assist in the infirmary. Though I'm not a medical doctor, my knowledge of the human body is extensive. Anyway, I saw many men die under my watch -not that any of the deaths were my doing. My job was to help ease their passing." He paused and shook his head. Then he leveled his eyes at me. "Those men died uneasy, John. Everyone of them had wronged someone and never made it right. They all carried those wrongs with them into the whatever. I can still see the fear and anguish on their faces, in my mind." He paused again. Drawing in a deep breath he continued. "I don't want to die like that, John. When I pass I want to do so with my conscience clear. I can't do that unless I undo what was done to you. I was to blame and so it is my responsibility to make it right." "I need to think about this," I said. "Don't think too long," Walter cautioned. "Unless I stop what's happening to me soon, it will be too late, then any chance of you becoming male again will be lost. You have this one opportunity, there won't be another." "Let's say I do this," I said. "Find the envelope. How do I get it to you?" "When you have the envelope in your possession...." Walter smiled, and then told me what to do. * * * The girl in the mirror, with hair the color of honey bathed in sunlight, looked back at me through large blue eyes. Walter had offered me back my life as John. The girl in the mirror and I exchanged glances. Was this what I wanted.? I wasn't sure it was possible. I had searched for John in the photo album my mother kept in her dresser. I had found a boy there I might have known, long ago, but not any more. The "new John wouldn't be the same person. He couldn't be, too much had happened since then. I'd experienced things-- "You're wrong," said a distant voice I recognized as John's ghost." All of that will go away when Walter reverses the virus. It will be like none of this ever happened." "Don't listen to him," said the girl in the mirror. "If you do this, you'll throw away everything we worked for. You're happy as Alex, happier than you've ever been. Alex is who you really are. Remember what Mrs. Gartman said about serendipity. It's real. Everything that's happened, your dad losing his job at the university, moving to Clarkville, the run in with Bradley, it all happened to make you who you are now. It was your destiny. You were meant to be Alex." "That's bull shit," said John's ghost "If you stay this way you'll always be looking over your shoulder, worrying about Frank and the Rat Pack. You'll see them hiding in every shadow you pass. Do you want to live like that for the rest of your life. Walter's offering you a way out. Frank won't touch you as John. Neither will the Rat Pack. They're only interested in Alex." "Frank's gone," said the girl in the mirror. "The Rat Pack is gone. They all left. You'll be moving soon to somewhere far away, where you won't have to worry about Frank or the others ever again. Calrksville, and all the rumors about you will only be a memory. The best is yet to come. Don't let Walter mess this up for you." "You're John," cried John's ghost. "You can play at being a girl but deep down you know its all a lie." "You were never John," screamed the girl in the mirror. "You were made from his chromosomes but you were never him. You can never be him." The voices continued their clamor until I thought my head would split from all the madness. "Stop it," I screamed, clamping my hands over my ears. I burst from the bathroom. Fueled by a fury I couldn't identify I rushed into my bedroom and slammed the door. I tore off my skirt and tights and flung them from me. Then I ripped off my shirt tossed it aside. Clad only in my bra and panties I snatched the blanket from by bed and wrapped it around me. Then I carried the chair from my desk to the window. Staring out at the Barnes House I rocked slowly back and forth, while outside the window, it began to snow.