Jane Naked in SchoolThursday part 2
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M .1
When Brandon heard the announcement he went straight to Dr. Zelvetti's office. He managed to reach it before most of the other participants did. He was glad of that—it meant he'd have room to move. The less people around for this, the better.
"Ah, Brandon," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Come to join us in a little outreach?"
Brandon paused at that one. Come to think of it, that might help. But... "That's not why I'm here, Dr. Z."
"Really?" said Dr. Zelvetti pleasantly. She settled back in her chair, an expression of interest on her face. "So what does bring you here?"
"Jane," Brandon said.
Dr. Zelvetti looked around her office. At the moment, only two freshman and a junior were present. Even so, the office already felt comfortably populated. It was only meant to hold eight people at most; cramming sixteen in, plus Dr. Zelvetti herself, would be worse. Most importantly, however: "Well, I don't see her here, Brandon, but you're absolutely welcome to speak to her after she's undressed."
"See, that's just it," Brandon said. He ran a hand through his light brown hair. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Whyever not?" Dr. Zelvetti asked with admirable concern. Her hair had run to a greyish white and her face was streaked with lines and age marks, but she could still make a first-rate facade if she wanted to. "Only a year ago, Brandon, you would have been pleased to see her in The Program."
Brandon suppressed anger. "That's not particularly fair, Dr. Z."
"Doesn't make it less true," she shrugged.
"Yes, I would have," Brandon said. "Yes, I would've been thrilled to see Jane naked in school. I would've been wrong to feel that way. And I might not've admitted that back then, but I would've known it."
The two freshmen and one junior watched with unfeigned interest. Brandon Chambers was a bit of a public figure around Mount Hill High School: it had been he who, just over a year ago (thirteen months to be exact) had been one of the first eight students at Mount Hill High to participate in The Program. Even more, he had been paired with that insane girl Arie Chang—the one with the mysterious scars on her arms—and had broken up with his existing girlfriend (some girl named Jane Myers) and hooked up with his current one, Meredith Levine, during that single week. It was nearly impossible not to have heard of him. Gossip about him was even better.
"Why would it have been wrong," Dr. Zelvetti asked him.
Brandon frowned. That was a good question, and it was going to take some careful answering. "Because," he said finally. "Because, regardless of what's good for Jane, it would've been wrong. I know she's sexually repressed, I know she's far too uptight about it, I know it's probably going to do her damage in the future. Whoever she marries might just divorce her when he finds out about her sexual attitudes." Which were pretty simple—no sex before marriage. Obviously her husband, whoever he might turn out to be, would hardly have a problem with that, but Brandon didn't want to bet on who would win the first time that husband suggested oral sex. "But it's still her life. It's still her choice. If that's who she wants to be, then it's not our place to force her to be otherwise, no matter how bad a choice we think she's making."
"Very wise, Brandon," said Dr. Zelvetti, nodding. "Very mature."
"So you'll take her out of The Program," Brandon asked.
"No."
"But why not? You just admitted it isn't smart to force her to do something against her will."
"But you forget, Brandon," Dr. Zelvetti said. "I didn't force her to sign up. Her parents didn't sign her up. She signed up, of her own free will. She voluntarily consented to be put into a federally-sponsored program encouraging sexual education. And, as you've said, her education in that area is very lacking, A's in Health class notwithstanding. I felt, as her principal, that it would be in her best interests to second her interest in The Program and enlist her in it."
"But you did that last year, and she had to go to the hospital," said Brandon. "She just got out in August. She had a fucking nervous breakdown." The freshmen gasped at the sight of a student, senior or no, swearing in front of the principal, but Brandon didn't flinch. And neither did Dr. Zelvetti.
"In that way my course of action was merely confirmed," she said. "You know the rules as well as I do, Brandon. If a participant fails to complete their Program week, they must do it again. And again, if necessary. And again. Until they have completed it to the school's satisfaction."
Brandon stifled a resurgence of anger. It was far too close to the surface these days. "I've never liked that rule. What if people just aren't ready? What if they just aren't capable? We're not talking a normal, healthy sexual life, Dr. Zelvetti, we're talking about forced exposure, in high school—never the friendliest of places—and with a certain amount of coercion involved, especially concerning Rule Three. The participant is forced—forced—to confront his or her sexuality, whether they are ready or not. And it may just be possible that certain participants are not ready." He couldn't keep sarcasm from his voice on that one.
"Then they shouldn't've signed up," said Dr. Zelvetti with feigned carelessness.
"That's fair," Brandon said. "That's very fair. Anyone who happens to misjudge themselves gets chopped up in the meat grinder. Yes, Dr. Z, that sounds like a very good way to run a school. Shove them into the brick wall whether they want it or not."
"So that they can grow," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Were you ready, Brandon? But you persevered. You flourished. 'That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.' "
"And what if it kills her," Brandon challenged.
"It won't," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Jane is very strong, Brandon. Stronger than you know. Stronger, perhaps, than she knows. She is going through it, and that's final. And now some of the other participants are arriving, so unless you'd like to join us, I must ask you to leave."
"Brandon?" said a voice behind him. It was Jane—the same Jane as always: slumped shoulders, hazel eyes, a mass of clean but untended hair in honey and amber. "What are you doing here? You're not my partner, are you?"
"No, actually," said Dr. Zelvetti, "Brandon was just here to argue your case."
Jane's face closed in its second-most-common expression: anger. "What, to keep me in?"
"No, to keep you out," said Dr. Zelvetti. This startled Jane so much that she didn't know how to respond. Brandon saw it, and sighed. Clearly she still had a lot to learn.
He left the office.
Many of his friends were waiting for him outside the Homer building, the school's administrative wing. There was Zachary Crane, his best friend, in a buzz cut and perpetual grin, trading banter with Christa Sternbacher, his girlfriend. She was dressed in the bright orange jacket they always saw her in, and her dyed blonde hair was beginning to show its brown color at the roots. Sajel Malhotra, his other best friend, was with the two of them, a wicked grin lighting her features. As he watched, she slung her river of black hair over her shoulder with a practiced toss of her head. Arie Chang, the mysterious girl with the mysterious scars, was chatting with Derek Strong, her boyfriend (likewise picked up during their Program week over a year ago); her Chinese heritage showed in the shape of her face, the tilt of her eyes. And even Jeff and Stasya were there. Stasya, with her reddish hair and slight traces of Russian in her voice, was Meredith's best friend. And Jeff, quiet, with aristocratic features and a calm, spectacled gaze... Well, no one quite knew about him, but he was fun to have around.
Only Meredith was missing. Meredith, whom Brandon hadn't seen since the beginning of summer vacation, for reasons he didn't quite understand.
"How did it go," Christa asked as he came down the stairs.
"Bad," he said. "She won't take her out of The Program."
"That sounds like a dumb idea to me," Arie observed.
"This is the same Jane Myers we're talking about, right," Sajel asked. "What if it's a different girl with the same name?" She was joking—Sajel was rarely serious—but something about her tone suggested she meant what she was saying.
Brandon ticked off on his fingers. "Ex-girlfriend? Yup. Girl who was tighter than a bank vault about sex? Yup. Girl who asked me why anyone would actually want to masturbate? Yup. I saw her with my own very two eyes."
"Why 'very two eyes'?" asked Jeff. "Do you sometimes have three eyes?"
"Well, if you count only the one Meredith sees," Arie said. "The one on his trouser snake?"
Sajel snorted. "Terrible joke. Minus three respect points, Arie."
"I bet he'd like to see Jane with that eye," Zach said, grinning.
"Can we not get into that, please," Brandon said, mopping his face with his hands. There were times he appreciated his friends' banter. And there were times when he simply didn't want to deal with it. Now happened to be one of those times.
"How do you feel about Jane, Brandon," Christa asked him. "I mean, you spent a lot of the summer with her, so it's probably safe to say you care about her."
"Yeah, as opposed to with his girlfriend," Derek said.
"Hey, none of us spent time with his girlfriend," Stasya said. "Meredith was away at band camp for most of the summer."
"Yeah," Zach said. "Great. 'This one time, at band camp... ' "
"Even lamer joke," Sajel said. "Minus four points to Zach."
"Bad grammar," Zach retorted. "Lose a grade on your next English paper. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200."
"I missed out on two hundred dollars?" Sajel exclaimed. "Minus twenty respect points Zach!!"
"She was actually at band camp," Stasya said, attempting vainly to bring the conversation back on track.
"Maybe something wild and wacky happened there," Zach said. " 'What happens at band camp, stays at band camp.' "
"Minus five points," Sajel snorted. "And down another six if he makes another stupid quote in the next two minutes."
"Hey, I'm not saying Meredith had an alternative," Derek said. "I'm just saying it could look bad."
"It could, at that," Arie said.
"So, Brandon." Derek turned to him. "Let's have the straight line. What is it between you and Jane?"
Brandon was silent for many moments.
"I... Well, I care about her, obviously," he said. "And... I consider her a friend. And you worry about your friends. I mean, you all came to visit her in the hospital."
"Yeah, but not four days of seven," said Derek.
"Do you still care for her?" Christa asked. "Do you still have feelings for her?"
Brandon didn't answer, and that was all the answer they needed.
"So, what are you going to do?" Derek asked.
"About what?"
"About Meredith," Derek said. "We've been in school for four weeks and the two of you have barely exchanged five words together. And this is with the two of you in half your classes together. If you don't do something, you're going to lose her. So get your ass in gear, man. Soon."
"Now," Sajel said.
"Preferably yesterday," Jeff said.
Brandon said nothing. They were, of course, totally right. But the question was... What should he do?... If anything at all? Things with Meredith were so weird now. Sure, she was a better match for him than Jane, but at least Jane hadn't been actively avoiding him all these...
He was shaken from his musings by a flurry of commentary. He turned to see the first Program participants coming down the stairs.
And there was Jane.
Her Program partner was Scott Pleins, which Brandon was glad to see: he was a smart, intelligent guy, and he'd do well by her. And Jane didn't have the reputation Brandon did; everyone saw her as a smart, by-the-books student, straight A's and very traditional—Girl Scouts, church choirs, that sort of thing. Interest in her was casual but not malicious.
Of course, everyone knew she'd been Mount Hill's first Program participant to have a breakdown. And that brought attention. But it was, again, not malicious: everyone wanted to see, but no one wanted to touch. It was, noted a corner of Brandon's mind, the old stigma against any sort of mental problem—stay away, don't touch, it might be contagious. Gather around, view, see. Pay five bucks to see the schizophrenic man. She might as well be a circus sideshow.
They were scared of her, was the simple fact, because they couldn't understand her. And that, Brandon reflected, was just as well. Though being misunderstood could bring its own brand of trouble.
"You know," Christa said quietly. "I never believed she'd really do it until right now."
"Who," Zach asked. "Jane or Dr. Z.?"
"Dr. Z... But maybe Jane too."
Jane looked distinctly unhappy, but that was to be expected from a girl who had never worn a two-piece bathing suit before. She looked about the same as Brandon remembered: an expanse of pale skin, surprisingly wide hips and large breasts... But then, Jane had never dressed to impress. He remembered the surprise others had expressed at her physical assets. They had looked at him to solve the puzzle. As if he had known.
Jane looked unhappy but not mortified, which was a step up from the last time. She had signed up for The Program in late May and been rushed into participation the very next week. The entire two days before her breakdown she had worn an expression of shell-shocked confusion, like someone suddenly yanked into a bad drug trip: surely this must end, surely this must end. Well, it had ended, but now, it seemed, it was beginning again.
A few people crowded around to take advantage of Rule Three, the infamous "Reasonable Request" rule. Program participants were considered living, breathing examples of human sexuality, and any student who wished—within reason—to examine such a specimen, must be accommodated. This generally led to a certain amount of low-level fondling, with more intense contact limited to the participant's discretion, as he or she might or might consider it "reasonable." It also seemed to depend on the day: participants and bystanders alike seemed to get more and more adventurous as the week wore on, as time passed and everyone got more comfortable with sexuality. Right now it was Monday morning, so the requests were limited—a few people touched Jane's breasts as she walked by. Even this relatively impersonal attention bent Jane's face in displeasure, and Brandon sighed to himself.
This might be a long, bad week.
Jane saw them and descended to them immediately. Scott Pleins went to meet his own friends. This was probably against Program policy, but then Program policy was evolving. All Program participants were issued a 'partner, ' a fellow participant (generally of the opposite sex) who would act as their moral and mental support over the week. Obviously one's friend was one's best partner, but not all participants managed to bring a friend in with them. In such times, Dr. Z. would pair strangers together, as she had to, with two possible outcomes in mind: either the two partners would become friends over the course of the week, or they would simply ignore each other and rely on their existing friends. This case was obviously one of the latter: Scott Pleins was known to have a very close-knit group of friends, and Brandon knew his friends would accept Jane.
"Hey," Christa said, greeting Jane with a smile. "Second time's the charm, right?"
"Isn't it 'third time'?" Jane asked.
"No, it's whatever the hell number we feel like," Zach said, grinning. "Be happy she didn't say 'fourth' or 'fifth.' "
Jane frowned. "God forbid. What if I do have to do this five times?"
"I doubt it'll happen," said Derek. "If it gets that bad, Dr. Z. will pull you out of The Program. She's not stupid."
"She sure seems like it," Jane grumbled. "I already did this once, and I hated it. And now she's making me do it again."
"Why'd you hate it," Zach asked.
"Well, because," said Jane, and paused. "Because it's degrading, you know? Being forced to do things with your body that you don't want to. If they paid us for it, we might be outlawed for prostitution or something."
Brandon frowned. It was a pretty flimsy reason. He caught Sajel's and Derek's and Stasya's looks and saw he wasn't alone in his suspicion.
The simple fact was, Jane knew nothing about sex. And she didn't know she didn't know it. But it wasn't a case of lack of education, it was a case of willful ignorance. She didn't want to know. And now she was either going to learn... Or die trying.
"Whoa," said Arie suddenly. "Whoa whoa whoa. Oh god. Augh. That's more than I ever wanted to see of my sister."
They turned. There, indeed, was Trina Chang, Arie's 15-year-old sister, descending the stairs in a state of total undress.
"Whoa," said Zach. "She has pubic hair? Already? Christa, did you have pubic hair back then?"
"Why are you looking at my sister's pubies!" Arie cried. "You have a girlfriend!"
"Pedophilia," Sajel leered. "Minus fifteen thousand."
"Err. That's a big number," Zach said.
"Yup," said Sajel.
"Is that bigger or smaller than forty-seven?" Zach asked.
Trina was positively glowing. She had always been a cute, compact little thing, almost ornamental in her attractiveness—just the kind of bright, outgoing girl some jock might love to have hanging off his arm. But now she seemed especially pleased with herself. Why? Because she's naked? Brandon wondered.
"What's up with her?" he said aloud.
"Did you know she signed up," Sajel asked.
"Yeah, I knew," Arie said. "She had to sign up for the same reason I did." Arie, clinically depressed, wasn't always able to live up to the obligations of daily schooling—getting homework done, being upbeat and positive, getting out of bed in the morning—and had made a deal with Dr. Zelvetti, trading a week in The Program for a certain amount of leniency from her teachers. Trina had done the same. "But knowing it," she added darkly, "isn't the same as seeing it."
"She seems quite happy," Jeff observed, with just a touch of dry sarcasm to admit he was stating the obvious.
"She shouldn't," Arie said. "She's cuts, just like me. She's got scars, just like me."
"Are you sure?" Christa asked.
"Well, according to what she says online," said Arie. Both she and her sister were members of an Internet bulletin board, Candlelight Vigil, for depressed teenagers. Both of them also inflicted shallow, cosmetic cuts on themselves for purposes of stress relief and coping, a behavior known scientifically as "self-injury" or "self-harm," but generally called "cutting" by those who did it. The scars on Arie's arms were the reason she never wore short sleeves, even in summer, unless she was in the company of those few people she trusted.
Arie rubbed at her arms over her sleeves. At least, she thought, the number of people I trust is slowly going up.
"Yes, but, we know she likes attention," Christa said. "She might be just saying it."
"No, I've seen her do it," Arie said.
"But she doesn't seem worried," said Derek. "Arie's reception wasn't exactly friendly, and by all rights Trina should be facing the same thing. But she doesn't seem worried."
"Something's up," Brandon said.
"Stating the obvious, minus ten to Brandon," Sajel said.
"Hey, I do my best," Brandon said, feeling inexplicably tired.
Suddenly, the PA system echoed around them. "Would seniors Derek Strong and Meredith Levine please report to Dr. Zelvetti's office immediately. Would—" The recitation was pierced by the ringing of the warning bell for first period. "—seniors Derek Strong and Meredith—" It was Monday morning, and school was about to start.
"What's going on," Arie asked her boyfriend.
"I don't know," Derek said, "I haven't heard anything about it."
"Is she even here?" Christa asked. "She's been absent so much this year—I don't think she's made a full week of school yet."
"I guess we'll find out," Stasya said.
"Ooooo, Derek's in trouble," Zach leered.
"Dork," Sajel said.
"Here we go," Brandon muttered to himself.
"So, what did you think of the Hemingway story," Christa said, taking Jane in hand. They were in many of the same classes together and had been for many years. "Did you understand it? I had to look it up on the Internet before I got it."
"I got it," Jane said, leaping eagerly into the academic world: it was, by far, her specialty. "But I've read it before. The man's trying to get the girl to have an abortion. That's what the letting-the-air-in part is all about."
"Yeah, that's what the Internet said," Christa agreed.
"I wonder why Meredith got called in," Stasya said.
"Maybe to convince her to do something about Brandon," Derek said, giving that one a direct stare.
"Not likely," Brandon grunted.
"I wish," Stasya said. Meredith called Brandon 'the best thing that ever happened to me, ' and she was pretty sure the reverse was true as well. And if anyone was smart enough to know that, it was Dr. Zelvetti. That was why her bad judgment on Jane was so disturbing—none of them had ever known her to take a wrong step. Someone was desperately wrong about Jane... But if history was any judge, it wasn't Dr. Z.
"It's going to be an interesting week," she said.
"Tell me about it," Brandon said.
M .2
Derek was busy at recess, so Brandon wasn't able to ask him about the principal's appointment until lunch. They met, as they had for over a year, at the porch on the north side of Stetsen. It was a good location—easy access to food, to bathrooms, to lockers, to most of the rest of the school; and they could see people walking by and be observed in turn. Brandon had hoped Derek might have some news about Meredith, but his response was almost as interesting: "I found out where Faith Bennett went."
"Really now," Arie said. Faith had been Derek's Program partner in early May. She gave off every impression of being addled in the head: strange conversational jumps, easily distracted, unadulterated naïveté. Then, the week after, she had simply disappeared, and no one knew where she'd gone.
"Yes," Derek said, glancing at Arie carefully. Faith had needed a lot of guidance that week, and Derek's new responsibilities had almost torn him from Arie permanently. They'd managed to patch things up, thankfully, and now they were closer than ever before, but Faith had still been a trouble spot, and Arie was known to have a very long memory. It would probably be smart to tread lightly.
"Is that why Dr. Z. wanted to talk to you?" Brandon asked.
"Yeah," Derek said. "She just heard back from some friends. Faith got reported as a Missing Person by Dr. Z. back in May, and evidently someone matched her face to the picture on the milk carton. She's in Louisiana. She calls herself Helen Chase now."
"Wait, she... What?" said Zach.
"Yeah, that was the weird thing," said Derek. "According to the police, they look identical. We've got photos to prove it. But this Helen Chase wasn't half as scatter-brained as Faith Bennett. In fact, they say she was in total control of her faculties. She's living alone in an apartment, she works at a restaurant, they described her as..." He dredged the words up from his memory. " 'Charming and highly capable.' It makes no sense."
"Faith Bennett," Arie said. "Always a mystery."
"She's living alone?" Christa said incredulously. "Without tripping over her own two feet?"
"And this is the girl Sajel described as being a kindergartener," Zach said.
"Maybe she got dropped on her head again," Brandon observed. "Knocked things back into alignment."
"Will wonders never cease," said Sajel dryly.
"This makes no sense whatsoever," Arie said. "People like Faith don't just get fixed."
"No... The thing is," Derek said, hesitating. "It might make sense."
Everyone turned to him. This was something he had never told to anyone, so he chose his words carefully.
"Right when we were all getting dressed, on the Friday of my Program week, I mean... She came on to me," Derek said. "And I don't mean, 'Hey, she said something that could be misconstrued as hitting on me, ' I mean she really came on to me. She was totally... Totally conscious, she wasn't getting distracted, she... It was like she was a different person."
"Oh. My. God," said Zach. "She's schizophrenic."
"No, schizophrenia just means you hear and see things that aren't there," Brandon corrected. "Dissociative Identity Disorder is when you have multiple personalities."
"Well, why don't they just call it multiple personality disorder then," Zach said.
"They did," Brandon said. "Then they changed the name, because they decided it wasn't multiple personalities but rather dissociated identity."
"What's 'dissociate' mean?" Zach asked.
"It means Shut up, you're a moron," Sajel said.
"So Faith was faking it the entire time?" Christa asked.
"That's what it seems like," Derek said. "If so, it was quite an act. I don't know if anyone ever caught on, even Dr. Z."
Christa looked at Brandon's face, and for his sake said the thing he should've been brave enough to ask himself: "Do you know what Meredith got called in for?"
"No, actually," Derek said. "I got sent out before Dr. Z. talked to her."
"So she was here," Stasya asked.
A pair of eyes watched the laughter from far away. Only Jeff saw her: Meredith Levine, with sadness writ large on her face. "Speak of the devil," he murmured. Her eyes were on Brandon, but also on Stasya Fyodorevna, her best friend, and he suddenly realized what a bad idea it might have been for Stasya to have merged her friends into Brandon's group—now that she was associated with him, Meredith could hardly approach her.
Jeff saw her, but when his eyes met hers, she jumped a little bit as if startled, waved in a manner that was not half as convincing as she would have liked, and walked off. Jeff frowned to himself.
"Brandon, when's the last time you talked to her?" Christa asked.
"I... I dunno," Brandon said. "I... Well, we talked on Thursday. Remember, we were all heading out after—"
"No, not just chatted with her," Christa said. They had walked to their cars as a group after their various music practices had let out; it had been inconsequential banter, and while both Brandon and Meredith had been involved in the conversation, they had walked on opposites sides of the group and had never addressed each other directly. "When's the last time you actually spoke to her, not just talked."
Brandon's face closed. "... I think... Before summer. Maybe the day Jane had to go to the hospital."
"Maybe you should talk to her," Derek said.
Brandon sighed. "Yeah." I haven't been this lonely in... I dunno, longer than I've been alive? "I should."
"You should at least try it," Sajel said.
"You know, speaking of trying," Zach said. "What about you, Saje?"
"What about me, dingbat?" Sajel said.
"Well, let's see here," he said. "Arie and Brandon have been in The Program. Christa and I have been in The Program. Derek and Meredith have been in The Program. Stasya and Jeff have both been in it. And now even Jane's in it," Zach said. "So, that leaves, just... You."
Sajel said nothing, but her face grew grim.
"So, what about it?" Zach asked.
"Never," Sajel spat.
"Never?" Zach said.
"Never's such a big word," Jeff said dryly.
"Never, and you know darn well why, Zachary Howard Crane," Sajel snarled.
"Howard??" Stasya exclaimed.
"Thanks a lot, Sajel," Zach said darkly.
"Is it because of..." Christa said, trailing off.
"The same reason as Arie and Trina," said Sajel. "But worse." Sajel's secret, better kept than most, were the injuries she had sustained as a child. A rainstorm had blown a tree down on her bedroom while she slept on her stomach. Now her back was criss-crossed with scars. She had never had a date or a boyfriend in her life—and, as far as any of them could tell, she didn't think she ever would.
"Come on, it's not such a big deal," Zach said. "Look at Arie. She found a boyfriend."
"She's not covered in them," Sajel retorted.
"My arms are," said Arie. "They're like sandpaper."
"Yeah, well, my all of me is like sandpaper," Sajel snorted. "No one's gonna put up with that."
"Even your vagina?" Stasya asked.
"What?" said Sajel.
"You said all of you was like sandpaper," Stasya said. "And I asked if that included your pussy." It was time for some humor, as far as she was concerned. "Because if it did, then I could understand why nobody would want you. I mean, a pussy's gotta be smooth, right?"
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