A Whateley Academy Tale
The Transfer Students
by E. E. Nalley
Whateley: Saturday,September 30th, 2006
My life is pretty complex.
I have all the problems you’d
expect a seventeen year old to have. Well, ok, sixteen and a half, but that’s
only if you want to nit pick. My parents don’t understand what I’m going
through; come to think of it, they probably haven’t understood anything since
1980 or so. For the longest time I didn’t know what Mom and Dad did for a
living, and now that I do, I wish I didn’t.
It’s not easy being the child of a
superhero, let alone two.
On the plus side, my folks’ love of
their little team meant that my childhood friends and I never got separated.
On the down side, yep, you guessed, their parents are on the team too. As if
everything a teen has to deal with isn’t bad enough, right? Let’s toss in some
spandex and a hefty portion of megalomania. Well, Mark, Ashley and Charles
are an alright sort. We probably made an interesting little clique going
through elementary and high school. Time was, the kids who got uprooted and
traveled around felt alone. Now-a-days, the ones who don’t are in the distinct
minority. By the time we got to be freshmen in high school nobody we’d gone to
grade school with was around anymore.
Truth be told, that’s just about
fine by us.
I found mom and dad’s ‘work
clothes’ when I was nine. Of course I told my three best friends and a bit of
judicious pilfering later let us know our folks had interesting night lives to
say the least.
I guess a bit of introduction is in
order. Charles’ parents are Lightwave and Soldier of Fortune. He’s really
grown up into quite a young man; six foot or so, classically tall and broad,
pretty much the spitting of dear old dad. Poor kid practically grew up with
one of his dad’s crazy rifles in his hands, though he’d favored his mother in
many ways. He’d inherited her lighter, milk chocolate complexion and, like
her, wore his hair in dread locks. It’s how he got his nickname; Dredz. For
all that ‘bling bling’ he spouts, you’d think he’d be calling himself the Inner
City Avenger, but I’m not busting any secrets telling you the closest he’s ever
been to downtown is flying over it.
Mark, on the other hand, is your
classic sports kid; having parents like Linebacker and The Red Archer will do
that to you. While Mark wasn’t quite as tall as Charles, he excelled at just
about every sport he’d played, until his powers started surfacing and the
‘rents decided they couldn’t risk it any more. Really took the wind out of Mark’s
sails too, he was really on his way to a solid position in the Jock clique.
The boy band good looks and the yellow gold locks in the page boy didn’t hurt
either. Mark’s real talent is getting into your head, and not just with the
usual teen years mind games, either. Mom and dad aren’t too happy about their
son the mentalist, but Psymod is cool with it, and I stick with my boys.
And then there’s Ashley, or
Phoenixfire as she likes to call herself. Of course, I call her Miss Perfect,
but it’s really not her fault. Ashley’s mom is Magma and Miss Perfect is the
apple of mommy’s eye. Of us all, she manifested her powers first, and they
fell in near lock step to moms. The fiery aura, the super strength, yep, the
whole smash; right down to the flaming scimitar she can manifest. Unlike the
rest of us, Magma went looking for a bit of normalcy in her personal life and
snagged herself a banker’s son. With a body like hers, it’s not like you can
blame the guy. Ashley is a bit taller than me at five two and very quickly
developed into a younger version of super mom, add to that shoulder length
auburn hair, a devil-may-care attitude of life and C cups by eight grade then
wrap the whole package up in a designer name wardrobe and you’ve got the Home
Coming Queen in training. In a lot of ways it sucks being friends with
the enemy.
That would leave me.
I don’t suppose you’d let me skip
that part, huh? Well, it was worth a shot. I’m Lily, pleased to meet you and
all that. It’s tough trying to figure out a way to describe yourself without
drawing attention to all things you don’t like about yourself, or over playing
your own self perceived good side. I guess my best feature would be my hair, it
is midnight black and if I’d let it down would probably get down past my
shoulder blades. I don’t, though, as, quite honestly, the pony tail thing is
simple and quick. I like things simple and quick. I don’t spend as much time
in the sun as the others so my skin is really pale; translucent you might say
if you were inclined to be kind. I’m five foot just barely and, even at
seventeen, I’m still waiting on some regular ‘woman’ bits to arrive. If I was one twenty I’d be surprised.
Svelte. Svelte is a good word to
describe my figure. I do have nice hips, but up stairs is being coy to be
honest. I’ve spend most of my life hiding; hiding from my parents Falcon and
Tabby Cat’s collective reputation. I’ve been hiding from the embarrassment of
not being able to invite any friends beyond Charles, Ashley and Mark over for
fear of busting the ‘rents secret IDs and, of course, hiding from their
enemies. I’ve gotten so good at hiding I’m a real pro at it; I can generate
force fields that can bend light waves around me. Yep, I really am the
invisible girl. I toyed with Tiger Lily as a nick name for a bit, but Mom
wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Your Identity is your greatest treasure,’ she’d say over
and over. ‘Guard it with your life!’
So, let me introduce you to Wall
Flower. Don’t be upset if you don’t see me. There aren’t many who can.
It was our dabbling in the ‘rents
occupations that got us sent to Whateley. My powers had manifested when I was
ten or so, like the rest of my posse as Charles insists on calling it. We
started small, sneaking into our parent’s Training Center to practice. By the
time we were turning eleven I could stay invisible for hours at a time, Charles
could make shots that would turn his dad sick green with envy and Mark quit
asking us what we wanted for lunch.
Miss Perfect? She’d taken up
juggling; with tanks.
It didn’t take long for us to
become bored with just training. Not even determined twelve year olds can keep
a secret for very long. Once the ‘rents got wind of what we were doing our fun
time got to be another stint of working out. It didn’t take us long to figure
out we weren’t nearly as good as we thought we were.
It would only take one of the
‘rents to give us all a good thrashing.
But I will say this for those long,
hard hours, it made us realize that by having fun, we weren’t pushing ourselves.
And, brother, let me tell you, the ‘rents pushed us. They threw everything at
us; robots, lasers, pit falls, traps, death traps, the works. Their
sadism rewarded us with a much better feel for what we could and, more
importantly, couldn’t do.
Looking back on it, that was
probably their mistake.
A good teacher will tell you, you
can only ride a student for so long before he or she needs to ‘win’. Otherwise
the frustration gets so overwhelming that they give up and turn away from
whatever it is you’re trying to teach. So, our ‘carrot’ as it were was we had
to sneak into the base, with all of our access codes turned off.
And we did it.
It was a close thing, mind you.
More than once we almost got caught or tripped the alarms; but we knew that
place better than they did. It made us very full of ourselves.
That night, we’d all tossed aside
the plain leotards we’d been given and started making uniforms. We thought we
had graduated and were ready to look evil in the face and make them blink. Don’t
ask me why, but for some reason I thought I was being clever with the whole
Tiger Lily bit; faux fur bikini with this really cool tigeresque body paint
thing going on. I had to pad the top pretty heavily, but I don’t think I’d
ever looked that good.
Charles had this outfit that I was
sure was going to get us all shot. He was calling himself Ghetto Blaster and
he looked like he had a pressing engagement with a 7 Eleven to knock over. We
never really had a name for our little team or anything. We just got
together Friday and Saturday nights and stroked our own egos thinking we were
making a difference, I guess.
Nothing major, well, not at first.
It was all stuff the cops could handle; liquor stores and gas stations,
desperate people doing desperate things. But I like to think we saved a life
or three in all time of running around roof tops in our underwear.
Of course, there was that one time
where Charles nearly got arrested on the way to the robbery we were
trying to thwart, but that’s an entirely different story.
We just sort of worked our way up
the criminal food chain, one stick up man or dope pusher at a time. We didn’t
realize it at the time, but we were starting to get in over our heads and each
time we made it out alive and made that difference we wanted to so much, we
realized it a little less.
So that’s how we came to find
ourselves on a roof top at midnight, cold, but excited on a very early
Sunday morning. According to what we’d been able to figure out, the jewelry
store across the street was going to be the target of an honest to God Super
Villain. It never occurred to us to wonder why an honest to God Super Villain
would be knocking over a jewelry store like a petty crook. We were looking to
make our first major score!
“Man, this totally blows, yo?”
muttered Charles as our little stake out took a turn for the worse; it started
to rain.
“It’s not like crime only happens
in perfect conditions,” replied Mark, his eyes and mind intent on the darkened
store front below us. He laughed a hollow laugh. “What would your dad say
now?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Patience
is a virtue no soldier can be without,” he quoted mirthlessly. “Don’t be
tripp’n me with that whacked jive, Psy.”
“Do people actually talk like
that?” demanded Ashley as she did her best to find some shelter under the
overhang of the elevator shed. The fire bird was starting to look like a
drowned canary. With a ragged sigh I enveloped us with a force bubble that
would keep us dry.
“Are you sure this is the
right place, Psy?” I asked him, speaking a bit louder than I’d like to be heard
over the soft hum of the bubble. Mark nodded.
“This is the time and the place…”
he trailed off and started looking around, always a sure sign he’d sensed
something and was trying to narrow it down. “We’re being watched,” he finally
whispered urgently.
I quickly altered the bubble to
bend the light around us, making us invisible, a split second before what
looked like a beer can came sailing over the far side of the roof and exploded
into a brilliant ball of light.
The sudden change in the level of
light had me seeing spots, and, more importantly, was more than I could bend
quickly. The bubble was painfully obvious to anybody looking at it, and then
it collapsed under the blast of the grenade.
In between the spots were six black
clad shapes that charged in, fists wailing. My legs were kicked out from under
me and I was quickly pinned to the gravel of the roof. I tried to go
invisible, or throw up a force bubble to throw whoever this was on top of me
off, but every time I tried he’d hit me across the temple, just hard enough to
rattle my teeth and shake my concentration.
Charles scrambled to his feet and
whipped out this nickel plated, accessory clad thing that threw both a
spot light and a laser beam on whoever was on me, instantly costing me what was
left of my night vision. “Freeze, sucker!” he bellowed before one of the other
shapes came out of his blind side, neatly disarmed him, locked up one arm and
kicked his leg out from under him all in one smooth, fluid motion. The Ghetto
Blaster met the gravel like I did, and poor Charlie got ridden down face first.
Ouch.
“Charlie!” shouted Ashley as she
manifested that flaming sword of hers and made with a sweep that promised a closed
casket funeral to the guy on his back. But the blow didn’t land. Two of the
forms grabbed each wrist and tossed her straight up. A third evidently had
some kind of power of telekinesis as she was held up there. Denied any kind of
leverage, she was as good as caught.
Mark was kicking for all he was
worth in a karate sequence that would have made his sensei proud. The shape he
was kicking was just better than he was. His foot was always a moment or two
late, arriving where his opponent used to be. Finally he got wrapped up
and a complicated reverse, assisted by the guy who was holding Charles on the
ground.
Our collective goose was cooked.
And just when I thought it couldn’t
get any worse, it did. Dad flew down from the rain to land in the middle of
us. He gave us all one of those stern, disapproving authority figure looks
that only Falcon can before shaking his head. “Well, that was pathetic,” he
said finally.
The one on top of me growled
as she yanked the balaclava off her head, leaving her features still obscured
behind a domino mask. “Hi mom,” I said softly.
* * *
It wasn’t a cheery way to end the
evening as we sat, wet and miserable in the Conference Room back at our
Parent’s base, watching our hot chocolate getting cold. I’m honestly surprised
it could, as steamed as the ‘rents were over our little stunt. Sitting on the
sun would have been a bit cooler. “Of all the irresponsible, bone headed
stunts you’ve pulled, Lily, this takes the blue ribbon!” thundered Falcon.
“What on Earth do you kids think you were playing at?”
“Dad,” I started, but it wasn’t
time for us to stammer out an explanation yet. They still had a lot of
venting to do.
“And you, Charles?” rounded
Lightwave on her son. “What possessed you to go out in public looking
like a thug I should be beating up?”
“It’s cool…” started a fearful
Charles. Wrong thing to say.
“Cool? Cool!” she
shrieked. “Well, color me stupid! All those years your father and I spent
crawling out from that ghetto and seeing to it you got every chance we’d been
denied was a complete waste of time! Pack your bags, honey! We can’t be cool
if we aren’t illiterate, dope crazed gangstas!”
“You, young man,” growled
Linebacker as he towered over Mark, “are…”
“Grounded for a month, yes sir,”
finished Mark before he’d clued in on we should be letting them vent.
“Two!” spat the Red Archer. “Mark
you’re more intelligent than this! You could have all gotten yourselves
killed!”
“And what in heaven’s name
possessed you to go trouncing out in that outfit?” Mom wanted to know. Ok,
I’ll admit it; I couldn’t help it anymore than they could.
“It’s one of your old ones…” I
started.
“Don’t change the subject my girl,”
she told me fiercely, her slightly emphasized canines making her look even more
fearsome. “No daughter of mine is going about with that kind of skin on
display!”
“But Mom,” I protested. “I could
make two of your uniforms out of mine…”
“You are not going to be seen
fighting crime in that out fit, young lady, that’s final!” she snapped. There
was a long pause as what she’d said sunk in. She hadn’t said I couldn’t fight
crime; just that I couldn’t do it in one of her old outfits. As I looked up,
real hope in my eyes, I saw her suppress a smirk as she turned to Dad.
“Well, we’ve gone on about what you
did wrong, let’s talk about what you did right,” he said. “Following
the leads we planted was well done. I’m honestly surprised you put that heist
together so quickly and on the first try.”
“Good spot to pick for the stake
out, too,” put in Soldier of Fortune. “Using your powers to stay dry was
stupid though. There are plenty of devisers who can build gadgets to detect an
active power.”
“What I’m most concerned about is
your lack of discipline,” was Magma’s entry into the conversation. “You used
Charlie’s real name, Ashley. You should know what a major no no that is. Did
you even come up with hero identities? Or were you just raiding our closets
for the fun of it?”
“I’m Phoenixfire,” she said
softly. “Mark is Psymod, Charlie is Ghetto Blaster and Lily is Tiger Lily.”
“Not anymore!” snapped both Mom and
Lightwave in chorus. “Your identity is your most valuable asset, Lily. You
have to protect it.” Mom went on.
“And no son of mine is going to be
Ghetto anything,” put in Lightwave. I couldn’t keep in a snicker at his
predicament.
“Told you, Dredz,” I whispered.
Soldier of Fortune wiped his chin
thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose that would do any harm,” he said after a moment
and made a placating gesture to his wife. “The boy has to be his own man,
love. We can be a little flexible here.”
Lightwave crossed her arms and
stuck out her lower lip. “Fine. I don’t suppose I can complain about Dredz.
Maybe I can get a refund on that tuition we paid for all that private schooling.
Seeing as how the boy can’t spell, evidently it was wasted.”
“Which brings us back to the
subject of you, young lady,” said Mom with one her more fearsome cat eyeing the
mouse stares. “Not only are you using one of my old uniforms, which ties you to
me, but you put your real name in your secret identity. From now on, you are…”
and she trailed off, obviously struggling for the right turn of phrase.
“Wall Flower,” put in Dad with a
rye grin. “I can see you were trying to be clever with your name, Lily. And,
with your power set, that suits you while being clever. As to uniforms,” he
said, taking a remote control from his utility belt and pointed it at the
trophy room safe on the far wall. It obligingly slid open, revealing four
mannequins wearing identical uniforms.
They were all white and black, with
matching peaks front and back in white while the sleeves and shoulders were
black. The pants were black with a wide stripe of white on the outside seams
that disappeared into black boots with white cuffs on the tops, knee high for
the boys, thigh high for the girls. White mid forearm gloves and black domino
masks completed the ensemble.
On the chest of each uniform was a
gold four pointed star that was trimmed and encircled in black. “Welcome to S.T.A.R.
League,” said Falcon with great ceremony. Before we could run over and check
them out, he held up a gauntleted finger. “There are some provisos before you
get these, so you’d best listen carefully.”
Soldier of Fortune walked over to
the cases, four matching utility belts in his hands that he placed before each
as he spoke. “These are all made from a version of Nomex I’ve altered in
house. They’ve been impregnated with Kevlar and a micromesh of Titan Wire.
They’re completely bullet proof up to about .50 caliber or so, fire resistant
to temperatures that will likely kill you before the suit is harmed and
impervious to cuts and stabbing weapons.” He chuckled. “I when through about
60 needles each making them. Phoenixfire, yours will allow your fire aura to
pass through, as well as allow you to summon your Fire Blade. Psymod, I’ve
coated the inside of your suit with biomedical relays that should make the suit
a larger antenna for your mental powers. It should double your range on your
telepathy as well as allowing your teleportation powers.”
“Lily,” he went on. “Your suit
will not interfere with your force fields. It also has the leads built into
that should allow you to direct your force fields better, making it easier for
you to fly.”
“The same goes for yours, son. As
you picked up some of your mothers tricks with light, they’ll pass through the
suit harmlessly and you should find them easier to focus. The utility belts
all have matching sets; radio ear buds, power inhibitors, plastic handcuff
strips with a couple of other tricks; smoke pellets, tire deflator caltrops
things like that.”
“And a homing beacon that will tell
us whether you’re wearing them or not,” finished Magma with a fiery glance at
her daughter. “If you want to do this, you do it our way or not at all.”
Falcon planted his gauntleted fists
on his hips, subconsciously striking a heroic pose. “Our way has no
exceptions. First off, if you’re going to be super heroes, you’re going to
learn to do it right. We’ve taught you the basics, it’s time for your hone
what you’ve learned in a place that’s set up for people like us.”
“Whateley Academy,” interrupted
Linebacker. “You want to run in the big leagues, you start in the minors. The
suits stay on all the time, except when you’re asleep so we’ll know if
you’re ducking class or taking stupid risks.”
“They’re keyed to your individual
biopatterns too,” was Soldier of Fortune’s comment. “So don’t try to be coy
and get some of your classmates to help you cut out.”
“Do we have a choice?” muttered
Dredz. His dad only chuckled and took out a bracelet he tossed on the table.
It looked like a wristwatch, but I was pretty sure it went way deeper
than that.
“Of course,” he said brightly.
“These are power inhibitors. Pretty standard stuff the Feds put together for
supers on Probation. They lock and nothing will get them off. It’s
either Whateley or you wear these till you’re eighteen.”
“So, no, we don’t have a choice,”
said Mark softly. “When do we leave?”
* * *
For an organization as well off as
S.T.A.R. League, it was rather surprising how we got to Dunwich. We took the
train. It was only a couple of hours from Providence to Dunwich by Amtrak,
hours our folks decided to spend with us individually. I don’t know how the others
trips went, but mine was a night mare. Once Mom and Dad were sure we wouldn’t
be bothered again, they got that parent fidget that let me know something major
was up.
“Lily,” started Mom which pulled me
away from admiring the New England Fall. I’d always admired Mom, in a lot of
ways. Her own powers had affected her, making her more like her name sake than
I think even she realized. She had her contacts in to cover the yellow cats’
eyes that were her natural pair and if she was careful no one noticed the fangs
her canines had turned into. For the trip she’d worn a black velvet sweater
and pants that clung to her like a pelt. “Lily, the time has really come for
you to know some things that we’ve kept from you.”
I couldn’t keep in a dry chuckle at
that. “What could possibly be more upsetting than learning what you two do for
a living, Mom?”
“I’ll handle this, Tabby,” dad told
her. “Lily, The Power touches all of us in different ways. Some of us don’t
adapt well to what it does, but we keep going. Your mother and I want you to
know that no matter what happens; we love you.”
Ok, now I was worried. When the
‘rents toss out the ‘we love you’ line, something major was in the works. I
swallowed fearfully. “You’re getting a divorce?” I asked hesitantly. Dad was
taken aback.
“What? No! What ever gave you
that idea?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Way to go,
Robert. Lily, this isn’t about your father and me. It’s about me and some of
the things that I had to deal with that, well; you might have to as well.”
Now that I could be relieved I
wasn’t about to go through the much dreaded D word, I could allow myself to be
curious. “Like, what, Mom?”
“Lily, there isn’t any way to say
this, honey, but I’ll do my best. When your father and I were at Whateley, we
were in different cottages, what the school calls its dorms.”
“I was in Twain,” supplied Dad with
some note of pride.
“As in the writer?” I asked
hesitantly. Mom beamed, and with her teeth that’s not always a good thing.
“You always were a good student,
Lily. Yes, all the cottages are named after authors. Twain Cottage was where
a good number of the A crowd hung out, and nearly all the schools male athletes
were housed there.”
“It’s where I met Bill,” Dad said,
meaning Mark’s father, Linebacker.
But this wasn’t about Dad I could
see. Mom’s body language was really playing up her discomfort with the
situation and its topic. “My cottage,” she said softly, “Was Poe. This
mustn’t leave this car, dear, but Poe Cottage is a Coed dorm where the school
houses all those whose powers or…lifestyle… choices meant they needed to be
separated from the rest of the students.”
This through me for a loop, I must
say. “But…” I stammered. “You’re not Gay…” I trailed off, suppressing the
image of my parents making out with all my strength. “At least,” I said, not
sure what I could say to this new revelation, “I’m not Gay!”
“I wasn’t Gay then either,
technically,” she said softly.
“Then I don’t get…”
“Lily, when I first arrived at
Whateley,” she told me, over riding my protestations, “My name was Thomas, not
Tabitha.”
“What?” I shrieked. I
honestly expected mom to get angry and tell me to keep my voice down. She
didn’t, she just looked like I probably did when I knew I’d let them down. And
that made it awfully, terribly, real.
“There’s more,” she whispered.
“What happened to me was actually more common that most realize. My powers
were built around grace and agility, not strength and, what they tell me is in
my mind’s eye, I couldn’t be graceful as a man, so…” she made a vague gesture
at her figure.
I’ve always been a touch envious of
mom’s figure. It’s true when they say there’s almost no such thing as an ugly
Super Hero. And mom’s figure was dynamite; she curved in all the right places
and she could be sexy just sitting and reading a book. I was getting
frustrated waiting for some of those gene’s I’d inherited from her to get busy
on me, to be honest.
“We knew,” said Dad, making a point
of putting his arm around Mom and hugging her. “The odds of our child being a
mutant were practically a sure thing. We hoped that we could give that
child, you Lily, a fair shot at life. We were extremely careful while
Tabby was pregnant.”
“I went out of my way to be careful
of using my abilities once I knew I was pregnant.”
“We saw specialists,” Dad told me.
“We knew any number of devisors and just about every super science type and we
consulted with all of them. Despite this, there were some complications with
your birth.”
I’d never given any thought to how
ugly a word complication is. My heart was in my throat as I whispered,
“What complications?”
“It’s my fault,” moaned Mom as she
buried her head into one of Dad’s beefy shoulders. He hugged her hard enough
to pop her back and I began to get past worry and into real, honest to God
terror.
After a moment, Dad said, “Lily,
when you were born, the doctors really didn’t know what to make of you. Back
then, bilateral hermaphroditism was pretty rare.”
“Wha…what?” I asked, feeling every
more fearful and confused. Falcon is a pretty straightforward guy. Those were
mighty big words for him to be tossing around and that had to mean bad things
for me.
He sighed. “When you were born,
honey, it wasn’t really clear what your gender was. You had a vaginal
opening and a penis.”
Oh gross. I thought I was
going to be sick. No, I knew I was going to be sick, but it just
wouldn’t start. I sat there, staring at them as I rasped, trying to will
myself to throw up and make this nightmare go away. Dad soldiered on, being
brave, far braver than I could be. “There were a lot of other tests, and they
finally were able to determine with a sonogram that of your two sets
of…reproductive organs…your uterus and ovaries were far more complete. We…you
mother and I decided that it would be best for you to grow up believing you had
had a normal delivery as a girl.”
My temples were throbbing. This
was more than I could deal with. “And what could possibly have changed your
minds now?” I shrieked, hurt, fearful and betrayed.
“Your powers are manifesting,
Lily,” cried Mom. “It may well be that you’ll have to go through what I did.
I’m so sorry honey, I never meant…”
“No!” I shouted. “NO! I like
being a girl! Ok, so my boobs haven’t started yet but I menstruate,
Mom! I have since I was twelve! Don’t you remember?”
At this point, Dad tried to say
something, but I couldn’t take any more. My head felt like my brain was trying
to drill its way out through my temples. I snatched open the compartment door
and ran. After about two minutes I ran out of train, but that didn’t stop me.
I just opened the rearmost door and jumped.
* * *
I’m not sure how long I just
hovered there, above the rail road tracks and wept. As if things could get any
worse, right? Was I going to sprout hair in all sorts of disgusting places
now? A shudder ran through me at the thought of having to shave my legs and
my face.
So I just hovered there, about
twenty feet above the tracks and I resolved not to let that happen. I
didn’t know what I’d have to do, but if I’d gone under the knife once, if the
little thing grew back, I’d just do it again. It was the 21st
Century for the love of Pete! Science had to offer some remedy.
Having a course of action made it
easy for me to finally get my emotions under control and try to figure out
where I was. It was pretty, where ever it was, hill sides covered in red/gold
autumn in all its New England glory. My watch told me it was noon and my stomach rolled in protest of flying for this long on empty.
As I was deciding what to do about
it, Dad’s voice from above me brought me back to reality even as that gray and
white costume of his dropped out of the sun. “How’re you doing, kiddo?”
I sniffed. “Pretty good for having
my life fall apart around my ears,” I told him.
“I know we hit you with a lot back
there, Lily. I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to beat this, dad,” I
told him, my voice, normally so insecure in its contralto filled with something
like iron. “They cut the thing off once. If it grows back, they can damned
well do it again.” He chuckled as he gave me a hug, mid air.
“That’s my girl. We didn’t want to
tell you all that, Lily. But, as there’s a chance of it, we thought better
safe than sorry. Now you know what to look out for. There are some great
doctors on the staff there at Whateley. We’ll keep an eye on it and if we can
beat it, we will. Whatever happens, we love you, sweetheart.” He gave
me a wink through his mask and touched his radio control on the back of his
gauntlet. “Psymod, bring us home.”
Mark had teleported me enough to
make me ready for that sick sensation of being pulled along though my navel and
suddenly we were in the train again as if nothing had happened. “Thanks,
Mark,” Dad told him with a clap on the shoulder.
He gave me a grin that spoke
volumes. “Anything for a friend.”
* * *
By the time Dad was back into his
Armani double breasted jacket and turtleneck, we’d arrived in Dunwich. If I’d
thought Providence was a Podunk town, I was in for a rude awakening. By
comparison, Providence was metropolitan center of culture and learning.
Dunwich was probably only about two square miles and from the looks of things,
was very much stuck in the 19th Century.
I’ll bet they rolled the streets up
at nine, too.
“This is it?”
demanded Ashley with a disbelieving smirk to her lip.
“Yes,” Magma informed her. “You’ll
be able to come home for the holidays and such, don’t worry. And there’s
always summer break.”
“Dudes,” proclaimed Charles with
great formality, “We have officially died and gone to hell.” A scathing glance
from his mother let him know that silence was definitely golden just then.
Further conversation was halted by the arrival of a young man in a black blazer
whose breast pocket was emblazoned with a complicated coat of arms.
He didn’t say much, and to be
honest, the ‘rents didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood just then anyway. The
porters took the bags to a minivan the young man was driving and we sat in
silence for the ride to the school. Dunwich couldn’t even support a stop sign,
let along anything as modern as a McDonalds, but I noticed on the way in there
were three drug stores. I suppose that says something about the Modern
American way of life.
The covered bridge looked like it
dated back to the days of Ichabod Crane and was only wide enough for one
vehicle at a time. It creaked like it was only standing from force of
habit.
Bridges don’t normally bother me,
but I was certainly glad to be on the other side of it.
The country side was very picturesque,
the kind of stuff you see in post cards bragging about New England and in full
fall regalia you’d think there’d be more tourists on the road. As it was, we
only passed two other vehicles and one was a horse and buggy. That power
inhibitor bracelet was starting to look more attractive every passing second.
Eventually we turned onto a private
drive, winding up a hill towards the school whose ivy covered facades I could
make out. We came to a stop before the largest of the buildings that was watched
over by a dour statue of a man in strange clothes holding a book. The famed
Mr. Whateley I presume.
There was a woman waiting for us
whose beauty shone through the tastefully conservative business suit she was
wearing. She looked to be about mom and dad’s age with yellow blonde hair and
the bluest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. She offered a hug to all of our
parents and was obviously on a first name basis with them. “Robert,” she
purred in a voice that bespoke a perfect pitch and timber. “It’s been too
long.”
Dad, for the first time in my life,
looked sheepish, even slightly unsure of himself. My dad has shared a platform
with three Presidents, five royal families and at least six alien beings that I
know of. Not once in all that kind of company did he ever look
sheepish. “Mrs. Carson, it’s good of you to make arrangements on such short
notice.”
“Anything for an Alumnus, Robert
and you ought to know by now my name is Elisabeth.” She switched gears and
hugged mom. “Tabitha, you’re looking wonderful dear. Welcome.”
“Elisabeth,” greeted mom around the
hug. “You can’t know what this means to us.” The two women separated so mom
could plant a hand on my shoulder to present me to the evident Queen of
Whateley. “This is our daughter, Lily.”
“Lovely,” she told me, offering a
hand shake that was warm, firm and yet somehow evaluating. I got the feeling
I’d passed.
“Lily,” Mom said, “This is Mrs.
Elisabeth Carson, Headmistress of Whateley Academy.” In short order the other
members of my posse were introduced and all the ‘rents seemed to have this
strange love/respect/fear thing of Mrs. Carson. The introductions out of the
way, she gestured to the young man who’d driven us here to collect our luggage
and swept us all inside to her office.
What I had taken for a contemporary
of my parents was, judging by her office, quite incorrect. Just from looking
at some of the diplomas on the wall showed dates that would be impossible for
someone as young as she appeared to be to have earned. And somehow I didn’t
think they were fakes.
She poured coffee for the adults
from a sterling silver service on a low book case and passed the bone china
cups with the air of a very competent hostess. Beyond the book case was a
cleverly concealed dorm fridge from which she removed several cans of pop for
us prospective students.
It was even grape, my favorite.
“So,” she drawled, the queen secure
on her throne behind the desk once more. “We have four, wonderful new students
for our year.” Mrs. Carson cocked her head at dad. “Sophomores? That’s
splendid and just in the nick of time. You’ll have missed all that boring easy
stuff in the beginning, ready to jump right into the heart of learning.”
A quartet of groans filled the
office.
“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that,”
she admonished us with a musical laugh. “I don’t have any dorms that have
sufficient room for you all just now,” Mrs. Carson mused thoughtfully, one
perfect index finger pressed against her sculpted full lower lip. “And there
are Tabitha’s legacy considerations from Poe.” She nodded, having made some
decision. “It’s probably best that you be split up for sleeping arrangements.
You have the look to me of friends on the verge of being siblings. That’s not
healthy. Lily, you’ll be staying in Poe Cottage, in honor of your mother’s
time there,” she said softly, her voice full of secrets kept. “Charles, you
have a legacy issue as well from your father so you shall reside in Twain
Cottage. Alas, Bill, I know you would like to have young Mark take up your own
legacy, but we haven’t the room in Twain. I’ll have him assigned to Emerson
and we can work things out next year.”
“Emerson?” he asked with some
amount of dismay. “My boy with those egg heads?” Mrs. Carson’s cornflower
blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. I’d never seen Linebacker back down from
any kind of fight so I had a bubble ready to go, but, to my intense amazement,
he just meekly said, “Next year then.”
“Which brings us to you, Ashley,”
Mrs. Carson said, all smiles once more. “I have an opening in Melville and I
think you’ll do nicely there.”
“If it’s all the same, Ma’am,” said
Ashley and I had to give her credit; I sure didn’t have the guts to speak to
this Super Teacher. “I’d like to room with Lily.” I felt my mouth open up in
shock. Sure, Ash and I had been friends for a while, but to hear that from her
made me feel warm all over.
“It’s not all the same, dear, I’m
sorry. Perhaps next year when you return we can work something out. For now,
your parents and I have some exciting paperwork to fill out. You all will find
some student guides to take you to your perspective Cottages and once you’re
settled, we’ll get you all back together for dinner before they catch their
train.” There was something in her tone that didn’t broach any kind of
argument so, not sure what else to do we stood up and filed out.
There were four other students
waiting for us; the most striking of which was an angelic figure of a girl who
towered nearly a full foot over me. She smiled through the soft glow that
seemed to surround her and held out her hand. “You must be Lily. I’m Mary,
nice to meet you.”
She had a nice handshake, but there
was something off about her hands. I got the feeling I probably could pick her
up with out too much effort. “Pleased to meet you,” I told her, wondering
which of the reasons for her to be in Poe Cottage had been her luck to draw.
“These are my friends,” I started but the other girl of the group gave me a
withering glance and practically dragged Ashley out. “What’s her problem?”
Mary only smiled. “Don’t mind
Cathy, it’s just her time of the year.” She glanced down at the black and
white thigh high boots of my uniform I’d worn over my jeans and sweater. “Nice
boots,” she making me blush a bit as I pushed the sweater’s sleeves up to my
elbows from habit.
“Not exactly made to walk in, but
I’ll get used to them, I guess.”
The boys gave at least a civil nod
to Mary with a pair of, “Catch ya later, Mary’s,” on their way as they led off
Mark and Charles in opposite directions. That left me alone with Mary in the
corridor.
She noticed my concern and laid a
hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry; I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for me
to meet your friends. For now, let’s get you settled. I’m going to be your
room mate,” she told me as she led the way in the direction Cathy had dragged
Ashley.
“Oh?” I asked a bit nervously. Her
hand was back on my shoulder and it was becoming a little disturbing how
‘touchy feely’ she was.
“Mmmhmmm,” she told me seemingly
oblivious to my discomfort. “They give you a code name, yet? Mine’s Angel.”
“Wall Flower,” I told her, taking
what I hoped was a discrete step closer to the edge of the winding brick trail
we were walking. “So, I’m guessing you fly.”
“These aren’t for show,” she
chuckled. “How about you?”
With a thought I bent the light
around me. I became visible once more and held out my hand to form a bubble
about the size of a gazing ball. “Force fields,” I told her with a smile and a
goodly bit of pride at the stability I’d been able to achieve.
“Neat,” she complimented. “How big
can you make it?”
“About six feet in radius is the
biggest I’ve done so far, but it takes a bit out of me. Saved my friends and
some people who got caught in a building collapse.” Her smile became a knowing
smirk.
“Oh, I see a Cape Squad member.”
“Sorry?” I asked her, somewhat
confused. She chuckled.
“The Cape Squad, it’s one of the
cliques around here. I think their official title is Future Super Heroes of
America. They’re really into the ‘danger room’ training and making costumes
and all that.”
“I don’t want to be a Super
Hero, I just am one,” I told her with a shake of my head. “And my
choice really has nothing to do with it. It’s kind of the family business.
Both, well, really, all of our parents are Supers.” Mary tried valiantly to
keep her chuckle from spreading to a full blown laugh.
“Wow, girl, I thought I had it
bad. Don’t let them or the Robins find out about that. You’ll be flooded.”
She noticed the confusion on my face and nodded. “Robins are another clique;
they want to be side kicks.”
I felt my eyes roll in disbelief.
They say there’s nothing more cathartic then finding out about somebody who’s
worse off than you are. I felt much better. “Here we are,” she told me,
having arrived at another of those ivy covered buildings that seemed to be
required by ordinance for schools in New England. She led me up several
flights of steps to the building third floor to a door with 302 on a small
brass plaque affixed to it. She opened the door to reveal a smallish room with
a pair of beds on the left and right walls near the room’s lone window.
Between them on each side were a pair of smallish closets that faced each other
and finally a pair of desks that faced the walls, framing the door.
My things were in a neat pile near
the right hand of the beds.
“So,” she started hesitantly as we
stepped inside and she shut the door. “You know why you’re in Poe, right?” I
shrugged, more than a little nervous about the shift the conversation had
taken.
“Mostly because of my mom,” I told
her. “When she was here her name was evidently Tom. Now it’s Tabitha.”
“I see,” she said softly with more
than a little concern for my predicament from the sound of her voice. “So,
what did your name used to be?”
I turned, frowning a bit. “It’s always
been Lily.” I didn’t think I’d said it that forcefully, but she shrank back
and her eyes got as wide as saucers.
“You’re going to turn into a guy?”
she demanded fearfully.
“God, I hope not!” I answered with
a rueful chuckle. “Evidently when I was born I kind of had both bits, if you
take my meaning. They got rid of the extras and I just found out about it
today. Mom’s worried something might happen so they put me here. I tell you
what though, if something does start growing down there, I’m having it cut
off.”
The relief that washed over her was
comical. “Thank God,” she said with such religious fervor that, given her
physical appearance, I was rather regretting I didn’t have it on tape. “I’m allergic
to boys,” she told me as she crossed to her bed and carefully sank down, being
mindful of her wings.
“So, you didn’t used to be one?” I
asked her somewhat hesitantly. She violently shook her head.
“No, I’m just Gay.”
“I’m not,” I replied with what I
hoped was the right mix of firm and polite. I liked Angel and I had a feeling
we could be good friends, unless she couldn’t understand I wasn’t interested
that way. To my immense relief she smiled.
“No problem. If it will make you
feel better, I can change clothes in the restroom.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” I told
her. “This was your room first. I don’t mean to be rude, and I’d really like
to be friends with you; just not that way. I hope that’s ok?”
“To each their own,” she said with a
smile. “Let me help you unpack.”
* * *
“Bowling for Soup!” she cried as I
was getting my CDs unpacked. “You’re into Bowling for Soup?”
In short order 1985 was blasting
from her CD player as we unpacked and sang along, woefully off key. Yep, Mary
was definitely a keeper.
* * *
That last meal with Mom and Dad was
more than a bit surreal. Dad had taken to wearing this small gold pin on his
lapel that evidently matched Charles’ and kept casting these dour glances at
some of the other kids who didn’t have one. Maybe this was how he was in
school; if so, I was more than a little curious as to what mom had seen in him.
I introduced Angel to the ‘rents
and they seemed pretty taken with her.
Evidently Miss Perfect had drawn
the Bitch as a roomie as looking a little depressed about it. Well, I suppose
if nothing else, Ashley would get a taste of how the other half lived for a
bit.
We had the tearful farewell moment
before Mrs. Carson whisked them off to the train station and us back to our dorms,
each with our new schedule. My classes started at 6 in the morning! As I
moaned about this to Angel she just shook her head. “Welcome to Whateley.
That’s Flight I, right? I’m the student assistant for that class. You fly?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” I chuckled.
“I better get right to sleep so I’m coherent in the morning.”
“What’s the rest of your classes?”
“English Comp, then Geometry and
Powers Theory. Lunch next, followed by Powers Lab, French and then Martial
Arts, wow, what a weird mix,” I told her. I put the sheet on my desk before
crawling into the surprisingly comfortable bed.
“We’ll have Flight and Geometry
together,” she said, getting into her own before reaching up to hit the light
switch that was thoughtfully put next to the beds. “I’ll show you how to get
to your other classes after Flight tomorrow.”
* * *
I woke up the next morning with the
feeling I’d had strange dreams all night. I don’t remember my dreams in the
morning, so I couldn’t be sure. On Angel’s advice, I wore my uniform to class,
complete with my mask. “Skirt’s aren’t made for flying,” she said with a
chuckle so for the first time I would be heading out into public wearing the
gift Soldier of Fortune had made for us.
It was remarkably comfortable, with
a complete freedom of movement. Once I got used to the heels on the boots, it
would be about perfect. But, then I could fly so the comfort bit of the shoes
didn’t matter as much as making that important first impression.
Putting on that much mascara on my
eyelids so you couldn’t tell where the mask ended and my eyes started was a
pain, but that’s how it goes with domino masks. That and the spirit gum;
yuck!
Angel just wore a white dance
leotard without a mask. “I’m just here to learn,” she told me with a laugh.
“It’s not a career.”
There was another girl in the
Flight class from Poe that Angel introduced me to as we made our way to the
field where the class was taught. On the way, while chatting with Angel and
Tennyo my eye caught a young boy with tentacles for arms who was talking with
another boy with dirty blonde hair and an un-put-together look that I found
odd, considering it wasn’t hard to get a uniform right. His tie was askew and
his jacket had sufficient wrinkles to make me think he’d slept in it.
I wasn’t going to give it a second
thought when I saw a bolt of some kind of electricity arc from the first boy to
the young man with tentacles for arms. It must have been the spandex, I didn’t
think, I just changed course and walked brusquely over, ignoring the furtive
whispers from Angel behind me.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
asked the boy with the tentacles and that was all the info I needed. My hand
snapped out and incased the blonde in a force bubble.
“What?” he demanded, turning around
to see me glowering up at him.
“Why don’t you leave him alone?” I
demanded.
“What business is it of yours,
panda girl?” he sneered at me.
I frowned a bit more as he brought
up some kind of static electricity corona that honestly didn’t help make him
look any more fearsome in my force bubble. “The name’s Wall Flower,” I told
him with a defiant lift of my chin. “And it’s my business because we happen to
be the same species, except maybe for you. Leave him alone.”
“Or what?” he demanded and threw a
pretty powerful bolt at me. The force bubble held and his disdain turned to
worry.
“Or you’ll suffocate,” I told him
smugly. “This bubble doesn’t allow air to pass through and that corona of
yours is using up what’s in there pretty quick I’d think. And I can hold you
in it for hours.” He took a couple of nervous sniffs of the air and the
corona winked out. “Now, apologize,” I ordered.
He turned red, and not because of a
lack of oxygen; I was bluffing about that, but he didn’t know it. After a string
of what I took to be profanity in what sounded like German, he turned to the
other boy and very sullenly muttered, “Sorry.”
My bubble winked out. “Now get
lost,” I told him. For a second I thought he might try something, but he just
clinched his fists and stalked off. Once I was sure he was gone I turned to
the other boy. “You ok?”
I don’t think anyone had ever stood
up for the poor boy before, based on the look of out right admiration on his
face. “Yeah,” he breathed, extending a tentacle that I took as a handshake. I
shook hands, but at least some part of me was glad I was wearing gloves. “I’m
Trevor,” he told me. “Trevor Martin, Hawthorne Cottage, thanks so much.”
“Lily,” I told him. “Poe. This is
Angel and Tennyo,” introducing my new friends who had joined me. “Who was
that?”
“Haywire,” Angel told me. “He’s
one of the Masterminds, think of them as the opposites of the Cape Squad.” She
crossed her arms and shook her head. “First day here and you’re already making
enemies.”
“If you’re collecting enemies,”
Trevor said with a dry chuckle, “you can have mine. I’ve got plenty.”
Trevor had quite a sense of humor I could see and I found myself liking him.
His face got a look of intense concentration and the tentacles slowly changed
into what looked like normal looking arms and hands, if a bit more flexible
than they should have been. “He’s been picking on me since I got here. I
can’t seem to control my powers when I’m around him.”
“You’ll get it,” I told brightly.
“We’ve got to get to class, Trevor, see you around.” He stood staring and
waving as we walked off to the muted giggles of Tennyo and Angel.
“I think you just got your first
fan,” Tennyo told me with a wink.
“Or a side kick,” laughed Angel. I
rolled my eyes.
“Sorry if I got you two involved
with something you didn’t want. I guess it’s the spandex, I just couldn’t let
him bully that kid.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Tennyo told me. “I’m
such a trouble magnet it was probably my fault.” We had a good giggle for the
rest of the way to the class, this morning being held in an open field,
sheltered by several of the buildings from the casual observer.
Mr. Buttons was a dumpy little man
with big eyes and bigger glasses, with a balding pate ringed by dark brown
hair. Despite the look of him, there was a steadiness about his hands and eyes
that made me think he was an accomplished pilot in some way. He seemed happy
to get another student as I handed him my transfer papers for him to look
over. “Ah, Miss Flower,” he greeted, looking up from the papers. “You already
have a pilot’s license?” I nodded. “What is your FAA number and
certificates?”
“SWF 23, sir,” I told him. “I’m
only rated for Visual Flight Rules at altitudes of less than ten thousand
feet.” The FAA had started giving permanent radio call signs years ago to
mutants who could fly. Mine was S(uper) W(all) F(lower) and as there were
twenty two other supers who had names with WF in them, my number was 23.
Mr. Buttons looked back at my
papers then back up. “You have a passenger certification? Are you
exceptionally strong?”
I raised my hand and encircled him
with a force bubble. “Not especially,” I told him. “I can just pull people
along.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Mr.
Buttons. “You’ll be a great help to me, Miss. Flower.” I suppressed a
chuckle.
“It’s just Wall Flower. Or Lily.”
Mr. Buttons nodded. “Alright then,
Wall Flower, your abilities will allow me to get the proverbial birds’ eye view
of our students. You are now my second Student Assistant.” Yay me.
“You’ll bring me up to approximately one thousand feet and we’ll get some
approach and acquisition practice in. Do you have a radio?” I nodded. “Watch
closely, class. Wall Flower, I’d like for you to contact MTO-NE, check into
their net as a temporary sub controller and advise them of our operations.
You’ll be the voice for Whateley Field for the time being.” Mass Transit
Organization-North East was the FAA’s regional air traffic control center, the
traffic cops of the skies. The Centers name was Carmine-Gallo.
There are a lot of good things to
say for spandex. First gives you this tremendous shot of confidence that, to
be honest, if I didn’t have this mask to hide behind I’d be terrified. Instead
of panicking, I just got my ear bud radio from its case in the Utility Belt and
turned it on. “FAA Master One,” I told it, letting the voice recognition
command program tune if for me. “Carmine-Gallo, Carmine-Gallo, this is Sierra
Whisky Fox 23 checking into your net via Whateley Field, how do you read,
over?”
After a pause a somewhat bored
sounding male voice filled my ear, “Fox 23, this is MTO-NE, reading you five by
five, over.”
“MTO-NE requesting recognition for
sub controller, VFR for pilot trainees at angels one triple zero Fox 23 is
answering for Whateley Field, over.”
“Roger your operations, Whateley
Field, we have no traffic scheduled at your altitudes and you are clear for
VFR, MTO-NE Clear.”
“Whateley Field, clear,” I said
before turning back to Mr. Buttons. “We’re ready, sir.”
Mr. Buttons gave a quick lecture
about everything I’d just said before I put him back in a bubble and got
airborne. Lacking any kind of altimeter, which of course was why we were doing
this under Visual Flight Rules, I could only guess at my height, but I’d gotten
good at estimating it. Once the students and I were at about 1000 feet, we
spent the next two hours trying to get them to not run into each other.
As I watched with no small measure
of amusement I turned to Mr. Buttons and asked, “Have you not explained holding
patterns yet, sir?”
“Twice,” he said with a sigh of the
long suffering. “It would seem we’d need a third time.
I couldn’t agree more. Tennyo was
doing very well, seeming to grasp the concept of aerial geography quite well.
The rest, well, there was a lot of homework needed.
* * *
Angel and I only just had enough
time to change into our uniforms and get to our next classes. I suppose
there’s something to be said for the Catholic School Girl look, but I wasn’t
sure what it was. The knee skirt and socks look had gone out with Truman if
you asked me. Still, as I had pointed out already, a uniform was a uniform.
I had Mr. Lord for English
Composition, a decidedly good looking youngish man in his middle to late
twenties. He had the look of Joseph Finnes, the Shakespearean actor about him,
tall, thin with dark hair a van dyke beard that nearly cried out for a doublet
and hose instead of the Dockers and polo he was wearing. “Quickly, quickly,”
he called to a couple of stragglers in the hall. “Good morning, Ladies and
Gentlemen,” he said with a flare that only a morning person can have. “I hope
you will all join me in welcoming our new transfer student, Lily, to the
class.”
Now I didn’t have a mask to hide
behind and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. And being able to do it meant
I couldn’t wish to be invisible. “I trust you’ll all help her get up to speed
quickly. Lily, we’re currently reading Othello and as we’re in Act Two, I’d
like you to read through the first act as quickly as possible.”
“Yes sir,” I muttered, doing my
best not to bring further attention to myself.
Mr. Lord turned back to his desk
with a flourish and started writing in bold, quick strokes on the blackboard.
“This semester the school play will be Othello and try outs will be tomorrow.
I expect to see everyone in this class there,” he said after writing the time
and location of the try outs on the board. “Shakespeare meant for his plays to
be seen and experienced, not just read. I will not hold it against
anyone who does not make the grade. Not all of us are actors. But, anyone who
does make the play and gives a reasonably good accounting of themselves
will be awarded extra credit.”
He pointed at the girl I recognized
as Ashley’s roommate. “Cathy, would you start us off at Scene one, please?”
Now Cathy was a very lovely girl.
Tall, fit with a nice figure and auburn hair that fell to the tops of her
shoulders. If she didn’t wear such a hateful expression all the time she’d be
beautiful. Her voice was the kind of soprano that had me wondering why some
music school hadn’t snatched her up for Opera.
And with all that going for her,
she couldn’t read Shakespeare out loud to save her life. She halted, stuttered
and generally made a fool of herself to the detriment of her mood. It was one
of the most important scenes in the play, where Iago reveals himself to be the
villain and begins his banter with Desdemona to ensnare her in his plot. It
was supposed to be lively banter and innuendo and Cathy managed to turn it into
see spot run.
I couldn’t keep a heavy sigh to
myself that Mr. Lord, evidently possessed of an excellent pair of ears noticed
at once. “Just a moment, Cathy, Scott,” he said. “Do you have an issue with
Scott and Cathy’s performance, Lily?”
Oh I felt about one foot tall and I
could sense every eye on me. I just sat and considered bolting for the
door. “Well?” growled Cathy and something in me snapped.
“I don’t have a problem, except
that this might be a bit above you!” I snarled at her, blushing furiously.
Before a fight broke out, Mr. Lord quickly interposed himself.
“What makes you say that, Lily?”
“This is the most important scene
in the play!” I told him as he nodded and played with his van dyke. I took his
silence to mean I should continue. “It’s through Iago’s banter with Desdemona
that we learn he’s the bad guy and is plotting to turn Venice on it’s ear for
his own ladder climbing. If that isn’t brought out, in this scene none
of the rest of the play makes sense.”
“Very passionately put,” he said
with a smile. “I think the Bard would be pleased and that is the
message of this scene. But critiquing someone else is easy, Lily, doing it for
yourself is an entirely different thing. Why don’t you read Desdemona for a
bit and see for yourself. Scott, we’ll take it from ‘Sir, would she give you
so much of her lips…’”
Scott was a big boy, tall, and extremely
well built. He had that first bloom of an athletic figure thing going for him,
you could even tell it through his Whateley school uniform. His face was damn
cute, too; long and regular with a straight nose and soulful blue eyes. His
blonde hair was so light that it was almost white, and one lock of it fell over
his face and across one eye. He had something of a Boy Scout look about him
and his friends were giving him a bit of teasing over reading for the bad guy,
but he was taking it in good spirit.
And he was good too, with a deep,
resonate baritone with an excellent grasp of what he was saying. “Sir, would
she give you so much of her lips as of her tongue she oft bestows on me, you’ll
have enough.”
I couldn’t help but cast a glance
at the fuming Cathy as I tried to project how I felt in my fighting tongs into
this performance. In a way, I guess they were very similar as I was being
someone else. As our eyes locked, I put as much sultry into my voice as I
could, and said, “Alas, she has no speech.”
Scott just kept in a chuckle. “In
faith, too much; I find it still when I have list to sleep. Marry, before your
ladyship I grant, she puts her tongue a little in her heart and chides with
thinking.”
He and the other girl reading the
part of Emilia, Iago’s wife shared a moment of marital discord before my banter
with Scott really got into high gear. There was a bit of rivalry as we really
got into it, not reading the lines so much as having the argument there on the
pier of Venice. “O lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, Emilia,
though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? Is he not a most profane
and liberal Counselor?”
One of Scott’s friends stuttered
through Cassio’s line before he told me the revelation with all the hatred of a
master villain at his arch nemesis’s arrival. “With as little a web as this
will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Aye, smile upon her, do; I will give
thee in thine own courtship. You say true? Tis, so, indeed. If such tricks
as these strip