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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Dana and Dana Naked in School (5/7) (ff mf mmf mg fg, exhib, voy,   NIS, naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
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Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2006 16:10:28 -0500
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Repost with corrections and to fix formatting.

P. Random

---


-- 
http://www.fastmail.fm - Or how I learned to stop worrying and
                          love email again

<1st attachment, "DanasNIS-5.txt" begin>


Dana and Dana Naked in School
(ff mf mmf mg fg, exhib, voy, NIS, naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
by pseudoRandom

5. Thursday

Dana Smith

I once read a phrase, by some poet I think, about how everything had 
turned gray and all the virtue seeped out of the world.  That's exactly 
what it's like when you're depressed.  Only it's not just the world -- 
it's you.  You don't willfully look at the bad side of everything, it's 
just all you can see.  Or I can see, when I'm having an off day.  And I'd 
had a double-off day.  As in off my meds as well.

	Um, okay, so my jokes are pretty much nonexistent in my depressive 
cycle.  There's a reason I call them off days.

	I felt better in the morning.  Not great, not by a long shot.  
Just as it takes a few days for my meds to wear off, it takes them a few 
days to wear on.  And even with their support, I was still off.  Plus I 
had a new thing to beat myself with.  Although --

	Argh, this is hard.  You know how Dana feels talking about sex?  
I'm that way about my therapy.  Dr. Thea is great -- just look at how she 
gave me an emergency appointment first thing in the morning -- but I don't 
like to talk about our sessions.  It's private, between me and her.

	But I do need to explain that she did straighten me out about one 
thing.  I was feeling rotten about fucking up my meds and causing so much 
trouble.  But she pointed out it's not that I'm immature, it's not that 
I'm irresponsible -- it's that, just like an ADHD child can't focus, 
sometimes I just don't notice my meds, especially during a manic cycle.  
It's my condition, fighting me.  If anything, some blame goes to Mom and 
Scarlett, for getting complacent because I'd been good for a few months -- 
they need to CHECK my meds, not just remind me.

	I'll have to find someone who can help me with this, when I leave 
home.

	But anyway, that's all I'm going to say about it.

*

Dana Partlow

I got to school early, because I knew Dana wouldn't be there to support me 
-- he had an emergency appointment with his doctor.  Yes, that sounds like 
a prescription for building up my nerves, but I had a plan.  I wanted to 
be one of the first to undress, before there was too much of a crowd.  As 
bad as being naked is, being exposed is easier to handle than exposing 
myself.

	Though I wasn't first.  Spike was there, with her camera, to catch 
it all.

	I walked up to the boxes, as centered as I could be -- I was 
regretting missing Aikido yesterday, though not the reason for it -- and 
started undressing as if it was normal.

	As I undid my bra, a boy called out, "Hey, let us see."

	I turned away from the wall, but kept undressing.

	"Hold on -- let us get a look," another said.

	"Reasonable request," Ms Angeles said from the side.  I didn't let 
myself frown.

	But I did let myself get surly.  I dangled my bra in one hand like 
a thirteen-year-old faced with utter stupidity, and just Looked at the 
guy.  If that was sexy for them, they had some pretty freaky kinks.

	But one of them was smart.  "Okay, don't do it for us -- do it for 
the girls."

	Which, um, got to me.  More than I wanted.  I looked around at the 
girls in the audience.  And right there in front of me was Spike, with her 
camera.

	I don't know if I can explain this.  Spike mentioned yesterday 
about the lens being the great exposer.  What I feared most was exposing 
myself.  So I faced my fears, and stripped for her and her camera, timing 
my pauses for her shots.

	Which is something of a lie.  A good lie, because it's partly 
true.  It's what I told myself at the time.  But when I was done and she 
looked around her camera with a smile, I knew that no, I'd stripped for 
HER -- as a girl.  And she knew it.

	What I didn't know was whether she'd liked it.  And whether I 
wanted her to.  I was still confused and hurt and angry -- doubly so, with 
Jeanette joining Liz in my list of girlfriend fights for the week.  And 
I'd told Scarlett the truth about not wanting to jump into a rebound 
relationship.  But still, Spike -- I was starting to kinda like her.  
Another thing to thank Dana for, for introducing us.

	When I was done, I almost stepped to one side.  Instead, I faced 
another fear, and stepped forward to stand next to Spike.

	Jake took the stage next.  I'd never watching him strip before -- 
he'd always been done by the time I'd arrived -- and I discovered he 
played up the strip-tease even more than Madison.  Practically every girl 
in the audience was hooting and whistling, like he was some Chippendale or 
something.  Though not Spike and I.

	As Spike waited for a good pose, she asked me, "Why weren't you in 
chemistry yesterday?"

	"How'd you know that?"

	She flashed a grin at me.  A dangerous grin.  "I'm a roving arts 
student with a license to wander the halls, documenting the first week of 
the Program.  I came to take some shots of you."

	"Sorry to disappoint you," I said dryly.  "Health emergency.  
It's fine now."  Or I hoped so.  Dana and Catarina both said his doctor 
was good, but there's only so much you can do when your brain chemistry 
is screwed up.

	"Ah," Spike said, and snapped a series of shots of Jake flexing 
his thighs.  Do straight girls find that sexy?

	I shivered.  It was overcast and cooler, with the possibility of 
rain later.  I wondered how they planned to handle undressing during 
winter.  At Jeanette's school, they don't undress outside, but in a 
Participant's room, which is kept warm -- it's a time not for other 
students, but just Participants alone.  They get pretty frisky doing that, 
according to Jeanette.

	When Jake was done, and Pat and Patty took the stage, he came over 
to Spike and me.  No, just to me -- and he was frowning.

	I raised my chin, firmly meeting his eyes.

	"I have to ask you something, Partlow.  Why aren't you letting 
boys do anything with you?"

	"I do reasonable requests.  I have to."

	"You know what I mean."

	There are times when Dana's deliberate obtuseness has its purpose.  
This wasn't one of them.  Besides, I'm not him.  "It's not boys -- I'm 
treating girls the same."

	"Seriously, between his jokes and your claiming to be gay, I'm 
tired of you Danas queering up the experience for the rest of us."

	And then there are times when Dana's comebacks would be really 
handy.

	Spike made a disgusted sound at him.  "I can't believe I actually 
heard you say something that stupid."

	Jake spread his hands.  "What?"  If he wasn't getting it, he was 
doing a better job of faking it than I thought I could.

	"Look at it this way," I told him.  "I just had a messy breakup 
with my girlfriend -- " (both of them, depending on what was happening 
with Jeanette -- but no one else knew that) " -- and I'm not ready to do 
anything with anyone, past what the Program requires me to.  So you can 
just forget it."

	Pat and Patty were done with their show, and Sylvie took their 
place.  Who I wanted to watch, without Jake's commentary.  For once the 
universe complied with my wishes -- the twins came over, and made a pass 
at Jake.  I think he would have gladly done Patty in a second -- possibly 
right there in front of everyone -- but not Pat.  First he threatened 
them, but Principal Jackson was onto him for threatening violence, so he 
tried to get away.  The twins followed him gleefully.

	Leaving me to watch Sylvie.  Dana had called her a sylph, last 
night.  I saw what he meant.  She was definitely pubescent -- pale blonde, 
budding breasts, fair fuzzy pubic hair, coltish legs that the rest of her 
was still catching up with.  And she was undressing enthusiastically.  
Jake and Madison had stripped to give a show -- she stripped like she was 
advertising herself.

	I'd recently seen that expression on her face, on another.  She 
was as eager for the sex she was about to get as Ginny had been.  As 
Jeanette had been at that age.  As I had been.

	No, Dana had done nothing wrong with her.  I was going to have to 
tell him, when I saw him -- probably several times, until he got it.

	As I was watching, Spike was snapping away continuously.  Based on 
what she'd showed me yesterday, Sylvie was the most photogenic of us, 
excepting only Madison.  But I was starting to wonder if that was the only 
reason Spike took quite so many pictures of her.

	I could sorta see what she saw in the girl.  And what Dana did.  
Sylvie was -- okay, darn it, she was sexy.  Which for someone four years 
younger than me was kinda disturbing.  When she was done, and a freshman 
boy replaced her, she went off to the side with a crowd of admiring boys 
-- intimately admiring boys.  I tried to ignore them.

	When the bell rang, though, I knew she was having sex for the 
second time.

	Spike looked around.  "Where's Dana?"

	"Ah, he'll be late today.  He has an appointment."

	Which got me a look.  I wondered if she was connecting that with 
the medical emergency that kept me from chemistry.  I played it innocent.

	I had three requests to pose before I got to my locker.  Well, 
requests to feel me up, but I turned those parts down.  "I know what you 
need to be felt by," one boy said, clutching his crotch.  His two friends 
laughed.  I rolled my eyes.

	Madison, who was walking by with two cheerleaders, turned and 
grabbed his shirt collar.  "Calvin, you're a dickhead."

	Which caught HIS attention.

	"Why don't you go fuck an anthill," another cheerleader said.  
"That's all your tiny dick will fit in."

	Madison let go of Calvin, and the boys escaped.  She nodded to me.  
"It's jerks like that who mess it up for everyone."

	"Uh, thanks."  I forced myself look at her face, and not lower.

	"I have a request," her other crony said.  "Kiss me."

	"Me too," said the first, "I want to find out what it's like."

	"Excuse me?" I said intelligently.

	"It's reasonable," the second one said.

	"No more reasonable than a boy kissing me."

	"But you're a lezzie!"

	I shook my head.  "Doesn't matter.  It's intimate enough it makes 
me uncomfortable.  Besides, if you want to find out what it's like to kiss 
a girl, why not kiss each other?"

	They looked at each other in horror.  "Ew!"

	Madison rolled her eyes for me.  "Come on, Tiffany," she said as 
she dragged them off, "you can give me head in homeroom."

	"What?" the girl said as she stumbled after Madison.

	I was starting to feel like I was in a weird dream -- one of those 
where you get to school and discover you've forgotten to dress.  Except 
that part was real.

	The bell rang, and I escaped into my homeroom.

	As I watched Mr. Holmes take roll, I wondered about Madison's 
comment.  Was relief allowed in homeroom?  I checked the Pamphlet -- it 
just said "at the start of every class."  I wasn't sure if that counted or 
not.  Not that I wanted to it.

	Though if I had been alone, I would have rubbed myself, imagining 
Spike, and Sylvie, and Spike and Sylvie.  I gave myself a mental slap and 
refused to think about them.  Not that I could stop easily.

	On my way to history, I was stopped halfway down the hall 
by Pat and Patty, the wonder twins -- though why they weren't over in the 
Whitman wing, I don't know.  I do know they wanted to have sex with me.  
Both of them, together, right now.

	I think it was only because I was horny I didn't reflexively turn 
them down.  I mean, Patty IS pretty sexy, for a redhead.  They picked up 
on my small hesitation.

	"You want to do it," Pat said.

	I pointed at his erection.  "Not with that."

	Patty cupped her breasts at me.  "But you want this, don't you."

	"You," I admitted, "look tasty."  This was easier if I tried 
imagining what Dana would say.

	"We're a package deal," Pat said surlily.

	"And you've got the wrong package."  I smiled to myself -- that 
was about the perfect Dana comeback.

	Patty snickered.  "Aw, come on.  You don't know what you're 
missing."

	"But I don't miss it," I said, turning up my palm.

	"You're in denial," Pat said.  "Everyone's a little bi.  It's just 
a matter of how much."

	What had Dana said about the Will To Be Ignorant?  I wanted to hit 
Pat (and Jake) upside the head with a Kinsey report.  Hard.  The bell 
rang, and we all had to run to class.

	I wasn't sure which was worse, my classmates' attitudes or fellow 
Program participants'.  Either way, I was disturbed.  And off-balance.  I 
hoped Dana came to school, after his appointment -- it was supposed to be 
over in time for second period.

	He didn't meet me in the hallway heading to English, though.  I 
was stopped only once for requests, but that's because I took the whole 
time to argue with Sita and Talulla, as Sally Thomas looked on -- all out, 
all of us friends of Liz -- about letting them finger me.

	"Come on, it's reasonable -- we're girls."

	"Doesn't matter."

	"Liz is right," Sally said, "you've gone over to the straight side 
of the Force."  Sally's the only girl in school who's even more butch than 
Liz, but I'd never heard her say a word against heterosexuality before.

	I laughed -- I had to.  "NO ONE touches me like that.  Not in 
public."

	"If you're still queer, prove it," Sita said, reaching for my 
crotch.

	I fended her off simply, not using Aikido -- I'd learned my lesson 
there.  "No.  I don't have to.  I don't have to prove anything to anyone."

	When the bell rang and we scurried to our classes, I made a mental 
note to talk with Chad Milligan -- Liz's co-president of the Gay-Straight 
Alliance -- during Drama.  I knew he'd hate all this just as much as me.  
As would most of the GSA, for that matter.

	As would Dana.  Except, he wasn't in English either.  I bit my 
lip, and sat down beside Peri.

*

Smith

It took fifteen minutes of arguing with Ms Angeles to accept that a note 
signed by doctor was a valid excuse for missing any Program activities.  
And even that took Skinner's overruling her.

	"I had an appointment!"

	"You didn't tell me that in advance," Angeles said with a sniff.

	"Because I didn't know I had to -- you said NOTHING about it."

	"I must say, Mr. Smith has a point here," Skinner said.  
"Otherwise, participants have to cancel all doctors' and dentists' 
appointment for the entire week -- and they don't know beforehand they'll 
be picked."

	"He missed school."

	"With a valid excuse," Skinner said.  He took my note and 
countersigned it for my teachers.  "This is an attendance issue, not a 
Program one."

	Which Angeles didn't like.  "By that logic, parents could pull 
their students with appointments all week."

	"That would be truancy, and we can deal with that through regular 
channels.  Signed excuses, however, are still valid.  And you, young man, 
should be in class now, hmm?"

	It was a pity I wasn't on, I thought as I walked through the empty 
halls.  I could have used some good snappy answers there.

	I got to English two minutes before the end of the period.  I 
could almost feel Dana's relief at seeing me.  Which felt good enough, I 
managed to completely ignore my sexy naked teacher.

	Dana raised her eyebrows at me as I sat down next to her, asking 
how I was.

	I gave a weak smile and small thumbs up -- better, but still only 
hanging in there.

	She nodded.

	After class, as we left, Dana said, "I was worried.  You'll be 
okay for the day?"

	"Should be."

	"If you need anything."

	I nodded.  "I know we have to run," I told her, "but I just wanted 
to apologize for -- "

	Her glare stopped me -- a Scarlett-class glare.  

	I cringed behind my hands.  "Okay, I know, Dr. Thea said you'd be 
like that.  But I had to say it."

	In a stern and level voice, she said, "I'm not going to say that 
being put through the Program for one week is anything as bad as what you 
have to deal with your whole life.  But if you can put up with me and HELP 
me anyway, I can damn well help you through one crisis.  That's what 
fucking friends are for."  Then, not at all repentantly, "'Scuse my 
French."

	I hadn't known Dana could cuss.

	"Lunch?" I asked.

	"Oh God yes -- please."

	I grabbed her hand and squeezed.  Then started booking it for 
shop.

*

Partlow

I talked briefly with Chad during Drama -- briefly, because it was his 
turn to do a sketch.  He said he'd come by our table during lunch.

	Rather than wait for Dana to meet me at my locker before lunch, I 
ran to his.  He wasn't there.  As I headed for mine -- in case he was 
waiting for me there -- a boy and girl, I think freshmen who were dating, 
stopped me for a reasonable request.  Well, and advice.  The request to 
feel how much my breasts weighed, because they wanted to compare them to 
hers.  I pointed out that hers were still smaller than mine, but I let 
them.  The boy seemed surprised at how heavy they were.

	"See?" she said.

	"They ARE flesh," I said, "which means mostly water."

	"Okay, okay," he said, "I believe you."

	But while we were there, the girl drew me into telling them -- 
well, him -- how to give oral sex to a girl.  Which I got the feeling was 
the real reason she'd stopped me.  I almost refused, because it was 
transparently only because I was gay -- I almost told them to try the 
other Dana, given how good HE seemed to be.  But the boy was willing to 
learn how to pleasure her, so I told him to work up to it by kissing 
around her mound first, and to not focus just on the clitoris, but move 
about.  At least he knew how to find her clitoris, which apparently many 
boys have trouble with.

	Dana found us as I was talking.  When he saw what was up, he 
almost sniggered, but managed to keep a straight face.  So to speak.

	"One suggestion," he said.  "Try writing the alphabet with your 
tongue."

	I hadn't heard that one before, but yeah, that would give enough 
different sensations to feel really nice when starting out.  I wondered if 
Jeanette knew about it -- and then remembered my anger at Jeanette.

	When they left, Dana gave in to his sniggers.  "Sex tips for 
boys?" he said as he opened his locker.

	"Well if they need -- whoa!"  I stared at the inside of his locker 
door.

	It was plastered with pictures of naked women.  No, of one woman.  
Madison.

	I put my face in my palm.  "Dana, I don't know about you and 
Spike."

	"What, these?"

	I looked at him.  "Are you sure you should have those up?"

	"Why, it's not like they can object -- what, it's okay to drool 
over her naked body in person but not over pictures of her?"

	He had a point.  "The rule about obscene material in lockers is 
still on the books."

	He shrugged.  "So they haven't ironed out all the changes the 
Program created."  He closed his locker and we started for my locker.  
After a moment, I slipped my hand in his, even though the hallway was 
thinning out.

	I knew why he was no longer fizzing with energy, but it sill 
bothered me.  I wanted the old Dana back, even if he could be a bit hard 
to take.  I even kinda missed Mr. Happy.  Yeah, I know, so not my thing.  
To distract myself, I asked, "Where'd you learn to go down on a girl, 
anyway?"

	"Hello?  Raised by wild lesbians?"

	I knew what he meant, but I made a face.  "Your MOTHER taught 
you?"  Ew.

	"Don't be silly," he said primly.  "Her gay sex guides did."

	I wondered whether Catarina knew he'd read them, and whether I 
could borrow any.

	In the cafeteria, Spike and Phil were back at a larger table 
together, with Peri, and Phil's boyfriend -- the one who'd been with him 
yesterday morning.  Phil and his boy held hands under the table.  Chad 
found us while Dana was still getting his lunch.

	I gave him a rundown of the homophobic things that had been 
happening to me -- and I meant that red-flag word, for all that none of it 
was overt.  They disturbed him as much as me, especially Mina's role.  
Phil confirmed that similar things were happening to him, but that they 
always had been, given he was so visibly out.

	Chad frowned.  "Our next GSA meeting isn't until Monday.  But I'll 
start a discussion on our Xanga board.  And email chapters in other 
schools with the Program, see if they can shed any Light on the matter."

	Chad talks like that a lot -- he's Quaker, and I think they have 
some sort of light fetish.  He also starts GSA meetings with a moment of 
silence.

	Dana arrived with a tray much less full than earlier in the week.  
He'd mentioned his appetite varied with his cycle.  I still didn't like 
it.  "Sorry," he said.  "Some girls wanted flute lessons."

	"I thought you played oboe?" I said.

	"He means lessons on HIS flute," Spike said.

	I glanced in his lap.  His penis was happier than it had been 
earlier, though it was deflating now.

	"Also," Dana said, "they heard about a certain flautist I played 
yesterday."  Then to me, by explanation, "I gave Sylvie oral relief before 
orchestra yesterday."

	He hadn't mentioned that part, during his self-accusations last 
night.  Because it would have put him in a better light, of course -- 
asking him for relief meant she really HAD wanted him.  Sometimes, I 
really hate what depression does to a person.  Watching my cousin at a 
distance had been bad enough.

	"Dana," Chad asked him, "have you been seeing any of the 
homophobic things that Dana here and Phil have?"

	"Other than what I've seen around Dana, no."

	Soon after that, Chad left.  Phil drawled, "You know, I'm think 
I'm hurt that Jake left me out of his accusation about queering up the 
program.  After all, aren't I a lot queerer than Dana?"

	Meaning him, not me.  I wasn't sure whether to complain about 
leaving me out or not.

	"Too right," his boyfriend said.

	"Wanna go make me perform reasonable requests in front of his 
table?"  Phil waved across the cafeteria, to the high status Grant end.

	"Only if it involves oral sex," the boy said with a grin.

	"Your request is my command," Phil said airily.

	They stood up and walked away, still holding hands.

	Peri looked wistfully after them.  "You know, I almost want to 
watch that."

	"Yes," I said, "but you read slash fic."

	Dana coughed into his soda.  I grinned -- at his spit-take, not at 
Peri.  But she still looked at me defensively.  "So?"

	"Think of it as primary research," Spike said, with more than a 
little spite in her voice.  I was beginning to see where she'd gotten her 
name.

	Peri's eyes almost lit up.

	I shook my head.  "Go on," I told her, "have some fun.  We'll be 
here when you're done."

	She bit her lip, then nodded.

	As we watched her leave, Dana said to me, "Let me guess -- she 
writes slash, too."

	"She's never told me," I said.  "But I'm guessing, yeah."

	Learn something every day about your friends.

*

Smith

	After Peri left, Spike looked at Dana.  "So you're worried about 
the queer politics of the Program."

	"More and more, yeah."  She gave me a Look.  "And it's not just 
because I'm gay."

	I turned up my hand.  "Like I was going to say that.  Of course it 
isn't."

	"It's just," and Dana turned to Spike again, "I'm all for 
exploring sexualities.  But I think we're being pressured into doing more 
than our orientations really are.  I mean, Madison's playing around with 
being bi-curious, but has she gone down on a girl yet?"

	"Not that I've heard.  And I've heard a lot about Madison this 
week."

	"What about the others?"

	Spike wrinkled her nose.  "Most of the Program girls have also 
played with bi-curious."

	Dana smiled grimly.  "Yet aside from Phil, who was already gay, 
and Pat, who I'm guessing already had a creepy quasi-incestual thing going 
with Patty -- "

	I didn't manage to hide my guilty start, remembering my encounter 
with the twins yesterday.  I covered it by saying, "Yes, they did."

	" -- but other than that," Dana went on, "there's been no pressure 
on the guys that way.  Despite his teasing boys by flirting with them, 
even Dana's straight."

	I am?  "Hello -- bi here."  I twiddled my fingers at her.

	Dana did a full double-take and stared at me.  "Really?"  Hadn't 
she known?  But thinking about, I'd never mentioned it.  We'd been so 
close, these past few days, I thought she knew everything.

	"Well, my boyfriends thought so," I told her.

	"You've had boyfriends?"

	"'Boyfriends'?" Spike asked.  "Since when have you gone steady 
with anyone?"

	"Well, no, not steady," I admitted.  "I'm too volatile."

	"I -- " Dana paused.  "I suppose you could put it that way."

	Spike smirked.  "I like to think of it as you're better in small 
doses."

	But she subsided at a dark look from Dana.

	I quickly went on, " -- but as I was saying, I've gone out with a 
few people.  Quietly.  Both boys and girls."

	"Anyone I know?" Dana asked.

	"I'm not telling," I promptly replied.  "Then it wouldn't be 
quiet."

	"Ah," Dana said, "they're in the closet."

	Well, some of them.  I couldn't stop the corner of my mouth from 
twitching.  Not only do I have less brain when I'm off, I have a harder 
time keeping a straight face.  "Something like that."

	Spike snorted.  "Sounds like you two have even more in common than 
you thought."

	Dana and I looked at each other.  Then as one, we turned to Spike 
and blew raspberries.

	"Hey hey!  No spit on the camera!"  Spike quickly pulled it away, 
protecting it with her hands.

	"You simply don't appreciate our humor," Dana said loftily.  The 
sort of line I might have done, had I any brain.

	Spike rolled her eyes.  "I'm going to see how Jake and his buddies 
are reacting to Phil and Donny."

	"Make sure you get all their erections on record," I told her.

	She grinned evilly.  I wanted to cackle.

	When we were finished watching Spike's naked ass disappear into 
the crowd, Dana looked at me.  "You really are bi?"

	"Yes, and well before the Program, so you can't pin my 
explorations on it."

	"So my thesis still stands."

	She had a point.  I had fewer Program boys than girls in my 
classes, so I hadn't been following how they were handling it, but I had a 
suspicion the bi-curious explorations had been ones who already knew, like 
Pat.  But speaking of knowing about being bi, I said, "That was in 
confidence, by the way."

	She gave me a sour look.  "What, you get to still be in the 
closet?"

	Which made me feel really guilty.  "Well ... "

	"No, Dana -- it's your decision.  If you don't want it known, 
that's your business.  Fight the Program!  Stay in the closet!"

	"Actually," I licked my lips.  "The real reason I don't want it 
known is then all that joke-flirting with guys would be taken seriously."

	Dana pinched the bridge of her nose.  "That almost makes sense.  
In a twisted manic sort of way."

	"Exactly," I said.  "I don't have all that much control over my 
mouth, when I'm on.  And it would make another whole class of jokes that 
would get me in trouble."

	Dana cocked her head.  "Why'd you tell us?" she asked.

	"Well, you need to know, and Spike I think already had guessed 
it."

	"Think?  What, she hadn't asked you to go boywatching with her?"

	"She doesn't miss much, with that lens of hers.  But I'd rather go 
girlwatching with you."

	Dana looked taken aback.  "Um.  You know, that could be fun."

	I grinned.

	"But now I'm curious," she added.  "What kind of boys do you like 
to watch?"

	"Er."  I felt myself go a little hot on the ears.  "Bears, 
actually."  Burly guys with beards.

	"You're joking."

	I held up the middle fingers of my right hand.  "Scout's honor."

	"You do realize there aren't many bears our age."

	I grimaced.  "Tell me about it."

	She laughed.

*

Partlow

As we left the cafeteria, I told Dana, "You know, if Sylvie wants to give 
you relief, you should let her."

	He pointed at his flaccid penis.  "But I don't need it.  I've very 
little sex drive on off days."

	"Or if she wants relief from you, give it to her."

	He looked at me a moment.  "Why not you give it to her?"

	Which was the first real flash of the uncomfortably perceptive 
Dana I'd seen all day.  I wanted to cheer even as I wanted to cringe -- 
that or slap him.  I went lofty on him instead.  "Ah, but I'm not in her 
class."

	He wrinkled his nose at me, and left for orchestra before I could 
make more of a fool of myself.

	And I went to algebra.

	I haven't said much about math.  It's not because it's private, 
the way sex is.  It's because it's boring and I don't like it -- and it 
didn't help that Mr. Gilman was (un)dressing for the Program.  It's the 
only subject I'm not taking on the advanced/Honors track.  As I struggled 
through our review of the quadratic equation, I briefly thought about 
asking Dana for help.  But he was in some advanced calculus class at 
Trinity College -- stuff so far ahead of me, he'd probably forgotten all 
this.

	I must say, though, that Dana has to be the least geeky math 
genius I've ever met.  I wondered whether being bipolar had inadvertently 
saved him from that.

	On the way to French, that creepy kid Jameison and his two cronies 
kept me nearly the whole time with "reasonable" requests.  Including 
repeated requests that they finger my pussy.  I turned those down, though 
I did spread my legs for them.  Just as the bell rang, Dana swept through 
and carried me off.  Over his shoulder, he told them, "Imagine I just said 
something witty and humiliating to you."

	"Can't be bothered?" I asked him with a giggle.

	"Can't DO it," he muttered.  Then, "I keep a stock of return 
volleys for off days, so I don't appear too defenseless."

	In French, Madison looked down at his penis -- still not happy.  
Neither penis nor Madison, that is.  "You BETTER not be getting relief 
from a cheerleader -- she'll be SO dead."

	"Not a cheerleader has touched me but you," Dana said.  Almost 
cheerfully, though not with the grin he would have two days ago.

	"One day you ARE going to show me how many times you can come," 
she ordered him.

	"Are you asking me out on a date?" Dana said with a touch of fey 
innocence.  "Because, yanno, yer not gonna find out in a five minute 
relief session."

	I managed to keep a straight face.  Madison did not -- she almost 
choked.  Dating a boy like Dana was not on her social schedule.  He may be 
universally known and liked, but he's not Status.

	She picked an eager boy for her relief as Dana and I sat down.

	As the class watched, Dana leaned over.  "Be interesting to see 
whether her libido trumps her class consciousness."

	According to Catarina, Dana's therapist diagnosed him as having 
"the self-esteem of a cold pancake."  And it's not just when he's 
depressive -- I'd gone through my memories of the week and found heaping 
platefuls of putting himself down in little ways, most of them disguised 
as jokes.  So while yes, I had just thought about their relative social 
standing, I still whispered back, "You'd think she'd WANT to be seen with 
the best-liked boy in the school."

	Which made him uncomfortable, but he didn't argue it.  After a 
moment of watching Madison urging the boy to do him more enthusiastically, 
he smiled a little.

	I poked his arm.  "What?"

	"Do you know how many boys Sylvie has had sex with today?"

	Okay, if Dana knew I was a little attracted to the girl, why was 
he telling me this?  Well, aside from my asking him to.  "No."

	"Seven," he sighed in a dreamy falsetto -- imitating her.

	"Oh brother," I muttered.

	"But, well, remember what Madison was like yesterday?"

	Oh, right -- she tasted too much of boy.  Bleagh.  Except -- "But 
you like semen, no?"  I mean, if he's bi, surely.

	"Not as stale sloppy seconds."

	I thought about stale semen for a moment.  "Ew."

	He nodded.  "Ew," he agreed.

	"But you still gave her good relief, right?" I whispered sternly.

	"I think she was satisfied," he said with a little smirk.

	Hmph.  Boys.

	"Time!" Madame Toussaint called out.

	As if she was trying to demonstrate her grasp on the range of 
cruelties, today Madame didn't teach us more rude French.  Instead, she 
gave a surprise test on the book material.  Which, of course, I hadn't 
been studying.  Evil woman.  I wondered if Spike knew her.

	At the end of class, as we packed up, Dana asked me, "What do you 
have after school?"

	"Thursdays," I told him, "are my own."  I had been thinking of 
dropping in on another class at the dojo, to make up for yesterday.  But 
I'd rather be with him.  Me with a boy best friend -- go figure.

	He raised an eyebrow at me, or tried to.  "Your place or mine?"

	I took a breath.  I didn't want to go home, not immediately, 
because of Jeanette.  So despite the problem of Ginny, I said, "I want to 
talk to Scarlett."

	On the way to chemistry, another boy suggested that his dick was 
something to try.  So when Spike showed up to photograph me, I was 
probably looking a little pissed.  I told her it was because of the French 
test.

*

Smith

For seventh period, I thought about attaching myself to Spike as she 
roamed the school with her all-seeing lens, but to be honest, I too tired 
for that.  I wanted to be with someone, though, or at least with people.  
I know myself well enough to know that by myself wouldn't be good just 
then -- I can think myself into a downward spiral like nothing doing.  
And besides, if I used a practice room, I suspected Sylvie would find me 
again -- either with or without friends who wanted flute lessons.

	And I certainly didn't want to get between Dana and her little 
crush on Sylvie -- not after her reaction to my telling her about relief 
during practice.  I'd had a glimmer of it before, which was why I didn't 
mention Sylvie had been one of those who'd accosted me in the cafeteria 
line.  Well, no, that had mostly been because the others were there.  And 
lingering shame.  Quite a bit of --

	See what I mean about downward spirals?

	Which is why for seventh period, I did something I never would 
have done on my own: dropped in on a Spanish class.  In particular, 
Spanish IV (Conversational), taught by my uncle.

	Uncle Rico teases me about not taking Spanish -- after all, since 
I was raised bilingual, surely I'd want to improve my family tongue -- and 
maybe get an easy A, eh?  But that's exactly why, as I said before, I take 
French instead.  And why I'm pagan instead of Catholic -- not that Mom's 
Catholic any more, but she's an active Christian in the Metropolitan 
Community Church.  And why I take shop and orchestra instead of staying in 
the tight Honors track.  Why I do crypto work that skirts security laws.  
Why I play up my manic persona.

	Not that these are my insights.  Have I mentioned that Dr. Thea is 
good?  She, by the way, encourages my contrarianism -- individualizing 
myself, as she calls it -- as long as I'm not just reflexive about it.

	Anyway, Uncle Rico was pleased to see me, once I explained I 
wasn't in trouble, but just needed a place to sit until Ms Angeles 
released my clothes from captivity.  He was especially pleased I was 
practicing mi Espa�ol.  I don't know what his students thought.  Neither 
me nor Gabrielle asked for relief.  When Gabrielle asked me, after class, 
what I'd been doing there, I told her the truth.

	"You know," she said with as close to a frown I've seen on her off 
stage, "that sucks."

	"Baby porcupines through a straw," I agreed.

	"I mean, it's nothing as bad as what the Program's done to Dana 
and Rodrigo -- "

	"What happened to Rodrigo?"  I'd been so wrapped up in my problems 
-- okay, and with helping Dana -- I hadn't heard anything about him.

	Gabrielle grimaced, or as much as her perfectly poised persona 
lets her.  "Same thing as Dana -- Surya broke up with him because of the 
Program.  It's that stupid relief thing."

	Well, in some ways, being outed was worse on Dana than the 
breaking up -- or maybe I mean the how she was outed.  But I don't think 
Gabrielle thought of it that way.  "Argh -- I'm sorry."

	"Not your fault.  No more than you having to stay late to retrieve 
your clothing."

	I gave her a Look.  "I'm sorry for HIM -- and for Surya, for that 
matter."

	"Don't be -- she was being a bitch."  After a moment, she went on, 
"I will admit, the Program has done some good.  I mean," and she glanced 
down at my crotch, "it actually got you used to naked bodies.  Never 
thought I'd see you without a hard-on."

	Gabrielle and I had a short fling back in my freshman year.  
We're still friends -- most of my exes are.  I never get close enough to 
anyone to break up messily -- yet another effect of my manic mouth.  "I 
refuse to answer that, Senator, on the grounds that it may incriminate me."

	Gabrielle smiled knowingly.

	When we reached the main school entrance and our clothes, Dana was 
already there.  She greeted both of us with some relief.  "Don't forget," 
Gabrielle told her, "Tuesday's Drama Club meeting, we vote on the play."

	"Right."

	Because it was raining, the clothes boxes were in the lobby.  It 
turned out that when Angeles planned this, she'd thought the overhang in 
front would be enough shelter.  She hadn't counted on the west wind.

	"Looks like some aspects of the Program weren't thought out 
completely," I said to Dana.

	"Ya think?"

	Between my early schedule and yesterday's crash, I hadn't seen the 
evolving afternoon redressing ritual.  Which turned out to be none.  We 
got our clothes and put them on.  Madison and Colleen had a few fans, but 
it seemed to be understood that once you had your clothing in hand, that 
was the end of your Program day.

	Dana and I dressed quickly.  I glanced around for Sylvie, but 
didn't see her.  I couldn't tell whether I was disappointed or relieved.  
Maybe she was having fun in a practice room again.

	We paused outside the door to confer about logistics.

	"By the way," Dana asked me, "how's Ginny?"

	"I didn't see her this morning," I said with a twinge.

	I must have shown my guilt, because Dana put hand on hip.  "Do I 
have to give you a lecture about not taking the blame for things you can't 
help?"

	"Ah, no -- Dr. Thea does that just fine.  I can practically recite 
the speech from memory."

	"Then do so."

	As we dashed to our cars through the rain, I tried it.  I think it 
helped.

*

Partlow

Dana's steep front steps are not something to run up fast when they're 
wet.  Unless, like him, you know the trick of it.  When I got to the 
porch, Dana was laughing.  I was half-soaked.

	"Be glad I'm not a dog," I said as he let me in.

	"I am -- you know how to use a towel."  He handed me one from a 
downstairs linen closet.

	Scarlett, it turned out, was home.  I wondered what she did, to 
have such a flexible work schedule.  She was sitting in the kitchen, 
cleaning a bunch of nuts and bolts in detergent in a bucket held between 
her legs.  Her hair was now black, a bad dye job that showed some colors 
underneath.

	"Shouldn't you be doing that in the garage?" Dana asked her, 
nodding at the bucket.

	"I won't tell your mother if you don't."  Then she saw me and 
scowled.

	"Um.  Hi," I said.  I lowered my towel from drying my hair.  "I.  
Ah."

	"I'm glad to see you, Dana," she finally said.

	Dana glanced back and forth between us -- looking worried.

	Scarlett said, "Boy, do me a favor and do a surprise inspection of 
Ginny and make sure she's not on the phone."

	"Why?  Where is she?"

	"In her room.  She's in Deep Groundation."  To me, "That's no 
friends, no phone-calls."

	Dana looked at me again and shrugged.  "To think she's raising me 
to be a narc."  He knew he was being sent out of the room.

	Scarlett snarled, and he went upstairs -- taking the steps very 
quietly.

	Before I could say anything, "If you're about to apologize," she 
told me, pointing a soapy finger at my face, "don't get me started."

	I smiled weakly -- I had been, for Jeanette.

	She grunted.  "Thought so -- I know what you Danas are like."

	It was a very odd feeling, being compared to Dana in his 
self-kicking depressive state.

	"If anything, we owe you thanks -- more thanks than Catarina can 
say.  Even with -- " and she snarled again.  Then with a sigh she pointed 
at a chair.

	I sat down.  "Jeanette."  I noticed I was still holding my towel, 
and wrapped it around my head.

	"Just so we're clear.  I'm not mad at you -- your friend is not 
your fault.  But if I ever see that girl -- if she ever TOUCHES my 
daughter again, I'm kicking her fucking ass."

	"With my blessing," I said grimly.

	She nodded.  "With a fucking cherry on top."

	Dana came into the kitchen.  "Nope, no contraband friends hiding 
in the closet, but I did confiscate a pair of tin cans on a string."  
Then before Scarlett could snarl at him, he asked me, "Snack?"

	My stomach growled at me.  "Yeah."

	We went up to his room with three slices of leftover pizza.  As I 
chowed down, Dana rummaged for dry t-shirts -- two of them.  He tossed one 
to me.

	"While your top dries," he said.

	"Um."  I hadn't been planning to take off my top, because under my 
backpack it hadn't gotten very wet.  But I was damp through.  And it 
wasn't like, at this point, modesty was an issue between us.

	He stripped completely and put on dry clothes.  I changed out of 
my top and bra.  He put up our wet things to dry on a line he strung 
across the room -- set up to do so quickly.  I wondered why he needed 
something like that, and whether I wanted to know.

	"How is Ginny?" I asked around a bite of pepperoni and mushrooms.

	"Surly.  She did something to deliberately piss off her mother, 
and was disappointed to get exactly what she wanted."

	Which was a way of looking at it I hadn't thought of.  I chewed it 
as I chewed the cheese.  "I have to say, being confined her room seems a 
little extreme for someone who's twelve."

	"Eh?  Oh, no -- she's just sulking there.  She's just confined to 
the house."

	"TV?"

	He shrugged.  "Sure.  Not online, though."

	I circled back to his earlier comment.  "Why did she want to 
torque off Scarlett?"

	"Probably the usual reasons.  She wants to spread her wings and 
Scarlett -- who flew from the nest too early and knows the price she paid 
for that -- wants her to wait.  The old story."

	"But was it really to get her mother's goat?"

	Dana put down his paper plate, his slice still only half-eaten.  
"Listen, if Ginny wanted to have sex without getting in trouble, she could 
have -- easily.  There's no shortage of boys and girls who'd gladly help 
her lose her virginity.  No, she did it last night, right here, for the 
attention."

	I gave him a wry smile.  "More wisdom from Dr. Thea?"

	"Nah -- common sense from Mr. Dana.  You don't think a career 
class cut-up doesn't know attention-seeking when he sees it?  She timed it 
perfectly -- even the moment when she left her room."

	That made a dreadful amount of sense.  Except -- "Yes, but you 
don't do what you do to grab attention, but to deflect it."

	He frowned uncomfortably at me.  I let it slide, and sighed.

	"You may be right," I admitted.  "Certainly her choice of 
co-conspirator got MY attention."

	"And mine."  Then under his breath, "Hoo, boy."

	I smiled.  So he HAD been attracted to Jeanette.  "Feeling a 
little CRUSHED, are we?"

	"Excuse me, as the master of the bad pun around here, that wasn't 
even bad -- just weak."  He fluttered his hand off, like a butterfly.

	"You're evading the question," I told him tartly.

	A glimmer of a smile.  I had his measure now.  "Okay, yeah, I'm 
crushing on her.  A little.  Okay, I had the hots for her.  More fool me."

	Ha.  "I'm just surprised she didn't make a pass at you."  Then at 
his guilty look, "Okay make that, I'm impressed you turned her down."

	He mumbled something I couldn't catch.

	I thought about the most likely way someone with no self-esteem 
would twist that to his own disadvantage.  "And I must say, for someone 
who claims to have no substance, whatever reason you had for doing it, you 
showed a remarkable sense of selflessness in doing so.  It wouldn't take 
much selfishness at all to have accepted her.  She's damn sexy -- and I 
ought to know."  Even through my anger, I could acknowledge that.  Which 
meant my anger was cooling, maybe enough to talk with her and not just 
about her.

	"Yeah, she is," Dana said.  Not acknowledging his part in that 
equation, I noticed.

	Time for another tack.  I thought about everyone he was attracted 
to -- Jeanette, Madison, Sylvie the sylph, Ms Emerson, possibly Spike.  
"By the way, just how many crushes do you have, anyway?"

	"At any one time?"

	I thought a moment.  "Are we defining crush the same way?"

	That struck him.  "You know, as the math person here, I should 
have thought of that."

	"That's okay," I told him sweetly, "you're a bear of very little 
brain right now."

	"No, I'm Eyeore.  And I want some thistles."

	"Sorry, we're out of artichokes.  No, seriously, how do you define 
a crush?"

	"That feeling you get when you sigh over a celebrity.  Maybe?"  
He chewed his lower lip.

	"Except I don't do that," I said.

	"Never?"  He looked startled.  "Not even for Ellen DeGeneris?"

	"Uh -- "  Okay, yeah, I think Ellen is cute.  "Well, a little.  
But not like I do for kids I know."

	"Well then, what's your definition?"

	"How about, a feeling of attraction that you're secretly relieved 
will never be taken up because they're unavailable?"

	"Except," he said, "sometimes you get to follow through on it."

	"But then it's just heavy attraction."

	"Not beforehand," he insisted.  "It's not a different feeling."

	"And then there's love."

	"Ah, well," he said.  "I don't know about that -- I've never 
fallen in love."

	"Neither have I," I said -- with more bitterness than I thought, 
for he looked at me acutely.  After a moment, I admitted, "I thought maybe 
I was starting to with Liz.  But I guess it wasn't, given how slow it 
was."

	He pointed at me.  "Speed means nothing.  Mom had been seeing 
Scarlett for a couple months before she started actually falling in love 
with her.  Love at first sight isn't all that common."

	"How long did it take Scarlett?"

	"She says she knew when she woke up with Mom the morning after 
their first night together."

	Which kinda proved his point, I guess.  We batted ideas about love 
and crushes and lust around for a while before deciding that if Dana's 
parents could tell us about love, they could also tell us about crushes.  
I don't know which of us thought of asking first -- it was sort of a group 
idea.  Dana's good as that sort of friend.

	Scarlett was in the kitchen, cooking.  When we asked her how to 
define a crush as opposed to any other kind of attraction, she looked 
blankly at us for a moment.

	"You know, I'd forgotten teenagers actually care about this kind 
of thing.  SO fucking glad to be past it."  Then she went back to slicing 
parsnips.

	Catarina came home then, so we asked her as well.

	"I think you need to look up the word 'limerance'," was all she 
said, before going to change out of her soggy work clothes.

	We did, and while it seemed useful, we couldn't exactly fit it in.

	Catarina invited me to stay for dinner again.  I was tempted.  
Really tempted.  "No, thank you," I said.  "I have things I need to do."

	"You can do homework here," she said.

	Dana gave me a wry look -- he knew what I needed to deal with: 
Jeanette.  But what I told his mother was, "No, I could stay here and 
never get to work."

	"Ah," she said with a smile, "that's the way of things, is it?"

	I think she meant friendship -- it wasn't like I'd ever DATE the 
boy.  "Your son is very talkative," I said.

	"Says my enabler," Dana shot back.

	His mother laughed.

	My bra was dry and my top almost so -- enough to wear without 
discomfort.  I quickly brushed out my hair, enough to travel home by, and 
tied it back with a scrunchie.

	"If you need to call, afterwards," Dana told me.

	Words cannot express how warm and squishy that made me feel.  
"Thanks," I said, and hugged him.  Quickly, before I lost my nerve.  I 
hefted my backpack on and left.

	The rain was lifting, just a light drizzle.  I hoped that meant an 
easing of the heavy weather between Jeanette and me.

*

Smith

Dinner was quiet -- only Mom and Scarlett talked, about what Mom should do 
about an affair between two of her employees.  Ginny was too surly to talk 
to any of US, and as for me, while the meds were helping, I was still off, 
and not back to my normal enthusiastic self.  Plus I was worried about 
Jeanette.  Or rather, Dana and Jeanette.  They had a far deeper friendship 
than Dana and I had, no matter how intense it felt.  Ours was only a few 
short days old, with lots to learn about each other -- hell, Dana hadn't 
even known I'm bi till today.

	But then, Dana hadn't known Jeanette could seduce a 
twelve-year-old, with such spectacularly bad timing.

	After I cleaned up, I went up to my room to pretend to do homework 
while I brooded.  About half past eight, Mom knocked on my door.

	"Just checking up on you."

	"No worries -- we're still out of cyanide pills."  I decided I was 
feeling better if I was up to making suicide jokes.  Even if it made Mom 
wince.  "Sorry.  Just slipped out."

	"I suppose I should take that as a hopeful sign.  You were looking 
worried."

	I waved my hand vaguely.  "Thinking about things."

	"You seem to have found a young woman with a good head on her 
shoulders, in Dana."

	I nodded.  "Oh, yeah."

	"Should I be worried about you falling in love with her?"

	I'm rarely caught so completely flatfooted I've nothing say.  
Even when I'm surprised, I can usually think of SOMETHING.  But the idea 
was just so ludicrous, I was shocked that anyone could think that.  I 
could do was stare at her.  

	Out in the hall, Princess Fuzzybutt meowed.

	Mom laughed, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.  "I 
gather by your open mouth the answer is No."

	"How should I put this?" I said.  "Oh yeah.  Yes, it is No.  
We're friends -- just friends.  And in conclusion, totally friends."

	"Just checking."

	"I mean, it'd be hopeless -- she isn't even a little bit bi."

	"Hopelessness has never stopped people from falling in love 
before."

	Well, true.  Hadn't that been the point of crushes, I'd argued 
earlier?

	She went on, "But I was more worried about the pressure you two 
are under."

	"?"

	"You know how in suspense novels, after only a week, the hero and 
heroine are together happily ever after."  I nodded -- Mom reads those 
things by the bagful, even though they're straight romances.  "It's a 
wonderful fantasy, but I always worry about that after.  Their emotions 
were seriously warped by the stress they were under.  After it's over, and 
life's back to normal, if they didn't have a solid connection, that 
romance is history -- and after a week, how much connection can there be?  
That's all I'm saying."

	I shook my head.  "Trust me, Mom -- this friendship's for real."

	She gave me a bemused I Won't Contradict You look.  Sheesh, adults 
sometimes think they know everything.

*

Partlow

Jeanette called me after dinner.  "We need to talk."

	"Yes, we do," I said seriously.

	After a moment, she said, "May I come over?"

	I took a breath.  Letting her into my room meant letting her into 
my defenses, back into my private place.  But it would mean dealing with 
her in the comfort of my own ground.  "Yes."

	I let her in the back door.  My father met us in the hallway.

	"Jeanette," he said with a frown.  "Should you be here?"

	"It's okay," I assured Dad, patting his arm as I passed by.

	"Ah, good," he said, and continued on to the den.

	I took the head of the bed, against my pillows, legs folded under 
me.  Jeanette sat against the wall, just like when Dana visited.

	"What happened to your hair?" she asked.

	I flipped the pony tail over my shoulder.  "Got caught in the rain 
-- I haven't finished brushing it out."

	"That's not like you," she said.

	"There's a lot of that going around," I said, then bit my lip.  
No, that was the problem -- Jeanette had behaved EXACTLY like herself.  
But I didn't correct it.  I looked at her.

	She was dressed well -- nothing remotely slutty, nothing that 
could be construed as trying to seduce me.  I don't think I'd seen those 
denim shorts since last year.  No bra, of course -- when she HAS to wear 
something other than a sports bra, she borrows one from her sister -- but 
neither did her shirt show cleavage.

	However, she wore the dangly earrings I gave her two years ago, 
for her birthday.  Seduction not with sex but memories.

	I refused to let myself shift uncomfortably.  I felt like a 
roiling mass of hurt and rage and confusion and longing.  I waited.

	She took a breath.  "I'm sorry if what I did upset you."

	Which just made me angrier, the way she worded it.  "You don't 
even know what you did wrong!"

	"I had sex with Ginny -- who, I might point out, is eight months 
older than we were when we first did it."

	More nostalgia as weaponry.  "Her age isn't it.  That's the 
problem her mother has."

	"It's just sex."

	"No, that's the point.  There's nothing 'just' about sex.  The 
Naked in School Programs try to pretend there is, but there's no sex 
without emotions.  If nothing else, orgasms change the way you think and 
feel.  And there IS else.  A lot else."

	"So you would throw out everything the sexual revolution gave -- " 
she cut herself off.  "Mon Dieu, that's beside the point," she muttered to 
herself.  "So tell me, amie, what is it that I did so wrongly in your 
eyes?"

	I couldn't say all of it.  Everything was all tangled up together 
-- hurting me, hurting Dana, hurting his family, possibly hurting Ginny.  
The most coherent thread I could pull out was, "Your horrendous timing.  
Of all things to do to make a crisis worse, that was it."  And not just 
Scarlett's blowing up -- I was also thinking of her sparking Dana's 
self-accusations over Sylvie.

	She gave an incredulous gasp.  "I was helping!  And I did -- 
teaching that girl the lesson she wanted to learn was the best way to calm 
her down and keep her out of everyone's hair."

	I pinched the bridge of my nose.  Maybe that had been her 
intention.  She'd said she'd help us, when she took Ginny off.  But I knew 
it was a lie she told herself.  And not a very good one.

	"Even if that were true," I said, opening my eyes, "you could have 
done it so nobody knew.  And you know it.  You wanted a reaction from us, 
just as Ginny wanted to torque off her mother."

	Jeanette laughed.  "And I see I got it.  You, ma petite amie, were 
jealous.  You've never seen me with another before, I know.  You've always 
been able to deny that I ever give myself to others."

	Which hurt, really hurt -- all the more for being a little bit 
true.  (Just like Liz's accusations, a small part of me whispered.  
There's no such thing as faithful in a regime of enforced sex.  Only 
accommodation.)  I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming, or maybe 
weeping.

	Jeanette paled.  She opened her mouth, but I said first, "I think.  
You'd better leave."

	She stood up, with a little wiggle in her butt.  When memories 
didn't work, fall back on sex?  She turned back to say something, but I 
ground out,

	"Now."

	After a moment, she nodded, and left my room.

	Only when our back door closed behind her did I realize -- she'd 
WANTED me to be jealous.  That'd been part of why she did it.  Why?  
Because of Dana?  But she'd made a pass at him.

	And been turned down.  She'd wanted to get back at him for that.

	I cursed myself for being an idiot.  And her for breaking our 
friendship.  And the Program for getting us all into this mess.

	After a half-hour of feeling miserable for myself, I got up and 
poured myself a bath -- with extra bubbles.  After a long soak, I was 
somewhat calmer, and strengthened by two thoughts: Just like Liz, Jeanette 
had been completely selfish -- they'd both been thinking only of 
themselves.  Dana was the most unselfish person I knew.

	I knew who I wanted as my friend.


[continued in part 6, Friday]

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