Chapter #15O Captain My Captain by: Seuzz   "I'll look around, see if there's someone good," you say. You pick your jeans up out of the bathtub. "Now, maybe you could give me a little privacy?" She gives a little half-smile and prances into the bedroom.
You give yourself a careful lookover in the mirror as you finishing preparing to return to the party. The mask smudged some of Alyssa's makeup when it went on, and you spend a few minutes repairing it after you have her clothes on. Good, strong features, a little bold, rather than pretty, and a much darker complexion than Kendra Saunders back at Westside has. Alyssa has noticed Kendra, and you share the twinge of jealousy that Alyssa feels at her sculpted cheekbones and lighter complexion. Alyssa didn't get where she is through raw beauty--though she has a good figure and a great deal of strength--and her talent on the floor is more athletic than graceful. But she has a masterful personality, and (you recognize, even behind her mask) really good personal skills.
"Where'd you disappear to," Jenny Taylor asks when you reappear in the kitchen. "I saw whatshername and the Incredible Lunk leading you off, and you looked like you needed rescuing."
"Nothing I couldn't handle. It was Chelsea Cooper. Do you know her?" Jenny shakes her head. "No reason you should. She's the head cheerleader over at Westside."
"Oh. That explains--"
"Yeah. Total freak. She was trying to get inside my head. You'd think it was the cheerleading squads and not the basketball teams that will be competing."
"But you guys have, like, a league competition, right?"
"Of course. Maybe that's what it was about. Anyway, I curdled her complexion."
"I wonder how she wound up here."
"Didn't you invite her?" It's Jenny's party, but she shakes her head again.
You find yourself studying her: captain of the girl's soccer team, and an excellent athlete herself. Smart, dating the captain of the boy's championship soccer team--probably the closest thing to the "queen" of Eastman in that school's more republican establishment. Does charity work ... Being Jenny might humanize Chelsea--or having Chelsea running her life might ruin Jenny.
"I smell a mystery. I'll snoop around." You freshen your cup with some more punch and wander into the living room. Jenny and Kyle are throwing the party to celebrate a recent win by the girls' team, so it's heavily populated by the school's athletes. But since it's Jenny and Kyle, there's a strong mix of other types: Sammy Orson and Kristy Carlson are gossiping and laughing by the fireplace; Geoff Dunholm, Eddie Wasnowski, and Cooper Black are in earnest conversation by the dining room table; Liam Mahon is entertaining the Ioescomb twins with his authentic Irish brogue; Adam Karter has Darcy Whitehead cornered by the stereo. (In the latter case, you make a note to yourself to rescue Darcy by sending Paul Zametti over to distract Karter.)
Now, where to put Chelsea? She and Gordon are on the back porch, holding each other. Gordon is looking skeptically at Shawn Gregory, who he'll meet on the basketball court when Westside plays Eastman in a few weeks--
A light goes on over your head. Oh, it would be too delicious! Your eyes dart around the room, even though you know the search is fruitless. No matter. Tomorrow is another day.
"I'm so glad you came," you exclaim with patent insincerity when Chelsea runs you to earth near the front door an hour later. You take her hands in yours to squeeze them, then lean close. "Stay available tomorrow," you murmur in her ear. "I've got someone picked for you, but they're not here. I can get them tomorrow, though." Her eyes narrow over her smile as you dimple at her.
* * * * *
"I'm glad I wasn't there," Ian Carpenter says. The captain of the Eastman basketball team hops lightly from foot to foot, and mimes a free throw. "I'd probably have punched that cocksucker in the face."
"You're too smart for that, honey," you say. "And stop showing off. He's not here, and you're getting in my sun." It's too cool and the light is too weak for a proper sunbath, but you're stretched out on a lawn chair in the backyard, in a swimsuit, trying to wring what rays you can from the late summer sun.
Ian grimaces, but keeps pacing. "Asshole's too dumb to do anything with but punch. They don't have any skill over at Westside. Just brute strength." He stops short. "Was Patterson there?"
"No, just Gordon Black. Or, I dunno. Maybe. Which one is Patterson?" He groans. "Don't be like that, sugarpie. I've got enough to worry about over here without worrying about people at Westside."
"Really," he says dryly. "Who's pregnant now?"
"I'll get a stepladder and slap you. Oh, this is pointless." You gather up your stuff. "September is pointless. Did you ever know a more pointless month than September?"
"February is twenty-eight days of sheer ennui."
"See, that's what I mean. You could tell Gordon Black to his face that he's 'onwee', or whatever you said, and he wouldn't know what you meant. Nobody at our school would know what you meant, either. Except Durras."
"Which one?"
"The dark one. Blondie couldn't find a ball under a blanket. What happened to them, anyway? They weren't at the party last night."
"I don't know, Alyssa," he sighs. "I wasn't there either. And what am I doing here?"
"You're here to see that video text thingie on my phone I told you about, and I'm almost ready to show it to you." You hike the towel into the crook of your arm, scoop up the two water bottles and magazine, and walk back toward the house. "Well, come on."
"Why didn't you have it outside for me?" he says as he follows you in.
"Because my mom said she'd throw it in the disposal if she saw it with me three times before noon, and I already used up my allotment. Besides, it's only up in my bedroom. Or are you afraid to go up there?"
"Depends. Are you the only queen cobra that sleeps there?"
"I'm in front of you, remember, which gives me the height advantage as long as we're on these stairs."
You lead him into the immaculate bedroom, which becomes markedly less immaculate after you dump your stuff on the bed. You grab up the phone from your desk and touch the screen a few times. "It's-- Now wait a minute, that's not-- Why the fuck does it think I want--" It vibrates in your hand. "Oh, fuck it. You figure it out." You toss it to him.
"It's finally happened," he says. "They've invented a phone that's too smart for the average girl." He fiddles with it. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."
"Then what kind of dummy does that make you?" You close the dresser drawer, having extracted the mask from it, and hop lightly onto the bed so you can stand behind him. "Here, let me see." You reach over his shoulder with one hand to grasp the phone, and with the other to press the mask to his face. You cleanly take the phone as he collapses sideways onto the bed. "Maybe too smart for the average girl," you snort as you connect to Chelsea's phone with the three quick flicks, "but the joke's on you, beanpole. I ain't neither. Hiya, Chels," you chirp as she picks up. "Can you get over to my place in two shakes of a lamb's tail? I got it all set up for you."
* * * * *
It's actually fifty minutes before she makes it over, but that doesn't matter. You have Chelsea's mask on hand as well, so after copying Ian you just put her mask on him, which keeps him docile and mostly pleasant until she arrives. There's a quick change of clothes, and then fake Chelsea--who looks a little miffed at having to miss out on all the fun ("Was she pouting?" Chelsea asks you. "I don't look like that, do I? I think she was pouting. I should kick her ass.")--is on her way back home. "Mask is in my bathroom, along with the clothes," you grin at Chelsea. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
She's about ten minutes in coming, and you tell your mom that Ian is "using the facilities." So, when she reappears--all six-feet-and-five-inches of her--you ask if she broke the plumbing. "All in working order, I think," she says. She's already got Ian's sunglasses on, so you can't see her expression. "Walk me out to the car?" You grin, and hold the door open for her.
"You're a clever little bitch," she growls as you walk to Ian's car.
"Don't you love it?" you giggle. "You shouldn't have put me in Alyssa. I wouldn't have dared do it on my own. But between her and me, we decided your relationship with Gordon needed a shake up."
She folds herself into the car. "Seriously," she says through the open window. "Why didn't you get me Straussler?"
"He wouldn't have been as much fun."
"But he's rich as fuck." She tips her sunglasses down. "We should take him."
"Don't you like being Ian?" You bend down to smile beguiling at her.
"You like being Alyssa?" She takes your hand, and guides it to her crotch. "You know, Ian has a serious thing for her."
"Oh my God!" You pull your hand away, for you could feel the erection through the cotton shorts.
"Stay in Alyssa if you wanna have fun," and it's a most un-Ian-like leer she gives you. "Or get me Straussler. Or take Straussler for yourself. That freshman he's fucking is really cute."
She winks, turns on the engine, and pulls back into the street, leaving you to stare.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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