Double Take
Part II: Inculcation
Chapter 12
“The thin girl was gulping down one of Richard's bananas in what was, Richard reflected, the least erotic display of banana-eating he had ever seen.”
—Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere
I DIDN’T SLEEP most of Sunday night. My anxiety over going to school the next morning made my heart race. How deep did the change in reality and timeline go? I would be at a different school in a different town but would I have the same classmates? Had everything I knew simply been shifted forward sixty-five years? How much even could be the same? I searched V2’s memories until I had a throbbing headache. What I got mostly were images of girls’ boobs, legs, and occasional upskirt flashes. The memory of ‘losing’ twenty dollars and going without lunch for a week was surrounded by so much anger that it brought tears to my eyes but it didn’t give me a face to go with the ‘loss’. I just knew there were bullies in junior high. I didn’t even know if I had the same classmates in high school since V2 had only attended a week of classes before he decided to date a bus.
I turned on my lamp and grabbed my new iPhone. Consciously, I was still learning how to use it since V1 had a flip phone and only used his Kindle for social media. Subconsciously, my fingers seemed to know how to operate the damn thing and could swipe words into it faster than V1 had been able to type. It was like my thoughts were instantly being transferred to my fingers and they took over for me. If I stopped to think about it, my fingers would stumble all over the screen.
I figured a little review would help. I opened Facebook and started scanning through my ‘friends’ list. They were scattered all over the world and out of the couple hundred pictures I looked through, only half a dozen were even from the same school. They were dark brooding kids who were as interested in suicide as V2 had been. I turned out the light and made sure the phone was charging.
Lying in bed with my eyes staring at the ceiling, I absently fingered my cock and as it rose to attention, stroked it gently. One dependable thing in the world for a teenage boy. The ever-present friend between my legs. Maybe a good come would knock me out and I’d sleep through what remained of the night. I thought about my time with Francie the day before and imagined myself sliding in and out of her hot sex again.
The bed shifted and I jerked my head around to see Em smiling at me.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she whispered.
“Yeah. I… um…”
“I thought sure Francine would have drained you. She was walking on air when I saw her this afternoon and wanted to know how soon she could come back to fuck you again.”
“It was… pretty intense.”
“I’m glad. Move your hand. Let me take over.” Em’s little hand wrapped around my raging cock and began to slowly stroke it. “I think I got over my jealousy. Not that I’m not still imagining what it would have been like to be your first lover. Francine did her best to make me jealous. No, not on purpose. She was just so high. And I got to thinking that there were probably other girls you’d like to get into bed with.” I was almost gasping for breath as Em stroked me toward fulfillment. “Touch my breasts, J. I know you like that and I do, too.” She kicked the sheet down around our legs so we were both fully exposed. I still thought Em was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. Certainly the most beautiful I’d ever been naked with.
“Em, I’m getting close.”
“Will I still taste Francine on you if I put you in my mouth?” She shifted around so she could lick the head of my cock. I’d had two showers since Francie and I had been together. I didn’t think she was going to taste anything but the flood that was building in my balls. In this position, I could continue to play with her tits with one hand as I stroked her ass and inserted a finger in her pussy with the other hand. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned. Then she sank her mouth down on my cock and I exploded.
“Oh, Em. Oh my God.” I gasped. She cleaned me with her tongue and continued to bounce on my finger. I got my senses back in time to help her over the peak, crooking my finger toward the front of her vagina to get that extra bit of stimulation she seemed to like so much. My own erection had flagged somewhat and Em fully engulfed my cock in her mouth as she came, muffling her moans. She popped off of it and turned around again so she could cuddle me. I couldn’t get enough of stroking her breasts. The moaning around my cock had me almost fully erect again.
“Don’t know about you, but I think I’ll be able to sleep now,” she whispered. “And don’t worry about having sex with Francine but if you have sex with anyone else, make sure you use a condom. I’ll get some and put them in your drawer so you have them. If you see someone at school who rings your bell, tell me and I’ll help any way I can.”
“Em, you’re the best. I love you.”
“I love you, too, J. Kiss me and then go to sleep.” I kissed her thoroughly and she left to return to her own bed. I thought about making love to Francie as I continued to stroke my cock, but the image that intruded in my brain was of my sister. I filled a tissue before I finally dozed off to sleep.
“Welcome back, Mr. Hopkins,” the guidance counselor said as Mom and I sat down in his office. Of course, I wasn’t going to meet with the principal. What an old-fashioned idea. In 1952, I’d attended a high school with about seven hundred students and issues went straight to the principal. My new school had almost that many in my class alone. The principal wouldn’t meet with everyone who had a problem. That’s what guidance counselors and other peons were for.
Apparently, my silence while I contemplated this was not unexpected and he—Mr. Gieseke—continued right on, talking to my mother. They discussed what I’d been studying at home and he seemed happy that I had my Algebra workbook and the papers I was supposed to write for English. Human Geography was all reading and tests I would need to make up, as was Health and Wellness. Of course, I’d have to make up the tests over the next couple of weeks and my teachers would evaluate my progress.
“Is it possible for me to move up a level in math?” I asked. “I’ve finished the entire algebra workbook and I think I could pass the final with no problem. I’d like to get on to geometry.”
“You’ve finished the entire year?” he asked, raising his eyebrows into his hairline.
“I really haven’t had much of anything else to do the past two months,” I said.
“Mmm. I suppose that could be a factor. We’re pretty flexible when it comes to getting kids into the right classes. Let’s have Ms. Freeman check over your work this week and I’ll discuss it with her. If you are fully competent, we can probably make the change, but jumping into the middle of geometry might be harder than getting out of algebra. Now let’s look at the rest of your schedule.”
It must have been a light day for Mr. Gieseke. I couldn’t believe how long it was taking to get my schedule set. Then he wanted me to take a tour of the school and to meet my teachers.
“Excuse me, but there’s one other thing,” I said. “Since I only have four classes the rest of this term, is there any way I could get time in the fitness gym? I’m trying to build up the strength in my injured arms and leg. I’d like to get off my crutches as soon as possible and get rid of this knee brace.”
“Oh! I don’t think I’ve ever had a student ask to be in phys ed. At least not one who didn’t think he was going to be an NFL quarterback. Let’s stop to talk to Mr. Anderson in the gym.”
Mom left for work and we made the rounds of the teachers. They seemed nice. I recognized just one of them. Ms. Levy taught freshman English. I remembered having a crush on her in V1’s freshman year. She got married and quit teaching the next summer. I thought she was beautiful the first time around. She was stunning this time. She was in her early twenties, I guessed, though she said it was her second year teaching here. Her smile was infectious.
“Jacob, how nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. I took it and felt shivers run down my spine. Maybe she wasn’t as mature as the ladies I was attracted most to, but my teenage memories from the first time around made it very easy to still be infatuated with her. V1 had not excelled in English because I was too focused on math. I planned to do better this time.
“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Levy,” I said. Perhaps I held on to her hand a fraction too long. “I’m looking forward to learning a lot in your class. I’ve enjoyed the reading.”
“And I see you have done the assignments. That’s excellent. This is not a criticism, by any means, but I want you to be aware of the fact that usually there is a critique between assignments so you know what to work on to improve the next time,” she said. “Please don’t think I’m being harsh when I ask you to redo an assignment in light of the critique of the previous one. I won’t do that unless I think you’ve developed a bad writing habit that needs to be corrected and practiced. Are we good?”
“It’s one of the things I’m looking forward to most,” I said. Shit. I sound like an eighty-year-old! “I don’t mean to be obsequious. I’m just really interested in improving my writing skills.”
“And why is that? Most students want only as much writing and literature as they have to have.”
“I’m thinking that’s what I’d like to do. I mean, become a writer. I love to read and would like to see something on the library shelves with my name on it one day.”
“We’ll find out soon what your skill level is and I’ll look at how we can improve it. You’ll find one thing, though. If you want to become a writer then you need to sit down and write. Not just assignments but thoughts and journals. I won’t make this an assignment as you haven’t even been in my class yet, but I recommend that you start keeping a journal. Write down your thoughts and ideas as well as what you ate today how much you hate the weather. Use the journal to expand your mind. And I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
Wow! If anything, my infatuation had bumped up a notch.
Mr. Anderson was another surprise. I was expecting some superjock who coached football or basketball. He was a young guy who greeted the idea of helping me get in shape with enthusiasm. Then I had to shake myself into V3 instead of V1 mindset. I was sure that to most of my contemporaries he looked a lot older than he did to me. He was probably near thirty or twice the age of most freshmen.
“You really got beat up, didn’t you! Can you get me a copy of your physical therapy chart? We’ll want to set up a program that is compatible. For now, the period right after your lunch break will do fine and I’ll get you set up on the machines. Next semester, let’s see if we can get you either a later period or one first thing in the morning. When you start doing serious aerobics you won’t want to be coming here right after lunch.”
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I’ll try to stay out of the way of your classes.”
“The guys in gym call me Jock. If you have trouble with any of them, let me know at once. I don’t allow any form of bullying in or out of my classes. You’ll find most of the guys are decent, especially those who are serious about sports and fitness. We try to foster an atmosphere of teamwork no matter what the goals are.”
“I don’t think I’ll have a problem, Jock. I try to get along with everyone.”
“Good attitude. See you tomorrow.”
We made one more stop before lunch and I met the librarian, Miss Lustig. She was probably the oldest teacher I met all day. I wondered how soon she’d be retiring. After receiving Mr. Gieseke’s assessment and hearing that I needed a place to sit and study in the afternoons she immediately went to work.
“Let’s set up this study carrel for you,” she said, leading me to a desk by the window. “There is an outlet here so you can plug in your computer if it needs to be charged. There is some traffic in and out of the library in the afternoons and the sides will help you to ignore it so you can concentrate. The only food or drink allowed in the library is sealed water bottles.”
“This looks like a great workspace, Miss Lustig. Thank you.”
“You appear to be a studious boy,” she said, “but I’ve made errors in judgment before. I can see this carrel from my office. I expect to see you studying or reading. I don’t expect you to sit quietly all afternoon without a break. I suggest, however, that you use a security cable to lock your computer and bookbag to the desk. I see you have one of the new secure backpacks with rollers. Students are generally honest, but some simply can’t resist the temptation to pocket small valuables. We’re watchful but we are not security guards. Your possessions are your responsibility. Make sure they are secure before you leave the desk to find a book or use the restroom. Are we clear?”
“Very clear, Miss Lustig. I’ll see you this afternoon after lunch.”
That was my orientation to school. Now I only had to survive lunch and wait for my sister to take me home after school.
It wasn’t too bad. I was pretty much ignored in the cafeteria. Mom had packed a sandwich, bag of chips, and an apple in my backpack and told me that after this, I was responsible for packing my own lunch or buying it in the cafeteria. The selections in the cafeteria didn’t look bad, but for a while, I’d have better mobility pulling my pack than balancing a tray with my crutches.
I figured my best bet was to pick an out-of-the-way table and just observe the group dynamics. With this many students, there were four lunch periods and they didn’t seem to be divided by anything more sensible than class schedule. I tried to be surreptitious about my observations but there were a few girls who were designed and presented to look at. It was hard to tear my eyes away from their bare tummies and yoga pants. I knew those were a thing these days and had seen my sister in them but for an ass man, there was really no fashion that had ever been designed that was more appealing. With the possible exception of nudity. I saw a couple of girls I thought were ill-advised to wear that fashion but no one seemed to care.
By far the most prevalent fashion trend was pretty much what I was wearing. Jeans and a pullover shirt or sweater. The jeans on the girls were almost as tight as the yoga pants but boys’ were considerably baggier. I guess mine were somewhere in between. I could spot a few nerds who wouldn’t have been helped by any fashion. Nothing seemed to fit. I knew this crowd well, though we weren’t called nerds in 1952.
And to round things out, there was a smattering of skirts on girls. These were usually, but not always, on the most attractive among them. The skirts came to about mid-thigh and were accompanied by the ubiquitous pull-over with a sweater or jacket. I could understand V2’s fascination with upskirt glances and disciplined myself not to look. Or tried to.
“You’re new here?” a voice asked next to me. I turned and saw a girl who almost fit the geek fashion. She was about five-five and wore ripped jeans and a sleeveless plaid flannel shirt. She had a hoodie sweatshirt tied around her waist. Her brown hair was parted in the middle and fell mostly straight to below her shoulders. A few untamed tangles jutted out like she’d just come in from the wind. She had a pink rubber band type bracelet around her right wrist.
“Oh… Hi. I’m Jacob. I… guess I’m new. I missed the first couple of months of school while I was recovering from an accident.”
“Must have been nasty. I see you’re still on crutches. I’m Rebeca. With one c.”
“Which one?”
“What?”
“If I ever want to spell your name, I’ll need to know if you kept the first c or the second one.”
“You are weirder than I am.”
“Nice to meet you, Rebeca. How’d you know I was new?”
“There’s a certain look. Somehow new kids who are scoping out the lunchroom crowd always seem to end up at this table.”
“Do you always come over to welcome them?”
“Not always. Not the creepers. I haven’t decided if I’m welcoming you yet, either.”
“I’m not a creeper.”
“Your eyes keep going to Joan’s legs.”
“Who’s Joan?”
“Whose legs have you been looking at?” I glanced around the cafeteria and lit on a blonde in a short skirt sitting backward on the bench at her table to talk to a guy standing nearby. Every time she moved her skirt rode up a little. I really, really tried not to stare.
“It’s hard not to notice her.”
“Well, you’re lucky you got here on Monday. It’s her trolling day. She wears tight jeans the rest of the week and hangs out with her date choice for the weekend. Friday, she switches to yoga pants that show every crease, if you know what I mean.” I laughed at that. I could imagine her using her spectacular legs to catch a guy’s interest and then making him her slave for the week. No doubt culminating in a disappointing date Friday or Saturday and starting the process over on Monday.
“God save the weak,” I mumbled.
“You?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“That explains everything that’s wrong in the world.”
“No. Most of the things that are wrong in the world are in their sixties and seventies.”
“Sharp. But until we’re eighteen all we can do is watch the news and hope someone comes to their senses.”
“You a freshman? You sound… um… more mature than I expected my classmates to.”
“Maturity has no freshness date. It doesn’t come with a certain age. For your information, though, I am a freshman, though I’m taking mostly sophomore classes. You?”
“Freshman with a light load since I only took what I can catch up on this semester. I’ll be sitting in the library most afternoons. After gym.”
“You’re taking gym? On crutches?”
“More like physical therapy. Trying to strengthen my leg and my arms so I can get off these.”
“Great. I’ll give you six weeks.”
“What?”
“Six weeks to get off the crutches so you can take me to the Winter Dance in December. It’s the week before break. That will give us a two-week cooling off period before I see you again. Then we’ll decide if there’s any reason to go out.”
“Uh… You seem to have this all figured out. Do we… uh… get to hang out before this big dance?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll see you here most days for lunch. There’s a caveat. If you start acting like a jerk I’ll stand you up for the dance.”
“Same here.”
“What? I’m not a jerk!”
“I’ll need more than your word on that. I figure you’ll show your stripes before then if you are a jerk.”
She stared at me with her mouth open a bit and started to huff. Just then the bell rang and I needed to go to the library. I smiled at her and we both laughed.
“Nice job, by the way,” she said.
“What?”
“You didn’t look at Joan’s legs once after I sat down.”
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