Double Take
Chapter 24
“In a sense who you are has always been a story that you told to yourself. Now your self is a story that you tell to others.”
—Geoff Ryman, Paradise Tales: and Other Stories
FINALS WEEK was nothing like I remembered college finals being. I guess I forgot for a while that I was in high school. Classes went on as usual. The final took either one or two classroom periods. I was lucky that my finals didn’t all fall on the same day of the week. Ms. Garity had sense enough to focus the entire final on human sexual systems so I suspect everyone passed it. It was certainly the most interesting thing covered all semester. The rest fell in the category of ‘wash your hands and eat your vegetables.’ I was especially interested in the new male birth control that would apparently soon be mandatory since the legislation passed in November. It was an implant that immobilized the sperm. It could easily be removed and full motility was restored within two ejaculations. I thought what a field day V1’s timeline would have had with that. Here, it sailed through. Maybe it would prevent some teen pregnancies that everyone bitched about in V1.
Ms. Levy had a two-part final on Tuesday and Thursday. The first part was multiple choice and if you’d read the stories required for class and watched the movies, there was no way you could fail it. The second part, though, was all essay and tested both concepts covered in class and writing ability. Our thoughts had to be organized with clear topic sentences and supporting info. Everything had to be grammatically correct. It was hard, but I’d paid attention to that stuff and thought I did pretty well. Mr. Richards excused me from the regular Human Geography exam and gave me the AP level exam. This was probably the class I’d learned the most from over the semester. I’d never had anything quite like it in my V1 education. The final in geometry was on Friday and the high point was Rachel’s short skirt. Math is math. There is only one correct answer. The only thing I needed to be careful of was not applying advanced calculus to the solution of high school geometry problems. I wasn’t supposed to know that yet. It was okay.
“God, I love your legs,” I whispered to Rachel as we left class.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she grinned. “Maybe I’ll wear a skirt on our date tonight.”
“Do we have a date tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sort of celebrate the end of the semester. Right?” We’d only had one real date so far. Rachel was devoted to taking it slow now that she felt she had me hooked. I couldn’t complain. We usually had a nice make-out session after our study times on Saturday and Sunday. Joan had joined our Sunday sessions at my house, much to my mother and my sisters’ amusement.
“It’s no fun to tease you about having a girlfriend when you’ve got three of them!” Pey complained. “I’m eight years old. I should get to tease my brother! J and Beca and Rache and Joan sitting in a tree… See? It has no rhythm.” That was it in a nutshell.
Francie had continued to come over on Tuesdays and Thursdays after class, determined to fuck my dick off.
“You have three sweet girlfriends,” she said. “I don’t want you thinking with your dick when you’re with them. They have a lot more to lose than I do. Everybody knows I’ve done it at least once.”
“From what I hear, your expression and attitude on Wednesdays and Fridays has made it likely that everyone knows you do it a lot,” I laughed as I slid deep inside her pussy and she gasped.
“I have to admit, it’s made it a lot easier to turn down the gazillion offers I get from guys wanting to help make sure I’m really pregnant.”
When Rachel picked me up Friday night, Joan and Beca were in the back seat of her Toyota. Well, that changed the dynamic of our date but the two girls shooed us away as they bought tickets for A Dog’s Way Home and we got tickets for Glass. Neither of them wanted to see the ‘guy flick’ and wished Rachel luck.
I don’t know about her, but I sure got lucky. True to her promise, she wore a short skirt and not long after the movie started, she put my hand on her bare thigh and turned to kiss me.
“Just the legs,” she whispered into my mouth. “Not between. Got it?” I got it and was pretty happy about it when I discovered it not only included her silky soft legs but her breasts as well. I was rock-hard by the time we left the theater and had no idea what the movie had been about. “We’re not relieving each other. You have Francie for that and I have Izzy.”
“Who’s Izzy?” I asked, a little alarmed.
“My vibrator.”
It was four days before I could see Francie and I had to take things in hand myself when I got home. Damn but Rachel gets my motor running!
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Vinnie said at my guitar lesson Monday afternoon. We had the day off school for MLK Day but I was excited to have my first lesson from my Christmas present. “You’ve always been better when you disconnect your head from your playing. We just need to get you back to where you can read and understand music. I’m not going to give you any new music. We’ll work on exercises for sight reading and to toughen up your fingers again. You’ve got plenty of strength in your hands but no callouses. Don’t over-practice and get them too sore to play. Just like your other muscles, a little bit each day is better than a marathon session that leaves you unable to work the next day.”
“It’s not quite like I’ve lost all my memory,” I said. “It’s just that some things aren’t as fresh in my mind as they were. It seems like some things that I have to stop and think about used to come automatically.”
“You took a nasty rap to the head,” he said. “I think you’ll recover this quickly enough.” We started with basics like the notes on the chart and what strings and frets related to them. I was relieved that it made sense pretty quickly but my first shot at actually playing the notes in the exercise was a disaster. I had something concrete to work with, though.
I was suffocating. I couldn’t get air in my lungs. I knew I was going to die. My fingers couldn’t hold on. I was going to just let go. But the angel was there. She wouldn’t let go of my hand. It was the only thing I could feel. I knew that as long as she held my hand, I would survive. I prayed to her not to let go, even when I couldn’t grip her.
I hadn’t had the dream in a week or more. I could feel my eyes trying to cry but the tears were dry. It was like they were being sucked out of me like my life was. “Don’t let go of me, angel,” I prayed. “I will never let go,” she answered.
I woke with my baby sister petting my hand as she stood by my bed.
“Pey? Are you my angel?”
“Yeah, right. I just… I needed to come and see you. I needed to hold your hand.”
“I love you, little sister.”
“Don’t get mushy. I’m not one of your girlfriends.” I thought I chuckled as I dropped back into dreamless sleep.
Mr. Gieseke had worked with me on my second semester schedule to make sure I had everything I needed. If I wanted to be on the academic honors program, I needed four years of math and three of science. I also needed three years of foreign language. I had math nailed because they counted my test-out from Algebra 1 as two credits and I was doing well in Geometry. Unfortunately, both Science and Languages only offered second semester classes and the instructors were not willing to take a first semester student. I still had my core classes for second semester—Geometry, Honors English, and AP Human Geography but getting into the AP class meant that it moved up a period. That in itself didn’t hurt my schedule since Health and Wellness had been a one-semester class.
Jock readily admitted me to first period Physical Education I. A lot of that class was general fitness and I could continue my customized workouts. I planned to spend a lot of time on the treadmill but Jock reminded me that I needed to keep my body in balance and the weight training was just as important. I wouldn’t be doing any dance fitness or aerobic classes, though. The State Board was considering making PE an eight credit requirement under pressure from the National Service to get students in better condition before they began basic training.
We settled on an Introduction to Business course second period and I would end my day with Adult Roles and Responsibilities. I was a little confused because the Business class was considered purely an exploratory elective but the ARR class fulfilled my ‘personal finance’ requirement. Oh well. I’d been an adult for sixty-five years. I figured I could handle that requirement.
My crew continued to have fifth period study hall/lunch. I was happy to see them. Beca and I had our second period Human Geo course together and Rachel and I would continue to have sixth period Geometry. I didn’t make it to my first study hall, though.
“Jacob, you have study hall this period, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered Ms. Levy before I left her English class.
“Would you mind staying a few minutes?”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“When you entered my class, you mentioned wanting to become a writer. I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to rethink that goal,” she said.
“I’ve thought a lot about it,” I answered. “I’m really good at math. It comes naturally to me. I might even double up one year so I get all the way through calculus before I graduate. But that is not a long-term interest any longer. I’ve become fascinated with how authors make characters who are so real to readers that it is like they live and breathe as friends. I think there are stories in which the characters become at least as real to the reader as, say, a Facebook friend they’ve never actually met. Like, reading Maus, even though it is a graphic novel, gave me a completely different perspective on the Holocaust than reading The Diary of Anne Frank.”
“You mentioned that in your final essay, which is why I wanted to have this discussion. When did you read Anne Frank? That was not on your reading list.”
“Oh, um… a few years ago.” Shit! I stepped in it. That was V1 talking. I’d read The Diary of Anne Frank thirty years ago and had even visited the house where they hid in Amsterdam. “I was interested in WWII in Junior High.”
“An interesting choice. So, tell me what you’d like to write. If you have time, you could begin a story treatment while I still have you in class. Your essay tells me that you have the potential to become a fine writer.”
“Wow! That would be great!”
“So, are you anticipating sticking with a historical framework?”
“Um… no, ma’am. I’d like to try my hand at Science Fiction. Humanity’s first journey into space.”
“Tell me about it.”
“A lot of sci-fi is set far enough in the future that warp drives and faster than light travel is common. I’ve been thinking about what the first colonists from earth might have to endure. People launched at a significant percentage of the speed of light with a constant acceleration. In a thousand years, by their own timeline, I could see earth-time having advanced as much as five to seven thousand years. Plenty of time to get those pesky FTL drives working. Then one of those ships encounters the original colony ship that would have been lost to earth sensors for thousands of years.”
“So, a hard science book?”
“No. What I really want to focus on is the character relationships of those sent away from earth, seven thousand years in the new group’s timeline and, if remembered at all, presumed lost.”
“That’s a very ambitious undertaking. Have you considered first working with something a little less epic in scope? Say, a short story.”
“Oh. Um… Did you have a suggestion?”
“Perhaps. Are you familiar with the author and agent, Donald Maass?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’d like to recommend you get a copy of his latest book, The Emotional Craft of Fiction. It is well within keeping with your goal of creating characters to whom people become attached. While you are reading that, start creating a story treatment. Just thoughts and notes about what you would like to cover in this epic. As you are jotting down your notes, think in terms of something less epic than the entire Star Wars ten or twelve episodes. For example, the story Rogue One was a prequel to Episode Four, A New Hope, that came out many years before you were born. But it focuses on just one event and the characters who stole the death star diagrams that set up the first trilogy released. You could write that story in twenty thousand words if you didn’t have a franchise needing another two-hour movie.”
Of course, I remembered when the first Star Wars movie came out back in 1977 but I couldn’t tell her that. In my opinion, that one depended far more on space battles than on either the story or the characters. By that standard, Rogue One was superior, I supposed.
“If you really want to pursue the character and relationships aspect, find a POV that will capture the reader and let the story evolve from him or her,” she concluded. I was sold.
“I’d like to try that,” I said. “I’ll get this Donald Maass book and start putting together some notes.”
“If you can come up with a great story treatment in the eighteen weeks before finals, it will be worth a .33 weighting on your final grade. If it is a fully publishable short story, I’ll consider a .5 weighting.”
“Um… what does that mean, exactly?”
“An honors course like this one has a .5 weighting. That means that if you score a perfect 4.0 in the class, your transcript will show a 4.5. AP classes, like your Human Geography, are weighted at a full point, so a 4.0 counts as a 5.0 on your transcript, assuming you pass the AP Exam with at least a B.”
“Is that only for perfect grades?”
“Oh, no. A 3.0 would also be improved by the weighting simply because honors and AP classes are deemed more difficult than the baseline classes that most students take.”
“I had no idea. It’s like extra credit.”
“That’s the big reward for taking an advanced challenge. Go for it.”
“I will. Thank you, Ms. Levy.”
I had only enough time to hand my excused absence note from Ms. Levy to my study hall proctor before it was time to go to lunch. Beca, Joan, and Rachel fell into step with me as we left the study hall for lunch. As far as I was concerned, that was a 1.0 weighting factor for lunch.
“So, can you come over to Joan’s this afternoon and review DVDs after school?” Beca asked excitedly. “We have all the week before finals to look at and it could be the last important baseline for when we get this week’s videos. I noticed during finals that a lot of things got shifted around. The janitors had all the tables arranged in perfect rows this morning. I looked in before first period. Now look at them. Kids started moving chairs and tables around as soon as the first lunch crowd entered the room. So, how about it? Are we all in?”
“Oh. Well… uh… Tuesday’s kind of hard for me. I have… chores to do… at home. And homework. Teachers aren’t being slow piling the work on this semester. So, I guess, you know… responsibilities,” I stumbled. Rachel, sitting on my left, snorted and ran her fingers from my knee to my crotch and down. I squirmed. Beca and Joan looked at us strangely.
“God! Are you two…?” Joan said.
“No!” Rachel shot back. “The only time we’ve been out without you and Beca was to play pinball. I’ll come over this afternoon and help review video. Jacob might get a call tonight about the geometry assignment, though.”
“What?” Beca said. “Oh.” She was a little slow on the uptake, I thought, but she was looking at the stack of DVDs as if she could see what they contained without putting them in a computer. “Are you guys, like boyfriend and girlfriend now?”
“Um… Is that okay?” I asked sheepishly. I remembered getting my daughter’s permission to date Renie, even though she had introduced us. Beca laughed.
“Of course it is! You aren’t dumping Joan and me, are you?”
“Dump you? I’d never do that. You’re like my best friend.”
“And you let me pretend to be your girlfriend so guys don’t hit on me,” Beca said. “Thank you. I told you, Joan. Your prom date is still safe.”
“Prom date?” I croaked.
“We’re all in different years,” Beca explained. “Prom is in May. It’s not too soon to start planning.”
“It’s only January. And why would Joan need me for a prom date?”
“Haven’t you seen all the guys flocking around to ask me out?” Joan said. I looked around. In fact, I hadn’t seen much of anyone around Joan since the Winter Dance. Since…
“Did you become a pariah when you moved over to our table?” I asked in horror.
“No. I just told people I had a boyfriend and a couple girlfriends now. It would help if you kiss me now and then.”
“You should probably give me a little peck when we leave the lunchroom, too,” Beca said. “It would firm up the establishment of your territory. Have you noticed, by the way, that this table isn’t as isolated as it used to be?”
“Are you saying we’re not outcasts and people aren’t avoiding us?” Rachel laughed.
“Spheres of influence,” Beca said. “I can’t tell if we are a satellite or if our table is the center. I’m hoping the DVDs will reveal that.”
“Expect that there will be others joining us,” Joan said.
“I don’t need more girlfriends!” I said.
“They might not all be girls,” Joan laughed. “Usually, when we get to this table, there are only four chairs left. People grab them and take them to a table they want to sit at. Today, we have an empty chair at the table. Someone’s going to occupy it. Maybe not tomorrow, but I’d bet this week. It’s that thing about vacuums. You know what I mean?”
“Nature abhors a vacuum?”
“Yeah. That. So does my cat. If this seat is still here and empty tomorrow, somebody is going to get sucked into it.”
The bell rang and we cleaned up our space to head to class. I bent and gave Beca a little peck on the cheek and barely straightened up when Joan plastered her lips against mine. It wasn’t passionate but it was definite.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Rachel took my hand and we headed to Geometry with her giggling.
“Are you okay with this?” I asked. “I mean. I know we haven’t done a lot or gone out many times, but I’m beginning to feel like you’re…”
“Like I’m your girlfriend? I kind of like that, but don’t go getting any rings or matching shirts or anything. I don’t think we should act like we’re going steady. You have two other girlfriends, too.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Hey. They’re cool with us and I’m cool with them.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“And after school, go enjoy your ‘hard’ Tuesday afternoon,” she giggled. “I’ll try to make sure they only suggest Monday, Wednesday, and Friday study sessions.”
“You’re too much, Rachel. But I sure do like you.”
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