Double Time
Chapter 67
“Right, of course. But you keep the promise anyway. That's what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway.”
—John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
THE WEEK WAS INTENSE from the moment we stepped inside the school until we collapsed at the end of the week. Thursday, all sophomores were required to take the PSAT 10 test. Every sophomore in school, all 550 of us, were required to take the PSAT. This test had no bearing on college admissions but could result in National Merit Scholarship. That was fucked up since supposedly our National Service provided tuition for college or technical school. Apparently, however, there were tiers of schools you could apply to and the National Merit Scholarship allowed you to apply tuition-free to a higher tier college.
I was beginning to think that, like most government programs, National Service was cobbled together out of a dozen different programs and had to accommodate hundreds of different systems that were already in place when the Service was founded. Sort of like Homeland Security. I looked around the school and knew half the people who took the test this week would never be able to pass it in four years. Why bother? I guessed that college enrollment, which had already begun to show a decline, was going to tank in the next few years as people started depending on the skills they learned in the Service.
I was beginning to compile a list of questions to investigate about the effect of the National Service on our society. First, with mandatory birth control—specifically mandated to reduce and eliminate teen pregnancy—we would hit a point where there would be as much as a six percent drop in birth rate from pre-Service levels. This would then be picked up by an increase in births by people in their twenties as they come out of the Service and start families. The question arising in my mind was whether, having delayed pregnancy by two to five years, young women would then get pregnant in their twenties at the same or higher rate as in their teens pre-Service?
Then there was the effect on colleges. College enrollment took an immediate hit the first year the National Service was instituted. Supposedly, everyone who entered the service was trained in a skill that was transferable to the adult workforce. Having those technical skills when they came out of Service, how many who would have gone to college would simply not bother now that they could earn a skilled laborer income? Would colleges ever regain the numbers they once had? And as a result, would the value of education be reduced even further than the late conservative attacks on it had managed?
Finally, I wondered what the less quantitative effect on people coming out of the Service would be? Would we show an increase or decrease in violent crime? Would there be an increase or decrease in depression? Suicide? Marriage? Divorce? I wondered how many of those questions had been asked by anyone who voted for the twenty-eighth amendment.
Got a little distracted there. PSAT. V1 never took a PSAT. I took the SAT as a senior and filled out a form that said what colleges I wanted my scores sent to. Two months after taking the test, I got a letter from one of the schools that said they were happy to welcome me in the fall. I filled out their questionnaire and in the fall, I started school. I guess the form was their application for admissions.
I was thankful I’d been paying more attention in English and was better prepared for language skills. Even the math portions required that you analyze and parse an English sentence.
The recommended daily calcium intake for a 20-year-old is 1,000 milligrams (mg). One cup of milk contains 299 mg of calcium and one cup of juice contains 261 mg of calcium. Which of the following inequalities represents the possible number of cups of milk m and cups of juice j a 20-year-old could drink in a day to meet or exceed the recommended daily calcium intake from these drinks alone?
And kids say they’ll never use Algebra after high school. The math part of the statement was simple. Parsing the English was what made these questions difficult. And three-quarters of the test was English language. My extra sessions with Ms. Levy and her critique of my creative writing came in handy.
A subway system is expanded to provide service to a growing suburb. A bike-sharing program is adopted to encourage nonmotorized transportation. 1) To alleviate rush hour traffic jams in a congested downtown area, stoplight timing is coordinated. When any one of these changes occur, it is likely the result of careful analysis conducted by transportation planners.
Which choice for 1) best maintains the sentence pattern already established in the paragraph?
A) NO CHANGE
B) Coordinating stoplight timing can help alleviate rush hour traffic jams in a congested downtown area.
C) Stoplight timing is coordinated to alleviate rush hour traffic jams in a congested downtown area.
D) In a congested downtown area, stoplight timing is coordinated to alleviate rush hour traffic jams.
After four hours, I was glad to get to the final essay question. When I read it, I was especially thankful for the time Ms. Levy had spent during our study of Julius Caesar talking about argument and persuasion. Our little escapade writing arguments had been followed by a number of examples of logically constructed persuasive speeches.
As you read the passage below, consider how Paul Bogard uses evidence, such as facts or examples, to support claims, reasoning to develop ideas and to connect claims and evidence, stylistic or persuasive elements, such as word choice or appeals to emotion, to add power to the ideas expressed.
We had one sheet of paper to make notes and organize our thoughts and four pages in the answer booklet to write our essay. The whole exam, including reading, organizing, and writing, was allowed fifty minutes. The passage we were responding to was two pages long. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw kids starting to write as soon as we were told to open our booklets and I wondered how they could write something without having read the passage yet. That took me five minutes before I was ready to make notes.
I felt I’d done pretty well. I was able to pick out the salient points from the passage and make a few of my own in talking about them. I was shot by the time we were finished.
Rachel and Joan met us in the parking lot after we were done. Rachel had taken the PSAT 11 and was as tired as the rest of us. Joan was a senior and would take the SAT on November second. After her scores came back, she’d decide if it was worth her time to take the ACT or re-take the SAT in the spring. I wondered how many people who took the tests even knew what the acronyms meant. Scholastic Aptitude Test was originated after World War I as an Army IQ test. It became a standard college entrance exam in the thirties. The American College Test started competing about the time I was in college. Now, both tests were being challenged by the National Service Aptitude Test, NSAT, that everyone had to take within thirty days of their eighteenth birthday. Everybody wanted their slice of the pie.
Anyway, Beca got in Joan’s Miata. Desi, Brittany, and I loaded into Rachel’s Yaris and we headed up to North Side High School for the Girls’ Volleyball Sectionals. I couldn’t believe Livy had to take that test and then get on a bus to go play volleyball. You’d think the schools would coordinate these things better. All the teams looked tired when they took the court. It showed when our team only managed to take one game of their first match. They were out. At least Livy could focus on running now.
Friday, the first grading period ended. We all wanted to celebrate so we decided to go to the homecoming football game that night. Some genius decided starting a big dance after an hour and a half of dirty, and this year muddy, football was dumb, so the dance would be Saturday night. As it was, Livy left us at halftime so she could get rest before cross country regionals the next morning. The race wasn’t until ten-thirty, but it was at West Noble up in Ligonier so we had to get moving early. Brittany caught a ride home with her so she wouldn’t risk any parental censure that would keep her from the dance Saturday.
By some miracle, and a last-minute field goal, our team won the game and we were in a good mood when we filed out with the happy fans. Desi disappeared with Joan and Beca grabbed my hand.
“I haven’t spent any time with my boyfriend the past two weeks,” she said. “It’s been impossible all fall with school and cross country. Rachel, can I sit in the back seat with Jacob while you drive me home?”
“Sure you can, sugar. I might have to park someplace for a while so I can get back there with you, though.”
“Yeah,” Beca sighed. “Just for a little while.”
Beca and I got in the back seat and Rachel started the car. Beca cuddled up next to me. She didn’t try to kiss or make out. She really just wanted to be held and cuddled. Rachel parked at Eagle Marsh and crawled in beside us, sandwiching Beca. We just held her between us.
“I get so overwhelmed sometimes,” Beca started. “You two… You’re the only ones who know.”
“Are you happy you made the decision?” Rachel asked softly.
“There was never a decision to make,” Beca sighed. “This is always who I’ve been. I’m glad I completed the transition. My body and mind mostly match each other now.”
“Mostly?” I asked, petting her soft blonde hair.
“I’m getting counseling, you know? It’s kind of mandatory if you go through a full transition. I’ve discovered there are many levels to sexual identity. My secondary sex characteristics are kicking in. I’ve got a butt! I thought I’d be a skinny-ass boy-girl forever. I’ve never thought of myself as anything but female. But I’m also highly sexually attracted to other girls. Most boys, I find borderline repulsive at best. All except you. And with you, I feel like what sex you are doesn’t make a difference to me. I just love you.”
“I love you, too, Kitten. I love to hold you and I want to protect you. I feel very macho around you.”
“One day—I don’t think I’m ready yet, but one day—I want to make love with the two of you. Rachel, you’ve turned me on since the first day I met you and I love you as much as Jacob and Joan,” Beca said.
“Maybe we should arrange for all four of us to be together—maybe sometime in the spring,” Rachel suggested. “You’ve got to know I just want to eat you up.”
“That feeling is… mmm.” Beca’s words were lost in Rachel’s kiss. Both girls were squirming with the intensity and there were parts of me that were making their presence known just holding the two as they made out. Then Beca turned to me and I gladly met her lips. This time, it was Rachel holding the two of us as we tried to get maximum contact between our bodies. Beca ended up in my lap with my hand holding her precious little boobie.
“You’d better take me home,” she panted. “That way, you’ll have time to come back and take care of Jacob. His is the first penis I’ve had this close to me that I liked.”
“Well, why don’t you just continue to sit there and enjoy it while I drive you home? Keep it nice and hard for me, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
The ride to Beca’s house wasn’t long, but it was enough for her to untuck her shirt from her jeans so I could move my hand under it to her breast. I quickly found her hand inside my shirt, playing with my nipple as we kissed. When she turned it on, Beca was as sexy as any girl I’d ever met. I wanted to undress her and make love, right there in the back seat.
Fortunately, we got to her house before I could act on my impulse. Rachel and I walked her to her door and spent some time experimenting with getting all three of our tongues tangled together before she kissed us both soundly and went inside.
“How are you doing?” Rachel asked. We’d crawled in the back seat ten minutes after letting Beca off and were well on the way to getting naked. How could I be but great?
“I’m fine. It’s been a hard week, but it’s still good.”
“I can tell it’s been hard. I meant how are you doing with Beca? You don’t seem to be having any difficulty accepting her as a girl.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to have difficulty accepting her as a girl. She’s always been a girl as far as I’m concerned.”
“Can you imagine yourself making love to her?”
I sighed. Beca was so cute and tiny and innocent—despite welcoming my touch on her breasts and kissing like a maniac. But could I make love to her?
“It’s nothing about her past that would prevent me from making love to her,” I said carefully. Rachel had my cock in her hand and that made it difficult to put my thoughts together. “I want to hold her and cuddle her and make the world a better place for her. Would making love to her do that?”
“You make it sound like she’s a little girl and you are her doting grandpa,” Rachel laughed as she licked up the length of my cock.
“There was an old man who lived in my head
With so many pains he wished he was dead.
Then he jumped to this body all shiny and new;
Now he’s only a pain for me and for you”
“Cute. But Jacob, she’s only three months younger than you are and she trusts you more than any man she’s ever known. Please don’t hurt her… even if you have to tell the old man in your head to go jump in a lake. We love you.” She slurped me into her mouth, but I could tell this was just a preliminary for Rachel. She wanted real sex, not a substitution. She crawled up my body and settled her pussy over my boner. I sighed.
“Sometimes I feel the same about you,” I said as we began to move together. “I have to remind myself that we’re both sexually active and responsible adults and this isn’t puppy love. This is the real thing and could last us all our lives. I want to believe in forever love. I want to look into your eyes when we are eighty and remind you that I love you.”
“It might be difficult, but you’ve got to look at Beca that way, too. And Desi and Joan and Livy and Brittany and Emily. I guarantee you, about the time we turn eighty, I still plan to be putting my head between those girls’ legs on a regular basis.”
12 October 2019
I think what I told Rachel is only partly true. Not that I lied to her. I’m still sorting it out. I think the reason I can make love to her so easily is I can close my eyes and still see Rachel Evans in a poodle skirt and saddle shoes in my ninth grade class in 1952. She’s the same age as me. It’s why I’m comfortable with Desi, too. I close my eyes and see the dominatrix college professor Desiree Whitcomb in 1959. It’s more complicated with Joan and with Brittany. Joan is a lot like her mother. I remember Sharon Long intimately. It isn’t difficult to substitute her daughter in the equation. And once I made that commitment, all thought of Sharon dissolved from my mind.
And Brittany. Her Aunt Sophie is in the same class as Sharon Long. I can remember dancing in the living room with Sophie as we lost our clothes and slid together still moving to the beat of the music. And Brittany seems determined to bring us together. All three of us. I’ve noticed the way she touches her aunt when we are all together. Those little intimacies don’t come to strangers. And Brittany is every bit as sexy as her aunt.
Then there is Livy. She is the complete exception to the rule. One look at her long lean frame and everything in my brain disconnects except sex. I’m just thankful she has the same effect on Rachel.
We were on the team bus at eight o’clock Saturday morning. It was a little over an hour drive to West Noble and the races were to start at ten-thirty. Only our seven-person teams were qualified to start in this race but, like sectionals, the whole team was traveling to support our runners.
Sue slid into the seat beside me.
“Oh. Hi. Um… Not that I’m not glad to see you, but usually…”
“Livy needs space to get her head in the race,” Sue said. “She doesn’t need you distracting her. Look.” She pointed back a few rows where Livy sat alone with her earbuds plugged in and her head bowed. I wished I could hear what was inside her head just then. “You know, she’s only three seconds off the school record. I think she’ll break into the eighteens this morning. Then you can rub her legs all the way back home. Of course, you could rub mine now if you want.”
“Aren’t you running today?”
“No. I’m the eighth member, like you. Just couldn’t pull together any more. I’m a twenty-minute runner at best.”
“Well, I could rub your legs and stuff a little, I guess.”
“Yeah. Rub my stuff.”
Of course, you can’t mess around that much on the team bus. If she’d started moaning, there would have been hell to pay. But it was kind of fun to have her bare legs stretched across my lap while we talked about running and what she was planning for the spring track season.
We’d run at West Noble a few weeks earlier and it was a nice course. It was mostly flat and had a long stretch that wound through the woods and along a lake for about a mile.
Livy, indeed, broke the nineteen-minute school record at 18:50.3. But everyone was upping their game. In the field of ten teams and eighty runners, she was fourth. Her nemesis from Carroll had run just nine seconds over eighteen minutes. But our girls’ team was strong and we still placed third overall. The team would go to the semi-state meet the next Saturday. I did rub Livy’s legs a bit while we were waiting for results, but when we got on the bus, she leaned against me and went to sleep.
“My period started this morning,” she yawned when we got to school. “You should try running with a wad of cotton stuck up your crotch sometime. Anyway, I’m going home and curling up with a heating pad in bed. Say hi to everyone for me.”
I was worried that meant she wouldn’t go to the dance tonight, but she assured me that if she could run a 5k with a tampon in, she could handle a few hours of dancing.
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