Run Ch. 02

"The lunch lady? Why would she know?" Pat was being overtaken by the bane of teenage girls everywhere . . . the almost burning need to gossip.

"Why do you think?" Carolyn responded, leaning back in her chair and dropping her note pad.

"I don't know, unless . . ." Pat's eyes were wide open. "Really?"

"Yes. Does my 'choice' surprise you?"

"No. I mean, she's really, really attractive I suppose, but . . ."

"It's okay. When my parents first met her, they thought I was crazy. But I love her, and sometimes that takes someone being crazy to pull off."

"What's . . . what's love like?"

"Amazing. You'll see for yourself someday."

"I doubt it," Pat replied, a little petulantly. "I don't think people like me are supposed to have stuff like that."

"What do you mean 'people like me'?"

Pat closed her eyes. "People who's lives don't really belong to them." She struggled to control a surge of emotion. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," Carolyn said, a little excited. She was earning Pat's trust, but some things were still going to take work. "Why don't you tell me about these people who seem to want to talk to you?"

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Later that day . . .

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Keith and Gail were sitting at their customary table. They had a few hangers on from the usual crowd, but mostly they just talked to each other. Then Keith noticed that Pat had arrived. A lot of people were staring at her, and some of the other athletes were giving her hostile looks. Things hadn't been this bad before her incident with Keith.

Keith almost found it funny. THEY were the ones who had pressured Keith into making his ill-fated move. It was Keith's fault for falling into the ploy and it was Keith who had initiated the conflict. But it was Pat who was getting blamed for possibly hurting the school's chances at a baseball playoff birth. Then Keith didn't find the idea funny at all anymore.

"We need to do something," he said quietly, glancing at Pat.

"Like what?"

"She almost kind of likes you, right?"

"Define 'like'."

"She is less likely to injure you than she might, oh say . . . me?"

"Then yes."

"Maybe you should go ask if she'd like to sit with us?"

"You think she needs protection?"

"No, I think the first asshole who tries something will need a doctor or a mortician."

Gail bit the corner of her bottom lip. "I think we may be too late."

A couple of football players had sat down on either side of Pat and were starting to make some off-color comments about dykes. Keith doubted either of them even noticed the way she had shifted her body slightly, taking the dull end of a fork she found lying on the table and letting it protrude a half inch past her thumb. She had glanced towards one and then the other. She was already three steps ahead of them, and they didn't even know it.

Keith wasn't waiting for backup from Gail. He just walked over with his tray and sat down right across from Pat. She, to say the least, looked surprised.

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

Pat just stared at him. This wasn't something she knew how to handle.

Gail sat down beside Keith. "Hey, you left a book in my car on Saturday," she said, blatantly lying. She looked back and forth between the two jocks. "Can we help you with something?"

They looked confused. These two were part of the elite . . . part of THEM. What were they doing with HER?

"Hey Bill," Keith said, addressing one of the letter-jacketed monkeys. "I think the coach was looking for you." Keith had just done the guy a favor . . . he had given him an out.

Bill hit the other guy on the shoulder and the two of them stood up and wandered off, giving the threesome dirty looks.

"I didn't need your help," Pat said, quickly returning to her sandwich.

"Maybe. But they did," Gail responded with an over-the-top grin.

"It's part of our jock-protection program. Step one is preventing them from doing anything stupid around you." Keith took a sip of soda.

Pat's blood pressure was a little higher than normal and she felt warm. She was a proud girl. She had never asked or needed anyone to fight her battles for her. True warriors always stood alone. But she knew that these two, for whatever reason, had only been trying to help. And they probably DID prevent those two CroMagnon men from getting hurt and crying like little girls all the way to the principal's office. She took a deep breath, swallowed the air (and a little bit of her pride) and uttered a few surprising words.

"Thank you."

Gail almost choked on her meatloaf. Keith almost got a headache trying to avoid spewing his drink out his nose.

Pat looked at the two, a little irritated and a little amused. Hadn't they ever heard someone say "thank you" before?

Gail composed herself. "I also didn't want to lose my lunch when you stabbed that guy in the eye."

"I wasn't going to stab him in the eye," Pat said quietly. She paused for a moment. "I was going to jab him in the throat just below the jaw. He wouldn't be able to breath. I was going to stab the other guy in the groin. Not hard enough to . . ."

Gail had started to laugh. Keith had gone pale as a sheet.

Pat stared at them for almost a minute. Gail was laughing so hard she almost fell off her chair. Keith just kept muttering, "That ain't funny." And much to everyone's surprise, Pat actually cracked a smile.

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In Dr. Martin's office . . .

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"YOU WHAT?!" Lola exclaimed. "You shoud'n have said anything! You could get in SO much trouble!"

Lola had swung by for a quick kiss and to say hi. There wasn't enough time for any nookie, but she anticipated that Carolyn would have been in the mood later anyway. But then her lover had dropped a bombshell when she told Lola about her decision to let Pat Baker in on their relationship.

"I had to earn her trust, and the fastest way to do that is to put something I valued in her hands. She's not going to tell anyone. Trust me. I wouldn't endanger you like that."

"Me? I'm just the lunch lady. You've got a reputation and . . ."

"You're a lunch lady with six months left on her parole. I know you can't afford to lose this job. Your PO is a fucker and would love to write you up for something. And knowing all that, I was still confident in my decision." Carolyn wrapped her arms around Lola's neck and pressed her lips against those of the hot Latina. "I can always find a new job. I'll never do anything that I think might make me lose you."

Lola blushed. She should be mad. Carolyn's career would take a major blow if a sex scandal broke out, particularly if it involved another woman. But ever since they had first met in the Springfield Prison library, Lola had been unable to feel anything but infatuation and then love towards the hot redhead.

Carolyn kissed her, and the kiss lasted a while. Then Lola felt a familiar hand worming its way under Lola's waistband and towards her . . .

"Babe, we can't! You've got . . . oh God . . . you've got . . ." Lola was trying to object, but her lover's fingers were under her panties and fingering her moistening sex. Carolyn was also grabbing Lola's ass through her work pants and had started nibbling on her ear. Objecting was beginning to seem less and less reasonable. "You're gonna get us in trouble," she moaned.

"Just something to tide you over until tonight," Carolyn whispered as she ground her palm against Lola's mound and churned her pussy with those educated fingers. "When you come home tonight, I thought I might wear that prison guard outfit," she added.

Lola was already picturing it. Every woman she had known in prison had wanted to fuck one of the guards, one way or the other. Carolyn had known that, so she had gotten an outfit and had been waiting at her apartment when Lola got there. She had also handcuffed herself to the bed. Lola had fucked her so hard that she had to call in sick the next day because she couldn't walk straight.

"I figured you could ravish my helpless body, then maybe I'll fix dinner while you work on your poetry and then . . . then maybe you'll be ready to fuck me again," Carolyn added. She was rubbing her palm against Lola's clit, and Lola was pressing her hips against Carolyn's hand. She was in heat, but that was no surprise. Being around Carolyn put her in heat.

"You're gonna make me cum in my pants," Lola said.

"They're dark and stained anyway. No one will notice," the redhead shot back, moving her fingers faster.

Lola's skin had already started to shiver and she expelled her breath all at once. She clenched her thighs, trying to trap Carolyn's hand. The Hispanic girl was gripping the edge of her lover's desk as her orgasm hit. Even after the first wave ended, she felt Carolyn's fingers continue their exploration, albeit a little more leisurely. Lola's chest was heaving as Carolyn kissed the trace perspiration from her neck. She pulled her fingers out, offering them to Lola. Lola suckled on them, and then Carolyn finished licking them clean.

"Thanks for lunch," Carolyn said with a grin.

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Friday evening . . .

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Pat was standing in her room, and she had no idea what to do. 'How did I get myself into this?' She had wound up having lunch with Keith and Gail every day that week. They had taken it upon themselves to "protect" her from the rest of the school, with a small amount of success. The other denizens of Springfield High School had no idea what to do with this sudden alliance. Particularly since the guy they were wanting to "avenge" was now hanging with the enemy.

Then, Gail had quite publicly asked Pat if she wanted to go to the movies with them on Friday night. In a moment of well-controlled but very real panic, Pat had said yes. Otherwise, it would have made her two . . . lunch companions . . . look silly. So she was going out with . . . them.

"My eyes doth deceive me," came Tobias's voice from the doorway. "Our little girl is all grown up," he added with a melodramatic sniff.

"Don't start." She put her hands down in her lap dejectedly. "Tobias, I . . ." She stopped, looking nervously towards the door. She heard footsteps coming down the hallway. It sounded like her father, and any hint of doubt had to be suppressed. Mr. Reginald Baker wasn't fond of doubt.

Tobias felt a little chill. He knew that Patrice wasn't afraid of her father. There was probably only one thing in the world that scared her, and he didn't even want to think about that. He knew, more than anyone, how much pressure the girl was under, placed there by everyone else's expectations (and partially her own).

Mr. Baker walked into his daughter's room, almost failing to even notice Tobias. Tobias walked down the hall and down the stairs.

"You're going out?" the gray-haired, solid-looking man said. Mr. Baker and his wife had waited a while before deciding to start their family in large part to their respective careers, so there was a greater age difference in the Baker family than might be considered normal.

"Yes sir," she replied, staring at her hands.

"Is your homework done?"

"Yes sir."

"And how did training go today?"

"Two hours after we got home." She almost smiled. "Buddy was running really well today, so we stayed a few extra . . ."

"I think it might be good to get into a few competitions this summer," Mr. Baker interrupted. "Just to stay in trim. Want to be on the top of your game when you go to West Point," he added proudly.

"Yes sir," she replied. She looked up. "Have you seen Buddy this evening?" she asked. Buddy had wanted to show off a drawing he had done. But Pat knew the answer before it dripped out of her father's lips.

"No, but he's been holed up with your mother all evening. They're going to be watching that movie he likes. I'll talk to him later." He kissed Pat on the head and then left.

Pat was gripping her hands so tightly that the veins were clearly visible through the white skin. She stared at the trophy case she had built to house her brother's accomplishments. She had asked her father to help, but he had first told her that it was a silly project and later that it would do her good to struggle through it on her own anyway.

At the bottom of the stairs, Tobias sighed. He had heard enough to know that it had been the same old same old. He had never seen two such intelligent and generally decent people be such bad parents. If it weren't for the genuine affection that Mrs. Baker had for her son, he would have given up on them completely.

He heard a knock on the door. It was Gail.

"Hey Toby," she said, trying to get his guile. It just made him grin. This girl could be a good influence on the young Ms. Baker.

"Hey G," he replied. "Patrice . . . Pat will be down in a moment. Where all are you off to this evening?"

"Got tickets to the sneak preview of Serenity. It's gonna be off the charts."

"I'm assuming that means it will be good," he said rolling his eyes.

"Yuppers. Hey, is Buddy around? I wanted to say hi before we take off."

"Buddy is with his mother. They've already started a movie of their own, but I'll pass along your intentions."

Gail scrunched up her nose. "Does Pat want to stick around and watch with them? I didn't think you could peel her away from that boy."

"She does look after him, doesn't she?" he said fondly. Then his voice and face took on more somber expressions. "Unfortunately, Pat and her mother . . . well, they don't have the most cordial relationship," he said. He really wanted this possible friendship between Gail and Pat to take hold, and Tobias realized that there were things that the young girl would probably need to know.

"What's that mean?" Gail asked.

"I can't go into the specifics at the moment," the butler said, "but suffice to say that the politics in this household are slightly more convoluted than at the U.N. Sometimes I think Pat is the one lone activist trying to make things right in a very poorly run system." About then, they heard Pat descending the staircase. It almost broke Tobias's heart to see that some of Pat's tentative enthusiasm from earlier had been replaced with a familiar sadness. But he knew something that would cheer her up and maybe help her enjoy her evening.

"Oh Ms. Baker, I don't know if your father mentioned it, but your Uncle Lyle will be in town next week on business and will be staying here."

"Lyle?" A smile crept onto Pat's face, lighting it up. "Have you told Buddy?"

"No," he replied. "You know Buddy can't sleep when we give him advanced warning of your uncle's visits."

Pat felt a little lighter. "Uncle Lyle is really good to Buddy," she said, remembering that Gail was waiting. The two girls walked down the long driveway as Tobias watched.

'He's good to you too,' he thought. 'Maybe he'll be able to shed some light for your friends in ways that I can't,' he added hopefully.

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At the movies . . .

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"So what're you getting?" Keith asked, trying to draw their somewhat-reluctant companion into conversation. She had been dead quiet since they left her house, and Gail hadn't been able to fill him in on what had gone on there. Of course, he had been so busy gawking at the size of the house that he probably wouldn't have heard her anyway.

"Getting?" Pat asked.

"Yeah . . . refreshments."

"Oh." Pat felt as out of place as George Bush at a spelling bee. She watched the way the other patrons interacted with joviality and intimacy and realized she had no idea how to be like that. "Uhm . . . probably water."

"Unh unh," Gail said, butting into the conversation. "Eating and drinking healthy is a violation of movie-going etiquette."

"She's generally quite insistent on this," Keith warned Pat, who was looking confused.

"Damn skippy," Gail continued. "Since you're new to movie-watching-with-Gail experience, I'll make it simple. You must eat something fattening and drink something that is brownish in color. Popcorn must either have butter or salt, and you get double points for both. Nachos must have extra cheese and/or jalapenos. I recommend both. Hot dogs must have at least TWO condiments . . ."

"In case you're wondering, she's ACTUALLY got these written down someplace. When she started dating Todd," Keith said, looking at the aforementioned boyfriend, "she actually tested him on the rules."

"I got a 'B'," Todd replied, a little ashamedly.

"Did she ever test you?" Pat asked, trying to process the rules. Strangely, the rules comforted her. She understood rules.

"Nah. I've been movie-watching with her since we were old enough to go. Actually, I was the one who developed the nacho rules."

"And wonderful additions those rules were," Gail said.

"So what's it gonna be?"

Pat looked at the brightly lit sign that held high prices and caloric temptation. She made a decision.

About an hour later, Pat was trying to watch the movie and clean the rest of the cheese from her nachos off of her fingers. She had been tentative at first, particularly when she got to the mildly acidic jalapenos. But the combination of flavors had quickly become quite addictive. She almost forgot that she was in a theatre, seated dangerously close to a handsome young man who . . .

'When did he become "handsome?' she thought to herself. Just a few weeks earlier, she had been ready to rip Keith's arm off. 'It wasn't like it was personal,' she reminded herself. She glanced out the side of her eye at him, then focused straight on the screen. 'Stop acting like . . . like . . .' She couldn't bring herself to even think it. She couldn't believe that she was ACTUALLY acting like a teenaged girl. 'He's just a boy,' she thought. 'You can handle this.'

"Remember to breathe," was whispered in Pat's ear. Gail, unlike either of the two males present, had noticed Pat's awkwardness had had readily discerned the cause. "He IS cute though," she whispered with a certain levity, settling back into her seat while Pat blushed, thanking the Lord Almighty for the cover of darkness.

"I have to use the bathroom," Pat said, scooting her way quickly and vanishing up the aisle. She made her way at great haste to the lady's lavatory. It was the middle of most showings, so the room was empty. She put her hands on the sink and lowered her head. She was actually shaking, she had a headache and her heart seemed to be going a mile a minute. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her bottle of migraine medicine. She never went anywhere without it those days. She placed two pills in her mouth and cupped water into her hand. Then, in the mirror, she noticed that Gail was standing behind her.

"I just came to see if you wanted to talk," Gail said, a little worried now. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little headache," Pat replied. In fact, her head was spinning. She sat down against the wall, and Gail knelt next to her.

"Bullshit," Gail said. "Listen, do you want me to take you home?"

"No," Pat said. Then she realized she meant it. "No I don't. I just get these headaches from time to time. The nachos probably didn't help," she added.

Gail was burning with curiosity. She felt Pat was being evasive. "Pat, talk to me. This isn't you just a headache, and it probably isn't just you getting weak at the knees because you're next to a cute boy."

Pat tried to smile. The world wasn't quite so dizzy anymore. "No. I . . . I don't know what's going on. I don't even know him . . . Keith . . . so why am I suddenly staring at him?" she asked dejectedly.

"Because he's hot and you're a girl." She slowly reached out and touched Pat's forehead. Strangely, Pat let her. "You're burning up," she said. "Maybe you need to go home and sleep."

"Don't have time. I . . . I have to workout and train some more before going to bed and . . ."