Master Yoshi

Expecting the topic to be my bumping her over - it wasn't.

She said, "Yeah. So. I'm doing the Flat Tail [our student newspaper, in a town called Beaver, this made sense] this year. And I ... forgot to take pictures today! I was supposed to do that at the meet, but... yeah. I'm wondering if I can get a picture of you, like, in your track uniform? Like, this afternoon?"

Her voice sounded reasonable but kind of stressed. This seemed like both an everyday thing as well as a totally made-up excuse. I thought back to the meet, and I remembered someone else taking a lot of pictures. There's no way she'd forgotten to take mine. So, something else was up.

Still, it was a chance to hang out with the owner of that Amazing Ass, even if I didn't get to look at it.

"Sure, yeah, no problem. Come on over."

"Uh... Could you come over here? My dad's kind of... way over-protective?"

"Where do you live?"

She told me. It was only about 2 miles away, farther out of town on a ranch.

My legs were hurting, but I was probably okay for that ride, despite it being through some hills. "Uh, yeah, but... my legs are kinda jelly, it'll take me a bit, and I need a shower and lunch..."

With a more urgent tone, she said, "It's fine. Really Lots Better if you're still in your track suit. Just... bring... yourself. No worries. I have a brush here, too. I just need... It would be... can you get here in like the next half hour, ish?"

"I'll try. Might be just that long."

"See you when you get here. Depending on you."

We said goodbyes and I went to my room to grab my backpack, freshly dropped on my bed. I had to wash my stuff, but it'd have to wait. Thinking I might want to do some homework or help her get the digital pictures somewhere, I stuffed in my ancient laptop, and a novel just in case, and headed out the door again.

The debate was, do I try the ancient moped I'd been fixing up? I'd gotten it to run around, up and down the lane, choking and spurting all the way. I'd been giving it some thought as to what it might be that was causing the problem, maybe the carburetor, or maybe the gas was old.

Granted, I'd put in some strong gas treatment when I'd tried it last, the previous weekend, so maybe that had cleaned things without me having to work at it.

Spending a minute just wheeling it out and looking over everything (tires full, check, etc.), I tried again. It didn't turn over at all - completely dead. That was GOOD! Aha! No action means a battery problem, and that's easy. I got our emergency jumpstart pack (a lithium-ion battery) and hooked it up.

Zoom! Yes! No Extreme Leg Muscle Trauma today!

I threw the jumpstart pack in my backpack just in case. You never knew.

Down the road a half mile I realized I'd only had about half my second sandwich, and I hadn't let Tallia know where I was going, so I stopped and texted Tallia that I was going over to a track-teammates' and I'd be home before supper.

Tallia had moved in when Zeke and Brenda moved out. I'd barely known her growing up, she was always in the main house, but she'd taken advantage of an empty bedroom in ours, and in the process we got cooked meals sometimes.

She was always a little odd with me, though, and I didn't know what was up.

Anyway, text to Tallia done, I kept going, easily finding Carrie's farm since I rode the bus to school sometimes (in winter) and that's where she got off. Her mentioning her address was just so I didn't seem like a stalker, I knew where she lived.

Brrrrrt-ing down her lane (moped sounds FTW), I passed a gate that said, 'Trespassers will be Violent-ated' and 'Live Free of Tyrants'. Another one read, 'Got a Warrant? Bring a Gun!'

'Lovely people!' I thought, grimaced, and went in farther.

Another sign. And, another. Each was more blatantly racist than the next, including using the N-word and some pictures of blackface captions. Well then.

I was tempted to turn around. My skin tone was plenty white, and despite my Mom's Japanese heritage I didn't look Asian, so I figured I was pretty safe. Besides, Carrie wouldn't invite me to a disaster.

Probably?

The house was ramshackle at best. No paint had touched it in decades, nor the barns and outbuildings, nor the remains of a crappy motorcycle in front. A freshly-tilled garden, in our area, meant they worked for their veggies just as much as we did.

As I came into their parking-area, I saw behind the house they had an ancient RV on blocks. Between the side of that RV and the house, a whole bunch of laundry was hanging on ropes, which wouldn't have been unheard of, but those clothes? Most were jet-black dresses, white aprons, Carhartt work-jeans, and gray or rust-colored shirts.

There's no mistaking the stains that come from too much natural rust in the well-water.

Carrie came out of the door and made patting down motions urgently, so I stopped fast and shut off the moped's motor. She fast-walked up to me, but then pulled up to a formal-posture stop about 10 yards away from me and kept her distance, always at a right angle to the house. This wasn't random. She was making sure someone in the house could see she was keeping her distance.

Instead of her normal school clothes (sweatshirts, long-sleeve shirts, or tall-neck blouses), she was wearing a super-formal get-up: long black heavyweight pleated skirt, black high-collared long-sleeve blouse/shirt, and black apron sewn from fragments of other garments and dyed black. That apron had seen better days.

Behind her, the door opened and a severe looking woman walked out on the porch, regarding me suspiciously.

Carrie said, formally, like TOO formally and then way over-winking with one eye (faced away from the lady) she said, "Kevin. Thank you so kindly, sir, for coming over on such short notice."

"No problem, uh, Carrie."

She whispered urgently, "Call me Miss Aster?!?!?"

I whispered back, "Oh, okay," then added louder, "Oh, I mean, Miss Aster."

The lady was in my line of sight behind Carrie so I saw her tilt her head in a small nod. I was pretty sure I recognized the lady... From church! I had it. She'd been to our church before.

I got off my moped, pulled off my helmet (a bike helmet, but better than nothing), then shucked off my backpack. Looking down, I said loudly enough to be overheard, "Whatever you need, I'm happy to help, ma'am." The ma'am part was an inspired idea, by the look of the lady this was one of those odd things I'd heard about at school.

She responded with a whisper, "Don't promise things you can't deliver, Kevin." Louder, she said, "I should like to invite you into our house, but I'm afraid we're not exactly ready for visitors. Can we talk about our assignments out here? Maybe on the swings over there?"

Gone was any mention of our track team pictures.

"Sure!"

I bent down and got my laptop out of my backpack, slowly, but she shush'd that, so I got a notebook and a pen out instead. It was my running notebook, with notes on times and whatever, but the lady didn't need to know that.

We went over and sat on a homemade swing set. It was large and made from notching an oil field pipe in the crook of a tree on one side, and having two cross-braces on the other. Roped-on wood-seat swings made it Seriously Low Tech.

Seeing that, I realized there was absolutely nothing in view of me that cost any amount of money at all, maybe with the exception of the Carhartt jeans on the line.

She pulled one of the swings way away from the other one, and motioned for me to sit down so there was a good bit of distance between us.

Granted, we were all the way across the parking area from the house, at least 30 or 40 yards, so well away from the lady. That lady came the rest of the way out of the house and sat down on what had obviously once been a porch swing but was propped up on some metal bits and now was just a bench.

Again, No Money.

The lady's hands held a book and she crossed her legs under her skirt, watching us and almost pretending to read at the same time, but I doubted she did more than glance at the book.

I aimed my swing chair partway at her and made like I was going to write, opening up the notebook. "Looks like you have a much more interesting life than I'd envisioned, Carrie."

She looked at me and I saw a tear. "I am SOOOoo sorry I bit your head off this morning. I didn't mean to." she paused, considered, and corrected, "No, I actually did mean to. I was so exhausted, and tired from the race, and Joanie was riding my case about talking to Dan. As if that can go anywhere."

Laughing mildly but watching myself because we were so observed, I said, "Yep. You are precisely one biological gender off from being Dan's 'type'."

She looked at me oddly for using 'biological gender', I think. "Yeah. Joanie reports EVERYTHING to Rachel or Ferne, my moms. They treat her like gold leaf."

"You're under pretty tight control here, looks like."

"You have no idea. I have bruises all over my body to prove it. But. I have a plan."

There was no response to this other than, "I want to help. Tell me how to help."

Her head turned so her hair was in the way and the lady couldn't see. She said, "Joanie and I. We have a plan. Trouble is, we honestly can't ask you to help. It's too dangerous. Still. We're desperate. There's ... big stuff. I'm probably not going to be at school on Monday. Or, Ever, anymore. Neither will Joanie. We might not be entirely... alive."

Seeing the lady looking at us, I decided a lighthearted bit of body language would help, so I smiled and tilted my head like I was thinking of something almost-funny.

Instead, out of my mouth, the words were different. "If you are serious about needing help, you need to tell me what you need. I'm Here."

"If it blows up, you might get hurt."

"I've been hurt before. It's overrated."

"Kidnap me, and Joanie. Take us away. Anywhere. Literally, anywhere. Or, if you play piano... play a eulogy."

"That bad?"

"Life and death, Kevin. No joke. I'd never joke about this. It's coming to a head. Joanie is going to come out in a minute. If she doesn't, ride home, call the sheriff, report a rape and possible murder, lots of weapons, in my house, and let them handle it."

"If she does come out?"

"Can we sleep on your floor?"

I thought about that, and pretended to write, then tilted my head up playfully, like we really were doing an assignment. I said, "I'm kind of limited. I do have a queen bed, I guess. You and Joanie could share that, and I have a camping mattress for my floor. You'd have to walk around my desk, there's not a lot of space. The main room is kind of taken-over by Tallia's alterations business."

She looked at me with such a confused face. "You would give up your bed, to let me sleep there? I'm a total bitch. You should hate me."

I thought about it. "That went out the window the moment I drove past your front gate, Carrie. Still, Wow. I don't know if I could sell the idea of you being at our house. Two gorgeous girls in my bedroom? Riiiiight! My family?" I laughed, but then considered it. "They might buy into it if it's only a few weeks, it'd be the grocery money, probably. Other than that, they wouldn't care about me, they'd be obsessed with whether you were safe, from me, I guess. Might only be a couple of weeks, until school's out? Or maybe forever?" I cast my eyes about, grinning, throwing caution to the wind, "I'm not exactly a good catch, Carrie. I'm kind of a slob sometimes. Besides, would Joanie actually want to come? Is she even going to graduate?"

I didn't know much about Joanie. She was a junior, I thought.

"She's a senior by hours. She mentioned she could skip senior year if she finishes this semester, or just take the GED. She would walk to town naked if it got her away from Uncle Duke."

I laughed, getting kind of silly imagining it, "I'd pay cash money to see that, she's as gorgeous as you are. Heck, I'd marry you both if it'd help but I think Pastor Jergins would draw the line at one."

When I sad that, she inhaled sharply, and tilted her head to the side so her expression wasn't visible to the mom on the porch. "Do NOT say things you don't mean, sir."

"I'm not being mean, and I'm plenty serious. For that matter, why are you calling me, 'sir'?"

Her face was still wide-eyed, mouth with pursed lips like she was casting about for ideas. Dismissively, she said, "Oh, habits. Whatever. You aren't serious, I know, but... 'There're more things are on Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy', Sir. So. maybe we could create a diversion."

I looked at her and waited, considering. "You ... are serious? I'm not exactly marriage material, Carrie. I'm way too honest. I'd tell you what I really want, you'd take it the wrong way, I'd be in the doghouse, literally, the dog house, you'd be pissed and in my bed, and I'd get beaten up by my cousins for disrespecting you. My willingness is not the problem."

We sat there quietly for a minute, and I started to say something, and she said, "Please be quiet for a couple of minutes, I have to think."

It was minutes. Finally, she stood up and cupped her hands yelling, "Rachel!?! Can you send Joanie out here please? It's important." She slightly emphasized the word, 'important'.

Rachel, on the porch, stood and yelled into the door of the mobile. Another minute later, Joanie came out, cautiously, was waved over to us, and walked up.

As soon as she got near us, I saw she had the exact same dress that Carrie did, down to an apron made from patchwork and dyed fabrics. Joanie saw me, and I could see she was afraid, glancing back at who I figured out was her mother back on the porch.

She said quietly, "What the living hell are you doing pulling me out here! You were supposed to wait. You said 'important' not 'urgent, so I did the superglue. We're in the fast water now! Time! Seconds count."

Carrie said, "Wow. Okay, so we're committed. Fuck. Clock is ticking. Joanie, Kevin is a Go for plan C, so... get your brain ready. It's plan C, we go with C. Kevin is our savior. Got your shoes?"

I'd never heard Carrie swear. It was odd.

"Hung on my skirts, inside. I'm 30 seconds from go. Backpacks are behind the pine tree."

Carrie turned to me, still mimicking a carefree body language despite her words. Her eyes and voice were directed at Joanie, though. "This next part is gonna get interesting. First, you should know. Kevin has offered. I didn't even do the asking. 2M is actually on the table."

Joanie blinked, and I saw tears form. "I'm scared..."

"Hold on, almost there. Ready to get your shoes?"

"I can still blame the superglue on you. We have to be Really Really Sure... Duke is on the linoleum. His face is going to have a design tonight when he sobers up. I don't dare turn him, even if I could lift him. I could have done more, but... I'm ... I can't do violence, even... even knowing."

"Kevin has offered..." She turned to me. "We need to be very clear. Kevin, she needs to hear if from you."

They turned to me. I said, "To sleep on the floor?"

Carrie calmly and somewhat sternly said, "Nooooo. You just said, 'heck, I'd marry you both if it'd help,' and then, 'two gorgeous girls in my bedroom'. Did you, or did you not say that?"

"Uh... yeah? Of course? I'm not trying to force you into anything, I'm trying to be a gentleman here. I absolutely would. That you'd accept seems both... confusing and too good to be true. I'm all in, no worries from me. You like Australia?" I smiled. I meant it.

Joanie looked at me.

Joanie's always been more quiet, more reserved, but also very much goody 2-shoes and tattle-tale as a personality type, which had made me nervous early on at school until I figured out she only tattled on her sister.

Her personality made it more strange as she said what she said, again overly proper.

Joanie's back was to the porch-lady and she could have been asking if I wanted tea. "Kevin Fenimore Cooper. Yes, I know your middle name. I've known you since third grade, at least. Your character is clean. You are morally upright, sir. Not the question now. The question now is, how do we get down that lane and never come back."

Carrie clarified, "Joanie, it's not that. It's how do we NOT end up dead, in a ditch. You know Duke. Or, Pa. We might be okay one day, but... That's not how this works."

Joanie's eyes were dropping tears. "I didn't think this was possible, and... so... soon." She was nervous. "Rachel is going to get suspicious. We have 5 minutes, tops. I do, at least."

Carrie looked at her, her voice deadly serious, "Joanie. This is a life choice moment. Do you agree to the pair bond with Kevin?"

I was half-disbelieving and half-panicking as she was saying this. The very idea of getting married, like, on the spur of the moment? As an offhand comment, as a compliment? Sure. Still. I thought about the two of them. As a fast choice, Wow. Thinking about it, I got some vertigo again. WTF was happening...?

Did I really think I could do that?

Did I have that kind of an interest, in Joanie? In Carrie?

Sure, I'd known them in school forever. Both had been distant to me, and Carrie had been outright hostile.

Why was Carrie treating her well, when I knew there was rivalry?

That meant I had a question for Joanie.

Joanie had been silent, considering the question. She came back with, "Whether I agree or not isn't the point, I agreed already. YOU told me, you'd hatch a plan. You said, it'd be Good, a Goodly Plan, a Godly Plan, a plan that was morally straight-up, but SAFE, it'd make us SAFE, Carrie. It has to be safe. I agreed, I was putting my trust in you. MY LIFE. Is this...?"

She glanced at me, desperation in her face.

I could only look back, concerned for her, caring about her, but caring about Carrie, too.

Carrie repeated the question to her. "Do you agree to pair-bond with Kevin. Yes or no. We both know, the trendline on this, life and death, and it's all I've got. I don't have another plan. There is no backup, no plan D, or at least that's a longshot anyway. I've been thinking about this for a while, but... it occurred to me this morning, right after I tripped over Kevin then blamed him for it. He apologized. Yes. Yes, Kevin's the one."

Joanie looked at me, and back at Carrie. "What are his conditions?"

Carrie said, exasperated, "There are no conditions, Joanie. Pretty doesn't help you. Cordial doesn't help you. Goody-two-shoes works against you - for all we know, Kevin's a horny bastard-man. It just doesn't matter. You say you're in, you are ... we said. Cum slut. Baby factory. BDSM-rubbersuit slave. Buttsex maiden. Whatever. You're it. And, so am I. We have to be. Duke wakes up in about 2 hours. If Rachel tries to shift him and finds that superglue, we'd better be down the lane by then, is what I'm saying. We're gone, there's no coming back, and it's Kevin's bed or a brothel in Reno."

I thought, 'There's more options...', but didn't get more than a squeak out before Carrie's fierce eyes brought me around.

Something was moving in me. Something started to make this sound both crazy and not-crazy at the same time. I wasn't sure where the rationality went.

Joanie said, "Well, I told you already."

"What. Say it. Say it out loud. To HIM... To.. Sir."

They were weird. I was definitely getting a heaping portion of weird, just standing there.

Joanie looked at me, tilting her face downwards. "Kevin. Control your face. Say nothing but yes or no, or may God Look at You Closely."

As a threat, that phrase was withering. God looking at you closely was unlikely a well-wishing.

I made my lips thin and kicked my feet to swing a little, to keep the mood (from the porch-lady) lighthearted. "Okay. Random happy body language mode, I can do that. I do not feel how I look, Joanie."

"Oh, I know. Kevin. Yes or no. Do you promise to honor and cherish us? To _safeguard_ Carrie and I, in body... spirit... in... our souls? Also? To keep us from harm, from Duke? From our father, Oberon?"