The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 14

Ellen put her arm around me again, giving me a hug but then leaving her arm there. "Phil, relax. That's a good example. And you won't face a situation like that, at least any time soon. If you do, someday, you will have the wisdom needed, if you've asked for it and recognized your need and been faithful in your actual situations, all along. Worry about things that far ahead is useless and even disobedient. 'Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.'" I was ready just to lean my head over on her shoulder and cry.

She added, "Your description would make Wagner out to have been a classic psychopath, and I'd judge you to be right. I remember what he said, before he jumped at Mr. Miles: 'You just don't want me to have any fun!' No conscience whatever. He was entitled to do anything he wanted to anyone, and stopping him was an imposition on his rights. And his father's accusation embodied the same assumption. I've wondered on occasion how much Wagner's group were like-minded boys he attracted, and how much he taught them to be that way."

After a long pause, a minute or more, Aunt Sally said gently, "Your example was ample for explaining what you meant. We all see what concerns you, but Ellen's right. Some forethought is surely called for, but you need to avoid worry about what isn't facing you now and may never face you. Speaking just for myself, I would trust you to make a wise decision in almost any circumstances. I'm sure Mr. Miles isn't infallible, and I'm sure you won't be. I don't have much respect for armchair quarterbacks, who aren't in the tough situations demanding quick decisions and who have no responsibility, but who are always ready with criticism after the fact."

That reminded me of Mr. Miles's apology to Maggie, which she had told me about. He had made a serious mistake, and done what he could to recover what he could and deal with the problem. Not that there was much he could do—but I was pretty sure Maggie had been heartened and encouraged by his offer. And I was pretty sure John had expected that, and intended it.

We went on to focus on what the contract said about our children. The language used might have been drawn from dealing with earlier people with reservations similar to ours about the school, but it was plainly put together with us, specifically, in mind. As far as reasonably possible, we would be the ones responsible for decisions about the rearing and education of our children, and efforts would be made to schedule our other responsibilities so as to allow us to participate in this. Notice was taken that Ellen had kept her work load light to allow her to be with the kids most of the time, and at least in their early years this would continue. Nothing similar was said about me, though—we all noticed that. Ellen was basically homeschooling the kids—though only Avi was at the age where people expect "schooling," and Peter was young enough yet that this wasn't a good description of it. Some of her education in psychology was very helpful—and the personality and character that had led her to specialize in that were too, far more so.

For their younger school years, efforts would be made to challenge them academically more than was normal in the US. This would be done in consultation with us.

When they came to be ready for high school, they would be allowed to enroll in the school where we had been—assuming they met normal requirements. They would live and learn as normal students. Our paths would likely intersect theirs, but they would be living in dormitories, able to be with us three times a year, between terms. We would not be in a position of being their formal instructors in any subject, and in fact would do little if any instruction for their whole class.

When it came time for sex ed, and for the rest of their senior years, they would be required to participate in the same way as all other students. It was recognized that this might be unacceptable to us—to Ellen and me. In that case, or if they were not qualified for admission, we would be responsible for arranging for schooling elsewhere, presumably in the US—for their entire four years of high school. We would be given assistance in this, and possibly even financial help in paying for it, if so.

When we had gone through the whole matter, Aunt Sally said, "Phil, it's obvious that they really want you, and they're doing what they can to adapt to what you feel you need. I don't know whether they do this for everyone, or whether it's for you in particular. I'm sure you're not typical in your determination to direct your children's educations, for example, and I'm sure the points relating to that are for you specifically. What I wonder is whether they work that hard to attract all their potential staffers."

I looked at Ellen and said, "We need to make a list of points to raise. I'm pretty sure the answer is yes, and I'd accept a verbal assurance, but contraception for you needs to be brought up." We had decided to keep trying for more kids, for a while anyway. Ellen's vision had shown her three, apparently the three we now had, but that didn't necessarily mean there would be no more. Even assuming the vision was true, not that I was in any real doubt by then.

Uncle John finished looking back at some points in the document, and he said, "I agree with Sally. They've gone a long way to try to make this something you can accept. I won't advise you to take it or to reject it, but I'd say that if this is something you think you want to do—or think you should do—then it's quite an opportunity."

Aunt Sally added, "The money they offer seemed low to me, but then I realized that housing and food is included, and it seems much better. And your children's educations, too."

Ellen said, "It would even include clothing. Uniformity of that kind is important to them.

"But Phil, am I going to have to stop wearing my rings? That would be really hard on me."

I got my phone out and started my list with that, along with contraception.

We talked about it until dinnertime, and found a few more questions, but really not very many.

In the morning, we left—a little reluctantly—and went back. That afternoon, we discussed things with Dr. Dennis. He didn't need to consult anyone else about our questions. In particular, those concerning Ellen's rings and contraceptives were simply matters of school policy. In general, staff members were allowed to wear engagement and wedding rings, except when they might cause trouble. So, for example, if she were teaching PhysEd, which might well happen, she would have to leave her rings behind—which made very good sense, especially given that she was likely to teach gymnastics. Dr. Dennis also mentioned that rings weren't allowed for kitchen workers—on the job—as an example. Apparently there had been an unfortunate incident or two.

And women trying to become pregnant were normally not required to use contraceptives. He said, "That point especially should have been included automatically. It is part of the language of every woman's contract." It seemed that there were rare exceptions, involving health or safety issues. Those would not be listed in detail, but the language he read us seemed clear enough for us.

He had revised copies of the contracts in front of us in about half an hour, and we signed. He signed for the school. And two days later we were at home and back at our jobs.

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We explained to our employers, not to mention our friends, associates, and acquaintances, when we would be leaving, and something of what we would be doing. I was surprised and moved by the expressions of regret from many of them. Surely in a few cases these were simply conventional and polite, but for the most part they were clearly heartfelt. Even with a few months' lead time, we've had a lot to do.

I received one request that particularly startled and moved me. Pastor Fox, with the deacons, asked me to preach a sermon about a month before our our scheduled departure! By that point, I certainly didn't waste time asking whether they really meant it and were really sure—however unsure I myself was about it.

As I thought about what I should say—and more fundamentally, what I should address—the memory of a song kept tickling at my mind. I had heard it, I was pretty sure, only twice, when I was in middle school, sung by someone in my grandparents' church. I went looking for it—and my memories were too vague and fragmentary to let me find it!

Of course, I couldn't remember anything about the music. I was pretty sure the refrain was drawn from Exodus 19:8 and other places, close to the King James version but not exactly that. It had hit me powerfully at the time, even as an agnostic, but more than fifteen years had gone by. As I tried searching on line, I was buried under other references to those verses, so that if what I was looking for turned up I couldn't find it in that mass of other references.

I asked the music leaders of our church, and none of them could identify it, at least not from my vague description. This was driving me to distraction—distracting me from the preparation I needed to do to have a sermon ready.

Ellen came up with the answer: She called Scott Davidson. And from the very vague description that was all I could provide, he instantly came up with it. He sang the refrain to us over the phone, and I thought probably that was the same song. Then, while we were still discussing it, he found both the words and recordings on line, and told us where to look. I had been right about the source of the refrain:

Amen, amen our hearts cry, His word is true.
All that the Lord has said, we will do.

The stanzas were also similarly drawn from scripture, from verses from Exodus and Isaiah, and went along very well with what I wanted. Scott also emailed me a copy of sheet music, so I could pass it on.

My idea had been to have the choir sing this song before my sermon, but the head worship leader and his wife sang it as a duet instead—just two voices and an acoustic guitar.

In the end, I preached from two texts: the giving of the Law—the old covenant—as described in Exodus 20, and the contrast between that and the new covenant—with a warning against rejecting it—from the end of Hebrews 12. I did my best not to get bogged down in details. The time constraints helped on that, but I ran over a little. I tried hard to bring home something that most of these people, and I myself, lost sight of pretty easily—just how terrifying it was being camped there in front of Sinai, with fire and smoke on the mountain and the voice of God thundering. For us it's so familiar a picture that we're apt to miss this. And a little over a month later, they were making a calf idol!

But the portion from Hebrews notes this, and says that we are truly in the presence of something much more awe-inspiring and terrifying, and then says, "See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven."

And then, for the closing song, they projected the song's lyrics and led the whole congregation in singing it. I hadn't expected that, and could only hope that the words of the song resonated as they did with me.

As I said, I was tremendously moved, being asked to do this. People were very complimentary—and this was another case where I couldn't really tell whether they were just being polite. But of course there were some—the pastor and deacons in particular, but a number of others—whom I could trust to be straight with me. A couple of my aunts and uncles had even come, and I thought they would tell me, too, even if they tried to be gentle. And Ellen especially.

Many of the friends who had come to see me commissioned as deacon had also come to hear me preach. I hadn't known they would, but it was hardly a big surprise. My chances to practice my Italian with Giuseppe and Maria were ending, as Ellen and I tried to prepare for our move, but Maria wrote me a very complimentary letter—in Italian, of course!—beyond their brief comments after the service. Those were in Italian, too.

Dad and Mom came too, and I would have been astonished, maybe to the point of falling apart a little—except that Dad had said what he had earlier, about wishing he'd been there for my commissioning. I still didn't really know what to make of it, but I had realized he might come.

At the end of the service, Pastor Fox called me back up, with Ellen, and he and the deacons laid hands on us and prayed for our service wherever the Lord sent us and in whatever we were called to do. It seemed that everyone else involved had known about this, but no one had told me.

I was given a copy of the video, too, and I sent copies to Uncle John and Aunt Sally, to Pastor Mac, to the Sams, to Kelly and Jon, and to Scott and Martha. These were also people I could rely on to say straight out if I was off base, and I got strong encouragement with only a few criticisms relating to clarity and, well, verbosity.

Copies also went to Jenny and some other friends whose interest, I thought, would be in me, more than in what I had to say.

And even Dad and Mom asked for a copy!

This all was something I had certainly never expected, and I was moved more than I can say.

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So we are facing big changes. In early July, we will be moving, and very busy with orientation programs—probably before we are really settled. We have notified everyone we can think of, and explained to the kids as best we can. That will be an ongoing task, but to my surprise they're more excited than afraid.

We know, tentatively, a few bits of what the future holds, but mostly it is what it always is, something learned one day at a time as it happens. We can only trust and carry out what we're given—one day at a time. Ellen, who was once very bothered by the prospect of not being in control—enough that she hesitated to believe—is much less anxious than I am, and I'm ashamed to have to admit it. She tells me, "Sufficient for the day is its own trouble," and of course she's right, but I'm finding that really hard. Well, we have quite a few people praying for us, too. And of course, none of us ever really knows what tomorrow holds, so in the end there's only one answer: Trust, and obey. Do your best with the duties that confront you right now, where you are, without worrying about those over the horizon. We're doing our best.

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Author's afterword:

Well, it seems that a few people have found this interesting enough to keep on to the end—in some cases prodding me when there have been breaks in the editing and submitting process. (It can't be a huge number of people, given the statistics the site provides.) In closing, I have some reflections, not all closely connected. Read them or not—they are not part of the story.

I found it interesting, and a bit amusing, that one reader commented on an early part, saying that this seemed to be my "private fantasy" and complaining that the school as described was implausible. Of course, any long work of fiction is in a sense someone's private fantasy. But, in the first place, the vast majority of the works I've seen on this site are pretty implausible, designed to titillate the author and his or her readers by producing private fantasies.

And in the second place, the idea for the story—beginning with the high school—was suggested by a story by another author on this site, one whose writings I often admire (and who I hope will get busy and write some more soon). He posted a story about a high school gym class, coeducational, which included nudity of the students (and rules for proper grooming, it appears), and activities one might find in a gym class, and training and practice in sexual activities and positions. I feel sure at least some of you have read this story, despite the huge number of stories on the site as a whole.

My mind being what it is, I wondered what possible background there could be for such a class, and the gym game and the island school were the eventual results of my mulling this over. (Just as my other, long-but-much-shorter story Let's Make a Deal, the story started with my musings on a question to Ask Amy. There, my initial situation stuck much closer to that original question, though.)

At any rate, when I started writing, I had no idea that this story would grow to such a size. Nonetheless, before that point I had planned out most of the major plot points and elements which are present. To name only a few:

• Phil's initial turns with Jenny, Claire, Barbara, and Ellen
• The development of his "harem"
• Wagner's gang, their actions toward Ms. Miller, and the consequences
• The rapes, capture, and trial, including Sam's change of heart
• Sam's partnership with Phil, and the addition of Jenny to that
• Jenny's dumping of Phil and his resulting meltdown—including Ellen's being brought in
• Ellen's vision and the immediate results of that

Even covering only Part 1 and Part 2, that's getting long enough that I'm going to stop.

I don't mean that I had all the details worked out that far in advance! I didn't. And I certainly changed my mind on things along the way! But part of the way you have to write, if you're trying to do character-driven stories (and I am), is that you have to develop the characters to meet the initial plot needs, but then your plot is constrained by the characters. From several readers' comments, I think I've succeeded at least somewhat in that.

I'll close with one final point, and then with quotations from two authors whose writing I mostly enjoy and admire very much (and a little commentary on those).

The point is that I realize some readers really want to know what is going to happen ten years or so further down the road. I have a pretty good idea, but I don't think I'm up to writing it. Too long and detailed, involving too many things I don't know enough about. (All right, I admit that Let's Make a Deal was supposed to end with the first epilogue (Part 18) but then was expanded with two more long parts. But I'm really sure this is the end of this story.)

First quotation is from L. E. Modesitt. You can find this posted around the net. Apparently it's part of an interview which I would dearly love to read in its entirety but which has been removed. This particular form is from Wikipedia:

Modesitt has stated, "When all the research, all the writing group support, all the cheerleading, and all the angst fade away, and they should, the bottom line is simple: As a writer, you first must entertain your readers. To keep them beyond a quick and final read, you have to do more than that, whether it's to educate them, make them feel, anger them by challenging their preconceptions — or all of that and more. But if you don't entertain first, none of what else you do matters, because they won't stay around."

Now, I knew in advance that this story wasn't aimed at the readership of this site as a whole. Obviously, though, I've entertained some but not all that many, even given that restriction. And part of this is because I tried to do too many other things. Modesitt is right, to make your writing worth reading you have to do more than entertain—but I've spread myself too thin, I think.

The other author is Lois McMaster Bujold. This quotation is from the afterword from Cordelia's Honor, which is an omnibus edition of her novels Shards of Honor and Barrayar, but she has written much the same thing in a number of places, and you can find it in many forms paraphrased by others as well.

 . . . thus accidentally discovering my first application of the rule for finding plots for character-centered novels, which is to ask "So what's the worst possible thing I can do to this guy?". And then do it.