"And so Phil Locke gave me this nasty look and told me they didn't have any limited edition Astro Boy figurines, so I told him, 'Don't give me that, man! I'll punch you in the face!'" Pause. Farrah gave Ivory a look of disbelief. "'I'll punch you in the face'?" "Yeah!" She snickered. "What?" "Ivory, if you were going to cause trouble, you could've used a better line at least—like, 'Don't toy with me, toy-seller!', or 'Hey, I think your Baby Drink-n-Wets need changing!'" "Oh! Or how about, 'I'll lock you up, Phil Locke!' Huh?" Farrah snorted and rolled her eyes as she left the cafeteria, but Ivory kept talking. "Oh, wait! I've got a good one! 'Better pick up your toys, mister! Cuz' if you don't, somebody will trip on them and fall down the stairs and hurt themselves! Then you'll feel bad! ...Toy-seller!'" "Idiot," murmured Farrah. ......... Do you wanna be a poet and write Do you wanna be an actor up in lights Do you wanna be a soldier and fight for love Do you wanna travel the world Do you wanna be a diver for pearls Or climb a mountain and touch the clouds above Be anyone you want to be Bring to life your fantasies But I want something in return I want you to burn burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn Burn for me Burn for me Are you gonna be a gambler and deal Are you gonna be a doctor and heal Or go to heaven and touch God's face Are you gonna be a dreamer who sleeps Are you gonna be a sinner who weeps Or an angel Under grace I'll lay down on your bed of coals Offer up my heart and soul But in return I want you to burn Burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn burn for me burn for me Yeah Ooh I want you to burn baby ooh Laugh for me Cry for me Pray for me Lie for me Live for me Die for me I want you to burn Burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn burn for me burn for me Yeah Ah yeah I want you to burn I want you to burn for me baby Ohh yeah ......... Olivia Johnson was walking from Miss Madsen's class to her next, with Zane Klein at her side. She had been assigned to study and report on the taller woman, as she had with nearly half the class since the first week. Olivia could easily say she knew most of the girls pretty well, although she did not like every single one. Zane was a give-or-take, hit-or-miss kind of person, really more man than woman, more porcupine than platypus, more hexagon than quadrangle (she thought with a threatening headache). Klein was French and German, but could speak perfect "Americanese", and rarely slipped into either of her accents unless she wanted to. She was nearly as tall as the school doctor, and was quite heavy and muscular, weighing in at a very masculine eight-score and five pounds, most of that gained from her days as a jock. She was far from a musclehead, though: the woman had a sharp, if not eccentric sense of design, and was skilled enough to construct her own apparel, which included what she wore that day. Olivia could identify with the woman's impatience. Though lost in thought a lot herself, she hated it when people ignored her, were unaware of her presence, were oblivious to her overwhelming self. She had given up trying to be polite two years ago, and had paid for it dearly with much scorn and rumors that would follow her beyond college. Her crankiness could sometimes be attested to insomnia, which Olivia also had on occasion; she was also not a math person, and in fact hated school in general, except for biology and particularly anatomy. Just writing down Zane's vital stats took up several pages; there was a lot about her, not just the muscular surface or the crazed smile. Aintzane asked Olivia out on a date. Olivia was flustered. They had gotten acquainted at that club not long ago, that club where her cousin left with that other girl, plumpish and wild; that club where the new goalie was found being fondled and snogged by Lex Walker; that club where Miss Johnson had tried to have fun, but with her weak leg and all, and Zane's inattentiveness, and such loud music—not her style. She ended up slipping out and going to Shakenstein's. And now Zane was asking her out, one woman to another, rather openly but not with much enthusiasm or interest. She asked only because she was bored and she wanted female company, and surely Olivia had more going for her than a timid dance step. She was restless, that's all; she didn't ask out of a yearlong crush or because she simply thought Olivia was hot (which she was, and she did); it was just a distraction from mundanity. Johnson shrugged and accepted. What could she lose? It wasn't as if she had any hot prospects. But first things first: acquaintanceship had to be attained, or rather, statistics gathered for the report. Aintzane Rikke Klein. Only a year her senior and already taller, stronger, and more popular. Captain of Stanton's Badgers. Redhead (like most of her friends). Athletic, abstract-thinking, generous, quick to learn and slow to think. Multilingual; she was a star in Torvald's class. Insomniac. Chocoholic, to the point of being dangerous and obsessive. Handsome. Liked goldfish, had three as pets. Played banjo. Sailed during the summer, walked during spring and winter, performed in an amateur Bluegrass band in the autumn. Read all kinds of books. Gave her virginity away two years earlier. Had four lovers, all women. Had a long-standing rivalry with Petra Rominostikov, Rodgerson's MVP. Took Literature, History, PE, Sciences, Languages, and Math (spitefully). Made her own clothes. Could become emotional. Thoughtful. "Do you want to go prancing in a leafy glade?" she asked randomly during lunch. Olivia spat out her drink and choked on her laughter, even though it had been more sudden than funny. Zane rubbed her back and cackled. "Ah, I love spit takes." "I've... done better..." managed Liv. She composed herself and asked, "So where do you want to take me on this soiree? Movies and dinner? Bowling? Some other campy place?" Zane nestled her jaw inside the knuckles of her fist, resting her elbow on the table as her oak-wood eyes sparkled with interest. "Ya ever been sailing, Liv? I go out on the sea every summer and take a whole month just cruising, but there's a place where I can rent small yachts and run along a lake or river." "That'd be an awful long drive," she said quietly, "considering how far the nearest body of water is. Sounds like a weekend thing." She saw the look of disappointment on Klein's face, and smiled apologetically as she remedied herself. "Oh, I don't mean disinterest, I'm just saying it doesn't sound like a first-date kind of thing, but the idea is refreshing." "Would you suggest something?" she asked. "My idea of a normal date is to go down to some wide-open space and just play, or else see if my dates can appreciate music. There's a free concert, I think, somewhere off downtown, where that tiny little strip of greenery is." "That does sound like more my style," admitted Liv. She smiled and accepted, and since they were on the subject, she figured she could talk about her own past romance. "My last date, see," she began, "was everything I mentioned: movie, bowling, dinner, not in order. Complete waste of time, and a bore. It was not through those actions that we split up, though; rather, she ended it with me. Said it was too awkward thinking these things about a friend. We've been unreceptive to each other ever since." "Anyone I know?" asked Zane, intrigued. Olivia nodded. "Mm, Victoria Grissom, that smallish girl in our class. She was sweet, and she knew how to cheer me up, but... she was definitely not my type. I think she really has a crush on Janine, which is odd since Janine's straight." "And you're not?" Zane was giving her a charming smile, but it had no penetrating effect. Olivia regarded it with indifference. "I'm rather not sure. Vicki was my first and only. I've kissed girls, mostly my four friends, and once Ayanna, my cousin, but I do find myself inconceivably drawn to men. They have a charm about them, some do, that we women do not." "I think girls got all the charm," said Zane proudly, with a hint of seduction in her voice. Olivia shrugged again and fixed her glasses. "Homosexuals always did confound me. I don't entirely see the sense of being attracted to one's own gender. Men and women are just easier—if for nothing else, reproduction. They protrude, we retract, the pieces fit perfectly, like key and lock." "Bad imagery," muttered Zane, looking away towards the crowd. She yawned once, twice, three times, a magnificent and politely closed gape that impressed Olivia. She looked more horse than human, more satyr than nymph, more plastic than cardboard (the headache returned). Zane saw the placid look on her face and gave her a soft jab. "Hey. You bored?" "I usually am. So little acts as a surprise to me these days. What really surprises me is when people act like people, when humans act more Human. I swear, there have to be some sub-species of Man around that are still stuck in missing-link evolution, too ugly and stupid and stubborn to evolve. Either there are very few Humans and many sub-humans, or else there are very few Above-Humans, the evolved form of Homo sapien, whatever comes next, on a subtler scale. People are just... unbelievable." Sip. Zane crossed her eyes. Finally, somebody who made sense! ............ "Uh-oh." "What?" When Farrah stopped, the girl behind her stopped. She shivered in the presence of Stanton, the school she had been transferred to. "My Lesbian Senses are tingling." "Grow up. Don't act like such a homophobe." "Can't say much else about a school named after a suffrage leader for women's rights." "Elizabeth Cady Stanton wasn't a lesbian. You're just paranoid." "I'm cautious, and unreceptive, not paranoid or homophobic. There's a big difference." The other girl rolled her eyes. "Go stick your head in a lake. Come on, you don't want to be transferred again, do you?" Farrah mumbled, hoisted her pack, and followed the other girl into the school. That had been her first thoughts on the first day of her arrival, and even though it was closing in on mid-September, her thoughts hadn't changed much. Her observations had led her to nearly proving her "fears", or rather her instinct: Stanton was full, or nearly full, of lesbians, dykes, bisexuals, gays, homosexuals, Sapphics, and every other name and label she could believe, with some rare happy exceptions here and there. The only person who she was happy to see who was not an exception was her old pal, Ivory Tran, the only lesbian she knew and loved (it was pure sorority love). She and Ivory had went to the same school before and had been expelled due to different reasons: one for starting a fight, the other for getting involved in the same fight. Farrah had led a moderately innocent life until she stepped in to help her friend win that battle, but as she usually discovered was the case, good deeds never went unpunished. Farrah wasn't homophobic, she was just anti-homosexual. She had a boyfriend the same age as her, Tristan Reaves, and was more than content playing for that particular "side". At best, she was semi-tolerant of the views expressed and believed by the female public of her new school, but definitely spoke up about her own view when she could (especially if somebody flirted with her). She was careful with her words, though, meticulously careful, except in the company of great friends where she could speak her heart without fear of reprisal. Having known and loved Ivory nearly all her life, in spite of spats and spits and differences between romantic pursuits, Farrah often vouched for her, stood up for her, and understood her better than most people. She was Ivory's interpreter, her more careful and considerate side, the diplomat, the rubber. She had no self-esteem of her own, so Ivory filled in for that and more; she was Farrah's cheerleader and encouraged her lifestyle with dear Tristan, showing interest and happiness at each different interval and milestone. She knew better than to think Farrah a potential Sapphic—she would sooner sprout a horse's body and turn into a centaur. During her friend's many flings and swings, Farrah had stood to the sidelines with Tristan, begging him to be patient with Ivory as she cavorted around and slept in nearly every other bed from here to there (though in truth, Miss Tran was more flirtatious than she was salacious). She had stayed by him, all the while trying to persuade her gay friend to at least find one woman and settle with her, at least for more than a year, like she had with Tristan. She would even help her, for crying out loud, if Ivory ever found someone she wanted to be with for so "long". So true to her word, when Miss Tran became hopelessly infatuated with Miss Yi, Miss Kwong helped the two mesh. It was difficult, largely because Ivory had a reputation and it usually preceded her, and even in their new school, few had not heard of Tran's "legendary" status (she was a novice next to Alexandra Blair and Aintzane Klein, though). Ancelin seemed naïve of it, and looked like she would warm up to Ivory, as long as the poor stupid girl didn't go and make an ass of herself, which sometimes she did. Farrah usually just shook her head whenever that happened and wondered how long she could put up with it all. Really, Ivory only had herself to blame. Well, of course, Ancelin did eventually find out about Ivory's lewd past, and distanced herself considerably. "Understandable," Farrah had said as Ivory relayed the news. "There's some good in this, though. You know this Ancelin is a moral person because she doesn't just jump all over you when she hears you're, well, a slut." "A flirt," insisted Ivory. She had admitted to being a slut before, but now it seemed a matter of injury, not pride. Farrah decided to give it to her. "Well, a flirt then. She doesn't like the idea of anybody advancing on her that's been so... around the block. She's probably the type who'd like her first lover, man or woman, to be as inexperienced as her—to grow together and learn, to build from mistakes and so on, a beautiful experience in general. Now there's nothing wrong with a person who knows what they're doing, but you know a little too well. And you're not exactly good at keeping relationships either, even those you like. Something or other causes them to break off. This girl, Ancelin, do you know if she's had somebody break her heart?" "Yeah, her dad," said Ivory seriously. "He physically abused her and her mother for ten years. Eventually they just moved away, filed for divorce and his arrest, and lived with relatives, her mother's brother I think. That part really broke my heart, too: her mom's a really wonderful lady. She liked me almost from the start." (Farrah wanted to make a snarky comment, but thought better and stayed quiet) Ivory resumed after having a thought, "So you think she believes I'll end up breaking her heart, since it's been in my history?" "No doubt. I know I would. If you really want her in your life, Ive, you've got to earn her trust. Once she's cooled down and ready to look past your shadiness, you should go very slow and make her know you're not about to hurt her. Look, I know that's the last thing you wanna do, but she doesn't. So take it easy. No second-date tongue kiss, no third-date groping, and by all means, no fifth-date sex." Ivory cursed mildly, but Farrah was right--her friend moved too hastily and wanted pleasure too quickly. If a relationship was a full course meal, Ivory was a vacuum that sucked it all in; she never once tasted anything. "But what do I do?" asked Ivory, sounding hurt. "She doesn't look like she'll calm down any second. And... I miss her." "Well, that's good. You obviously care about her more than anyone else you've been with. You've told me enough times; believe me, I could make your case for you. Just give it some more time. And try not to be too forward with her until then. I've seen your little declarations of love and how you stalk that poor woman, and I must say, I'm tired of cleaning up your messes. Marbel has yelled at me enough times." Ivory moaned painfully, and hung her head in shame. "I'm really sorry I put you through all that, Fare. You're better than a sister. I promise you, someday I'll make it all up to you." "You don't have to," sighed Kwong wearily, as if she regretted saying it already. "What I do I do because we go back a long way, and I love you, and I'd probably be a boring old stooge without you." Ivory lightened at this, and managed her usual impish smirk. "Farrah," she said cattily, "you're a boring old stooge anyway. But you're the coolest, prettiest, smartest, most wonderful stooge in the world, with the possible exception of Curly. Badoom-chi! Rimshot!" "Oh..." Farrah rolled her eyes and groaned. "You really are a poopy-head, Ive." "Nah, I'm more of an asshole. But at least I admit it. Hey, want my pudding?" She offered Farrah her last cup, and she took her friend's offer gratefully. "Just consider this your payment and we're even," she pointed as she dug in. After a few bites, she changed the subject to something more casual, less dramatic. "So tell me about your day yesterday. You said something about a bad experience?" "Yeah, I went to the toy store yesterday to pick up a limited edition Astro Boy figure I heard was in. I looked all over the place, and of course, I couldn't find any, so I went up to the nearest clerk, a real pimply-faced kid named Phillip Locke, and told him what I was looking for." "Oh boy." Without enthusiasm, Farrah finished her dessert and awaited the rest of the story, knowing it wouldn't turn out well. The End of Chapter 33 "Pudding"
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