"Tetra"
"Attention! Attention! Good day, all. It's great to see every one of you
again. Now, let's get started."
That was Miss Post, all right. Straightforward with her business face
on. Nobody knew if that was what she was really feeling like, since she
was the drama teacher and very good at it. Her class, ten strong with
the possibility of more on the way, gathered round her like chicks to
their mother hen. Elspeth Post had a classroom, but she preferred the
broader, more freeing space of the school's stage and theater.
"I know it's very early in the year," she continued, pacing around her
students like a General before their troops, "but I want to begin work
on this year's play and musical. Last year we had a bit of success; this
year, I'd like to exceed our previous records. I recognize many faces,
so I don't doubt that this year's production will be headed by
experienced people. However, I'd like to do things a bit different this
time around. Please pay attention; what I have to say is very important.
"In the past, we've merely taken royalties and used other plays, such as
'Hello Dolly' and our successful 'West Side Story'--and let us all not
forget the debacle of my first year, though embarrassing it may be." At
this, a few of the older students smiled sheepishly and turned a bit
red. Oh, did they ever remember that!
"But this year, I'm taking a totally different approach!" she exclaimed
loudly with great excitement. "This year, I'm holding a contest: I'm
going to see which of you, or else any friends you may know who are good
at this sort of thing, can create, using original material, the best
productions. We will have entries for musical and drama, so you can send
up to two commissions. The winners--what a team of judges and I believe
to be the best play and musical of them all--will have their own
production shown before our standard live audience."
Elspeth let the girls think over this for a short while. Their own work
being produced as a play? This was indeed a radical departure for
Post--for the entire school, as a matter of fact--and suffice to say, it
overwhelmed the girls and made themselves feel a little bit more
special. They just had to imagine how their own creation would work like
that! Fifteen minutes of fame, indeed!
"Quite an endeavor, isn't it?" asked the teacher merrily. "With that
said, you've got plenty of time to work on it, so that is why I asked
all of you to begin now, at the start of the year. I'll let you
contemplate later; first, let's begin working. I would like three
volunteers to perform a short pantomime sketch together." Naturally,
nobody raised their hands at first, but eventually a team was cast. Ana
Lu, Gabrielle O'Shannon, and Ayanna Montgomery stepped forward and
awaited instruction.
"Well, begin!" said Miss Post, as if expecting something instant. The
girls froze for a moment before clumsily starting their art. Ana had it
in her head to climb a ladder so she could paint a building; Gabrielle
made cereal, and Ayanna shaved her legs. Those not unfortunate enough to
be outgoing stood there and chuckled at their classmates' poor attempts.
"Well," sighed Miss Post after their tasks were complete, "it wasn't
exactly in synch, and you've all got a lot of work to do, but I suppose
that's why I'm here. As the rest of you may deduce, we will be studying
pantomime this week. For your assignments, all of you, I would like an
individual sketch by the end of this week. Do try and not make them
ordinary." The girls consented, and followed their teacher back into her
normal room so they could sit down and resume the day. Drama class was
by no means "play time"; Elspeth took her work seriously and expected
her students to do no less.
Blake Baum, who had taken her meds during lunch that day ("Once or twice
a day; three if I'm feeling all over the place," she had said), could
concentrate well and quietly on her work, though pantomime would be a
pain for her since she could barely focus on the real world, let alone
the imaginary. Her heart was in her game, which would not officially
begin until the next month. She was excellent in track--she had been
ever since grade school--so unless something terrible happened, she was
a shoe-in for the school's soccer team. Besides, Leena could not
overlook those five goals she had made last year.
Blake then blushed as she realized she had been sketching instead of
working. She had not heard a word that Miss Post had said. She
discreetly removed her pencil and sat up, trying to keep her eyes on the
redheaded teacher with the quaint British accent. Post was engaging, but
certainly not engrossing; Blake accidentally discovered herself
wandering over to the odd posters scattered around the room. She could
just imagine it now.
"Mom, dad, I flunked drama because I was looking at a picture of a cat."
She rubbed her eyes and tried again.
One week later, Elspeth Post showed her support for her team and her
students by attending the first practice game--Stanton Blue v. Stanton
Red. Blake Baum was there, showing unusual focus. If only she could
concentrate during class.
Luckily, Miss Baum was freed in less than an hour. Her juices came back
to her as she went the short distance from the theater to the gymnasium,
where Leena would begin auditioning for positions in Stanton's soccer
team (since even the teachers had trouble pronouncing her last
name—Katajisto—the teacher just insisted everyone address her
informally). The Stanton Badgers were hoping to continue their good
streak again, so quite a bit rested on Baum's shoulders.
"Well, hello ladies!" addressed Leena five minutes after class began.
Leena was a strong, beautiful short-haired blonde from Finland who was
very well-liked amongst students. She was very lenient and enjoyable,
and was usually more fair and honorable than people gave her credit for.
She started class late on purpose (because she knew how long girls took
to change into their gym clothes) and greeted everyone with a smile.
Then came the day's warm-up exercises, and then Leena addressed eleven
breathless girls.
"The day has finally come that I know many of you have been waiting
for," she began, her accent barely detectable. "The try-outs for this
year's soccer team will be held later this day, and by this time next
week, I should have assembled a fine team. We will then begin practice
immediately, so even if you don't qualify, please come out to the field
and support your team. Last year we took state championship; this year,
I would like to keep it ours. Rodgerson's School for Girls has been
improving since we faced them two years ago, so I would like for
everyone to step up their game as well."
The freshmen (freshwomen?) were later told that Rodgerson's was
unofficially Stanton's greatest and strongest rival school in terms of
sports (Laudendale's was their rival in terms of academics), therefore
legitimizing Leena's emphasis. Many people expected the current year's
state championship game to be a classical match-up between the two rival
schools, so anticipation and excitement were already on a high.
Leena figured that since soccer try-outs were going to be held after
school, she might as well have the girls play a friendly game to see if
any of the newer ones were interested. A few of the older ones crowded
around the stars of previous years and asked them to be on their team;
Blake was pestered by both Janine and Gabrielle.
"C'mon, Blakie!" pleaded the redhead. "We've been friends since third
grade! You owe me a few favors anyway, don't'cha?"
"Uh..."
"Gab, you've had her on your team every single time we play!" countered
the black-haired. "I think I'm entitled to her this year."
"Uh, don't fight over me," muttered poor Blake. They both laughed, and
to keep things fair (or interesting), Leena put both O'Shannon and
Bautista on the same team, and Blake on the other. Since there were
eleven students--twelve if Leena included herself--Kathlyn Parkin
decided to leave herself out.
"I'm telling you, my doctor states that I'm unfit for sports!" she
exclaimed to her teacher. "She even gave me this to give to you. Look."
Katt brandished her doctor's note excusing her from physical education
due to her asthma, but Leena was unmoved.
"I'll tell you what," she suggested. "I'll put you on Zane's team, and
I'll be there too. We'll both keep watch over you. You can be our
goalkeeper if you want. Are you good at catching the ball?"
"Yes," answered Katt, quietly but honestly. Whenever she could, she and
her brother would go out in the backyard and play catch. She became very
good with her hands and eyes, although it was hard on her lungs to move
around. Leena smiled.
"Then I think we've found a goalie. Go on, now; I'll ask Zane to look
out for you." Kathlyn smiled warmly and walked over to the imaginary net
(it was more like a line taped on years ago, positioned before a mat on
the wall), and Leena split up the crew. She would be on the Red team
with Blake, Ayanna, Katt, Hero, and Hail; Zane took control over the
Blue team, with Ivory, Ancelin, Gabrielle, Janine, and Ana. Both teams
were more or less equal (each one had at least two girls good at sports
and two who frankly stunk), and both played well, with Leena wisely
ending the game near the end of class when the score tied up.
"So," breathed Zane Klein heavily, "who won?"
"Whoever had the most fun," answered Leena wisely with a smile. The
girls rolled their eyes and wished Zane had not asked.
Leena and a few of her students went outside for the auditions. It was a
pretty day, still warm from summer's hug, and the sky couldn't have been
clearer. It was by all means perfect, and Leena was glad of her fortune.
Soon, everyone that had read the notices and heard the announcements
came flocking to the improvised table, where Leena sat alone before a
clipboard. She greeted everyone cordially, adding to the day's joy.
"Good afternoon. Thank you all for staying after class. I can tell our
year's going to be great from the looks of the turnout. Of course, not
all of you will play. None of you have a guarantee, not even those who
have been on the team before, but don't be discouraged. Please sign in,
then we will begin."
An hour passed before Leena got a good idea of who would go and who
would stay. Another day would go by before she had a loose idea of her
team's makeup. It would take all year, however, to create the new breed
of Stanton's Badger elite. Their first practice game--one half of the
remaining girls versus the other half--took place a week later, as
promised. It was but a preview of things to come, and although there
weren't many people watching the free event, there were enough to get a
good idea of things to come, and also enough to support the team.
Blake's happiest moment was making the team. Her fellow Badgers were a
good bunch, although one among them had to be convinced by Leena to sign
on. After all, she was a terrific goalie, but not very good at running.
"Usha," asked Ruth, "why're you beginning your campaign now? It's only
the first of the year; you've got a few months to go before you get
elected."
"I'm not guaranteed a position," she stated firmly.
"You usually are," shrugged Bonnie. "Freshman year you had competition,
sure, but you proved yourself so well that sophomore year was a
no-brainer. What makes you think this year will be any different?"
"There could always be something that happens between now and then," she
reasoned. "I would just like to anticipate things. And in answer to your
question," she said to Ruth, "I'm starting early because it's merely the
professional thing to do. Yes, the first week of school I didn't account
for, but only because I know that my fellow women are more interested in
getting organized rather than who they will elect as president of their
school. This is a prime week for me and I won't waste a minute."
"Well, just be sure you don't end up like those other candidates,"
sneered Nell. "It's barely August and I'm already sick of those ads.
Bush and Kerry, Bush and Kerry! It's enough to make you sick." Most of
the girls agreed. Usha Krishnan, their unofficial leader, rubbed the
bridge of her nose in thought.
"Do you really think being inundated with campaigns so early in the year
would cause them to become more indignant and apathetic?"
"YES!!"
"I see. I should've taken that into consideration. Still; best to get
the word out somewhere."
"I think your first and second years speak for themselves!" stated
Linda. "Everyone knows you do a good job--hell, you do the best in my
opinion--so this year you can just float on reputation! And if any
competitor comes along, what kinda dirt do you think they could dig up?"
"Well," answered Usha, quietly and clearly, "I am a member of the GSA
and the UDCB. Some person could use that as propaganda." Beth shrugged.
"So somebody thinks you're gay and Democratic, so what? There are more
than enough girls here like that, and just as much in the opposite who
would support you."
"Perhaps I did make a mistake after all, if my actions have caused such
a rift already," mused Usha quietly. She walked away, but her troupe
followed her.
Usha Krishnan, soon to be a year older in two and a half months, was one
of the brains among Stanton's so-called elite. Usha had enough merits to
her name to guarantee a good future: member of the debate team, an honor
roll student, a U.N. scholarship, president of the GSA (Gay and Straight
Alliance, a mere gathering of souls until she organized it), founder of
the UDCB (best for her not to mention that, it was); even her parents
were important people. She had very lofty goals; acting as president
over the junior class of Stanton high was just another step towards
them.
Usha was part Hindi, part Irish, though her father's side of the family
showed the most clearly. She spoke with a fine, precise voice that had
no distinct accent, but only after considering what to say (hence,
sometimes, not being able to make sense due to her lapse). Usha was a
mover, a shaker, somebody who not only dreamed but acted upon their
dreams; she not only thought outside the box, she distanced herself from
it as often as possible. The young woman was beautiful and brilliant,
though her tongue could be sharp and judgmental. Her crew, mainly
members of one club or another, stayed with her as a clichéd flock of
birds.
"I must remind you, Bethany, that my preference of gender accompaniment
has little to do with my politics," she stated as she and her group
walked down the halls of the school. "Whether towards men or women I
lean, it should not matter--after all, the name of the club suggests
that all types are welcome and included, not one or the other. I'd be
happy if somebody noted that I was among their ranks; did I not help
them, in some way?"
"That you did--"
"But your other, erm, merit would..."
"It is not a slander to have an opinion about somebody in this country,
last I checked!" snapped Usha defensively. Even then, though, she had
given her words a second of thought, though they came from emotion.
"Especially," she continued, "someone whom my words, actions, and
feelings are justly aimed towards! This country shall soon have the
opportunity to trade in its yoke for a more refined collar; I don't
doubt the intelligence of Americans! Surely to goodness they'd have
brain enough to know when to admit their wrongs and take the other side!
It would be..."
Usha took a breath and realized, after looking at her friends' faces,
she had been preaching a little. She stopped.
"I have said enough," she concluded firmly, and held her books very
close to her chest since she did not believe in carrying them on her
back. Sheets of paper were neatly ringed in binders; pencils and pens
were hooked and sheathed with great care, and were it not for her grace
and grandiose, Usha would've looked silly carrying everything. But she
never really looked lovelier, unless one counted her sophomore year
prom.
"So, uh..."
"I will run regardless of what my adversary says," she stated, ignoring
her friend's attempt to change the subject. "I cannot be ashamed of
myself and the methods in which I invest my time. Mine will not be a
campaign of mud but one of gold, so I expect whoever runs against me
shall treat it the same. If not, then I know I will emerge the winner,
though I will not (of course) do so without defense."
"Proud, and yet humble, as always," remarked Bridgett. Usha smiled.
"I'm not that complex!" Krishnan stopped and stood before the door of
her next class, and somehow managed to clasp her hands together in spite
of her load. "I shall see you all after class. Namaste."
"Namaste," chimed her friends. It was their way of respecting her Hindu
culture, and it was Usha's way of discovering it, little by little.
Ms. Torvald's class on World Languages was never dull, but Usha still
yearned to see the practice soccer game later that afternoon. Something
inside her just loved watching athletic girls...
Her friends never understood Krishnan's delight of the game, despite its
worldwide appeal. Usha didn't exactly like soccer as a whole, mostly
because she could never play it, but watching it just to watch it (like
smoking a cigar just for the cigar, as Freud might remark) was fun. It
almost felt like a guilty pleasure, although she was sure that plenty of
"important" people had enjoyed games in their past. Some had even been
stars of the field. Usha went to the soccer field alone that day after
school, and sat by herself as well, because so few people came out to
see who their new team would be made up of.
"I'm not really a fanatic," she had explained to her friends the
previous year, "I just enjoy it in all forms. Get me in front of a game,
live or televised, whether the team consists of men or women, and I
guarantee you that I will like it." Lately, though, she had found
herself... attracted to? Was that the right term to use? Was it even
remotely proper? Perhaps in a sense, yes. Then it was: it was proper, so
in a sense the game itself attracted her a little closer when women
played the field. Perhaps it was just the female empowerment creed of
hers. Yes, that was it.
Leena Kata-whats-her-name played the role of head soccer coach again
that year, and for that Usha was thankful. She knew Leena a little and
spoke with her personally, usually after games. She was competent and
fair, and quite enjoyable to be around even in rough times. Despite her
faint masculinity and foreign appeal, she was really a sweet, cute woman
who could never speak enough. Usha liked and trusted her, at least in
terms of being the team's coach.
Leena usually selected somewhere between twenty and twenty-two girls for
her team, though one time she had as little as seventeen on her roster
(and none of them did too well that year). This year it was twenty,
mostly members from previous years who had shown themselves worthy of
another run on the field (the so-called "all-stars"). Usha recognized
many of them from her last two years as a faithful fan, particularly one
she was dying to befriend.
It came as no surprise to her that Aintzane "Zane" Klein was on the
team, since the eccentric amateur designer had performed very well the
previous year. Having no single outstanding trait, except for a tough
defense, Zane was used mostly to fill in for holes since she adapted to
any position well (except goalie). Also on the team was Alex Walker, a
ferocious warrior on the field but terrible when her team's score was
low. The letter "X" was stitched on the back of her jersey, approved
even by Headmistress Marbel.
Ivory Tran was used to using her hands in sports (and other, more
illicit endeavors), as she was good in volleyball and karate, but having
a hard head and strong legs put her into the team, right next to Blake
Baum, who was the team's best runner and one of their best kickers. She,
more than anyone on the team, was the one Usha wanted to meet.
One of Blake's kicks didn't make it past the team's goalie. Leena
cheered. Usha raised her brow in amazement. Blake was good, so whoever
had blocked that kick must've been equally good. Too bad Krishnan had
never heard of her before. What was the name on her jersey? Perkin?
Parkin? It was too far away to read, and Zane was, as usual, stealing
the spotlight.
Abigail "Abi" Cerio had watched the game, but nobody knew it since she
hid herself and slipped away once the match was over. She'd have more
time to officially display her bomb-shelling face, to crown the
bleachers with her eye-bulging bottom, to stand and cheer with her
sultry, sensual, delightful voice. But when that time came, would the
audience focus on her or the show? The men were predictable, but it was
the women (in more than a single fashion) that intrigued her.
She drove to the park so she could exercise and take advantage of the
warm days before it was too late. Also, she had heard rumors that her
newest object of infatuation haunted there. Two birds, one stone.
Abi loved youth, her body, and the youthful bodies of others, and
t'would be a sin to waste the temple that was her own! By daily exercise
and care, as she kept her physical house did she also keep her bodily
one--perhaps the only true religious ideal she believed in. The body was
a temple, made for good keeping. Ruin the body and no person would want
it. Ruin a house and nobody wants to visit. And her body and house were
as good as the other; Abi brought many eyes to her cared-for temple. And
God bless this new career, working as a math teacher in an all-girls
school! Her religious effort seemed to be paying off.
And there were so many women to choose from! Abi sought out one that
day, though: one she knew would be in the park. According to her private
research and compact intel-gathering "squad", she came by this place
about every day after school to further some physical improvements upon
herself, sometimes with others. She had once haunted a soup kitchen, but
that had been weeks ago; now, it was only this lovely place. Abi wanted
to find that girl now, because soon it would be unreasonable to be going
outside on any day.
She jogged and turned several heads. Too bad she wasn't straight. Oh
well. Tough break for the men.
Ah, she was over there, and luck seemed to be with Abi as her object of
desire was alone, or soon to be alone. The last of her friends had
left--time for the lioness to prowl. Abi casually ran over to the young
woman, smiled, and called out.
"Ivory! Nice to see you here! You enjoying the day too, while it's still
here?"
"I don't like small talk, Abi," replied Ivory Tran cattily, swinging a
stick onto her shoulder in a fashion that looked just too cool to Abi's
eyes. "But," she continued, "I like you and so I'll say yes." Abi jogged
all the way up to her student's side, fanned herself with her light
jacket, and took some deep breaths. Thank goodness she didn't bother
wearing perfume for her "hunt". Some things just did not mix well with
sweat.
"Nice day," breathed Cerio quietly. She noticed the foul expression on
Ivory's face and laughed. "You're right, I hate small talk too. It's
demeaning, and sometimes futile. Besides, getting-to-know-you bullshit
is just so boring and impersonal. It's the mark of a truly unevolved
person. Am I saying too much already?"
"Not really," answered Ivory coolly, giving her head a tilt. "I like
your voice, and even though your math class is too hard for me, it's not
like I can't pay attention. I kinda like you, in spite of..."
"Oh, gee," moaned Cerio, turning her charm on full blast with a cute,
sultry pout, "I thought you were one of my smartest women. I'd like to
help, but I don't want to insult you by making things easier. It's rare,
I think, for women to truly love doing something like this, but what can
I say? I just love math, numbers, and other things. Other... pursuits."
"Like jogging in good weather?" Ivory's thin black eyebrows curled. Abi
felt a rush coming on. Rarely could women seduce her this well, so this
one must've had experience. She had heard rumors of how flirty Ivory
could be, but this time she seemed to be playing hard to get. Abi
honestly didn't know which excited her more.
"Why, yes. What do you like?"
"Hmm... sports. Another thing women don't usually love. I like kendo,
volleyball, martial arts... I don't swim too well but I like watching
it."
"Oh?" By now, both women were just close enough to smell each other's
sweat. It fell like a pheromone upon their face, strangely sweet and
bitter. The mental dance they were making spoke oodles of luscious words
when silence broke what was said; their eyes wandered shamelessly to
each other's lips, feeling warm just by watching them quiver.
"So what else do ya like?" wondered Tran, standing just a little taller
to try and rival Abi's height. Cerio wished she would go lower and... Or
maybe Ivory was just staring at...?
"Well," she answered calmly, taking a closer step, "I like to party, go
out and meet people, get involved in lots of fun, sexy adventures..."
"Oh!"
"I also like to model, but not for any big-time company. I model for
myself and maybe somebody special."
"Really. You look like you could be a pro without any effort."
"Let's not talk about that," she whispered lowly, turning her charm on
even higher. Ivory grinned and fought back with her own wave.
"Then what?" Abi merely smiled, as if the exchange were a game. Ivory
lunged forth daringly, "So is there somebody special now? Do you have an
outrageous sex life, or are you happily engaged in monogamy?" Abi Cerio
smiled seductively and leaned down, her long curly-black hair dancing
faintly against Ivory's body.
"I don't think that's an appropriate question for a student to ask her
teacher." Ivory smiled, and let her eyes twinkle as she let loose her
ultimate wild card.
"Miss Cerio, do you want to fuck me?" Abi chuckled, but not impolitely,
and stood to her full, sensual height while crossing her arms. The words
did not shock but intrigue; Abi liked it sometimes when her lovers
talked dirty.
"Miss Tran, I do not 'fuck'. I'm not a fucker by nature, I'm a lover. If
I did want to get you into my bed, it would be an experience and not an
event. I would blow your mind and I would be good at it; I would make
you scream and scream with pleasures your saucy mind hasn't grasped yet,
until you fainted from exhaustion, leaving only your thudding pulse and
breathless lungs to guarantee a second go."
Ivory Tran, never one to feel intimidated, least of all by such talk,
brushed her hair out of the way so it wouldn't obscure her teacher's
view. Abi had unfortunately met her match. It didn't matter that the
meeting of two such experienced women was as inevitable as night and
day, nor that it was only a matter of time until one seduced the other;
she was evenly-matched in every way and didn't know quite how to handle
it. The lioness, it seemed, had met another lioness. And all Ivory had
to do was expose herself with a swish of her bleached-blonde hair.
"Sounds fun," she said calmly. "But you didn't answer my question, sexy
Abi."
"The answer is no," whispered the elder. "As I said, I don't fuck. I'm a
lover, young woman, so it's best if you rephrase the question." Without
missing a beat, Ivory did so--in a perfectly clear, quiet, seductive
tone.
"You want my naked body wrapped helplessly within the confines of your
nude soft silky skin, the musk of our lovemaking mixed in the air with
sweat and desire, soft silences and breathings giving us both the most
unbelievable sensations, until only sleep is left to rock us away; then
again our lovemaking stirs us in the morn, and a slippery shower
afterwards, where I take you and teach you and dominate you recklessly.
Well, is that what you want, little girl?"
Oh, being called that drove her wild!!
So what else could she say but "Yes"? Besides, she had never been
seduced or dominated by a younger woman, and far be it from her to not
try new things.
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