The Missing MacGuffin (1) - The First Chapters

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At the end of a late summer's day, Jordan just wanted something, anything to happen, but one thing was as tedious as the next until a discovery was made that changed everything and opened ...

The Case of
The Missing MacGuffin
A Jordan Hailey Story
By Jan S

Copyright  © 2009 by Jan S


While this story isn't totally finished as yet, it will be if I have anything to say about it, though the going maybe a bit slow for this kind of tale. Still I hope you enjoy the parts as well as the future whole.

This only got written thanks to the help and encouragement of my beta readers, Daphne and Kristina. Big hugs to them both.

The First Chapters
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1: Set Up

It was late on a sultry August afternoon. The sunlight squeezed through the slotted blinds and cast bright streaks across the drab walls and rug. The blades of the fan threw slow moving shadows that glided through the bright stripes, and that was the only motion; the rest of the world had come to a dead stop.

I leaned back in my chair, poured the last of a Red Bull down my throat, and waited.

A half finished report on summer reading, due Wednesday, was the all that was on my desktop. It didn't need to be done yet, and I needed something for tonight. I needed something to bring my dull life to an end.

The casement window swung open, and Blair was out on a limb once again.

That was our private entrance. Blair Lu had been my partner since middle school, when we discovered we lived on just opposite sides of an abandoned railroad track. We didn't always like each other any more but had been welded together ever since and couldn't do anything about it. Long ago we had nailed rungs to the oak outside my window to make the climb easier.

"How about knocking first sometimes?" I said.

Blair climbed through the window and said, "What for? What were you doing, Jordan?"

I didn't answer. I was about to hear the plan. Blair always had a plan -- seldom a good plan -- but always a plan.

"Get dressed. We're going to the dance," Blair said and stretched out across my bed.

Argument was useless. I hadn't had any intention of going to the dance -- hell, I had had every intention of avoiding it like a cliché -- but those words sealed my fate, and I knew it.

"You sure I was invited?"

"Hey, Jord, it's a high school thing. You're in the honor society and heir apparent to the yearbook editor, but they have to let you in anyway. It's the last waltz, dude! Remember -- school on Wednesday."

I made the expected groan then said, "I'm not wearing stuff like that."

Blair had on a pair of dark blue, pleated slacks, a dress shirt with red pin stripes, a blue and pink tie (the windsor pulled down two buttons) and, in spite of having just climbed a tree, a white cotton sports coat.

"No one has my sense of style. Semi-grunge'll pass,"

I grabbed some gray cargo pants from the pile in the corner and pulled them over the boxers which were all I had on. I said, "You know, if you didn't dress like that half the school wouldn't think you're gay."

Blair shrugged. "And yet your being seen with me is what keeps almost half the school from thinking you are. Strange, huh?"

I put on an almost clean black polo. "Is Tracy going to be there?" I asked.

"Yeah. You mind keeping Andy amused?"

I faked a laugh and said, "Not the way he wants, but I'll be my usual witty self."

As I was shoving my hair under the baseball cap I almost always wore, Blair said, "Can you get us a ride?"

I shook my head. Neither of my usual drivers was available.

We left by the door instead of the window because I had to lock the window and turn on the alarm when the house was empty, and e grabbed some sandwiches from the kitchen on the way out. Blair took the bike my sister left behind when she went to college, and we rode the two and a half miles to the pavilion in Arden Park where the dance was being held.

I wasn't looking forward to this much; dances, the whole social scene, are usually just tedious to me. But I'd been away for most of the summer; my online games had all updated and now my avatars needed rebuilds before I could use them; at least this was something to do.

I was surprised that Blair had become interested in this kind of thing too but, while I was away, Tracy had become Blair's newest Best Friend Forever, and that had to be the reason. She, Blair and Andy were a troika now -- like the three musketeers, and I was a sometimes D'Artanian. I had known both of them for years, or at least of them. Andy was The Quarterback and well known to the whole town; Tracy had almost as much fame as he did, but they hadn't really been among my friends before Blair got to know them. Andy didn't really bother me much. He pretended to have a crush on me, and that could become a pain, but I could deal with it. Tracy was more annoying, especially when she and Blair started with their Public Displays of Affection.

Gay wasn't a scarlet letter at our school. Though we did have more than enough total assholes to go around, many people were tolerant and willing to let others be. Andy and Tracy were both out to everyone that wouldn't care; they used each other to hide their taste from those that it would matter to. Somehow it worked; I don't know how.

Blair I didn't know about at all, especially now and the thing with Tracy.

I mean, in spite of the clothes and everything, she was a girl. At least that is what she had always told me. Since we were kids, she had always preferred her brother's hand-me-downs. She didn't have to wear them, her mother was a successful violist and could have bought new, and she tried to hide her gender in some ways too, but she always wore long earrings or nail polish or makeup, along with the slacks and dress shirts.

She wouldn't tell even me if she was gay or not, not even when I asked her straight out, and she knew it wouldn't make any difference to me. I don't think she had ever gone as far as heavy petting with anyone on either side though. I would have known of it; I felt pretty sure of that somehow. But she did like to play with girls like Tracy. A lot. And I was only along tonight to disguise their relationship.

Just as dusk began, we stashed the bikes in some bushes near the golf course, so we could make a more dignified entrance, and trotted towards the building. A lot of outcasts and sophomores milled about the patio; boys on one side, girls to the other, the few with dates stood in the middle and maintained physical contact with their companions to proclaim their status.

Tracy skipped over to us and put her arms around Blair's neck. Blair grabbed my hand then kissed Tracy 's cheek.

"Hello, little bubble butt," Tracy said to me and bit the edge of her thumb with her lips.

I glared at her -- a response I felt was sufficient for that lame remark -- but Blair rode up on her white stallion and told Tracy to leave me alone.

Maybe Tracy was still unsure of Blair's tastes too, because she obviously saw me as a rival and flaunted her perceived advantage in a contest I hadn't entered.

She was almost seventeen going on twelve and, in spite of her open displays with girls, she really thought she fooled people by holding a boy's hand occasionally. I guess she did fool those who think all lesbians have giant shoulders. She constantly flirts with boys too and is very good at it. Blair thought that was only a mean game; I thought she was practicing for a career as a bedroom actress.

We made our way inside and to the back of the hall where the other juniors were. Andy came over and said, "Hi, Hailey. So, are you trying to steal my date?" Then he put a possessive arm on Tracy's shoulder.

Then Andy started singing "Louie Louie, oh no; Me gotta go."

That wasn't the best way to annoy Blair --to really get to her, use any stereotype about Asians -- making fun of her name is only second best.

The four of us danced one dance, during which it was unclear who was dancing with whom, and then Tracy announced that she had to "pee" and pulled Blair away.

I was left sitting on a stone wall, my feet dangling above the ground, with Andy. He sat down next to me and put his arm behind my back, his palm on the wall, his wrist tight against the center of my ass.

Maybe he really didn't know that straight boys would not sit like that. Maybe he didn't care. There are a lot of people that don't believe a "faggot" can be six feet tall and throw a football forty yards. His coaches and teammates were among those people, I guess, and they were the ones he wished to fool.

"So, Hailey," he said, "you getting any satisfaction from Blair?"

"As much as you get from Tracy ," I said.

"Want to go to my car? I got some Jack Black there."

I said, "If we take a walk alone, Andy, rumors will start."

"Nothing serious. No one is going to believe that about me."

"But they will about me. And your image will take a hit if we hang together too much. I'm not a super jock; hadn't you noticed? "

His grin said he had, and that he liked what he noticed, but he said, "You have more pins on your letter jacket than I do, Hailey."

Running track and cross country, and wrestling as a flyweight didn't move me into that group, and we both knew it.

I said, "Logic's not their best thing," and laughed. "Andy, it's amazing that you can be so fucking assertive, and still be in the closet."

"Do you think I'm in the closet?" he asked and shrugged. "My sister says I am too, but with the door wide open and holding a bright neon sign that says, 'gay'. If they don't want to look, I don't make them, not yet, and Tracy helps them to not have to look too. Someday I'll bash the sign across their heads, -- I will -- but not until I've got my football scholarship. So, what about the drink, Hailey?"

The first, only, and last time I had had a drink was last February, on Blair's sixteenth birthday. She had found a pint of Southern Comfort which we mixed with lemonade. I had managed to clean up my puke before my parents smelled it and planned to never do that again.

"No thanks," I said and asked, "How come you call every one by their last name, but no one calls you Chekhov?"

Andy put his hand on my back and rubbed. "It's a jock thing, and my name is too ethnic; plus it sounds too close to jackoff. I'm six-one and punched someone for slipping up once. It's image, Hailey, and respect. Call teachers by their first name, and they kill you. Call 'em by there last name without something in front of it and you are in real deep shit. But I'm like the super-stars that only need one name."

"It's dis-ing me?"

"Not so much. I'll call you Jordan, but not in front of the team. Like you said: image. And I need those jerks to want to die for me if I'm going to make all-state. And if they hear me use any boy's first name, they will think I'm gay or something."

Good quarterbacks aren't completely stupid.

Good receivers and running backs are a different matter. Numbers 87 and 43 walked up. The one that plays end said, "Scram, Hailey."

In middle school my dojo put on an exhibition each field day. The canned throws bought me lots of room. Then, in my freshman year, a junior over twice my size tried to grab my shoulder with all his weight on one foot. The bruised cheek he got when he hit the floor gave me a rep for minor superpowers.

The assholes wouldn't push things, but most didn't let anyone think they liked me either. I didn't mind.

I got off the wall and went to the snack bar. Tracy was sitting in Blair's lap while she sucked a soft drink through a straw. I told them about Andy's bottle, and Tracy was ready to go to the woods. Both of them knew he wouldn't open it without me there so I went along.

While we were getting the bottle from the trunk, Andy pulled out an Uzi with a two liter bottle attached to it. He turned around and said, "squirrel hunt!" then opened fire, drenching my shirt with the battery powered squirt gun. A group of boys near another car laughed louder than necessary. Tracy laughed loudly too but called Andy an asshole; Blair kneed him in the balls and tried to break the gun. I took the shirt off, threw it at him, and said, "Wash it."

Andy recovered enough to open the bottle and take a large swallow. He was still laughing; he thought the joke well worth the pain. Since he was staring at my torso, I realized why and took Blair's jacket from her.

We took the bottle into the park and sat beside the oversized pond known as Saturn's Lake. Tracy was taking very small sips, and in two seconds began acting soused. Blair knew we would be riding bikes home, so she held her tongue over the bottle lip when she threw her head back.

I did the same.

Blair and I weren't really out here to get drunk. It was just about getting away from the crowd and to do something that might lead to something exciting; just for the lulz. Only Andy made a noticeable difference in the liquid's level as, on each turn, he took a deep gulp and fought off the need to gag. I knew that this was supposed to be a display of macho-ness that was meant to impress me, but it didn't.

We sat on the grass, and Tracy leaned her head on Blair's chest and began to lick her shirt pocket. I wondered if Blair enjoyed that through the ace bandage I knew she was wearing. Tracy was one of the few girls wearing a skirt at the dance, a knee length prairie skirt with a slightly longer ruffle bottomed slip under it. As she sat next to and on Blair, she didn't give a thought to what she showed us. Andy didn't notice, and I didn't stare.

After his second turn, Andy put his legs out, and I let him stroke the knees of my dirty pants with his dirty shoes. "If you get busted or die in a wreck, Andy," I said, "the whole town will kill you."

"Or they will just repeal the drinking age for football players," Tracy said. Football was a very big deal in this town, and Andy, even I admitted, was very, very good at it.

Andy said, "No worry. My sister is here somewhere. She's driving or will find a boy to drive us if she's drunk too. And there is always a second string lineman around somewhere."

He used the need to talk to move slightly closer to me. When his shoe began to caress my crotch, I grabbed it. Blair laughed at me. Tracy giggled and said, "You are just a tease, Jordie. Why are you so mean to our sweet town hero?"

That was when we saw lights moving across the golf course.

"Someone's got alcohol poisoning," Blair said. "Probably one of your linemen, Andy."

"Nah," he said, "they're all too big. They never die before midnight." He took another hit from the bottle and lay back in the grass to show his lack of concern.

The flashlights stopped near where Blair and I had hidden the bikes. We got up to go investigate but stopped when we heard sirens. The music in the pavilion cut out in the middle of a song and all the lights inside came on. Five police cars pulled into the parking lot. Every student knew this suburb had only seven.

Andy was non-reactive; the rest of us started to walk towards the building but, from over a hundred yards away, we could tell that all of the boys there were being lined up by the police.

Blair said, "Jordan, you better wait. Trace, stay with Jord. You've had too much to drink."

But Tracy's drunkenness had vanished, and she said, "No. Wait. The people at the shop will know what's happening."

Her father and uncle owned the largest garage in town and had tow trucks. Someone there would be listening to the police band, and this, whatever this was, would have been broadcast.

She dug her cell phone from her purse. After a three minutes conversation, she turned to us, her face ashen, and said, "The MacGuffin is missing."

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2: Establish

"Who the fuck would want to steal the damn MacGuffin," I said.

Tracy said, "Whatever. They did, and all the boys here are being questioned, and they are checking their shoes because they found foot prints by the golf course."

Blair said, "Oh, shit. Let me think."

I felt like I'd been slugged in the stomach. I always did when she said that.

"Jordan, take your clothes off," Blair said after thinking for what was obviously much too short a time.

"What the hell!" I replied.

"Jordan, it's our footprints they found by the fence. Tracy, take off your slip."

Blair was rummaging through the backpack she took everywhere. She emerged with a handful of highlighter pens. Don't get the wrong idea; it isn't because she's Asian that she carried school supplies around in August, it's because she never cleaned out that pack. She's only half Asian anyway.

Then she grabbed my hand and began using a red marker on my fingernails. Tracy grabbed a neon pink pen, yanked my shoes and socks off, and started painting my toenails.

"What the hell are we doing?" I asked.

"Getting you out of here, stupid," Tracy said.

"Jordan, they are only hassling the boys, not the girls," Blair said.

Then I understood the program. I tried desperately to find a different plan. I started to say, "The hell I'm doing this," but when a county sheriff's unit pulled up on the opposite side of the lake, it ruled out swimming for it.

Tracy said, "Blair, you need to look more like a girl too." When had she gotten so smart?

Blair took off her shirt and unwrapped the ace bandage around her chest. She said, "Take your pigtails out and give one of the ribbons to Jordan."

"I have something better," Tracy pulled a brush and a barrette with a pink flower on it from her purse. She parted my collar length hair down the middle and put some of it into the barrette at the back. She managed to get a small, silver one into Blair's shorter hair too.

I finally had my pants off and pulled Tracy's slip on; it was white with purplish threads at all the seams, and reached just below my knee. It was too large to stay up, but Tracy had safety pins in her purse. As she pinned the waist, she said, "Don't do something nasty in that, buster."

I sneered at her.

Blair dragged me to some bushes that were closer to one of the lights around the lake. She had put her shirt back on but still had noticeable breasts. I don't think I'd ever noticed them before.

She took out her mascara, eye liner, and other stuff and began on my face.

"I don't want to look goth," I told her.

"Next time we can worry about your look, Jordan, not now."

When Blair was done, Tracy made me stand up and said, "Needs something." She took off her blouse and bra and had me put on the bra. It was an underwire, of course, white with pink lace at the top.

Blair produced a Swiss Army Knife and cut her ace bandage in two; half went into each cup. Tracy pinned the back of the coat so it was much tighter. The top of my bra showed, and the wire pushed up enough skin to make it look real. She used the scissors on the knife to remove and unravel the lavender bow that had been attached to her blouse and tied it around my waist over the coat.

Then she grabbed Blair's and my shoes and the bottle of bourbon and took them to the lake and threw them in as far as she could. I watched as eighty dollars sank to the bottom of the lake. Tracy was back to her skipping self as she returned.

Blair had rolled up her shirt tail and tied it off under her breasts leaving her stomach showing.

I stared at her navel and its little gold ring. I said, "Christ, you look like a girl, Blair."

"Jesus, so do you, Jordan," she said.

Tracy eyed me up and down, smiled, and cooed as she said, "Ohhh, Jordan, you look so sweet! We're going to have to say you are just a freshman though, baby."

"Knock it the F off, Tracy!!" I said.

Blair told me to keep it down, and Tracy said, "Oh, just chill, Jordan. Get your shoes on quick." She pointed at the wedge heeled sandals she had been wearing.

Blair had produced her pool thongs from her backpack and, while I strapped on the sandals, she took off her belt and strung her necktie through the loops leaving the ends dangling at her side.

Blair said, "OK, now what do we do with him, Tracy?" Andy was still lying in the grass, passed out.

"That's the easy part," Tracy said as she sprayed something behind Blair's and my ears, she gave three extra squirts in my general direction, and then said, "Let's go girl friends."

I said, "No, look, there is no way I can pull this off, not with a bunch of cops. And we can't just abandon Andy. Just being drunk will get him kicked off the team. Then the whole town will fall into ruin."

Tracy sounded calmer and serious. "You really can do it, Jord. And we're not leaving Andy; we're going to get him a special quarterback's cab."

"But what about your shoes, Tracy? Look I'll just wait here."

"Na-uh, that's not what girls would do. You have to come, and those will make you walk better if you're careful. Besides, I go barefoot a lot; I have tough soles."

I said, "Three of them, I bet."

Tracy smiled at me. She had actually got that. Who was this girl?

She looked me in the eyes. "No, no, not really at all."

I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Immediately, I wondered if I'd just been tricked; I wasn't yet convinced she had a gentle soul at all.

Blair had crammed my pants into the backpack. Tracy wrapped her arms through Blair's and mine and, holding both our hands, led us towards the building. Half way there she said, "OK, Jorie, listen, your voice will be the hardest part. Don't talk if you don't have to, and if you do, do it at the top of your throat, but not from your nose. Try it."

I said, "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow."

Tracy pretended to melt next to me. She said, "You've been practicing, haven't you? But way toooo sexy! Maybe a little more nose, and higher. You're only sixteen. You walk great in those shoes too."

Well, everyone has tried to sound like Lauren Bacall, haven't they? And they were only three inch wedgies, not stilettos.

I used less throat, a higher pitch, and threw in a fake giggle. "Only fifteen. My birthday's still eight days away."

The second we reached the asphalt parking lot, a woman yelled at us. "You girls were told to wait at the gate." She was in plain clothes but definitely a police officer, and definitely thought herself an important one.

Tracy turned it on at once. "Mrs. Stern, hi." Worry dripped from her voice. "I - J - Hailey, can't find her phone! And can't call her parents. And will get killed if she doesn't. And would it be OK, please, if I asked Officer Benwell to shine some headlights over there for just a minute, please?"

"Hell, Tracy, do you know what's happened? Just make it damn quick." Then she yelled to a cop named Lloyd to come and help us.

Tracy ran over to him and got into the front of a cruiser. She screamed at us to meet her there. So Blair and I went right back to where we had just been. Well that was easy! I was kind of disappointed; all that worry for nothing

The cruiser came across the grass and managed not to shine its lights on Andy's carcass. The cop, Officer Lloyd Benwill I guess, laughed when he got out of the car and said, "Hell, I guess if I'as a football star, I could take three pretty girls into the woods at once too, but I sure as hell wouldn't be stupid enough to pass out."

Tracy was talking on the phone as she got out of the car, then she said, "OK, Cynthia is going to be behind the Seven-Eleven. Is that all right, Mr. Benwell?" Cynthia is Andy's sister, a senior.

"Yeah, but we need to do it fast or Lieutenant Stern will skin me, girls. Tracy, if he pukes in my car, I'm going to have your daddy make you clean it up yourself."

"I'll clean it up, but just don't tell him why I have to, OK?"

"How could you'll let him do this with the game against the Ferral High Wildcats just next week anyway?"

Blair said, "OH, we tried hard to stop him, sir. I think he was trying to show off."

"And why would he have to do that? If it happens again, I won't be able to help you."

"We will make sure it doesn't!" I said. Both Blair and Tracy glared at me to tell me to shut up, but the cop didn't see anything wrong with my voice.

It took both Blair and me to get Andy sitting upright but, once he was, he came to. He looked at me, put his arm around my neck, and said, "Hey, Jordan," and tried to kiss me. Then he said, "Hailey! Wow!"

I quickly put my lips on his to keep him quiet. The smell and taste make me nauseous, but he shut up. I could hear Tracy stop in mid-giggle several feet away, and Blair made a demi-retching sound right in my ear.

It took the cop's help to pull and push Andy into the back of the police car, but we got him there.

As Officer Benwill opened the front door, I said, "Can you tell us what is happening?"

"Not supposed to say anything, sorry."

"But why are they arresting every single boy??" I said, hoping to sound weak, scared, and pleading.

"We're not arresting them all at all. Just questioning them. Some boys were seen around the country club building and did something. Did any of you see a boy in a white jacket and dark pants, and one in a black shirt and gray pants at the dance?"

"Lots of boys wear black shirts, sir," I said. "It's like a uniform. But no boy would wear a jacket; it's too hot."

"Well, one did," Officer Benwell said. "Red Kipperman saw him running away from the club house just before the dance."

Tracy said, "Why is everyone so sure that it was a boy that broke into the clubhouse?" Blair's eyes shot daggers at her.

"Hell, no girl could have got up that tree and smashed in that window, Tracy. Come on, you'll get into the car. Let's get a move on."

I said, "We left our bikes over by the fence and can't leave them. We'll get them and head home."

"Wait!" the cop said, "those are your bikes! You two better go and tell the lieutenant that, right now! Go on. Get in, Tracy . You'll are gonna get me into it."

The cop wouldn't leave until Blair and I started walking towards the building and the lieutenant. When we were out of his hearing Blair said, "Why did you mention the bikes, Jordan? Shit!"

"I didn't want to get into the cop car. Duh. How come Tracy knows all the cops?"

"Because their garage takes care of all the town's cars and trucks, and she has worked there, answering phones and things, since she was about eleven, and played there her whole life. Now, why is this Red Kip-what-ever trying to frame us? And who is he?"

"Because he took the MacGuffin, obvi. But I've never heard of him."

"'Obvi??' Jordan, is that mascara getting into your brain, or something?"

I shook that off. "Give me your phone in case the cop ask if we found mine." (My parents are so dumb they don't think I need one.)

Blair reached into her backpack and came out with her phone, my wallet, and a small pink and white nylon bag. It was shaped like a backpack with two straps, but was only about six inches square.

"Do you have a kitchen sink in there? I'm thirsty," I said.

"Kath asked me to hold that for her at the pool once. Just be happy we have it," Blair said and handed me a bottle of water.

Just before we got to the parking lot I stopped. "Blair, she's going to see through this, you know."

"I don't think she will, Jordan. That cop sure didn't. Hell, I think she's more likely to think I'm a boy than that you are. Really, you look good. Relax."

Easy for her to say. I closed my eyes, and thought "PERKY", then I walked over to the head cop.

It took five minutes of standing there for us to get Lieutenant Stern's attention. She wasn't very happy to learn the bikes belonged to us. They had been her best lead, and we had taken it. She asked us about everything we had seen by the fence and at the dance.

Eventually, she stared at each of us and said, "Am I supposed to believe you rode bikes in those clothes and those shoes? Whose bikes are they?"

"Ours!" Blair yelled, "We just rode barefoot. One's a girl's bike, if you haven't looked at them yet. We had to get here and had to be dressed up, Ma'am."

"I'm not buying this. Are you sure you're not really a boy; are you just trying to hide from us?"

I couldn't believe she would actually say that! But she was looking at Blair, at least as much as she was at me, when she did.

"What!!" Blair screamed it loud enough for other cops to look over. "You want me to pull my pants down and show you!!"

"All right. All right," the Lieutenant said, "Some of you kids are a bit strange."

Blair glared at the woman. I said, "Can we go now? My mother will be worried about me."

Just then Mr. Friend, the high school counselor, walked over, probably because of Blair's outburst. "Hello, Blair," he said, "Lieutenant, I can vouch for Blair. She wouldn't have been involved with this."

"Damn it, Arnie, you have vouched for every single kid here all night long!"

"That's because there isn't any way any of these kids would have done it! Why in the world would any of them want the MacGuffin, Jane? And also, as I pointed out, it would have to be someone with a car. They wouldn't have tried to carry the MacGuffin on bikes."

"Well, this is a city park, not the school grounds, so I can't just start inspecting their cars. I suppose you know the other one too."

Mr. Friend had been looking at me while he spoke to the lieutenant. Now I looked up at him for the first time and said, "Hi, Mr. Friend."

I was sure the whole charade was about to come to a crashing end, but the school counselor said, "Hailey?! Yes, Jane, I know - hum-ma - her too. She in the honor society and wouldn't have done this either."

"Let me see both of your driver's licenses," the officer demanded.

"Um, I don't have one yet, Ma'am. I have last year's school ID; that's all."

"Why don't you? Hailey, is it? What's your last name?" She asked me.

"My name is Jordan, and I'm not sixteen yet," I said as I pulled out the ID, which had a picture of me on it. I hoped the light was bad enough, because my hair had been shorter then and a different color.

She glanced at the ID and didn't notice the comma between the 'Hailey' and the 'Jordan' on the card, but she said, "This isn't yours; the hair is brown."

"Yes, ma'am, I dyed it for a costume thing last month. It has started to grow out though, if you want to look." I had tried to get it as white as possible to be a mad scientist anime character at Ani-Con. That was why it was so long now too. I was going to get it cut and re-dyed after the next convention at the end of September.

"Jane, I told you who she is," Mr. Friend said, "I'm sure their parents will be looking for them soon. Can't they go?"

"All right, but not with the bikes. They are still evidence. If you want them back, bring your folks with you and get them tomorrow."

"But ...," I said.

Mr. Friend didn't let me finish. "Come on, Hailey and Lu. Come with me - Now!" he said.

We had walked only a few feet before he turned to me and said, "If you don't want to come with your parents to get the bikes, and I imagine you don't, come in the morning. I'm sure I'll be at the station until at least eleven, and might be able to help you. Or wait until Monday. This whole thing will be over by then. I'm real busy next week, Jordan, but I think we should have a meeting the second week of school about this. No. No," he said, cutting off my interruption, "Not tonight. Get away from the park -- both of you. I want to hear why you want to dress like this, but I can't tonight."

I didn't bother to try to explain any more but just started walking towards the gate. The cops had begun to let the boys go, and there was a parade of cars leaving the parking lot; pedestrians radiated in every direction from the building. A few girls still waited beside the gateway where the road entered the unfenced park.

I steered Blair away from the road; at least out on the lawn there was less light. She chuckled and said, "Stop worrying so much, Jord. No one is going to make you. Told you she would think I was a boy before she did you. It's because of this giant nose of mine. And you've been out of town for most of the last two months; no one's seen you with that hair color yet, remember."

"They saw it tonight, Blair! And will see it at school Monday. But Blair that's the easy part. We are being framed for this! And I've got to get those bikes back somehow before my parents notice they're gone."

"Settle down, Jor! Really. You had your stupid cap on when we were inside. You're always saying it's so dull; well, something is happening. Deal!"

I hate people that say stuff like that, and Blair was the worst because she actually did stay clam so often.

We were walking in a straight line for the group of stores across the street and three blocks from the gate. It wasn't a good destination either, the Starbuck's and Seven-Eleven would be crowded, but it was in our way if we were heading home. Just as Blair said, "Deal", a voice came from some bushes; "Well, hey. It's Blair. Hello, Blair."

Stifled chuckling came from the trees next to the voice.

Sydney Greenway and Lori Peters, two of the girls at the top of my "not favorite people" list, were lurking there. The pungent odor explained the lurking and the laughing. I couldn't believe they would be smoking a joint with all the cops around, but I couldn't believe they had a chipmunk's brain between them either. They always reminded me of some duo in old movies. Syd was husky -- to put it nicely -- and Lori was very thin, sort of like Laurel and Hardy.

Blair said, "Hello, Syd. Good bye, Syd and Lori."

Wait - uhm - a," Lori said, "Have you heard what happened?"

"Yeah, the cops asked all the boys a bunch of questions. Not a news flash," Blair said.

I was trying to stay in the shadows; these weren't people I wanted to recognize me dressed like this."

"Not just that," Lori began, but Sydney finished for her, "It looks like a pipe bomb went off in the high school, and five more have been found. The start of school will be called off for two weeks."

Blair said, "Oh, yeah? Great news. You know who it was yet?"

"Ferral High kids, of course," Sydney said.

"Tee-hee-ehh. Or one of the psycho nerds, like that friend of yours, Jordan or whatever," Lori said.

"Could be, sure," Blair said, and kept walking.

Sydney had noticed me, however, and said, "Blair, you've given up on Tracy and found a new little friend." Then to me she said, "You aren't very tall are you?"

I said, "Well, I, uh, I try to be."

Sydney and Lori laughed -- probably the herb. I doubt they recognized the line from The Big Sleep. It wasn't one of my better ones anyway.

Lori said, "You know about Blair? She doesn't usually look like that, you know. You do know whose side she's on, don't you?" Then she snickered.

I grinned and said, "I don't know which side anybody's on. I don't even know who's playing today." I couldn't believe my luck, two Bogart lines in one conversation, but I had had to deliver them in a high pitched voice; it's impossible to do Bogie and Bacall at the same time. This time Blair laughed though, and I wondered it she had finally recognized a movie quote.

We were saved by the bell, literally -- or almost so; it was eight bars of "I Kissed a Girl" coming from Blair's phone in "my purse". It didn't take much thought to figure out who would have that ring tone on that phone and, since they recognized the song, Lori and Syd were laughing too hard to stop me from moving away to answer it.

Tracy had found a ride, and I wouldn't have to deal with anyone who knew me. They were coming to get us where the bike path entered the park.

When I hung up I said, "Well we're out of the park, and I haven't been spotted. So you were right, Blair, but now I have to do this again tomorrow to get the bikes, and do you have any ideas on how to pin this on Kipperman?"

She said, "Just let the cops handle it, Jord, and Mr. Friend said it would be found this weekend, so wait until Monday to get the bikes too."

"He can't really know that, Blair. And my parents will blow up if they notice the bikes are gone. We need to take this case."

"Take this case? OK, Jord, Tracy will probably know who Kipperman is."

"Do you think the only reason he's framing us is because we were handy?"

"There's a tow truck up by the road. That will be her," Blair said, and we started trotting to it.

We crammed ourselves into the truck, and I wound up sitting on Tracy's lap. That was weird to me, but I was the smallest of us, and she was the largest. She wrapped her arms around my waist and kept stroking my sides. That made it worse.

The driver's name was Dallas McGee, and the second we were on the street he started talking about the game against the Wildcats and some preseason pro game; he didn't seem to noticed we weren't paying attention.

I whispered a question about Kipperman into Tracy's ear, but Dallas heard it and said, "Red's a good ol' boy. He has a landscape company and handles the grounds for the country club too. He likes to give jobs to the boys that play sports and need the money, and gives them time off for practice. It's a good job for football players; almost like time in the weight room. A good guy, but hard core. Don't you girls try messing with him."

He didn't say hard core about what.

We got to my house. Phase two of the gauntlet began. Dallas had left his yellow lights flashing for the whole trip, and having those pull into our driveway reduced my chance of a stealth entrance.

He had to come around to open the door for me because there wasn't a handle on the passenger side. I was going to make a mad dash for it, and started running up the drive, but Tracy further compromised that plan by jumping out of the truck and yelling, "Jorie! You forgot you bag." She came running after me with her little pink pack.

I said, "Trace, that's yours, and you're going to ..." I had to stop when she pushed me against the house and kissed me. Uh - kissed me exuberantly. I had never had someone else's tongue in my mouth before; it was interesting, but this wasn't the right time and I didn't want it to be Tracy's tongue.

I tried to think what Bogart would have said. I knew there had to be a line, but the one thing I'd never rehearsed was turning down a kiss. All that came to mind was, "It's better when you help." But that's Bacall's line and the opposite of what I wanted.

Tracy said, "You really are luscious, Jorie. Mmm, and tasty too." Then she trotted back to the truck; leaving me blushing by the door. That was all not the way it was supposed to be.

------------------------------------------------------

3: Interpersonal Conflict

In my biggest break of the night, my parents hadn't come out to investigate the noise or the flashing lights. I took a deep breath, opened the back door, and began to sprint.

My mother was in the den watching TV and reading. She yelled, "You're back."

I ran through the kitchen and up the stairs. My dog, Asta (a cocker, not a terrier unfortunately), chased after me.

I yelled back to my mother, "I'm a homing pigeon. I always come back to the stinking coop, no matter how late it is." I had to say that, I always did and it was expected of me. This time I also said, "I need to get to the bathroom."

I could hear her answering but couldn't understand the words. That didn't matter because I knew what she was saying: "My housekeeping isn't that bad. Come back down, I want to talk to you." She had to say it; she always did.

But her housekeeping was almost that bad. It's not that she was obsessive-compulsive though; she wasn't that organized, and she wasn't so compulsive that she kept old toothpaste tubes or things like that, just everything else.

I got into the bathroom and finally got to view what Blair had done to my face. It wasn't good; too much of everything, but she hadn't had much light. I spread baby oil all over and had one eye looking nearly normal when my mother called from the steps.

"Are you OK, Jor? I want to talk to you."

"Fine, Mom. Just a minute. Burritos," I yelled back through the door. The makeup wasn't being a problem, but I had no idea how to get the marker off my fingernails. Polish remover did a quick, but half way, job. It would have to do, Mom was calling a second time. I went downstairs without a shirt or shoes.

Mom asked me about the dance, and I avoided the question with an "OK," but she had heard about it, so I had to tell her about all the boys being questioned but said I had left the dance by then and not been rounded up.

I asked if it had been on the news or something, and she said, "No. Just all over the grapevine. Seven mothers have called here to see if your father knows anything about it."

"Does he? Where is he?" I asked. My father is the District Attorney. Don't think that made my life easier though; it did just the opposite. What would be little screw-ups for other kids would ruin his career if I committed them, and I knew it.

"No, he won't until the police have more to go on. He went to bed an hour ago," she said.

"OK, I'll do that too. Night."

"Wait, Jordie. Your coach called too. Cross Country practice is canceled for tomorrow, but you are to run three kilometers and call him with your time. Now, come and at least give me a good-night hug, first."

When I did she said, "That's not Blair I smell! Do you have a girl friend? Or did you use something to hide another smell?"

"Mother!? And I thought you were just being motherly. It was a trap. What are you sniffing for?"

"Grass or booze? And that was only a secondary reason; I wanted a hug too."

"You know I don't do that crap. I don't."

"OK. So a girl friend then?"

"I was with lots of girls. That's all you smell."

I was almost out of the room when she said, "Did you paint you nails tonight?"

Oh, hell. "No, Blair and Tracy got wild with some markers, is all?"

"And mascara?"

Shit! "Yeah, that too. Night." Then I got out of the room fast.

I took a shower and worked on my face and nails some more. An emery board was working on the marker but was very slow, I thought of using the edge of a file, but worried about how much damage that would cause to my nails.

Asta started barking in my room, and I knew Blair was at the window.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and let her in. Then I said, "I thought you would still be with Tracy."

"No. That driver dude was told to bring her home. You sure started getting on real good with her all the sudden."

I just shrugged. I didn't think Blair would think I was interested in Tracy, and would see it was only Tracy's moves.

Blair said, "I need to borrow some clothes for tomorrow. We are going to go and get the bikes, aren't we?"

"I guess it would look suspicious if we didn't. But, Blair, do you think I can do that again? In day light?"

"Yeah, you can, Jord. No choice." She had opened the secret panel behind my Murder, My Sweet poster.

My house was a ranch style, originally only one story. My room, the only one upstairs, was added later and was very long with a low, sloped ceiling and a dormer over looking the back yard. At one end of the room was a hinged piece of paneling that led to a crawl space. When the rest of the house got too full, my mother had me pile things in there. Blair knew lots of my sister's old clothes were in there.

"I'll look, Blair. Just a second and let me get something on." I took some boxers into the bathroom; asking Blair to turn around or something would have been useless. When I got back, Blair was standing in the storage room holding my tits.

"Damn it, Blair. Put them down!" I said.

"I doubt your sister ever owned these. She wasn't that worried about things like that. Even when she was smaller than these."

I grabbed the breast forms from her and said, "I got them to wear on cross dress day at nerd camp. You were there."

"Oh, yeah. You did look good. So you spent forty bucks to have boobs for one day?"

They had cost a lot more than that, but I didn't answer. Instead I took my breasts from her and said, "The stuff on the right will be too small for you. Look through the piles on the left."

Blair laughed and said, "You have the stuff that fits you separated? Are you a transvestite, Jordan?"

"The order is chronological. Look, you're one to talk, aren't you? Just grab some jeans and go. I've got to get to sleep."

"Uh, I'm not a transvestite, Jordan. I'm a girl. Remember?"

"Blahhck!" I said, "You are. I looked it up, and the word works for women too, Blair."

"Yeah, well, you know if you let Tracy know you like to dress up, she will crawl down you pants - or rather up your skirts - in a flash, Jorieeee. You would like that, huh, 'Luscious'?"

"Come on, Blair, I'm not interested and neither is she really. You know that."

"No I don't. I brought you some lip gloss and eye liner to use tomorrow, but you probably have some, right?"

"Shut up, jerk!"

I grabbed a long skirt that I thought would fit her and a pink t-shirt and threw them at her. I told her again to leave, but she wasn't done.

"You know that store, Hotz-N's, on Fifth Street. They have gaffs there. Ask for Terry; say you know me."

"Shut up, Blair. But you know where to shop. I guess they have things for female cross dressers too, huh? And you don't have girl's clothes to wear for even one day!"

Then I heard my mother's voice on the stairs. She said, "Who is up there, Jordan?" She was actually coming up to my room, a very rare occurrence. She opened the door and said, "Oh, hi, Blair. I think it is too late for you to be here."

"I was just leaving, Mrs Hailey," Blair said. She slapped the two tubes of makeup down on my desk and headed for the window.

My mother told her to use the door. At first I worried about my mother seeing the makeup, but that worry vanished when I noticed my breasts still lying on the bed. I sat on the bed and tried to push them under the unmade sheets.

Blair left by the stairs without another word to me. As she walked away, I called, "I'll take care of those things tomorrow by myself, Blair."

Mom said, "What were you fighting about?"

"A long story, Mom. Let's do this in the morning, OK?"

"Jordan, I want you to tell me what is going on. Not just this fight, but are you doing things and keeping them secret?"

"Mom, I told you I don't do drugs or get drunk. I promise. You have to trust me or lock me up. You've said that yourself."

She sat in the chair at my desk, and picked up the makeup. "I mean other things, Jordan. You can confide in me. I won't blow up, honey."

"Blair just has some weird ideas," I said.

"OK, some other time maybe. But, Jordan, it is time for you to take those steps off the tree. You are both too old for that."

"Trust, Mom?" I said, but I was also thinking it would be nice to not have Blair pop in all the time any more. "I didn't ask Blair to come over. I want to run before it gets hot tomorrow since I don't have practice, so I need to get to bed."

She sighed before she got up and said, "Good night then, honey. I love you."

"Me too you," I said, and she left.

I didn't expect to sleep well. I needed to find a way to prove that Kipperman had stolen the MacGuffin. I still had to come up with a way to get the bikes. It looked like I was going to have to go out dressed as a girl again tomorrow. And now, I had to figure out what the hell was going on with Blair too. She couldn't really be jealous of me because of Tracy's games with me, could she?

End of Part One

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Comments

More please?

Brooke Erickson's picture

More please?

Brooke brooke at shadowgard dot com
http://brooke.shadowgard.com/
Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
"Lola", the Kinks

Absolutely

please continue. I would suggest you might want a slightly wider palate of characters but this is very early and there is plenty of time for that if you want.

The story has a lot of potential. Andddddd .... since I have such insouciant tastes in all stories trans that should all you need for encouragement ;-).

Seriously, this is a worthwhile story and the readership can better gauge the quality of the story in the next couple of chapters.

Kim

Great Stuff

Someone who can write - how wonderful -
A story with humour, live personalities, great characters and a plot.
I have to say - FINISH this please.

XXOO Jenny

Encouragement

Amber P.

I've enjoyed the first part and look forward to subsequent chapters. Look forward to further interactions between Jordan and Tracy or perhaps Blair.

Amber P.

Very Good

Great chracter development and dialog. Good beginning on the story as well. Keep up the good work and thank you for sharing with us.

Hi,Enjoyong the story.

littlerocksilver's picture

Hi,

Enjoying the story. Found this typo: "OK, some other time maybe. But, Jordan, it is time for you to take those steps off the tree. You are both to old for that." That should be '....too old for that.'. Portia

Portia

There are more but ...

... Jan's delightfully off centre approach to story telling makes them almost irrelevant even to a confirmed anal retentive like me (or should that be 'I'? :) ) This is looking to be a wild ride and, as an elderly Brit, I'm likely to have problems following it but I'm going to try very hard so to do.

Geoff

Sounds promising

Wow, I've tried using this "guest reader" account before but wasn't able to post comments. Glad it's working right now as this story certainly deserves some encouragement.

A little confusing at times but overall one of the better stories of this kind I've read.
Tags are also making me rather curious about how this is going to turn out later on. Anyway, please post some more!

Like Several Others

I like it, and I'm interested in reading more. Please commit to finishing it if you are going to post more.

A whole lot more than just cross-dressing...

Patricia Marie Allen's picture

Great story. I've always enjoyed stories more that had some kind of plot beyond just cross-dressing going on. This one sure fills the bill on that one. The characters, though a bit eccentric, are interesting, believable people with realistic lives. Good show.

THERE MUST BE MORE!!!

Hugs
Patricia
([email protected])
http://members.tripod.com/~Patricia_Marie/index.html

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper ubi femininus sub ubi

Hugs
Patricia

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt

Thanks, everyone

Thank you for all the comments. I didn't really mean it to be confusing, but I did think the ambiguity about Blair at the beginning belonged there, (it lasted longer at one point). I have seen lots of typos too and will fix those soon. Right now I'm having connection problems and don't won't to do anything that will take very long on line.

I think you have done it and worked the kinks out of my fingers. I knew I could count on you. Thank you again. I have already done more this weekend than in the last two months, and I think I'll get this thing finished now -- not this week, I'm never very fast or prolific -- but sooner than before.

Hugs and Joy, all
Jan