Joanie gets her truck. The school band trys out new members and she picks up more clean-up crew. Joanie meets a Doberman with a strange name and it's trainer. Joanie gets advice from Sam Everheart about her house projects. She calls MSG for the latest on the Ultra-X investigation and talks with Gin's youngest sister, formerly one of the bad guys. Ms. Hartford gives Joanie a key to why Pinky's mom hates mutants and has a disasterous phone conversation.

---

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

---

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with home renovation and buying a truck, and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Detailing by Itinerant
Additional proofing by Janet Nolan

Chapter 12- 4X4-Lord Mr. Ford What Have You Done, Home Improvement 6, The New New Avengers 6, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 1

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Boston MA, April 23-24, 2007

April 23, 2007

Bad weather had delayed the transfer of my truck to Berlin. The same storm that made the morning so wet and gray at Whateley had dumped 5 inches of wet snow to our west a couple of days earlier. They couldn’t get the truck from the Buffalo, NY area to Berlin until Sunday. The dealership and the custom accessories people worked late into Sunday night, and part of Monday morning, to get it ready. Mr. Ford was taking a personal interest in my vehicle and used his *influence* to speed things up. I guess he didn’t want his publicity goldmine to be disappointed.

I arrived in Berlin a little before one o'clock PM, still shaken by that frighteningly vague, empathic daydream I’d had. I decided to discuss it with the gang later on the chance it was a precognitive vision. Despite my lingering worries, I got caught up in the glorious spring afternoon and was eagerly anticipating seeing my truck. I rode into the dealership and noticed several photographers and camera technicians busily filming me.

“Ms. Brown, over here, please!” called out Frank, my salesman. A thirty-something man in a high-priced suit stood next to him. I rode up close and parked my cycle.

~~I’ve seen that man on TV. He wouldn’t! ~~

“Good afternoon Mr. Ford. You didn’t need to come out for me. I made a deal, and I’ll stick to it,” I said, smiling while shaking my head in surprise at all the fuss.

“No, Ms. Brown, your champion, Senator Johnson, said you were absolutely trustworthy, and I was I fool if I didn’t thank you in person. Joanie -- I hope I may call you that -- we couldn’t waste the opportunity. Your rise to fame has been meteoric, and I hope your relations with Ford will prove as spectacular,“ said Mr. Ford.

“Meteors burn up or crash into the Earth; are you sure you wish to be associated with one?” I asked, and grinned.

“The Senator was right; you don’t take your success seriously. Perhaps meteoric was the wrong word, but we’ve made no mistake. You’re no flash in the pan; you’ll be around for the long-haul,” he said with conviction.

“You don’t know how true that is,” I thought out loud.

“You said something, Joanie?” Mr. Ford asked.

“I was thinking out loud. I’m a Midwestern girl, but I love this part of the country enough to plan on living here. I’m converting an old farm house into a rental property, and a barn into my dream home. I’m preoccupied with it,“ I explained.

I was informed later by Mr. Ford that the lifetime free service and repairs would be extended to my Focus. To them it was nothing much, how long will a person keep a car? I planned to get my money’s worth and then some.

~~I can see it now. “You bought this truck five hundred years ago, Joanie, and it needs a what?” The Ford service technicians will learn to loath me. ~ ~

“That explains the F250 crew cab. So many tall men and women buy them for the headroom or for the status a big vehicle represents, but whatever the reason we’re, or should I say I am, glad you choose Ford,” Mr. Ford said cheerfully. We chatted for a while as the cameras recorded everything.

I used the dealership’s employee break room to change into a more appropriate outfit for the ceremony and the ads they wanted to film -- bib overall cutoffs. I suspected the Oshkosh-by-Gosh people would not be too upset with my alterations. I wore a demi-cup bra and a man’s styled short-sleeved work shirt, my hair clipped in back, and the sexiest steel-toed work boots you’ve ever seen. The fetish shop back in Madison had the Steve Zink people make them up special for me, complete with a non-skid, oil-resistant sole, steel safety toe and insole, a built-in 3 inch rise in the heel, and ankle supports.

Okay, so it’s not an appropriate outfit for such a ceremony, well not traditionally, but I looked so good in it, and no one would connect me with Whateley. It wasn’t totally out of place; think of all the women models used over the years at the major car shows. My outfit was a cross between ‘Daisy Dukes’ and Pamela Anderson’s ‘Tool Time’ costume on ‘Home Improvement.’ Without the boots it could be a one-piece swimsuit. I walked out to the cameras and Mr. Ford started laughing.

“Y ... y ... you're serious about the farm project, aren’t you, Daisy Mae.” I giggled at his Lil’ Abner joke.

“I am, though I admit this outfit is slightly extreme. I can take it off if it’s a problem,” I said and started to unhook one suspender.

Mr. Ford eyes bulged out, for real. “Th … th … that’s not necessary … and I think Mr. Hefner would object.” He paused for breath. “Please, Joanie, don’t wear that on your jobsite; that is dangerously distracting, or the ‘other’ outfit either,“ said Mr. Ford as he calmed down.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist,” I said with a wide grin on my face.

“It’s mostly light demolition work -- removing bad plaster and the like -- cleaning up after the workers, and chasing for last minute supplies. The heavy stuff I’m leaving to professionals. May we get on with this? Places to be, things to do,” I said, as I flashed a huge smile at the gathering crowd.

They made a little ceremony out of the signing over of the title. They’d registered the truck for me and mounted the plates. The real plates were secured out of sight under the front passenger seat; these were temporaries for my protection. It was a suggestion of Frank’s, and he got a scorching kiss from me when I found out. I think he’ll be less condescending with future female customers after that reward.

I had a short, private conversation with him between the filming of the ads, and I told him how poorly he treated me when we first met and how much he had improved.

“That idea with the plates was thoughtful. Frank, so you deserved a kiss. You can be a great salesperson; I know it. Listen to your customers and pause to think before you speak. Once you knew what I wanted, you were a dream; before that you gave off sexist vibes. I’m a sixties child, Frank -- you can tell, can’t you?” I said and he smiled in response. “Use your knowledge with a touch of class, and you’ll go far in sales or whatever else you want to do. For practice, why don’t you try listening to the finance major in your office? You two might hit it off if you can ditch ‘Mr. Macho,’" I said.

I have suspicions we weren’t as alone as I thought, because later that day the college gal from the office came up to me, gave me a hug, and said, “Thanks.”

Between ‘takes’, Frank and various mechanics described all they had done for me. Most of the reliable but low tech storage batteries were replaced with the latest reversible fuel cell technology. This air/fuel cell combined storage and power production in one package and made this an all electric truck. In storage mode it converted the waste products from power generation into fuel gases and oxygen, which were compressed and stored. It did not suffer in performance or driving range as electrics historically did. The cells could use compressed natural gas, propane, alcohol, gasoline, or even diesel in a pinch.

The drive motor/regenerative breaking units used the latest in high-temperature superconductive materials and bucky-ball impregnated bearings to boost their efficiency and horsepower. The new drive train trimmed over five-hundred pounds from the truck's curb weight and increased its cargo capacity.

With the Z rated tires they’d included, the truck could do 0 to 60 in less than six seconds and topped out at over 160 mph with a load, despite the wind resistance inherent in an uncovered pickup. With the hard bedcover in place, the rear section contained a pop-up *flap* that acted like a spoiler or rear wing. With the hard-cover removed other tricks boosted performance. If the ‘bed’ was not filled too high, at speed a rollershade like device would extend a super-fabric cover. Retained by recessed tracks along the top of the bed this *soft-cover* could enclose much or all of the cargo area. A portion of the core of the tailgate telescoped upward then tilted back. This spoiler boosted traction and kept the rear-end on the ground just like the hard-cover *flap* -- both pushed the top speed much higher. Corvettes would have a hard time keeping up under those circumstances. The outer-rear quarter pannels in combination with the tailgate spoiler would deploy as dragbreaks to maximize high-speed stopping power exactly like on a jet aircraft. I was shocked when they explained it to me. My mind makes the strangest connections sometimes.

~~Why am I thinking of Slappy Squirrel? Oh! ~~

“My Ghod, I’m ‘The Little Old Lady from Pasadena’. I know that was a Dodge in the song, but you understand,“ I said in my surprise.

“There are songs about Fords, Joanie. I can get you copies if you like,“ said Mr. Ford, with a chuckle. He was clearly having a great time.

Oversized anti-lock brakes, traction control, and other high-speed handling features were added as part of the police package along with ceramo-metallic laminate armor for the passenger compartment. The glass was the latest in optical grade ceramics sandwiched over some new plastic based on bucky tubes. It was as clear as Lexan but far stronger. This gave the truck a resistance to armor-piercing weapons that only tanks could approach a few decades ago. Anti-gravity systems were used in a limited role: to help stabilize heavy loads and ease loading and unloading, improve handling, boost traction and absorb some of the energy in collisions to protect the passengers. The passenger compartment was re-enforced and equipped with multistage airbags and other advanced safety features.

“FYI, Joanie, your truck has the same type of armor as the new Presidential limousines we’re building,” said Mr. Ford with pride.

“My truck is better armored than the President’s limo?” I asked.

“It’s as well armored as the current Presidential limos, but it’s much lighter in weight. Oh, those Z rated tires have the latest in drive flat sidewalls. You can drive at up to 60 mph for a minimum of one hundred miles on a completely flat tire. These features will soon be standard on all our the top of the line armored products,“ he finished.

The accessories were better than I expected as well. The cycle carrier and loading system was fully automatic and could unload to either side as well as the rear. I only needed to get the bike within range of the device, activate it, and it did the rest. The towing package was heavy duty, but light in weight and self-storing when not in use -- it folded up under the truck -- unlike the rigid mounted kind that can damage cars in collisions. The kennel for the smilodons was sturdy, easy to disassemble and reassemble without tools, yet provided great shelter and protection to the animals. The police/emergency package included powerful lights and an electric remote-controlled winch mounted above the front bumper. I was very pleased with all they had done.

“I’m so happy with everything. The truck and the accessories I’ve received are far above what I expected,“ I said, grinning, as we finished filming the ads.

“Check this out,” said Mr. Ford.

He pressed the buttons on the keyless-entry key fob in a particular sequence, and the truck started driving to us. It maneuvered around the camera technicians and other obstacles easily and stopped just feet from us.

“That was a demonstration of our latest auto drive system -- that was the homing function. The same system allows the truck to self-park and to drive itself on most highways. It senses the edge of the road and other traffic and drives accordingly. You only need to set the maximum speed. We don’t advocate relying on it for that purpose, it’s more to prevent you driving off the road in snow, or having an accident due to driver fatigue or inattention. As a test, we did drive a vehicle with this system cross-country and, except for a professional test driver behind the wheel as a precaution, it did all the driving. We told the GPS navigation system where to go, and it did everything else. We’re very proud of our engineers' work,“ said Mr. Ford.

“This is a far more expensive a vehicle than I agreed to. I’m grateful, but curious; why?” I asked.

“You’re the best singer there is today, the best in ages, and you have done your best to help people in time of peril. I’ve seen the video of the rescues you made. You deserve our best effort -- that and the Senator said he’d push legislation to give sweeping powers to the EPA to set and enforce stringent fuel economy standards for all motor vehicles, including heavy trucks, if we didn’t sweeten our offer,” he said and laughed.

“He would at that,” I said, and broke out in giggles.

Mr. Ford and the dealership owner offered to take me out to dinner, but I begged off. I would have loved to eat at the Box-T again and catch up with Julie Anne’s parents, but time was too short.

“Thank you, but my friends are waiting for me back at school. I’m on duty tonight with Security, so I must run; perhaps another time,” I said as I made my goodbyes and drove off with my cycle secure in its carrier. I drove slowly at first, getting a feel for the handing. Except for some modest tire noise, the truck was extremely quiet due to the electric drive system. I decided to try out the collision avoidance and auto-drive systems another day. I did take it up to 100 briefly on a wide open stretch of road, and it handled like a sedan at 40. I was soon back at Whateley. I rushed off to the King Annex, where I found the core of my new band already in practice. A new girl was playing along on the xylophone and she sounded good.

“Cindy, you’re in History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, second period with me, right?” I asked.

Cindy was the girl who was so concerned for me when I sat in the teacher’s desk and acted like the class delinquent the Monday before. She became one of the best participants in discussion after I admitted that I was the substitute instructor.

“Yes, Joanie; I heard you say that you were still holding tryouts for your band so here I am. Why are you looking so happy -- I mean, happier than usual? If you smiled any wider your head would fall off,“ Cindy joked.

“I got my new truck today. That means I can start renovating the farmhouse and converting the barn on the farm I bought,” I said.

“I can see you being happy about the new truck, but happy about construction work?” Cindy questioned.

“It’s my first home, and apart from the exterior shell and the timber frame it’s a blank canvas. My hand will be on every aspect of its design and construction -- it’s my baby,” I said and smiled.

“It’s your dream home… It’s an adult-sized Barbie doll house!” Cindy said and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I suddenly remembered, Joanie, you are a Barbie doll. I bought a special edition Joanie ‘Barbie’ as a Christmas present for my younger sister. I’d like to be on your cleanup crew, but I’m allergic to house dust,” Cindy explained.

“There’s a lot to do outside, and we may need a gofer. If your allergy isn’t too bad, I am providing dust masks, and I’m renting portable fans to vent the building. You don’t have to be on my work crew to be in the band though,“ I said.

“I’ll think about it; I could use the extra money. I’m on a full scholarship, but that doesn’t cover lab fees and other unusual expenses. Mom raised me by herself, so we don’t have much in savings. I was surprised you’re still holding tryouts; I thought you’d be full up by now,“ Cindy said.

“I think Joanie intimidates the students,” said Pinky. “They get nervous because she’s such a successful singer and because she’s with Security. Joanie’s the sweetest girl I know, but they can’t see past the fame, or her quick trigger fingers on those Tazers,” Pinky said and giggled.

“I only use them as a last resort, or when I feel like it,“ I stuck my tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Besides the xylophone, what else to you play, Cindy?” I asked.

“I was in the school orchestra before I came to Whateley. I’m a percussionist. I can play kettle drums, chimes, vibraphone, marimba, and lots of special effects like temple blocks, sleigh-bells and slide whistle. I’m a fair drummer and a decent alto, if I may say so,” Cindy said confidently.

"I’m a fan of Frank Zappa’s music and some modern jazz. You can never have enough percussionists when it comes to popular music these days,” I said. “Cindy, this is embarrassing, but what’s your code name?”

“Barbie Q, I’m an energizer and manipulate fire,” she said.

“Not Incindra?” I asked.

“That’s too close to a registered super's name, and look at me. I’m a six foot tall, slim and stacked blonde -- Barbie fits, don’t you think?”

“Doh! It’s so obvious; I guess I’m more blonde than I thought … We could be sisters, you know … What was I saying? I like forgot, whatever!” I said, and giggled. They looked at me, trying not to laugh. “I am such a girl sometimes,” I said; now they all giggled or snorted. “Sorry for getting here so late; it took longer at the dealership than I expected.”

“That’s okay, it gave us time to try out Cindy. She’s good; she demonstrated on Lonnie’s drum set and sounded great. Cindy will be a great backup to Lonnie,” said Pinky. Apparently Pinky had been running ‘the show’ in my absence.

“Hi, Lonnie, I’m glad you could make it. Gang, Lonnie’s a magic type and was most helpful to me recently. What do you think of everybody here, Lonnie?” I asked.

“Pinky is right; Cindy is smoking. Suzy’s great on piano and pretty slick on electric organ and synthesizer. Her singing is the best. She must have had lessons, because she sings like she’s had professional training,” said Lonnie.

“Mom taught me, and I did have some professional training. Lonnie’s a fair singer herself. I thought Jenny and Pinky's voices were awesome,” Suzy said and blushed.

“Just so everyone here understands, Suzy’s mom was a professional singer, but ended up a banking auditor as she couldn’t make a living of it. It’s a tough business. She’s very good singer, though; I’ve heard her,” I said.

“Last time was at your Mom’s funeral, I … I did it again, sorry,” said Suzy looking sad.

“You know Suzy’s mom? I heard you’d rescued Suzy; heck, half the campus must know that by now. Peeper’s been spreading the word that Suzy is ‘hands off,’” stated Lonnie.

“The less you know the better, but, yes, I know her family,” I said.

“Family, I understand. I have secrets I need to protect too,” said Lonnie.

I see Tom and Tina Smith made it; did anyone else come?” I was disappointed in the turnout.

“Cheryl, the Crystal Hall cashier, got stuck filling in at her job, so she can’t make it tonight. She sent word through Jenny Chang she’s still interested. Jenny plays a hot fiddle, Joanie, and sings well too. When Pinky said you wanted us to learn some old country tunes, Jenny said she played the five-string banjo. She ran back to her dorm to get it and is off in the instrument repair shop tuning it. Tina played her twelve-string guitar and did some Joni Mitchell for us. She’s quite competent but Tom …” Lonnie winced.

“I came to give Tina moral support, and because I know many of you -- you’re all cute, especially you, Suzy. Um, you too, Joanie,“ said Tom. He smiled at me, or was it Suzy? “I’d like to help in some way, but I’m not musically gifted,” he said.

“That’s putting it mildly; my brother sucks,” Tina said and laughed.

“He has a limited range, and he needs training, but Tom...“ Poor Suzy was trying.

“Be honest, Suzy. It’s best,” I said softly.

“Tom, I’m sorry. You're bad, but not everyone has singing talent, maybe you play something?” Suzy asked in desperation.

~~The girl has got it bad. She’s coming to the staff gynecologist to go on birth control if I have to hog-tie her. ~~

“Sorry, I never learned, but you could use a gofer. A drum kit, even an electronic one, needs setup and take down, and there are the music stands, the sheet music, the chairs, and Suzy’s synthesizer. Cindy must need help too. I can be a big help and maybe I can learn to play something,” he pleaded. He looked so sincere, and I saw Suzy looking at me with those same puppy dog/kitten-in-the-rain eyes Mel uses to such effect.

“Okay, okay, I’ll find some use for you. Put away those eyes, Suzy, they’re dangerous,” I said and shook my head in my hands.

“Thank you, you’ll not regret it, Joanie,” exclaimed Tom, as he ran over, picked me up, and hugged me hard.

“Tom, let me go!” I half shouted, half laughed.

He looked so embarrassed afterward; it’s rare in my experience to see a guy blush like that. Suzy laughed so hard she dropped the sheet music she was holding. The light came on over my head.

~~Is this part of some bizarre practical joke to get even for Tom’s night with Lex and company? No one’s said anything to me and that’s suspicious. ~~

I pulled Tom back into me and kissed him on the cheek.

“That hug was kind of nice, but my boyfriend might object, Tom,” I said and gave him a fierce glower for all of a second until I snickered.

“What do you think, girls? A tight Speedo, some high-heeled copwboy boots, and Tom’s our pole dancer!”

“Joanie!” yelled Suzy, but I could see her thinking as she wet her lips.

* * * *

Cheryl managed to make it anyway, so we got the chance to hear her play. She blew a wicked cornet, a mournful French horn, and her sax was to die for. Stop snickering, dear d/j/w readers or you’re out of here. And I thought I had a filthy mind.

“You said you played alto sax, I quote, ‘not as well’ as the horns. You lied to me; you're great on the cornet and French horn, but you are a ghodess on the sax,” I said and gave her a quick hug.

“I didn’t lie! I don’t play it as well; I play it better,” Cheryl said and laughed.

“I deserve that for all the Brittany Spears gags. You’re in if you want, Cheryl. You agree, gang?”

They all gave their enthusiastic approval. We spent the next 30 minutes playing Bill Monroe’s ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky,’ a true crossover hit. I was pleased that they all could sight-read music, and they picked up the tune quickly. Each time we played we were noticeably better than the time before. We didn’t have a mandolin player, but my Les Paul, suitably tweaked, was a fair approximation.

After this one song, I knew this group held promise, and I was damned sure I’d do my best to help them prove it. Tina Smith was a competent singer, and her style complemented Pinky and Cindy’s range and style of backup singing. Jenny was a revelation -- how did such a petite girl hit such low notes? Suzy could match me note for note, flawlessly, except on the extreme ends of my range. She clearly had her mom’s talent, and then some. We tried a few times with Pinky and Jenny singing lead and yours truly helping the rest on backup; that worked well too. That gave us some added flexibility and ensured I would not hog the spotlight too much.

Tom was grinning with happiness at how well his ‘girl’ sang.

~~After Suzy goes to the gynecologist, he goes to the vet to be neutered, spayed, and fixed -- I’m taking no chances. ~~

* * * *

When we finished practicing, I offered to show off my new truck to them. Cheryl showed her big city origins; she thought it impractical.

“That’s going to be hard to park and expensive to run,” she said.

I demonstrated the auto park feature, and opened the hood to let her see the reversible fuel-cell system.

“It’s the latest in electric drive-train vehicles. It’s multi-fuel capable and highly efficient. I’m not buying it to show off like so many Hummer owners; I will use this to haul people, and supplies, and my cycle. And I need something to transport the smilodons to and from the farm,” I said; I showed them the kennel in the truck bed.

“You’re going to drive your smilodons around in that? The other drivers will crap in their pants when they see them. Sorry about the language, Joanie,” said Cheryl.

I showed off the synth-leather heated seats and the built-in food cooler/warmer in the console between the front seats. And they just had to include the latest satellite radio and premium sound system -- I wonder why? It was getting late when we went to eat. By six, I was at Security and starting my overlapping shift.

* * * *

A package was waiting for at the main desk. I signed for it and locked it up after giving it a brief glance. It was the results of a background check I had requested on Pinky’s parents. I only had time to read the overview, but it was not encouraging. At best, the father was uninterested in his daughter, as he and Mrs. Conners were drifting apart due to her increasingly radical, anti-mutant beliefs. He was turning to other women for “solace” -- by that euphemism, the investigators meant sex.

~~Guys, I know I look 17 but you don’t need to tone down the language for me. But still, that was sweet of them; I should give them hugs … Son of a …! I bet that’s why they did it. Ooh they are sneaky! ~~

More likely he’d been unfaithful since sometime before Pinky mutated and used her mother’s anti-mutantism as an excuse to cheat.

I patrolled with one of the K-9 officers, and she put her Doberman through its paces. She was good and so was the dog. Despite the temptation of several rabbits we spooked, the dog never left her side. She demonstrated its ability to detect forbidden items, as it easily found a small sealed plastic pipe she’d buried earlier that had a sample of an illegal substance in it.

“Do you think my smilodons will be able to do that?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not. I’ve worked with your friend, Pinky; they are quick studies and remember their lessons well. We’ve started them hunting for buried treats, and they seem to have sensitive noses. Time will tell, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Felines are supposed to be hard to train, but these two are nearly as well behaved as Fifi,” she said.

“FIFI ?” I screamed, then burst into giggles.

She held on to her dignity for a whole second before laughing joyously. We held onto each other to steady ourselves until we’d settled down. Fifi stood rigidly at her side the entire time; Dobermans have no sense of humor, I guess.

“He likes it, and it confuses the perps -- Fifi as the name for a male police dog? They expect Bruno, Spike, or Killer,” she said as we started walking again, interrupted by sporadic, recurring giggles.

* * * *
April 24, 2007

After an uneventful shift, I took care of the kitties and went to bed. I had odd dreams that night. I kept thinking back to the disturbing daydream. Something terrible happened or would happen at that spot. I was frustrated as most of what I had was only feelings, and little else. It was as if I held the key piece to a puzzle but I didn’t know which puzzle it was from.

At some point I woke in a cold sweat, twisted up in my sheets. From the way the smilodons were looking at me, I had been screaming. Although I had added soundproofing to the room and door, I woke my nearest neighbors who checked to see if I was all right. After assuring them it was a nightmare and apologizing, I changed my bed linens and went back to sleep.

This time I dreamt of that Goth girl -- Sara, the demon princess. She said my fantasy was a bit tame, but she obliged by turning into Eric and we … Normally I shower after my morning run; this time I showered before -- I reeked of sex. I changed my sheets again and showered. No sense confusing my friends about my nighttime activities. I have got to have more dreams like this last one or get laid. I was feeling so fine; I was silent as I ran. Often I’m a chatterbox, too much energy I guess. Pinky noticed I was in an odd mood.

“Why are you so quiet, Joanie? The excitement of your new truck wore off already?”

“Yeah, Joanie, what gives?” asked Tina Smith.

“I didn’t sleep well, I had a daydream on the way to Berlin yesterday and it worries me. I think it was a precognitive vision, but I don’t know what it means. It may have happened in the past, but something happened or will happen in or near the woods a little past my farm, and it was bad. Not much upsets me, but this was unlike anything I’ve ever felt, even when I had guns pulled on me in robberies as a man. My property is fine, as is the way from the farm to Whateley, but there is, or was, or will be something down that road.…”

“You are worried; hell, Joanie, I can sense that deep-down you’re terrified. You are one spooked girl,” said Pinky. ”I promise, Joanie, I will not go past your farm down that road unless we go as a group with you, okay? And Tina and I will pass the word on to the rest of the gang, right?” Pinky asked, and Tina nodded.

I was relieved they took my concern seriously and I was glad Pinky didn’t ask why I felt so good otherwise. I was not keen to explain what I’d done in my dreams.

* * * *

After my morning classes, I talked with Sam in Security about her Kane tower project. I’d seen her apartment a couple times and marveled at the craftsmanship. Though the natural theme was over-the-top by my tastes, I had to admit the work was first rate.

“I’ve seen your place; it’s not my style, but it’s beautifully constructed. I got a tip from the Sinclair girls, Jade and Jinn, that a girl named Fran Barnes can manipulate natural materials; she ‘persuades’ them to change shape. The girls said Fran did most of the wood and stone work in your apartment. Also, Fran cut the window openings and built the balcony, and she did this all through the use of her mutant powers. Jinn further mentioned something about Fran making the materials ‘flow’?”

“Fran did that; she’s a remarkable talent. I’m encouraging her to get formal training as an engineer and architect. It has to be natural material though. No plastics or steel. Why are you interested in Fran, Ms. Brown?” she asked.

Sam paused; her expression went blank for a moment. “… the southwest most quarter-quarter section of the southwest quadrant of town section 12 contiguous with the northwest most quarter-quarter section of the northwest quadrant of section 13 to the banks of Whateley creek inclusive, I understand. That’s enough, Hive. So you bought the Hennessey place and are applying for permits,” Sam said, then a smirk spread across her face. “You’re planning to renovate the farmhouse first, then the barn will be converted into your dream home. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got all domestic on us, Wild Child,” Sam said with a Cheshire cat smile. It was unnerving to say the least.

Sam had an odd sense of humor from all those years in combat -- all very hush-hush -- and sometimes gave me the willies. I was glad we were on the same side.

“I mentioned the barn has powder-post beetle damage, and Jinn said Fran might be able to repair that and make the wood as good as or better than new,” I said. “And what the hell did you mean by ‘Wild Child’?” I snarled in a bitchy tone.

I placed my hands on my hips and pouted defiantly, not the effect I intended. I meant to sneer menacingly, but it came out this sexy pout. I could see my reflection in one of the glass walls of Sam’s office. To Sam’s credit, she didn’t even flinch before continuing.

“She can do that and more; just give her a supply of wood, or stone, or whatever of sufficient size for the finished project, and she does the most amazing things with it. She cut the window openings in the Kane tower walls by ‘flowing’ the stone like the Sinclairs said. It only took a few minutes per opening and they’re holding up fine. You saw the bathroom grotto in my apartment -- that was her work.

“As to the other question, ‘Wild Child’ is what a few of the officers have nicknamed you. They know about the magazine, Ms. July -- remember we provided the security for your photo shoots. Given the outfits you wear sometimes, it seems appropriate. The Chief and I are discouraging the more lurid descriptions. Your nude photos will end up inside some of the lockers, I’m afraid,” Sam explained.

“I’m in some of the lockers now on those pop star posters; it’s no big deal. I want and need Fran for repairs to the original structure. It’s in my interest to save as much of the old building as possible. I must be careful not to spoil the ‘historic appearance’ of the farm or whatever phrase the local zoning board uses. The historic preservationists get real antsy when you alter the look of existing buildings in this part of the country. The guys from Operations -- who surveyed the site -- say the barn sits on a gneiss piece of rock ledge. Sam, I just made a geology joke; you could help by laughing,” I said.

“When I hear something funny I will,” Sam replied.

“Could Fran convert that into a monolithic rock foundation and basement? I’ll also need your input on security features. I was kidnapped last Halloween, and I need to feel safe in my home. I hope to have a family someday, and I want them kept protected, too. Now is the time to design with security in mind, and Sam, money is no object if it brings a significant increase in safety. I’m not taking anything for granite,” I added.

~~Come on Sam, this is my *A* material. *A* as in awful, be honest, Joanie. Ghods, why did I say *that* last one. ~~

“I have some time off tomorrow; I’ll drive over and draw up some plans. I know you’re not comfortable using a gun, thus your preference for the Tazers. I’ll devise a plan that doesn’t depend heavily on your ability to shoot,” Sam said. She looked me in the eyes and had a worried expression on her face.

“Joanie, I advise you to get over that feeling; you may need to use deadly force at some point. You’re too prominent a mutant and celebrity not to be at risk. If you won’t do it for your self, consider the danger you present to your loved ones. What if to save them, the only choice was to kill; what if that loved one was Eric?” Sam asked.

I gasped and my heart pounded. I struggled to keep control.

“How?”

“Hive keeps me well informed on any news that relates to Whateley. Don’t deny it. Your heart rate doubled within seconds of hearing his name. I’m deadly serious; your loved ones are targets,” Sam said.

“I will if I have to, but I won’t like it,” I replied.

I was angry at Sam for what she said and angry at myself for forgetting the risk I posed. I feared for their safety and for my ability to restrain myself should the worst happen.

~~If any of my friends, no … if anyone at all is hurt or dies because of me, Heaven help who did it, for I will show them little mercy, and none to my self. ~~

“Good, you realize the importance of this. I don’t like killing either, but sometimes it’s necessary,” Sam replied seriously. She began to smile and I saw that wicked twinkle flash in her eyes. “Joanie, if you keep making jokes like that last one, you will be putting your life in danger … from me,” Sam said and laughed.

I debated saying something like, “Gee, Sam, I was just getting my rocks off,” but that would have been tempting fate.

“Is there anyone else who’s good at construction? Operations said they will provide some work credit students for my projects,” I said.

“Ask for Harry Wolfe: he’s big, strong, and a genius with mechanical devices. He looks just like his name, right out of a werewolf film, but he’s a gentle soul. With Jinn and Jade that‘s everyone I worked with, except Stan and Morrie,” she said.

“Who do you think did the preliminary engineering survey?” I retorted.

“They’re a couple of good eggs and experts on Whateley’s below ground secrets -- trust them, Joanie,” Sam said.

“I do, Sam. Um, one last thing, where's …” I tried to say. I think the smirk forming on my face gave me away.

“Darren and Tabitha; I wasn’t born yesterday, Joanie,” Sam said, and prepared to dismiss me.

~~I may have to call in the big guns -- my Dr. Sara -- for a *consult* on this one. Sam is going down. I’ll make her laugh at one of my jokes if it takes all year. ~~

“Before I go, how am I doing as an officer? I’m not a full-time professional like you, but am I pulling my own weight, or is everyone being nice to the hopeless bimbo?” I asked.

“You’ve improved dramatically. You came into this without having gone through the military or a police academy and that’s a big disadvantage. Your mutant abilities make up for some of that, and your 49 years of life experience are a definite advantage. I agree with Chief Delarose that we should keep your duties light and continue training. Once we team you with your smilodons you’ll be a serious asset for night patrol, crowd control and apprehending violent offenders. The Chief said you have a good intuitive grasp of detective work; your youthful appearance is a huge edge.

"We won’t push you too fast Joanie; we are professionals. Don’t let anyone say you are not pulling your weight here; you are an asset to the department. Think of it; if all goes to plan, in a few months Whateley will have the first C-9 -- or is that S-9? -- police team in the world,” Sam said.

I snickered softly.

“You cracked a joke? And for me? Sam, I’m proud of you! Thanks for the advice and encouragement. You’re not the kind to butter-up a person, so I know that evaluation was honest. I owe you; how about we go out hunting this fall? The guys in the department say you love it. We can take the smilodons and have a great time. I’ll bet they make excellent retrievers once they are trained,” I said.

“But retrievers of what, ducks or duck hunters?”

”What? You don’t have a mastodon season in New Hampshire?” I asked in mock surprise.

Sam pointed for me to leave, so I walked out giggling. As I turned down the corridor to leave, I thought I heard Sam laughing.

* * * *

Operations was working up plans for my project so we could settle on a design and estimate the necessary supplies. I used the interval to check with MSG that afternoon on the progress of finding the people responsible for the Ultra-X-Amine homologue attacks. I was worried about the lack of any word on locating Tom and Tina’s missing parents. The odd line Suzy had shouted about not going back made no sense. Was it the fevered ramblings of her mind during burnout, or was there some significance to her words? Dr Bellows had *read* all three of them, and passed his findings on to MSG as they were officially part of the investigatory team. I was out of the loop and wanted in. I called MSG’s HQ.

“You have reached the offices of the Madison Supers Group. We are unable to answer your call at this time. If this is an emergency press zero for the operator otherwise wait for the tone and leave a message.”

~~I love answering machines.~~

-- BEEP! --

“Pickup the phone you lazy bums, it’s Joanie! You know, the tall sexy one who’s getting seriously pissed at talking to a machine …”

“Joanie, calm down, it’s Glacier Girl. Great to hear from you, um, why are you so upset -- what gives?” Her voice screamed ‘I am woman, take me now.’ Mind you, my voice isn’t much better.

“GG, any word on Tom and Tina Smith’s missing parents or the creeps who slipped the kids the Ultra-X-Amine make-a-mutant Mickeys?” I asked.

“Joanie, you watch way too many old movies. Best lay off the old detective thrillers. Impatient for results are we? It’s only a few weeks into the investigation. It’s rarely like on TV,” GG said.

“Suzy’s my niece! Of course I’m fucking impatient, and Tom and Tina are friends!” I said with anger.

“Temper, temper, Joanie; you need to relax. Have some sex, dear. We’ve looked for commonalities in the children’s backgrounds and that of their parents. We’ve looked at places they’ve been to, activities, social clubs, and conventions, whatever. Suzy’s fevered ramblings about not going back may have paid off. All three of them attended a national honors camp for gifted middle school and high school students in the sciences. It’s the only connection we could find between them. The camp was held during Christmas break at a large convention hotel in St. Louis, Missouri.

“At the camp, they participated in a genetics experiment. Each of the nearly one-thousand students gave blood samples for analysis. The testing lab is legitimate, but the tests done and the way the results were used was not normal. The students were told this was a test of genetic markers across and along ethnic lines. They were told the experiment would look at hair color, skin tone, height and weight, and not much else. The samples were subjected to a thorough scan for suspected markers for so called mutant genes. Some of the tests are not yet FDA approved. Not everyone who has the marker genes becomes a mutant, but the more you have the greater the likelihood, though the odds are still low. If you don’t have them you’ll almost certainly never become a mutant. The MCO uses such tests to uniquely identify each registered mutant. Several specific markers were supposed to be a secret known only to the MCO and a select number of researches. Our Dr. Sara and her mentor, Dr. Otto, are members of that elite ‘club.’

“Of all these students, only a dozen tested had twenty or more of the forty-two suspected markers, and only three had more than 35 of them -- guess who?” she asked.

“My new friends?” I suggested.

“Bingo! Pretty damn swift aren’t you, Joanie. By the way, you have all 42 markers now, but a test of a DNA sample from some of your old male clothing showed you had just 21. When Dr. Sara said you got the best of all the best gene combinations of your possible selves, she wasn’t kidding. By the odds, you would normally never have mutated. Because of the way your mutation changed your genes, you will likely give birth to mutants. Some of the markers are in the mitochondrial DNA, and only the woman’s mitochondrial DNA carries on to their children, not the male's.

“We’re trying to track down the doctor and two nurses who took the samples. The originally scheduled team had a traffic accident on the way and never made it. The replacements had all the proper paperwork, but hours after the science camp ended they and their records disappeared,” GG said.

“The accident smells of being staged to make a switch in the staff,“ I said.

“They all suffered broken legs, and all were similar fractures and inconsistent with the damage to the vehicles. We suspect they were drugged at their motel, had their legs broken by a doctor, then placed in their damaged vehicle and revived. The police who later interviewed the victims of that crash say their recollections around that date are all fuzzy,” said GG.

“The news on the Smiths is not good. The police techs found blood splatter in the family house. It was partially cleaned up but still detectable,” she said.

“Could it be from an old accident?” I asked.

“The DNA was too intact; there was no measurable degradation in the chains. The blood was fresh, Joanie, from during or just after the twins’ mutation. It doesn’t match the childrens’ types, but it does match the wife’s. Her blood type was on file at the hospital where the twins were born. The father’s was not known but can be guessed at from the twins’ and mother’s types. The large area of the splatter suggests the parents were forcibly abducted and injured during the attempt. I’m sorry; we’re trying, but it doesn’t look good," GG explained.

“Any luck on the Ultra-X-Amine homologue end of the case? The two hit men from the ferry must have provided some information,” I queried.

“They were contract ‘muscle’, Joanie, they don’t know much. The one Gin turned into a little girl is trying hard to help by remembering every detail she can, no matter how small. She was an ex-MP and US Army Ranger, and had a clean service record. She thought this was a government freelance assignment. The other one is a thug, and we had to ‘persuade’ him, but he knows little. The contract to kidnap or kill Suzy was awarded anonymously, and through various intermediaries, to prevent the buyer and seller from direct knowledge of each other. They know nothing of the Smith’s abduction … Hold on moment, Joanie.”

“Yes … She does? … Wait a moment and you can ask her,” GG said to someone in the background.

“Joanie, Gin here. I have someone who wants to talk with you. Go ahead Katie, I’ll be right next to you if you get scared,” Gin said in a soothing voice.

~~Katie? Gin’s never mentioned anyone named Katie. ~~

“Ms. Joanie,” it was a young girl’s voice. “I’m Katie, Gin’s new sister; I was the man who tried to shoot you and the girl you rescued. Please forgive me, I was told I was stopping a dangerous mutant terror … terror … terr … Gin! I can’t remember the word. I’m scared!”

“Terrorists, Katie. You're doing fine; continue, dear,” Gun encouraged him, I mean her.

“That’s no excuse for what I did. I want … I need to tell you this now. My mind, my old mind is fading; I’m forgetting things. My memories of being a man are becoming like a dream. I have to tell you while I still can. Sis, I mean Gin, is nice to me and the family is so good. They bought me this kewl girl’s bike and the cutest jeans with Hello Kitty on them,” Katie said then giggled.

~~Must be the spell changing her. ~~

“Are you happy? It must be confusing losing your adult memories and acting like a little child,” I said.

“It’s bad sometimes, when I can’t do something that I used to do so easily. It’s hard being a little girl at times. Mostly I’m happy. I’m so happy I could burst. Gin tells me it’s the spell, but I don’t care; I’m happy for the first time I can remember. I … Goodbye, Ms. Joanie, tell the girl you saved I’m sorry. I hope I’ll see you someday, but it will be the new me then, the girl,” Katie said.

“I forgive you, Katie. Those people didn’t care who they hurt. You’re a victim as much as Suzy. That’s the girl’s name, she’s my niece -- my cousin’s girl -- and I’ll tell her how remorseful you are,” I said

“Remores …?”

“Remorseful; it means you’re sorry for what you did. You keep being the best girl you can, and maybe I can be your favorite rich Aunt. I have friends in the music industry, and I can get you posters and stuff from your favorite singers. If you’re very good, I’ll bring Suzy to meet you. You can give her a hug and tell her how sorry you are,” I offered her.

~~Sweet girl, I hope she grows to be as sweet a woman. ~~

“You can do that, Aunty Joanie? Gin, Aunty Joanie promised me presents and a visit from her and a friend if I’m good,” Katie almost shrieked.

“That’s because Joanie’s a nice lady, and she’s also Joanie that singer you like to listen to,” I heard Gin say.

“Oh my, you’re my favorite! Don’t worry I’ll be the best girl I can be. It’s okay being a girl, I’m young and pretty and I feel happy … Oh, I’m sleepy. I get sleepy a lot now. Bye Joanie … thanks,” Katie said. I could hear sounds in the background, but I wasn’t sure what they were.

“Joanie, Gin again. Katie nodded off; it’s a sign the magic is still changing her. Before you say this is identity death, it’s not. Katie will retain all or most of her adult memories, but they will be like dreams, as she said. Her old personality comes and goes, but she’s increasingly a girl now.

"I’m not a cruel sorceress; in an emergency she will remember and have access to adult skills that can help. If she sees someone injured, her military first aid skills will return. The same with spotting and avoiding danger; she’ll have to do them in a growing girl’s body, but the knowledge will be there. She got sleepy because she was trying so hard to remember when she was a male so she could make a proper apology. He had, and she has an intense sense of honor; she’ll be one special woman when she grows up. She told me she had to talk to you while she still remembered what she’d tried to do, or it wasn’t an honorable apology,” Gin said.

“Are you sure Katie will be okay?” I asked

“The spell is working exactly as it’s intended. She’ll still be her self, ‘his’ consciousness won’t fade, but ‘her’ soul will match her body. She was transgendered to a considerable degree. It was like a bad movie cliché, she was ‘overcompensating’ for her desire to be a girl by going into those macho professions. I feel like I should wash my mouth out with soap for spouting that Hollywood Freudianism,” Gin said and snickered.

“You’ll get over it. Have some sex; that seems to be GG’s prescription for relieving stress. Gin, please, no cheap come back about needing it in the form of a deep injection,” I said.

I imagined making a face like a little girl praying, my palms together, the thumb and fore-finger touching my nose and chin. I looked like one of those figurines they sell in the chain discount stores, or so I did in my mind.

~~I have got to get a video phone. ~~

“I would never stoop to something so crass; I’ll just seduce the starters on the basketball team. I can play the nymphomaniac cheerleader,” Gin said and giggled.

“Gin, with your level of energy, you had better make that the marching band,” I quipped.

“Oh, that was downright bitchy. You’ve gotten worse since you left us; Dr. Sara would be proud of that comeback. Joanie, Katie’s a good child. I’m proud of her; she’s learning Hmong so she can fit in better with the family and our relatives. She asked me to teach her, on her own initiative. She’s picking up the language like a sponge, as well as learning to act like a girl. She’s an exceptionally bright child, she’s smarter than me, I think. The family loves her and has accepted her wholeheartedly. They know she’s as much a victim of those bastards as the kids are, and you nearly were,” Gin said.

“You see to it she’s a happy child. That’s kind of why I’m calling, in addition to checking on the investigation. I’m helping with a case involving sexual and child slavery, mind control, illegal pornography, and money laundering. The victim is the sister of one of the Playboy models I met. If the crooks learn I’m involved, my friends could be at risk. I’m sending a detailed email to Red and Dr. Sara and to the Williams-Johnsons to warn them. Pass the word to the rest of MSG and the hospital staff, please; these people are suspected murderers,” I said.

“Will do Joanie; oh, GG has a question,” Gin said.

“How the hell did you get to be Miss July, Ms. Scrawny Butt? I’ll admit you have a great bust and the face of a Madonna/whore, but that middle-school girl’s ass and those skinny limbs? It doesn’t fit with the rest of you. Where are your womanly curves? Have you no pride?” GG asked in jest.

~~This is a challenge; you’re going down bitch. ~~

“GG, I’m built like swimmer or runner, albeit a busty one. I have an athletic build with a firm, youthful, and sexy ass -- not your refugee-from-a-rap-‘booty’-video butt. There is nothing wrong with being voluptuous, I wish more women had such figures -- I was a man -- but GG, you are plain greedy. There are skinny girls out there praying for a little cleavage, some ‘meat’ on their bones, and you go out and hog all that lusciousness, Shame on you,” I said perfectly straight-faced, then I fell apart laughing.

“I’m ticked off you got the centerfold and I didn’t, though I’m in the issue. Most of the MSG women are except for Carrie, but you know her mom’s wishes,“ GG said.

“You made the issue? What section?” I asked.

“They said most of the photos are by region; MSG is in the ‘Best of the Mid-west’. I’ve seen some of the proofs. I am so glad Dairy Maid wears those bib overalls most of the time -- wow, what a figure! She’s nearly as hot as me. We have you to thank for this, Joanie. The way you raved about us to the photographer team that shot you got them to check us out on their way back to California. We’re getting generous model's fees as a result. Many of us have college debts to pay off despite government aid as members of the Wisconsin National Guard.

“They took photos of Dr. Sara; they were so impressed with what you said about her, she got a mini pictorial to accompany the interview she gave on mutants. I never thought a lab coat could look that sexy. She looked better without it. Sara is outstanding -- the epitome of brains and beauty. It’s unnatural, Joanie, there’s not a sag or wrinkle on her anywhere.

"Did you know she interned as an Army surgeon in Vietnam in the 1970’s just before the fall of Saigon? Sara’s nine years older than you, John. Remember, she had to tell me about your past so I could protect all your old public records. That took guts and pride for a 58 year old woman to pose in the buff. If she looks 28, that’s a stretch. I think she agreed to the nude shots to impress Senator Johnson. That may be why he’s been sneaking into town so often,” she said.

“What have you heard, GG?” I asked with excitement.

“Nothing, but then I don’t live in her building,“ GG said and paused.

“What?” I shrieked into the phone. GG chuckled.

“He stayed the entire weekend -- the Senate was in recess. They spent most of the time in her apartment, or so Carrie said. Dr. Sara has been awfully perky since then. She’s glowing like a newlywed, and she’s dressing sexier, too -- still classy, but sexier. Red says Sara is acting like she’s fresh out of college and not a thirty-years plus veteran,” GG said in a happy tone.

“I think it happened because of me. I encouraged Joe and Sara to get together; but I never thought they’d move so fast. Ghod, I told Joe to go to Madison and give Sara a good screwing only this last Thursday! To think he took me at my word and so quickly! I’m not complaining. It’s about time the two of them found that special person; they are great people and deserve some happiness. It’s I didn’t expect they’d be so enthusiastic about my, um ‘suggestion’. I thought I was the one with the rampant libido.

“Remember to pass the word around MSG about a possible backlash from my investigating those slavers, okay GG?” I asked her.

“You got it, Joanie, I’ll warn everyone who knew you. One last thing; how are things between you and the school boy?”

“We’re not together as much as I’d like; we only can do it for an hour every Friday night. And that’s talk on the telephone, Ms Nosey,“ I said and hung up.

* * * *

I had some time left before my band was to meet, so I read over the report on Pinky’s parents. Security had been thorough. They’d checked in the various on-line databases and police records for any references to the two. Their findings combined with Ms. Hartford’s recollections in a disturbing way. Ms. Hartford said her sister was a happy child, but took it hard when Amelia mutated.

“My sister could not accept that I was a mutant; she kept looking for a cure for my condition. We drifted apart more than we might have otherwise. She joined a 'families with mutants' support group; it didn’t help as she refused to believe I’d always be a mutant. I wish I could tell you more, but we haven’t talked much for years, Joanie,” Ms. Hartford said.

~~Hartford called me Joanie; she must be serious about this subject. ~~

The report stated that Pinky’s mom next joined several groups that claimed to be researching a cure, then later the church the Most Righteous Reverend Darren Englund is affiliated with. He believes being a mutant is a gift from Ghod if you believe precisely as he does, or a sign of the devil if you disagree. He is not a well-liked man on campus, but he is on the board, so what is a mutant to do? As self-righteous as he is, the sect she joined after Pinky’s mutation is worse. An offshoot of Englund’s group, they believe a mutant is a sub-human, and becoming one is proof your soul is corrupted and beyond redemption.

The father increased his time on the road after Pinky mutated; his credit-card records suggested he’s been seeing other women for some time. There were numerous bills to florists, confection shops, and even strip clubs.

Someone knocked on my door; it was Pinky. She’d come to give the smilodons a walk before band practice. I hid the report and casually asked her if she remembered her mom ever getting flowers or candy from her dad, but she had no such recollection. George and Gracie waited patiently as we put on their harnesses, they love going out. I waited until she was gone, then I took out the report once more.

I decided Dad was a dead-end. He’d not been close to his daughter, and he was likely estranged from Pinky’s mom. If he did have a steady woman, what woman would want a teenage child that was a reminder of her man’s previous lover? Pinky being a shape shifter compounded the problem.

My hope for reconciliation was to appeal to the young girl inside of Pinky’s mom, who had lost her older sister Amelia to the ‘mutant scourge’. If I could build on that and reach her, maybe I could slowly get them back together. If I could shatter her prejudice about mutants, Pinky would get back her loving mom. It was worth a try.

I called from my room on my cell while Pinky was still out giving the smilodons a walk along the edge of the campus woods. It was a reward for their good behavior -- no dead couches in weeks.

“Conners' residence, Mrs. Conners speaking,” she answered.

“Mrs. Conners, I’m Ms. Brown and I’m one of your daughter’s teachers at Whateley Academy. May I speak with you?” I asked as politely as possible.

“You may, but I won’t change my mind,” she said defiantly.

“And why do you say that, Mrs. Conners?”

~~Marvelous! Here I’m trying to be diplomatic, and I sound like a cut-rate psychiatrist. ~~

“You’re trying to persuade me to take my daughter back, to forgive her, Ms. Brown,” she said.

“Yes and no, Mrs. Conners, I’d like you to get together. I don’t like seeing families torn apart. She misses you and is a model student despite her heartache. You can be proud of her; she’s earning high marks in her classes and is mastering her mutant abilities. She’s no threat to herself or others, if she ever was one. She should remain at Whateley, as we have the best people and facilities to make a successful woman of your daughter, but it would do her good to see you from time-to-time. If finances are a problem, I’ll gladly help drive her to see you. I lost my mother to cancer almost two years ago, and it hurts me still. I’d love to see a mother reunited with her child,” I pleaded. “You have a lovely daughter, Mrs. Conners.

“I had a lovely daughter until her sins turned her into that abomination. So she’s a model student; the Devil can assume a pleasing shape. She’s a sinner and a liar,” Mrs. Conners said with venom behind it. I could hear the hate in her voice.

“A liar?” I asked.

“She persists in slandering her doctor, claiming he’s a child molester and that he raped her. He’s a Ghod-fearing and honest man.”

I restrained myself from the urge to say something nasty.

“Mrs. Conners, I have contacts in the local police and with the Boston court system, and I assure you the evidence supporting your daughters claims of sexual assault by the doctor is convincing. There is solid evidence he assaulted other children under his care; the man is a child predator,” I said calmly.

“Lies and fabrications! The so-called evidence is all faked,” she said loudly.

“Mrs. Conners, a federal judge was a direct witness to some of the doctor’s crimes. Are you claiming the judge is a liar?” I asked.

“No, he was deceived by that mutant Jezebel, that Joanie. The woman goes out in public in scandalous clothing and sings songs that glorify wanton sex and the devil. She probably had sex with the judge and is controlling him with blackmail or the dark arts -- she, with the help of my ex-daughter, the lying whore.”

~~This woman is a fruitcake ... WHAT DID SHE SAY?! Calm down Joanie; you’re doing this for Pinky. ~~

“Mrs. Conners, I assure you that every song that Joanie sings is suitable for a general audience, except for Black Leather; that one is maybe PG13. The government wouldn’t let them be broadcast if they were obscene. Her costumes, though often revealing, were acceptable for broadcast on a major television network.

"And, lastly, how dare you call your dear child a whore and a liar! You call yourself a mother after denying your only daughter comfort in her time of need and disavowing your own sister Amelia.

"I am a virgin, you prejudiced fool! I am ‘that’ Joanie, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. You, dear lady, had better see the light or there will be a special place reserved for you in hell. I’m not certain if there is an afterlife, but in your case there had better be. One lifetime is not enough to punish a hypocrite such as you. Good day Madam!” I shouted and slammed the phone down, not easy with a cell.

I turned to see the smilodons cowering and Pinky staring at me, tears streaming down her face.

* * * *
To be continued.