Reform, Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I Scream, You Scream, We all Scream for Black Mail

Evelyn and I dove eyed each other on the sly across the abyss of cafeteria tables while enjoying our second scoop of ice cream. The cafeteria was massive, as big as the gym, but I was pretty good at filtering the cacophony of excited surprise two scoop of ice cream girl talk, silver ware clinks, and Snuggle Bunny leers.

Ash went on and on about the old man she conned into thinking she was a boy. He was a tank repairman vet in the War of Reduction, claimed to have killed an armed DDU spy with a broken whiskey bottle in a Texan tourist trap cavern while millions of screaming bats swarmed around them, polished his medals everyday, knew inside and out every engine every devised by man, and despised the slightest bit of government intrusion except for DDU killing and “interstate” roads to the point that he donated all his social “lazy old fart” subsidies to a nonprofit organization that monthly judges and awards teenagers for quality street graffiti. He keeps his Vet Pay, “cuzz I earned my Commie killing wages!” Of course the DDU isn’t precisely communist, but some people find it simpler to lump all “smart talk bullshit” into one convenient word.

The two solitary wolves worked all day. They broke fast and lunched and dined, but the rest of the time they worked. He fixed parts on his worktable where he could use a scope to augment his fading eyes on broken gears, and Ash would then install the fixed dingus while the old man fixed something else. Symbiosis between an old wolf and a young wolf. At night they would light a fire, crack a few beers, and the old man would talk on and on about history and his personal adventures as a younger man, and his wife ten years gone who was the only thing on the planet that ever scared him; all the while Ash sat Indian style and piqued him on.

I listened, intently even, but mostly I plotted. It was the most tricky operation I’d ever schemed. My black and blue bottom already smarted, and if I didn’t play it right it would smart a whole lot more. Hell, even if I planned and played it just right, just turn on a dime right, I could still catch it bad. My tummy begrudged the extra chocolate I gave it, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason.

My roommate Lauren separates her food, by each food group, into 90% and 10% portions. The 90% she eats like a sane person would. The 10% she saves for last, as that was the portion she set aside for Dr. Featherstone, her teddy bear. She ate the bit of meat and vegetable and fruit and ice cream and extra portion of ice cream as a surrogate for Dr. Featherstone. In confinement people will find rituals to add purpose to life, no matter how Martian. Watching Lauren relaxed me, and I needed relaxing.

Lauren, apathetic to the conversation, still detected a lapse in communication, and did her civic duty to propose a topic.

‘Coach Van Brown,’ Lauren began as she scooped up some of Dr. Featherstone’s steamed broccoli, ‘Is in the kitchen, overcooking the broccoli.’

Senator Gail, gingerly sitting as I did, poked her fork at the center of the girl palaver. ‘She’s practicing. I heard she finally got missionary work.’

‘So?’ I said, absently.

‘An expedition to an ice belt mining base around Venus needs a cook, not a coach. So she’s been in that kitchen learning how to cook everyday and night with her IPod blaring 80’s inspirational pop music so loud you can hear it through the earphones five feet away. Even has Alexia subbing all her classes. I’ve been catching it pretty regular from her, but even I’m happy for the break. Alexia is a more verbal coach than Coach. She licks me so often I’m more comfortable getting her strap than running the mile in six minutes to get Coach’s paddle for not making five. It’s sad though. Every time Coach sees one of us she has to fight back tears. I walked in on her in the kitchen to get her to sign some papers, felt embarrassed at watching a grown woman sniffle like that, then had to go back in because she forgot an initial and that just broke her. I’ve never seen a victim of her paddle cry like that, and I’ve seen plenty of brave souls assume the position. It’s hard not to look at bravery.’

Snap.

I had it.

Snap snappity snapsnapsnap.

I snapped my fingers. Everyone looked at me.

‘Er… I was trying to remember my high school locker combination.’

I don’t think they believed me.

‘Really.’

* * *

The bulletin board was Matron’s only chance to catch me. As expected, Matron had a goonlet casually stationed at the bulletin board at all hours. That was the bottle neck. I had to get my terrorist demands on there free and clear. I waited for the bedtime rush, but knew perfectly well that Killroy (I hate to be banal, but I think she actually did kill a guy named Roy—with her ruler) knew her job and didn’t miss a notice or a girl’s face with those beady little rat eyes of hers.

My time in line, I made to put mine up, thought twice, and showed her the notice calling for people to join a book club to the toothpick chewing flunky. ‘Is this eye catching?’

‘Sure.’ She chewed on her toothpick, not reading much herself except the Riot Act.

‘You sure? Cuzz I thought the Col de Mort symbol might be a little...’

‘Tack it, Archer, you’re holding up the line.’ She was from Brooklyn, which was only half as courteous as my college home, the Bronx. I tacked it right in the middle of the board, smoothing it once down and once up, and beat it to home base.

When I have to wait I feel like my heart is going to break my ribcage, fly out, and break the ribcage of anybody standing in front of me; but my trick is to pretend that I’m a really cool person with lots of patience. I turned it on. I had to wait twenty minutes before acting, and after only twenty minutes my trick worked. I need a new trick.

Killroy was still there, on her seventh cigarette substitute based on the toothpick detritus around her feet. She eyed me as I approached the bulletin board with a new sheet of paper.

‘You’ve got a lot to say today, Archer.’ Meaning, ‘You can say it or you can scream it, so just fess up.’ She fingered her ruler. It was a vicious plastic number. It and my fanny knew each other intimately.

‘I realized I have a conflicting poetry recital so I had to change the dates for the book club meetings.’

‘Give it here. I want to see if it catches my eyes.’ She took it and compared it to the tacked notice. They were the same except the meetings went from Wednesday, when I did and do indeed attend a poetry recital, to Thursday, when I stare at the wall and pretended to watch TV.

‘Do you like poetry?’ I smiled dumbly.

‘Like a stick in the eye. OK, Archer, tack it and be on your way.’ She’s going to make some lucky man a great murder victim.

This legerdemain would require more focus than I was capable of, so I just did it without thinking at all. You might need to read this several times. I pressed the new notice on the top of the board with my left palm, just to keep it out of the way, and removed the four tacks from the old notice with my right hand, dropping each tack into the cup of my right hand which also pressed against the old notice to keep it up. When I moved to remove the old notice, I squeezed my right hand until two tacks jabbed me.

‘Shit!’

The old notice dropped to the ground as I flung my right hand down, squeezing one tack into my palm to keep it in—at the same time, in shock, I slammed my left palm(which had dropped the new notice) over the message to Gregor I had sticky glued to the board by hiding it behind the old notice. I’d kept Gregor’s notice behind the old notice with a finger and some luck. Just to be clear, on the back of the old notice I shoved in Killroy’s face was the blackmail note for Gregor. I should be a super-spy.

Killroy couldn’t top laughing.

‘Poetry in motion, Archer!’

‘Ha ha.’ I looked at my palm to see the tack jabbed in nice and deep, but really I wanted Killroy to see it. She could stop laughing after all. Curling my left hand fingers around the sticky/stuck note to Gregor, I bit down on the tack, and counted to five. I didn’t look at Killroy, but I knew she looked at me. I yanked the tack out with my teeth, making a show of it, the act causing me to rip my left hand off the board with the note to Gregor, immediately slamming my palm back against the board on the left side of the board, sticking the note to Gregor on nice and good in a new spot, because damn did that hurt.

I shook it off and tacked up the new notice in the spot to replace the old. God help me Killroy looked a little impressed.

‘Evelyn said you were tougher than you looked. Tell ya what, I’m not even gonna whack you for the cursing. How’s that sound?’

‘Like Christmas. In Israel.’ Killroy laughed, sizing me up a second time.

‘Alright you’ve had your freedom of speech. Get going this ain’t Broadway you know.’ I obeyed orders. You know me.

* * *

The Note:

Let’s settle accounts. Do as a man of Free Association would have you do so he’ll go home, and all six shall be rendered to Caesar in the mail. Acknowledge agreement by ordering fifteen minutes extra hot water per girl for one night of showers. We need a wash.

My turn wasn’t over, and now came the tricky part. The trick is to get Free Range Agent Joel Taggart to stick around until we get hot showers, then convince him to ask Matron Gregor, yet again, to change back the essay topic, and not extend any body’s Reformation sentence by signing a binding penalty agreement on all girls who might get another four years (about eight girls)—these two real demands intermixed with a number of petty little demands about our comfort level so as not to draw attention to the respective asses of my crazy friend and Snuggle Bunny Par Excellent.

‘Free Range Agent Joel Taggart?’ Taggart sat in a guest room, looking over pictures of the South Fence. Was everybody in the world fascinated with the South Fence but me? I half expected to find Indiana Jones killing Nazis next horse riding class.

‘Danielle Archer. Should I stand up?’

‘No.’ I entered and closed the door. ‘The thing is this. The third accounts are not a big deal.’ His smile went from a smile to a not smile. I was reminded, at that moment, that the man could snap my neck like it were one of Killroy’s toothpicks. ‘In any case, you’ll never get them, because certain parties have them perfectly well hidden, absolutely, and unassailable, and also perfectly. And I don’t know where. At all.’ OK, I was nervous. ‘I want you to ask Gregor to do a number of things, after she announces an addition of fifteen minutes of hot water for night showers, and I’m pretty sure she’ll obey you. So, you get what you want, and I get what I want, and a lot of girls will be that extra bit clean. Yes, I understand I’m out on a limb, but there I am. So, what do you think?’

He stood up. I think he was only four inches taller than me. Didn’t feel like it at the moment, but it looked like it. I ignored my stomach and stood firm. Very firm. Firm as a leaf in the wind but nailed to the tree, which itself was suffering from severe rot.

‘Archer, this could be serious. Give me those accounts.’ I said nothing. ‘If they are, indeed, not a big deal, then I’ll give them back to you.’ I continued to scream nothing. ‘I rephrase. Give me those accounts, or I’ll make you give me those accounts.’

‘You can’t. Men can’t punish Reformed girls, and you can’t involve Gregor because, you know. Yeah. You’ll get what you want, so don’t be—‘

‘What I want is a certainty that justice is being done here, and I’ll get it, one way or the other. Come with me.’

Rats… well, so be it. I had two angles for two angels, and no big shot toady Fed was going to spoil it. Still… fear. I didn’t really know what he planned. I predicted a few dozen horrible things he could do to me, but I knew Praxis knew a few thousand horrible things. Following him down the halls, ignoring his iron ass, which was iron hard and perfect, I told myself that people in love are imbued with power beyond the body. I had to tell myself something.

He knocked on Snuggle Bunny’s door.

‘Yeah, I’m… Hello, sir.’ Snuggle Bunny wasn’t fully dressed, as she was missing a blouse and vest, though she had her bra on which I knew didn’t belong there and I’d have to accept the dirty duty to rip it off with my teeth after Taggart learned, the hard way, that Danny Archer couldn’t be broken. Again.

My bottom still hurt from Evelyn’s castigation. I inspected my rump in detail the next morning and learned that she was serious about me getting out on time because she really let me have it over that whole breaking and entering the Matron's office lapse in judgment of mine. She always let me have it, but this time she outdid herself--I think she loosened the fillings in my teeth. I had to sit on my legs with my swollen butt pivoted a half-inch above classroom wooden chairs, and I'd have to for a few days more at least. I didn't know if I was kinky. I know I saw her point of view, and I know she did it to get me out. I flirted with the idea of being mad at her for giving me the business, but that was too stupid even for me.

However, other acts were exactly stupid enough for me. My ostentatious bottom was on my mind, I only hoped it wasn’t on Taggart’s mind. Taggart shoved me into Snuggle Bunny’s room and shut the door. Shut and locked, and nevermore.

Taggart pointed as he spoke. ‘You. Take that desk, and place it in the middle of the room. You, place yourself over that desk, with your skirt up and underpants down.’ Underpants? We obeyed. We didn’t look at each other. We made the effort not to look at each other, but habit was our enemy. I leaned over, and Evelyn lifted my skirt and lowered my underpants. It was a loving act, or tell, depending on one’s position.

‘I see. I’ll turn you two against each other to take the advantage. If you force me.’ Taggart paced. ‘Gruber, you have trained in the cane? Hand it over.’ He looked at the devil stick way too long. Not in nostalgia, just to let my own fear build up. And it worked, but not well enough. He handed the savage weapon over to Evelyn, who took it with clinical professionalism.

Taggart put his hands on his knees and his face right in front of mine. His voice was a low husk and calm. ‘Archer, you know you’re going to talk. Sometimes, in the movies, heroes don’t talk. I love movies like that, and I suspect you do too. Myths are what we live by.’ For some reason Evelyn didn’t spank the Fed for ending a sentence with a preposition. Probably had something to do with her instinct for self-preservation. ‘We are guided by stars, but we don't go to them. And a smart girl like you knows stoicism isn’t the way the world works without me telling you. Everybody talks. I’m not a cop, Archer. I deal only with Federal issues, and this school is a Federal issue. I’m not bound by the fine and fair human rights laws of the Republic of Texas, because every action I take is Federal, which is to say, an act of war. Cops can’t torture a person suspected of robbing a bank, or even murder, but war is different. I don’t care that you stole. I don’t care at all. I want to know where the accounts are, because I suspect an act of war. I don’t know your endgame. If you tell me your desires, and they’re not illegal or immoral, I promise you I will do what I can to satisfy them—and I can do a lot. If you force me to use force, I can’t make that promise. Now, tell me.’

‘My bottom is getting cold. Do you know a way to warm it up?’ I did it. I said it calm and cool, without screaming or crying at all. I felt brilliant, I never felt that fantastic before, or thrilled, even under Snuggle Bunny’s touch. I felt like chocolate perfection on Elvis’ guitar.

He turned his back in frustration, which allowed me to crack my calm and cool exterior for a few seconds. I was grateful for that.

With his back to me, he announced “One” in a firm, military voice. My brain was a little confused. Was he going to say, “One, I don’t want to do this; two, you don’t want me to do this, etc”, or was he going to-

CRACK!

Oh by Heavens he means cane stroke one cane please Miss Gruber. Of course. And to think I was proud of my crossword puzzle skills.

“Wow” zinged from ear to ear and back again. It had been a long time since I had the pleasure. That was a lot more painful than I remembered. The worst thing about my brilliant plan was that, after this caning, Snuggle Bunny was going to cane me again for breaking her desk which I now squeezed with the strength of four bears on performance enhancing drugs and half a can of Red Bull.

I had just resumed breathing when I heard “Two” and I screamed ‘Wait!’

Taggart whirled on me. ‘Yes?’

I looked behind me without moving my body. ‘Miss Gruber, I think a fly just landed on my rear end. Would you please shoo it away before giving me the first stroke of the cane?’ I turned to look right into Taggart’s hard face. ‘I love animals.’

He stood up and turned around. ‘Miss Gruber, continue until she talks.’ Good, let’s get it over with.

Each stroke was a flash. It’s hard to report, because my perfect memory wasn’t centered. I didn’t feel myself. I remember a few things. I kept my head forward and my palms on the desk. I trembled with shock after each cut, and I think my eyes flashed a bit. My eyes welled up, but I didn’t feel like crying. I wasn't tough, I just didn't feel like crying. I didn’t feel like I felt when I cried. I kept my wet eyes on the door knob and shook every few seconds. Around eight my head bobbed with each stroke, more from the force than from the pain. Around twelve it didn’t even occur to me that I could stop the strokes. I forgot why they beat me. I felt that it was simply my lot to be hurt and humiliated, spanked again and again, no matter what I thought or did, and thus it would be pointless to feel sorry for myself. My skirt was always up, and I always bent over and took pain instead of taking pain in combat. The whole time I felt obsessed with that door knob, what it opened, where it led, and what kind of world I would enter when everybody stopped hurting me all the time. The confusion burned me. I didn't understand it. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

‘Stop!’

I couldn’t believe I broke!

Then it occurred to me that I didn’t say it. I didn’t break. Confused, by stomach blissfully untwisted, I looked up at the man from Praxis. I think he had said it.

‘You’re really not going to tell me, are you?’

Something missing in me was just installed. I didn’t even know I was missing it, as the loss pained me for so long my body and mind had numbed. He had spoken to me is if I were, truly, an equal human, and not some silly girl in a skirt. I was a silly girl in a skirt with underpants around her ankles, and he was serious and powerful, but that’s not it. It’s that I was also a human, a free one, even if trapped and spanked; free because I was raised that way by my parents, and you can’t talk to such a person like a toddler. Even if she is silly and irresponsible, and always planned to be. I add, by the way, that mission accomplished. I’m still pretty silly and… well, I’ll get to that later.

I couldn’t answer him. I felt I’d choke if I didn’t concentrate on my breathing, which I brought down from long gasps to chest-expanding heavy. I shook my head, scrunching my red and puffy face. I sniffed.

‘Archer, you go ahead with your scheme. I’ll even play along and make your requests to your Matron. Give them to me tomorrow, but not in writing. I’ve searched every room in Southdown and I haven’t found what I’m looking for. But I’m going to find out every single secret this place harbors. You know why?’ I didn’t move, too tired, but he knelt and put his all too serious face into mine. I shook my head. ‘Because they exist, and if something exists, it can be found. Either this one secret is in plain view or there is a space I don’t know about; that doesn’t matter in the end. I’ll find it. Those accounts only describe the secret, be it caloric intake for some diet, stacks of money, or bags of drugs, or racks of guns, or cages full of exotic animals: or any ridiculous nonsense. I. Don’t. Care. That’s either nobody’s business except the owner, or the prosecutor’s job. Something in Southdown is not honest and I’m going to find it. I promise you that. I'm not giving up on that cane. It'll work, you'll talk, in a day or a week. And there are worse things. Now sleep on it, and think nice and hard about how you want me to find out: with or without your help. I have great discretion, and I think you’re a good person, but I’m not God, and the law’s the law.’ Neither one of us moved for a minute, except for me breathing of course. I’m not sure if he breathed everyday. Then he stood up.

‘Miss Gruber, you did very well. It wasn’t a pleasure to put you through it, but it’s my experience that the unpleasant can be profitable if dealt with dignity and patience afterwards.’ Boy, I sure hope that was true, because with my luck I’d get rich.

I heard the door with the knob open, then as they so often do, close. My body suffered the famous runners high. Endorphins they tell me. Well, that’s what Coach tells me after I report a Greek victory at Marathon then collapse dead. Then Coach would explain to my lifeless husk rotting on the grass that God put endorphin glands in us because “The Lord loves a working man!” Whatever. If that were true, the Lord gave us bottoms because “The Lord loves a caning Snuggle Bunny!” Well… Hell, maybe that was true. I did.

Endorphins and feelings of bliss aside, my ass hurt as bad as it ever had, and every muscle in my body felt like I’d been water skiing all day over Niagara Falls. I stood, nice and stiff, and pulled my underpants up, which was a lot more painful than it sounds. I then paced around, like a dummy but with my hands by my sides as I was too chickenshit to begin rubbing. I knew my bottomfat would be better off in the end for me to rub, but those first few seconds would be murder. Then I noticed something missing.

‘Well? Comfort me!’

Evelyn approached, and could it be but by her little Grinch heart she looked meek.

‘I didn’t know… I thought you might be…’

‘Shut up and hug me, stupid.’ She did, and most of the world’s problems disappeared into a memory hole. She rocked me a bit and rubbed my head and hushed me until my wet eyes really did feel like they might cry.

‘You’re going to have to tell me what that was about you know.’

‘I know, I know.’ And then they came. Tears in abundance. ‘I can’t tell you now. I just, I just, I just can’t! I will tell you, and soon. I swear, I promise I will; and if you want to punish me then I wont hold it against you at all. I’ll kiss the brush after. But it isn’t bad. It isn’t… the normal bad things I do. It’s not really bad, I swear, just give me a few days and I’ll explain every… every single stupid thing I’ve ever done and then I can, you can, we can…’

‘Shut up, stupid.’

Evelyn rubbed the bottom I didn’t have the grit to. I tensed and hugged her to cause pain, but she kept on rubbing until the rubbing felt good. Then she kissed my neck until I didn’t care about anything. Boy, I tell yah, she’s a strict one.