[71—Family Time]

Week four was just like week three, except maybe a bit less exciting. 

I lounged about on Sunday morning, not sure whether I should cancel my final SCUBA dives. 

As busy as I'd been that month, I felt like I should do more with my off time than sleep or just hang out, a new skill I was learning with much gusto.

The trick is to do nothing.  It felt wonderful.

The Lunchbox was getting a bit ripe, so rather than clean it, we decided to go into the woods.

I brought along my Grip for music.

At evening muster, sometime in the previous week, the members of 'Troop 420' were taken off and talked to about their unauthorized insignia.  Since then, we had lots of visitors from other squads.

The camp was thick with party commandos—the kind of people who show up to a party asking for favors, with nothing to give—and we had to find innovative ways to dump the ones we didn't like.

I can't say I was much of a partier, but I found I liked hanging with my Odd-fellows.

But we rarely went into the woods without Geyla and Keyla, Chantré, Chibani, at least one other person from Jared's team, and July Lunch.

We walked a tree house that someone had found.  It was well disguised, and gave a commanding view of the terrain.

We shinnied up inside, hauling our ubiquitous supplies up by rope.  I didn't even go to the latrine without an emerg-kit anymore.

The place was abandoned; we checked it for structural stability.

Check.

We spread out our ponchos, soft side up, and immediately three joints were sparked up.

"What'll it be," I asked, looking through my cassettes.  "Doobie brothers and Jackson Browne?"

"Doobies," Geyla yelled and took a hit from two joints at once. 

I popped it and we sat back for a long while, listening to Rock and Roll and degenerating.

When I'd played all my music, I retired to my own corner of the tree house and popped in the tape I'd gotten at mail call.

I'd heard nary a word since Gina's call last week.  I kept expecting another call, but it never came.

I guess I'd hear one way or the other now.

The first message was from Gina.

Dani, it's me, your sis. 

I don't know how, but I managed to talk mother into letting me go.  You were right about giving her an ultimatum, though I was very nervous for a minute after I laid out her choices.

I'm sewing new costumes, of course; I hope we can get it on film, but a good series of stills could enhance our careers greatly if shown in the right venues.

I had to flip a coin with Tammy to see who got to go first.  We both have HUGE news for you.

I will let you get to it, love you Dani.  Thanks for everything.

Wow, what could be as big as going to space?  Tammy's birthday had been last Tuesday, and she was eighteen now.  I wonder if she'd gotten her license yet.

Hey Dani, you know what lesbians do on a third date?

—Tammy

<PRESS ENTER>

One of the cool things about the Grip, and the Nack as well, is that you could set a tape to go directly from text to music, to pictures (if you have the screen), play music, all with special codes that are easy to work with.

I pressed enter.

A picture built up, slowly, of a tiny kitten, held in two pairs of hands, one black, one white.  The white pair was obviously Tammy's.

I've never had a real cat, so I don't know much about them.  This one was so young, she looked malformed.  I knew it was a girl because it was tortoiseshell, but the colors on the image were not good.  I could see she had white tufts on her toes and chin. 

She was precious beyond words.

Adopt a kitten.

Isn't that funny?

I'd never heard Tammy tell lesbian jokes before.  Mary Jane must be rubbing off on her.

I didn't even finish the thought before I was red-cheeked with embarrassment. 

Tammy and Mary Jane? 

No.

The next picture confirmed it.  They were standing together, arms around each other's shoulders and holding the kitten in pocket of their interlaced fingers.  They were giving each other that look.

Anyway, I am surprised as you.  She took me out a few times before my birthday, sometimes with Topher, sometimes not.  She's a smooth operator.

But she was always nice, not like boys our age.

Well, she spoiled me on my birthday, hot oil bath, full body massage, rose petals...I think I'm in love...but it might be heat.  The sex was mindblowing.  I passed out twice. 

We've spent every second we could together this last week, but had to go out sometime.  We saw the kitten and had to adopt her.  Her name is Psy.

"Hey, guys," I called out to the gang, "my best friend just came out.  She's dating my hoyfriend's sister."

"Wo-hoo."  That was Keyla.

"It's serious too," I told her.  "They just had their third date."

"What did they name the kitten?"

Oh no, you didn't.

"How did you know?"

"There's always a kitten, unless they're athletes, and then it's a puppy.  Possibly both."

"Is there some kind of a periodical that I don't subscribe to about all this?"

"There's a whole library of periodicals you don't subscribe to, Dani."

"I mean, do you have a network or something?"

"You mean, like the Yellow Pages?

That was from Lisa Daun, the Odd-squad tranny.  I still didn't know whether heo was a boy or girl, but heo did shave every day.  I'd learned by now that didn't mean anything. 

"No gurl-friend, we all know each other by word-of-mouth."  She turned aside and covered her lips coyly.

"Or is that deed-of-mouth?"

"Wait," Keyla interjected.  "You said hoyfriend.  Is that like boyfriend?  Have you got a squeeze?"

"I think so.  We lived together for a few glorious days before I came here."

"You left glorious for this?"

"I had to Keyla.  I met him too late, after I'd already decided to do this.  I'd wonder the rest of my life if I chickened out and stayed with him."

"So you gotta picture of wonder-boy?"

"Yeah, right here."

"Girlfriend," Chantré said, snatching it out of my hand.  You a coal burner too?"

"Oh, pretty," Keyla mused, "she's got perfect skin."

"Hey," Geyla said when it came to her, "is this a boy or a girl?"

"Neither, Topher is a Rarebit, like me."

"You a rabbit?"

"Rarebit means Rarin-baby.  The drug that caused me to be like I am."

"You mean a psycho freak with a compulsion to show her cooter to the Old Lady?"

"Something like that.  Hit's a wonderful person, and we hit it off."

"Wow.  How old is he...I mean hit?"

"Twenty-three."

"Damn, did your folks wanna kill him?  Mine sure would."

"They emancipated me, and I went to live with him.  But I had to go."

"So," Geyla asked, face aglow with bright-eyed enthusiasm, "What do Rabbits do in bed?"

I looked around, and everybody in the tree house was looking at me, blinking.

"Sleep."

"Cheat," Chantré accused me, "what else?"

"Nothing.  We don't have sex.  Don't make me show you."

"I wonder," she replied sassily, "what you'd do if I called your bluff."

"It's not a bluff," Keyla warned. 

"I know, I was there."

"I'd show you."

She smiled like a fox that owns a chain of henhouses. 

"Or maybe I wouldn't.  You just might get ideas."

"I've already got ideas.  You just don't want me getting them about you."

"Um, yes.  That's exactly accurate."

There was a showdown coming somewhere down the road, but I didn't feel like playing today.

"Sorry, y'all," I told the crowd.  "No sneak peak at the freak geek."