Marie had just finished laying the first of the outfits on the bed
when Eugene came scrambling into the room.  "Ah," he said in confusion.
	"You don't have much time," she warned him, and after a second, he
nodded.
	"What do you want to do first," he asked quickly, "clothes or
makeup?"
	Marie's eyebrows raised at the question, but she answered, "Hair."
He shrugged and sat down at the makeup table.  She picked up the
hairpiece she had selected, and held it up to his hair.  It was a good
match, as she had anticipated, since she'd saved the leavings from the
hairbrush for comparison.
	"What is THAT?" Eugene asked, pointing in the mirror at the fall.
	"It's a hairpiece," she explained, "to give you a nicer hairdo,
since your own hair isn't long enough yet."
	He snorted.  "Not what my girlfriend says," he snapped back.
	"Well, I don't think she would recognize you after this," Marie
replied gently.  All she got was another snort, as he folded his arms
defiantly.

	Tucker wasn't done cursing himself yet as he finished the latest
makeup job.  If he hadn't been so damn clever, or been so damned tired,
he would have stretched out the first one by playing stupid, instead of
jamming it into half an hour.  Now he had to do six by four, and he was
beginning to hurt.  And this wasn't like school, where he could put his
head down and at least close his eyes for a minute.  In fact, he had to
keep them open, because he was jabbing pencils at them every half hour.
     He glared at himself in the mirror, noticing how the red of his
eyes almost matched the lipstick he was wearing.	*Now that's sick,* he
told himself before he could force himself to focus on the image in the
mirror.  *Wait, shithead, you're not wearing lipstick right now.*  He
grabbed some, checked the color on it, and hastily applied it.  *At
least it still had a good edge on it,* he thought as he concentrated on
painting.  Lipstick was much, much harder to keep within the lines if it
was sort of well-rounded.
	He smacked his lips, blotted it out with some tissue, and checked
again.  *Good enough for Deb,* he decided, and got up.
	Everything was going fine as he walked down the hall, even though
he was wearing enough petticoats to choke a horse.  Jane had had to
really search the last couple of times to find things wrong, and they
could both tell that she was reaching.
	Tucker was congratulating himself perhaps a little too much when
his foot plunged through the plane of the floor, and he realized too
late that he was at the top of the stairs.
	"OhSH-" he reflexively yelled as he cranked his body around
frantically to avoid smashing his brain into oblivion on the oak steps.
It worked, sort of - he landed on his side, smashing his torso with
several painful blows at once.  He'd built up a lot of speed in the
short fall, though, and instead of stopping, he slid down the rest of
the way on his stomach, arms wrapped around his head.
	That wouldn't have been so bad, if his swollen nipples hadn't been
exquisitely painful already.	With each step he scraped them firmly over
the edge, with the full weight of his body on them.  His burned leg got
the same treatment a half-step later.  It came too fast and furious for
him to even scream with the pain.
	When he finally reached the bottom and slid to a stop, all he could
do was curl up in a protective ball, much much too late.

	Jane was working on a proposal when she heard an inarticulate
shriek and a series of thuds that sounded like something falling down
the-
	Before she finished the thought, she was out of her chair and
striding quickly out of the parlor.
	When she reached the turn in the hallway that led to the stairs,
she hesitated, because Eugene was curled up on the floor, apparently
asleep.  "Eugene?" she queried.
	He gasped, and tried to turn himself over.  "Ow," he said, quite
clearly, and then began to cry.

	Tucker wiped his eyes, which felt like some sadistic
ophthalmologist had sanded them with steel wool.	Jane had let him take
a few minutes off, which was awfully fucking decent of her considering
he couldn't even walk for several minutes after she found him.  *I
wonder if jail would be worse,* he thought.	*I'd have rights there,
they don't allow cruel and unusual punishment...*
	Tucker thought that scraping his nipples, accidentally or not,
counted as cruel and unusual.

	Marie sighed as she watched Eugene do his makeup for what would be
the last time that day.	Things were definitely not going as planned.
For one thing, he had shown a truly unbelievable facility with the
makeup.  He had claimed it was from painting aircraft models, but she
knew from experience that it was impossible to translate any other skill
into that of putting eyeliner on an eyelid.
	And he was showing no real signs of embarrassment, either.	He
should have been, considering what Jane had selected for his practice
sessions.  It was all of the frilliest variety, and usually in the
hideous colors people put young children in.  Marie was slightly
embarrassed to be pulling them out and directing him to wear them, but
aside from insisting that she turn her back when he was changing, he
showed no real signs of discomfort beyond those of the clothes
themselves.
	And that was beyond unusual.

	Tucker realized he was running late with the last one, since the
damn garters had turned into bungee cords that kept snapping as he tried
to secure them to the stockings.  *Now I know why women switched to
pantyhose,* he fumed, *no matter what Debbie says.  'Sexy' my ass.*
	He ran a quick makeup in the mirror, going lightly for time's sake
until Marie instructed him that he needed more.  He sighed in
desperation, because if he didn't really hustle, he was going to be
late, and there was going to be hell to pay.  So he scrambled through
the full routine, managing to make several mistakes along the way of
course, which cost him even more time.
	Finally, FINALLY he was finished, and, noting that he had
approximately sixty seconds - if the clock was right - before Things Got
Bad, he lept up from the table and scrambled out the door, grabbing the
frame for a ninety degree vector change which left him stumbling but
still moving fast down the hallway.  Speed was everything, right now...
	He found the stairs this time, aided by the fact that he wasn't
wearing enough petticoats to make his legs invisible, and pounded down
them, skidding a little bit as he made the turn towards the parlor.
	At that moment, someone rang the doorbell.
	Tucker turned sideways to glance at the door, and immediately
realized he'd made a mistake, because the damned spike heels had
absolutely no traction at all, especially on hardwood floors.
	He skipped and hopped in desperation, but it was too late and he
had too large a vector going in just the wrong direction to be able to
miss the wall.
	He expected the resounding 'THUD' when he body-checked into the
wall - it sounded like it shook the house - but as he clung to it for
support, the sound of crashing glass scared the hell out of him, which
in combination with the fresh assault on his swollen chest caused him to
let go, which caused him to fall gracelessly on his rump.  Tucker sat on
the floor, waiting for the world to un-whiteout and for his body to stop
bouncing before he started screaming.
	The doorbell rang again.
	"Right!" he snapped to himself, and scrambled upright by the
expedient of rolling over, planting his hands on the floor, and walking
up them until he was almost upright.  He ran into the other wall before
he could completely get it, but he barely noticed at this point.  "Door,
get the door, get the door," he unconsciously chanted to himself as he
staggered in the general direction of the light.
	A few seconds later, he was blinking at a man in a suit and tie.
*Don't scream,* he told himself.  "Hi," he breathed, "can I help you?"
	"Ah, yes," said the man, smiling, "I'm here to see Jane Thompson,
is she in?"
	"Wh- oh, yes, I think she is sir, if you'd like to come in?"
Tucker managed to remember which way to push the door to make it open,
and grabbed on to it gracelessly as the hallway did a slow roll and the
man walked in, ignoring the shifting gravitational fields.
	"And you are?" the man asked, smiling directly at him.
	*'M in a dress, must be Valerie today.*  "Valerie," he answered,
and smiled like the girls had taught him.
	The man smiled and shook his hand gently.  "I'm Bob," he said, and
Tucker nodded, still smiling.
	"Hi, Bob," Tucker replied, and woozed on the door until he noticed
the man was completely inside, and managed to shut the door without
falling a third time.
	"Jane!" the man called as Tucker was staring at the door locks
wondering which, if any, he should latch.  "Good to see you again!"
	*Oh, shit,* he thought, and turned around.  Jane had an expression
on her face he was all too familiar with.  "Can you explain this
painting?" she asked, pointing directly at Tucker.
	"Uh, you mean you didn't feel the earthquake?" he tried,
straightening up at the same time.  Unfortunately, the combination of
spike heels plus the multiple impacts he'd sustained left him
momentarily unable to stand upright without support.

	Jane watched as the boy staggered, then flailed wildly as he spun
around, pumps skittering, and sat straight down on his rear end.
"Aaaugh!" he shrieked when he landed, and immediately rolled over on his
side, back arched, and clutching the bottom of his spine.  "Oh, SHIT!"
he wailed, writhing in apparent agony.	Jane immediately surmised that
Eugene had sat down too hard on his coccyx.
	As Bob ran to help the boy, he looked up and moaned, "I am not
having a good day..." before breaking into sobbing.

	Tucker didn't know whether to scream or pass out as 'Bob' put his
arms underneath and hoisted him up like Travis had done.  He settled for
grabbing on to the guy's neck and promising himself that he would rip
his throat out if the guy dropped him.
	He was almost expecting it when the guy tried to scrape his ankles
off with a door frame.  Not that it hurt any less.

	Jane watched as Bob lowered the exquisitely pretty boy to the seat
of the couch.	She sighed.  *I can't believe he's been here less than
forty-eight hours,* she thought.  *And already he's turned everything
upside down...*
	Bob, in an attempt to lighten Eugene's mood, said in a teasing
tone, "Well, I guess you're not used to wearing heels yet, huh?"
	Eugene's head snapped up, rage blazing in his eyes, and snapped
back, "Maybe you ought to try it sometime!"
	"Aaaht!" Jane admonished, not able to use Eugene's name in front of
Bob.  If things had gone to plan, Charlene would already have christened
him with a name of her devising, but that had gone out the window too.
	Bob held up his hand to Jane, irritating her further.	"It's
alright, Jane," he said in a deliberately calming tone she hated, "I'm
sure Valerie's just shaken up by her fall."
	*Valerie?*

	Tucker froze as he saw Jane go rigid.  *Ohhhhh, shit.*  Kicking the
shoes off as a precaution, he pushed himself upright.	"Um, may I be
excused, please Jane?"
	At her tight-lipped nod, he squatted to retrieve the shoes and beat
feet out of there as quickly and unobtrusively as he could manage.

	Charlie had heard the thuds - they rattled the house - and was
looking around, wondering what the hell was going on, when he saw Eugene
staggering along, holding his shoes in one hand and running the other
along the wall.  "What's going on?" he asked.
	Eugene glared up at him, and Charlie could see the reddened eyes
that spoke of too much eye makeup practice in one day.  Or of crying.
Charlie had done both here.  Eugene replied, "Life just sucks sometimes,
ya know?	Mine is being particularly sucky today, and I am just fucking
tired of it."
	"You'd better not let Jane hear you talk like that," Charlie
warned.  Jane was death on bad language, as he'd found out already.

	Tucker stared up at the bimbo on the stairs, seeing entirely too
close a resemblance to his sister at that particular moment.  He fought
the urge to chunk one of the shoes at her, instead just lowering his
head and concentrating on climbing the stairs.

	Marie paused in her trip to the parlor.  There was a picture on the
floor, and glass shattered outward from it like an impact crater.
	She didn't know how it happened, but she had a feeling Eugene was
in the middle of it.  Somehow.

	Tucker staggered to the bed and slowly, gently, lowered himself
onto it, gasping as one move or another pulled on some damaged part of
his body.  There were a lot of damaged parts today.
	When he had finally achieved horizontality, he pulled the comforter
over himself and was asleep in less than thirty seconds.

	Tucker was glad his parents had found a place for him where the
cops wouldn't be able to find him, but he wished they had checked it out
a little more thoroughly.  An alien crashed out of the wall next to him,
again, and he shot it to pieces, but another one grabbed him from behind
and shook him loose from the rifle, and then he was being carried into
the queen's chamber, but instead of sticking a facehugger on him, they
were just beating him and beating him, the thuds of their blows sounding
like-
	Like someone knocking.  "Wha?!" he gasped in a panic, sitting bolt
upright and regretting it as his body protested.
	"Eugene?" called Marie's voice.  "Dinner will be ready in half an
hour.  Jane would like you to be ready."
	"Wha, uh."  He cleared his throat.  "Yeah, okay, half an hour."  He
heard her footsteps on the hall floor walking away.

	Charlie had served tea for Jane and her guest, whoever he was.  He
knew enough, though, to be worried.  Every time Jane had guests,
something bad happened to him.  Something to further humiliate him or
embarrass him, something to take him just another hair closer to
exposure and utter humiliation.
	So he was not happy.
	At least Jane had said he could swim in the pool after tea was
finished.  It meant that Charlie had to wear a girl's suit, of course -
of fucking course - but at least he could burn out his rage and fear on
the water's resistance and not get in trouble for it.
	He was resting, treading water, when Marie called to him.  He
turned to look, and she was standing just inside the French doors.
"Charlene, dinner will be ready in half an hour."
	"Thank you," Charlie said, grateful for the warning.  Jane did not
like to be kept waiting.
	As Marie shut the doors again, Charlene swam over to the steps and
climbed out, water cascading out of his hair and off his body.  He shook
his head gently, a trick he'd learned to get most of the water out, and
got the towel to dry himself off.

	As Tucker finished drawing the 'tattoo' on his arm with makeup
pencils - nice of them to leave him a full palette, he'd thought - the
dream he'd had kept coming back to him.   It wasn't the metaphors that
bothered him; they made perfect sense, and it was the last damn time
he'd let Mike talk him into watching anything like a horror movie before
going on a trip again, that was for certain.  Much less all three of
them.
	He was just tired of fighting the damn things.

	"I think the dance would be perfect," Jane remarked as she sipped a
brandy.  "This one is proving more of a challenge that I had thought."
	"What?" Bob laughed.  "The great Jane Thompson, bested by a
stripling?"
	"Oh, hardly bested," Jane replied casually, though her eyes flashed
warning at him.  "He's merely stronger than I had anticipated."
	Bob shrugged and shifted on the couch.	"He does seem to be picking
it up quickly enough..."
	"Too quickly."  She mused on the possible reasons why.
	After a moment, Bob suggested, "Perhaps he's one of those rare ones
that enjoys it before they get here?"
	"A transvestite?"  Jane thought about it for a moment.  "I think
not.  I had one, a time ago, and if anything, he was more aroused than
usual.  This one is less aroused.	In every sense of the word.  He
doesn't, doesn't seem to care, somehow."
	"Perhaps he just has a greater-than-usual sense of masculinity for
his age?"
	"He's only fourteen," Jane replied.
	Bob insisted, "Still, there's always an exception.  If he's been
that feminine all his life, he's had to learn some self-ego somewhere
that doesn't depend on outside acceptance."
	"But usually those are the ones that are most humiliated.  Their
worst fears come to pass, as it were."
	Bob shrugged.	"Then I have no idea."  They both sipped at their
drinks, before Bob spoke up again.  "So why didn't you call me, if you
wanted me to come later?"
	"Because," Jane snapped, "the phones haven't been working since
this weekend!"
	"Have you-" Bob started to say before the phone rang.
	And rang again.
	It failed to burst into flames under the heat of Jane's glare, but
it wasn't for want of effort.

	Tucker came downstairs just behind Charlene.  He had to admit, she
had a trim ass, as he watched it sway back and forth.	Too bad for her
that he preferred a little more flesh on his women.
	Longing for Debbie bit him so deeply that he had to stop on the
stairs and hug himself.	*This would be so much easier,* he thought
sadly, *if she was here, with me.*

	Bob had gone to wash up, giving Jane the opportunity to catch
Eugene, or 'Valerie' as he had named himself, before he went into the
dining room.  "Eugene?" she called softly.
	He stopped and turned around stiffly.  "Yes ma'am?"
	"The gentleman you met earlier will be staying for dinner.  I
expect you to be perfectly mannered at dinner, do you understand?"
	He nodded.  "Yes ma'am."
	"Now," she said musingly, "there is just the matter of what to call
you, since 'Eugene' simply will not do."
	His mouth had slipped open.  Finally, he said, "Um, well, there was
this girl back in fourth grade, she looked a lot like me, and the kids
used to call me 'Valerie' and her 'Eugene' to get at us both.  So, I,
uh, I'm kinda used to it by now."
	"I see," Jane replied.

	*I hope she bought it,* Tucker wished as he stared at her face.

	*What a load of fertilizer!* Jane thought.  *Does he really expect
me to believe that?*
	"Well," she said, not letting any of the skepticism she felt color
her voice, "come in and wait to be seated."
	"Yes ma'am," he replied, and followed her into the dining room.
	It wasn't until Jane had sat down and was being pushed towards the
table that she noticed that a tattoo of what looked like a ball with
arms and a most defiant expression had appeared on Eugene's arm since
this afternoon.  "What is THAT?" she demanded, pointing.
	Eugene, or Valerie as she would have to begin thinking of him,
looked up and assumed an innocent expression.  "What's what, Jane?"
	"That... drawing on your arm," she said slowly through gritted
teeth.
	"Oh, this?  It's the laughing planet, from _The Hitchhiker's Guide
To The Galaxy_.  I'm surprised you didn't recognize it."  His blue eyes
stared at her without a hint of duplicity.
	Jane took a deep breath, slowly let it out through her nose.  "You
may return upstairs and remove it."  When he started to say something,
she snarled, "NOW."
	Without a further word, he removed his napkin from his lap, stood
up, and left.
     Her effort to cool her temper was not helped in the least by the
smirk she could see beneath Bob's tanned face.

	"Heheheheheheheh," Tucker chortled to himself all the way up the
stairs and into his room.  *Probably a bad idea to piss her off at
dinner, but-*	He hissed as he mistakenly tried to sit down.
	Still, it was worth it.

	Jane had toyed with the idea of denying Valerie supper, but the
realization that she had missed both lunch and tea stayed her hand.
Besides, it would be best for her training if she was present for the
conversation.	Bob was a master of the embarrassing compliment.
	Unfortunately, Valerie seemed to be his equal at accepting the
embarrassing compliments.  Statements that would normally have had one
of her students cringing in shame just made Valerie smile.	She even
managed to flirt lightly with Bob at dinner, to the amazement of all.
Especially Charlene.  The way the older student kept gawking at Valerie
was something to behold, and almost assuaged Jane's irritation at being
upstaged once again.
	Almost.

	When it looked as though the after-dinner conversation was going to
continue well after supper was finished, Tucker decided he'd better do
something before he passed out.
	Addressing Jane, he curtsied to her and said in the most feminine
voice he could manage, "Please, ma'am, may I be excused?  It's been a
very long and trying day, please ma'am."  And he curtsied again for good
measure.
	Jane stared at him a long time, and he started to redden under her
gaze, when she finally said yes.  Tucker bobbed once again and left as
quickly as he could manage.

	One almost boiling shower and two more aspirin later, Tucker
crawled into bed, sans makeup and clothes, wrapped himself up securely
in the comforter, and almost passed out before remembering to set the
alarm for two in the morning.  He had things to do which were best done
in the dark.

	The self-destruct was warning him he had three minutes to make it
to the shuttlecraft except his damn heel was caught in the deck plating
and there was no way he could make it in time and then he heard it jump
into the beeping that signalled imminent destruction and-
	And he sat up with a gasp and a pounding heart.  "Shit," he panted,
"shit shit shit shit...."  A frantic search for the alarm shutoff ended
when he simply slammed his fist down and hit the right button somehow.
	"Gahhhhhhh," he breathed as he wiped sweat off his brow.
*Should've gotten some of those Valiums from Lisa before I left.*  They
had the nice side effect of wiping out his REM sleep.
	When he'd recovered from his nap and his breathing had slowed to
normal, he slid out of bed and got the laptop from its hiding place.	He
reached under the center drawer of the makeup table and retrieved the
room key, replacing the tape for later use.	*Hmmm, what else....
lockpicks.*  He wasn't as good as George - Tucker wondered if ANYone was
as good as George - but he was good enough if he had time.	The picks
had to be dug out of the chest of drawers, which took several minutes to
do quietly.
	*And now, off to make contact.*  He loaded everything up, making
sure that none of it jingled, and gently opened the lock with the key.
*Stage two successful, now for stage three - sneaking to the target.*
The target being Jane's parlor, of course, since that had the phone in
it.

	Tucker had gotten a little more caught up in talking to Mike than
he'd thought, because the first notice he had that someone else in the
household was awake was the sound of a coffeepot starting to brew.
	"Ohsh-" he whispered.  He typed in a frantic logoff message and
scrambled to the wall socket to disconnect his lifeline (as he thought
of it) and rolled it up and stashed it on top of the laptop in the case,
and zipped the whole thing up.  *Key,* he thought, and rummaged in his
bra until he found it again.	*Phone,* and he plugged the phone back
into the wall socket.  *Okay, time to be subtle...*
	It was way too light for his tastes in the hallway, but at least
Jane didn't lock her parlor, so he wouldn't have to try and pick it
shut.  "All" he had to do was sneak past an unknown awake person,
perhaps two, and though a creaky wooden house that was too well lit by
the rising sun, up a flight of stairs and back to his room and lock
himself in.
	*Sure, no problem,* he told himself.  *Haha.*

	Charlie yawned as he shut off the alarm, and slowly levered himself
upright.	*Oh, man,* he thought as the silken gown rubbed against his
morning hard-on.  *This is so damned freaky... sitting here in girl's
clothes with a boner.*  Life had been pretty weird lately anyway, at
Jane's, and this new kid was something else.
	And if he didn't get a move on, he was going to have to miss
breakfast.  With that, he slid out of bed, moaning softly at the
friction of the mylon on his genitals.

	Tucker froze at the sound from Charlene's room, then grinned to
himself.	*Wonder if she's _lonely_,* he thought.  The sound of running
water that followed provided enough sonic cover for him to unlock the
door and slip back inside his room.
	*Shit,* he thought as the sight of the bed made him remember how
tired he was.	*All I wanna do is lay down... doesn't Jane know that
nerds are nocturnal?*  The answer, obviously, was either 'No' or 'I
don't care', so it was up to Tucker to make sure he stayed awake for the
morning's festivities.  *Three Vives ought to do it for a while,* he
thought with a weary grin.  *Three more....*

	Jane was proceeding downstairs for some coffee and pastries, all
they would have time for this morning.	As she approached the students'
rooms, though, she heard Valerie singing in the shower again.  This
time, though, it sounded harsher, angrier...
	As she got closer, she could make out the words.	"I am the bullet
in the gun," Valerie screeched, "and I control youuuuu.... I am the
truth from which you run and I control youuuuu.... I am the silencing
machine and I control youuuuu.... I am the end of all your dreams."
	*What a twisted song!* Jane thought with dismay.	The words
conjured up images of children on the streets with needles in their arms
and dead gazes-
	"I'll take you where you want to go!" Valerie screamed at the top
of her lungs.	"I'll give you all you need to know!  I'll drag you down
I'll use you up!  AAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAhhhhh, mister self-destruct!"
	Jane had known there were problems, but she hadn't known they
extended this far.

	"How's he doing?" Debbie asked.  *How about 'Good morning, how are
you Mike,' something...* he thought with irritation.  *Is that all I am
to her, a telegraph office for her boyfriend?*
	"He said," Mike said slowly, "that things were kind of weird, but
he was okay, and to hold off sending the break-out kit."  Though he had
given the post office name that Mike should send it to, for pickup.
Mike had been sort of annoyed when Tuck had said to send it in Valerie's
name, but it made sense.  "Change your profile," said everything the two
of them had ever read on disguise, and it didn't get more changed than
turning into a girl when your pursuers expected a guy.
	"But he's okay, right?" she confirmed.
	"Yeah, that's what he said."
	"But he said it was weird?"
	Mike sighed.  "He wouldn't tell me HOW it was weird, Deb, so don't
even ask.  I tried for twenty minutes.	All I know is, he's saying he's
gonna see if it gets any worse, and he might just make it for the six
weeks."
	There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Debbie
finally exclaimed, "Wow."

	Tucker turned off the water, feeling 'better' already as the warm
shower plus an overdose of caffeine plus Nine Inch Nails at the top of
his lungs compensated for the lack of sleep.  Of course, his body was
beginning to turn purple and red and yellow from everything he'd been
through yesterday, and it hurt worse than it looked, so far.  "Ugh,"
he'd said when he saw himself in the mirror.
	He wrapped a towel around his hair and another around his body and
stepped outside, wincing as the cold, dry, painful air sliced up his
nose and clawed at his body.	"Makeup first, I guess," he said,
wandering over to the table.	"Wonder if I'm supposed to get dressed or
what?"  Tucker figured he might as well.

	Charlie proceeded downstairs in a gown and robe, with the light
makeup that Jane preferred in the morning.  *Man oh man, can't wait for
that coffee,* he thought.
	The table was fairly quiet, as it usually was in the morning.
Eugene hadn't made it down yet, but it had sounded like he was taking a
shower, so Charlie wasn't worried.
	Not like what the dork did worried him.
	At least, not until Eugene - *Valerie,* he corrected himself as he
stared - came literally skipping into the dining room.  "Gooood morning,
ladies!" he sang as he practically jumped into his seat, dropping a
small purse beside his chair.  Everyone, including Marie, stopped and
looked at him.

	*Maybe I overdid it a little on the Vives this morning,* Tucker
thought as they continued to stare.

	Jane felt as though she had fallen into a deep pool of quicksand
without realizing it.  *This one is going to be tougher than I had
thought.*
	"Well," she said, not wanting to appear as out of control as she
felt, "Valerie, I have a special day planned for you.  Since you are
already dressed, you won't need to change."  This annoyed her also.  He
had - somehow - picked out the very things that she was going to make
him wear today, without any help.	*Could he be psychic?* she wondered
idly.  An explanation, however, presented itself even as she was
rejecting the errant thought.  *Of course!  He merely picked out the
dress that was first on the closet rack.  Which happens to be where
Marie tends to put the special selections so she can find them easily.*
She almost smiled to herself at the simplicity of the solution.
	"'Sup?" the winsome lad asked as he reached for the croissants.
	"You'll see," she said gently, adding a mysterious smile to her
face.  Her eyes glanced to the wall clock, since they had an 8:30
appointment to keep.

	Tucker suppressed a pang of fear at her words.  *Ohhhh, damnit.
Wonder what the old witch is plotting today?*  To hide his reaction, he
smiled at them and buttered a croissant.

	Charlie had felt the strain between the two of them all throughout
breakfast.  Jane had kept up her usual small corrections, which the both
of them dutifully accepted, but it was clear that there was a battle of
wills going on in the little glances and smiles the two of them kept
exchanging.
	*This is weird,* he admitted as a chill rushed down his back.  *I
mean, it's like he - she - has more of a handle on things than _she_
ought to... and Jane didn't know it.*  Jane had certainly figured out,
or known already, exactly which buttons to push with her program to turn
Charlie into a sniveling lapdog.
	But Eugene - _Valerie_ - was another story.	The first day Charlie
had been here, it had been a nightmare, and he was so confused, he
didn't know what was happening to him.  Jane, he had figured out much
later, had counted on that, and had kept him off-balance until she had
her hooks firmly set in his flesh and his soul.
	*Let's not forget the pictures, either,* his mind reminded him.
	But this one, he kept rolling with things, as if it really didn't
matter to him that Jane was setting him up for some of the most
humiliating things Charlie had ever experienced.	He kept fighting,
going sideways and defying Jane in ways she had never expected, going
along when she was watching him... but there had been this sense of
"Well, do what you wanna do, I'm gonna win this eventually."
	And that was completely impossible.

	Tucker found that the psychic fencing with Jane was remarkably like
he had experienced with his sister on occasion, when they both had
blackmail material on each other.	Jane had something in mind, it was
clear, but HE had resources she didn't know about, as well as a good
idea of how to handle things that he really shouldn't have.
	Plus an ATM card strapped to his inner thigh.  That was power in
today's world, if he could get away long enough to use it.  And even a
few extra goodies stowed away.  *The kind of things every girl should
have in her purse,* he thought.  And since Jane hadn't shown any signs
that she was into handcuffs - *Yet,* he reminded himself - then it would
simply be a matter of deciding the right space-time coordinate and
bailing out.
	There was the matter of a Libretto, though.
	Tucker sighed at the internal dilemna.	*To bail or not to bail,
that is the question.  Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and
arrows of fortune, or...  Damn.  Whatever comes next.*

	Jane finished breakfast, patted her lips clean, and spoke.
"Charlene, it's time for you to go and get ready.  Wear something
simple, and go lightly on the makeup."
	"Yes ma'am," Charlene replied as she got up from the table.
	"Valerie," Jane said, "since you are already dressed and made up,
you may wait in the parlor for the rest of us.  Don't go anywhere else,
is that understood?"
	"Yes ma'am," said the boy-girl still sitting at the table.  "May I
ask where we're going, ma'am?"
	Jane smiled.  "No."  She could see that the answer, or lack of one,
had frustrated him as she got up from the table and went to get ready
herself.	*I think the key to this one is to take things faster, keep
him off balance,* she mused.	*That should provide enough distraction to
make her tractable.*

	Tucker was getting up, preparing to go sit and wait - *The essence
of camp life,* he thought with an ironic grin - when Marie came out to
clear away the dishes.  Reflexively, Tucker started picking up plates.
	"No, no, I can do it," Marie said, surprised.
	Tucker smiled at her.  "No problem, Marie.  Besides, it'll get done
faster if I help."  With that, he carried the load of plates and
silverware into the kitchen.

	When Jane came down the stairs and into the parlor, Valerie was not
waiting as she had been directed.	Jane was beginning to expect this.
But not like it.  She took a deep breath, then called out, "Valerie!
VALERIE!"
	Far too many seconds later, Valerie appeared from the direction of
the dining room.  "Hi Jane," she said, sounding slightly out of breath,
and dripping - was that _dishwashing soap_?
	"Didn't I tell you to wait in here?" Jane said incredulously.
	"Well, I mean," Valerie turned to point in the direction from which
she had come, "Marie was gonna have to clear the table all by herself,
so I helped her out, and then we started rinsing stuff off, and then I
knocked the detergent into the sink so I figured I might as well start
washing-"
	"Enough."  Good Lord, she was already getting a headache, and it
wasn't even quite eight o'clock yet.  "Just.... just sit down, please."
Valerie did so, fluffing her skirt out as she did.
	Jane sighed, then went to the desk in the parlor and got two
aspirin out of the center drawer and her coffee cup from early this
morning.	*Idiot Germans,* she thought as she swallowed the pills and
grimaced at the cold coffee.	*I hate getting up at six to talk to them,
no matter how profitable it is.  It's uncivilized.*

	Charlie had a good idea of where they were going, from the
directions Jane had given her on dress and makeup, and the drive there
confirmed it.	She knew this route only too well.

	Tucker stared out the windows, tapping familiar drum rhythms on his
legs to help keep him awake.
	The dress would prove a significant problem if he made a run for it
today, but there was always tomorrow if today wasn't too bad, and
getting a tour of the local terrain and "ecology" in a car was pretty
good.  Though of course he couldn't ask Jane to swing by the local bus
station to see where it was.	He'd seen a couple of interesting shops
anyway, on the trip.
	And, since he'd been allowed to dress himself this morning, he'd
prepared himself for the off chance he would get a chance to change.	If
he had to take off.
	Jane hadn't found the extra items in the purse, either.  Tucker had
to conceal a grin as he thought about it.  *Amateur,* he thought smugly.
	They pulled into a mall parking lot, and Tucker sighed.  *I should
have known... what is it about women and malls?*	Not that he hadn't
spent his share of time in malls with Mike and George and Dan, but that
was either in the arcade, or in one of the seating areas staring at the
people, or trying to figure out how best to break into the place.
	*Practice makes perfect,* he thought as he grinned to himself,
thinking of the key he'd made, and how easily the house and the rest of
the "security" was slowly dissolving as he analyzed it.  The only thing
that really sucked was the distance from Jane's camp de femme to
civilization.	Still, that just meant a hike.
	*No sweat,* he thought.

	Charlie felt slightly sick to his stomach as they pulled up close
to the entrance to Marisha Chalet.  Although he'd been here enough times
already, and knew that he was relatively safe here, he still hated being
there, sucked into the stinks of women's haircare.
	And boy, did it stink.  He hated being blond anyway, and hated it
even more because it required touch-ups every two weeks.  He'd argued
with Jane that letting the roots grow in for an extra week or two would
match what other girls did better, but all he'd gotten for that was
being stuck back in little girl's clothes for two days.
	He sighed, and tried to guess the number of days left before he
got out of here and could shave his head completely bald.

	Jane parked the car and beckoned the two beautiful young "ladies"
out of the car.  Charlene, knowing what was coming, was less than
enthusiastic about getting out.  Valerie displayed that same irritating
lack of fear and popped out like a jack-in-the-box.  She took a deep
breath, swinging her arms, and let it out with a happy gush.  "Ahh, the
smell of the city," she remarked to Jane, smiling.  "I love it."
	"Shut up," snarled Charlene, giving Valerie a dirty look.
	"Well, did we have a bad night?" Valerie cooed in a sickeningly
sweet trill.  "Hair get all tangled or what?"
	"Girls!" Jane snapped before Charlene could reply.  "We have an
early appointment.	Come along."  With that, she strode forth, but kept
an eye on the two of them in the reflection from her sunglasses.
	Valerie, amazingly, started singing in a quiet, high voice.

	Charlie was pissed enough already, since Jane seemed to be taking
the little fuck's side of things.  But when Valerie started singing,
"I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie wooooorld... life in plastic, it's
fantastic..."
	Charlie forgot about girl's clothes, decorum, manners, and even
Jane as his rage rose up.
	*That little fuck is gonna pay!* he snarled.

	Tucker knew he'd triggered Charlene when he saw her lunge.  *Too
bad,* he grinned as he stepped quickly out of the way.  "Hah, loser!" he
taunted as Charlene stumbled past.
	She swung upright again, and Tucker saw the look in her eyes.  *Uh
oh, time to beat feet!*	She would probably strangle him if she caught
him.
	On the other hand, it was just under a year ago since his sister
had left, and they'd warred exactly like this until the day she left for
college, when his father had taken him aside and told him in no
uncertain terms what would happen to him if he didn't give the rest of
them some peace and quiet.  So he was still in shape for just this sort
of thing.
	And he hadn't picked flats this morning because they were cute.

	Jane swirled around and opened her mouth to try and control the two
of them verbally, when Valerie brushed past her and accelerated,
followed closely by a howling Charlene.  "Woohoo!  Woohoo!" shrieked
Valerie, her voice rising clearly above Charlene's inarticulate howling.
Just like Daffy Duck, part of her noted.

	Tucker made it inside the closest door, glad like hell it was open
because Charlene would have undoubtedly started pounding the hell out of
him if he'd slowed down even the littlist bit.
	Unfortunately for her, he hadn't, and the door WAS open, and so
Tucker dashed through it and slammed his weight against it from the
inside.
	It was then that he noticed what door he'd unwittingly come in.
*Hair salon,* he instantly identified from the smell.
	And everyone was looking at him.
	"Hi," he ventured.  "Is there a coke machine around here?"
	Charlene could be heard outside, pounding on the door and cursing.
	Everyone stared.
	The pounding and cursing stopped, followed by a faint but clear
Jane commanding, "Valerie, let go of this door instantly!"

	Caroline came out of her office at the noise, and was a little
amused, and a little astonished, to see (and hear) Jane yelling at both
her charges.  She recognized Charlene, of course, having seen her
biweekly for several months, but the new one had identical folded arms
and the identical sullen expression on his face.
	Sandy came over and whispered a synopsis into Caroline's ear as
Jane wound down.  Caro fought to keep a grin off her face as Jane
finished with one imperious gesture and stalked over to the two of them.

	Tucker came back to the world when the relative silence told him
that Jane had finished.	"Yes ma'am," he echoed Charlene.  When Jane
turned away, he stuck his tongue out at Charlene, hoping she would slug
him.  She didn't, which was rather disappointing.  Tucker shrugged and
settled down in the chair.
	It wasn't too long before someone came over and said, "Hello, I'm
Caroline.  Sandra will be taking care of you today, Valerie, and I'll be
working on you as usual, Charlene."  Tucker shrugged and got up,
staggering a little bit, and followed the short-haired woman to a salon
sink.  Another woman, this one much younger, directed Tucker to lay back
in the chair for a shampoo.
	The warm water, and the hands running through his hair, were
terribly soothing...

	"Excuse me?"
	Tucker opened his eyes, and wondered who the girl standing over
him was.	"Huh?"
	"You're finished with the shampoo, and Sandy's ready for you," she
said.
	Tucker blinked a couple of times, and tasted his lipstick before he
had some idea of what was going on.  "Uh.  Okay..."  He got up, still
blinking, and followed the girl over to a cutting station.	The woman in
front of him looked vaguely familiar as she directed him to sit in the
chair.
	"You're not going to cut much, are you?" Tucker asked as he was
sitting down.
	"Oh, no," she smiled, showing her teeth, "just a little trim to
even it out, remove split ends, that sort of thing."
	"Oh, good," said Tucker, relieved.  He'd had visions of coming out
of here with a boot camp buzz.
	The woman, whose name he recalled he'd been told but had forgotten
already, didn't seem like she wanted to talk, so Tucker let her go to,
watching her in the mirror to make sure she didn't take too much off.
The cut took about twenty minutes, and she didn't take more than a half
inch off anywhere, judging by what he could see, and the cut bits on the
floor.
	Tucker was getting droopy-eyed again when she whisked the sheet off
him, waking him up.  "That was quick," he said conversationally, and
smiled at her.
	"You're not done yet," she replied, and led him over to another
station.	He'd smoothed his skirt and sat down before he realized that
the rollers and excessive number of bottles meant he was in for either a
perm or a color job.
	"Uh, wait a minute, what're you doing?" he asked.
	She turned to face him directly, for the first time, and grinned
again.  "Oh, my little sissy," she said softly, "we are going to make
you look SO gorgeous!"
	"What?"  He wasn't sure he'd heard her right.  "What did you call
me?"
	"Oh, well, you ARE Jane's latest project, aren't you?" she asked,
sounding like she already knew the answer.
	Tucker frowned, realizing that Jane must've blown his cover for
some reason known only to herself.  *On the other hand,* he thought,
*she's keeping her voice down, so I guess it's safe.*  "I guess you
could say that," he replied neutrally.
	"Well, my darling," she drawled, venom spattering the ground, "you
are going to leave here the most beautiful little bubble-headed blond-"

	Jane was just beginning to relax under a hair dryer.  The two boys
were in good hands, she knew, and she could let someone else take over
for just a little-
	Valerie shrieked (and Jane realized later that it was uncanny how
she already knew it was Valerie, from the first syllable) "The FUCK you
are!"  Jane turned her head in time to see her latest boy-girl push out
of the chair and stand indignantly facing Sandy, shrieking "If YOU think
I'm gonna walk out of here looking like a clone of BARBIE over there,"
as she gesticulated wildly in Charlene's general direction, "you are SO
full of SHIT it'll turn YOUR hair brown!"

	Tucker had more than one reason for throwing a fit.  For one thing,
he had serious reservations about letting a small-town salon color his
hair; he was firmly convinced that his hair would not only be a
ridiculous shade of yellow - not blond, YELLOW - but it would fry
everything he'd grown so far, and Debbie would give him complete hell
about it until he could grow it out again.
	The other reason was that there was a blond wig and a bit of
peroxide (for his eyebrows) hidden away in his room, in case he had to
bail and needed to use a disguise, and its effectiveness in changing his
profile would be reduced to nothing if he was a blond already.

	Charlie smirked as Caro mumbled something and got up to go deal
with Valerie.	He could hear Jane's low but sharp-sounding commands
alternating with Valerie's already girl-like screech spitting out the
most outrageous things.
	"If YOU think I'm gonna stand for THAT," his fellow prisoner
screamed at the top of his lungs at one point, "your little pea-brain is
SO far outta the real world that God himSELF couldn't find it with a
RADIO TELESCOPE!"

	Tucker was rather proud of that one; if Jane didn't recognize the
Hitchhiker's symbol, he sincerely doubted she would catch THAT
reference.

	Charlie was a little disappointed that the show was over so soon.
It almost seemed for a while as if Valerie, all on her own, was going to
defy the combined force of Jane, Caro AND Sandy.
	Unfortunately, another voice had interrupted, and there was a
relatively quiet discussion for a few minutes, and then everything got
quiet and Caroline came back, shaking her head.
	He opened his mouth to ask a question, and Caroline snapped at him
in so firm a tone he didn't dare disobey, "Don't YOU even THINK about
starting!"

	Tucker was congratulating himself on getting his way, sort of.  On
the other hand, they were going to turn his hair red instead.  *Debbie's
gonna kill me,* he thought to himself angrily, *and all because these
stupid bitches can't leave well enough alone!*
	He was brooding a little too much to notice what Sandy was doing
until she slapped the velcro cuffs around his wrists.
	"What the-"
	"Keep your mouth SHUT this time, fag-boy, or everyone in this store
will know what you are!" she hissed at him.
	Tuck was astonished.  Then he was mad, really mad this time.  He
snarled back at her, "You let me go this instant you hicksburg dykeling
or I'll start screaming you're molesting me and we'll see which one of
us ends up in jail!"
	Sandy opened her mouth to reply, but at that instant there was a
crash at the other end of the salon, and general "diurse alarums" and a
panicked voice calling, "Sandy!  Shelly's having a seizure, wha'do we
do?!"  Shelly glanced aside, then got up and left without looking back.
	*That's it!* Tucker seethed, *I am LEAVING!*
	He slid off his right shoe, and after checking to make sure no one
was looking at him, bent it up until he could start pawing at the velcro
encircling his left wrist.
	It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally toed the cuff
loose.  The other one was off a few seconds after that.  He gathered up
his shoe and checked to make sure that nobody was looking at him - they
were all looking at the other end of the store or at people's hair -
before he bent down to retrieve his shoe and get the hell out of there.
	As he was going towards the back, looking for a door, he almost ran
into a woman just coming in.	"Oh, excuse me!" said the woman, who was
wearing a smock with the shop logo on it, like all the other employees
here.  "Um, can I help you?"
	Tucker thought for a brief instant before wild inspiration took
over his mouth.  "Uh, yeah, if you could?  I was getting a dye job, red
on this side," he pointed to where Sandy had managed to get to in the
dye job before she left, "and we were going to do the black, the rest of
it, and she got called away, and I have an appointment at ten, so I
really REALLY need to get it done quick..."

	Sandy sighed deeply as the paramedics started an IV line in
Shelly's arm.  She'd already been in seizure for over fifteen minutes
when Sandy had decided to call the ambulance, and it had taken forever
for them to get here, like it always did when there was something
seriously wrong.
	*It never rains but it pours,* she thought to herself.

	The woman, whose name was Lori, had just finished rinsing out the
remnants of the dye job.  It had taken some fast talking to get her to
do it, but Tucker had not been staring at Debbie when she was selling
something just because she was beautiful.
	Though she was beautiful, of course.
     So he'd used some of Debbie's words, and so Lori had done it, and
Tucker had to admit she'd done a damn good job.  He couldn't even tell
his hair had been brown, though it was obvious it was a dye job - the
red along the right side of his head did not match the sable of the rest
of it.  That was what had been giving Lori moral pangs.
	"No, no!" Tuck assured her.  "It looks GREAT, just like I wanted!"
Tucker was busy trying to remember where he had gotten the idea, among
other things.
	"Well, if you're sure," Lori said dubiously, though they both knew
it was too late to do anything about it now.
	"No, it's PERFECT," Tucker gushed.  "Oh, um, do you have a bathroom
here?"
	"Um, sure, just back there," Lori said, and Tucker picked up the
purse and after a last smile and wave, made his way past the other
stations, and found the bathroom.	Checking to make sure that Lori
wasn't paying attention to him any more - it looked like she was dealing
with another appointment already - he began checking the other doors in
the back.
	As he thought there would be, there was one that opened onto a
blank, narrow corridor.	*Gee, just like a mall service corridor or
something,* Tucker grinned as he slid through the door and closed it.
The hall went off into the distance, and Tucker could see boxes and
things in the hallway, as well as doors with placards on them that
undoubtedly named what store they went to.
	Just in case, Tucker pulled the two wedges he'd concealed in his
purse out, and securely wedged the door shut.  He was about to take off
down the corridor when an idea hit him.  *Why not get the hell out of
this dress, before I go?*  There was almost no chance he'd be seen, and
it would only take a few seconds....
	In a few seconds, he'd unzipped the dress from the rear and skinned
out of it.  For some reason, there was a coat hook in the wall not too
far away, so Tucker hung up the pale blue dress on it, just for the
obfuscatory aspect.  *That oughta make 'em think,* he smiled.
	He looked down, making sure the chemise and his last remaining pair
of boxers made an adequate if skimpy summer outfit, and slid the knee
socks down to a more casual length that matched his sandals and
everything else.
	Pulling his watch out of his purse - Jane hadn't even caught on to
the fact that Tucker had more hidden inside the lining than in the purse
itself - he strapped it on and checked the time.	Nine fifteen.
	"Wonder what time that surplus place opens," he wondered to himself
as stuck his hand into his underwear, yanked painfully, and came up with
his ATM card.	That got placed in his purse.  He stuck the purse over his
shoulder and took off at a casual jog down the corridor.

	Jane caught Sandy as she was sipping coffee, Shelly having been
taken to the hospital for a non-stop epileptic seizure that had lasted
almost half an hour.  "How's Valerie?" she asked.
	Sandy looked blank for a moment, then smiled.  "I thought he might
be a problem again, so I restrained him in the seat.  I don't think he'd
want to make a fuss about it, no matter what he said."
	Jane was no longer sure about ANYthing dealing with Valerie.
	Her distrust must have shown itself to Sandy, because she
wordlessly put her coffee down and walked hurriedly to the coloring
station.
	There was no sign of the restraints, and no sign of Valerie,
either.  Jane sighed deeply.	"Not again..."

	Tucker smiled to himself as the ATM honked and whirred and spat out
this wad of money that would be enough to keep him going for a month if
he had his camping gear and his American Youth Hostel card with him.
Which he didn't.  Not yet, anyway.
	Still, this ought to be enough to keep him occupied for a while.

	"It's jammed," Caroline gasped as she pushed against the door.
	"We KNOW that," Jane snapped back, thoroughly frazzled by this
time.  "H- she probably did it as she was leaving."
	Caroline gave up with a sigh, and turned back to face Jane.  "Well,
what now?"

	The shop opened at ten, which was just a few minutes away.	Tucker
debated hiding in the bushes versus lounging on the front porch like an
honest citizen, and decided the latter.  *Wouldn't want to make anyone
suspicious,* he thought with a grin.  Besides, the sunlight on his skin
was just what he needed to hit the perfect temperature.

	The mall door finally opened, and Sandy came through, wearing a
very grim face.  In one hand, she held the dress that Valerie had been
wearing.	In the other, she held two triangular blocks of wood.
	"The little bastard wedged the door shut, that's why we couldn't
open it," she said, and threw them into the trash can so hard it almost
tipped over.
	"But, what's he wearing now?" Caroline asked.

	The door finally opened, and a face peered out that looked somehow
like every other surplus shop employee Tucker had ever seen.  "Waiting
to come in?" he asked, gazing at Tucker, who was admittedly a little
underdressed.
	Tucker nodded, and the man opened the door wide and swept his arm,
inviting Tucker inside.

	"Jane," Charlie said as she started the car, "you know you'll never
find her unless she wants to be found."  They were pretty sure he wasn't
in the mall at this point, though Charlie kept wondering if they should
have checked the ceiling tiles...
	"I don't think she's that smart," Jane said through gritted teeth
as she pulled out of the parking space.
	*Well, she got away from you, didn't she?* he thought to himself,
but kept the grin off his face.  He knew Jane wouldn't see the humor in
the situation.

	Tucker immediately headed for the clothing, and within twenty
minutes had found a T shirt and fatigue pants, all in black, plus a
couple of black bandannas, three pairs of black socks, a New York
Yankees baseball cap, a new wallet plus a security chain, a fanny pack,
and two canteens, one of them the big kind.	And a tank top which said
"GRRLZ R KEWL" which was so demented he bought it.
	He'd lingered over the Leatherman tools, but finally talked himself
into getting the one with the screw-head set as a useful thing.	And a
good utility-type knife had caught his eye, and then there was a better
compass than the tiny one in his purse, and then there were the local
topo maps, and you could always use a notebook and pens...

	Jane tried to keep her eyes open, but what kept running through her
head as she drove around were a) Why did he dye his hair in that
ridiculous combination? and b) What could he POSSIBLY be wearing at that
moment?

	Tucker was walking along, flush with the feeling of clever
shopping, because for whatever reason the guy at the store had given him
a ten percent discount on everything he'd bought, and he needed in one
fashion or another everything he'd bought.  Including the textbook-sized
canvas satchel he'd had to get to hold everything.  The guy had even
tossed in a bottle of water purification tabs, gratis, when Tucker had
spun a line about going camping with family soon, and coming over here
to pick up the "other bits" before he went.
	Although he was in mind for some caffeine at this point.  Maybe it
was the stacks of cokes outside the grocery store which gave him the
idea.  *Effectiveness in advertising,* he thought as he dashed across
the street.  *I'm just a big Pavlovian dog, I guess.*
	He went into the store intending to get just a coke or two, and
found not only a pair of Keds clones in black that he had to get, but
also some makeup that looked a lot more like the girls at school wore
than the wimpy naturals that Jane demanded.	*Wouldn't want to stand
out,* he grinned as he bought a lipstick that was halfway between
blackberry stain and fresh blood, a pack of eye shadow in coppers, and
an eyeliner which (judging by the picture on the package) worked more
like a marker than a crayon.
	Going through the express lane, thinking of where the bus station
could be, he heard the garbled atonal yodelling of a deaf person coming
from the pretty girl ahead of him.  "Huh?" Tucker said, which was pretty
much what the cashier said.
	It was obvious to Tucker that the girl was getting frustrated with
her inability to communicate, so he tapped her on the shoulder.	She
turned around, her expression confirming Tuck's guess, and he flashed at
her in ASL, <Do you speak sign language?>
	<Yes!> she replied emphatically.  <I need to know if I can pay for
this with food stamps,> she added, pointing to a prepack salad in a
plastic box.
	"She wants to know if she can get the salad with food stamps,"
Tucker said to the cashier.  The cashier said no, and everyone looked
kind of pissed off for a second.
	Then Tucker shrugged, remembering something out of the Air Force
survival manual he'd been reading on the train trip when he wasn't
typing.  "Befriend the natives," it had said, and this looked like the
perfect opportunity to him.
	"I'll pay for it with mine," he told the cashier.  <I'll pay for it
and you can owe me,> he told the girl.	<What's your name?>
	<T-R-I-S-H> she spelled out as the cashier started ringing things
up.	<You don't have to do that,> she protested.
	<But then you'll want to show me around town for a while,> he
signed as he smiled at her.  <I'm new in town.>
	<Oh cool!> she signed back, smiling too.  <What's your name?>
	<V-A-L-E-R-I-E> he signed.  The cashier said something which Tucker
didn't catch.  "Huh?"
	"I said, thirty-six twenty-four, will that be cash or check?"
	"Um, cash," he said, digging in his wallet and coming up with two
twenties before he noticed she hadn't included a drink with her salad.
<Hey, get a drink,> he signed to her, and pointed at his coke.
 
Copyright 1997-1999 Ellen Hayes, all rights reserved