Taylor Galen Kadee

The Female Terror (Patreon)

Published:

2022-12-11 05:01:00

Imported:

2023-04

Content

by: Cooper

I crushed out my cigarette and, blowing the last of the smoke out of my

nose, leaned back in the booth and cast Tony a rueful glance. He knew

what it meant: the beer was running through me, and I needed to go to

the bathroom. Mick Jagger was vamping on the jukebox, singing, "Some

girls give me jewelry. Others buy me clothes" and Kara and Missy were

on the other side of the jukebox, looking like presents begging to be

opened in Day-Glo tank tops and wet pink lipstick.

I knew the ribbing was coming from them as I stood up and said, "I

need to hit the head."

"I'll go with," Tony said, sliding back off the barstool.

"Don't gossip too long in there, girls," Kara said.

Melissa laughed. I shot her a bird, and she shot one right back.

Tony punched me on the arm as we wound our way back through the

crowded bar to the Men's Room. A cardboard sign had been hung above

the hallway leading to the john that read, "Guys may not drain the

lizard solo."

"That didn't take long," I said, slapping the sign.

"They must have put it up right after the first fucking murders."

Two other guys passed us coming out as we went in.

Tony punched my arm again as we went into the bathroom. "The girls are drunk

as shit," he said. "I think we're getting lucky tonight."

"They're our girlfriends," I said. "We fucking get lucky all the

time."

"But this will be drunk chick sex," Tony said.

"You think that's better?"

"With Kara it is, man. She's a little uptight otherwise. She won't

even think about giving me a blowjob sober."

"She's probably afraid that little thing of yours will fall off in her

mouth."

"Fuck you. You're not exactly Long Dong Silver, buddy."

After we relieved ourselves, we checked ourselves out. I ran a hand

through my short black hair and tucked in my shirt. Tony stuck his

face close to the mirror, shoved half his hand into his left nostril

and yanked out a fistful of bristly black nose hairs.

"Your fucking nose hairs are gross. It looks like pig hair."

Tony rubbed them on my neck, and I rewarded him with a punch in the

ribs.

"Asshole," he said. "Rubbing nose hairs on a guy is good luck in my

culture."

"Bullshit, you fucking wop. Eating spaghetti out of a wine bottle,

maybe, and whacking little old ladies. Let's get back to the girls."

When we got back, we found that two of our buddies had come bounding

into the bar, and they were now sitting at the table with the girls.

Moses was writing something on a napkin while Jimmy sat in the corner

with his shades on, his back as straight and stiff as if there were a

metal pole in his tattered black trench coat.

"Another song?" I asked, pushing my way into the booth next to Kara

and Melissa.

Moses raised an eyebrow. "Naw, man. These are the answers to the

Calculus problems for our test we have tomorrow."

"Aren't you too drunk for this?" I asked Mel, getting a headache just

from glancing at the figures.

"Never," she said.

Just then I felt something pawing at my legs, and with a yelp I lifted

my feet off the floor, banging the heavy wooden table with my knees.

"Fuck."

Kara had climbed under the table and was scurrying around our legs,

scrambling out from under the table.

"That scared the shit out of me," I said as she popped up from the

other end, grinning.

"I thought it was a giant rat," Kara said, laughing.

"It was a giant rat," Moses said, getting a slap on the head from

Kara, who announced that she had to take a piss and disappeared into

the back of the bar. I almost envied her the freedom.

Kelvin drained the last of the beer. "Another round?"

"Let's go back to my place," Moses said. "I just got some shit in

that'll make you eat your socks."

"Eat my socks?" Kelvin snickered. "What kind of redneck jive is that,

OT?"

We called Moses OT, as in Old Testament. He was pretty much a holy

roller from down south somewhere who lived and ranted like a true

believer, except for the fact that he drank and gorged on drugs like

his fellow redneck poet, Hunter Thompson. He explained it all away by

saying, "Moses was a drunk. It says so right in The Book."

I don't know about anyone else, but that was a good enough explanation

for me.

Melissa yawned. "I better get home, sober up and study in the

morning."

I grabbed her arm and, nuzzling her ear with my nose, whispered, "how

about coming back to my room?"

She twisted her arm free and slipped away from me on the bench. "Not

tonight. I have a big test tomorrow."

The guys all started roaring.

The girls went home. We went to Moses' room, both Kelvin and I feeling

righteously entitled to a massive binge as a reward for not getting

laid. Moses dumped the Yeah! Yeah Yeahs! into his computer and the

music started while he prepped the bong and Jimmy passed oilcans of

Fosters around, listening to the music:

I got a man who makes me wanna kill

"The Yeahs owe everything to David Byrne," Kelvin said, wiping the

foam off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"No way. They are fucking Devo reborn, man. Are you deaf?" I said.

"Ain't one of you got any sense of music history," Moses said. "They

are pure Patsy Cline, and I'll fucking prove it to you."

He started to get up, but we threatened to throw his ass off the roof

of Camilla Hall if he even started to put any of his shit kicking

music on and killed our buzz.

We smoked and drank. Hours passed. The Yeahs gave way to The Dandy

Warhols, which gave way to some early David Bowie and then finally,

inevitably, a screening of The Wall. We were all sprawled out on the

floor, half sleeping while Bob Geldof used a piece of broken glass to

shave off his eyebrows.

I was the first to notice that Jimmy was gone.

"Where the fuck is Jimmy?"

"Is he in his bed?" Moses asked.

I got up. It was empty.

"He's not here," I said.

We all looked at each other.

"Maybe he's passed out in the hall," Kelvin said.

"Maybe he went to the bathroom."

We all felt a chill.

"Oh, fuck," I said, looking at the door.

"Let's not panic," Moses said, struggling to his feet. "He probably

just passed out somewhere. Let's go look."

"Even if he went to the bathroom," Kelvin said, "that doesn't mean

anything. It doesn't happen every time."

I have to admit, I didn't want to go look. I knew as sure as I was

standing there that Jimmy must have gone to the bathroom alone, that

the killer had been waiting, that he had become the latest victim.

"He's dead," I whispered. "I can feel it."

"Hey, calm down," Moses said. "It just ain't likely."

But Kelvin was standing close to the door, and when he looked back at

me, his eyes were wide with fear. "It's cold," he said.

"What do you mean?"

But even as he said it, we could see mist flowing in under the door,

and a sub-zero chill draft wafted through the room, making the hair on

my arms stand on end.

"The killer's still be out there," I said, and even as I said the

words I could feel the presence, some kind of presence, and my legs

felt weak, almost collapsing under me.

"Open the door," Moses said to Kelvin, grabbing an old wooden ax

handle he kept under his desk.

"Don't," I said. "The killer is out there. Right outside the door. I

can feel it."

"Shut up, you fucking pussy," Moses said, something hard in his eyes.

"Open the goddamn door."

Kelvin reached for the handle but froze then backed away. "I can't,"

he said.

With a snort of disgust, Moses stepped forward, grabbed the handle and

yanked the door open so hard it slammed against the cinder block wall

of his dorm room. The hall outside was empty, but it wasn't quiet. The

loud hissing of running water was coming from down the hall.

Moses walked slowly out the door, ax handle ready.

The presence I'd felt was suddenly gone. I took a deep breath and

followed, Kelvin right behind me.

The door to the bathroom was open, and there was steam coming out the

Door. The hissing grew louder as we approached, and when we finally

reached the bathroom we saw that all of the faucets in the sinks were

on full blast, as were the showers. The lights flickered, the water in

all the urinals was running, and the doors to the stalls stood open.

On the sink was a small black leather purse, and on the mirror written

in lipstick were the words "Jimmy is gone. Boys should never go to the

bathroom alone."

"Oh shit," I said.

"Fuck," Kelvin answered.

Moses just stood there, his legs wide apart, tapping the ax handle

against his palm, not saying a word. Jimmy was—had been—his best

friend. I couldn't think of anything to say, but I tried. "Moses, man,

look, I', sorr—"

And then with an animal growl Moses raised his ax handle and brought

it crashing against the mirror on a titanic arc that sent glass

exploding across the room. "God Damn it," he yelled, hammering at the

counter, batting the little black purse across the room, to bounce off

a wall and settle in small puddle. "Mother fucker," and he turned,

slamming against one of the stalls, just as Kevin grabbed him and

wrestled him to the floor, where Moses collapsed, sobbing.

I was looking at the little black purse. It had popped open when it

hit the wall, and I could see that there was something inside, so I

walked over, knelt down, opened it the rest of the way and began to

pull out the contents. The first thing I grabbed was a pair of black,

lace panties. The next thing was a nail file and a small jar of clear

polish. There was also a pair of heart shaped garnet earrings and some

barrettes. Eyebrow tweezers and a compact. Some cherry flavored lip-

gloss.

Is the killer a woman? I wondered. Why would she leave this behind?

It didn't make any sense, though it would begin to the very next

afternoon, with the very strange news report of Jimmy's death.

I was with Melissa, hung over, emotionally drained from the night

before. I'd slept right through my morning classes, called her and

asked her to meet me at my room. Rumors had swirled across campus the

whole day, and I filled her in on what had happened, while the

television buzzed in the background. I was just describing how they

had taken Moses to the infirmary to be observed when she hissed,

pointed to the TV and said, "Turn it up."

I turned to see Jimmy's picture behind the face of the smiling

newswoman, grabbed the remote and brought the volume up.

"...... just the latest victim of the killer some are now calling the

Bathroom Strangler. For more, let's cut to live Sally Roman at Abigail

Xavier College."

The camera cut to the newswoman standing in front of the dark, ivy

clad administration building. She was holding a small black leather

purse.

"That's the one," I said.

"Shush."

"We are now learning from authorities that a purse just like this one

was found at each of the scenes of disappearances."

"Why weren't we notified of this before?" The anchor asked.

"Well, police typically will keep details like this secret in order to

help weed out fakes who will confess to crimes they didn't commit. But

a strange new development has led authorities to now release the

information. According to both the police and college authorities,

they received a call this morning from the killer."

"Do we have tape of that call?"

"Yes, we do."

The camera shifted to Marilyn Stalwart, the college's Vice President.

"We are making this message available because we are concerned about

the safety of our male students. We hope that everyone will take this

message very seriously."

At first, all we could hear was a scratching, hissing noise, as if the

call was made from a very bad connection, and then a dry, hollow

voice, like wind in the trees said, “I have taken seven men. They

went to the bathroom alone. I will now begin to take more men. Those

who do not carry the bags I have left will be mine, and I will take

them day or night. All of the men of the college must carry my bag,

from now until forever, or they will die. You have two days."

"Did I hear that right?" The anchor asked.

I glanced at Melissa. "This is stupid."

Sally Roman held up the purse. "That's the message the killer left,

and he does seem threaten that if men don't start to carry this

handbag with them they will be killed."

"Is this serious?" The anchor asked, echoing my thoughts.

"We are taking this very seriously," Marilyn Stalwart answered,

stepping into the picture. "This killer, until he or she is found, has

already abducted and presumably killed seven of our students. I hope

and pray that all of the young men will not take a chance, and will

please, if they leave their rooms, travel in groups and at least

consider carrying this purse. The exact purse left by the killer is an

Elliot Luca Nadya Demi in black leather, and it can be purchased at

the mall in Cheeverville or via the Internet. We have a shipment being

over-nighted and it should be at the college bookstore tomorrow. I

know this is strange and awkward for the guys, but we do not believe

the killer is bluffing."

"Why would the killer make such a—strange demand?" Roman asked.

"No comment," Marilyn Stalwart said. "It would only be speculation."

The report turned to babble from police about leads and

Investigations. It was vague enough to suggest they had no leads. I

turned the television off. Mel patted me on the shoulder. "That's a

really cute purse," she said.

"I'm not going to carry a purse," I said. "That's the stupidest thing

I ever heard."

"Pat, you said the same thing about going to the bathroom together

when that first started."

"Yeah, but that—"

"Look what happened to Jimmy."

"It's bullshit," I said.

"Aren't you scared?"

"No," I lied. "At least not enough to start carrying a fucking purse."

"I guess I can't really blame you. But promise that you'll at least

avoid going out anywhere alone."

"That, I'll promise," I said. "But I would sooner cut my own balls off

than start carrying an Elliot Loco or whatever the fuck it's called.

Shit, I may just hole up in my room until this is all over."

"What about your classes?"

"They should cancel them," I said. "This is nuts."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll withdraw from school and go the fuck home."

Melissa had to go to class, and I think she could sense that it would

be best to just let it go. As soon as I kissed her goodbye, I locked

my door, drew the curtains and crawled back into bed, flicking on the

television to watch more of the news coverage.

Abigail College, or Abby Co, as we liked to call it, was thirty miles

from a nowhere town with one small television station, and that

nowhere town was a hundred miles from another nothing city. The story

of the killer and the strange demands was more than enough to push the

pig festival off the docket. Without really paying attention, I pulled

the covers right up to my chin. Each time they played the tape and I

heard that voice, I felt the chill from the night before, and I felt

that presence I'd sensed in the hall, and I couldn't stop myself from

shivering. That thing had made contact with me somehow, through the

wall, and I knew that if I left my room without that handbag, I would

disappear, just like Jimmy.

I fell asleep. I dreamt that Mel was leading me down a dark, narrow

hallway. I was trailing behind her, clutching my purse to my chest,

whispering, "Stop. I'm scared. I'm scared."

And she just kept saying, "I'll protect you. It'll be all right. Just

a little further."

And I followed her into the darkness.

I woke up in the late afternoon, my room gloomy. I could see shadows

moving outside my door, someone was out there, and my breath caught in

my throat for a second until a green piece of paper slid under the

door and whoever it was walked away. I rolled out of bed, stood up and

scratched my ass, yawning as I walked over to pick up the flyer:

Man Purse Party

Tonight. 10-?

Third Floor

Boys bring your purses or no beer.

Let's have some fun with it.

The Meat.

I laughed. Figure The Meat to find a way to make a joke out of it. The

Meat was the essence of Abby Co. He'd flunked out of MIT and come to

Abby Co - which we liked to call the trimmings of the Ivy League—to

find a place where 'free thinking, free sex, and free time' were in

abundance. Most of us were from wealthy families and had come here

when we'd realized that we weren't interested in becoming our parents

— just waiting for them to die and leave us a trust fund. It was a

theater/arts school full of alternative lifestyle theater guys who

prided themselves on being as far out of the mainstream as possible.

I wasn't one of them, but The Meat had played Juliet in a

'traditional' staging of Shakespeare — if you can call a play

featuring a 5' 7", 240-pound stoner as Juliet traditional -- and

probably half the guys on campus had spent time in drag — or wanted

to. I, of course, had done my theater credits on the technical side,

having no interest in spending any of my time in drag.

Kelvin, Moses, me and our clique were kind of the exception — former

high-school jocks who hadn't been good enough to compete in college,

basically conservatives with an unhealthy love of the weed which kept

us from being able to make it at a college where you had to do things

like study and regularly attend class.

The idea of carrying a purse had been bullshit, but the man purse

party kind of appealed to my sense of humor. I wondered if Melissa had

something she could lend me. I fired up my little coffee pot, sat down

at my desk, and looking at the clock, wondered where Kelvin was. The

fact that he hadn't been around all day normally wouldn't have

bothered me, but things were different now, and campus wasn't a safe

place for men to walk alone.

The thought of leaving struck me, again. I would miss Melissa, but it

just seemed like the smartest thing. The killer, or whatever it was,

didn't seem to me like something that could be caught in any

conventional sense. And even if I didn't die in the short term, I

couldn't see continuing to live in fear, to carry a purse for Christ

sake. For what? I'd only come here to have fun, and things at good

old Abbey Co weren't too much fun anymore.

The phone rang. It was my mother. "Come home," she said.

We talked. I assured her that I would be careful, and that I would

leave for home first thing in the morning.

I turned on the news afterward to confirm what she'd told me: Federal

agents had come into town to investigate this mysterious threat

against the precious children of the rich. One of them had gone to the

bathroom alone and had vanished. They'd found the purse in his place.

One last big blast, I decided. One last massive party. And then I am

out of here. Maybe this is just the kick in the pants I need. I'll go

back to Columbia, beg them for a second chance. Get serious about my

life.

But tonight, I am going to get shit-faced and say goodbye to Abbey Co

in style.

In the meantime, I had to take a pee, but there was no way in hell I

would go to the bathroom alone. I opened the door. The hall was empty.

I walked down to the bathroom hoping that maybe some other guys were

in there, but the room was empty. I was practically hopping I had to

go so bad, but the empty space above the sinks where the mirror was

sent a chill down my spine.

I anxiously knocked on doors until Mike Jones, a guy I didn't really

know, answered. "I really need to take a piss bad," I said. "Will you

come with?"

He smirked. "Sure thing. I could use a whiz myself."

After I thanked him. "If you ever need anything, someone to go with

you or whatever, just knock," I said.

"Will do, man."

"What do you think about this purse shit?"

"I think I am going to sit in my room and play Halo2 until they catch

this Metro-sick-sual."

"That's a good one."

"I saw it on a fucking discussion board."

"Take it easy."

"Be safe."

Kelvin and Moses finally showed up. Kelvin had been hanging with Moses

all day. They'd been to the mall and found the handbag, and were

sitting in the room opening them and inspecting them when Kara and

Melissa came up.

"You guys are actually going to do it?"

"I'm going to find that damn killer myself," Moses said, his purse in

his lap. "But I'll find it on my terms, and this will allow me to move

around in the meantime."

"I'm helping him," Kelvin said. "The police don't know what they're up

against."

"Maybe we should talk about this," Kara said, sitting down next to

Kevin and taking the purse from his lap. "I don't want to see you get

hurt."

Melissa took Moses' purse and started to look it over. "What about

you?" She said to me, the concern in her eyes.

"Chickenshit is running for the hills," Moses answered for me.

"What?"

"Melissa, I was going to tell you, but I wanted to do it privately."

I shot Moses a look.

"You're going home?"

"Until this blows over," I said, knowing I would probably never come

back. "Just until then." I stood up and gave Melissa a hug. She

answered, holding me tight. I could tell she was both relieved and

saddened. I felt the same way. I would miss her.

"We'll talk," Melissa said.

"This really is a cute purse," Kara said, handing the bad back to

Kelvin. "I'm jealous."

"Wait until you see the shoes I got to match," Kelvin said, slinging

the strap over his arm and mimicking a girly walk.

"Are you serious?"

"No," he said, laughing. "How do I look?"

"Incredibly stupid," Kara said, both girls laughing. But then she got

up and gave Kelvin a hug. "But you're very brave to stay and all."

I felt like a loser. Now the guys carrying purses were getting kudos

for their bravery? What was the world coming to?

We told the girls about the purse party, and we all agreed that we had

to go. It might be the last time we were all together. Jimmy's

disappearance was still there in the background, but it gave the whole

night a bittersweetness to it. That was all the more palpable because

as we walked across campus to Melissa's room so she could find a bag

for me, laughing and joking in the gathering fall gloom, we knew that

Jimmy would never be there again, stiff and quiet behind his shades, a

little smile playing on his lips — the closest he would ever come to

laughing.

Moses and Kelvin had slung their purses over their shoulders, figuring

they might as well get used to carrying them. They'd had both decided

to brazen it out, and as we walked across campus, I noticed that a few

other guys had also decided to take the plunge. Whenever Moses of

Kelvin spotted another guy toting a handbag they'd yell out, "hey

cuties" or something else stupid, and the guy would usually shake his

shoulders or do a little sashay in mock feminine style. The girls

laughed each time, and I felt more and more like a limp dick for

having been such a baby about it. The most surprising thing to me was

how much attention they seemed to get from the girls, who all teased

and laughed, but seemed to admire them for having such a carefree

attitude about it all.

Mumbling something about last spring, Melissa dug through her closet,

finally hauling out a big white purse with pink trim and a pink

shoulder strap. She held it out to me with both hands, grinning. "For

you."

Getting into the spirit of things from Kelvin and Moses, I took the

purse and slung it on my arm. "Why do I suddenly feel like I am a just

a little too close to putting on a dress?"

We all laughed.

At the cafeteria for diner, we all hung our purses from the back of

our chairs before sitting. The girls watched, amused.

"This is too freaky," Kara said. "What could possibly be the killer's

motive for this?"

"I don't know, and I don't much give a damn," Moses said. "I'm going

to take that thing out if it's the last thing I do. And then I'll

shove this purse up its ass, if it has one."

"Maybe you should leave it to the police," Melissa said, always the

cautious one. I think she was also trying to protect me a little bit,

to let me know she hadn't lost respect for me due to my decision to

run.

"Leave it to the police?" Kara asked. "Like the ones who vanished

today?"

"They don't know what they're dealing with," Moses said. "They're

looking for a killer, but this ain't no killer. It's a damn spirit."

He paused. "Ladies and gents, we are now in the middle of a horror

movie."

"He's right," I said suddenly.

"Yeah," Kelvin threw in. "The way the water had all been turned on?

There's no way that was done by an ordinary killer."

"It's possible," Melissa said. "You guys don't even know how long

Jimmy was gone."

"I felt it," I said. "When it was outside our door, and everything

turned cold, I felt it moving out there. It wasn't a person. It was a

thing. Some kind of spirit. Evil, and it was almost like it reached

right through the door and touched me. I got all cold and weak, I

could barely stand. This thing isn't human. That's why I am getting

the hell out of here."

"And letting Jimmy's killer get away?"

"What the hell do you think you can do to this thing, Moses? It comes

and goes, appears and disappears. It takes federal agents out without

leaving a trace. What makes you think that you can stop it?"

"My faith in God."

"God didn't save Jimmy," Melissa said.

"Jimmy didn't have faith like I do."

"And you think that will be enough?"

Kelvin was watching, half-hoping, I think, that we would talk Moses

out of all this, but Moses couldn't be shaken. "If you have the faith

the size of a mustard seed you can move mountains," Moses said.

"That's a fact."

"My God, My God," I answered. "Why have you abandoned me?"

"You really want to start arguing scripture with me?" Moses said,

leaning forward eagerly.

"No," I said. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Then don't run away like a damn pansy. Help me."

"I can't," I said. "I don't believe that we can deal with this thing.

I don't think we can even find it, and if we did it would take us,

too."

"If it takes us, fine. But I'd rather die doing the right thing than

live with the guilt of having done wrong."

The table was quiet. Melissa covered my hand with her own and said,

"Sometime what's right for one person isn't right for another."

"Dude," Kelvin said. "I'm not so sure about dying. Death is pretty

much a little more permanent than I want to get into right now."

"We won't die," Moses said disgustedly. "As long as we're prepared to.

But if there is any fear in us, that could be the end. You sure you're

up to this, Kelvin? Maybe you want to run away, too."

"Hell no," Kelvin said almost hiding the fear in his voice. "I'm ready

to fucking die if you are."

"God," Kara said, "this macho stuff really turns me on."

*****

The whole third floor was in on the Man Purse Party, the doors to all

the rooms open. It seemed like the whole campus was there crowding the

halls and the rooms, bodies squeezed in tight everywhere. There were

two guys stationed in the bathroom at all times — and usually a lot

more than that hanging around, drinking beer — so the chances of a

slip up were nil. It was just like any other party with music blaring,

people shouting to be heard over the noise, guys and girls flirting.

Just like any other party but for the fact that every guy was carrying

a purse of some kind. Some had 'the purse' but most had borrowed

something from a girlfriend, and they ran the gamut from little bags

to big, frumpy straw bags decorated with plastic daisies.

I noticed Jack McGovern and his group weren't there, and it didn't

surprise me. They were the self-styled cherry popping daddies of the

campus, guys who prided themselves on busting virgins and dumping

them, and it disappointed me that they hadn't shown up — I had been

looking forward to seeing them trying their usual tricks on the co-eds

with their little purses in hand, but it didn't surprise me they'd

passed this party up. It didn't matter.

I got drunk too fast, slamming beers, trying not to think about Jimmy,

about Mel and how much I would miss her, about Moses and Kelvin and

what might happen to them if they really did follow through on their

threats. At some point, Melissa grabbed my purse strap and used it to

drag me outside onto the stairwell. I can't remember exactly what we

talked about—how much we would miss each other, how terrible it was

what happened to Jimmy, how worried she was about me, how worried I

was about her. We made out. We cried. At some point she talked me out

of getting even more shit-faced and helped me back down to my room,

putting me to bed.

"If you need to go," she said, putting an empty Evian bottle next to

my bed. "Go in this, okay?"

I nodded.

She got up and crossed the room, standing in a wedge of light with the

door half opened, look back at me, her eyes full of concern, and then

she walked out, closing the door softly behind her, leaving me in the

dark.

It must be nice, I thought, to able to walk around campus alone

without being afraid.

*****

I dreamt of Jimmy. He was in a small, dark room with a ceiling so low

he couldn't stand up but had to crawl on his knees, even then being

able to move only in a small circle. It was so dark he couldn't see

the hands in front of his face. He couldn't speak. Couldn't even make

a sound. He lay down on his back and reached up to feel the small,

fleshy breasts on his chest. I could hear his thoughts. "This can't be

happening," he said to himself, giving his breasts a little squeeze.

"This can't be happening." And then, "where are my friends? Why

aren't they helping me?"

I didn't tell anyone about the strange dream. I'd taken intro to

psyche. I was just feeling guilt and it had projected itself into my

dreams. That's what I wanted to tell myself, at least. To believe. But

it had felt more like a return of that presence than a true dream, and

some part of me deep inside believed that I had made contact with

Jimmy, that he was still alive, that I was abandoning him.

Hell, maybe Moses would be the hero. Save him. Whatever. Fuck it. I

just couldn't wait to get to my hotel that night and get shit-faced,

forget all about the bullshit.

I had my car packed, had shaken hands with the guys, hugged the girls.

I sat down and drove toward the archway that marked the exit from

campus, thinking about that narrow two-lane highway that would

eventually take me to the Interstate and after about 18 hours of

driving, home. I thought about Kelvin and Moses, wondering if this was

the last time I would ever see them alive, or if their vengeance would

be stifled, like just about all of their other plans, by their

preference for getting stoned over taking action.

The security guard came out of his booth as I approached. I noticed he

was wearing the purse across his chest, bandolier style.

"Nice purse," I said.

He ignored me. "We are urging all students to remain on campus," he

said, leaning down to my window.

"Why's that?" I said, getting ready to tell him to go fuck himself

and the latest stupid policy from Abbey Co's clueless administration.

"Three guys decided to leave campus last night. Go home. Get away from

the danger. Their car was found this morning parked on the side of the

road."

"They were gone?"

"And three of these were sitting in the seats." I patted the purse at

his hip.

"So, there's no escape?" I said, not wanting to believe it.

"It doesn't look that way."

My cell phone rang as I backed up my car. I stopped and answered. It

was Melissa. "Don't leave," she said.

"I just heard the news," I answered. "Where are you now?"

"You and Kelvin's room."

"I'm on my way back up."

******

I felt ashamed that I had tried to run away, but as I made my way down

the hall and back to the room, I decided that if I was trapped here, I

was just going to have to join Moses in his fight. See what could be

done about this killer. Classes seemed so pointless now. How could I

spend time studying carbon formations in biochemistry with Jimmy out

there trapped by that thing?

I stood outside the door for a moment, thought about what I would say,

how I would apologize to them all, then finally turned the handle and

walked in.

Moses immediately threw his arms around me, slapped me on the back and

said, "The Lord works in mysterious ways, my friend."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have tried to run..."

He cut me off. "Nothing to apologize for," he said. "You had to do

that to know."

"To know what?"

"That God wants you to stand and fight."

"That's what I'm going to do," I said. "It's what I have to do."

"Kara and I are going to help," Melissa said, stepping up and giving

me a hug as well, though she added a tender little kiss on the cheek.

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"We gonna need the girls," Moses answered. "They can move more freely

than we can."

"He's right," Melissa said.

Kelvin hugged me next, and then Kara. I was really touched that they

all welcomed me back, that all seemed forgiven. It made me appreciate

what great friends I had.

"So what's the plan?" I said when the hug fest finally ended.

"We need to hit the library," Moses said.

"The library?"

"Find out about the history of this college, this land. Go through the

archives. Read old newspaper stories."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"It's what they always do in horror movies," Kelvin said.

"Horror movies?" I asked.

"Yeah? Like, remember in Ringu? That chick had to find the history

behind the horror."

"This isn't a fucking movie."

"What else do we have to go on?" Kara said.

"I took parapsychology last semester," Melissa said. "Vengeance

seeking apparitions are always motivated by some injustice they feel

was visited upon them in life. They are angry. They lash out in order

to pay back a world they feel has done them wrong. It's just like in

the movies."

"Let's get going," Moses said, grabbing his purse and standing up.

"I'll meet you guys over there," I answered.

They all looked at me, suspiciously, like I'd lost my nerve already,

was planning to run. I felt embarrassed to say it: "I have to... go

shopping. I need a new purse."

"Don't you worry about that," Melissa said. "I ordered one for you

over the Internet before you told me you were leaving. It should be

here sometime today."

"Really?" I said. "Thanks."

"I also ordered you some really cute clogs," she said. "You're going

to be a little cutie."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's get out of here before she gets any more

ideas."

"Did I mention the corset?" She said as we poured out the door. "Oh,

and the prettiest little bow for your hair!"

"You didn't get me a bow!" Kelvin objected to Kara, giving her a

pinch in the ribs.

"You're not man enough for a bow," she answered. "But I'll get you a

scrunchie if you rub my feet."

"And what if I rub your kitten?"

"You know you have to let me spank you for that."

"Guys," Moses said. "You are starting to gross me out."

"I second that," Melissa said.

"I was getting kind of horny," I threw in. It went on like that as we

walked over to the library on that brisk, fall morning, leaves

drifting to the ground around us with each gentle breeze. I found

myself thinking of Jimmy, and the other items I'd seen in the purse.

And I wondered what it was that made me want to keep those two things

a secret.

We passed the bookstore on the way to the library. The shipment of

bags had come in, and there was a line of guys out the door waiting to

buy one. Pairs of guys streamed out the exit, clutching their new

purses, their faces projecting a sense of security and relief. It had

become rare to see a guy walking around campus alone since the whole

murder spree started, and as I watched these guys happily clutching

their handbags, formerly feminine objects that had now come to

represent safety to them, I couldn't help but smile at the thought

that soon pairs of guys would be walking across campus feeling safe

and secure only when they were in groups, and only when they had their

pretty little handbags on their shoulders.

A strange thought popped into my head: They deserve it. And I

chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Melissa asked, shocking me out of my reverie.

I shook my head, confused. "I don't know," I said. "Nothing."

Moses gave me a look I didn't like, as if he were suspicious about

something.

"What?" I said, sticking my chest out.

"Laugh all you want," he said with a wink, "but you'll be carrying one

of these around just like the rest of us."

"I know," I said. "I know." But there was still something in his eyes

that bothered me.

*****

We spent the afternoon in the library, searching through the

microfiche of the Cheeverville Gazette. Kelvin and Kara found several

books about the college and its founder, Abigail Xavier. They sat

reading, murmuring, taking notes. Melissa, Moses and I divided the

microfiche up into decades. I was reading 1990-2000. Melissa 1980-

1990. Moses 1970-1980. Kelvin had started to argue that decades

properly started on the one rather than the zero, and had insisted

that if we were really going to do this right, we should be doing 1981-

1991 ...etc... We told him to shut up.

The Cheeverville Gazette did not provide extensive coverage of little

Abby Co, but they printed little stories about our sports teams and

activities from time to time, and could always be counted on to cover

any scandal, so we had hope that anything pertaining to our mystery

would be reported. But as I skimmed through paper after paper, year

after year, my eyes burning from the hours staring into the bright

light, I came up empty.

Neither Moses nor Melissa found anything either. As dinner time

approached and our stomachs began to demand sustenance, we still had

years to go, so finally flicking off the lights on the microfiche

machines and dumping the rolls on the return cart, we found gathered

up Kelvin and Kara and headed for the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was abuzz with news, gossip and rumors. There had been

more disappearances. Bodies had been found floating in Hariman's Pond.

The cops had arrested a transsexual from the next town. That was all

bullshit. But the news report that came on the television helped us

separate fact from fiction. There had been no additional

disappearances. The police had suspects but couldn't discuss them at

this time or make any prediction as to when an arrest might occur, and

the killer had made a new demand: all of the men on the campus had 36

hours to find and start wearing a pair of panties whenever they went

out in public. The item was once again specified: A black Victoria's

Secret 'Very Sexy' Embroidered V-string.

We all looked at each other, swallowing. "This is getting really

fucking weird," Kelvin said.

"That doesn't look like it's designed with a whole lot of room to let

my boys swing in the breeze," Moses offered, looking a little white.

"It has a string that goes right up your butt," Kara said.

"Like a thong?" Kelvin said.

"Yeah," Kara said, tilting her head to one side. "Pretty much."

"Are you going to do it?" Melissa asked, pretty much speaking to the

whole table.

"It's either that or die," Moses said, but I could see this strange

new request had taken the wind out of his sails a little bit.

"There's a Victoria Secret in Cheeverville," Kelvin said.

"And why would you be so sure about that?" Kara asked.

"Because I've been hanging out in there and sniffing panties for

years."

It was good to hear Kelvin keep joking. We didn't realize it at the

time, but a sense of humor was one of the things that kept us going

through the fear and confusion that surrounded us.

There had been good news as well: The campus had banned news media

from coming on campus and filming the students, so there was no fear

that we'd be filmed walking around campus with our purses. And

experimentation had shown that we men could safely leave campus as

long as we carried our purses with us wherever we went. Presumably, in

another day and night, that would mean that anywhere we went we would

have to carry our purses — and also wear our panties. Which all meant

that we were as good as trapped.

Again, I thought of the other items in the bag — the nail polish, the

eyebrow tweezers, and I thought I should tell my friends about it, but

again, I found myself wanting to keep it a secret. It will be fun, I

thought, to see their surprise when they find out what's next.

After dinner we went back to my and Kelvin's room. Outside the door

was a box labeled 'The Sophisticated Female'. "Looks like your purse

is here, buddy boy," Moses said.

"Finally, we'll all match," Kelvin added. I picked up the box, gave

Melissa and kiss and said "thanks."

Inside, Moses jumped online and searched for the Victoria's Secret

website, Kara sitting at his side. I carefully opened the box, and

removed my purse from the bubble wrap, which Kelvin grabbed and

gleefully began popping. "I love this shit," he said. I sat there,

opening the purse and looking inside, sitting it on my lap and

thinking, this is my purse.

It just didn't seem right. Melissa gave me a pat on the shoulder. I

offered back a rueful smile.

Kara suddenly squealed "Oh my God" and covered her mouth with both

hands, trying to suppress a storm of giggles that escaped her.

"Come over here and take a look at this," Moses said, whistling at the

computer.

We all got up and crowded around the computer, getting our first look

at the v-string we would soon be wearing. Melissa nearly burst out

laughing, too, throwing her arms around Kara. The two girls tumbled

onto their beds in a laughing fit, tears pouring down their cheeks.

Moses, Kelvin and I just stood there looking, our mouths hanging open.

"We have to fucking wear that?" Kelvin said.

"This is one strange spirit," Moses whispered, and for some reason the

comment sent the girls into another fit of squeals and giggles.

The guys glanced at each other, shaking our heads, our cheeks

flushing. Who could blame them?

"I'm gonna order five pairs for myself," Moses said, his voice heavy

with resignation.

"I don't know," Kelvin said. "This is too weird. Maybe I'll just stay

in the fucking room."

"Five pairs for Kelvin," Moses said, ignoring him.

"No, man," Kelvin said, glancing over at the girls who were still on

the bed, arms around each other, wiping their tears and trying to

regain their composure. "I can't."

"You were saying earlier today you were willing to die to stop this

thing, but now you're not willing to wear women's underwear no one can

even see?"

"I won't be able to stand up straight in those things," Kelvin said,

making the girls giggle again, though a little less boisterously.

"Five pairs for Kelvin," Moses repeated. "How about you?" I was half

expecting him to ask me if I was going to run away again, but instead

there was only confidence in his eyes, a certainty that I was on board

and would help him find the thing and destroy it. The thought made me feel good.

"Better get me seven pairs," I said. "I don't like to do laundry."

"Get a pair for me while you're at it," Kara said. "Kelvin and I can

match."

Kelvin shot her a bird.

She shot one back.

The girls left. We decided that Moses would stay in our room — it

wasn't safe for a boy to be out alone on campus, and if he needed to

go to the bathroom during the night one of us would be there.

*****

When I fell asleep, I dreamt again of Jimmy: He was still in the

small, dark room. I could feel the breasts tugging at his chest—they

were bigger now and swayed as he crawled toward what sounded like a

voice whispering in the darkness. "Let me out," he called, in a high,

feminine voice, hooking his long hair back behind an ear. "Please let

me out."

The whispering continued. I couldn't make out any of the words.

"Please," Jimmy said again, starting to cry. "Please let me out."

"Fuck you," the voice suddenly shouted, tense with anger. "I'm going

to fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you."

The whole little chamber started to shake and there was a loud

clanging, like steel on steel, as is something was trying to smash its

way into the chamber. Jimmy screamed, a high-pitched scream like a

terrified little girl, stuck his fingers in his ears and curled up

into a ball, pulling his smooth, rounded legs to his chest as he

whimpered "no, no no. no. no."

The clanging stopped. The dark chamber grew quiet but for the gentle

weeping of a frightened girl.

*******

When I woke Moses was sitting at the computer watching me. His eyes

looked empty in the strange light of the computer screen, uplit like a

man sticking a flashlight under his chin to scare a little child.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked calmly.

"Fuck," I said, sitting up, "some kind of nightmare. I don't even

remember. What are you doing?"

"Research," he said. "On demons."

I nodded. "You're really determined."

"I always get up this early," he answered.

I could see through the curtains that it was dawn, the sky growing

light. There didn't seem to be any point in trying to go back to bed.

"I'm gonna make some coffee. You want?"

"Sounds good to me."

After I got the pot brewing, I slipped out of the sweat shorts I slept

in and pulled on a pair of boxers. "I guess this is the last morning

for a while I'll be wearing guy stuff under my pants," I said.

"Guess so," Moses answered.

"You don't seem too bothered by it. You some kind of cross dresser?"

"No point getting upset about things you can't change."

"Would you two please," Kelvin called from somewhere under his

comforter, "shut the fuck up and let me sleep."

I threw our little foam basketball in the direction the comment had

come from and walked over to see what Moses was looking at, seeing a

screen with pentagrams and magic circles on it, images I knew well

from my nerdy-lord brother's days playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Moses grabbed my forearm. I tried to pull away, but his grip was

steel. "You tell me if you remember anything about that dream," he

said, and let go.

*****

Campus was quiet as we walked over to the cafeteria to meet the girls

and get some breakfast before heading back to the library. A lot of

the women were out, jogging across campus, hurrying to the cafeteria

or class, and we did pass two men jogging across campus, their purses

dutifully slung across their shoulders. Sprinkled among the large

crowd of women outside Fisher Auditorium were a handful of guys

sporting their black handbags, and there were some more of us, purses

slung over the backs of their chairs, in the cafeteria. But clearly a

lot of guys had decided to lay low.

I mentioned it to the rest of the group as we sat down with our trays.

"Maybe they're on the way to Cheeverville Mall to do a little shopping

for delicates," Kara said.

"Did you guys find anything in those books?"

Kara and Melissa had taken the biography of Abigail Xavier as well as

The History of Abigail Xavier college back to their rooms to do more

reading the night before, but they each shook their heads.

"The only daughter of a wealthy industrialist, founded Abigail Xavier

in 1919 as a women's college. Married once. Patron of the arts. New

York society lady, blah, blah, blah. Nothing that seemed relevant to

our problem."

Kara nodded in agreement. "The history of the college is pretty much

devoid of demons, murders and cross-dressing."

"Why did she build the college way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Summer home in the country," Kara answered. "Left to her by her

father, whom, and I quote, 'she revered as if he were a Roman

prince'."

"Damn," Moses said, clearly frustrated. "There has to be something."

"Well," Melissa said. "One thing I noticed is that each of these books

was written by a former history professor here at the college, Doctor

Sarah Beverly Stanton. They were also published by Abigail Xavier

College Press."

"Whitewash," I said.

Melissa and Moses nodded.

"Whitewash?" Kelvin said, his mouth full of fruity pebbles, milk

dribbling down his chin.

"They left out all the dirt," Melissa said.

"We have to keep looking for primary sources," Moses agreed. "We're

getting close," Moses said. "I can feel it."

Morning turned to afternoon. We worked right through lunch. Afternoon

gave way to early evening. There were a couple a ha! Moments when we

thought we'd hit on something — a student who committed suicide in

1979, a series of accidental deaths in the sixties, nothing really

clicked. We were just about to give up when three quick finds seemed

to at least promise hope.

In 1980 the college, facing declining enrollment and under the

leadership of Wayne Garrison, its first male president, had decided to

go co-ed against tremendous opposition from alumna and various women's

groups. At the end of that first co-ed year, Garrison had appeared at

a board meeting wearing a women's business suit and announced that he

was resigning immediately in order to pursue sexual reassignment

surgery and a new life as "the remarkable woman I was meant to be."

It had come as a complete shock to the college community, and the

quoted several people that they had seen no indications of the

president's double life. He had publicly apologized to both his wife

and his secretary; with whom he'd confessed he'd been having an

affair.

"Maybe this is something, then," Kara said, after we had all crowded

around the microfiche, read the article and whispered over the

possible connections. "There's a little footnote on page 241 that says

her name had special meaning for her. Abigail, because it means 'head

of a monastery and father's joy', and Xavier because it is French for

'new house'. I didn't think it really mattered, but now? It makes me

wonder."

"I don't get the connection," Kelvin said.

"There's more to the footnote," Kara said. "It continues: 'She often

told people that she felt her college was a monastery, a place where

she could remake her student's body and mind, transforming them into

the remarkable women they were meant to be.'"

"The exact words Garrison used to explain his decision to become a

woman," Melissa said, speaking all of our thoughts out loud.

"It's something," Moses said. "Does that biography say anything about

Abigail's death? Where she was buried? Any final last words?"

"Like, did she ever mention she got turned on by guys in panties?"

Kelvin said.

Melissa opened to the back of the book searching for the Index and

skimmed through, speaking out loud as she searched. "I know it

mentioned the year she died. I don't remember much else. Oh!"

"What is it?" Moses said.

"I should have noticed this before."

I looked over her shoulder. She was looking at the Bibliography.

"The author of the book repeatedly cites documents from the Special

College archives — things like personal letters, diaries!"

"Bingo," Moses said.

We hurried to the help desk. The librarian informed us that the

special archives were kept in a climate sealed room, and that it could

only be visited between the hours and nine and five. We looked at the

clock: it was 5:01.

No amount of pleading did any good. We'd have to come back in the

morning, she explained, adding, "it's not safe for boys to be out

after dark anyway. You all should hurry home."

We huffed, hiked our purses up onto our shoulders and left.

After dinner the three of us headed back to our room. I found Mike

Jones there, rapping on the door, eyeing the box from Victoria's

Secret that had been left there. "Hey man," he said. "Go to the

bathroom with me?"

"Sure," I said.

We went down and lined up at the urinals. "Thank God you came home,"

he said, relieving himself. "I was about to burst." I could smell the

whiskey on his breath.

"Not a problem."

"You guys are gonna go through with it, eh?"

"What's that?"

"I saw the Victoria's Secret box."

"Oh. Yeah," I answered. "Pretty much have to if we want to leave the

room."

"Not me. I'm just going to stay in my room. Hide. I don't want to deal

with this shit."

I noticed that he wasn't carrying a bag. "No bag, either?" I said,

avoiding the other word. It felt awkward using it with a guy I didn't

really know.

"No," he said.

"You're taking a big chance."

"I know," he said. "But I just can't. I won't carry one of those."

We finished and went to the sink to wash our hands. Looking at myself,

I suddenly realized that the mirror had been replaced. It struck me as

odd, too early, like somehow it erased Jimmy's existence further from

the world. But then I pictured him there in the dark, crying, his body

growing soft and round, his voice taking on the pitch of a girl's, and

I remembered that he wasn't dead, just alone, terrified, and changing.

The memory gave me a shiver as I tucked my purse under my arm and

thought about Garrison announcing that he's always wanted to be a

woman. Was that where this was headed? Was that where this was taking

me, taking all the men? Either turning us into 'the remarkable women

we were meant to be' or reducing us to what was becoming of Mike—a

terrified little man, afraid to leave his own room?

"I hate this," Mike said when we reached his room. "Always living in

fear."

"I do, too" I answered, giving him a pat on the back. "But as long as

we stick together, it's going to be okay. You don't have to hide in

there alone."

He tried to smile. "Thanks man."

"You can go in a bottle if no one's around," I said. "Stay out of that

bathroom alone."

"I know all about bottles," he said. "But sometimes I get a little

lonely sitting in there all the time."

"Come over anytime, Mike."

"I will."

There's nothing like terror to make people bond, I thought, heading

back to my own room. In fact, it was funny how guys were all bonding

now that we didn't dare go out alone and needed to have other guys

with us. I think the fear that Mike mentioned was a part of it too,

and the shared experiences we were all going through. Whatever, there

was a lot more brotherly concern and compassion going on than I ever

remembered, and it occurred to me as I walked into my room and saw

Kelvin sitting there, with a pair of panties in his hands that in some

ways less obvious than going to the bathroom in pairs our new, fear-

filled lives had caused us to start acting more like women.

*****

We turned on the news. There was another message from the killer. We

had one day to get our ears pierced and start wearing the little,

heart-shaped garnet earrings. We would also be expected to start

wearing barrettes in our hair.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Moses said. "With any luck at all

this will all be over by tomorrow."

"You really think so?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "Let's get stoned."

We got high that night, smoking the last of our weed, drinking the

last of our beer. We laughed and joked about what was next. Put the

panties on our heads and jumped up and down, Devo on the CD Player:

"Are we not men! Are we not men! Are we not men! Are we not men!

I tried to call Melissa sometime around 2 AM, but she wasn't

answering, so I left a long, incoherent message, babbling about

barrettes and panties and nail polish and lip-gloss.

I don't know if I dreamt of Jimmy. When I woke up, all pasty mouthed

and bewildered, I thought I had maybe a flash - Jimmy crying, lying

curled up on his side, his hands between his soft thighs, his fingers

wet.

But I didn't know if it was a dream or not. I had been too stoned. I

was also worried about what I might have said to Mel during my drunken

phone call. I'd been keeping the stuff I'd seen in the purse a secret,

had I given it away? It still seemed important to me, somehow, that I

had to keep what I knew to myself, and I was also worried that people

would resent me, suspect me, for holding out on them.

Moses and I went down to the shower together, taking no chances: We

had our purses and fresh black panties with us as well as our shower

kits. We also left a note for Kelvin in case he woke up while we were

gone. The hall was quiet. A lot of the guys, I think, were dealing

with the whole thing by getting loaded.

After showering and toweling off, I took the little scrap of black

embroidered cloth in my hands, stepped into the panties and pulled

them up, wiggling as the little string slid up my behind. Looking at

them, touching them, the feel of them on my body gave me a little

woody. Ashamed, I quickly pulled on my bathrobe and threw back the

shower curtain. Moses was leaning against the wall in his robe,

looking chagrined.

"I have a feeling I'm gonna be walking funny for a while," he said. We

were both squirming and wiggling as we walked, tugging at the panties

trying to get a less awkward feeling fit.

"I think we're gonna have to quit partying until this thing is over,"

Moses said when we got back to the room.

I nodded.

We talked to the girls. They were going to go back to the library and

work. Moses, Kelvin and myself would run into town, get our ears

pierced and buy the earrings. "You won't have to go all the way into

Cheeverville," Melissa said. "A lot of little girls wear those

earrings. You can find them at the drugstore just outside the

college."

The little town that had grown up outside the college was kind of a

poor man's Mayberry, with a small little main street that featured

businesses largely catering to college students: Barbershops, salons,

pubs and over-priced general stores. The locals were largely poor, and

there had always been resentment against the rich college kids, who

they found arrogant and aloof—which was often true. So, we expected and

got a few snickers when we parked and walked down to the boutique with

our purses over our shoulders. I felt like everyone we passed could

see right through our pants to the little black panties we were

wearing — if they watched the news, they knew what was happening.

I think we all felt small and vulnerable as we sat down to wait to get

our ears pierced. There were a couple women from the town there, and

they grinned at us from over the tops of their magazines, trying to

hide their amusement. Two high-school girls were in the corner,

whispering and laughing, glancing over at us, at our black bags. That

pissed me off more than anything. I hated having little girls make fun

of me, but at the same time I was too ashamed to do anything about it.

Besides, what can a twenty-year-old guy do when a sixteen-year-old

girl in a retainer starts giggling at him? Walk over and hit her with

his purse?

The beautician called me first. "Really terrible what's happening over

there at the college," she said as I sat down.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"Listen," she said, patting me on the hand. "You don't let those girls

embarrass you. This isn't your fault, honey."

"Thanks," I said, wishing she'd just get it over with.

"It's really strange, isn't it?" She continued, wiping my ear with

alcohol and piercing the first one. "I mean, purses and panties! I

can't believe it's for real."

"Believe me," I said ruefully, "it's real."

"I could put temporaries in sweetie," she said, wiping the blood from

my ear. "But we have some of those little heart-shaped earrings in

stock. You want me just to put those in for you now?"

"Whatever," I said. "Sure." It would save time, and the sooner we got

out of town and back to the college, the better.

In no time at all, I was looking at myself in the mirror, little

heart-shaped earrings sparkling in my ears. "My little twelve-year-old

has these exact same ones," the woman said. "And she just loves them."

The high-school girls couldn't help but burst out laughing when I came

to the counter, my purse on my shoulder, my earrings sparkling. Moses

went back for his turn while I stood there waiting to pay, my face

burning.

"You girls be nice," my beautician said in a scolding tone. "It's not

his fault."

Getting my change from the woman I turned and started to go outside to

wait on the street, but I spotted a small group of young town guys on

across the street and blanched at the idea of facing them like this.

One of the girls looked right at me, her eyes sparkling with girlish

malice. "Do you wear tampons?" She asked.

Trying to ignore them, I picked up a magazine and opened it to an

article entitled "How to make your boyfriend a better kisser." The

girls laughed some more. Glancing at the cover, I saw it was Young

Miss, and threw it down.

"Give it a rest," I finally said.

"I think we hurt his feelings," one of the girls whispered to the

other, but loudly enough for me to hear.

"I'll bet we could make him cry," the other said, glancing back at me.

"I really like your purse," the blonde said.

"It's cute," her friend agreed. "It matches your earrings."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I just sighed, sunk into my chair

and looked up at the ceiling, only half consciously squirming to try

and get a more comfortable fit from my panties. They kept chattering

at me, but I just took deep breaths and tried to ignore them.

The girls were called for their appointments and went back, still

laughing, but one of them said, "Now I feel bad for her."

"Maybe we should invite her to a slumber party to make up for it," the