"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

Chapter 16 - "Misapprehension"

     The next little bit is sort of fuzzy to me; impressions more than 
clear memories.  I mean, I knew that I was suddenly surrounded by hugs and 
I heard amorphous words that were more tone than content, but I don't 
remember any particulars.  I was lost in the memories of that night, and 
they were all jumbled up with the nightmare of the Maximum Leader's 
perverse biowar lab, and it was all too . . intense to sort out.  My 
descent into remembered horror was finally interrupted by a Pavlovian 
response to the warning buzzer for the end of the lunch period.  When I 
looked up, all that was left was the core of the Gaggle, and no one was 
giggling.  

     The Amazon twins looked almost as stricken as I felt, standing there 
awkwardly, hands clenching and unclenching at their sides, afraid to reach 
out with a hand I might bite off.  Natalie and Ashley had their arms 
around me, and I saw a blaze in Natalie's eyes at the twins that might as 
well have been a physical force field holding them away.  

     But they were just high school girls, for God's sake.  They were 
going to make worse mistakes than that in their life.  And it would hurt 
others, and they wouldn't be able to take it back, and it would bother 
them forever.  I didn't need to add to that.  Not when my being there was 
all a lie anyway.  Let them earn their guilt fair and square with people 
who deserved more respect anyway.  

     I didn't say anything right away.  I'm not sure I could have because 
my throat was so tight.  But I moved gently away from Natalie and Ashley 
and around the table to the twins.

     "I'm sorry," I said, apologizing when it was clear they thought they 
had been the ones to offend.  "I thought I was . . . dealing with that 
better.  Can we still be friends?"  

     "Oh, God, Jaymi, we're so sorry!" Kari whimpered.  

     "It's over," I declared quietly, comforting them in a turnabout even 
I found ironic.  It started a fresh round of waterworks, which was quickly 
interrupted by a hissed warning from Natalie. 

     "Here comes Jonas," she said, pointing out the vice-principal.  "We 
gotta go or we're going be 'questioned'.  

     The external threat overcame our internal issues in a heartbeat, and 
we all hustled through our cleanup and trip to the restroom for repairs - 
definitely needed repairs.  I ended up getting to my next final a few 
minutes late, which didn't really matter.  It was a Civics class, and the 
teacher was the football coach.  He was so into macho that he couldn't 
even frown at a pretty girl, and of course I didn't need the time.  He 
used that class - with the school's consent - as a way to help his jocks 
keep their grade points in the acceptable range.  

     After I finished - early - I just headed off campus.  I suppose I 
should have hung around to 'prove' to the other girls that I wasn't 
holding any grudges, but I just needed some time to myself.  I was wearing 
that too-short black denim skirt and the dark-red shell, with sandals, and 
that seemed casual enough to allow an outside pastime so I headed to a 
park by the river.  There were benches scattered around, and usually ducks 
smart enough not to migrate any further, so I stopped at a mini-mart to 
get some bread on my way, then bribed some featherheads to be friendly.

     "They'd be just as happy with smaller pieces," a voice suggested.  

     I jumped at the unexpected intrusion, turning quickly to see who had 
spoken.  Somehow, it wasn't much of a surprise to see Sean Adams.  Sweat 
glistened on his trim body - a lot of it shown by the tank top and shorts 
that were all he was wearing, that and a musky, masculine scent that was 
familiar but strangely . . attractive.  I was going to have to meditate on 
why I had chosen that park where despite what I had thought was a desire 
for privacy, I also knew the jocks did their running, but I'd save that 
for later.  

     "Hello, Sean," I said quietly.  

     "Out early today?"

     "Yes.  I got through my afternoon final pretty quickly."

     "Let me guess, Coach Schlieren, Civics, right?"

     "How'd you guess?" I asked, laughing in spite of my mood.  Or at 
least, the mood I had been in.  

     "Spies," he said grandly.  "Spies everywhere."

     The honking ducks had started to crowd around Sean when he stopped, 
no doubt trained to the expectation that anyone in range was a probable 
food source, and they started to peck at the salt on his legs when he 
didn't give them anything.  I laughed and handed him some of my bread, and 
he waded his way through the flock to sit next to me.  True to his 
suggestion, he broke the bread into much smaller chunks, flinging some of 
them far enough away that the mob dispersed a bit.  

     "My spies tell me," he said after a moment, "that you might not be 
doing anything Friday night."  

     "Not really," I replied.  

     "You heard about The Party?" he asked, the capitals obvious in his 
voice now that I knew to listen to them.

     "A little."  

     "Would you like to go?"

     At this point, I knew I should be demure and maybe play just a bit 
hard to get, or use any number of other tricks so that I didn't seem too 
eager.  But this was why I had come back to high school, this acceptance 
was important enough I'd put up with Shaky Jake's Literature final for a 
second time.  I decided I was through playing games - well, that sort of 
game anyway - so I just nodded without any pretense of reluctance.  

     "How about if I come by at, say, 7:00 and we get a bite to eat before 
we go?"

     "That sounds nice," I said, smiling.  

     "Ah, and, where would I come by to?" he asked, grinning.  

     I was staying in a hotel, of course - actually a motel not too far 
from the high school.  That would take a bit of explaining if he really 
wanted to get into it, but if his spies were as good as he claimed, my 
orphan status would be easy to figure out.  Anyway, I just gave him my 
room number and decided to let him ask if he had questions he thought were 
important.  

     To his credit - or the credit of his spy network - he didn't have any 
problem at all when I told him where I lived.  We sat and talked about 
nothing for a while, stretching the remaining bread by throwing smaller 
and smaller pieces, but eventually it ran out.  

     "I suppose I should be going," Sean said.  "I only finished half my 
run."  

     "And half my bread," I said, smiling.  

     "I'll make it up to you, Friday night," he promised.

     "I'll hold you to that."

     "Promise?"

     Uh, oh, all the sudden we weren't talking about bread any more.  I 
blushed and reflexively looked down.  A second later, when I peeked up 
through my lashes, Sean was smiling in way that made his beard imply 
something . . . unrelenting.  It was a challenge, and a promise that 
didn't depend on any corresponding promise from me.  It was also amazingly 
arousing, as my knit shell suddenly made all too obvious.  That didn't 
help my blush at all, but it did trigger a strong, confident laugh from 
Sean.  He didn't say anything, though, just nodding and moving off to 
resume his run.  

     When I got back to my hotel, there were a slew of messages.  That 
filled the rest of the night.  It began with calls to the whole Giggle 
Gaggle, or at least everyone I knew in it.  (Her name was 'Caitlyn', with 
a 'C' not a 'K' by the way - the girl whose name I couldn't remember.  
Apparently she had spelled it out to the clerk.)  They all wanted to make 
sure I was okay.  The cloned sighs when I told them I had spent the 
afternoon with Sean (so identical I wondered if they were all in the same 
room somewhere, talking on cell phones or something), and yes he had asked 
me to The Party, were too relieved to allow the near-obligatory squeal of 
envy.  That came a heartbeat later, of course, after they asked me what 
we had done.  Who'da thunk that throwing bread to ducks was 'so romantic'?  
Apparently every girl in Jackson High, that's who.  

     The phone calls had another purpose as well.  They localized me.  
Before I had finished the first round of calls, there was a knock at my 
door.

     "Who is it?"
    
     "Mary and Kari, the Asshole twins."

     I opened the door to find two sheepish Amazons, hoping and fearing 
and so tense they looked like they were right on the cusp of a fight of 
flight moment.  

     I laughed and invited them in.  "I told you guys all that is 
history."  

     "Thanks," Mary said.  "But we're taking you out to dinner anyway.  
Get your purse."  

     It was an order, but it as a plea as well, and I couldn't turn them 
down.  I might have to delay them, though.

     "I've got all these calls," I said, waving the remaining message 
slips.  

     "Talk on the way," Kari ordered, shoving a cell in my hand.  I was 
beginning to be able to tell them apart, mostly because Kari tended to 
make just a bit stronger statement with her accessories, in this case a 
lace choker that made her neck seem about 6 inches tall.  Mary was just as 
tall, of course, but she had on a heart pendant that was less striking 
even though it was very pretty.  

     Or maybe I was just fooling myself.  For all I knew, I had them 
exactly backward.  

     None of that really mattered, at least not right then.  The tag team 
was in action and I found myself out the door, purse in hand, before I had 
any more chance to argue.  

     "Where do you want to go?" Kari asked me, climbing into the back seat 
of my econobox.  We sure couldn't all fit in their Miata.  

     "I don't care."  

     "They closed that place down.  It got too crowded."

     "Huh?" It slipped out, then I felt like an idiot.  I blushed and 
ducked, my standard response of course, and they laughed their big belly 
laughs.  

     But it was okay.  It made us all even, somehow, all 'real' people who 
made mistakes and then had to deal with them.  In a second we were all 
laughing, and it just built from there.  I don't know if they noticed that 
I drove right to a burger joint that was so ostentatiously a retro teen 
'hangout' that it worked despite the kitsch.  I guess they figured I had 
already found it or something.

     What we also found was the rest of the Gaggle, including those I 
hadn't called yet.  Well, most of them anyway.  Natalie wasn't there, 
but Ashley was.  Once everyone was personally reassured that I was back 
on an even keel after my lunchtime breakdown, conversation arrangements 
entered a continuous mutation stage as people slid in or out of various
groupings.  At one point I ended up alone with Ashley - well, almost 
alone, standing by the juke box within a dozen feet of fifty teens, but 
not really in a conversation with anyone else.

     "I really appreciate what you had to say today," Ashley said softly.

     "Thanks," I replied.  "You do know that I meant what I said about 
making your own choice, right?  You don't have to do something just 
because *I* say so any more than for anyone else."

     She nodded, quiet for a moment, then she said.  "I do love Bobby, you 
know."

     "I'm sure you do.  I envy you."  

     She glanced around the room and smirked, "Most of these girls would 
envy *you*, for snagging Sean."

     "I've hardly 'snagged' him.  We're just going to The Party together."  

     Ashley nodded again, but through her curls I saw just that hint of 
pride again.  I hoped she never lost it.  

     "So, what are you wearing?" she asked, changing the subject.  "You 
didn't let us take you shopping for a dress last night."

     "Lordy, we had already tried on fifty things apiece," I groaned.  "I 
brought a couple of things from, ah, home anyway.  I think I have 
something that will work.  I mean, it's not like, long formals, is it?"  

     "Oh, no.  Nice party dresses, but some of them are WAY short," she 
giggled.  

     "What are you wearing?" I asked in turn.  

     She blushed, but after a minute she lifted her head and said, "Well, 
I've decided that I'm not going to apologize for being, um, for not . . . 
you know.  I've got this white lace dress that looks like a wedding dress, 
except the lace flows right down onto the skirt instead of stopping at a 
bodice, and the skirt is short and . . . tight.  Bobby hasn't seen it, but 
I think it will knock his socks off."  

     "One sockless dude, comin' right up," I said, laughing.

     Ashley dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.  "There's one 
other thing.  My mother has a friend who works with the local community 
theater.  I'm going to borrow a corset!"  

     Inside, a part of me was laughing as reflexes I didn't know I had 
made my voice squeal with pleasure.  "You're not!  Oh, that is so cool."

     "You're wearing one, too, aren't you?"

     I nodded.  "Of course, but at least now I won't be the only one."

     "No chance of that.  I think everyone was jealous after they heard 
about you.  I think several girls are hunting for their own."  

     I laughed and looked around, trying to decide who would and who 
wouldn't.  It would be fun to see all those girls laced too tight and 
suffering until they finally wised up.  Been there, done that, and didn't 
regret it at all.  

     "Jaymi," Ashley said, whispering again, "what about . . . something 
else?"

     "Hmmm?" I was still wondering about how the other girls would be 
dressed. I had three fancy dresses with me - Lord knows most of my 
'official' wardrobe fit that that description - and I was trying to make 
a mental selection.  My ruminations were interrupted quite dramatically 
when Ashley continued.  

     "What about . . doing something with Bobby where I'd still be, like, 
'pure' afterwards?"  

     "What?"  I said, at the last instant remembering to force my own 
voice to whisper.

     "You know, something other than . . . sex."

     Ah, yes, the sexual act that wasn't really sex.  What in God's name 
did I say about that?  I certainly enjoyed it.  The real Jaymi had taught 
me that there wasn't really anything wrong with pleasing your lover, but 
that wasn't really the issue.  Neither Jaymi nor I qualified for 'pure', 
and it didn't have anything to do with broken hymens.  At least, not our 
own.

     Maybe that was the answer after all.  "Look, Ashley, having an intact 
hymen doesn't make you 'pure', nor does a broken one make you a slut.  The 
question is how you see yourself.  I personally wish I still had the 
chance to offer something special of myself on my wedding night, but not 
everyone is the same and God knows I'm not one to judge others.  You 
decide what you want to save, and what you want to give.  Just remember 
that once you make the decision - or at least once you act on it - you 
have to live with the consequences.  That's all I'm saying."  

    That sounded harsh, I think, and I wish I had a better way to put it, 
but it would be just as wrong for Ashley to let *me* do her thinking for 
her as it would be for anyone else to do it.  I wanted her to keep that 
quiet pride I could sometimes see in her eyes, and that meant she had to 
accept her own responsibility.  

     I was gratified to see her nod despite my harsh words.  Before we 
could go any further with the conversation, though, Mary Cameron wedged a 
shoulder between us to reach the juke box.

     "Geez, guys, if you're just gonna stand there like, all night, then 
make way for someone who wants to play something."

     "Oh, sorry," I said, stepping aside, but I saw that Mary wasn't 
complaining as much as checking on me; making sure I wasn't slipping back 
into tears or something.  I caught her eyes, saw the caring question, sent 
her an 'okay' message, got a return receipt smile, and nodded my thanks 
for her concern.  None of which materially impeded her mission of getting 
some music going.  

     Mary's mission was multi-faceted in another way, too.  It was getting 
late enough that we needed to think about getting home, so she chose a 
slower number that was a signal to start wrapping up.  Like a well-oiled 
machine, drinks and leftover food started to disappear, and in the two or 
three minutes the song ran we cleaned up the place.  I didn't remember 
doing that sort of thing when I had been there, but then I noticed that
not everyone was helping anyway.  I recognized a couple of the actual 
waitresses from school, though I didn't know their names, so I figured it 
was as much helping out a friend as any real commitment to cleanliness 
even for the ones who were cleaning up.  

     I ended up driving, of course, but I felt like the Amazons took me 
home.  They insisted on escorting me to my door and each of them gave me 
a direct, 'look me in the eyes' stare at the doorway to make sure I was 
truly okay with all that had happened that day.  I don't know if they were 
more surprised or I was, but I realized I truly was.  Okay, that is.  They 
both wrapped me up in softly huge hugs and then flowed to their Miata with 
leonine grace fully intact.  All's right with the world when you're as 
intensely alive as they were - even when you're as intensely tired as I 
was.    

     I was in a better mood the next morning.  The emotions that followed 
my 'confession' worked to purge some tension I had been holding in my 
heart without realizing it.  Getting everything straight with the girls 
in school had helped too, of course.  What could have been a basis for a 
continuing grudge had instead helped us to become closer.  

     My good mood lasted until I entered my first final for the day, PC 
History.  The official title was 'World History', but Mr. Jefferson, the 
teacher, considered it his duty to indoctrinate us in what was politically 
correct - and he wasn't one to let awkward facts get in the way of his 
opinions.  But it was an easy final with a guaranteed pass as long as we 
ended our essay with, "If not for the envy and jealousy of European 
imperialists, the (fill in the blank) culture would be celebrated today 
for the wisdom and tolerance they demonstrated." 

     It wasn't until I was in the restroom that I realized I wasn't really 
going to attend classes there again anyway.  I could have put anything I 
wanted down, in that final or any other, and it wouldn't have made any 
difference.  My immersion in this 'insider' high school experience was so 
compelling that I was losing sight of what was really happening.  The 
silliness of my desire to 'do well' on my finals was so ludicrous that it 
restored my good mood and I was more than ready to contribute my share to 
the gigglebursts at lunchtime.

     Ashley caught me as soon as I sat down.  "So, what are you going to 
wear?"  

     To the party, of course.  What else?  "I'm thinking about this black 
dress I've got," I explained, "with lace over some sheer panels.  Does 
that sound okay?"

     "It sounds dreamy," Natalie said, leaning over to join our 
conversation.  "Where are you getting your hair done?"  

     "Oh, I didn't think about that.  I was just gonna, you know, do 
something with it."  

     "Girl," Natalie laughed, "if you're going on the arm of Sean Adams, 
you better plan on more than just 'doing something' with it."

     Now this was an area where my previous time in town didn't help a 
bit, but that was okay because I had all the expertise in the world - or 
at least in town - sitting right there with me.  

     "I'll take care of it," Ashley promised, noting my confusion.  "Just 
place yourself in my capable hands."  

     "Yeah, right.  *I* don't want to look like I stuck my finger in a 
light socket," I said, laughing and tugging at her explosion of curls.  

     Giggleburst, but a look of quiet pride in Ashley's eyes again.  
Before she could say anything though, Mary Cameron grabbed my hair from 
behind.  

     "Oooh, yeah.  Let's get her pigtails, and little petticoats for her 
lacy dress, and make her *look* as sweet as Ashley *is*."

     I had a feeling that they wouldn't consider my see-through lace dress 
'sweet', when they saw it, but that would be my surprise.  It turned out 
that Ashley was going to the same salon that Natalie used though, so I 
figured it would be okay.  I agreed to let them take care of my 
preparations, at least those leading up to actually getting dressed.  

     My afternoon final was German.  Ein Problem mit der Wortschatz I had, 
for sure.  I remembered most of the basic rules, but vocabulary slips away 
*so* fast when you don't use a language.  I should have studied more.  Ha!  
I should have studied at ALL, but there I was worried about my grades 
again.  In any event, I certainly didn't get out of *that* final early, 
and by the time I got to the parking lot, it was pretty empty.  

     I didn't mind, actually.  I had really been enjoying my time with the 
Giggle Gaggle, but there was a sort of unrelenting pressure to 
*understand* everything, to 'get the joke' at least as quickly as the 
others.  The constant strain of keeping up with things that were . . . 
less interesting to me now (I hadn't been following the Boy Bands like I 
should have) made a chance to spend some time alone seem pretty nice.  

     The only final I had the next day was in the morning, Journalism, and 
at least those skills seemed to hang around a bit better.  I was able to 
write up a couple of articles from the provided information, covering the 
who, what, when, where, why, and how in workmanlike fashion.  In fact, 
that was my last final, so I was feeling pretty relieved when I got to the 
lunchroom.  

     "Jaymi, sit here," I heard a now-familiar call.  I smiled and slid in 
next to Ashley.  

     "So," she said, "you're through, right?"  

     "I prefer to think of it as, ahem, complete," I sniffed haughtily, 
then laughed with the controlled titter required for admittance to the 
table.  

     "What are you gonna do this afternoon?" Kari asked, looking up from a 
last minute cram in her Spanish book.

     "I don't know, really," I said.  "Maybe I'll go run or something."  

     "In Lakeview park?" Natalie asked oh so casually.
  
     "Probably," I agreed negligently, which set off another giggleburst.  
I was feeling pretty clueless until I remembered who *else* often ran at 
that park.  That hadn't been what I was thinking about.  Honest.  At 
least, I don't think so.  

     I blushed as brightly as any time since the first day, but denying it 
was NOT going to be helpful.  So I ducked behind my hair for a minute 
until the echoes died away.

     "Do you have any like. . . exercise clothes?" Kari asked, her 
eyebrows doing a Groucho Marx thing that was too corny to give offense.  

     I decided I might as well give as good as I got, or at least as good 
as I could.  "Oh, close enough.  I've got this hot pink bikini that should 
keep me from getting . . . overheated."  

     "Damn, Jaymi, if you go running in a bikini, you'll jiggle right out 
of the top," Mary claimed.   Then she took a deep breath to show off her 
own assets and said, "Believe me, I know."  

     Giggleburst, Richter scale 5, held down because a few were self-
consciously blushing instead of joining in. 

     "Hmm, you may be right," I observed pretentiously.  "Maybe I'll find 
some rollerblades or something."  

     "Good idea, Jaymi," Natalie observed with equal gravity.  "That way 
you'll be able to go fast enough to keep out of trouble."  

     "If she wanted to stay out of trouble," Mary observed, "she wouldn't 
be going there!"

     Then her eyes fell and her giggle strangled itself before the echo of 
her comment had died away into the sudden silence.  It took me a second to 
figure out why, and I might not have if I hadn't seen her look sideways at 
me with a guilty expression on her face.

     I patted her hand and whispered, "Don't worry about it.  I know you 
were joking.  So was I."  

     She nodded, but it did hold down the levity for the rest of lunch.  
Well, it wasn't a part of my life that filled me with levity, either.  But 
we all needed to deal with it, in one way or another.