"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

 

Chapter 14 - "Misremember"

Sandy’s eyes never left the blade trembling in the would-be assailant’s hand, but her words were for Vanna, triggered by the soft rustle of fabric behind her.

"I’ll handle this, Vanna," she said, something dark and . . .scary in her tone.

Jacqui didn’t know whether to be more surprised by the slender throwing knife that had appeared in Vanna’s hand, or by the note of fierce anticipation she heard coming from Sandy’s deceptively innocent lips. Her confusion was not lessened when Vanna replied to Sandy in a voice that held a strange note of warning.

"Careful, Sandy, don’t get carried away. He’s not . . . "

Whatever he was or wasn’t was lost in a grunt as the man lunged toward the young woman who confronted him. His thrust sliced only air and he found his hand gripped in Sandy’s slender fingers. His own fingers grew suddenly weak as Sandy pinched a nerve nexus while her other hand deftly slipped the knife from his instantly useless hand.

Then the knife was accelerating rapidly toward the gap between his fifth and sixth ribs, aimed slightly up, slightly back . . .

"NO, Sandy!" Vanna screamed.

It was too little, too late to stop Sandy’s thrust. But it *was* enough to penetrate her combat rage. She managed to twist her hand just enough to keep the blade from the man’s chest, slamming into it with her fist wrapped around the haft of the knife instead. With a dull, popping sound like the cracking of knuckles, they could hear the man’s ribs break - a penalty confirmed in a suddenly halted gasp of breath.

Sandy stepped back, panting, wild-eyed, and trembling with suppressed need. Vanna stepped to her side and took the knife from the shapely brunette’s own loosened grip, then looked at the hunched over thug. "Run away, little man, before you *really* get hurt."

She turned away, pulling Sandy with her, appearing to ignore the defeated adversary. Yet it was clear that she remained very much aware of him when her shoulders relaxed as the man started to slink away.

"It’s okay, Sandy. It’s over," she said, comforting her teammate.

"I’d have killed him if you hadn’t yelled," Sandy whispered.

"But you didn’t," Vanna answered.

"Oh, God, I’d have killed him!" Sandy repeated, burying her face in Vanna’s shoulder. "I did it again. I’ll always be this way, always . ."

"What’s wrong?" Jacqui asked quietly. "She didn’t really hurt him, and even if she had, well, he had threatened us. It would have been justified."

"This time," Vanna said, nodding. "But Sandy has had some . . . bad experiences. Sometimes she, well, at least she’s afraid she might . . . overreact."

"It’s not just a ‘fear’," Sandy whispered. "I DO overreact. I’ve hurt people when it wasn’t justified."

"I, ah, wasn’t aware of that," Vanna said cautiously. "You haven’t done it when the team was together."

"No, I did it on furlough," Sandy said, leaning against the car as the memories for her past started to cover the more recent emotions.

 

I guess you could say that I was a bit of a ‘late bloomer’. Everyone is always telling me I look too young for my age, so I thought I’d just go back to high school for a few days, to see how it’s like from ‘the other side’ now that I’ve, ahem, grown up. Or out.

"I guess you could say I was a bit of a ‘late bloomer’," Sandy said.

I mean, I was always a scrawny kid, and well, let’s just say I didn’t look as good as I do now. In the pecking order of high school cliques, I was never an ‘insider’, never one of the ones people wanted to sit with at lunch time, never one who got invited to the parties. I figured I’d go register for one week, finals week in fact, and claim that I was transferring into the area. Taking finals would be to confirm my proper placement for the next real school year. I figured I could do well enough not to embarrass myself, which is all that mattered since I wouldn’t really be going back in the fall. Besides, I’d already taken and passed the classes anyway.

Yes, I had indeed taken those specific classes, since I decided to go back to my own real high school. I didn’t figure anyone would recognize me. Like I said, I’ve changed, and from an unmemorable nobody the first time around. Of course, I couldn’t very well use the same name, so I picked a name out of the air and registered as . . . Jaymi Fox.

I didn’t have any trouble finding my home room - no surprise there - and gave the teacher my paperwork. She was a Mrs. Anderson I remembered from before, but only vaguely since I hadn’t had any classes with her.

"It’s a bit unusual for someone to show up just for finals," she said.

I knew I’d get really tired of explaining that, but I told her about placing correctly and she nodded. Then she rapped her pencil on her desk and announced, "Class, this is Jaymi Fox. I’m sure you’ll make her welcome."

The hoots and whistles that resulted were certainly *intended* to be welcoming, in a high school kind of way that made me stifle a giggle. Then I realized I was a high school girl myself and was *supposed* to giggle. That was just . . . fun. It was nice not to have to act so mature all the time in order to compensate for looking so young. Now I could just relax and, well, have fun.

You might know, the first person I met was the archetype of what I had always wanted to be, beautiful and blonde enough to call up the image of sunswept beaches. Proud of it, too. She flipped her hair around and I could see her eyes narrow as she considered a decision. Treat me as competition? Or invite me into her own circle where she could, ah, keep me under control.

I suspect it was the whistles of the guys - I really shouldn’t have called myself a fox, that was too easy of an opening - which made her decision for her. I could just see the calculations whirring behind her eyes, finally settling down on the side of a bright smile.

"Jaymi," she said, "sit over here. I’m Natalie Michaels."

Mrs. Anderson gave them a couple of minutes to fling names at me, then she started her announcements. It turned out that the first final would be in trigonometry, which prompted a groan from most of the class.

"Oh, don’t give me that," Mrs. Anderson said with a laugh. "You guys are all honors students, and Mr. James said you’ve been reviewing all week. If, ah, Jaymi isn’t worried, why should you be?"

"Ignorance is bliss," someone called from the back of the room, but it was good natured.

Mrs. Anderson smiled, but kept to her duty and I joined the groans of the others when I found out what I had signed up for. Some vacation!

As soon as she dismissed the class, Natalie Michaels started interrogating me.

"So, Jaymi, where are you from?"

"Montana, most recently, but I’ve moved around some."

"Wow, Montana is way cool," a voice said over my shoulder. A boy’s voice.

"It is in the wintertime," I agreed with a laugh, turning to face him. "Downright cold, in fact."

He groaned, but quickly smiled and pointed a thumb at himself. "Kit Carson."

I’d have made some sort of joke, but he looked like he could have come by the name honestly; a true descendent of the intrepid explorer. He had shaggy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and the sort of whipcord-lean body that suggested enduring toughness.

To cover my, um, distraction, I looked at the boy standing next to him and said, "So, that makes you . . . Jim Bridger?"

This boy, brown-haired and sort of ‘blah’ in features was nonetheless just as noticeable as Kit Carson, though in a different way. He had an athletic look as well, but of the ‘knock holes in the wall’ style. I think he was as wide as he was tall, with none of it fat. His voice had a funny tone, obviously a deep bass but still not quite mature in a way that didn’t imply it would crack or anything. From the looks of his coarse skin, puberty had hit him a long time ago anyway.

"How’d you know?" he asked, smiling. "Of course, I go by the name Nick Thomas around here, but *you* can call me anything you want as long as . . "

He was interrupted by a chorus of laughing ‘friends.’ " . . as long as you call him!"

I blushed, not having seen that coming myself. By the time I got a few more names sorted out, some of which were repeats from the first volley, I had been ‘escorted’ to the trig classroom and we were settling down for a test I had aced just a few years before.

Lordy, what a difference a few years made. I had forgotten WAY too much about that subject. I figured I passed, but I certainly didn’t ace it this time. I was still scribbling frantically when Mr. James called for the test papers, and shook my hand to work out a cramp as I gathered up my things.

"I know," Natalie said sympathetically. "At least we got it out of the way early."

"Thank God for small favors," I agreed.

Natalie led us to the rest room and we took care of the depredations from two hours of twirling our hair, licking our lips, rubbing our foreheads, and other actions taken to cope with the stress of the trig final. Of course, 97 other girls (okay, maybe a dozen, but that was plenty) were jostling for the same mirror space and it took more than a touch of ruthlessness to achieve my own repairs.

No one seemed to mind though, and we joined up as an assault battalion to take the lunchroom by storm. The group split up there to swarm the various lines - I just got a salad and some fruit myself - and I was reminded of the pleasures of juggling a purse, books and a tray while keeping my hair out of everything. That reminded me of another thing I was going to have to take care of, and soon. Clothes.

By the time I had paid for my lunch, several members of the giggle gaggle were congregating at a table guarded by twin Amazons I hadn’t met yet. Puberty had definitely made their acquaintance, though. To their credit, they hadn’t tried to deny it. Their clothes and hair (dark, wavy, and shoulder length) were well within the range of their contemporaries, just scaled up by about 25%, in ALL dimensions.

As I approached, the group scrunched as required to make room.

Smiling, I looked at the two giants and lifted an eyebrow in question.

That was all the excuse they needed to launch into an obviously well-practiced duet.

"Hi, I’m Mary . . "

" . . and I’m Kari . . ."

"Cameron. We’re . . "

" . . . twins."

This was where I was supposed to go, "Oh, really?" Or make some other comment on the obviousness of their twinness. But I surprised them by groaning - theatrically, with the back of one hand held limply to my forehead.

"What’s wrong?" they asked. At least, I think they both spoke. The unison was so perfect one might have been lip-synching.

I smiled to make it clear I wasn’t really hurting, then said, "I though the TRIG final would be my hardest test, but I just know you’re going to expect me to tell the two of you apart."

"It’s easy," one of them claimed, launching another pre-set program.

"My sister is WAY taller than me," they finished exactly in sync.

That was more than enough excuse to set off the whole Giggle Gaggle, and I found myself joining in. Natalie had caught up to us by that time, and she quickly made me regret my initial cattiness toward her. I had thought she was one of those who would cut other pretty girls down as a way to claim the top of the pecking order, but while she was clearly the leader of this group, she was pretty nice about it. She didn’t let the other girls pester the newbie - that would be me - with an avalanche of personal questions. Instead, she gave a quick recap of my taking-finals-for-placement story, and then steered the conversation to other things. Important things.

"Did you see what Kit did?" she asked conspiratorially.

"What?" (Twelve crystalline voices in girlish unison, complete with breathless anticipation.)

"He got his ears pierced! Both of them!" she squealed. (I had noticed his earrings - simple gold studs - but hadn’t known it was new.)

"Ooh, how COOL!" (Cool, cool, cool . . . echoed from the walls)

"Yeah," she agreed. "He told me he was going to do it. I guess he figured they wouldn’t kick him out of finals, so he did it a week early."

Someone I didn’t know said, "No way Nick would, like, do that."

"No way," the twins - well, one of them at least - agreed. They both laughed. I got the impression that they felt they had a . . . special insight into the burly guy who was apparently Kit Carson’s sidekick.

"So, how WAS the trig final?" another girl asked. I didn’t remember her name, but that was hardly unusual. Unfortunately, she looked so much like a younger Vanna (*slightly* younger, sorry Vanna) that I knew I’d have a hard time getting it right when I *did* learn it.

"Oh, God, don’t ask," said a redheaded girl I did remember. Her name was Ashley Kincaid, and she was the only girl there who had more hair than I did, tightly curled and framing an infinite number of freckles that she had the sense not to try to cover with heavy makeup.

"Oh, quit, Ashley," Natalie said, snickering and poking her. "We all know you aced it. You’ve been sucking up to James since day one."

"Hey, I had the same questions on my test that all the rest of you did."

"Yeah," one of the twins said - I think it was Mary because she was sitting on the right and I hadn’t seen them switch - "but the rest of us didn’t get that, like, ‘special tutoring’ you’ve been getting."

"Oooh, that’s nasty!" Ashley countered, but she laughed and I thought I could hear pride in her voice. Certainly she wasn’t offended.

I was glad to hear a warning bell, because I really did NOT want that line of conversation to be explored further. Things had changed a LOT since I was in that school. I had to laugh though, as I gathered my things, because I realized it might just have been that I was clueless when I had been a . . an outsider.

For the - last, thank God - final for the day, Natalie and I were headed in different directions. Before she left, she said, "Some of us are getting together this evening to study. You wanna come?"

"Oh, that would be great," I said, but I shook my head. "But I can’t. I have to do some shopping. I’m afraid, well, I think I’d like to be a little more casual tomorrow."

"Why? You look terrific!"

"I look overdressed," I said.

Natalie snickered and said, "Well, maybe the heels are a bit much."

I had worn a tan skirt and a green blouse, which were part of my SMITE wardrobe and a bit ‘grown-up’ for a high-school junior, plus some heels that were *definitely* out of place. I should have known, but I think that was another thing that had changed since I had been there. The Gaggle wasn’t into grunge or anything, but jeans, shorts, or a denim skirt were definitely more appropriate than a nice skirt, and if anyone else was wearing as much as an inch of heel, I had missed it.

"Well," Natalie said, copying my early theatrical groan and limp wrist, "it’s just my duty - as class president, did I mention that? - to help out the new students. So I’ll have to *force* myself to go shopping with you instead of study."

I laughed. "Oh, you don’t have to do that."

"No, no," she countered. "It just wouldn’t be right not to."

"What about the study group?"

"Oh, we’ll study. We’ll just do it in the mall. I’ll let them know and we’ll meet after this next final."

I nodded as the warning bell sounded and she hurried off to her class. I guess I’d like to claim that I was distracted by the thought of going mall-crawling with the Giggle Gaggle. That was what I had wanted when I went back to high school, right? Anyway, Biology didn’t go nearly as well as Trig. But I probably passed it. If I really *were* going to attend that school again, it looked like I was shaping up to be a very ordinary ‘B’ student, not top-ten geek like I had been before.

It turned out that the twins had been in that final too, and I found them very useful. Not on the test, which I think they found more difficult than I did, but in the obligatory restroom break afterwards. They made excellent blocking backs. Of course, the downside of that was that they took up half the mirror by themselves.

I kept reminding myself that the tests didn’t really matter, that this was all just ‘fun’ as I walked to the parking lot to meet Natalie. I was in for that most quintessential of high school girl rites of passage, a trip to the mall. I just hoped it would be less intimidating than that Biology test.

Natalie, the Amazon twins, and Ashley were waiting for me when I got to the parking lot. This was clearly the core of the Gaggle and I had just as clearly been taken under their collective wing at least until I got settled in a little.

"Wow, Jaymi," Natalie began as I approached, "you look like you’ve been hit by, like, a truck."

"No, just a Biology final," I grimaced. "Sorry I’m late."

"No prob," Natalie said, then changed the subject. "How long have you been in town? I mean, do you know how to get to the mall?"

"Duh!" I answered, laughing. I worried for a second that she might have felt insulted, but Mary and Kari laughed even louder than I did; big, belly laughs that were spilling over with real humor, and in the face of that, Natalie just had to join in.

I had thought that Marilyn’s team encompassed just about all the aspects of feminine sensuality there were - chosen deliberately by Marilyn, of course. But we missed at least one, as demonstrated by the Cameron twins. They were marvelously sensual in a way that wasn’t really sexual. Until I met them, I don’t think I really understood the difference. They were like great, tawny cats; alert, very aware of everything going on around them, ‘sensual’ in that aspect that says their senses were hyper-sharp and they really enjoyed the messages they were receiving. It just didn’t carry with it an overt sexuality. It was pure, animal *aliveness* without lust.

They had it under control, I realized. In the lunch room they had giggled with the rest of the Gaggle, but out in the open, it was as though they had been released from a leash. They took great, satisfying breaths of the fresh air and bellowed it back out in hooraw laughs that were unapologetically too big to contain.

"I told you," Ashley said to her blonde friend, then turned to me to explain part of the humor. Which was a good thing because it was clearly too much for my little joke.

"They were, like, worried about how we would get to the mall, figuring that you had your own car and all. I told them you looked like a girl who had her priorities straight and wouldn’t, like, have any problem."

"Not in finding a mall," I agreed, ducking my head a little. I knew where it was because I had *lived* there, of course, but I let her mistake stand. It was a little white lie, but it still made me feel a little bit bad, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. This whole trip - my whole life for that matter - was based on a network of lies and I was trapped in it.

"We still think Ashley should ride with you," Mary/Kari said. (Actually, I think it was Kari, because I thought I remembered that she was the one wearing little gold heart-shaped earrings. Or maybe it was the KC I saw on her notebook.)

"Fine," I nodded. Ashley smiled compliantly at me. She was clearly overshadowed by her bigger and more outgoing friends, but I could see why they liked having her around. Aside from being heart-stoppingly beautiful in a girl-next-door sort of way, she had a twinkle in her gray eyes that showed a lot of intelligence - enough that she didn’t have to prove it all the time.

Natalie had been leading us toward the parked cars as we talked and I saw that my rented econobox was one of three vehicles left in the junior’s section of the lot. The other two were a GMC pickup that was a couple of years old and really neat little Miata. None of them would hold us all, so we were clearly going to have to convoy the couple of miles I knew it was to the mall.

Then I had to reset my prejudices again. I had assumed since Ashley was the designated rider that the other two vehicles belonged to the Natalie and the twins. Expecting Natalie to head for the Miata, I almost bumped into her when she angled toward the truck.

"Oops, sorry."

She snickered and flicked a shared-memory grin at the others. "A lot of people are surprised I drive a pickup. It’s my brother’s. He’s away at school and they don’t let them have personal cars the first year, so I inherited it."

"And I *know* you were not suggesting that we’re, like, too big to fit in that little Miata," Mary(?) said.

"Oh, no, of course not," I assured them, but it was drowned out by a giggleburst. Well, I deserved it.

The others patiently waited until Ashley and I were ready to go before heading out. Natalie took the lead, as expected, but the twins let me go in the middle, just in case.

"Was the Biology final all that bad?" Ashley asked as we drove along.

"Not really. It’s just that I hadn’t studied some of that for a while."

"Um," she began, hesitantly, "then why are you taking that final? I mean, if you’ve already completed that course, then it should be on your transcript. Why do you need credit for it here?"

Well, so much for my cover story. When in doubt, lie with the truth. "Well, actually I dropped out for a year. Late in my junior year. I’m a year older than I would have been. I need credit for my last junior year classes as well as approval to enter next year as a senior."

Ashley looked at me gently and asked, "Do you mind telling me why you dropped out?"

I had seen this coming, and this was the ‘lie with the truth’ bit, since I had actually finished high school. But that lie was a setup for the next truth.

"My parents died, courtesy of a drunk driver," I said bluntly. That took care of any issues with meeting my family or anything, at least.

"Oh, I’m so sorry!" she said, looking like she was ready to cry at being so thoughtless. Like she could have known.

"It’s okay," I said, smiling and patting her hand. "I’m dealing with it."

She just nodded, but I knew she was embarrassed. Before we could straighten anything out though, we were at the mall.

Her quietness didn’t seem unusual to the others so they poured out of the other cars with all the energy of hungry wolves descending on sleeping sheep. Mallworld, here we come!

 

(continued in next part)

 

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SMITE 2 - Pheromone Pharmacopia © 2001 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.