Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie and her mutant friends roadtrip in the tradition of National Lampoon's Animal House, she discovers an unknown power while saving a childs life and gets her fifteen minutes of fame and then some.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents and such is accidental or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005- 2006. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for details. Share and enjoy.

p.s. I need a new agent & agency real soon, I think they’re on to m ... I am very happy with my agency and will never ever leave them, Master.

Adult Content Warning: this chapter is a bit racy comparied to the previous six. Those uncomfortable with lesbianism or other adult sexual topics are advised. You’ve been warned. Actually, its pretty tame stuff and not graphic at all, but its best to play it safe. If you’re on this website, you know what to expect, so there.

~ Actually with any luck this warning will boost my readership skyhigh. Oops, didn’t mean to say that outloud. ~

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 7-Road Trip

Madison WI and the four-state area (WI, IL, MN, IA), August 31st thru September 09, 2006

December 13, 2006 nearing Boston on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 4:30am EST

I should have set my watch to Eastern-time back somewhere in Indiana, but did I, noooo. Oh well, no harm done, except nearly going to NYC instead of Boston when they split the train. Thankfully my cycle had the proper tags, so I only had to run with my panniers in my nightwear to change berths. I’ll have to send the Conductress, who caught the berthing error and woke me, a nice thank you gift. I wonder if she likes music. Good thing I shipped most of my stuff ahead and could travel light.

Mind you, it gave the passengers who were awake a good show; I should have slept in my bra. Why they put me in an NYC bound berth, I’ll never know. Ticket clerks, Arrrg! Tried going back to sleep but too excited about Whateley, and my nipples were, um, hyper-sensitive. It was a good thing I only had to run through a half-dozen sleeper cars, now I know why most women wear bras. It’s not just for the support.

~Why does my new body have to be so, um, responsive? I’ll need a shower before I dare step out in public. ~

More than anything, the reason I’m on this train tonight was the fallout from The Gang of Four’s Labor Day road trip. Maybe I can nap, during my short layover in Boston.

The Labor Day weekend was when I discovered how to access one of my mutant powers and the day my life nearly went to hell. The Gang of Four decided, well the Gang of Three decided and Ms. Newby acquiesced, to take a road trip around the holiday weekend. I’d completed Girl 101 and Woman 101 so was now into the advanced courses. No, I don’t mean the one-on-one tutoring I hinted at with Carrie. I mean practical, everyday stuff like pretending to love children, especially your best friend’s charming twin two year olds who just learned to say ‘no’ and say it all the time for any reason — in stereo, euh! The womanly art of claiming you really prefer salads and fish over ten-ounce, New York Strip steaks with home fries. The womanly art of politely turning down the advances of a man who’s had too much too drink and who’s bigger and stronger than you. You get the picture.

* * * *

We voted on which vehicle to take.“ How about Red’s F250 crew cab?” I asked.

“Lots of room but piss-poor gas mileage,” said Gin.

“My Focus is cheap to run and handles us tall girls with ease,” I suggested.

“Would you sit in that back seat all day, even if you were my size?” Gin replied.

”And it’s green, eeeuh!” Red said sticking her long, sexy tongue way out.

~ Maybe I will take her up on that offer? ~

Gin’s PT Cruiser got some votes.

“It’s retro kewl and holds nearly as much as a minivan,” Carrie said.

“Looks like a street rod sort of, definite cruising potential,” said Gin; Red and I vetoed that.

“On the count of three, Red; one, two but it’s a Chrysler, eew yuck!”

“You both have Fords, you’re biased,” Gin said.

“That’s redhead bashing, shame on you,” I scolded.

Carrie’s Grand Caravan might have worked, but Sara needed it for a seminar that weekend, in Dubuque of all places.

“Sorry, girls, but I need the van, can’t miss the 10th Annual UMRVMC.”

“Huh?” we all said; I was tempted to sing, “UMC, VMC, MOUSE.”

“Upper Mississippi River Valley Mutant Conference; got to keep up in the field. Doctor Otto plans on attending, so we’ll have time to discuss your case in depth. In fact, we’re presenting a joint paper on your transformation,” she sounded excited.

“Won’t that tend to undermine all the effort we’ve taken to protect Moi?” My Miss Piggy was not the best, but she got the point.

“You’re safe, this is a closed conference, and you’re just a case number, no names or addresses,” Dr. Sara assured me.

“But what if someone makes the connection? They know you work at the University Hospital. What if someone comes and asks a staffer if any new mutant patients were admitted in early July, 2006? They might put the puzzle together, given enough pieces.” I was not assured my identity was safe.

“That’s why I issued you the student researcher ID. Lots of people at the hospital know you as a student researcher; just a handful know you as a patient of mine and recent mutant. Excluding Alex, only those in this room know your whole story.”

“Mom’s right, Joanie, I don’t even know your old address, just your former name,” said Carrie, in defense of her Mom.

“That’s okay then, I guess. Sorry but I’m touchy on this subject, ladies.” I calmed a bit. “Back to our discussion, we still don’t have transport for our road trip.”

“Simple, take Gin’s PT Cruiser this time and Red’s 4X4 pickup for the Christmas break trip. Switch off between your Focus and Carrie’s Caravan for any fall day trips,” my doctor said authoritatively.

The Gang of Four, trumped by Sara. It did break the deadlock though, bless her.

“You’ll love it, Joanie. The girls had a great time last year, UP, skiing wasn’t it?” she continued,

“Yah, it was a blast. You should have been there, Joanie. Gin’s a demon on the slopes, and Red made other women green with envy,” Carrie said.

“If you recall, last Christmas I wasn’t exactly qualified,” I said.

“You do now; it really was a wild time and the men were just so hunky,” said Red.

~Red said the men were ... hunky? ~

“Red nearly turned straight, the guys were so hot, but we got her back on the bi-wagon, didn’t we, Red?” Gin said and smirked.

“Ms. Sara, did your daughter always keep such low company?” I asked, getting into the spirit.

“Why no, Joanie, the year before I came along on the ski trip, and no one stayed sober or celibate with either sex,” Sara said straight faced. “I’d tag along more often, but the girls say I’m a bad influence.”

Sara licked her lips and struck a sensual pose. The room suddenly felt much warmer.

“I’m surrounded by perverts, deviants and degenerates, oh my! Where do I sign up?”

“Oh you!” they chorused.

* * * *

December 13, 2006 Boston MA, departing Amtrak Lake Shore Limited for station, 5:05am EDT

Cue music: ‘Wowie Zowie’ F. Zappa, Freak Out/Mothers of Invention with Frank Zappa 1966; ‘Road Runner’ sung by Joan Jett, The Hit List 1991, “I Drove All Night’ written for and sung by Roy Orbison 1992 release.

To enhance your reading experience, may we suggest the above music to put you in the proper mood? I know this isn’t normal for a diary/journal/whatever, but it’s mine and I’ll do as I want. -- Sticks out mental tongue in triumph -- I’d better check that my cycle got offloaded; I’ll need it later today.

“Oh conductor!”

* * * *

The road trip was, well, a trip. I, we all had a blast. Ghod those gals know how to have fun. I won’t describe all the crazy stuff that went on but to satisfy your craving for the more intimate details, let me leave you dear diary/journal/whatever with a few tidbits. I found that six foot two inch Amazons are far softer and cuddly than one would first imagine and very flexible. Mind you, don’t turn down busty brunettes; they can be very sharing, particularly when it comes to cute Asian girls. Almost sounds like something that Wholeman person writes for those TG adult fiction websites. I’m not saying one way or another if certain well known ... positions and techniques were employed by yours truly and company. Just know we had a lot of fun and leave it at that.

I know we passed through Galena IL, at least once, and we did stay a night in Davenport IA. I think we were in Red Wing MN the next night, or was it Winona, and La Crosse for another, but the whole trip is a blur. Ghodess, can those girls party. That and there were um, other distractions, giggle. There’s another giggle, what’s with that?

So here we are Labor Day morning, sticky, sweaty and our hair a collective mess.

“Hey it’s not my fault we forgot the hair conditioner and detangler spray. That wasn’t my job,” said Carrie.

“I still think we should stop at a drugstore or someplace,” I said for the twentieth time. My hair was by far the worst. “Damn you, Gin and Carrie, for your pixie cuts.”

“That’s what you get for letting your hair hang to your butt, Joanie. Red’s almost as bad off as you, what with her hair nearly as long. I don’t hear her bitching,” said a smug Gin.

“That’s only because Joanie’s letting me play competitive sticky fingers with her, while I rest my hung-over head on her oh so comfortable twin pillows. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. A little higher, Joanie, ah that feels nice.”

“Not that I’m unhappy with the ... Ah ... oh ... oh ... OH Ghod ... ooh that was good, situation here, Red, dear, but if it wasn’t for those two pitchers of margaritas none of this,” I gestured widely at our disheveled selves with my free hand, ”would have happened, certainly not as easily on my part.”

“Joanie, it was four pitchers, and Gin kept topping off your drink, when you weren’t looking,” Carrie said embarrassed.

“But I was topping off Joanie’s too,” said Red.

“No wonder I got drunk, sort of.”

“Sort of drunk?” said Red incredulously. “You were stewed to the gills, when we left the bar last night.”

“Yeah, but it wore off really fast. I barely had a buzz on by the time we walked back to our motel room,” I explained.

“With all you drank, no way you were sober,” Gin said.

“My new body burns off most drugs very fast. Ask me about it next time I have my period, even the prescription stuff is useless.”

“But that means you were ... “, started Red.

“Faking it like a pro.” They stared at me like I was a space alien. “It gave me the perfect excuse to, um ... let my hair down. Don’t look at me like that; all of you’ve been on me to loosen up, so I took you at your word. I have no regrets just don’t expect this every time.” They seemed okay with my revelation. “Okay ladies, what’s next on the menu?”

“Oh ... You,” said Red, and I was.

Good thing the PT has really dark window tinting, that and a generous amount of rear seat leg room. If Red was a recruiter for the LGBT community, I was seriously considering a lifetime membership.

“Red, uh ... oh ... AH, stop. Please.” She was definitely an artist. “Another time okay? We’re getting into a city, and we don’t want to frighten the natives.”

“Spoil sport,” Red said grinning from ear to ear. “I was just being neighborly.”

“Well howdy neighbor, glad tah meet yah.” I gave her my best hug and kiss.

Purely G rated mind you, okay pg-13, well nearly R, satisfied?

We got a motel on Prarie Du Chein’s main drag, then got an early lunch. “So what’s on for the rest of the day?” I asked, my stomach filled and my hair finally under control. If you’d been asked like Red to stop and pick up some conditioner and hair detangler the way I asked, you’d have done it too. I was starting to get the hang of being a jailbait temptress, shame on me. Still yah gotta use the tools at hand. We drove to the state welcome center that’s just off the US 18 bridges over the Mississippi River, to get some ideas and maps.

I suggested Effigy National Monument, just a couple miles north of the Iowa end of the bridge, “Great scenery, very secluded and quiet,” I pointed out.

The secluded and quiet they liked, the 400 to 600 foot climbs up and down the bluffs on the other hand… We decided to look for a public beach or pool on the Iowa side and sunbathe.

We got to the welcome center and found the grounds full of dignitaries dedicating an addition to the faculties. You know the deal; bored jaded news crews filming bored but smiling politicians with bored spouses and extremely bored children all waiting for the ribbon cutting ceremony to end. Nothing unusual except this ceremony was bigger than normal. The minor additions dedication was an excuse to announce a joint Iowa and Wisconsin effort to stop a planned upgrade and deepening of the locks and navigation channel that nobody but The Army Corps of Engineers and the barge companies wanted. The usual assistant state tourism director and mayor VIPs were instead the heads of both states DNRs, both state Governors and three US Senators plus their assorted wives and children. Problem was, there are no other bridges for miles either way -- we had to cross here.

We got some brochures and fixed our hair and makeup -- hey this is a road trip, and we have an image to uphold. We soon were ready to go, not the easiest with all the hoopla. Heard the expression ‘a good deed never goes unpunished’? I was about to find out the truth of it in spades. We were about to get in the PT when I saw something that still gives me nightmares. Two children had wandered away from the ceremony and started a game of tag dangerously close to the busy US highway. I heard the squeal of truck and car brakes, horns blasting and a child screaming. In their flight from boredom, the younger of the two, a ten year old girl, had run into the road.

I was horrified; she didn’t have a chance. Next I know, I’m running towards her screaming out my frustration. As I ran headlong to her, I noticed the traffic had inexplicably stopped, for that matter everything around me seemed either stopped or moving very slowly. The closer to me, the slower it moved. I grabbed the now motionless girl from a scant ten feet in front of the truck, smoke and dust surrounding its tires but also not moving. I got hold of her, and she came out of her torpor screaming. I pulled the girl into my arms and ran back with her to the safety of the grassy picnic area at the tourism center. I collapsed exhausted and everything started moving again.

I looked in her terrified blue eyes. “Thank Ghod you’re okay, little girl.” I said holding her tight as I gasped for breath. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to play in the street?”

The girl stopped screaming and started kissing and hugging me then said excitedly, “You’re my very favorite bestest new friend in the world -- that was so kewl what you did -- can we do it again -- what’s your name, pretty lady I’m Melissa I’m ten years old I’ll be eleven in four days -- can you be my big sister -- I like your pretty red hair its so long and shiny -- would you like to borrow my ponytail clip?”

~ I thought I talked too much; when does Melissa ever get a chance to breathe? ~

I was calming her down, as my three friends ran up to help us and the older boy she’d played with. Unfortunately for me, the cameras had been pointed in the general direction of the near tragedy, and everything got recorded. Everything: the kids nearing the road, the girl running into traffic, the strangely distorted image of a tall, shapely young woman running toward the children as the images surrounding that woman seem to twist and warp and well look like a surrealist painting made sense in comparison. They even got some color still photos of me in action.

~Oh great, I’ll end up a pinup poster on some horny teen’s bedroom door.~

Next I remember the six of us — Gin, Red, Carrie, Melissa, her brother Eric I learned later, and I -- were surrounded by the press, two governors, three US Senators, a squad of unhappy state troopers, and one extremely grateful thirty-something mother.

“How did you do that?” the woman practically screamed at me, in her excitement.

Then she’s keeling on the grass next to me, hugging and kissing her kids, who are hugging and kissing us ladies. I tried to answer the woman.

“I saw them run toward the road, and I had to do something,” I said very quickly; I was still pumped with adrenaline and a bit in shock.

A short sixtyish man with graying red hair walked up to me and said in a soft voice, “Do you know what you just did?”

“I just helped a girl out of trouble,” I managed to say.

~Do they think I’d tried to harm her? ~

“You saved the life of my only granddaughter, the daughter of the Governor of Iowa.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t too articulate at the moment, still in shock I guess.

“I’m United States Senator Joseph P. Williams of Iowa, and I am very glad to meet you brave lady. And you are?” he asked and very graciously, I might add.

“Joanie?” I replied as if I wasn’t sure who I was. Then I started crying, and I passed out.

I came to in the back seat of a stretch limo, the rest of The Gang of Four sitting facing me looking very concerned.

“Thank Ghod, you’re okay,” Carrie said as I opened my eyes and sat up. “They let us carry you into the Senator’s limo to check you out. They wanted to call the paramedics, but Red and I showed them our RN credentials, and Red and Gin wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What are we going to do with you, Joanie? Do you realize the trouble you caused saving that girl’s life?” Red was squeezing my hand and smiling, but I could see she was worried. She paused. “They ‘made’ us and by that revelation, I think you’ve been made too.”

“Who or what was ’made’ by who or whom and what does it have to do with us or we?” What was Red talking about, and why had my grammar gotten so strange?

“The VIP’s and the press ‘made’ us, that is, they recognized Gin as Ginseng Glory and myself as Big Red. We’re known mutant super-heroines and public service spokespersons, after all.”

“I remember, you did some spots and billboards for The Wisconsin Dairymen’s Association, and Gin did a TV ad for the Department of Tourism,” I said.

“Put the pieces together, Joanie; the press already has. Think of it from a purely news-biz point of view. A gorgeous,” I blushed, “tall young woman saves a little girl from certain death, the daughter of a state governor and possible Presidential contender, on TV in front of dozens of press and dignitaries, in a manner that can only be explained by that young woman having mutant superpowers. She is seen immediately afterward in the presence of two known Wisconsin mutant supers, and she does it all clad in a skin-tight, deep v-neck leather crop top, leather mini skirt, and silver trimmed high heel cowboy boots -- very photogenic. Need I say more?” Red finished.

“I’ve just outted myself. Crap!”

“You said, Sweetie, not me,” Gin replied. “Just wait until you see the tight shot one of the camera men got of your lace panties when your skirt slid up after you collapsed on the grass. Oh, if it makes you feel any better, the footage went national about half an hour ago. You’ve been unconscious for 45 minutes,” Gin concluded.

“Kill me now!”

There was a knock on the door.

“Is Joanie okay? My daughter is really worried.” It was the governor’s wife.

“What do you want to do, Joanie? Can’t hide forever,” Gin said.

“Let them in and only them,” I said wearily.

Red opened the door carefully, letting in Melissa and her mom, then gave the press who were straining the police line a look that said, “Come any closer and prepare to be filleted.”

“Joanie, my daughter has something to say to you.” She waited then Melissa spoke.

“I’m so very sorry I was careless and ran out in the road, and you had to save me ‘cause no one could have got to me in time, and I would be dead now, and all those TV people will bother you and make your life a mess, and Its All My Fault!” She started crying.

~Good Ghod, she even apologizes nonstop! ~

I was feeling a bit queasy, ~Strange I hadn’t noticed it earlier, nerves? ~ I thought.

“Does she always talk like this?” I said and made a gesture with my hand opening and closing very quickly.

“Yes, Joanie, I’m afraid she does.” She had a wistful smile on her face.

~Oh well, in for a penny... ~

“That’s great because I like to talk a lot too, Melissa.” She grinned so I said, “What do your friends call you, Melissa? All my friends call me Joanie,” I said, gesturing at Melissa, her mom and The Gang of Three.

“I can be your friend, Joanie?” She grinned widely. I nodded, and then it hit her. “You’re friends with Big Red and Ginseng Glory; oh that’s just soo kewl!”

If she was anymore excited, she’d have exploded. She was bouncing in her seat.

“Wow, Joanie! Oh, sorry everyone calls me Mel. Hi Joanie, I’m Mel. Can you come over to my house, and we can have a sleepover and watch TV and make smores and popcorn and give each other makeovers? I can braid your long hair if you like, and I’m learning to use makeup -- you’re so very pretty, I bet you can teach me lots -- how did you get so tall -- I really like your clothes, they’re so kewl -- my mom won’t let me wear leather yet she says when I’m older, but it looks so good on you -- I wish I had nice boobies like you and mommy and ... “

“Whoa, slow down Mel!” I said.

“She called me Mel, Mom; Joanie called me Mel!” Melissa started bouncing again.

~ Is she a poster child for the sugar industry? ~

I turned to her mom. “I’m a little embarrassed here, but I don’t know your name,” I admitted.

“Barbara Anne Williams-Johnson, I’m Governor Bob Johnson’s wife, the governor of Iowa. Please call me Babs, all my friends do and you certainly earned that right today,” she said warmly.

“Babs not Barb or Barbie?” I asked.

“Do I look like a Barbie doll?” She gestured along her pleasingly shaped but petite body. “Babs is because I was constantly wearing this sleep shirt when I was in my teens. I refused to sleep in anything else.”

“Babs Bunny, from the Warners cartoons, I have a Pinky and the Brain pocket t-shirt, myself.” Babs smiled and stifled a laughed.

I felt someone tugging on my arm. It was Mel.

“Joanie, please can you come to my house for a sleep over?”

~ Ooh, she made these puppy dog, kitten in the rain eyes at me. ~

“But my friends and I have to get back to Madison tomorrow.” I tried to let her down lightly.

Mel frowned then grinned all the wider, if you can believe. “I have this oh so kewl idea, have your friends come too, we have lots of room. Oh my, you’re friends with Big Red and Ginseng Glory, they’re just the greatest mutant superheroes -- wow you must be a mutant superhero too, except you’re all girls, so you’re all mutant super-heroines, Mommy, can I have a mutant super-heroine sleepover pleeese!” Mel was hugging me so hard, I was amazed.

“Wow yourself, Mel, you sure are strong. You sure you’re not a mutant super heroine and don’t know it yet?” Mel giggled at that and started bouncing again, but at least she shut up for ten second straight.

“But they have to go home tomorrow, sweetie,” Babs said.

“Daddy can fix it and Grandpa Joe too. Daddy’s a governor and Grandpa’s a Senator, and Daddy says Grandpa knows where all the bodies are buried -- that’s why he’s such a good senator, and they can fix it with your moms and dads and schools and stuff, and you can come to my house, and we can do girl things, and in four days it’s my birthday, and you can be at my party... “

“Mel, it’s not just up to you, maybe Joanie’s friends have families who’d miss them if they don’t see them,” Babs was trying to help.

“But Mom!” Mel shouted, “Joanie’s my very bestest friend, I’ll just die if she can’t come over and...” Mel was bawling, Babs didn’t look too good and yours truly?

“Okay, okay, I’ll come, I don’t know how but I will, promise.” Now I was crying and I felt a sharp twinge in my lower belly.

~ I haven’t felt this bad in a month, Month? Let’s see, cramps, mood swings, feeling queasy; July 03 to September 04 is sixty-two days less four days for my transformation and one or two more to fully recover makes fifty-six days which is twenty-eight times two. Oh joy, my “friend” is back, just one more reason to hate math. ~

“Babs, can I have a word with you please.”

“Mel, can you give me and Joanie a moment dear? What is it, Joanie?” she asked sweetly.

“As much as I like to not disappoint Mel, I don’t know if I’d be the best company the next few days.” Babs looked at me strangely, I whispered in her ear. “I just started my, um you know, today. I only realized it now what with the crying and cramps I felt.”

“Then we have no choice,” she said out loud. I was relieved. “We’ll just have to put you up for the week.”

“What?” I gave her a look of utter surprise, this was unexpected.

“I just started my period today too, and mine are a bitch.”

“Mommy!”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t use such language.” Babs slapped the back of her own hand. Mel giggled. “Joanie, if anyone deserves to be pampered, it’s you dear. Your friends are welcome too. My husband can have a state plane fly you home together or individually, as necessary. I ... we owe you.”

What could I say now? Either way was a problem.

“This has to be a group decision, you understand, Mel, Babs?” They nodded in absolute unison.

~Like mother like daughter I guess, freaky. ~

“Babs, can you promise me I won’t, correct that, we won’t,” I pointed at The Gang of Four and Mel, “be set upon or set up to the media? I’m not interested in becoming famous, and Mel here, it wouldn’t be right to drag her into this,” I said very frankly.

“I can guarantee that, Joanie. Between Bob and my dad, no one will bother any of us,” she spoke grinning as excitedly as her daughter.

~ Ghod, what other traits do they share? Dad? Right, the senator is Babs’s father. ~

“Girls, what do you say?” I asked, Red spoke.

“I can stay one night, but I have to be at the UW Field house early the morning of the sixth to prepare for a pep rally, I’m coordinating the medical staff assigned there.”

“Three hours by national guard helicopter, less than two by state plane,” Babs said.

“Gin?” I asked.

“I teach a seminar at UW-Stevens Point in two days, but what about my PT Cruiser?”

“Piece of cake; several Iowa Air National Guard C130s are flying reservists to Wisconsin’s Fort McCoy/Camp Douglas the same day. They could make a quick detour to Central Wisconsin Airport. That’s a short drive from Stevens Point, and the airport handles commercial jets that need much more runway.”

~Babs has an answer for everything, just like her ... Oh dear! ~

“Carrie?” It was her turn now.

“Mel, Babs, Joanie’s sort of my responsibility.” They both looked surprised. “Okay if I tell them, Joanie?”

“You know I trust you, Carrie,” I said, giving her hand a friendly squeeze.

“Joanie came by her powers recently; she’s only been a mutant since July third.”

“No wonder my dad and the rest were so concerned when they couldn’t figure out who Joanie was. It was obvious she’s a super, but no one recognized her,” said Babs.

“My mom is Joanie’s doctor, and I’m assigned to her 24/7 as nurse, confidant, and personal trainer, so where she goes I go. Anyone for smores, I love them.”

~Wonderful, Carrie’s an X-Girl Scout and fellow sugar addict. ~

* * * *

To be continued
Revised 08/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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