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Wynter seemed thrilled to be going to high school, if only for the day. Hailey, the experienced freshman, wasn't nearly as impressed, and Cinnamon just took it in stride.I just concentrated on my driving and how I was going to sell this to Mr. Reed.Mrs. Hatcher, the school's secretary, wasn't at her desk when we walked in, Mrs. Mires was. It was a few minutes before first bell, so at least we didn't have to wade through a sea of students getting tardy slips."Hi, Mrs. Mires," I said stepping up to the counter. "Where's Mrs. Hatcher?"Mrs. Mires looked at me like she'd just taken a big bite out of a particularly sour lemon. I think it was her version of a smile. "I wasn't aware that she needed your permission to miss work."I smiled while counting to myself. 'One, two, three... ' I counted in English. Then Spanish, French, German, Russian, Swahili, Chinese, Hebrew. Finally Portugese, Croatian and Afrikaans. I was hoping to learn my numbers in Apache and Aztec next.Mrs. Mires had sat. I landed on my back as it charged by. Dust swirled around us, swallowing the world.Pyrriah shouted, not in pain, but a cry of an attack. Metal rang on shell.I coughed and pushed myself up to my feet. The dust swirled to my right. The duallahan broke out of it a moment later, swinging her sword at me. I cursed and raised my tulwar in a parry. I caught her blade at the last moment, stopping her slash.She kicked me in the stomach.I grunted and stumbled back. She followed up with a lunge. I slapped her blade to the side and counter-slashed for her neck. I struck her, cutting her head off. It tumbled in the air, flying upward? It spun around, her white hair sweeping behind it.Her hand landed back on her shoulder.She stabbed at me again, hitting me in the breastplate before I could react. Her hand came off and went back on. I didn’t know she could do that. I didn’t know much about duallahans at all. But that was wild.She smiled at me and attacked.I parried, her blows fierce, driving me.
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I lifted my knuckles to knock again, but said the hell with it. I went back to the study, found a book and read. Later I watched TV and decided I wasn’t in the mood for the Micky Mouse Club.I decided to venture to the club downstairs.Just after five o’clock the main floor was already raucous. I sat down at the bar and had a beer. I turned in the swivel seat watching the goings on. At a table, a short distance from the bar, an older well dressed man had pulled a gigging waitress to his lap. He had his hand under her short skirt. She had her arms over his shoulders. He was pinching her ass with his fingers as she wiggled on his lap.The girls working the room were dressed in what I could only describe as erotic cocktail waitress style, wearing tight low cut tops with frilly short skirts. They wore heels, fishnet stockings and garters.In the center of the room there was a spotlighted, round circular stage. Three girls where doing a joined-arm Rockettes style kicking routine. They didn’t.

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