Harsh Lessons (31 page)

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Leeth wished the school hadn't let Mark Dennis join, even if he
had
ruined Tara's penis plan.  With him there, the day passed weirdly.  Lessons went poorly – Mr Dennis's detached presence siphoned all the energy from the room.  He said little, but was as distracting as a sucking black hole.  Today's improv session was a dismal failure: several times, people had just stood, silent; imaginations run dry.

Worse, at lunch, he'd sat with them at Jane's table.  Remembering the pain of being told she couldn't join Tara – though that seemed now more like a stroke of luck than a punishment – Leeth felt obliged to smile and welcome him.  He'd drawn up an extra chair and squeezed in, not appearing to notice how Delta and Sam shrank away.

No one sat at the tables nearby their now-overcrowded table for four.

Leeth eyed his suit, his silk tie, his neatly-groomed hair and smoothly-shaven face.  He might even be handsome, if he ever cracked an expression.  Like a real smile, for example.  He was certainly sharply dressed.  Much more so than the first time she'd seen him, the other day.

'So, uh, thanks for, uh…'

'Yeah, so, like what the fuck?' demanded Marcie.  'Penis tails?  Seriously?'

'Yes.  Jane also had a penis instead of a nose, and semen dribbling-' Mark Dennis began.

'Stop!  Stop!'  Delta waved her hand in his face.  'Shut up!  Really?  Did I…?  No, don't tell me, I don't wanna know.'

'So, uh, what was the awful trauma you suffered, Mr Dennis?' asked Leeth.

'Jane,' hissed Marcie, 'you can't just ask something like that!'

Mark Dennis tilted his head.  'It is no matter.  But therapists have said it is best not to dwell on it.  And if your friend… Delta? here is disturbed by a description of computer-generated penises and semen, perhaps it is better if a description is not provided.

'You are all friends?'

The four girls looked at one another, smiled, and nodded.  Like they'd only just noticed it.

'Good.  That is good.  Friends provide connection.'

Again, Leeth felt that chill.

In the afternoon, everyone's performances became more and more dull and lifeless.  Even Tara hadn't peppered Leeth and her friends with her usual verbal darts.  At the end of a day of very long, somehow draining classes, people spilled out with a sense of numb relief.

Wow, that had been awful.

Near the gates, Leeth heard a deep, rumbling growl behind her, then exclamations of shock.  Dropping her bag, she spun around-

To see a gleaming white abstraction of swooping, vaguely-muscular curves of speed
grumble
down the driveway that curled around from behind the school.  Gaping students stepped aside as it swept past, with Mark Dennis in the driver's seat, eyes shut but flicking back and forth as if he were reading.  The somehow-sexual sculpture prowled past them, the gates swung open, and then the astonishing car paused, purring to itself before sweeping out smoothly into a gap in the traffic.

'Holy stinking piles of creds, that was a fucken Bugatti Mach 1.2!  That's like, two fukken million creds.  There're only like twenty in the country…!'  The speaker, one of the boys, was staring at the pictures he'd snapped as if he'd just seen a dragon or something.

Marcie nudged Leeth.  'Guess Mr Dennis really is rich, then.  Oh, Jane,
look!
  Check out Tara's face!'

Leeth had to smile.  Tara looked like she'd just swallowed something nasty.

Score two for Mark Dennis
, Leeth thought.
 

Chapter 37 

Leeth felt she had started to really "find her feet."  It was actually nice, mixing with normal people.  Especially Marcie.

At Emma’s urging, she wrote up an interim report.  Even though it took the whole weekend. So then, of course, after only seven days into her training exercise, Mother decided Leeth had learned enough, and would finish the following week.

But she no longer cared if she failed this exercise anymore: not if failing meant she could stop Tara from arranging some even worse assault on her friends.

She dreaded having to tell them that she was leaving, though.  Just the thought made her feel weird in her stomach.  She couldn't even finish her breakfast. 
Maybe I'm getting sick?

'What!  Finishing?  Why?' wailed Marcie at the news on Monday morning.  Sam and Delta looked almost as upset.

Mark Dennis just tilted his head.  For him, though, that was a major reaction.

Leeth shrugged.  'Things aren't so good on the farm.  And this place is pretty expensive.'

'No!' Sam cried.  'You can't just quit!  People are still talking about that Hunt!'  Sam narrowed her eyes at Delta and leaned forward to hiss, 'Not all invisible creatures are imaginary.'

Leeth groaned inwardly.  She was so screwed: Eagle had said she was never to talk about any of that stuff; yet she'd acted it out
right in front of her whole class!
  Oh, but wait – Mother and Father didn't know about what happened at the Institute!  Oh: but Eagle did-

'-calling Jane.  Earth calling Jane.  Can you hear me, over?  Khhkk.'  Marcie's hand on her shoulder snapped her attention back.

'Sorry, Marcie, what'd you say?'

Delta and Sam looked excited, watching Jane for her reaction.

'I said, my Dad is pretty well off.  Maybe I could persuade him to pay your tuition fees too?'

'Wow.  That's- I don't… I don't think so.  Mother and Father need me to start contributing.  I mean, earning.  To help out.'

'The fees can be paid for,' Mark Dennis said.  'A donation can be made to your parents.  How much is required?  It can be done now.'

Leeth gaped at Mark Dennis.  'That's very kind, Mr Dennis, but the situation is… complicated.  I know they wouldn't accept.'

Marcie and the others moaned, and Leeth felt horrible.  Partly at having to lie to them, but also because she herself didn't want to leave.  This had been the most fun period of her life!  Except for Tara.  And the feeling like maybe she might actually be
turning into
a normal girl.  Sometimes, though, when she thought of people hurting her friends, it made her wish they were right: that making rules was enough to keep you safe.

Does that mean I'm turning into a sheep?

'Then there will be a farewell party for you.  The mansion has ample room for such an affair.  And it is close by.'  Mr Dennis shut his eyes.

Marcie and the others conferred by facial expressions and hand gestures.

Delta pointed at Mr Dennis, quirking her eyebrows up and making a gagging motion.  Marcie nodded.  But Sam made a house gesture, that grew big, then mimicked driving a car. 
His mansion; and the Bugatti
.  But Delta shook her head.  Indicated Mr Dennis with her thumb, then swept her finger to include the four of them with him, and shuddered.

He opened his eyes, while the three girls tried to look innocent.

‘The net says the most popular party organizer is C Sky Sparks.  He has confirmed he can arrange a suitable affair this Friday, for forty four people.’

Leeth stared at him blankly while the other three squeaked and exclaimed, drawing glances their way.

'Why forty four people?'

'That is the number of people in this school.'

'Yes!' cried Delta, punching the air then projecting a keyboard and screen onto the tabletop to begin typing.  'I am SoBo-ing this right now!'  She dragged a query code from the projected display toward Mark Dennis.  'Can you send me an url for your mansion, Mr Dennis?  Even just a streetview would do.'

The man looked down at the 2D code, and moments later it was replaced by a video tour of a very plush house and grounds.

'Thanks!'  Delta dragged it into her message, and Sent.  Around the room, a chorus of chimes blossomed.

'Wait, what-'  But Leeth was left blinking in the dust, her three friends already planning the party.

'Oh!  Can you
believe
it?  I'm
chatting
with C Sky Sparks!' squeaked Delta, her fingers moving even faster across the bright keyboard.

Slowly, Leeth started to smile.  It wouldn't be normal for a girl to refuse a party which her friends were organizing, surely?

The most intense debate had been about whether to invite the Power Princesses or not.  In the end, Marcie's argument that it'd be fun watching them eat crow while Jane was the center of attention swayed their better judgment.  Four days, apparently, was just enough time to find the right outfits to wear.

If Leeth thought she'd learned a lot in the previous seven days, it was nothing compared to what she learned in the run-up to her farewell party.

The girls had been blown away by the “DJ” hired, by the catering the party planner outlined, by the videos of Mr Dennis's mansion… by everything.

Mother, however, had been unimpressed – “We don't wish your image on the net” – and for a while it had looked like the party would die a death before the second day of planning.  “No problem,” had been the response from C Sky Sparks – apparently the objection was common – and the event simply turned into a masked ball.  Mother's next objection had been to Mark Dennis himself – but his background appeared solid, if predictably dull.  Nelson assured them the man's wealth was real, most of it in secure overseas crypto accounts that no one except Dennis – or Nelson himself – could access.  “You want me to take some or all of it?”

Mother had said that would not be necessary.

Marcie came with Jane to her “Aunt Elizabeth's” apartment one night, to help choose an outfit.  Though Marcie's eyebrows spent a lot of the time elevated, at the things she found in her friend's closet.

'Guess the farm-boys must've got quite a show.  You really wear this stuff? 
Girl!'

The next night, Leeth visited Marcie's house – the suburb really was called Fruitvale, she discovered.  Marcie's father and little sister both seemed sweet.  Except maybe at the very beginning…

Marcie’s sister Amanda wasn’t what Leeth had expected: she wasn’t a younger, smaller version of Marcie.

She'd squealed. 'Ooh, you’re the Invisible-Hunter?  Will you kill a monster for
me?'

The innocent words sent Leeth flashing back to another time; standing beside Commander Amanda Stone while everyone waited for
Her
to attack.  She  wondered what the older woman was doing; wondered what she herself might be doing now if she’d joined the FBI instead of the Department?  The
Commander
wouldn’t’ve let Uncle…

She shook her head.  Focused on
this
Amanda.

‘Please,
please
do a Hunt?’ the younger girl begged, tugging Leeth’s hands.

This
young Amanda was sweet, and bubbly; and Leeth found herself feeling strangely protective of Marcie’s sister.

And maybe just a touch envious of her friend.

It was a strangely-fun evening, the three of them helping work out what to utilize from Marcie’s closet, and shopping online for the required extras.

The day of the party, Mark Dennis hired a bus to take the entire school to his mansion – which was hardly necessary, as it would have taken scarcely more time to walk than to wait while everyone boarded and disembarked at the other end.

Several of the boys were dismayed to find the rich man let his Bugatti drive itself home, so he could join them on the party bus.  “If I owned a car like that, I'd
live
in it!” had been the general opinion.

The house was enormous.  Set amidst sweeping grounds, the multi-wing mansion sat on a gentle rise, a small forest of impressively old and tall trees screening it from the rest of Oakland.  It boasted tennis courts at the rear, several putting greens, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, an orchid house, and extensive gardens which unrolled down the gentle slope behind the twelve bedroom, thirty-five room villa.  At the foot of the hill sat a very large and very new shed.

Even the weather was kind to them.

Tara and friends, of course, insisted on making their own way there – which no doubt meant their outfits would be designed to shock and awe when they made their entrance.  But Marcie and the others didn't care.

Leeth wore black: high heels, a sparkling feathered owl mask, and a jewel-cut dress with ruffled sleeves and zig-zagging angled hem. 'Very retro-20s,' Marcie had said. With an emerald-colored pendant and bracelets to bring out the color of her eyes. 

Marcie wore an extravagant peacock mask, her outfit an off-the-shoulder number with swirls of turquoise sliding like the Aurora Borealis through the shimmering navy material.  A dusting of lace at the neckline drew the eye to Marcie's pale skin and modest bust.

She looked stunning, and Leeth told her so.

Mr Dennis’s mansion glowed, every window lit.  The music could be heard even before the bus stopped in the wide, curving driveway beside the elaborate granite fountain.  Age-greened bronze nymphs and a half-man, half-bull relaxed in a wide expanse of water, dancing streams lit by green and blue lights and giving it a mystical appearance.

The music pulled them, feet tapping, from the bus, and Leeth, Marcie and the rest of the school danced, laughing, up the stairs and inside.

Which did credit to the images they'd already seen.  Suited caterers ushered them in across the parquet flooring.  A
secondary
ballroom had been set aside as a quieter area, with a selection of exotic but delicious finger foods and a wide range of drinks, and couches and rosewood coffee tables for relaxing and talking.

This was going to be a magical night!

Even Tara's triumphant arrival failed to ruin it – her dress a waterfall of shimmering and glowing clouds, her hair a complex up-do that alternately sparkled or burned in fiery veins.  The masks of she and her friends were glowing hologram “eyes of magical power.”

Tara, Beth, and Ava reminded Leeth of three slightly-scary Fairy princesses.  But they looked good.

And as the night progressed, it seemed even Tara had buried the hatchet.

A few times, Leeth had felt a little dizzy, and flushed, but figured it was just from all the dancing.  The music was
ultra,
everyone agreed.  Even Mr Beckman and Ms Sorensen were dancing.  Both had some pretty amazing moves, especially for old people in their thirties.