Act One Chapter Two - Pictures of You

"So, big Shadowrun game this weekend." declared Karl, as they leaned back mid-game to take a break and talk about their upcoming plans. "You in?"

Michael shook his head. "Not this time. I'm off home Thursday night. Going to see Rebecca and to go to our homecoming dance with her."

"Isn't that a bit high schoolish?" teased Mitch.

"Seeing as she's a year younger and still a senior, I'd say yeah."

"Just tell me you're going to get laid. God knows you need it." said Boar.

"You guys are relentless.” Said Michael. Of course, were he being honest even with himself, Michael would have to admit the thought had crossed his mind, even in his anticipation for the weekend. He wondered in his thoughts to touch her, to see her, to take her. Although the seed had been long ago planted, Boar’s teasing had brought to blossom again and now Michael found himself wholly unable to concentrate on the game.

“Goddamn it. Again?” The sharp comment from Geoffrey yanked Michael from his thoughts. The others did not seem to have noticed his mental absence, for all their attention was now focused on the dozen or so six-sided dice in front of Mitch.

“All sixes. I’d say that was a success.” Added Mitch.

“I swear to God you cheat.” snarled Boar. “That’s like the third or fourth time tonight. These dice must be loaded.” He scooped up a few of them and rolled them himself. They came up a mix.

“Not loaded. Just lucky.” Shrugged Mitch.

Boar turned away and looked askance at Mitch, as if brooding. “I don’t buy it.” He grumbled.

“There’s no reason to be upset.” Interjected Michael. “It’s not like we’re in competition here. It’s good that our street samurai is a crack shot.”

“And good at everything else apparently too.” Snapped Boar in return. “Kinda defeats the purpose of having a challenge if Zaphod over here can walk all over it, no matter what it is.”

“That’s really my concern. Not yours,” reminded Karl. “Michael’s right. There’s not much reason to be angry.” Despite his statements, it was obvious from the look on Karl’s face that he didn’t completely believe it was pure luck either.

The game continued, but it was obvious that Mitch’s improbable luck and the sour grapes over it had spoiled the mood. After the encounter, Karl decided to wrap things up, rewarding the players and their characters and then offering one more reminder about the weekend. Boar hurriedly gathered his things and left with little word to the others.

“It was such a little thing.” Commented Michael, frustrated at Boar’s anger over what he saw as a minor issue. “You don’t cheat. I sit too close to you at the gaming table. You’d not be able to pull anything off without my noticing.” He scooped up some of Mitch’s dice and rolled them himself. Again, a normal mix of numbers.

"It's not about the dice." Said Mitch. "Deb's been rather uninterested of late."

"Does everything come back to her?" complained Michael.

"You really don't like her, do you?" said Karl.

"Not really, no." admitted Michael. "She's vulgar and obvious and...."

"A slut?" added Mitch.

"For lack of a better term." conceded Michael. "And each one of you is obsessed because she puts out."

"While you pretend to be above it all." replied Mitch. "Dude, don't be a hypocrite. You're a cool guy, Michael, and I see the way you look at her. Don't tell me you aren't tempted."

"Of course, I am." said Michael. "That's the problem."

"Only because you make it into one."

Michael found that hard to argue with. Now he was angry, mostly because Mitch was right. He was tempted. He did want to be with Deb, to touch her, to hold her, dare he admit it, to fuck her. It was all true and he hated himself for it.

“I’ll see you guys later." Michael's cheeks were turning red from his embarrassment "Next week, if I don’t run into you around campus.” He began gathering his things.

“Have fun.” Said Mitch. "Hey, if not Deb, then maybe..."

Michael gritted his teeth at that suggestion, his anger flashing even hotter, his embarrassment showing even redder on his face. That was, of course, because it was exactly what he was thinking.

“We’ll see.” was all Michael dared reply.

----

Michael stepped off the Greyhound, a bag over one shoulder. He glanced about the familiar sights of Charleston, West Virginia. He was home, first time since heading off to college.

A quick glance of his watch told him that his parents would still be at work for some hours. He wondered then who it was that would greet him at the station. A smile crossed his lips as he thought….

“Michael!” came a voice. It dashed his initial hopes, but replaced them with a new satisfaction. The voice belonged to the youth pastor of his church, Ian MacAlister.

“Pastor Ian.” Replied Michael. “So did my folks send you to get me?”

“They were at work. So I came instead. Got your things?”

“Yeah, I packed light.” Michael shifted his bag slightly to demonstrate. “So how you been?”

“I’m fine, but the question of the hour is not how I’m doing. I’m far more interested to hear about your first few weeks at Virginia Tech. I’ll treat you to Taco Bell if you spill the beans.”

“That sounds like a deal I’ll not refuse. Let’s go.”

Ian walked Michael over to his car. Michael tossed his bag into the back and sat down in the front passenger seat. Ian got in, turned on the motor. The tape deck began playing. “…all I want to do is to fade into you.”

“Dude, rewind.” Requested Michael with a smile. “That’s The Choir.”

“I thought you might approve.” Replied Ian. He hit the rewind button to start the song from the beginning. He put the car in gear and headed across town. “Figure Patrick Street is the closest.”

“Only if you want to avoid paying for parking at the mall.”

“True.” He paused for a bit to focus on the road, then continued. “So, home to see Becca?”

Michael blushed a bit. “She asked me to the homecoming dance.”

“That sounds like good news. Your prom last spring. Every waking minute over the summer and now this. Looks like you two are really clicking.”

“I hope.” Said Michael. His tone was somewhat pessimistically.

“Now where’s the positive attitude?” needled Ian. “You’ll not win her heart that way.”

“It’s a lot harder with me 3 hours away.” Michael briefly considered telling his friend about Deb, but he kept quiet.

“Steadfastness is your ally.” Said Ian, reverting to a pastoral tone. “You know better than I all that she’s been through. Her brother’s death and all that.”

“His suicide, you mean.” Said Michael bluntly. “No one ever seems to want to call it what it was.”

“You sound angry.”

“I am. What he did to her…” he let his voice trail off. "And here I am tempted to betray her!" He thought to himself. "after all she's been through."

“Look,” said Ian as they pulled into the parking lot at the Taco Bell. “all I can tell you is that she’s had a very rough time this past year and that makes people a little hesitant to trust. But you’re doing the right thing. I know you care about her. The longer you stay by her, thick or thin, she’ll come to trust you again. She already does to some degree, or she wouldn’t have asked you to the dance this weekend.”

“I know. I’m just impatient. You want the right one and you hear all the stories of how it’s supposed to happen. And then your own story doesn’t work out that way.”

“No one’s ever does. You make your own destiny, Michael. And God willing, if you make the right choices, hold fast to the right things, you’ll see your patience rewarded. Now come, I want to hear more about Tech. Tacos await.”

----

Ian pulled up to Michael’s house to discover that they were not the first ones there. A bicycle sat in the yard and a solitary figure paced nervously back and forth on the porch, as if waiting.

“Well now. It seems you don’t have the monopoly on impatience.” Said Ian with a smile.

Michael stepped out hurriedly and headed across the yard. Rebecca stepped off and started towards him. Ian hung back and watched.

“Hey.” Said Michael bashfully.

“Glad you’re home.” Said Rebecca with the same tone.

“So, are you two going to say hello for real or what?” said Ian, walking up with Michael’s bag. Michael shot his pastor a baleful glance. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone. I think I can trust you to behave yourselves alone.” He dropped the bag and smiled at the two of them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Rebecca embarrassed. Ian said nothing, but merely winked and walked away.

“He is going to get us into trouble.” Said Michael flatly as Pastor Ian drove off.

“I sometimes get tired of his teasing.” Lamented Rebecca.

“He wants what’s best for us and you know it.” Although he wouldn’t admit it, Michael was equally annoyed at Ian’s teasing. He suspected it had spoiled his chance at getting that “real” hello, whatever form it might have taken.

“So, how was your trip?”

“Long. Boring. 460 to 77 to home. The usual.” He paused, building up his courage to say the next thing. “Made all the harder by knowing this long boring ride was the only thing standing before seeing you again.”

Rebecca blushed all the redder at that and Michael smiled at her response. Maybe Ian was right and the barriers were breaking down at last.

“College has been good to you.” She said.

“In what way?”

“You seem different. More confident.” She took him in hand. “More attractive.” She drew closer. Maybe he’d get that hello after all. Michael leaned in to kiss her, only to have her turn away at the last second.

Michael felt a flash of frustrated anger, but tried to keep it hidden. But she looked in his eyes and he knew she could see his emotions. “Not yet.” She said.

Michael let his feelings cool a bit before speaking again. “When?” he asked bluntly.

“Saturday. The dance. There’s a time and place for everything.” Rebecca got a sly look on her face. “Besides, the anticipation makes it all the sweeter.”

“You are such a tease.”

Rebecca’s smile broadened. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

----

Friday passed quickly. Michael spent much of that time visiting with his parents, being ignored by his sister, and visiting other relations around the Charleston area, most just as eager as Pastor Ian to learn of his adventures at Tech. Rebecca was in school during the day. Friday night was the homecoming game for their high school. Rebecca picked him up and the two went together, seeing friends who had not yet graduated and a few that had.

Although not all they encountered were people they wanted to see.

“Look who’s home.” Came a jeering taunt.

“Todd.” Said Michael grimly. He was walking back from the concessions, two hot dogs in one hand and a soda with two straws in the other. Michael turned slowly to see Todd, a large husky former-football player. He’d graduated last year with Michael, and much to Michael’s enjoyment, seemed to have few prospects for his future. However, that also meant he had little else to do but stick around his old haunts keeping to his old habits; bullying anyone smaller than him.

Michael had always been a favorite target.

“So, who’s the soda for? You and one of your gay gamer buddies?” With a swat, he knocked the drink from Michael’s hand. It splashed across the concrete, nearly soaking a gaggle of sophomore girls who were walking past.

“Jesus, Todd, aren’t we a bit old for this schoolyard bullshit? We graduated, remember?”

“Maybe we did, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t still a little pussy.” He gave Michael a hard shove, knocking him over on his back.

“Todd!” barked a voice and Michael felt ill.

It was Rebecca. “God, don’t let her see me like this.” Michael thought to himself.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Scolded Rebecca as she moved to Michael’s side.

“So, the pussy needs a pussy to help him off the ground.”

“That’s enough” came another voice. Todd turned to see who would dare challenge him. It was his younger brother, a junior named Shawn. “Leave those two alone.”

“Oh, and you’re going to stop me?” said Todd.

“I might.” Said Shawn. Shawn, like his brother, was no slouch in the strength department. Michael knew he was on the wrestling team and although he was a head shorter than Todd, he was more than a match for him.

Todd was apparently not so stupid as to not realize this. So he gave a weak smile to Shawn, shot back an intimidating glare at Michael, and left.

“Asshole.” Snarled Michael under his breath. He started back to his feet, Rebecca moving into help. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped at her, before realizing who it was he was yelling at.

Rebecca stepped back, startled and hurt. Michael realized his mistake. “Becca, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“You should go home, Michael.” Said Rebecca, clearly upset. “The game’s almost over anyway.”

----

Michael called Rebecca later that night in an effort to make amends. The call did not begin well, with Rebecca clearly being stand-offish. But as time went on, she softened and she assured Michael that their date for the dance was still on.

“I just wish you’d mind your temper better.” She complained. “This is not the first time you’d snapped at me for trying to help.”

“The last thing I want you to think about me is that I’m weak.” Confessed Michael.

“Todd’s the weak one and you know it.” Said Rebecca. “And so do I. He wouldn’t be able to stand up to half the things you have. Just because he’s physically stronger does not make him a better man. He’s worthless. Everyone knows it. Even Shawn says as much about his brother. Stop worrying about him.”

“Kinda pathetic, isn’t it? I come home from college and everything’s back to the way it used to be. Me the wimpy nerd being…”

“I told you to stop it.” Said Rebecca strongly. “He knocked you down. Don’t make it worse by beating yourself up over it too.” She paused. “This is something else about you that I wish you didn’t do.”

“You’re doing a hell of a job trying to cheer me up.” Snapped Michael.

He could hear her exasperation on the other end. “Alright,” she admitted. “I deserved that one. But please stop. You don’t have to prove anything to me. If you weren’t the person that you are, with all the strength and compassion and loyalty that you have, you wouldn’t have stood by me all these months. That’s all the proof I need.”

It sounded good. He wanted to believe it, but doubt nagged at him. He remembered what Pastor Ian had said about being steadfast. It was not easy trying to be perfect all the time. Michael feared he’d slip up, and each time like tonight where he just barely dodged that bullet, he became more and more convinced that failure was just around the corner. A brief flash of Deborah's face only convinced him all the more.

Rebecca seemed to read his silence. “You okay over there?”

“I’d be better if you were here with me.” He admitted. His doubts always seemed to flee when she was present. His fantasies of making love to her flooded his mind. If he could just be with her that way, maybe his doubts would vanish.

“It’s late.” She said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she hung up the phone.

----

Michael’s mood remained somewhat sour throughout Saturday. So far, most of what he’d hoped would happen over the weekend between him and Rebecca was going south. But, he was thankful that it was not as bad as it could have been.

But as the time for the dance approached, his mood brightened and he began to think that maybe some things could be salvaged. So long as he played all his cards right.

As he pulled up to Rebecca’s house, he did a quick check in the mirror to make sure his hair was well-combed. The dance was only semi-formal, so he was dressed in the same sort of sport coat and slacks that he might wear to church. After a cursory check, he sighed. “You know,” he said to himself out loud. “I could use a bit of Mitch’s luck right now.”

He got out of the car and walked to the front door. He paused for a moment about halfway up the driveway to look at the small shrine the family had erected to Rebecca’s brother Tommy. Tommy had killed himself about a year ago after getting a failing grade on a report card. It seemed such a waste of a life and, with what it did to his parents and sister, Michael found it hard to feel any sympathy towards the dead.

The door to the front of the house swung open and Rebecca stepped out. If she was still angry or upset about the night before, it did not show. Instead, her face was practically beaming. Her dark red hair was well groomed and she was wearing a black sleeveless dress that was far shorter than just about anything Michael had ever seen her wear. His eyes lingered on her shapely legs before inching their way up to her face, pausing for a moment (as young men often did) at her chest.

Rebecca appeared pleased by his stare; it was clearly the effect she was hoping for. “You like?” she asked.

Michael found that his command of the English language had temporarily escaped him. “Um…yeah…yes. Wow. You look fantastic.”

Rebecca’s smile broadened again. Michael had to admit that he liked seeing her do that and he felt his confidence grow a bit. “Should make tonight a night to remember.” She said.

“You’ve certainly gotten things started on the right foot.” Said Michael, finding his language skills returning. His mind however had only a single thought: getting her out of that dress later.

If anything of his body language betrayed that thought, Rebecca did not react. But she did step forward and put a single finger across his lips as if to silence him. “One rule.” She said. “We say nothing about last night. No complaints. No self-pity. None of it. You’re mine tonight and I’m not sharing you with your bully problems. Understand?”

Michael nodded.

“Then let’s go. I need to grab my purse and then we’re off.” She turned to dash back inside briefly. Michael watched her go.

“Damn.” He whistled to himself. “If she doesn’t turn every head in the place, I don’t know what will.”

----

Michael found that abiding by Rebecca’s rule to be easy as the night went on. The rest of the world seemed to vanish, along with all of its troubles. There was no Todd. No Deborah. No Virginia Tech. None of it. There was only the two of them together.

Although Deborah did intrude upon his thoughts just once that night. He offered to get some refreshments for the two of them and Rebecca had graciously accepted. So off he went to find the punch bowl and the cookie table. Once there, he took a moment to review and reflect on the evening so far. Glancing back across the room, he could just barely make Rebecca out where she was sitting waiting for his return. “I would not trade any of this for a night in the sack with Deborah, no matter how much she persists.” He thought. “Besides, things are looking very good for many nights with Rebecca instead.” He gathered up a plateful of cookies, poured two cups of punch, and headed back to the table.

He found Rebecca chatting with Todd’s brother, Shawn. He set down the food and drink and gave the junior a cursory nod.

“I see your date has returned. We can chat later.” Shawn stood up and walked away.

“I thought we promised not to talk about last night.” Teased Michael. He had meant it playfully, but Rebecca’s look showed that she did not take it that way. A spike of fear shot through his heart. Had he blown it again? “Did I say something wrong?” he asked tentatively.

Rebecca’s smile returned. “No, sorry. I wasn’t sure what you meant. I forgot he was there last night.” As Michael sat down, Rebecca placed her hand over his. “We’re friends, Shawn and I. He just came over to say hi.”

“Okay.” Said Michael. He was a mix of relief and a bit of envy. In that moment, he understood a bit of why his friends at Tech had said a lingering high school relationship often failed. He wished he could be Shawn and be with her every day.

Rebecca helped herself to the refreshments and Michael leaned back, sipping at his own punch, and just watched. After a few sips and bites, Rebecca got a self-conscious look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Just…” A moment’s courage took him. “…I can’t take my eyes off of you tonight. This is the prettiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“My, aren’t we getting bold?” teased Rebecca. She was blushing though, clearly flattered by his attention. “Only six weeks at Tech, six weeks of being a college man, and you’re finally willing to admit that?”

“Did I need to admit it?”

“Yes, I think you did.” She replied. “It’s no secret to anyone, not even me, how you feel, Michael. But you walk around like you’re afraid of those feelings.”

Michael amazed himself by his own boldness. He ventured even further. “I’m not the only one.”

Rebecca's eyes flashed with panic, a reaction Michael felt was well above-and-beyond anything his words should have triggered. He was confused. She looked away and stared down at the plate of cookies. “You know what I’ve been through.” She said glumly.

“Yes, I do.” Said Michael. “But it’s also no secret how you feel about me. And yet we both play this stupid little game with each other, pretending its just playful teasing, but really we’re afraid to let the other get too close.”

"There's a lot of reasons for that." admitted Rebecca. "A lot of things I can't tell you."

"I hope that will change in time. We're both that way. Honestly, I can relate. There's things I can't say either. Maybe then I need to take the first step. A leap of faith, as it were." He paused, feeling very vulnerable in his insights. “Why am I saying these things? Why am I admitting this?” His doubts raged, but then he steeled himself against them. “No, don’t retreat. Not this time. Risk little, gain little. Risk much, gain everything.”

Rebecca continued to look at him, as awaiting a response. Michael leaned over swiftly and kissed her on the lips. Of all the responses she might have gotten, that seemed to be the one she least expected, and yet given how quickly she yielded to him, it was also the one she most wanted.

At that moment, the song changed and Bryan Adams “Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven” began playing. Michael broke off the kiss. “Shall we dance?” he offered. “One more time tonight.”

Rebecca took his hand and followed him onto the dance floor. She seemed to float behind him, as if on a cloud. Although the song was somewhat upbeat, Michael swept her into his arms as if to slow dance with her. Rebecca held close.

“A night to remember indeed.” He heard her whisper, her head resting on his chest.

“It’s not over yet.” He replied.

“No, no, it isn’t.” she agreed and the dance continued.

The song finished up and Michael guided Rebecca back over to their table. She fetched her purse from its hiding place and they proceeded out the door.

“Where to now?” She asked as they reached the parking lot.

“Someplace we can be alone.” He replied. He had a plan, a goal, and everything was moving towards it. They walked to Michael’s car and he headed down the road.

“So where exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kanawha State Forest. It’s not far. It’s secluded.”

“And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with me there?”

Michael wasn’t sure what to say to such a direct question. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to offer a direct answer.

Rebecca let out a nervous giggle. Michael knew she was not so naïve to not know what he had in mind. “Do you trust me?” he asked her.

“Yes.” She replied. “I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t.”

They drove down out of South Hills towards the forest in silence. Michael knew the roads of these neighborhoods blindfolded; They were, after all, the streets he had grown up on, learned to drive on. So every now and then, he would steal a glance over at Rebecca. She sat quietly with her hands cupped in her lap.

At this hour of night, there were few people in the forest, although its gates did not technically close for several more hours. Michael drove inside and found an empty picnic shelter with a parking lot. He pulled in and turned the car off.

He stepped out into the night air to survey the surroundings. There was not a soul in sight and the only sounds were the sounds of the forest, of birds, frogs, and insects. Rebecca stepped out. “We’re alone.” She said, observing the obvious.

“Just us.” Michael added. He walked around the car to her side and offered his hand. She took it and followed him to the shelter. Her hand was cold.

Once under the shelter, he paused and turned to her. “You’re frightened?”

“A little. I know what you're planning. Kinda big step to take.”

“For both of us.” He admitted. “I’m nervous too.”

That admission seemed to relax her somewhat and she took the initiative this time, leaning up to kiss him. Michael pulled himself closer to her, savoring her lips on his, and running his hands up and down her back. Rebecca let out a nervous shiver as his hands paused for a moment on the zipper of her dress. But despite his eagerness, Michael hesitated.

Rebecca didn’t. She reached around on her own and undid the zipper, the loosened dress sloughing off of her onto the concrete pad at their feet. She shivered again, perhaps partly from the cold.

Michael moved in to touch her again, but she kept him at arm’s length, working his coat off. She loosened his tie, to which Michael reached up to remove completely. He tossed it with the coat onto a nearby picnic table.

She began to unbutton his shirt, but Michael could no longer resist reaching out to touch what was before him. He let his hands run down her shoulder and arms, savoring the touch of her bare skin before moving to her abdomen. He lingered around her belly button and then ran his hand around to the small of her back. From there, he worked upward to her bra and then circled back to the front. He took one breast in hand and gave it a playful squeeze through the fabric.

“You make it hard to concentrate.” Said Rebecca, fumbling with the last button.

“I’m sampling.” He teased. He returned to that “sampling,” running a single finger down from her breasts to her belly button and then beyond, stopping at the waistband of her panties. He looked her in the eyes. There was uncertainty behind them.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“I won’t hurt you.” He let his finger continue, down the panties to her crotch. He began to move between her legs, feeling the warmth there, when she slammed her thighs shut.

“No.” she said. “No, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She took his hand and pushed it away. “Please, don’t.”

“I won’t.” said Michael softly, disappointment in his voice. “But I thought you wanted this?”

“I...” She started. “We shouldn’t. Not here. Not like this.”

“Then where? How? When? Rebecca, I love you, and I know you love me too. I asked you if you trusted me and you said yes.”

“Do you trust me?” she replied.

“I do.”

“Then believe me when I say this isn’t a rejection. I’m just not comfortable with this yet. You said at the dance how we play this game, of how we’re afraid to get close. You were right and I am afraid. I don’t want to be, but there's so much you don't know."

"I want to know. What is it?"

"Not tonight." she replied.

Michael let out his breath, frustrated and disappointed. “Alright.” He leaned down and picked up her dress off the floor and handed it back to her.

She quickly put it back on. Michael went over and fetched his own clothing. He turned back to her.

“Can you take me home?” she asked.

“At least allow us one thing to end the night on.”

“What’s that?”

Michael leaned in to kiss her again. “This, I think I can handle.” She confessed and her lips met his.

next chapter

Act One Chapter One: Tom Sawyer

Mike Boorman shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. He moved his steel helmet from under one arm to the other. “So,” he said, “are any of these freshmen worth their salt?”

His companion scanned the crowd and shrugged. “Who knows?” replied James Mitchell. “It will be entertaining to watch them try.”

At that moment, the early morning sun came over the roof of Newman Library and bathed the drill field of Virginia Tech with light. It was a Saturday morning, in early autumn, and the college chapter of the Society of Creative Anachronism was holding their annual “Year Opening” tournament. People who were members of clubs elsewhere and had come to Tech as students were allowed to compete; a rite of initiation for many into the club at their college.

Among the challenges those applicants would face was Mike Boorman. He was the Tech chapter’s champion, a big hefty man in his early 20s. He was strong as an ox and scary looking to boot, half white and half black, with dark skin, black hair, a goatee, and ice blue eyes. He dressed for battle in replica chainmail, with a steel helmet under his arm, and a rattan sword by his feet.

His friend, who most everyone just called “Mitch,” could have been Mike’s brother, they looked so much alike. Same color hair and eyes, even the goatee, although Mitch lacked Mike's dark complexion and was also much more lanky. He seemed about half the size of Mike in his armor. He, unlike most of those present, was not even costumed, but wore regular street clothes.

“You know, you could try to get a bit more into the spirit of things.” Complained Mike.

“You mean dress up?” said Mitch. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not exactly easy to find medieval style clothing at J.C. Penny.”

“Mail order.”

“I have better things to spend my money on.” Replied Mitch as his attention wandered over to a petite costumed blond. Her corset was tightly fastened and it was obvious that Mitch’s eyes had been drawn to her ample cleavage.

“So I see.” Mike nudged Mitch with his elbow to regain his attention. “You know, that could be your incentive.”

“Welcome to all you lord and ladies from the Barony of the Black Diamond.” Came the voice of the herald from the center of the tourney circle. “Today you will see a spectacle of arms and valor on the field of battle. For here, those men-at-arms who have come to this place for study may prove themselves worthy to fight among us by challenging our own champions on this very field….”

“You’re up first.” Said Mitch, taking the helm from Mike’s arm and placing it on his head and then tightening its strap. With a quick smack on the side of his head for luck, Mitch sent his friend out into the field.

The herald continued. “Our first champion is Ragnar, a Northman of great stature and prowess.” He had introduced Mike by his SCA name and would do so with all those in the lists. “And his challenger, coming to us from the Barony of Marinus is Emile duLac of the English Normans.”

A thin blond in glasses stepped forward. He was a good head above Mike in height, but looked to have about half his breadth. Mike smiled. This would be easy.

“Emile” gave Mike a steely gaze and put on his helmet. “He’s not intimidated easily.” Mike observed silently. Mike picked up his shield and moved to the center of the tourney circle.

“Begin!” barked the herald and Mike did not hesitate. He surged forward and swung his rattan sword with great strength. Emile raised his shield and the sword struck the shield with great force.

Mike did not let up. He swung again and again, harder each time. Yet despite the blows he rained down upon his opponent, Emile’ shield did not buckle, nor did he strike a blow himself. With each strike, Emile gave ground, moving closer and closer to the edge of the tourney field.

Growing frustrated by his opponent’s seemingly impenetrable defense, Mike brought his arm back for a might blow and flung his weapon forward with all his might. It was the opening Emile had been waiting for. As Mike threw all of his strength and weight into this death blow, Emile’ own blade snaked out at last, striking Mike across the shin and knocking Mike’s leg right out from under him. Off balance, he found himself unable to react in time and found himself crashing face first to the ground.

Mike immediately rolled onto his back, but he was not fast enough to get back to his feet in time. Emile’ rattan sword smacked down hard on Mike’s chest, giving his opponent the victory.

“And the victor is….Emile!” declared the herald. Mike sat up, a bit surprised. He had lost. He hadn’t lost a tourney match in years, and yet here he was.

Emile removed his helmet. He was young, younger than Mike, perhaps 18. He had long blonde hair and dark eyes. He stared momentarily at his opponent and then offered a gauntleted hand to Mike to help him back to his feet. Mike accepted the help (getting up in chain mail is never easy.)

“Been a long time since I’ve gotten an ass whuping like that.” Said Mike. “Real name’s Mike Boorman, but most folks call me ‘Boar.’” Mike offered his hand to his opponent.

“Michael Allens.” Replied “Emile,” taking Mike in hand.

“Freshman?”

“Yeah, just started here last month.” Replied Michael.

“Then you’re going to need someone to show you around. There’s a lot more to Blacksburg than just that school. We can get started. Mitch and I and a lot of the others in the chapter usually hold an after-party at my place when the tourney’s over. Would you like to come?”

Michael nodded.

“Excellent. Things start at seven.”

“I’ll be there.”

-----

“…Something's wrong, shut the light. Heavy thoughts tonight. And they aren't of Snow White…Dreams of war, dreams of liars…”

It was some hours later and Michael had made good in accepting Boar’s invitation to the SCA after-party. The two were standing in the kitchen of Boar’s apartment, getting beverages for themselves. Most everyone else at the party was out in the living room, listening to music and chatting up a storm.

“I was a bit worried there at first.” Said Michael as he poured himself a Coke.

“Worried?” replied Boar. “About what?”

“There is great fury and passion in your fighting style. In many ways, that’s playing to your strengths and I imagine it’s appropriate that your SCA alter ego is a Viking. But after I won, I wondered if you’d take it personally.”

“Maybe just a little.” Chuckled Boar. “Nah, that’s not me. When I’m out there, I fight like a demon. Once the fight is over though, no hard feelings.” Boar gave a glance to Michael’s drink. “You want anything for that? You’re more than welcome to my stock.” He pointed back at the bottles of liquor that were also on the counter.

“No thanks.” Said Michael calmly. “I’m underage.”

“I’m not carding, but suit yourself.” Said Mike. “So tell me, where you learn to fight like that?”

“I was the class nerd in grade school and high school. Got tired of being everyone’s punching bag. So I took some martial arts classes. Taught me to fight, how to watch for openings, and to wait for those openings. Most of those lessons applied nicely to sword play when I joined the SCA my senior year of high school.”

“You’ve only been in SCA tourneys for less than a year?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Boar whistled. “I’ve been in three and no one has ever kicked my ass as easily and as quickly as you did.”

“Your style is to batter your opponents down, using your greater strength to overpower your opponent’s defenses. I’ll admit, one more blow and you probably would have had me. But there’s very little finesse in your style…..”

“She’s here.” Interrupted Mitch, sticking his head into the kitchen.

Boar smiled. “She?” inquired Michael.

“You’ll see. Come on. Someone I want to introduce you to.”

Boar led Michael from the kitchen into the living room. There was a new arrival. In the center of the room, still wearing her leather jacket from coming in from the evening air, was a teenage girl, probably 16. Her hair was short, colored a deep red. Her most striking quality was her height or rather lack thereof. Michael guessed she couldn’t be even 5 feet tall, probably 4’11” or even 4’10”.

It didn't end there, though. As Michael took more of her in, everything about her was striking. Her eyes were ice-blue, as pale as any he'd ever seen. There was something else, something about the look of her face, round and pale like porcelain. She was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen.

The girl turned and behind those pale eyes Michael could tell she was older than her appearance suggested. “So, Boar,” she said. “Is this the one who finally kicked your ass?” Her voice matched her appearance, melodic with an very mild but very unique accent Michael couldn't place.

Mike laughed, “Yeah, this is him. Michael Allens, meet Deborah Means.”

“Call me Deb.” Said Deborah. “I’m sort of the chapter tavern wench.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Teased Mitch from where he was standing near the kitchen door.

“Shut thy mouth and get me my usual.” She snapped teasingly at him.

“As you wish, mi’lady.” Mitch gave a mocking curtsy and headed back into the kitchen.

Deb took off her jacket and tossed it in the corner where most everyone else had also placed their coats. Underneath the jacket, Michael could now see that she was dressed in a black tank top with a denim mini-skirt. Her clothing was revealing in all the right places. His eyes were drawn almost reflexively to her bust; her cleavage was on open display and Michael could see the hints of an elaborate tattoo on her chest. Everything about her it seemed was meant to provoke a reaction. Michael found he could not take his eyes off of her.

Boar chuckled. “Yep, just like the rest of us.”

Michael turned to him. “Huh?”

Deb walked up to Michael and slipped her arms about his waist. “What he means, mi’lord, is that, like everyone else in this room, you can’t resist me. The wench has trapped the heart of another helpless lord with her charm and grace.” She pressed against him, mashing her ample bosom into his belly. Michael felt a certain uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.

Mike chuckled again. “Is that what you call them? So which one is charm and which one is grace?”

To that, the room burst into laughter. Deb stepped back and joined the fun, clearly appreciating the joke as well. After a few seconds, she looked at Michael. “I’d like a smoke. Care to join me?”

“I don’t smoke.” Said Michael flatly.

“Then keep me company.” She purred seductively and headed for the door.

At first it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to follow. Boar moved up behind him. “Well, time for the champion to claim his prize.”

“What are you talking about?”

Boar chuckled as Mitch moved up beside him. “You’ll see.” Said Mitch, giving Michael a little wave as if to dismiss him.

At that moment, the music changed from Metallica to Rush, playing “Modern day warrior…Mean, mean stride…” Michael turned and headed for the door, only to see Deb standing in it, waiting for him.

“I suppose the fact that one of my favorite songs started playing isn’t going to matter to you?”

“What do you think?” She smiled and headed outside into the night air. Michael followed. He shivered, more from nerves than cold. He could now guess what was going on here.

“You know,” she said as she put a cigarette into her mouth, “No one’s ever beaten him before.”

“I find that a little surprising. Boar’s strong, but he’s sloppy.” Replied Michael flatly as Deb lit her cigarette and took a drag from it. Discussing battle strategy was calming to him, a realm he was much more comfortable in.

She gave him a long look. "You have an eye for sizing up your opponents. That’s good.”

“You’re not really interested in my battle prowess, are you?”

"Actually, I am, but that's not all." She said slyly. She turned and headed down the stairs to the sidewalk below.

“I thought as much.” Said Michael with a tone of annoyance. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

Deb kicked off her shoes and walked out into the grass, glancing back to see if Michael was still following her. He was not and was still standing at the top of the stairs.

“You’re an odd one, Michael. Cute girl comes on to you and you react like it’s an insult and an inconvenience.”

“Not an insult, but definitely an inconvenience.”

“Oh?”

Michael scowled. “There’s someone else.”

“And is she here?”

“Why would that matter?”

“High school romances tend not to last long into freshman year.” She took a drag off her cigarette and looked at him seductively. “You here, her there. One of you will go astray, I guarantee it.”

“You seem determined to make that me.”

“You can either control your destiny or be carried along like the tide. Your choice.”

“And yet you don’t respect my choice to say no.”

“Loyalty isn’t what’s holding you back.” Deborah eyed the growing bulge in Michael’s pants. “Why cling to it? Are you afraid?”

“I’m not.” Said Michael defensively. “It’s…complicated.”

“Virgin.” Said Deb flatly. She finished her cigarette. “Ah, that explains much.” She moved closer and ran her hands up his thigh. Michael grabbed her arm and pulled it away.

“The answer is still no.”

Deb shrugged. “You really are one for firsts. First you beat Boar on the tourney field. Then you turn me down. That's never happened before either.”

Boar let out a loud guffaw. Michael and Deb both spun toward the noise, only to notice both Boar and Mitch watching from the apartment doorway.

“Spies.” Said Deb disparagingly. “Not a moment’s privacy.”

“Oh,” chuckled Boar. “Itt was worth it to see you get turned down.”

“First time for everything.” Said Deb nonchalantly.

"You people are something else. Booze, parties," he looked at Deb. "Sex?"

"Of course." Deb nodded. “Welcome to college.”

"Not exactly my kind of thing." Michael's hand went almost reflexively to the gold cross necklace he was wearing, as if trying to remind himself of his beliefs.

Deb reached up and took his hand in hers. She looked at the necklace with great interest. "We'll see about that, Churchboy." she teased.

----

Boar marched across campus towards the theatre building. It was a sunny but cool day and it had been three days since the tourney and the party. Life in the real world had once again asserted itself. The school term had begun and there were classes to be attended.

Boar’s dedication to his schoolwork was often less than enthusiastic. But during the first few weeks of term, attendance was largely mandatory. So here he was, on his way to his third class of the day.

As he drew closer to the theatre building, he noticed Mitch on the sidewalk ahead of him. With Mitch was Michael and another friend of theirs named Karl.

“Hey, Churchboy.” Said Boar teasingly.

“Don’t start with me, Boar.” Said Michael with annoyance.

“You know you’re not going to live it down.”

“I’d like to think I hold myself to a higher moral standard.”

“Sounds to me like a lousy excuse to avoid some nooky.”

“Or rather, if my guess is correct, it’s a good reason to avoid your sloppy seconds.”

“Touché” said Mitch.

Karl spoke up for the first time with a chuckle. “Got you there.” Boar just shrugged.

“Anyhow,” interjected Mitch, giving Boar a playful slap on the shoulder “found out our friend here is into more than just SCA. Michael says he has a Shadowrun decker from his game back home.”

“So looking for a gaming group?”

Michael shrugged. “It would be kinda nice. Went to the BRPA meeting last Friday. Wasn’t impressed.”

“Some good folks there, but they tend to be D&D or GURPS obsessed. Looking to play a different game? Best look elsewhere.” Said Karl. “We’re probably getting together tonight. You guys available?”

“Should be.” Said Boar.

Mitch also nodded.“Your place again?”

“Yeah. Come around 6. You too Michael. Bring that decker of yours.”

-----

Michael marched into his dorm room in Thomas. Thomas was part of a section of dorms known on campus as the Upper Quad. They were run down and dirty, but tended to be the rooms taken by the more studious and serious of students. A far cry from the often raucous environment of Pritchard across campus.

“So, I found another group of gamers.” Michael announced to his roommate.

Corwin Morse turned away from his desk. “Which game this time?”

“Shadowrun”

“Good for you. Just hope you’re not going to shun our BattleTech throw-down this Saturday.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“You know, is there any game you don’t play?”

Michael sat down at his own desk and turned on his Amiga computer. “Shadowrun is about as close to the old wizards and sorcery style game as I get. More into sci-fi than fantasy.”

Corwin shrugged. “And yet, you’re in the SCA.”

“Fantasy is one thing.” Said Michael, giving his rattan sword a little tap. “History is another.”

"Let me guess." supposed Corwin. "Overly conservative parents didn't go for the whole D&D thing, but you could sneak in Star Trek, Star Wars, and the like."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Your parents aren't here." reminded Corwin. "You don't have to play by their rules anymore."

"That's the second time in the last week I've had someone make commentary about my upbringing and beliefs." growled Michael.

"Dude, all I'm saying is that you don't have to live in their shadow anymore. This is college. You can find your own way now. Explore, experiment, try new things. What are you afraid of?"

"Who says I'm afraid?"

"It's written all over you, Michael. What do you think's going to happen if you try something new?"

"There's a difference between testing the waters and jumping in whole hog. The first lets you navigate through life safely. The other makes you a headline. Freshman found dead from alcohol poisoning. Like that kid on Saturday."

"And you truly think that'll happen to you if you play a game of D&D?" joked Corwin. "Oh, no, magic, and wizards, and demons. Call the Church Police! We've got a future Satan worshiper here."

"No, not Dungeons & Dragons." Deb's face came into Michael's mind. "Other things on the other hand..."

-----

“Alright, that four karma points for stealing the formula. Good job everyone.” Said Karl.

Boar sat back, scribbling on his character sheet. “And thanks to Edge, we had our best haul in a long time.”

“Knowledge is power. Knowledge is money.” Said Michael. He jotted a few notes on his own character sheet.

“No one ever wants to play a decker in this group.” Said Mitch.

“That’s a lot of money you’ve not been making.” Said Michael, finishing his character updates and taking a swig of a Coke. “A lot of money you won’t be passing up in the future.”

“Sounds to me like he wants to sign on.” Said Mitch. “Join the club.”

“Who? The Edge or his player?” said Geoffrey, another player in the group.

“I’d have to say it might be hard to get my character without me.” Said Michael with a sly smile.

“True that.” Said Karl. “So, I guess we have a decker.”

“Thanks guys.” Said Michael. “Nice of you to let the freshman in. Anyhow, I’ve got an 8am tomorrow, so I need to get back to Thomas.”

“I’ll drive you over.” Said Mitch.

“Thanks.” Said Michael, gathering up his gaming books and dice.

The two wandered outside to Mitch’s car. It was a rather beat-up light blue Chevrolet Camaro.

“It’ll make point 5 past light speed.” Said Mitch, quoting Star Wars in anticipation of Michael’s thoughts.

“Dude, I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s a car. Four wheels and it runs is still better than what I have.”

“Well I do call it the Millennium Camaro for a reason. Hop in.”

Michael went around to the passenger side and got in. He shuffled his feet amidst the rather sizable pile of soda cans on the floor.

“Hey, I deliver pizza.” Explained Mitch. “Those late shifts require much caffeine.”

“I can see that, but has Han Solo gone from smuggling spice to smuggling aluminum?”

Mitch laughed and started up the car. They headed from Blacksburg towards campus. Even at the late hour, an orange haze could be seen on the horizon in the direction of the university.

“Be easy enough to walk home. Just go toward the light.” Said Michael.

“Yeah, but it would take time.” Said Mitch. “Hey, look there. It’s our favorite camp follower.”

“Deborah.” Said Michael flatly, spying the figure Mitch was pointing to.

Mitch slowed the car and pulled over towards the left-side curb. He stuck his head out and called out, “Hey, Deb.”

Deb turned. “Evening, Mitch. Out on delivery?”

“Off tonight.”

“Who’s that with you? Oh, hi, Churchboy.”

“Would you please stop calling me that?” complained Michael.

“There’s an easy solution to that.”

“You said yourself that there’s a lot of fish in the sea. Why chase the one that doesn’t want caught?”

Deb flashed a devilish smile. “I like the challenge.”

“I need to get back.” Reminded Michael.

“Yeah, early classes tomorrow.” Explained Mitch. “See you around, Deb.”

“Indeed.” Mitch slid back into the driver’s seat and drove off.

“Dude, she’s got the hots for you, you know?”

“Look, I’m just a conquest, a note for the record books, and you know it.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’d like to think of myself as something more than a piece of meat. Save that part of my life for someone worthy of it.”

“So what’s her name?”

“Excuse me?”

“You already have that someone in mind. High school girlfriend? The one got away? The one pined for from afar? Has to be one of them if you’re so determined to avoid our Deb like the plague.”

“Rebecca.”

“Ah, the Mitch strikes again. I knew it. Must be something special to keep you out of Deb’s pants.”

“Dude, given how many times around the block she’s probably been, it wouldn’t take much to keep me out of there. But, yeah, Rebecca is something else.”

“Blonde, brunette?”

“Redhead.”

“Ah, the best kind.” Said Mitch, pulling in behind the Thomas Hall dormitory.

Michael dug into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He yanked out a photo and handed it to Mitch. On it was a picture of a lanky redhead with glasses.

“Cute.” Commented Mitch. “She here at Tech or…”

“Senior year back home. She’s a year behind me.”

“Ah. Well, good luck with her.” He gave the photo back. “What Deb said is true. Most high school romances don’t last through the freshman year. Especially when she’s there and you’re here.”

“We’ll be different. Thanks for the ride.” Michael stepped out and grabbed his gaming materials.

“Sure thing. Any time.”

Act One Chapter Two