Chapter Twenty One

Hero's Call: Chapter Twenty One

“Well, Ms…” the principal said, checking the forms on the desk in front of him, “Tabernacle, I’m sure your son would fit in quite nicely here at Buckland High. We may not be a big school, but I think that makes our students a closer knit family that openly accepts new members when they come along.”

Greg Bradley had been the principal of Buckland High School for nearly ten years. In all that time he had known very few children who transferred into their midst and were openly accepted. Most were met with a cold shoulder and some of the geekier ones were welcomed with open arms that took them directly to the bathroom to give them a swirly. They were all little heathens as far as he was concerned. It was his job to keep the madness controlled until the little pricks graduated to give room for more little pricks to take their place. It was a hard job, but he was good at it. At least, he thought he was good at it. No one contested that fact openly, so he took it as a good sign.

He was a barrel-chested man that liked to emphasize his massive midsection by pushing his shoulder blades together when he walked. His hair was dyed a light shade of brown to cover the rapidly spreading gray patches. It was loaded with product and parted to one side in such a way that created a small shelf of hair that extended slightly out over his forehead. He had a mouth full of perfectly straight, unnaturally white teeth that he loved to show off any chance he got whether it was smiling at a joke or sneering at a student who had stepped out of line. Bradley was currently in the throes of a mid-life crisis that gave him an inflated opinion of himself and his level of sexual appeal to the opposite sex. He was functioning under the opinion that every female student in the school was madly in love with him and that most of them thought of him while their inexperienced boyfriends fumbled around under their shirts or down their pants. Suffice it to say, it was a delusion that he would learn was not true one day, much to his chagrin and the ruling of the courts.

The young woman in front of him was exactly the kind of woman that would be putty in his hands, he knew. If, that is, he felt like doing some sculpting. Bradley couldn’t believe she had a fifteen year old son. She didn’t look a day over nineteen. Her boyishly short chestnut hair made her look uniquely sex in conjunction with the patch of freckles that sat innocently under each eye. She was wearing a white blouse that was nearly see-through and unbuttoned low enough to show the meager cleavage her small breasts produced. Bradley was typically a big breast kind of guy, but he was willing to make an exception in her case. Her firm, muscular legs stretched out from a form fitting gray skirt; a pair of sensible heels covered her feet. The thought of a sexy librarian swam to Bradley’s mind and he could feel himself stiffening in his pants.

“I truly hope he does fit in here, Mr. Bradley,” the young woman said. “My Xander is something of a gifted young man. That has unfortunately caused him to have some troubles with the other kids in some of his other schools. His intelligence has made him an outcast. I am hoping that Buckland is the place where he will finally find a place for himself.”

Bradley nodded. They were going to eat that kid alive.

“I’m sure he’ll have no problems making friends,” he lied. “There is just one little issue.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Issue?”

Bradley picked the forms up off his desk and leafed through them. “Yes,” he restated. “It seems we don’t have the transcripts from any of Xander’s previous schools. The aptitude tests he took for us have excellent results, but without those transcripts we won’t know what classes he’s taken or how he’s been doing. It may seem like a moot point with these test scores, but it’s just standard procedure. We can’t admit Xander until we’ve received his transcripts. If you’d like to write down the name of his previous schools, I’ll be more than happy to have my assistant call and have them faxed over.”

He produced a pen from his desk drawer with a small pad of sticky notes and set them on the other side of the desk for her to take.

“No problem,” she said.

The young woman leaned forward to grab the pen and notepad. Her blouse hung loosely away from her chest, giving Bradley a full view of what was underneath. He made no effort to avert his eyes. She leaned back with the pen and notepad in hand, and lowered the pen to paper. Before writing anything, she put the opposite end of the pen on her lower lip and ran it slowly back and forth. Bradley watched her toy sensuously with the pen. He didn’t know if she had any idea what she was doing, but he liked to think he did. She twirled the pen around her lips for another few seconds before lowering it and looking back to Bradley.

“You know,” she said in an innocent tone, “it’s the stupidest thing, but I’m drawing a blank on the name of Xander’s last school. Can I call back later and give the names to your assistant. I know classes are about to start for the day, and I don’t want Xander to have to losing any more time.”

Bradley was two things �" to himself if not to anyone else �" 1) a raging tempest of raw sexual magnetism, and 2) a stickler for the rules.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Tabernacle,” he said professionally. “We can’t admit Xander into any classes without those transcripts.”

Her bottom lip pouted out slightly. “Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do?”

She ran a finger absently over one of the loose buttons on her blouse. Bradley could not help but notice the striking similarities between this situation and a pornographic video he’d seen once. The thought excited him.

“Well, I’m not sure…” he stammered.

The young woman uncrossed her legs and stood up from her chair. She walked around the desk and leaned against it next to him. She bent down and put her lips against his right ear lobe, her right hand gently pressed against his chest.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered seductively. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Bradley’s heart was beating so fast he knew should had to be able to feel it pounding in his chest. He was having a hard time composing his thoughts. All he could think about was pulling the young woman’s skirt up and taking her right there on his desk. He swallowed hard, the sound clearly audible in the quite office.

“Maybe Xander can sit in on a few classes just for today,” he agreed finally. “But you’ll have to call my assistant as soon as possible so we can get those transcripts and officially enroll him here. Deal?”

She leaned back to look him in the eyes and smiled devilishly. “Deal.”

“Give me a few minutes to arrange some classes for him to sit in on,” Bradley told her. “You can take a moment to let Xander know what we’ve discussed if you like. He’ll just need to be back here in fifteen minutes for someone to walk him to his first class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bradley,” she said genuinely. “I truly appreciate it.”

“Well, we can’t let a fertile mind get stagnant,” he agreed. “Have a wonderful rest of your day, Ms. Tabernacle.”

She collected her purse and walked to the door of the office.

“Come, Xander,” she said to the young man sitting in the plastic chair in the office. “Walk your mother to her car before your first day of school.”

Bradley didn’t really look at Xander. He was just another punk teenager to the seasoned principal. If he had looked, he would have been disturbed by the dark, threatening aura that the boy seemed to be emitting to the world. He would have felt exactly what everyone else felt when Xander was near them. Cold. Lonely. Hopeless. No, Greg Bradley didn’t see any of that. All he could see was the perfectly sculpted backside of the boy’s mother as it swayed perfectly out of the office.

“Erin,” he said absently into the intercom after depressing the button, “call Calliope Bishop down here. She has a new student to show around.”

 

Shortly after her meeting with Buckland High’s principal, Xena and Czar Destructo’s newest clone stepped outside into the cool early morning air. Students were beginning to arrive for school and it created a difficult current of teenage kids who didn’t give a damn if there was someone trying to get past. The clone kept his eyes on the ground as he walked heedlessly toward the parking lot. Xena walked a few paces behind him, not wanting to get too close. He always made her feel like life wasn’t worth living if she got too close. She felt bad for the students that would have to deal with him.

When they were out of earshot of the other students, he turned to look at Xena.

“I can’t believe you forgot the transcripts,” he said in a sullen, accusatory tone.

She shot daggers at him with a look. “I told you your father was busy. He’s forging them right now and he’ll fax them over when they’re done.”

He stopped walking and turned on her. “First of all,” he hissed, “he’s not my father. I told you to stop calling him that. Second, how would he feel to know you were shaking your a*s for that goon in there?”

Xena shrugged. “Destructo and I have an understanding that I am to complete this mission by any means necessary. And besides,” she added, “me shaking my a*s is the only thing got you into this school today. So you’re welcome.”

She marched past him without making eye contact on the way to the rental car they had picked up the night before when they arrived in town. Her heels clicked flatly on the pavement of the parking lot. The clone hastened to catch up to her.

“So what am I calling myself for this whole charade?” he asked when they had finally fallen in step with each other. “He never gave me a name. Just wants me to call myself Czar Destructo. Something tells me that’s not the best idea when I’m supposed to be a normal teenager.”

“Xander Tabernacle,” she answered him.

He looked at her in disbelief. “Xander Tabernacle? What am I, a Sunday paper comic strip character?”

“It’s what he came up with,” she said back to him, sighing. “Do you think I want to be Ms. Amelia Tabernacle? It’s only temporary. Besides, it’s a lot better than Terrence Swanson. What were you, a Bible salesman?”

“Hey,” Xander snapped, “I was named after my grandfather. And, yes, he was a Bible salesman.”

Xena rolled her eyes. “If he could see his grandson now.”

They arrived at the car, and Xena unlocked the doors with the remote key. Xander opened the back door and pulled his book bag which contained a single peanut butter and jelly sandwich and several pints of fresh Ohio air. Xena opened the driver’s side door and looked at the clone over the top of the car.

“Just quit complaining and let’s do what we came here to do so we can get back,” she said testily. “You see what you can find out from the kids. I’ll work the parents. You find any info about the new Hero let me know immediately so I can report it back to him. Do you think you can do that with a minimal amount of whining?”

“Whatever,” he replied and rolled his eyes. Despite his original birth date, Xander was extremely adept at acting like a twentieth century teenager.

“Have a good day at school, honey,” Xena said in a mock motherly tone as a pair of teenagers walked by.

Xander gave her a bemused look and stomped off back toward the school. Xena got in the car and started the engine. She wasn’t completely happy with her current assignment, but she knew what part it played in Destructo’s master plan. She’d do it without outwardly complaining because she was loyal to him. But when it was all over, he had damn well better build her a room big enough to drive a semi-truck through in their new palace as her reward. She deserved that much, she thought.