Run Ch 02

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. It contains heterosexual and lesbian sexual activity.

--------------- -----------------

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.

This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.

This is part of an ongoing series. Please check out earlier part(s) for background and character history.

----- -------------

Gail had been talking with Mr. Keibler and a number of other Special Olympics volunteers. The athletes were having a morning of practice which seemed to be a great deal of fun. It was a bit intoxicating for Gail. Todd still seemed a bit nervous, but he was loosening up.

The rest of the volunteers, with a few exceptions, were middle-aged or older persons, most of whom were female. Gail didn't think she'd ever met a nicer group of people. She almost forgot that the reason she had volunteered to help in the first place was because she had sort of been caught stalking Pat and had to think up something quick.

Gail hadn't actually seen more than a glimpse of her quarry of curiosity all morning. The girl had been working with her brother Buddy on his track skills. Pat, who normally wore the same color slacks and tee-shirt every day, was actually wearing comfortable shorts that day, and Gail found herself envying Pat's legs. 'Those things are fucking ripped!' she thought, determining that her own legs were suddenly quite homely.

She wandered over and grabbed another tray of sports drinks, taking them from venue to venue and distributing them to grateful participants. She smiled at Todd, who was doing measures over at the long jump. Then she noticed that his smile vanished and he was staring opened eyed at something directly behind Gail. She turned around.

There was Pat. The smile that Gail had seen on the girl's face earlier that week and even earlier that day was gone. A more stern and familiar visage adorned her face.

"May I ask what you're doing here?" Pat asked evenly.

Gail looked like a deer in the headlights. She held up a cup. "Gatorade?"

Pat just stared at her.

"I'm a volunteer here . . . now." Gail was withering under the force of that stare. "I just started today."

Pat's face almost made an expression, and it was one that made the other girl nervous. It was almost a sneer.

"You just HAPPEN to start volunteering here the same week that your buddy Keith tries to dig up dirt on me? Yes," she started in response to Gail's unspoken defense, "I see you two together all the time, so don't try denying it. Christ, I almost bought his 'I'm sorry' line too. Now he's got you spying on me for him?"

Gail hated being on the defensive, so she did the first (and probably not wisest) thing she could think of. "Kiss my ass!" she said.

There was a moment of silence, and Gail realized she had just said something provoking to a potentially dangerous girl, so she realized she needed to say something else.

"Keith has nothing to do with me being here today. He thought I was crazy for doing it," she added.

"Don't lie to me," Pat responded, a little venom in her voice. "You honestly expect me to believe that it is coincidence that Keith's friend is volunteering . . ."

"Good grief, Keith didn't put me up to this! Why can't you get that through your head?! I was curious as to where you hurried off to after school, so I followed you once, and it was entirely my deal. Well, I drug Todd along, but he's a boyfriend and therefore has little choice." Gail had meant that to lighten the mood, but Pat wasn't biting.

"Why is everyone suddenly so damn concerned with what I do?" Pat shot back.

"Because . . ." Gail gave in a bit. "Because you're different and we're just a bunch of kids with nothing else to do but try and figure out why. I saw you out here and saw how . . . how much fun you seemed to be having and how much fun THEY were having," she said, waving at the athletes, "that I decided to help out. Honest. If you're going to get mad at anyone, don't make it Keith. Be mad at me."

"No problem," Pat replied. She had another statement on the edge of her lips when she found herself wrapped up in an enthusiastic hug. Her brother had run over and had wrapped his pale arms around her and was trying to jump up and down with his captive.

"I did it!" he exclaimed. "I took third!" He had an enormous smile on his wide face, and Pat's face lit up when she saw it.

"Excellent Buddy!" she replied with a warmth that Gail couldn't imagine coming from the woman. "Did you keep your head down and watch the lines like I told you?"

"I did good! I did good!" came the only response Pat was likely to get. He looked at Gail, not losing that smile. "Hi! I ran and got third!"

"So I hear," Gail said. If she was going to avoid being eviscerated by Pat, she figured being cool with her brother would be a good plan. "Great job!"

"Thanks!" He turned back to Pat. "I want to run again! Watch me!"

"Buddy, we've got to get home and get you cleaned up before the movie. You want to go to the movie with your friends, don't you?"

"Yeah, but . . . " Buddy stopped and rubbed his finger up and down the bridge of his nose. "But I want to run again!"

"Okay," Pat said. She stunk at telling Buddy "no." "But you'll have to run really fast, so we don't miss our ride, okay? Just a couple more times around."

"Okay!" he said, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her back to the track.

Todd wandered over and put his arm around Gail's shoulders, and it almost made her jump out of her skin.

"Calm down! You're like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs!" he said.

"I'm sorry. I thought she was going to beat the hell out of me. She thinks I'm here as a spy for Keith or something."

"You are."

"Am not! I'm here spying for me and me alone. You're just here because you're cute."

"I feel so cheap," he replied back, giving her a kiss on the lips.

Unbeknownst to them, Pat looked back and saw them with each other. Her heart felt tight in her chest, so she quickly looked away. That type of happiness wasn't meant for people like her. She watched as Buddy took off down the track, and her heart felt a little lighter.

Mr. Keibler wandered by where Gail and Todd were standing. "Hey, I'm getting ready to head over to the theater, so would you two mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure," Gail said. "Anything." She quickly realized what a mistake that statement was.

"Excellent! Are you two going to the movie? We're seeing Madagascar!"

"Sure," Todd said, then looked a little embarrassed. He was a bit of an animated-film fan.

"Good. Could you give Pat and Buddy a ride? I was going to take them, but I've got to get going. Thanks! It's a real help!" he said as he turned and headed towards his car, leaving a wide-eyes and slack-jawed pair of teenagers behind him.

"Oh . . ." Todd said.

". . . shit," Gail finished. She turned around. Buddy was half-way around the track and looked exhausted, and Pat was looking a little worried. Gail stiffened up her back and walked over. Todd stayed at a safe distance.

"Uhm . . . Mr. Keibler had to leave and asked us to give you and Buddy a ride to the movie," she said nervously. The anger that Pat must have felt was almost visibly tangible.

"What?" she said slowly, turning around and seeing that, indeed, Mr. Keibler was gone. "Is this your idea of a joke?" she asked.

"No. I kind of backed into it on accident. Listen, I'm happy to give you guys a lift. I promise I won't ask any questions or say anything. And if us being here pisses you off so badly, we'll stop after today. Okay?"

Pat mulled it over. "Very well," she replied clearly.

Buddy finished his run and ran over with his characteristic cheerfulness and hug. Gail noticed that the first thing Pat did was check his pulse. After a few seconds, she seemed . . . relieved.

"Buddy, this is . . . Gail," Pat said, trying to remember the girl's name.

"And this is Todd," Gail said. Todd offered his hand to Buddy, who shook it vigorously. Gail was proud of her man.

"Gail's giving us a ride home and then to the movie," Pat said, trying to force cheer into her voice. "How does that sound?"

"Yay!" Buddy exclaimed. "Can I ride up front?"

Gail smiled. "Absolutely. You can be my copilot."

"I'm a copilot!" Buddy shouted at his sister.

Pat had wanted to object, but it was too late. 'Well, hopefully it won't hurt.'

Gail noticed that Pat seemed less than enthusiastic. As soon as she pointed out where her car was, Buddy was off at a trot. "I hope that's okay. I didn't mean . . ."

"He just doesn't get to sit up front very often," Pat interrupted. She stopped there. No point in going into THAT story.

The three teenagers strolled after their more enthusiastic counterpart.

Gail decided to risk conversation. "This is going to sound stupid, I know, but . . . but what kind of handicap does Buddy have?"

Pat didn't turn her head. She was debating whether or not this was something they needed to know. Then she sighed. "He has Down Syndrome, and has some problems with his hearing. That's why he talks so loud," she continued.

"Does he have high blood pressure or something? I saw you taking his pulse."

Pat turned. "Listen, I don't know what you're after, but my brother is off limits, okay? Whatever you people have planned . . ."

"There is no plan!" Gail almost shouted.

Todd felt obliged to step in. "She's not kidding. She never really plans anything."

Gail glared at her now-on-thin-ice boyfriend, then looked back at Pat. "We're not trying to hurt or embarrass or . . . anything . . . anybody. I'm just trying to make conversation, and I'm trying to understand things."

Pat fought to keep her temper and suspicions under control. "He's at a high risk for developing heart problems. I just try to keep an eye open for signs."

Gail decided to stop with the questions as Pat was already on edge. They climbed into Gail's car. Pat looked uncomfortable, like she didn't know how to behave. She and Todd sat as far apart from each other as possible. Buddy, on the other hand, was investigating everything from the glove compartment to the fuzzy dice and air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror. He stuck his head out the window, much to the chagrin of his sister.

As odd as things had been that day, Gail was in for an even bigger shock. This one came in the form of the house that Pat and buddy called home. The house at the other end of the iron gate and long driveway. It was huge! There had to be a couple dozen rooms in that place!

And what was weirder was the Pat looked embarrassed about it. "C'mon Buddy. Get up to your room and get cleaned up," she said, as soon as they walked inside. About that time, what appeared to be a butler strode up.

"Hello, Ms. Baker," he said, a faint smile on his lips as he noticed the other young people in Pat's presence. "You have . . . company?"

Gail wondered why the man seemed so surprised. Didn't Pat EVER have people over?

"Don't start," she said, albeit a bit fondly. "This is Gail and Todd. They're temporary volunteers for the Springfield Special Olympics chapter," she said, emphasizing "temporary." She looked at the two interlopers. "Would you two like to get cleaned up or . . . I guess . . . uhm . . ."

"That's alright," Todd said smoothly, realizing that Pat was struggling to be polite. "We really didn't do anything sweat-inducing."

"Why don't you go shower and I'll get your friends something to drink while we wait?"

"They're not friends," Pat said sharply, then realized how bitchy she had sounded.

"Of course," the man said, a little more somber . . . almost as if disappointed. He watched as Pat went upstairs.

"I'm sorry," Gail said when Pat had vanished from view. "That was a little awkward."

"It's alright," the man said kindly. "I'm used to it. My name is Tobias Smith, by the way. I work for Patrice's parents.

Gail's eyes opened wide. "Her name is Patrice?"

Tobias smiled and winked. "And she HATES being called that, so I would advise against it."

Todd made a "zip" motion across his mouth. Patrice was . . . well, a "girly" name.

Tobias fetched two glasses of lemonade, then sat down next to the young couple.

"Does . . . does Pat never have friends over?" Gail asked.

"I don't know if I should be discussing Ms. Baker's affairs with anyone," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"Yes you did," Todd said. "You've been curious about her for a week."

Gail nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"She is a bit of an oddity," Tobias said.

Gail stood up and stretched her legs. Then she noticed a couple of large cases against the far wall of the parlor, and that those cases contained trophies of some kind. She went over and had a look.

One case contained a scattering of awards, military medals and trophies with the name "Reginald Baker" engraved on them. 'Must be her dad,' Gail thought. The trophies seemed to be martial arts related, with a lot of second and third places won.

The second case really caught her attention. More martial arts trophies, but all of them had Pat's name on them, and there were a whole lot of first-place markers there. She noticed that Tobias was next to her.

"For crying out loud, these are ALL hers?"

"Yes," the man said proudly as Todd joined them. "Ms. Baker is quite an athlete. She's been competing since she was barely out of diapers. She's won tournaments in six different countries on three continents. She's currently taking a break from active competition."

"Good grief! I knew she was dangerous, but damn!" Todd muttered.

"She's not dangerous . . . really," Mr. Smith said. He was obviously wondering if he had said too much.

Gail looked towards the magnificent spiral staircase where Pat had vanished to. "Mr. Smith, we're not just volunteers. We go to the same school that Pat does. She got into a bit of a scuffle with a friend . . . actually, she kinda almost broke his arm. Apparently he was 'in her way,' and I got curious so I followed her to find out where she was going and now I'm volunteering for the Special Olympics which I really think could be fun . . ."

"Remember to breathe," Todd said.

Gail paused. She had just completely leveled with a veritable stranger's butler about her stalking habits, and wasn't quite sure what to expect at that point. She just really wanted to understand Pat, and she had a feeling that Tobias might know things. And he was obviously fond of the girl.

"She's . . . a complicated girl," Tobias said. "And there are reasons she is the way she is. If you are genuinely interested in getting to know her, I think the end rewards would be worth it."

Todd pulled Gail close to him. "That's polite-speak for 'leave it alone' sweetie."

Gail nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot or anything. Sometimes I wonder if she realizes that if she really wants to be left alone that acting so . . . aloof . . . might not be the way to go."

"I don't think she necessarily wants to be left alone," Tobias replied, somewhat quietly. He glanced toward the stairs. "If you want to understand her you might make better progress if you keep in mind that she . . . Patrice has more of a military mentality than that of an eighteen year old girl. Most of the time anyway."

Gail was curious about those comments, but didn't have time to follow up on them as Pat descended the staircase.

"Almost ready," she said, once again adorned her in olive-green pants and black tee-shirt. "Buddy is probably messing around again," she said, rolling her eyes and allowing a feint smile to play across her lips. Then she straightened up and looked at Tobias. "Are . . . Mr. and Mrs. Baker around?" she asked.

"No ma'am. Your father is out on the course with a client, and your mother is . . ."

"At work?" came the bitter interruption. It was about then that Pat remembered that there were other people in the room. She may be a bit of an isolationist, but she still had manners. "Did Tobias show you around?"

"I thought I might leave that to you," the butler said, then exited through a door.

Patrice was annoyed. She knew what Tobias was trying to do, as the crafty old fox had been trying to get her to be more sociable for many years. He had just stuck her in the role of hostess, and it was a role she was quite unsuited for.

"I guess . . . uhm . . . this is the kitchen," she started, not quite sure how to go about this. Room by room, she showed Todd and Gail the entirety of the bottom floor of the spacious estate, including indoor pool, weight room, living room, den, two studies, dining room, entertainment room and home office. She gave a very detailed recitation of the statistics of the house, from square footage to style to history.

Gail realized that Pat wasn't bragging. She was acting as a tour guide, seemingly with no personal investment in the property.

"What's upstairs?"

"Oh, that's the personal quarters," Pat said.

"You mean your room?"

"I guess so," came Pat's reply. There was a moment of awkward silence. "Would you like to see it? The upstairs I mean? It's really not very interesting."

At that moment, Buddy came charging downstairs. "I wanna show my room!" he said boisterously. He grabbed Gail by the hand and drug her up the stairs.

"Hey, let go of my girlfriend," Todd said, more surprised than anything.

"Don't bother," Pat said, shaking her head. "Once he gets an idea in his head, he's got to see it through."

Todd nodded. That was one of the most genuinely human things he had heard her say. He was thinking back to what Tobias had said about her mind set. He was a military brat himself, so he thought he might be able to relate to her.

"So, your folks are hardcore workers hunh?"

"You could say that," Pat said.

"What do they do?"

"Mr. Baker is the president of Global Advertising. Mrs. Baker owns her own import / export company."

"Do you always refer to your parents as Mr. and Mrs. Baker?"

Pat stopped for a minute. She heard Buddy's voice as he showed Gail all his worldly belongings. "Most of the time."

Buddy burst out of his room, Gail still in tow. Much to Pat's chagrin and surprise, he was pulling Gail into Pat's room.

"Buddy! No!"

It was too late.

Gail found herself in the one place she never thought she would be . . . Pat Baker's bedroom. 'There's a lot of porn stories that start out with that line,' she thought. The room was . . . stark.

Gail couldn't imagine that this was the room of a teenaged girl. There were no posters, no CD player or CDs, no television or clothes strewn about the floor. There was a simple bed on the bamboo floor. It was a large room with a training dummy, weight bag, weight set and exercise mat. That was it, except . . .

Gail noticed a small, homemade-looking bookshelf next to the bed. On it were some cheap plastic trophies and a few ribbons, all of which were more "thanks for competing" type prizes. And all of them belonged to Michael "Buddy" Baker.

"Why aren't these downstairs?" Gail asked.

"There . . . there isn't room," Pat said, almost meekly. No one bought the excuse. There was more room downstairs in the entryway for another house, so fitting another trophy shelf wouldn't be a problem.

"He got that one for participating in the Springfield Marathon," Pat said, an unusual warmth in her voice. "He made it a long way on that one. This was for third place in the long jump, but he doesn't much like that event. He stopped completely when he started doing straight racing and relays. This was his sportsmanship trophy for the 2000 games."