*Earned leadership is a blessing; assigned leadership is a burden*
(Frontma: bringing lines to life)
(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I'd like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)
THIS IS HOW IT IS GOING TO BE
It started at 6:45 as we began filing out of the dorm toward the dining hall and breakfast. We received texts, or our dorm mothers received them if we didn't have that function, assigning us a tribe we belonged to. What was a tribe? No one seemed to have a clue what this entailed for us.
"So," Iona was the first to ask me, "What tribe are you part of?"
"My tribe's called the Mediator tribe," I responded. "What lame-ass name does your tribe have?" Iona blinked at me, took my phone from my hands, and looked at it while we walked.
"Mercy and I are in 17," Rio sneered. "Why did your group merit a name and ours didn't?"
"Because Zane doesn't have a tribe," Iona figured. "He is not of the mediator tribe; he's a mediator. The real question is, how many mediators are there and what is their responsibility?"
"I'm in tribe three," Vivian volunteered. "I do have a notation but no indication who to see about it." The conversations around us were going in the same general direction, the girls trying to figure what sort of disruptions this would cause. The teachers put a kibosh on students walking around and finding out where their friends were placed so the text and phone messages being tossed around were obscene.
The surprise going to breakfast had saved virtually all of the freshmen from Handmaiden's Duty but they snapped us up heading for Assembly. I had Frederica Nicholas who decided to make a game of her giving me a word and me having to create a poetic verse. I rapidly learned the more risqué my verse, the more touchy-feely she became. (And she is a Rhaine supporter, huh?) I am a glutton for sexual foreplay no matter where it comes from.
Entry into the Assembly Hall brought its own special form of confusion. All the seats had numbers for the tribes that could sit there. I didn't find my group anywhere but I did catch the fact that Christina's group had been broken up. I stopped by Heaven to put a comforting hand on her shoulder because she looked terribly unsettled before I approached Ms. Goodswell on the stage.
My spiritual advisor stood up, walked to the edge of the stage, and knelt down so we could talk privately.
"Hi, Teach. I can't seem to find my groups/tribe's area," I said pleasantly. "Can you help me out? Hell, can you tell me what's going on?"
"Zane, your seat is right over there," she said, pointing to a chair on the front row – aisle seat. She smiled sadly. "All I can tell you about this program right now is that I trust you." Oh crap, that didn't sound good. Sitting on the front row – the region normally reserved for seniors – was just as disturbing. I sensed an epic boning in my future and I was sure I knew who the chick with the strap-on was.
Chancellor Bass came to the podium and led us through the first ten minutes of the session. I could tell she was simmering with anger and resentment over whatever the upcoming fiasco was, and she showed it. She introduced Vice Chancellor Scarlett, then sat down abruptly. Her enthusiasm wasn't muted; it was buried in the core of the earth.
"Greetings, students of Freedom Fellowship University; I believe we stand at the first step to a great, glorious, and blessed experiment," Vice Chancellor Dr. Victoria Scarlett began. Her plan did sound grandiose, was certainly going to be famous (or infamous), and whichever supernatural powers put their mark on this train wreck, I was sure we'd discover the Arch-angel Morningstar also had his sulfuric fingerprints on it when the CSI's were finally brought in.
The basics of the scheme: There would be eighteen tribes of fifty or more members. Each tribe had all four grades in it but was focused on declared majors so that the girls could support one another. Each tribe would internally determine how they would regulate themselves as well. Externally, relations would be overseen by the Mediator – yes, that was in the singular – as in one: me.
At this point, I was wondering if jumping up, shooting Scarlett in the heart, and crying 'Sic semper tyrannis' was appropriate. I didn't have a gun and realistically, Victoria didn't deserve death for what she was putting all of us through. A few days in a pillory would suffice. No, she was making me be the 'Man' of our academic community, our judge and arbitrator.
As for my job qualifications, or lack thereof; I am considered morally loose, if not downright deviant. I'm an eighteen-year-old boy telling twenty-one-year-old women what to do, I have no legal experience – oh, yes, and half the campus hates my guts. I almost missed it when Dr. Scarlett added that Vivian would remain my guardian.
Maybe Vivian would throw herself in the path of a sharpened pencil, pen, or stylus aimed at my heart by any number of the young ladies that wanted me dead, just like a Secret Service Agent.
"You will be informed of the location of your first meetings. Each tribe will meet at eight o'clock tonight and tomorrow night to create the foundations of your group," Dr. Scarlett informed us.
"Tribes five and seventeen will be meeting in the Solarium of Alan Smithee dorm, if that is okay with Mr. Braxton." Victoria looked my way. I stood up in case anyone missed my discomfort for being called out and actually asked by a lead educator for anything resembling permission on this campus.
"Eight o'clock tonight?" I questioned. "I don't know if that works for me. I have a Brazilian body wax at eight and have scheduled my eyebrows to be plucked at 8:45, plus there is a new episode of NCIS: Los Angeles at nine."
"How about they promise to keep the noise level down?" Victoria volleyed right back at me without missing a beat.
"Very well, Dr. Scarlett, if you personally guarantee their behavior, I'm okay with them using my room," I allowed. I couldn't provoke Scarlett and I couldn't embarrass her, so I was back to facing her rear-bound artificial cock catching up with my behind. I sat back down. Victoria quickly exited center stage and a bitter Chancellor ushered us through the last of the service.
I waited outside the Assembly Hall for my friends and my Handmaiden for the moment, Theresa Yates. Christina and Chastity caught up with me first, both giving me a curious look.
"Bro," Rio sneered as she and Mercy joined us, "we need to discuss your future abuse of power, bribes and kick-backs you are going to get. Nice banter with ol' Scarlett too."
"Yes," Christina said sarcastically, "being flippant with the Vice Chancellor backfired so spectacularly the first time, it definitely needed repeating." Her criticism really sucked because I always secretly wanted her to think well of me.
"What's your plan?" Chastity prodded me. She was always helping me out when she got the chance. As she finished, Iona, Hope, Faith, and Heaven showed up.
"They split us up," growled Heaven. "Do something, Zane."
