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Fellowship Ch. 01

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Authors Note: This story was modified into a stand-alone series from a much larger story I wrote in the past. The story may be considered by some readers to be Sacrilegious. I have zero intentions to offend any readers. This story is of course purely fictional with butch/femme pairings. All characters are over the age of 18.

For interested readers, please consider reading the Prom series to get a feel for the main characters. Enjoy!

******

I usually spend my lunch period hanging out with my best friend, Amy Darcie in the cafeteria, but today was different. Mr. Beale, my Government teacher asked me if I’d run a couple of books back down to the library for him. By the time I’d finished with completing that task, I already changed my mind about lunch. That’s okay by me though. Today they were serving chop suey over rice. While most days, the lunches are reasonably edible, chop suey day is one rarely worth getting excited over even if you’re starving and haven’t eaten for a whole week.

Besides that, Amy will be fine. She’s got her boyfriend, Brad Fowler, and Bobbie Brinkman has the same lunch period. Once Bobbie realizes I’m not down there, she’ll try and sidle up to Amy just so she can pick up anything she can to gossip about later during future leaders’ class. No, today is different. Miss Treadway has her planning period this hour, so I went straight to the girls’ PE office in the main gymnasium. I don’t really know what I was thinking. I am Miss Treadway’s student assistant for her 6th hour sophomore class next period. The period after that, I’d have her for future leaders’ in a classroom down the hall. I guess I was just getting a little antsy since I never really get the chance to see her alone much. I’ve still got a couple of weeks left until graduation though…

When I reached the girls’ PE office, I noticed the door was opened part way. I could see Miss Treadway sitting at the lone desk with her lesson planner opened and shoved off to the side. She was busy writing something on a piece of paper that she clipped to a file folder before turning around to stuff it into an open drawer in the file cabinet behind her. I guess she didn’t notice me come in. When her back was turned, I snatched up her lesson planner and started flipping through it noisily to get her attention.

“Put that down, Ciara!” Miss Treadway snapped as she spun around in her seat to face me.

For whatever reason, Miss Treadway seemed more than a little startled by my presence. I don’t know why, though. Once in a while I would drop in to the PE office if she was here to visit. Other times, Miss Treadway would be in room 208, the future leaders’ classroom. Normally her planning period was spent alone catching up on paperwork or stuck in a departmental meeting. Miss Treadway adjusted her glasses and looked past me through the doorway facing the gym. I think she wanted to be sure that Mrs. McBride or any of the other gym teachers wouldn’t walk in on us.

“That is my lesson planner! What on earth are you looking for, young lady?”

I giggled at Miss Treadway, and stopped flipping through the official looking spiral bound book. I closed it up and set it back on the desk.

“Oh…I just wanted to find out what we’re doing next week.” I said. “I mean-we’re almost done with school and everything!”

“So I guess you’re tired of softball already?” Miss Treadway said. “Aren’t you supposed to be at lunch right now?”

I flashed Miss Treadway my sweetest innocent smile before moving aside the lesson planner and a pile of loose papers so I could sit on the desktop. I hope she wasn’t just going to kick me out of there so soon.

“I know I should be at lunch.” I said very softly. I didn’t want anyone to hear me if they should happen to walk by. “Mr. Beale asked me to take some books to the library after class, and I just started thinking about you.”

Miss Treadway was drumming her fingertips on the desktop. Her expression was severe, and I could already tell that she wasn’t in the mood for games…not that I was there to play any.

“The library is on the first floor.” She said evenly.

“But you’re always so busy, Miss Treadway! It’s been a week since…”

My voice sort of trailed off the minute Miss Larsson stepped into view. Damn! I forgot that she has a planning period this hour too. I felt the color draining from my face as I slid off the desktop. Miss Larsson just stood there in the doorway of the tiny office, fixing me with a hardened stare as though she was certain she’d just walked in on something, only she didn’t know what.

Birgitta Larsson is one of the other female PE teachers at North Haskell High School. There was also Mrs. McBride and Miss Court (who is new this year), but Miss Larsson and Miss Treadway are…shall we say…something else entirely.

Besides teaching girls’ PE, Miss Larsson coaches girl’s tennis. She and Miss Treadway are both advisors for that one really nutty club that meets every Tuesday after school—Aim for Success. It’s a campus Christian club. Basically, it’s a group for Ankara escort all the Jesus freaks who gather to quote scripture in one of the resource rooms. A bunch of the kids and their parents have joked in the past about how the two lesbian gym teachers are probably using Aim for Success to pray their deviant behavior away. I don’t know about all that though.

But what I do know is that since freshman year, I’ve heard about all the stories going around about Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson. There’s been an urban legend going around for years—decades—even, that Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson had been lovers. I don’t really know how much, or if any of that is true though. But Amy’s mom told us once that it was true that they used to live together. Amy’s mom went to North Haskell, and she had Miss Treadway for gym. I always wondered about the stories, but I never had the nerve to ask Miss Treadway about it. Believe me when I say that I’m pretty sure the reaction from her wouldn’t be positive.

Looking at Miss Larsson staring at me like that suddenly made me wish I would have just caught up with Amy down in the cafeteria. But it was a little too late for that now.

“Change of plans, CJ. Everyone is meeting at 4 instead of 5 on Saturday.”

Miss Treadway nodded stiffly at her colleague.

“Fine, Birgitta. We’ll see you then.”

Once Miss Larsson left the office, Miss Treadway started positively glowering at me. It was really weird. There was this nervous little wavering to her usual deep, halting voice.

“Miss Ackerman, do be careful when you come in here! Miss Larsson has a planning period this hour, and you should not be in here anyway!”

“I’m sorry about that, Miss Treadway, really!” I said quietly. “So, are you meeting Miss Larsson at the community center or something?”

“No. She was just stopping by to say that the meeting time has been changed for our bible study group.”

“Bible study? Are you kidding me?” I giggled incredulously.

But once my eyes met Miss Treadway’s hardened stare, I remembered that she was quite serious. Who was I kidding anyway? I knew damn well that Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson belong to a women’s bible study group. For a second, I shuddered when I recalled that uncomfortable deal I’d had in the church basement the night Miss Larsson brought me to a party there. On second thought, I guess it wasn’t all that uncomfortable. In a way, Miss Larsson did me a favor by rescuing me from a disastrous date with Jason Pope at the prom even if that party she took me to in the church basement was kind of weird. I’ve never been to a party before that didn’t have any guys!

Miss Treadway was busy hastily writing something down on a piece of paper. When she was finished, she folded it up and shoved it roughly into my hands.

“Go to lunch, Miss Ackerman. I’m very busy!” She said brusquely.

I just sort of nodded silently in response as I stepped out into the small passage that separated the PE offices from the main gym. I passed by the boys’ PE office. I could see Miss Larsson standing inside the cramped room with her arms folded. It looked like Mr. Pellant and Mrs. McBride were both deep in some sort of conversation with her. I felt the little folded piece of paper in my hand, and dashed into the nearest girls’ bathroom to avoid detection by the 2nd floor hall monitors.

Once I reached the furthest stall and shut myself in, I unfolded the piece of paper Miss Treadway shoved into my hand to read what it said:

Meet me at Jubilee Park 8AM tomorrow.

I thought this was not a problem. It’s pretty great that Aunt Francie is always so nonchalant about me coming and going from the house at such strange times. She never asks difficult questions. Sometimes it makes Amy so jealous and crazy. Sometimes I can understand why she’d envy my position. Aunt Francie isn’t my mother. She isn’t even my real aunt. She’s just a lady who gets paid by the state to take care of me. She’s like a foster mom, just way less involved. I’d just leave Francie a note and tell her I’m sleeping over at Amy’s house. She never rally checks on me anyway.

For the rest of the day, I could hardly contain myself. I did my best during 6th hour not to stare too much at Miss Treadway while we were out on the field playing softball against Coach Swinson’s class. I mostly played outfield while Miss Treadway stood on the sidelines the whole time talking to Coach Swinson until it was time for us to go back inside and change out of our gym suits for 7th hour.

I was in the locker room, standing in front of a nearby mirror, fixing my hair and touching up my lip gloss when I was scared into nearly jumping out of my skin. I could see Miss Larsson’s reflection in the mirror. She was standing closely behind me with her clipboard and gym whistle in hand.

This Nordic looking woman who is as old and tomboyish as Miss Treadway is extremely striking in appearance. Her body is hard, strong, and as lean as a long distance runner. Decades of vigorous aerobic activity have given her the same athletic trim Ankara escort bayan as Miss Treadway, and it suits her beautifully. Like Miss Treadway, she has this hardened rugged face, aged from years of spending time outdoors and yelling at students to run laps. Her light, nearly white blond hair was cropped in a boyish bob that barely covers the bottoms of her ears.

I should mention that although Miss Larsson startled me by standing there so close in the locker room, I wasn’t too concerned. In fact, I was pretty indifferent, but that wasn’t always the case. A few months ago, Miss Treadway told me that Miss Larsson knew about our relationship. This, of course, threw me into a tailspin. Would she tell on us? How much did she know? I was terrified that our secret might get out! But Miss Treadway assured me that Miss Larsson would keep our secret, and she has…so far.

“Uh, hi, Miss Larsson.” I said. “What’s up?”

“You know that you are supposed to be in the cafeteria or the commons during lunch unless you are doing a make-up for Miss Treadway’s class.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Larsson. I just had something that I needed to ask her. It won’t happen again.” My voice cracked a little when I said this.

For some reason, Miss Larsson was looking at me so strangely. She looked sort of like a star-struck teenager who realized she was in the same room with a boy she was crushing on. It definitely was not the sort of facial expression you’d expect a woman in her mid-40s to have. It created a strange sort of tension in the air that sent a shockwave of heat down my spine. This was followed by an equally strange warm buttery sort of feeling between my legs. For a second or two, my legs felt like jelly, and I had to put my hand against the wall to steady myself.

“I…I gotta go, Miss Larsson.” I said. “See you later, I guess.”

“See you around campus.” Miss Larsson said softly.

When I grabbed my book bag and scrambled past her towards the exit, I thought I heard her say something else, but I couldn’t quite make it out. If I didn’t know better, it sounded like ‘tomorrow’, but I was too busy trying to make it through the crush of students in the hall to my last class to worry about it.

******

On Saturday the next morning, I was sitting on a bench near the bike path in Jubilee Park. Around the crack of dawn, I woke from a sound and comfortable sleep. I slipped quietly from Aunt Francie’s house equipped with an overnight bag, and I made the long walk to the park that was so close to North Haskell.

I would have asked Amy to drive me since I know I wouldn’t have access to Francie’s car for the length of time I wanted it, but I preferred to walk anyway. It gave me time to think and enjoy the beautiful spring weather.

I sat on a bench facing the park shelter and the dense expanse of trees that shielded a winding creek, and I shivered a little from the cold. I drew in a deep breath, and savored the clean, sweet smell of the rain that fell the night before. I shifted a little to the right to catch the dappled gold sunlight that bathed the tops of my thighs in fleeting intense warmth.

I guessed it was still very early in the morning. For all intents and purposes, the park was empty and utterly quiet except for the soft occasional rustle of leaves, and the chirping of birds as they went about their morning rituals. Once I crossed the busy street and I could no longer see North Haskell behind the steep hill leading down to Jubilee Park, time stood perfectly still. I was immersed in another world now, and it was beautiful.

My heart fluttered anxiously while I looked all around me. I started to get up from the bench, but I thought better of it. I was just sorry that I neglected to pack a jacket in my bag to stave off this morning chill.

Several more minutes passed, and I decided I couldn’t sit still any longer. The sun was shining very brightly now; I needed a drink. I walked briskly over to the park shelter and found the nearest fountain. I gulped the icy water in spite of the chill I was feeling, and then I finally spotted Miss Treadway in the distance walking towards me across the open field near the swing set.

My heart almost jumped into my throat when my teacher got a little closer to where I was. I wanted to bolt across the clearing towards her, but I stopped myself and chose instead to wave madly at her until she saw me.

“I’m over here, Carol Jean—come on!”

My still embarrassingly childlike voice sliced through the morning air, and I could tell I startled Miss Treadway. She looked around furtively in hopes no one else was in the park, but it was perfectly safe; we were the only two people there. Once she was close enough to me, she sternly put a finger to her lips and made a loud shushing sound.

“I know we’re at the park, but graduation isn’t here just yet so use your indoor voice!” She said.

We walked together over to the picnic tables underneath the shelter and chose to sit at the closest one. Miss Treadway drew in a noticeably sharp breath and adjusted her glasses Escort Ankara as she looked once more at the park’s empty expanse. Her windbreaker rustled quietly as she shifted and turned to face me.

“It’s a beautiful morning isn’t it, sweetheart?” She asked softly.

“I…left Aunt Francie a note in case you were wondering.” I said. “She thinks I’m staying at Amy’s house this weekend.”

Miss Treadway slowly rose from her seat after checking her watch. She took my bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Shall we get going then?”

I had no idea that I was in for one of the strangest—and most memorable—weekends of my entire life!

******

We spent some of the day at the Emmerson Community Center. We occupied a small auxiliary gym that Miss Treadway reserved so we could play some rounds of badminton and talk without interruption. Not long after we started playing, Miss Larsson showed up, and Miss Treadway insisted that she join us. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but once or twice I swear Miss Larsson brushed up against me on purpose. One time, I missed the shuttlecock, and it landed on the floor in front of my feet. When I bent down to pick it up, Miss Larsson was there standing very close to me. I noticed Miss Treadway didn’t seem to mind that her colleague was doing this. In fact, she looked pleased, and it made me very nervous.

Things got even weirder when we left the community center. Miss Treadway insisted on dragging me with her and Miss Larsson to her bible study group.

“Oh, come on! Bible study?” I gasped. “Aim for Success is bad enough! Do I have to?”

I’ve never been to a bible study group before. The last time I set foot inside of a church was prom night when Miss Larsson and Miss Blount brought me to that nutty party of theirs.

“You know, I think that it’s high time you learned a few things they don’t teach you in school, young lady!” Miss Treadway said.

That statement should have been some sort of clue, or warning about the things to come later on that night, but I was too busy trying to tune the notion of having to attend bible study out of my mind. I know that Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson are both Christians. It’s common knowledge around the school in spite of all the rumors floating around about them. As much as I love Miss Treadway, I hate religion! I can’t stand it, and I wish it would just hurry up and die out. But today, my mind was changed in spite of my feelings.

I was brought to the basement of that same prim white church where that party took place on the night of the prom. Before we got there, Miss Treadway explained that the group was in some ways similar to the Aim for Success group at school. She added that there were some ways that the group was very different, and that a lot of people wouldn’t understand it. She said that I should relax, and there was nothing to be nervous about. In fact, she said that the group was pretty anxious to meet me. But when we finally reached the doors to the church basement, Miss Treadway told me that under no circumstances was I to ever mention the bible study group outside of the church.

When we entered the basement, one thing that stuck out to me right away was the fact that this group consisted almost entirely of older women like Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson. In fact, when my eyes scanned the group gathered around the long table, I only saw three younger women.

I was frozen in terror, and I could barely get a polite word out of my mouth as Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson started introducing me to the other women. I thought I recognized a few of them from the party, but I wasn’t sure. I noticed that bitchy old Miss Horst was a member of the group. She had her arm around this woman who looked like she was barely older than me. I wondered if she went to one of the high schools around here, or if she was a student at Blake College. Miss Larsson and said that almost all of the women in the group are teachers. A few of them had identical prayer books, and they were sharing affirmations when we arrived. It was so weird! It looked like a club, or a secret society of some kind…it sure didn’t look like Aim for Success or any other bible study I’ve seen before!

After the initial introductions were made, one of the women insisted that I move around the table and hug each one of them in greeting. I didn’t want to do it. I don’t even know any of them except for Miss Larsson and Miss Horst, but Miss Treadway swatted me hard on the ass and told me that I’d be running laps during PE all hour on Monday if I didn’t “hop to it.” For some reason, Miss Larsson hugged me a lot longer than any of the others while Miss Treadway hovered nearby like an overprotective mother bear looking out for her cub.

God, I was so embarrassed, I could have died! Once I reluctantly completed my rounds, Miss Treadway announced to the group that I will be studying to be a teacher in the fall at Blake College. But the next thing she said nearly made me want to jump out of my skin. I didn’t fully understand what she meant at first, but I figured it had to be something really embarrassing if anyone at school were to find out. With a smug sort of smile spreading across her thin lips, Miss Treadway told the ladies at the table that I’d finally joined the ranks of Sappho.

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