A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 81
CHAPTER 181 .......... The Mission Comes Together

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CHAPTER  181

Peter Shinee practically fell over himself.  “Derrek, I would die for your family.”

“Whoa, Pete, let’s not go overboard.  I actually need you alive to work on a secret project.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“Well, first take some pictures of me for the election … for class president.  You can email them to me later today.”

“I use my cell phone for that, Derrek.  It has the highest rated lenses.”

“Cool … Thanks … Now do you know who Kitti Power is?”

“Everyone knows her, Derrek.  She’s the queen bee … or more accurately, the queen bitch.”

“So you don’t like her, Pete?”

“Derrek, no one likes getting bullied.  She teases me and calls me ‘dweeb, dork, dingus, dingleberry, dimwit … and those are just the ‘D’ words.  Your mom helped me to gain stronger confidence, and I can deal with it better now … even though the teasing hasn’t stopped.”

“Have you thought about revenge, Pete?”

“My parents have told me that hating Kitti or thinking about revenge would only lower myself to her standards.”

“Pete, what if I offered you a way to lower yourself to Kitti’s standards without getting caught?”

“I’d love it.  Why?  Do you have an idea?”

“First, do you have any trustworthy female classmates who hate Kitti as much as you do?”

“Derrek, the easy answer is ‘ALL of them’ … especially the ones who had to have a sports physical where Kitti was assisting Nurse TiteRench, who’s gone now.  Kitti was an expert at ‘fat-shaming’, putting down the girls who were a few pounds overweight.  They all had to strip naked and allow Kitti to do some awful stuff to them.”

(I didn’t want to go into the details about Kitti doing the same to me.  That wasn’t the purpose of this visit.)

“Well, Pete, do you think some of those girls who Kitti ordered to strip naked would like to turn the tables on their tormentor?”

“Big time, Derrek.  I’ll do anything to help.”

I took out an object from my pocket.  “Pete, last Friday, Kitti Power stole our football uniforms.”

“Yes, I heard about that.”

“Well, before she left our locker room, she set up this hidden camera by the boys’ shower room.  Let’s not get into details.  But I found her spycam and reprogrammed it so the video feed goes directly to my burner phone.”

“Bebeline Laboy.”

“Huh?”

“She’d be perfect, Derrek.  Bebeline Laboy is a heavy-set picked-on girl who hates Kitti with great passion.  She’s sort of a ‘techie’ with computer stuff too and she also takes regular gym class and could plant the spycam by the girls’ shower.”

I shook my head.  “No, we can’t do that, Pete.  We only want the spycam aimed at Kitti’s cheerleader locker.  Don’t put other girls on camera … So do you think Bebeline would be willing to work with us in secret?”

“For this purpose, definitely, Derrek.”

“Okay, Pete, text me when the camera’s is in place, and I’ll text you back when we get what we need.  Then you’ll have to ask Bebeline to retrieve the camera and give it back to you and then to me … But see if she can do it today or tomorrow, before Kitti can figure out why her video feed went dead.”

“Got it.”

“I appreciate your help, Pete.”

“Thumbs are up, Derrek.  Let’s do it.”

That was all I could do for now.  In ten minutes, I was back at the middle school and I headed down for football practice.  I told no one else about my scheme … not teammates, not friends, not even Sammantha.  If anyone should get in trouble over this, it should only be me … the mature, responsible kid running for class president.

Monday night, Sammantha wished me good luck with my speech tomorrow.  “Do you know what you’re going to say, sweety?”

(I told her nothing about my plot to ‘dress down’ Kitti Power.)  “Mom, I somehow want to convey a message that I’m not going to be a ‘hall monitor’.  I’m not going to become a tool of the administration.”

“Sounds like you’ll be walking a fine line.”

“I know … and I didn’t want this job in the first place.   Apparently, nobody else does either.   I became too popular, and now X says I have no choice.  I’m being drafted.  At least I’ll have Madeline and Hoshiko with me.”

“Well, don’t blow it off, sweety.  At least pretend that you want the job and don’t be afraid to ask for their votes.”

“Showkat said at lunch that I’m going to rule the school.”

“I don’t believe that’s the job of a class president, but I think you’ll find a way to make the job fit you.  Did you pick out some nice clothes for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m wearing my khakis with a white polo shirt.  Mom, sometimes I feel so goofy.  I’m 28 years old and now I’m going to be the leader of the seventh grade.  It’s been so weird at school since I became ‘popular’.  I’m not used to this.  So many twelve-year-old girls now want to stop and smile at me in the hallways and say hello and make small talk … but now it’s advanced into touching.”

“What do you mean, sweety?”

“Well, they’re not afraid to jump in front of me to block me from moving forward to my next class.  And they act so innocent when they lightly grab my upper arm or my wrist, or put their hand on top of my shoulder.  Some of them ‘pet’ my hair … always maintaining a sweet smile.  I feel so creepy getting hit on by twelve-year-old girls.”

“Does it feel good to you?”

“Too good.  When Latanya Leapheart ran her fingers down my arm, it gave me a chill and a very hard boner and I had to try to hide it.  She’s as cute as Madeline, but she doesn’t realize what she does to me.  I keep imagining feeling her up, under her jeans and T-shirt.  I stare at her crotch, too.  She must have the cutest little pussy in the world, with whispy blond hairs.  I’d just love to reach in and gently massage it  … but she’s twelve.”

“Any boobs?”

“Nah, she’s like Madeline.”

“What about Starline?”

“Mom, Starline’s a skank.  Latanya is sweet … and way too innocent.  I don’t think she’s after my boner.  But I will admit that Starline did something nice for me today.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmmmm … I’ll tell you later.”

“Aren’t you glad you have a 30 year old running mate?”

“To share the misery?”

“Ah, don’t talk like that, sweety.  I’ll bet the three of you will have a lot of fun.”

“We’ll find out soon, Mom.”

Tuesday morning in homeroom, I tried to calm the nerves of my two colleagues.

“Derrek,” said Madeline.  “I’m experienced in public speaking, but I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Darakatoms, what is expected for a candidate to speak?”

I explained, “Just talk about how much fun you’re having at school and that you look forward to working together.”

“I saw the poster you put up, Derrek,” said Madeline.  “Isn’t it a bit plain?  And you used our last names instead of first.  No one knows ‘Dazilme’ and ‘Aoki’.”

“Maddie, have you seen our competition?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go.”

Hoshiko look puzzled.  “You say ‘Maddie’?  Where did that come from?”

“Just a nickname … a term of endearment.”

“I understand, Darakatoms … Just don’t call me ‘Ho’.”

“I won’t, Hoshi.”  (Since the girl did not immediately object to ‘Hoshi’, I figured that would be acceptable.)

By 10 am, the auditorium was filled with our fellow seventh graders.  Principal Glass stood on the stage while our little trio walked to three seats near her and sat down.

The principal took her place behind the rostrum and spoke into the mic.  “Good morning boys and girls.  Today is the candidates’ debate for those students seeking to become class officers.  Voting is tomorrow.  But for now, please give your undivided attention and respect to these three classmates running for the offices in the seventh grade.”

There followed polite applause.

“The first to speak will be Madeline Dazilme, who is running for the office of vice president … Madeline?”

I whispered to her, “Good luck.”

My running mate stepped up onto the small foot platform used to elevate middle school students behind the rostrum.  Looking nervous, she lowered the mic.

“Uh, hi, I’m Madeline and I’m running for vice president.  I’m not exactly sure what a vice president is supposed to do but I’ll try to support the president and help my classmates in any way I can.  Thank you.”

There was another polite applause as Principal Glass took the mic again.  “Our next candidate is Hoshiko Aoki.”

“Hello everyone.  My name is Hoshiko Aoki and I’m running for Secretary of the Treasury, which I guess is someone who counts the class money.  As most of you know, I am an exchange student from Japan and I am still trying to learn the ways of American culture.  The first month of school has been very exciting and I look forward to helping our president and our classmates during the remainder of the school year.  Thank you.”

Dr. Glass then said, “Thank you, Hoshiko.  Our third candidate is running for president of the seventh grade class.  Please welcome Derrek Adams.”

I did not expect what I got—a thunderous ovation.  This was nuts.  Girls were screaming as if I was Freddy Mercury.  My football teammates exploded, swinging their fists in circles with chants of, “Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!” 

I stepped up onto the foot platform behind the rostrum and smiled … and waved to the assembly.  Captain X’s words echoed in my head … ‘Be confident, be a leader’.

Shouts of ‘Derrek! … Derrek!’ bounced off the auditorium walls.  I realized that middle school elections were not much more than popularity contests, but this was so unlike the dorky self that I was in my past life as a middle schooler.

I put up my hands and waited for the raucous crowd to die down.  Then I adjusted the mic to my mouth level.

“Wow!  Thanks for the warm welcome, everyone,” I began.  “I haven’t heard an applause that loud since Professor Clinkenbeard showed us his six foot long penis.”

My opening quip re-sparked the raucous crowd with an applause at level three, the loudest.

“I feel absolutely great today.  Randy didn’t poison me, Sally didn’t kidnap me, and I got to dress up for school today in something besides my panties and training bra.”

My audience members were rolling in the aisles, literally.

At that moment, my burner phone began to vibrate in my back right pocket.  It was a text message.  Immediately, I felt high anxiety and an uncontrollable urge to see who it was from.  Since Dr. Glass was sitting off to my left, I turned my body and slipped the phone out of my pocket and onto the slanted part of the raised rostrum, out of view.

My audience was still laughing when the caller ID flashed the words ‘Spy Varmint’.