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From: Ann Douglas <annd@pop.tiac.net>
Subject: AnnD: True To Life - (1/2) - MF
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Hello once again.  As in the past, comments are both
appreciated  and encouraged.  Suggestions are also 
welcome. Please respond by E-Mail as it makes it
easier for me to get your reaction.   One  thing I do
ask is that you now include your first name and age
in  your comments.  It gives me a better idea who
my audience is.  Thanks and enjoy the story.

	- TRUE TO LIFE-
	       Part One
                    by  Ann Douglas

	Friday afternoon couldn't have come too
soon for the students of Peterson High School.  It
was the first week of June and they had less than
two weeks to go until graduation.  For Michael
Rossi and Bobby Williams, it meant that in ten short
days they would finish their years at Peterson and
move onto bigger and better things.  In Bobby's case
it was a football scholarship at State, and for Mike
Rossi a chance to study Industrial Arts at Brookfield
U.
	"I thought that English Lit class would never
end."  Bobby said as they headed for the bus stop on
the corner.  "I just can't seem to understand Hamlet,
they speak so funny. You never know what they're
talking about."
	"Well you better figure it out real quick." 
Mike said to his longtime pal.  "Cause Old Man
Winters is a bug on Shakespeare, and Hamlet is
supposed to be his favorite.  You know he's going to
put it on the final."
	"Shit,"  Bobby groaned. "I'm screwed then.  I
even got those Monarch Notes, but they still didn't
help."
	"Tell you what,"  Mike said as he suddenly
stopped.  "How bout you take my story notes home
over the weekend.  Read then tomorrow and I'll
come over Sunday and go over with them with you."
	"That'd be great."  Bob said, the relief in his
voice evident.  "What am I ever going to do without
you when I get to State."
	"Properly fail,"  Mike joked. "But by then
you'll be someone else's problem."
	The larger boy joined in the laughter and
slapped Mike on the back. They had been friends
since the ninth grade.  Even back then, Bobby had
been a jock.  Mike on the other hand had been a
skinny, pale little kid who more than earned the title
nerd.  He was the kind of kid that always seem to
get beat up by the bigger guys.  That was until the
day Bobby Williams had come across a Junior about
to deposit Mikey in a waste bin after he had spilled
milk on his jacket.  
	Bobby didn't know Mike from Adam, but
he'd had a little brother who used to get picked on
by the bigger kids.  In fact, since Bobby was left
back in the fifth grade, he was eighteen months older
than the rest of his class.  That made his little
brother Steve only six months younger than Mike.
	From that point on, the two had formed an
unlikely friendship.  Mike had spent many a night
tutoring Bobby in one subject or other.  Bob in turn
had helped his younger friend branch out in other
areas that he normally wouldn't have approached.
True, he wasn't about to try out for the football
team, but he had long ago shed his nerd image.  At
least in appearance.  
	Rummaging through his knapsack, Mike
finally came up with a small red binder and handed it
to Bobby.
	"Try not to drool on it when you eat."  He
said as his friend dropped the binder in his own carry
case.  "I realize that I'm asking a lot, but I do try to
take care of my study notes."
	"Funny, Rossi, real funny."  Came Bobby's
reply.  "There are times I wonder why I kept them
from putting you out with the trash."
	Mike didn't seem to hear the comeback. His
attention seemed to be concentrated on his knapsack
as he sorted through it's contents  looking for
something.  A worried look flashed across his face
as he began to shift through the books and binders a
second time.  
	"Lose something?  Bobby inquired.
	"My sketchbook,"  Mike replied as he looked
a third time.  "It's not here!" 
	"You sure?" 
	"Of course I'm sure,"  He answered, a tense
anxiousness in his voice. "I've looked three times!"
	Michael's great love was drawing, and his
sketchbook was his pride.  Not that he ever showed
it to anyone.  Sure once and a while he would
produce a portrait for someone after he had ripped it
from the book, but no one ever saw the book itself.
	"Hey don't worry about it, it's just a book. I'll
bet it's sitting in your locker or under your desk in
one class or another."  Bobby said as he glanced at
his watch and saw that the bus would be there in a
few minutes. "Don't worry about it, you'll get it
Monday."
	The hard angry look he suddenly got from
his friend told him he had said exactly the wrong
thing.  It was as if after causing a  loosing fumble,
Mike had told him football was only a game.
	"Ok, I'm a thick headed jock and don't know
anything about art."  Bobby apologized. "I know
you're going to go back and look for it, do you want
me to go back with you?"
	"Nah, I don't want you to be late for your job
at McDonalds."  Mike said, accepting the apology.
"You might need those job skills some day."
	"It's a good thing you're such a hot shot
artist, cause as a comedian you'd make a great
waiter."  
	"There's the bus, get going!"  Mike said as he
pointed out the gray bus rounding the corner.
	"Ok, ok."  Mike said as he grabbed his bag
and started to head for the stop.
	 "One of these days, I really want to see
what's in that book."  He said after he had gone a
few stops.  "My moneys on a dozen or so nudes of
Jenny Greene!"  Bobby added, making reference to
the girl who was without question, the hottest babe
in school.
	From the sudden blank look he saw on his
friend's face before he turned to run the last twenty
feet, Bobby got the impression he hadn't been far
off.


	After checking his locker and coming up
empty, Mike began to reverse his steps for his last
few periods.  The book had been in his bag during
his lunch. He'd done a quick sketch of Timmy Butler
playing his sax in the lunchroom.  Mike clearly
remembered putting it away after that. Having no
luck in the rooms used for English Literature and
Health Science, the brown haired youth headed for
the second floor and American History.
	Since entering the school, Mike had only
passed one other person in the halls.  The dismissal
bell on a Friday afternoon was like the starting gun
at the races.  Even the Teachers were usually gone
by 3:10.  With luck, he would find the book fast and
make the 3:35 bus.
	Quickly moving to his desk in the back of the
classroom, Mike lifted the desktop, only to find it
held only a few papers and a spare pencil. He was
sure, it had to have been here. The only other
possibility was Music Appreciation, but they'd
listened to a concert tape today and he hadn't even
opened his bag in that class.  Could someone have
taken the book out of his bag somewhere else.


	"Did you lose something?"  Asked a voice
from the front of the room.
	Mike whirled around to find himself faced by
Mrs. Koda, his history teacher.  Normally, Mike
loved sitting in the back of the room and watching
Mrs. Koda teach.  It wasn't that he had such an
interest in history, it was that he loved watching her
walk around the room.  
	Arlene Koda was as far from the stereotype
school teacher image as you could get. Standing
5'6", she had long curly red hair that reached down
to below her shoulders.  Bright emerald green eyes
lit up her face and  she had a body that not even
Jenny Greene could match.  As on most days, she
was dressed rather conservatively, a plain white
blouse and blue skirt. Yet even these plain clothes
couldn't hid the woman beneath. 
	Only in her early thirties, Mike had heard
someone once say that she had come in second
runner up in some statewide beauty contest back
when she was in college.  If she had come in third,
Mike couldn't imagine what number one and two
could've looked like. 	          
	"Is something wrong Mr. Rossi?"  He heard
her ask.
	Mike suddenly realized that he'd been
standing there for over ten seconds without saying a
word.  
	"Er....no,"  He stuttered.  "I...er....forgot my
sketch book somewhere and ....thought I might have
left ...it in class."
	"Oh, then this must be yours."  Arlene said
as she pulled open one of her desk draws and pulled
out a thick black bound book.  "I found it on the
floor in the back of the room when I was cleaning up
earlier."
	Michael went pale as she lifted the book up
and flipped it open to a page near the front.  A cold
sweat suddenly ran down his back as she turned a
few pages.
	"I only took a quick look before to see if
there was a name in it."  Arlene said as she turned
another page.  "I didn't see one, so I just put it away.
By Monday, I figured, someone would've come
looking for it."
	Michael's heart was racing as he slowly
walked to the front of the room.  Each time she
turned another page, his heart felt like it skipped a
beat.  
	"Oh God,"  The 17yr old pleaded in a silent
prayer. "Please let her stop."
	"This is really excellent work. I have to say
I'm impressed."  Arlene continued as she admired
one particular drawing. "I can see why you'd be
worried that you lost this book."
	"Yeh,"  Mike replied, trying so very hard to
be cool as he reached out for the book.
	"In fact, I'm surprised you haven't submitted
any of this work to the Peterson Quarterly or the
Yearbook. I'm the faculty advisor for both you
know."  She went on as she flipped a dozen or so
more pages, scanning the last half of his work. "In
fact I.........."
	Her voice suddenly fell silent as she flipped
back to a page she had just flew past.  From the look
on her face, Mike knew he was busted.  He suddenly
felt dizzy and was afraid he was about to faint.
	"Oh my........"  He dimly heard Mrs. Koda
say as she turned a few more pages.  
	She paused for a second, a look of disbelief
on her face.  Then she turned another page.
	"Oh my Lord!"  She exclaimed, this time
much louder.
	With that, Michael did faint.


	Michael's first sensation of consciousness
was the smell of flowers.  Even before he opened his
eyes, the sweet scent filled his nostrils.  When his
eyes did open, they quickly focused on the soft full
breasts pressing against the white blouse of the
woman leaning over him. He was laying on a couch
in a large room he recognized as the Teacher's
Lounge.  
	"I'm glad to see you're back with us, Mr.
Rossi."  Mrs. Koda said when she noticed his open
eyes. "I was beginning to wonder if I was wrong in
not calling the paramedics."
	"No,...I'm ok....."  Mike mumbled as he
shook his head to clear it.  
	As he sat up he saw the thick black book
sitting on the coffee table.  In a cold numbing clarity,
he remembered what had happened. Hesitantly, he
sat up and tried to think of something to say.
	
	"I'm really sorry about all this....."  He said.
	"I should think so,"  Mrs. Koda replied. "I
really can't even express how shocked I am by the
drawings in that book.  Or how surprised  I am that
a young man of your scholastic ability could have
created them." 
	With that she flipped open the book and
turned to the offending pages. Spread out across ten
sheets were a dozen or more  sketches of a man and
woman engaged in various sexual acts.  Some of the
figures were generic, but more often than not, the
male figure was Michael himself. 
	Arlene turned past the assorted drawings,
stopping at a closeup of a woman performing
fellatio. She could've been mistaken about the other
depictions, but there was no doubt that the likeness
in the closeup was her own.  
	"These drawings are enough to get you
expelled, you know that, don't you?"  She asked
Michael.
	Michael merely nodded, too stunned at the
idea to say anything.
	"And that,  I think would be a real shame. 
I'd hate to be the cause of your loosing your
scholarship."
	Michael's eyes followed the Teacher across
the room, for once his attention riveted on her
words instead of the sway of her ass. She still had
the book in her hands, glancing down at his
creations as she spoke.
	"But I do have a responsibility as a Teacher
in this school to maintain discipline and order. I just
can't let an incident like this go unacknowledged."
	A dozen possible repercussions of his
stupidity flashed through Michael's mind. His
parent's reaction if he were expelled, the loss of his
chance to go to Brookfield. In half of them, he saw
himself needed those job skills he jokingly suggested
Bob might need. 
	"It would be different if these were just
simple nudes."  Arlene continued. "I could just
dismiss them as art with a poor choice of subject.
Yet as hard as I try, I can't classify drawings like
these as anything but pornographic."
	"I don't have to worry about getting a job at
the McDonald's"  Michael thought as he saw his
future flush down a toilet. "My father is simply
going to kill me and be done with it. How is he
going to explain to his friends and business
associates that his son got kicked out of school for
drawing porno pictures of one of his Teachers."
	"Still, a decision that will have such a strong
effect on your future shouldn't be made in haste." 
Michael heard Mrs. Koda say, snapping his attention
back to her.  "And since if anyone is the offended
party in this matter, it's myself, or am I wrong in
concluding that I'm the subject of these images?"
	Michael shook his head no.	
	"Well then, as the offended party it's up to
me to decide what action should be taken," She
concluded. "I've decided to sleep on it over the
weekend and come to a decision by Monday."
	With a loud bang, she slammed the book
shut. 
	"You may go."  She said. "I'll see you
Monday morning."
	Michael was on his feet in a flash and headed
for the door, his hands still shaking.  He was about
to disappear down the hall when Mrs. Koda called
after him with a final question.
	"Can I assume that no one else has seen the
contents of this book?  She asked.
	"No, Ma'am. I mean, Yes, Ma'am. No one
ever sees that book but me."  He answered quickly.
	"Good, very good!"  Arlene said, a smile on
her face.
	With that, Michael turned and ran down the
stairs and out of the building as fast as he could.   



	Michael slept very little Friday night and was
listless all day Saturday.  He felt like a condemned
convict, waiting for the ax to fall. Better if Mrs.
Koda had simply decided yesterday, at least he
wouldn't have to suffer through this terrible waiting. 
Then he reminded himself that as long as she hadn't
rendered her decision, there was still a chance he
could find a way out of this mess. It had barely been
twenty-four hours and he was already a nervous
wreck. What would he be like by Monday morning?
	All afternoon he ran errands, trying to keep
his mind off the impending decision. His Mother had
commented on his sudden moodiness, but his father
had told her not to worry about it. The boy probably
has a girl on his mind. Little did his father know how
true that was.
	Getting home about 6:30, Michael sat down
to a late supper with his family.  He wasn't really
hungry, but skipping it would cause too many
questions.  He wasn't really paying any attention to
the table talk until his Mother remarked that one of
his teachers had called today.
	"One of my teachers called?"  Michael asked
as his eyes lit up. "Which one?"
	"Well I didn't take the call, Cindy did."  His
Mother replied.	
	"Who called?"  He asked his little sister.
	"Mrs. Kodak or something like that"  She
replied, still stuffing her face with stuffing.
	"Koda?"  Mike asked.
	"Yeh, that was it." The twelve year old said.
"She said something about some book she found in
school that belonged to you."
	"What exactly did she say/"  Michael
questioned his sister, his face turning cold and pale. 
	"Just that she found some book of yours and
that if you wanted to pick it up you could stop over
her house and get it."
	"Anything else?"
	"Just that her husband and her were going
out at 07:30 and it would have to be before then."
	"07:30!"  Michael exclaimed as he looked up
at the kitchen clock, it was already 5 after.  "Why
didn't you tell me before?"
	"So I forgot,"  Cindy replied. "Big deal,
you'll get it tomorrow.  I left the address over on the
bulletin board."
	Michael jumped up from the table and
quickly found the note pinned to the corkboard. It
was an address in the Pinedale section. That was at
least a twenty minute drive.
	"Dad, can I borrow the car?"  He asked his
father as he reached for the spare keys in the hook
below the board.  "I might still be able to catch
them."
	"I can't see whats all so important that you
need to rush over there?"  His father said as he too
noted the time.
	"Its my sketch book..."  Michael began to
say.
	"No wonder you've been so depressed."  His
Mother interrupted.  "John...."  She said as she
turned to her husband.
	"All right, " John Rossi gave in. "But I don't
want you speeding over there. I know that book is
important to you but it's not worth getting into an
accident for."
	"Thanks Dad!"  Michael exclaimed as he
bolted out the kitchen door.   


	Michael's heart dropped a little more as he
watched the dashboard clock click off each new
minute.  He'd been stuck in this traffic jam on Main
St for nearly a half hour and the bright green digits
now read 08:05.  By now, Mr. and Mrs. Koda were
long gone, and with them any chance of his
retrieving his sketch book and his future. By
tomorrow she might've had a change of heart.
Maybe she would mention it to her husband and he
would be so outraged that he would demand she
take some punitive action against the offender. 
Either way it meant another sleepless night.  
	By 08:15 he had cleared the traffic and was
now only 5 minutes from the Koda house.  He
decided to still head there and at least leave an
apologetic note. Maybe that would help. Stopping to
use a pay phone, he told his Mom that he had been
delayed by the traffic and that he was going to take
the car over to Bob's house if that was ok with Dad. 
6  minutes later he was pulling up in front of the
Koda house.


	The house was big, twice the size of the one
Michael had grown up in.  A carefully kept lawn and
an endless row of flowers showed the work of
professional landscapers.  Thinking of all the hot
Saturday afternoons he had spent with a mower,
Michael felt a tinge of envy of someone who could
afford to pay to have that done for them. A car was
parked in front of a two car garage, a new 95 Lexus.
	Michael wondered how a teacher could
afford a house like this, then he remembered
someone once saying that she was married to some
kind of surgeon.
	"Great, nice to know her husband has easy
access to sharp knives."  Michael said as he walked
up the pathway.


	Michael had reached the large front door
when he suddenly realized that he didn't have
anything to write a note on . Searching his pockets,
he could only come up with a dry cleaning receipt. A
message scribbled on the back of that wouldn't
exactly leave the type of impression  he wanted.
	From the street, he had noticed a few lights
on throughout the house.  It could just be part of an
alarm system, but if he was really lucky, maybe they
had a maid or someone at home he could let know
he had stopped by. 
	Brushing back his hair and straightening his
clothes, Michael rang the bell. A few minutes passed
and there was no response. He tried it again and was
about to give it up and head home when he heard
footsteps approaching the door.
	The door swung open and Michael was
rendered speechless. The woman standing there bore
only a superficial resemblance to the teacher he
knew. The long red hair that was normally pinned
back and hidden had been styled into a intricate
design.  Normally she wore a very subdued pink
lipstick, now it was bright red.  As red as her lips
was the cocktail dress she wore, the plunging
neckline of which gave him a delightful view of the
breasts he had so fantasized about.  In fact, so taken
was he by just the sight of those soft, white globes,
he didn't immediately notice the imprint of her
nipples against the thin material of the dress.  It was
obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.	
	"Mrs. Koda?"  Michael finally stammered
out.
	"Michael,"  She answered somewhat
embarished.  "I didn't really expect you this late."
	"I'm sorry,"  He said. "I didn't the message
until very late, then I got stuck in traffic.  I was just
going to leave a note then I realized that I didn't
have anything to write on."
	"Very well, as long as you are here, you
might as well come in."  She said in a voice that said
this hadn't been her first disappointment of the
evening.
	"You have a beautiful house."  He said as he
walked from the foyer into a large living room. 
Everything about the house said money.
	"Thank you, but I had nothing to do it."  She
replied as she walked over to a desk on the far side
of the room. "My husband had it decorated by
professionals, and its cleaned by a maid.  Its just
another trophy to his success."
	Immediately, Michael knew he had hit on a
sore point right out of the box.  Not a good thing to
do with someone who help your fate in her hands.
	A large 11 x 14 photo on the wall caught
Michael's attention.  It was of the finalists in a
beauty pageant  The stories had been true.  The third
runner up was obviously a younger Arlene Koda. 
To Michael, she had it all over the winner and
runner-up. What could have those judges been
thinking?
	"That's another one of my husband's trophy." 
Arlene said from behind him.  "Miss Mayfield
County - 1983."
	Michael did understand at first, then he
realized that she was referring to herself as the
trophy, not the photograph.  
	"You were beautiful."  Michael observed,
then added a few seconds later. "I mean not that I
don't think you're still beautiful now...I mean..."
	"That's ok,"  She said as she turned and
headed to a large chair and sat down.  "I'll take it as
the compliment it was intended to be."
	Michael flushed, it seemed everytime he
opened his mouth he put his foot into it.
	I was having a drink,"  She said as she filled
up a glass that was resting in the end table next to
the chair. "Would you like one?"
	"Err sure...."  Michael said as he walked over
and took a seat on the couch on the other side of the
end table.
	"I guess you're a little surprised at seeing me
like this."  She said as she handle him a glass of
wine.  "My life at school is very different from the
life I live at home. Its almost like I become a
different person when I walk through those school
doors."	
	Sitting this close to her, Michael quickly
realized that the drink she had just poured was far
from her first this evening.  
	"At home I'm just supposed to be the
beautiful wife of Doctor Alan Fitzgerald, one more
monument to his achievements.  I really don't have
to do anything but supervise the maid and other
servants and look good for guests." 
	"I thought your name was Koda, " Michael
interrupted. "but you said  your husband's name is
Fitzgerald."
	"Koda was my maiden name, I decided to
keep it as far as my teaching credentials went." She
answered.  "I was a teacher before I was a wife, it
was something  I wasn't going to let just slip away. 
He wasn't too happy about that, let me tell you."
	This was getting all too deep for Michael.
Why did she suddenly feel the need to unload her
problems on him.  Don't all these rich people  have
psychiatrists to help them with their problems.  He
wished she would just give him back his book and he
could get out of here.
	"But that's all going to change now, I won't
be teaching after the end of this year."  She said.
	Suddenly she again had Michael's attention. 
	"A few of Alan's colleagues suggested to him
the other day that it was inappropriate for the wife
of the new head of surgery at Saint Mathews to be
wasting her time teaching. There were far too many
important social activities that went with his new
position that she should be attending to. So just like
that, my teaching career is history."
	"Couldn't you have worked out some sort of
compromise?"  Michael asked, surprised that he was
actually interested.
	"You don't compromise with Dr. Alan
Fitzgerald III."  Arlene answered sarcastically.  "He
commands and like the word from on high the little
people scurry to obey."
	"Position is everything to him," She
continued.  "I once asked him for a divorce since it
was obvious that he never really loved me.  He only
said that it wouldn't look good and it was out of the
question."	
	Michael listened and watched in amazement
as she finished her drink and poured another.  She
was obvious now feeling the effects of the alcohol.
	"You know, I could deal with it if he was
screwing one of his nurses. That I could fight
against."  She said unexpectedly.  "But his only
mistress is his fame."
	Michael almost dropped his drink upon
hearing her remark.  Never could he have imagined
his teacher using the word 'screw'.
	"But I'm really wasting your time with all
this, aren't I"  She said as she put down the glass,
now half empty.  "What you came here for was your
sketch book, not to listen to my problems."
	With that she produced the book from
alongside the arm of the chair.  It was obvious that
she must've been looking at it prior to his arrival.
	"I guess I was a little hard on you over this
yesterday.  Sometimes I get a little too wrapped up
in my 'teacher mode'."  She said as she flipped
through the pages.
	"Well I guess maybe I deserved some of it." 
Michael said, trying to sound contrite. 
	"I made much too much of it all."  She said
as she once again scanned the offending pages. "If
anything, maybe I should've been flattered by it."
	Michael couldn't believe what he was hearing
but he wasn't about to contradict her.  Not at least
until he had the book and was out of here.
	"I think it's been a long time since anyone's
though of me like this."  She said as she looked
down at drawings of her engaged in various sexual
activities.
	Michael opened his mouth to say something,
then decided that silence was really golden. Better to
just let her go on, since she showed no indication of
stopping anyway.
	"I have to say though, with the only view of
me you ever saw being  that of the schoolteacher,
you did a really great job with these sketches."
	Her reference to her school outfits made the
youth suddenly realize that he had been staring at
her breasts all the time they'd been sitting there.
Luckily she hadn't seem to notice.
	"Of course my nipples are much bigger in
real life."  She said so casually that Mike did a
double take.  "And I don't have a bush like that. I
keep it nice and trim. But of course you had no way
of knowing that."
	"Err, maybe I should leave before your
husband gets back."  Michael suggested, hoping she
would take the suggestion and let him leave with the
book.
	"Oh don't worry about him,"  She said,
dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. "He's
attending a dinner in his honor at the club.  That's
where I'm supposed to be by the way.  But after the
fight we had before leaving, the one where he put his
pronouncement on the end of my teaching career.
He decided that I could stay home.  I can see him
there now, telling people that I had to stay home
with a headache."
	"One thing I am curious about."  She said,
"And I really like to satisfy my curiosity about it
before you leave."
	"Sure anything."  Michael replied quickly, his
hopes rising when she mentioned his leaving.
	"I've noticed that in all the drawings, you've
depicted yourself as rather well endowed." She said. 
"And I'm curious as to whether that's a true to life
depiction or just wishful thinking."
	"What? Michael asked.  "You want to know
if I really look like that naked?"




-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Priorities ....

	A hundred years from now....
	  	 It won't matter how much money I had....
			What kind of house I lived in ....
				Or what kind of car I drove...	

	What will matter is that the world might be a better place...
		Because I was important in the life of a child. 	

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