CH. 7: PLOTTING

PAUL

I had just finished the last bit of trigonometry before I followed Jackie outside into the sunshine. I shuffled my papers back together, then stretched, and stepped outside. My eyes grazed over the scenery that was my large front yard, over the shading trees, over the gates in the front, over to – Jackie.

Jackie, who had melted into a puddle on the carpet of grass, and weeping a fountain of tears, from what I could tell; I threw flat, open hand over on my forehead, and gazed over to make sure I was seeing things correctly. Yes. The same short, bright-red streaked hair, the same small figure, and the same black wardrobe that Jackie wears when she gets a chance to outside of school. My gave a terrible, horrible lurch, like when you nearly get into a car accident, and you're so terrified for your safety that your heart is throbbing in the vicinity of your throat. That's the turmoil of feelings that coursed through me when I saw her there, so vulnerable, sad – and obviously hurt. This time, my heart was throbbing not because being hurt, but the chance that Jackie might be.

That's why I felt my legs pick up speed, until I was dashing across the way, until I was at her side as fast as I could possibly move on legs alone. I saw her running mascara and tear-streaked eyes, and my heart shattered into a million pieces right there. She looked so … lonely, and so out of it. I knelt down beside her.

"Jackie," I softly, tentatively, like she was a delicate piece of crystal, and the slightest harsh word would send her off into a crash and break her forever.

"Oh… Paul," she slowly looked up at me with those melting chocolate brown eyes of hers, like she just registered that I was here next to her. Then I wrapped my arms around her, as she lurched forward, and started a fresh peal of salty, dismal tears into the front of my shirt.

"Paul," her voice was muffled because I was holding her so tightly. "Wh–what am I going to do?"

"Shhh… Baby, don't cry. What are you going to do about what?" I asked her.

I dried her tears with my handkerchief that I had previous used for… more devious reasons. After a few minutes, Jackie managed to quiet down her tears – at least they weren't flowing so freely, I mean.

She cleared her throat. "Ah, um… thanks Paul." Then a confused frown crossed her adorable face that I loved so much. "Did you just call me 'baby'?"

I laughed, "So what if I did?"

She gave me a slight shove, "I told you not to call me all those demeaning, womanizing names!"

I laughed even harder, "What ever you say, sweetheart," I managed to get out between my roaring laughter.

Jackie wasn't pleased with that, and so she stood up and tromped angrily away.

"Come on Jackie!" I called after her. "Don't be like that! I was just trying to get you to laugh."

"Demeaning words aren't funny, Paul!" She shouted back at me. Still, she slowly made her way back.

The sad look was still in her eyes and in her face. I said, "Tell me what's wrong."

Jackie slowly managed to get her lips to part, to tell me what happened to her, what made her cry this hard. "My father," were the two words she achieved in choking out. I felt like the wind had been kicked out from under my feet.

I was her expecting her to something, more like, "Paul, I broke my wrist" (I should hope not!), or maybe, "Studying has been getting to me!", but nothing concerning her father. It's like asking for a well done steak with shrimp on the side, at the restaurant, and instead being given eggs done sunny-side-up. I was totally, and utterly in shock, and taken aback.

Her dad. Her dad? My mind was rummaging through everything Jackie told me about her father. Albeit, she told me very little, but I remembered she told me the first day we met that he left them – her and her mother. He left them. My blood began to boil. How dare he, that son of a –

"If he doesn't do something, they're going to kill him," Jackie gulped sadly.

My furious gaze softened as I turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

After giving a shaky, tear-filled sigh, she explained, "I-if papi doesn't give-give them the money by Friday," to emphasize her point, her eyes widened – the day of our finals, I realized – "th-then he's going to k-kill him." She gave a cry, and covered her mouth, and began to weep harder.

I hushed her, and took her in my arms again. I wasn't sure what to say, what to do, much less what to think of all of this.

"Don't worry. We'll figure something out," I whispered in Jackie's hair. She gave a nod, which sort of was my signal to continue. "But - … Are you sure you want to help your father? Even after – even after he left your mother and you?" I softly asked.

She looked up at me, surprised. "Paul, even if he left us, he's still my dad. And I," she sighed, "I still love him. You know?"

I'm not sure if I quite "knew". But instead I told her, "Okay, then we'll help him."

"We? What do you mean 'we'?"

"I mean I'm going to help you, too. You think I'd just stand by? What from the sidelines? Of course not," I said firmly. "And Suze, Jesse, Father Dominic, they all care, too. They'll want to help – you know that."

"No way," she pulled back. "This is my problem. I don't drag my friends into possible danger. Besides, he's my father."

I stare at her impassively. "You. By yourself. Go to fight some guys who you don't even know. Alone." She fidgeted under my gaze. Then I said in an outburst, "I'm not going to let you do it. Not in this lifetime."

"Are you serious? Paul, how many times must I tell you –?"

"As many times as you want for all I care. I'm still going to help you, and that's the end of that."

She gave a groan of exasperation. "Fine, fine. But will you let the others decide if they want to come. Don't you dare try to persuade them; force them, whatever to come. Understand?"

"Honey, I have not the least intention of doing so," I lied.

"Fine," she angrily said.
"Okay," I retorted.

"All right."

"Fine."

We glared at each other. We managed to trudge back inside the house without saying another word to one another. Once we were inside, Jackie informed me she had somewhere else to be, and so she left without saying anything else. She refused to let me drive her. And I gave up, and didn't insist on it either.

I called Suze on the phone five minutes later, telling her that we, Jesse, and the Father needed to meet; I insisted that it was an emergency action. She said she'd be there right away. Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of my house. All three of them. The Father looked especially flustered, but serious and ready to listen to what I was about to tell them.

Jesse looked at me a bit untrustingly, "This had better be good, Paul. I have college finals to study for."

"So do we all," I admittedly nodded. "That's why this will only take a few minutes of your time, and ours."

Feeling satisfied, Jesse sat down, and looked serious. And of course, this was a serious nature.

"It's about Jackie's father."

They all looked confused. It was only Father Dominic who spoke up, "But in her school records there's no mention of her father."
"Exactly," I said.

"What; is her father dead?" Asked Suze. This was a legitimate question, as we were all shifters.

"No, but he very soon might be," I nodded.

That grabbed the attention of my listeners. I filled in all the blanks – or as much as I could, at any rate. Luckily I didn't need to persuade the three to join in for our cause. They easily agreed to help. In fact, they insisted on doing so, even before I proposed the question to them.

"We've got to help," Suze stood up.

"Paul, do you know where her father is going to drop off the money?" Jesse asked; all action.

"We can throw another fundraiser for him with the school," Father Dominic offered. At that, Suze and I groaned. There were always fundraisers going on at the school. Luckily our local neighbors were willing to supply us with the money we needed.

"But Father," I said, emphasizing the words, "It's this Friday."

"This Friday?" Asked the incredulous Suze. "But we have finals!"

"I know," I gave a weary sigh.

"That's no good," Jesse sat back down, deep in thought.

"Maybe…" began the Father slowly, craftily. "Something could possibly … happen at the school to… put off the day of finals…?"

"Father D!" Suze was shocked.

"Just for a day or two. Maybe for the weekend, that's all," he hastily amended.

A smiled started to bloom on my own face. "I like your way of thinking, Father."

"No, no, that wouldn't work," Jesse said with the shake of his head, still thinking. "What about my school? Besides, surely some one would notice if two local schools experienced some sort of disaster on the same day as finals. They'd suspect that it was done by kids who wanted more time to study," he looked up at us.

"All the more reason to do it," I insisted. Besides, I wouldn't mind some more time to study. And I'd think the rest of my school would agree with my way of thinking. But he did have a point. He was going to college. It would look like something more than a coincidence if we… er… oh, darn it! I can't think of a euphemism for this one. Okay fine, it would look like it was planned if we blew up the side of both schools. Or whatever the Father had planned.

"So we're back to square one," I told them.

"Not quite," Suze began to ponder. That's when she told us her plan. And, if I may quote the movie Master of Disguise, "It was crazy. So crazy it just… might… work."