Calamity Jayne Goes to College (16 page)

"I think you're mistaken," he said.

"And I suppose that wasn't you Dixie and I chased out of Professor Billings's office and down the corridors of the State Medical
Examiner's office the day Professor Billings's office was broken into either," I said, throwing out the possibility once I'd
made the connection to Danbury.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Trevor said, and he stood.

"I think you do, Trevor," I pushed. "And I can understand your reluctance to talk about it. Obviously you and Professor Danbury
are... close, and you don't want to feel like you're narcing him out, but lots of innocent people are being hurt here and
it has to stop."

"And you think Sherm has something to do with what's going on here at Carson?" he asked. "You think he was the one who jumped
Professor Billings last night?"

I stood.

"How'd you know she was jumped, Trevor?" I asked. "Professor Billings didn't mention a thing about her assault in class this
morning, did she, Dixie?" I asked, and Dixie shook her head.

"And I know for certain no one here said anything about her being jumped, so how would you know that, Trevor?" I asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You're wrong about Professor Danbury, you know," he said. "He couldn't do something like
that." He hurried to his car.

I thought about how most every other crime had, unfortunately, been successful, but the sexual assault on Professor Billings
had not. I thought about Trevor's words:
He couldn't do something like that.
Maybe because his desires lay in another direction? It was something to consider.

Dixie and I were late getting to Camp Dodge, and by the time we'd made it through the various checkpoints and down to the
obstacle course, it was almost eleven.

I greeted Patrick with my Lady Di shy look, still kind of ill at ease after our kiss the night before.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Frankie asked. "I was beginning to worry."

Dixie filled the men in on our conversation with Trevor.

"It's still speculation, but it is interesting. And maybe you can use it to lean on Childers," he said, speaking to Patrick.
"Maybe pressure him to turn on Danbury--if there's anything there, that is."

Patrick nodded. "It's useful information," he agreed. "Way to go, Starsky and Hutch." He grinned.

"I'm Starsky," I said. "She's Hutch." I pointed at Dixie.

"You can't be Starsky," Dixie objected. "Starsky has dark hair. Hutch is the blond."

"Owen Wilson played Hutch and he has, like, this monstrous nose," I said. "Look. Look at this nose," I continued, turning
so the other three could see my profile and pointing at the middle of my face. "Tell me that is even close to an Owen Wilson
nose. I may have a butt that is all over the place, but my nose is tiny and cute and adorable."

"Well, you can't be Starsky," Dixie said.

"Why not?"

"You're blond and you're too tall! That's why!

"Ladies, ladies!" Patrick put his hands up. "Let's pretend I said Cagney and Lacey instead of Starsky and Hutch."

"Oh, nice. And I suppose Blondie there gets to be Cagney and I have to be horse-face Lacey," Dixie grumped.

"If the horse face fits, wear it," I said.

"Would you two just can it?" Frankie snapped. "We're here to see if we have the right stuff to be professional law enforcement
officers, and you two want to quibble about which of you is going to be which made-up character. Doesn't that sound a bit
immature?"

"She started it!" I yelled, pointing at Dixie.

Frankie shook his head. "Carry on, Patrick," he said.

For the first time I noticed what Frankie was wearing. He had on a pair of dark blue, zippered coveralls.

I lowered an eyebrow. "Uh, what are you wearing there, Frankie?" I asked.

"Academy-issued coveralls," Patrick explained. "I brought one for each of you." He handed both Dixie and me a pair.

"What are these for?" I asked, unfolding mine and holding it out in front of me. "Hey, look! Give me a Captain Kirk mask and
I'm Michael Freakin' Myers!"

"Grow up!" Dixie snapped, obviously still bent about the Starsky/Hutch, Cagney/Lacey thing. She unfolded her coveralls and
started to climb into them.

"You'd better do some growing of your own if you plan to run in those things," I said, laughing when I saw how far the hems
dragged the ground on her.

"At least I can get mine zipped up," she said, watching as I struggled to get the zipper of my coveralls up over my rhinestone
belt buckle.

"Patrick must've picked up a small, thinking that was my size, right, Patrick?" I said, giving him a
go along with me or suffer the consequences
look.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry," he said, underwhelming in terms of his convinction.

I finally got cinched in and pulled my camera out of my bag.

"What is that for?" Dixie asked.

"Well, you see, Dixie," I began, "what you do is you look back here, center the object in the rectangle, push the button,
and light strikes a digital sensor thingy that has millions of teeny, tiny sensor points called pix--"

"I know how a digital camera works," she said. "What I'm asking is, what do you plan to do with it?"

I looked at her. "Well, you see, Dixie, what I plan to do is look back here, center the object--"

"Oh, for the love of God!"

"Tressa is doing an article for the
Gazette,"
Frankie explained. "She thought it might be newsworthy to hometown readers that you and I--boyfriend and girlfriend--I mean
girlfriend and boyfriend--are attempting to get into the DPS Academy together."

Dixie nodded slowly. "I see. Tressa thought it would be newsworthy," she repeated. "Did it ever occur to you, Frankie, that
maybe she just wants a good laugh at our expense?" she added.

"Dixie! I'm hurt that you can think such a thing! Frankie is my dear cousin. I would never capitalize off his humiliation,"
I protested.

"But I'm fair game, right?"

"Are we going to do this or not?" Patrick asked.

We made nice and headed to the starting line, and Patrick walked us through the course, starting with a bunch of low ropes
zigzagging near the ground.

"Where's the barbed wire?" I asked.

"What barbed wire?" Patrick responded.

"The barbed wire I wanted to see Dixie crawl under."

He grinned. "We use rope."

Rope? How hard could that be?

Patrick demonstrated the proper way of negotiating the first leg of the course without touching the ropes. He dug his elbows
in the sand, keeping his tushie low as he pulled himself along the sand like a seal.

Next came the rubber tires, and Patrick quickly showed us his technique for not tripping. Then the monkey bars, which for
various reasons I felt sure I could excel at. Then came the rope swing across a water-filled pit, followed by a tall wall
with ropes dangling down the side. Dawkins completed the course without breaking a sweat.

"Bravo! Bravo!" I applauded. "Very impressive performance, Super Trooper Dawkins," I said, thinking his bum wasn't bad either.
"Really excellent!

"Now, Dixie," I said as we made our way back to the starting line, "if you could just lie down there and dig those elbows
in, with your butt down, I think I could get some photos I can work with."

"You first," she said, and I looked at her.

"Huh?"

"Why don't you two race?" Patrick said, and I gave him a
have you lost your mind?
look.

"How can I take pictures if I'm participating?" I said.

Patrick took the camera from me. "I'll take the pictures," he said. "You run the course with Dixie, then I'll run it again
with Frankie."

I looked at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He gave me a wide-eyed, innocent stare. "Who? Me?" he asked. "Ladies first." He waved his arm.

I took my place at the starting line.

"I want it noted that I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here," I said, pointing down at my harness boots-- footwear more designed
for the back of a horse or a hardwood country-western dance floor than a race through a tactical course.

"That's what you get for wearing boots so often, Calamity," Dixie said.

I looked over at her and gave her an evil stare meant to psych her out. In return she did the voodoo finger thingy, pointing
at me with her fingers and then back at her eyes.

"Okay. When I blow the whistle, take off," Patrick said.

"Here's a kiss for luck, Dix," Frankie said, and he gave his girlfriend a kiss. I made a hacking, gagging sound.

"Here's
your
kiss for luck, Calamity," Patrick said, and I tensed. He brushed a feather-soft kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks," I said. "But this should be a stroll in the park. After all, two of her legs don't equal one of mine."

"I wouldn't get too cocky, Tressa," Patrick warned quietly. "Dixie may be small, but she has the instincts of a feisty little
rat terrier."

"In other words, what you're saying is, 'Watch out, she bites!'" I laughed.

Patrick did too. "Something like that."

We took our places, and Dixie and I exchanged final eat-my-dust looks.

Patrick blew the whistle and we were off. I dove headfirst into the sand, getting a mouthful of grit for my effort. I concentrated
on digging my elbows in the stuff and keeping my butt down. I'll let you speculate on which task proved easier. I looked over
expecting to see Dixie behind me somewhere, but was astonished to find she had taken the lead. Having no legs was a definite
advantage in this section of the contest, I decided.

I continued crawling, only to have my ass get hung up in the ropes, and had to backtrack to extricate myself. I emerged from
the ropes determined to overtake Dixie on the rubber tires, but instead found my boot heels getting caught on the insides.
Dixie had pulled out to a worrisome lead by the time I maneuvered through the stupid rubber.

Once I got to the monkey bars, the competitive nature that had made me so unpopular at team sports kicked into overdrive.
I hit those monkey bars flying, feeling a burst of adrenaline that was almost illegal. I was freakin' King Kong! I flew across
the bars in record time, picking up precious seconds lost due to my fat arse, and finished the third leg ahead of the Destructor.

We approached the water leg and I grabbed hold of the rope and leaped on, swinging across. I felt my hands begin to slip a
second before I dropped into the cold, disgusting, gross water of the pit.

"Tressa!" I heard Patrick call out, but I ignored him. I floundered for a few seconds before hauling myself out of the water
and went back to grab the rope and try again. I saw Dixie clear the water hazard and land safely on the other side. No friggin'
way was Dixie the dwarf -ette going to defeat Tressa Jayne Turner, Rodeo Queen.

Saturated and waterlogged, but bitten by the "can't be a loser" bug, I grabbed hold of the rope and with the cry of a warrior,
I hurled myself across.

"Aaaauuughh!"

My soaked boots came to rest on dry land and I ran toward the final obstacle, the "Great Wall," to discover Dixie halfway
up and struggling to pull herself over.

I ran at the wall like a crazed person, timed my jump and threw myself at the rope, reaching as high up as I could. I grabbed
hold of the thick rope with my right hand and pulled my body up, the pressure on my armpit so excruciating I thought I was
going to pull my shoulder out of the socket. I started up the rope, hand over hand, my wet boots slipping and sliding down
the side of the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dixie to my right reaching out to grab the top of the wall.
I started moving my feet as quickly as I could, ascending the wall as fast as an eight-legged insect. Look at me, I'm Spider
Woman!

Unfortunately, my hand-over-hand performance on the rope hadn't kept pace with my flying spider feet and all of a sudden I
found those at a higher elevation than my head. And my hands. The pressure on the wet rope made my hands begin to slide down
the rope, and before I could say, "Screw Spider Woman and the web she swung in on," I was hanging upside down from the rope.

"Holy Spider shat!" I yelled, trying desperately to figure out how to right myself. "Hello? Hello? Some assistance would be
appreciated!" I yelled.

From my upside-down position I could see Dixie straddling the top of the wall like
she
was the rodeo queen. She raised her hand in the air.

"Woo-hoo!" she yelled. "Wooo-hoo!" I heard clapping and thought it was a rather inappropriate time to celebrate when I was
still hanging upside down and slipping more every second.

I heard someone tell me to let go. I looked down. Up. It was Patrick.

"You've got to be kidding," I said. "That's a long way down."

"Take your feet off the wall and let them dangle. Then ease yourself down the rope."

"I'll slide down the rope and get rope burns," I said.

"Let go, then, and I'll catch you."

I shook my head. "You won't be able to catch me. You see, I'm not really a size small."

Patrick had an upside-down grin, "Just do it."

I looked down. I mean up. Oh, forget it.

I felt a tug on the rope. Dixie was at the top of the wall above me. She leaned over the wall.

"Give me your hand," she ordered, and I stared at her.

"Are you insane? You'll let go and drop me on my head!" I accused.

She looked at me. "Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. Thanks." She held out her hand. "Now give me your hand."

I looked at the offered hand up and the alternative--the hard ground. I grimaced and stuck my hand out and grabbed hold. I
was hauled up at least five inches.

"Now grab the rope with that hand and give me your other one," she ordered.

I complied. It wasn't long before my head was back above my feet and I was lifting myself onto the top of the wall.

"Thanks, Dixie," I said, wiping the sweat from my face, with my coveralls sleeve. "That was really nice of you."

"It was nothing," Dixie said with a shrug. "We don't ever have to speak of it again," she added.