Naked in School
Emma Comes in from the Cold
Chapter 5
When I got home Monday afternoon after spending some productive time at the uni, Mrs F amazed me again with her incredible knowledge of so many people in Fairbanks.
“Emma,” she called to me when I came in the door.
“Yes, ma’am?”
I heard something this afternoon and I think it may be important—about that nasty Mr Hayword and what it appears he’s up to now.”
“Oh, blimey, what’s this now?”
“You know Rita from my bridge group?”
“Yep.” Mrs F was a bridge fanatic; played with her group every week without fail.
“Well, Rita’s cousin is the school district accountant, Roy Hodges, and his sister has a daughter in the school, a freshman, and you know her—she’s in your tutoring group. Sally Nevens.”
“Oh yes. Nice girl.”
“And that family is so grateful for what you’ve been doing at the school with her and everyone else. I suppose that’s why Mr Hodges broke confidence and passed some info on to Rita for me to warn you.”
“Damn. What’s that bloody berk Hayword up to, then?”
“Hayword came into the district office this morning asking about the status of his request to use some of the school’s Program grant funds to bring a number of Program officials to Fairbanks. It seemed that he planned to bring six people from Seattle and had arranged their flight and lodging for them starting this Wednesday. The board treasurer had cleared his request with the board lawyer last week. Roy said that he heard the treasurer say that all the flight and lodging arrangements had been made and that the Program people had their air travel confirmed and would be here Wednesday.”
“This sounds bad—I have a bad feeling about this...” I mused.
Mrs F went on. “Maybe this can help you a bit. Joe Whiston is in security at the airport and his brother has a son in the high school...”
“Yes! Larry Whiston is one of my lieutenants. His dad is in charge of security at the mall.”
“Well, perhaps Joe Whiston can find out who these mysterious Program people are,” she finished.
Yes indeed. It’s ace having such an effective intelligence branch in my little army, I chuckled to myself. I’ll ask Larry to see what he can learn about our expected visitors.
On the Wednesday afternoon after the tutoring session, Larry came rushing in with his news.
“Emma, they’re here. I’d been telling Uncle Joe about all the crap goin’ on at the school with us resisting the Program, so he was on board with us learning about who was coming in. He was watching for the daily Seattle flight and saw these six big guys get off. He said they were wearing official-looking badges, ones he’s never seen before. You told me that they were supposed to be Program officials but Unc said they looked more like private dicks, his words. Big guys who like to swagger around. Unc said he’d get the scoop on them; he’s coming to my house after supper to tell me.”
“Good job, Larry. Let me know what you find out. Ring me up later, okay?”
“Sure, Emma.”
That evening, Larry’s call came. He was excited.
“Uncle Joe told me he got a look at their checked luggage. One bag had a tag that said something like ‘U.S. Office of Social Awareness, NiS Enforcement Division, Seattle, WA.’ So we Googled the office names on the luggage tag and found that there’s actually a department called ‘Naked in School Enforcement.’ I didn’t know there was such a thing as that. They were very protective of their luggage when it came out; then rented two cars and left. That’s pretty much all we know now. Does that help?”
“Damn, I’m not sure. Let me think about this. Thanks and thank your uncle for me too.” I rang off.
I didn’t know there was such a thing, “Program Enforcement,” either, but it made sense in an ominous kind of way. How do I find out more? Maybe Sir George. He’ll know who to ring up. So I texted him the question. I got a response on Thursday.
“Good afternoon, Emma. Well, it’s still morning for you up there in the frozen north. The Program enforcers deal with problem pupils in the Program. They have wide latitude, apparently, but their authority is limited by state law so they only have civil authority. My sources told me they can be heavy-handed and use questionable tactics, though, so best be prepared if they’re visiting, as you believe they are.”
Hmm. I better find better reinforcements than kids if they bring feds to the school. Cynthia’s mum is a constable detective; I need to find out where Cynthia is now. So I went to the office. Yes, I actually do have the run of the school. With my varied hours here and at the uni, I’m always coming and going.
“Hi, Mrs Begay. You’re looking quite chipper today,” I joked. “Say, I need to reach Cynthia Master’s mum—got a personal question. I’m not going to ask you for her mum’s contact info, but could you give me the class Cynthia’s in now and she’ll tell me?”
“Let me look her up... okay, Room C117. I’ll give you a note so she can leave the classroom with you.”
“Thanks! You’re ace.”
I got Cynthia out of her class and we went to the media room; it was the closest empty room right now and we could be private there. Whilst we walked, I told her what I had learnt.
“I heard that we might have Program trouble on the way. Blokes just got here from a Program office in Seattle and they’re supposed to be some kind of enforcers,” I told her.
“Enforce how?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but it sounds menacing. Let’s assume that Hayword was given free rein to get the Program going here, and he decided to bring in some berks to intimidate us—or even use force on us, to try to get us to participate. I heard that these are big blokes and have official looking badges; that tells me that they feel self-important to needlessly display them.”
“Oh, hell. What do we do?”
“Well, I think I’ve figured out Hayword’s strategy, if you can call it that. He’s so transparent. Back in early autumn when this dog’s dinner all began and they were gonna forcibly strip me starkers, I got my solic... erm, lawyer to send a legal warning to the school that if they use force, it would be charged as a crime.”
“Emma, you need to learn the right words,” she chuckled. “And what’s a dog’s dinner? You use such weird expressions.”
“Ha. It’s Brit slang; my still using it is a bad habit. I’m trying to learn American slang but a lot doesn’t make sense to me. ‘Dog’s dinner’ means ‘a mess.’ Now that makes sense, not like a lot of Yank slang I hear,” I giggled.
“Yours makes worse sense, Emma,” she snickered. “And the legal warning—you probably mean an injunction. Touching someone with an intent to injure in any way is assault and battery, I know that from Mom.”
“Oh yeah, my lawyer said the crime would be sexual battery. So could you ring your mum and ask her what we can do? I’m guessing the showdown will come when they announce the next group of Program selectees on Monday morning. And oh, did you notice that there’s a crew in the gym covering the plywood area with tarps? I also saw a couple of very big heaters in there when I went past an hour ago. I’ll bet they plan to get the whole school in there again for the event.”
“Sure. I’ll call her now. Let’s see... Thursday morning ... she should be at her desk ... Hello, Mom?”
“...”
“Oh, no problem; I’m okay, but Emma needs to talk to you.”
“...”
“Yeah. It’s that Emma. Let me put you on speaker. Here.”
“Hi, Mrs Masters.”
“Hello, Emma. Thanks for taking Cynthia under your wing. She’s blossomed since she began working with you.”
“Thanks, ma’am. She’s a great person and’ll go far.”
“What can I help with... you’re not in any trouble?”
“Oh, no. At least I’m not. Other people might be. Let me explain.”
I told her what I had learnt, detailed my assumptions, and told her what I thought was being planned for Monday.
“Sounds to me like you figured it all out,” she said when I finished. “Yes, I know about that injunction—this is a small department, after all. Word gets out.”
“So what I didn’t mention,” I went on, “is that I know the British ambassador and he checked out what these enforcers do...”
“What? You move in high circles, young lady.”
“I guess. Anyway, he told me that the enforcers can be high-handed and, I gather, play fast and loose with the rules, maybe even with the law. Maybe it’s only by using intimidation, but maybe they even use physical force. So what I think is that even though Hayword obviously knows about the injunction, he’s making the assumption that these enforcers, since they’re federal, they’re immune from criminal charges. But I heard that they only have civil authority, not like constables.”
“Constables?”
“Erm... oh, police officers.”
“Ah. Well, you’re exactly right, dear. And even sworn law-enforcement officers can’t use force on someone unless there’s an urgent need. In general, any physical force has to be in the line of duty like when we’re responding to an apparent crime, and even then we have to follow a very precise set of rules.”
“Okay. But can you help?”
She laughed. “I’m sure help can be arranged. It’s slow right now. I’ll bet the guys in the department would be up for some fun at the expense of some federal enforcers, if they want to play foul with you kids. Hmm. How about if we have a couple of plain-clothes officers at the school Monday and ... he-he-he ... oh, they’ll love it ... have the swat team just outside? Oh god, they’ll have a ball if anything happens to get them involved. The most action they got recently was when a horny bull moose went on the rampage downtown last year.”
“Brilliant. Perfect. And oh, I just had a thought. My mind just keeps analyzing; I must have been thinking about what Hayword would want to do to throw more weight around and I just realized that I’m gonna be the prime target. Uh, I didn’t mean his weight; that just came out that way. He’s obese but I don’t like to criticize people for how they look. I know just how that feels. Anyway, Hayword thinks I humiliated him and probably figures that I was behind the initial resistance but really, it only took off after I got it started.”
“I heard all about how organized everybody in your Program resistance was. And off the record, we at the department have had a bit of a blind spot when certain things were happening outside your school. Just sayin’.” She chuckled.
Okay, that explains a lot. I wondered how some of those stunts got pulled off so smoothly. It helps when the police are on your side too.
She went on, “If you all will be in the gym, then we’ll have you covered. I think you’re right about it being done in there; it would provide a real show of force, which could explain their sending six of them. Two would work if it was just to intimidate a couple of reluctant kids. It looks like they intend to try to frighten the whole school. But if they do try to take you somewhere private instead of the gym, do this. Before Monday, pick maybe five-six friends who are in your classes and can watch out to see if you get taken away somewhere. I’ll give you a number for them to call if that happens, but I don’t expect it.”
“Sounds like a plan, then. Thanks so much for the help.”
“Thank you, dear. You have a few fans here in the department, not only me.”
“Bye and thanks.”
“Bye, Mom.” Cynthia disconnected and looked at me. “Wow. Goddamn wow.”
“Now watch your tongue, young lady,” I snarked.
“Okay, sailor-mouth. You have a great vocabulary yourself.”
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted. “Both Mum and Grandma were known for their salty language. I come by it legally.”
She laughed and headed back to her class. I had somewhere to go but now I can’t recall where. I’ve lost track of time. Okay, I’ll try the tutoring hall.
There were a few kids there. I saw three whom I could trust with the police phone number; I’ll find a few more later. Once I got that sorted, I tried to recall the names of the kids who had been in that first Program session. My guess was that Hayword would try to start with the sixteen of us, to make us a strong example of what happens if you resist. Yeah, that makes sense. I recalled the names of eleven of that group and, looking around, realized that amongst the kids here, they knew at least nine of them, probably more, and maybe between us we’d have them all. I gathered the group together.
“Okay, you blokes. You don’t wanna hear it, but there’s Program rubbish coming soon...”
“Thought that was over with!” someone moaned. Others just sighed.
“Nope. Sorry. School’s under new management, innit. So you have to keep this quiet. Okay?” There were nods. “On Monday, Hayword’s gonna try the same dog and pony show that he planned for us back in October, using an assembly in the gym; you know how that worked out for him.”
They laughed.
“So he’s gonna try doing it again, ‘cause he’s getting the gym ready as we speak. What you probably don’t remember is that during that assembly which didn’t happen, the first group of Program kids were supposed to be stripped starkers in front of everyone. Then Hayword announced our names, second week back from holiday; said we’d have to do two weeks starkers instead of one. Remember?”
They did.
“Well, I’m just about 99 percent certain that he’ll call the lot of us again at Monday’s assembly to have us stripped. So here’s what I want you blokes to do. I know that between all of us, I think we know most of those kids in that first group. So between us, how many do we actually know?”
They all began talking; comparing names of those kids they knew. Of course, of those kids they didn’t know, the ones in that first group would most likely know.
I went on. “Now then. Here’s the really secret part. Find them and talk to them in private and tell them about the Monday assembly thing. Say you heard, from a leaker in the office, that they were gonna be called to participate in the Program again. Tell them to go along with any normal orders they get, like going up to the front and stuff; they should do whatever they’re ordered to do, but reluctantly. Except if they’re ordered to remove any clothing at all. That, they must refuse. If someone just grabs them, they shouldn’t struggle very hard. They can resist, but not so much that they could hurt themselves. However, if anyone tries to pull any of their clothes off, then they should do what they can to resist and yell for help.
“But assure them it will never get that far. Help will be there instantly if anyone attempts to remove any article of clothing from anyone and they will have the best time of their life watching what will happen to the people who try it. Okay? This will only work if these instructions are kept totally secret, okay? Now go, find those kids, and tell them that they should tell only the others who were in that first group. Tell them not to spoil the fun for everyone. If any of them has a question about whether this is on the level, I’ll be happy to chat with them.”
~~~~
In the Friday morning announcements, there was no mention of any school-wide meeting that was scheduled for the Monday. Hayword obviously assumed that by keeping his assembly secret, it would mask his plans; he probably assumed that we’d somehow kill the heat in the gym again if we knew that there was to be an assembly. No, we had something more entertaining planned...
I guess the high school communication system had operated with its typical efficiency, because by mid-day Friday, it looked like every one of the kids in my first Program group had gotten the instructions and six of them had found me to get additional assurance about the festivities that I assumed would occur on Monday. Even Adam. He sidled up to me after home room (yes, his eyes were still on the floor, but there’ll be no more snarky comments from me about his doing that, okay?) and began telling me about Monday. I stopped him and thanked him, telling him that I had heard about it from someone else in the group. He shuffled away, greatly relieved at not having to talk to me any further, judging by his posture.
On the Saturday, Mrs... I should say Detective Masters stopped at my house. She had brought a small radio mike system—in crime novels, a “wire”—with her and showed me how to turn it on and where to wear it.
“This has a locating beacon too, Emma. We don’t think that they’d try to grab you, but this is our backup.”
Huh. I never thought of that. Guess that’s what police need to think about.
~~~~
The weather was a little better on Monday. It was a cold gray day, but the snow had stopped; the ice had been cleared from the roads, and all the busses arrived on time for the home room class period. When the announcements came on, the only message was that everyone was to go to the gym when the period bell rang and find somewhere to sit or stand.
When we got to the gym, all of the fold-up seating benches had been pulled out and mats had been placed on the floor, spread out randomly over the entire area of the double basketball courts, except for a big space in the middle of the gym. Okay, it’ll be crowded in here. My mental calculator looked around. A bit less than a thousand kids, in this area? I run on the track in here; it’s a 200 meter loop, the gym’s maybe about 80 by 40 meters. Looks like the open area is just under 50 meters long and 30 meters, a bit more, wide. That’s something like one and a half square meters (16 square feet) a person; a tight fit. I wonder what the fire laws say about this. When everyone got settled down, Hayword appeared but I didn’t see Jenkins anywhere. I guess he had turned the whole show over to the feds. Hayword began speaking using a handheld mike.
“I want to welcome everyone to our long-delayed assembly about our Naked in School Program,” he began, and the room erupted with booing, hooting, and jeering.
He got the noise settled and continued.
“I don’t think I have to review what the Program rules are, since all of you have gotten the pamphlet, seen the video we played for you, and heard the numerous announcements we’ve made in the past. Now we have some catching up to do since the Program is well behind schedule. So this week we’re starting up again and we will begin with the first group that was chosen last fall, but had refused to participate. I request that the students whose names I call now come to the center of the courts here.”
He read our names as the student body hushed, looking on with fascination, like a mouse stares at a snake ready to strike.
“All of you, now, come up here,” he finished.
I looked around as the named kids stood and looked around, saw each other, saw me, and then a few gestured an “okay, what now?” question.
I pointed at where Hayword was stood and began to slowly make my way there, threading between the kids on the mats on the way. As we walked up to the center of the gym, a quiet sigh sounded from the kids surrounding us. We lined up as far away from Hayword as we possibly could.
When we got there, Hayword regarded us with a barely concealed smirk and I noticed that a few gym teachers—plus six husky blokes—were stood in scattered locations around the room but were close enough to get up here quickly. There were also teachers stood at the doors, but I noticed some additional adults coming into the gym just then. The plainclothes reinforcements, I assumed. Hayword was speaking again.
“Last fall we couldn’t get the student body all together like this because the gym couldn’t be used,” he began. “But we’re here now. These students standing here were to begin participating in the Program back then, but, in violation of the federal Program law, they refused to comply. The rules call for an additional week’s participation being imposed as a penalty for this group. Now we’ll begin by class, seniors and juniors will go first to remove their clothes; we’ll get the clothes boxes for them later. But we have one special case, a student who has overtly flouted the law and who has also illegally encouraged other students to not comply with the Program rules. The punishment for this student will be four weeks on the Program. Emma Clarke, come up here now, stand in front of me. You will be in the Program for four weeks. And I want the seniors and the other juniors to line up next to her.”
I looked at him and shook my head no. Taking my lead, no one else moved, either.
“If you don’t come here, we’ll help you,” he responded. “If you try to run, those men will Taser you,” and made a hand motion to where his reinforcements were stood.
The six blokes pulled pistol-like gadgets from their belts and kind of jiggled them in their hands, whilst all of the on looking kids in the gym gasped in surprise. Hayword pointed at us, one by one, directing an adult to each of us. Two teachers filled in for the remaining two of us who weren’t approached by an enforcer. The murmuring of the kids in the room began to grow.
One big berk grabbed me (they were all big) and said, “You come with me now, miss,” and despite my resistance (for show), he almost carried me forward.
Very soon, all of us were stood in front of Hayword, who looked at us, nodded, and said, “The girls will go first...”
The pig! I thought.
“...so start undressing right now, girls.”
I shouted very loudly, “It’s illegal to force anyone to strip off, it’s a felony, and I refuse to follow your illegal request. The other blokes here with me agree, right?”
Everyone stood there with me nodded and looked defiant.
Hayword pointed to us and then to one of the enforcer gits. “Strip them.”
Two of them rushed over, grabbed me, and began pulling at my clothes. I had a heavy pullover hoodie on over a sweater and I steadfastly kept my arms down, locking my hands together. The bloke pulling on my hoodie wasn’t getting anywhere. I could see the three other girls were being manhandled too but the clots were getting nowhere with them either, when suddenly a very loud voice, clearly amplified, rang out.
“Police! You men in the front! Release the children and raise your hands! NOW!”
“Not happening!” one enforcer called out. “We’re federal officers! Keep away!”
At that, about eight police, outfitted in black padded vests, all kinds of leather belts, helmets, and face shields, wielding truncheons, came roaring in. The two enforcer blokes holding me looked up at them, amazed, let go of me, and then the two of them, the berks, pulled out their Taser things and fired them at the oncoming police. I heard buzzing sounds coming from nearby too, so more of the Tasers had been fired as well. Of course, Taser darts have no effect on someone wearing body armor. I had the presence of mind to get out of the way as the swat team officers, swinging their clubs, waded into the enforcers and quickly subdued them.
Then I noticed Hayword looking around wildly and beginning to move toward an exit. He was looking behind him at the melee as he tried slipping away, so I darted around him and tripped him; he came crashing down just as Detective Masters came running up.
“You didn’t need to do that, Emma,” she said. “He wasn’t getting out of here,” she said as she helped Hayword get back to his feet and then snapped handcuffs on his wrists whilst he objected loudly.
“Yeah, I assumed you’d stop him. But I needed to do that. Did you hear him? His lies? What laws did I break, Mr Hayword?”
“None, Emma. Calm down. You guys were perfect. Heh. I told you it was slow now. Well, not any more. Damn, all the paperwork we’ll need to do now. Stick around till we get a statement from you, okay, Emma?”
Then she turned to Hayword. “Mr John Hayword, you’re under arrest for assault, inciting sexual battery, and violating a court injunction regarding a prior attempt to engage in a similar felony. You have the right to remain silent...”
She went on, giving Hayword a canned speech which I learned was called a Miranda warning or something.
Well, I had promised everyone a show. The police put on a blindin’ good one; a swat team in action whilst a thousand enthralled kids looked on. Fortunately nobody panicked. Actually, everyone was so riveted to where they were sat or stood, watching the drama unfold, that they had forgotten their surroundings. When the action stopped, some level-headed teachers began to slowly herd the wide-eyed kids out of the gym and back to the classrooms.
I glanced around; it looked like all of the intended “victims” of today’s drama were still here and some were talking to a few suits and uniformed officers. Giving their statements, clearly. I glanced down—what’s this? A small folded-up pamphlet—yeah, that’s right where I dumped Hayword; this must have been his. I unfolded the thing. Blimey! “Naked in School Administrator’s Guide.” Ohmygod. Is this a treasure or what? I slipped it into a pocket when I noticed an officer coming over to me. He asked if I was okay and then asked me to tell him in my own words what had happened. That done, most of us “victim” kids were still there so I joined them and we did our own post-mortem. That consisted of a lot of high-fives and much congratulatory laughter. Soon a teacher appeared and shooed us out, telling us to go to class. The rest of that day was a total waste, as you can imagine.
The police had hauled away the six enforcer blokes, two teachers, and Hayword. Even though Jenkins wasn’t in the gym, they arrested him too. The fallout from this escapade was extensive. The local prosecutor’s charge sheets probably filled a book. Is that why they call it “booking” a person? Whatever, Emma, just stick to the facts. Jenkins got the lightest charge, he had been something like an accessory to the assaults by allowing it to happen in the school; the two teachers got simple assault (battery was dropped despite the fact that they had restrained two kids); but the feds got the whole book of charges. Hayword and the enforcers—damn, now that sounds like a rock group—tried to get immunity. The federal U.S. attorney in Seattle even flew in to try to persuade the local court to dismiss the charges; they were performing their official duties, he maintained. At the arraignment hearing, the U.S. attorney pointed out that one of the enforcers’ roles was to ensure that the selected participants strip when ordered.
The local prosecutor demanded that the U.S. attorney provide a reference to the legal principle which permitted the use of physical force to strip anyone naked, let alone a minor. He also asked whether forced stripping had occurred in any other jurisdictions and if so, to cite the details. The U.S. attorney couldn’t provide any. He only had documentation from several other schools where enforcers were present when some reluctant kids were stripped; however, he could not provide any evidence that the selectees involved had been coerced to do it or had clothing forcibly removed by an enforcer.
The U.S. attorney tried to explain that since it appeared that no overt force had been used in those prior cases, no criminal activity had occurred then. The local prosecutor demurred, saying that even using intimidation or threats to force someone to strip was a form of battery; also, that intimidation act certainly qualified as an assault, and there was nothing in federal law—or state law which took precedence—that permitted a child to be assaulted or battered, even if they had been selected for the Program. And if such a law could be adopted in any state, it would probably not pass judicial review.
The details of those legal things didn’t interest me much. What did interest me was that Norris wound up taking early retirement, Jenkins was sent back into retirement on judicial probation, and Smith was elevated to principal. Oh, and Williams? She had been moved over to the middle school during the holidays. The school district people were unhappy with how she had manipulated the Program selection process and falsified my permission forms. I was surprised that they didn’t sack her, though.
And some interesting information began to emerge, some of it coming from Hayword’s pamphlet. The federal rollout of the Naked in School Program had begun with the Office of Social Awareness recruiting a number of pilot schools, generally ones located in smaller communities. They had offered grant funds to these small local districts to have them run the Program for a year or two so that any difficulties could be identified and fixed before the Program became universal. This explained why our school was the only high school in Fairbanks running the Program; our school board had accepted the federal carrot. The cash. Hayword’s pamphlet also listed a few Program “enhancements” which schools could adopt to extend the Program: mandatory naked gym classes, naked cheerleaders, making lockers and loos unisex, and a few suggestions for units in hygiene and health classes. I looked over that rot. Disgusting.
With Hayword facing jail for his having directly ignored the injunction issued last October; the feds simply withdrew the requirement for running the Program at my school. It was only a pilot project, after all. Mr Jameson told me that he learnt from talking to the school district’s lawyer that the feds were seriously considering not requiring Alaska schools to have the Program unless the schools could be kept warm enough and that major changes to the Program would need to be made to accommodate the environment.
“I got a lot of info from the Fairbanks district attorney, Al Hutchins, about the Program in Alaska,” Mr Jameson told me soon after all the enforcers and Hayword had been arraigned. “There were three other Alaska schools running the Program too. There were two schools in the Anchorage area. One in Palmer and one near all the military bases. A third one in Juneau. Hutchins told me that they had some serious problems at those schools and the school officials, cops, and prosecutors were trying to keep the lid on word getting out; they were afraid that if kids in other places heard what happened, the violence could get worse.”
“Really? What happened?”
“Hutchins said that in the two Anchorage area schools, when the cold temps prompted many of the kids to resist, it wasn’t done peacefully like here. When they started the Program there right after the winter holidays and selected the first group, none of the kids cooperated, so they tried forcefully stripping a few and those kids fought back and afterwards, no one would cooperate. But something worse happened in the other school; they did the stripping in their auditorium and it basically turned into a riot; the kids just went crazy fighting with the teachers and a few of the kids and teachers were actually injured, several wound up in the hospital with serious injuries. Also, like here, none of the kids from military families would participate either.”
“At least our resistance was peaceful,” I agreed.
“You guys did well. The Juneau situation was far worse,” Jameson went on. “Alaska is truly the last of the country’s ‘wild west’; what happened was a case of vigilante justice. The Program was started there just a few weeks ago. The kids resisted there too but several kids were force-stripped. The result of that was ugly. That evening, one or more gangs of people, and from their size, most were likely adults, visited the federal Program person’s lodging and beat him to a pulp, breaking both his arms and several ribs, and leaving a warning that if any other federal Program person showed up, their bodies would be used for fish bait. And the school principal and the teachers who were involved in the kids’ stripping were also beaten, nowhere as badly though, and all the windows in their cars were destroyed. The local police have no clues, other than it must have been done by people who have children or relatives in the school, but no one’s talking.”
“You saw how our local community supported us here,” I told him. “Those other people’s reaction was terrible, way too extreme, but their children were assaulted, were given a horrid fright, and humiliated, weren’t they. Perhaps too, it was how unreasonable the feds were in their rules—you were at that meeting and saw Hayword’s attitude about kids’ health, for instance. So what did Prosecutor Hutchins think would happen now?”
“Yes, I saw how Hayword’s attitude angered everyone at that meeting, even some of the school board members,” Jameson answered. “What will happen now? I assume that Alaska schools will most likely not be required to have the Program in the future since many of its elements, like outreach and outside activities, are not feasible to require. And temps inside the schools can’t be kept reasonably warm to allow nudity all day. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Another thing we never considered, Mr Jameson. No one ever even considered what to so about starkers kids, whose clothes were locked up during the day, if an emergency building evacuation were needed.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
~~~~
There was a squabble about the district retaining the federal grant money; the district had incurred significant costs—mostly having to do with heating the buildings and “repairing” the heating systems. And the missing gym windows had to be put back. The district had also paid for a lorry-load of Program curriculum-mandated instructional materials which could no longer be used. The school district administrators were grateful for one company’s offer; as a “donation,” the company would reinstall the gym windows for the cost of the needed materials only. I knew that particular company could put the windows back exactly as they had been.
Usually court cases, like this one, which became known as the “Frozen Program,” could take a year or longer to come to trial. Rather than wait for a trial, the prosecutor decided to accept plea deals from the enforcers, so an arrangement was made. Instead of their facing a potential 20-year prison term for sexual battery on minors, firing Tasers at police officers, and resisting arrest, they were sentenced to serve one year in prison, five years of probation, and required to register as sex offenders. Which meant that they wouldn’t be allowed any jobs requiring contact with children. So they couldn’t be enforcers when they got out; that was ace. They were allowed to serve their prison time and probation in Washington State. But there was no deal for Hayword—for violating a court injunction together with the other felonies, he received a five-year sentence in a state prison. He could have gotten a twenty-year one for sexual assault on minors.
~~~~
Now it’s March; spring is almost here, and Mr Smith is occupying the principal’s chair. We get along; he’s perceptive and I think I’d have a difficult time manipulating him—not that I’d want to, anyway; he’s a straight shooter. He called me to the office.
“Emma, I’ve been thinking about you.”
Uh oh. Those aren’t words one wants to hear from your principal.
“No, no. Not how you’re thinking.”
See? He can read me. I thought I had kept my face blank.
“Look,” he said. “You’re the smartest person in the school—I suspect in the entire state, actually.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “I don’t think so...”
“Anyway. You’re totally wasting your time here, except for that stellar tutoring program you started. And the students you trained are doing a fine job too. I had an idea and want your input. Since we’re just off the UAF campus, we could be a lab school for their Education Department. I don’t know why we didn’t consider doing that before. I’d like to get some of their students in here and learn the techniques you used with our kids. We can make this an ongoing program then, when you’re gone. What do you think?”
“Brilliant, sir. I like it.”
“Now about your status. I’m recommending to the school district that you be graduated this May. I can’t see you wasting another year here when you can be fully in college. You’re up for a PhD already, hell, and still in high school. According to your dean, you’ve almost completed all of your degree requirements—even for your PhD. We can’t let you get your PhD before your high school graduation, can we?—that would look really bad for us,” he joked. “Now my recommendation would carry far more weight if I had an ACT score to show along with my support. The next tests are in April and I can sign you up. Interested?”
I was, and got signed up. I do these standard tests pretty well. England uses them some.
~~~~
Okay, that’s another step in my academic progress. I just did the ACT exam series. Wasn’t too bad; it’s a pretty rigorous series of tests. I wonder how it would stack up to the U.K.’s A-Level Exams. Probably about the same. Glad this is done with, I mused, as I left the testing room after a long day. That’s when I suddenly realized—almost exactly a year ago, it was in mid-April, that’s when I had finished my first Cooper-pair calculations. So was that day the birthday of room-temp superconductivity or an anniversary? Birthday, I suppose, since it hadn’t existed before, at least in the form I had developed. So in two days it’ll be the first anniversary, I guess, not its first birthday... Jeez... why do I get my knickers in a twist over trivia like this?
~~~~
So it’s now May and my scores are back. I have to blush ‘cause I got 36s. Even considering that the tests include social studies and biology, I still got a top score. Mr Smith told me that I will graduate with the seniors in two weeks. The office is still trying to figure out how to calculate my overall ... um ... GPA, they call it, and class standing. It seems with all of my testing out of classes, they have very few actual class grades to use to calculate a GPA. Another problem. They can’t get a graduation gown in my size in the school colors. What a hoot. It’s not that it isn’t in the catalog—it is, but they so rarely had a request for one my size, it was out of stock and had been back ordered. Pinning up the hem on a larger one won’t work ‘cause it falls off my shoulders too. So I organized a gown on the internet in size 42 since I’m a bit taller than four-feet-eleven, and the color is similar to the school color. It comes with a cap and tassel.
Joyce is cheesed off that I’m graduating.
“You’re only 13! And a sophomore! Or junior...? or... whatever... How can you graduate? They must have made a mistake!”
She was also concerned for me since I was graduating with the seniors but wouldn’t be in the school’s yearbook.
“Emma, you won’t be able to autograph your picture for your friends! Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really. I have no friends in the senior class, actually.”
Yes, that made her sad for me. But something else really bothered her far, far more than my graduating early—she was shocked—shocked, she told me, that my gown didn’t match everyone else’s. You know, she’s a fashion-conscious gal.
~~~~
Our physics papers came out. Suddenly I’m a national rock star—no, international. People got even more excited when they learnt that I’m only 13. Thirteen and a half, please! That half is important. So is the half inch it appears I grew, so now I’m finally a whole five feet tall! And I’m getting used to thinking in the English measuring system. It’s funny; it’s sometimes called the “English” (or “Imperial”) system but the English’ve used metric for ages. Well, maybe for a bit more than 30 years... as I said, ages.
I didn’t realize this, but when an important paper comes out, the author gets lots of invitations to come to universities and research centers and give a seminar or two. They pay for the travel and an “honorarium” too; the amount is based on your importance and demand for your time. Well, I guess I am very important and there was lots of demand. You know? The smallest honorarium offered was $750! For an hour’s talk. Well, there’s a whole day spent talking to the faculty plus the travel involved too. But still...
Giving seminars sounded intriguing; I love to teach, after all. But could I, first, at 13, be permitted to travel and stay at hotels and such alone? And second, on an L-2 visa, could I accept an honorarium? The payment is actually a gift of sorts, but it’s also funds given in exchange for services. It appears that as a minor, hotels would not allow me to reserve a room and possibly even to stay alone. On the visa question, contacting the U.S. State Department’s Citizenship and Immigration Services office for the answer left them scratching heads. The question had never come up before. A 13-year old L-2 visa holder getting honoraria?
“Well, could it be paid to a trust instead?” I asked.
“Oh my god. Maybe you should look into changing your visa? That would probably be easier. We’ll have to get back to you,” was the response.
Well, I went and texted Sir George and gave him a one-sentence précis of the issue.
“I’ll ring you back. Is now good?” was his text back.
“Sure.”
My mobile buzzed.
“Sir George?”
“Emma, how delightful,” he chuckled. “You bring such light into my boring bureaucratic life here. And interesting puzzles too. I heard of your publication. Outstanding work, my dear. Which leads me to a solution. We can get you an ‘O’ visa for sure, based on your groundbreaking discovery. I’ll set it up so that you won’t have to leave the U.S. and apply to return. There are many reasons to allow this waiver. So where are you thinking of giving seminars?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I have three, maybe four dozen invites and they’re still coming.”
“Fascinating. Any on the east coast? Maybe you could visit if there’s a close by school.”
“Let’s see. I sorted them by state. Maryland or Virginia, right?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay, Maryland. Baltimore. Oh my.”
“What?”
“A joint offer from Johns Hopkins and University of Maryland. They’re offering $3,000 for a two-day site visit including two seminars—they’d be combined, with people from both coming.”
“Maryland’s close to my son’s house; Hopkins is less than an hour. Ha. Faster if you use a diplomatic car and police escort. You want to look into that?”
“Why not. I’ll get some experience giving a talk away from my home territory. Let’s see, they offer a number of times during the first two weeks of June. I guess that they have a lot of open times since regular classes won’t be in session.”
We settled on a few dates when Sir George would be available and then I contacted the uni. My first real seminar! Of course, I had given four formal seminars at UAF at this point, but they were to friendly faculty members. Mostly friendly. One of the four was my oral exam; hell, they tried every way from Sunday to trip me up. A second was my dissertation defense. That was much more civil—actually fun, ‘cause I could get to ask my committee members if they really understood some of my calculations. I had developed a new way of doing Fourier transforms. I could only imagine the reaction of some pompous self-important senior professor at one of these seminars when he realizes that the speaker is a short middle-school-aged kid! Maybe my marked Brit accent will charm them.
When the week before my departure came, I hadn’t heard anything about any new visa and still hadn’t gotten an answer about honorarium payments from the federal USCIS office, so I decided to wing it. Instead of providing my Social Security number (yes, I had to have one, even though I’m not allowed to work), I sent the bank transfer info for the charitable fund which my U.K. trust had used to pay my research grant at UAF, to the Johns Hopkins money people, telling them to call the payment a donation. I sent its U.S. tax ID number also, just in case.
A week later, my flight from Anchorage to Dulles International Airport was landing, after a 13 hour flight, including the layovers. I had gotten them to pay for business class tickets too. When I got out of the security area, I saw a very well-dressed bloke holding a sign which read “E. E. Clarke.” I went to the gent and tugged his sleeve; he looked down at me. Yes, looked down.
“I’m Emma Clarke.”
“Oh! Apologies, madam. I was not anticipating encountering...”
He had a nice British accent. RP—that’s the Brits’ “received pronunciation.” . Very nice. I felt right at home.
“It’s okay. I’m used to that,” I giggled. “One day I’ll grow up... I hope.”
“But you’re famous... erm, well, I was expecting someone taller. I’m Anston Tieders.”
I gave him a big smile and pulled on his arm. “C’mon. Just one bag. It’s a vile turquoise-puce color, medium size. Can’t miss it.”
I handed him the claim check.
We got my bag and headed out to... wow, a stretch limo with diplomatic plates. And Anston wasn’t the driver either, since he got in the back with me and offered me refreshments from a fridge built into the limo.
“Okay, Miss...”
“Please, Emma.”
“Emma. I am a press attaché at the embassy. I must apologise once again for not meeting you at arrivals. Sir George did not give me much information, only mentioning that you are studying at a high school and taking university courses, so I had certain expectations...”
“No; it’s no problem. He’s only seen me sat at a table during our video conference and didn’t know that I’m ... well, somewhat shorter than the typical high school girl.”
“Thank you, madam. On a separate note. The press has been informed that you will be conducting those workshops here and have discovered that you are a British citizen, so they have reached out to my office.”
I chuckled.
“What? Have I said something amusing?” he wondered.
“No. The media wanted to interview me up in Fairbanks too but they were too lazy to fly up there so they were pestering the uni to do it by video. I put them off by saying I was too busy with graduation and preparing my talks. So they’ve caught up with me?”
“I expect so. Some of their interviewers rang our office and inquired about how to contact you. Your workshops are scheduled for the Wednesday and Thursday; you preferred to have tomorrow off to recover from your journey.”
“Yep.”
“You will be staying at the embassy residence. Would it be possible for you to spare an hour in the afternoon for a press conference? It could significantly enhance the public relations for Great Britain.”
“Sure, I can do that. Anything I should know?”
“These will not be the usual correspondents, such as political or social. They will likely be science or technology reporters, so I do not think you will have questions about boyfriends and the like," he chuckled, "although there may be some society reporters since they will know you are a woman in a university doctoral program. So they will assume you to be 24 or 25 and will wonder how you got into physics.”
“Ah. Yes. This might actually be fun,” I said.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Bring ‘em on.”
Next: Emma visits the U.K. ambassador and meets his family. Then she gives an interview and a seminar; her appearance causes a minor sensation among the audience.
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