We sat down to a lunch of leftovers. After a few minutes of eating in silence, Mike cleared his throat.
"Um, I hate to say it but I think we should seriously discuss Lenora’s future with us."
"What exactly do you mean Mike?" Peter asked.
"Well I think recent circumstances have changed her ability to return home . . . "
"You’re right Mike. For one thing, I have powers now. It’d be very hard to return to my other life with those. Also this link . . . it might not be easy to sever -- it seems pretty deep, and Micky can’t exactly come live with me there." I picked at my salad. "Besides, we may never find a way to send me back."
"We don’t wan’ you t’ go back, luv. We wan’ you t’ stay here," Davy said.
"Yeah. Besides, you’re right about the link. I don’t think I could live without it. Nor could you," Micky added.
"Then if she’s to stay we should discuss living arrangements." Mike blushed slightly. "Like sleeping arrangements -- I can’t exactly sleep on the couch forever."
"Why couldn’t we just add a third bed in the upstairs room?” Peter suggested.
"That’s a good idea Peter," I said. "It’s certainly big enough, and I don’t mind sharing with Mike and Micky."
"You don’t?" Mike asked. I shook my head. "Well then as soon as we get our prize money we’ll go furniture shopping."
" ‘Ey, wha’ about Babbit?" Davy asked.
"He’ll just have to accept the fact that we’re a fivesome now. And not up the rent too much. Besides, we’re working steadily now, at least for a little while, and as soon as Len’s social security card comes, we can start looking for a side job for her. Unless you’d rather just be a Monkee," Mike said and winked at me.
"Well I admit, there’s not much I’d rather be doing. And most of my skills are useless now. I’m a decent typist, but my typing speed is hindered by mechanical typewriters -- I’m used to a different kind of typewriter, with a lighter touch. Most of my training is in computers, and not room-sized ones that use punch cards. About the only other skill I’ve got is writing, writing fiction, and there’s not much marketability in that skill." I sighed.
"Then keepin a steady gig is the plan. Unless you can sell a story," Mike said. "When we get your bed we’ll also get a typewriter so you can work on some fiction to sell."
"Okay," I said. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t really get much in the way of a job to help support the band, but my main skill was webmastering and without an internet, that skill was useless. "I guess I can start working on that novel I’ve been meaning to write."
"What’s it about?" Peter asked as he served me more salad.
"Well, I wrote a story in high school called ‘Killiecrankie’ that was set in Scotland -- a young woman finds herself transported to the 14th century, and she ends up helping fight a historic battle. I’ve been meaning to expand the story, to have her not get home right away but rather bounce around in Scots history, visiting major historical periods. All the Jacobite rebellions, the Union of the Crowns, and so on."
"Sounds groovey!" Micky said.
"Yeah, if that sells we could easily live off the royalties for a long time!" Davy cried.
I blushed, "Oh it’s not that good! It’s not even written! Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched Dave."
"Don’t sell yourself short either Len. Write that -- and then we’ll help you get it published." Mike winked at me. "Now, shall we try some war games to get the feel for our powers once the lunch dishes are cleaned up?" Everyone murmured agreement and began to clear the table.
Half an hour later, we were on the beach. Micky and I were on one team, with Davy, while Mike, Peter, and Isa comprised the other team. Even match, since we had two fliers and one non-flier on each team. We’d grabbed two of Isa’s unused notepads, and each team had one. The goal was to get the opposing team’s notepad.
Micky and I blinked out when Mike announced "Let the games begin!" Davy grew to eight feet tall and stood in front of the "goal" that we’d drawn in the sand using a rope. There was another one several yards down the beach. The notepads were in the goals.
This will be easy! You swing to port and I’ll swing to starboard and we’ll meet up at the other goal, Micky ordered
Gotcha! I replied. I lifted off the sand on my fields and floated up and to the left. Peter had shot in the air and was heading towards Davy. Isa was nowhere to be seen. Be careful Mick, I don’t see Isa.
Probably became a ghost. No match for my fields though! Micky chuckled.
I smiled and continued towards the other goal. I noticed Mike sauntering over towards Davy but I didn’t do anything, figuring Davy would be able to handle him. I reached the other team’s goal a moment later and swooped down to grab the notepad. I sensed Micky right beside me somehow, and said, I got it.
Okie dokie! He backed off a few feet as I reached down . . . and something snagged my wrist.
"Let go invisible boy," I heard Isa hiss.
"Wrong-o! Try invisible girl!" I cracked and managed to wiggle free. I used my shields to pick up the notepad and toss it to Micky who grabbed it. It instantly became invisible and we both started to fly back towards our goal.
"Micky! Len! ‘Elp!" Davy cried. I looked towards our goal to see Mike shooting lasers at Davy and Peter floating around him towards our goal.
Uh oh! Micky cried.
Leave Peter to me! I poured on the speed and reached our goal in less than a minute, beating Peter there. I raised a field around the goal and Peter ran right into it.
"What the -- ?" he cried. Just then I locked his arms to his sides with fields and tossed him back towards his own goal.
Let me in Len! I’ve got the notepad! I dropped the field momentarily and Micky landed next to me. We joined hands and lifted an invisible dome over the goal together, using our combined strength, before shimmering back into view.
"Game’s over! We win!" I called. Davy whirled and shrank down to just over six feet.
"Sneaky tactics!" Mike said.
"I’ll say! One of them hogtied me -- and whoever it was better release me now!" Peter called. I giggled and dropped the fields.
"Yeah and Len was able to sneak out of my grip and grab the notepad from the goal before I could stop her!" Isa said.
"Just goes to show ya who the most clever team is!" I said. Moments later clouds of sand pelted the dome that was still protecting our goal.
Good thing we’ve got that up, huh Len? We’d be blind from all that sand! Micky said, and beamed at me.
You got that right.
"Okay, stop it Peter and Isa. You can get rid of the shields, guys. Game’s over, you won," Mike said.
"Can’t we have a rematch?" Peter whined.
Mike looked at his watch. "Nope. We gotta rehearse."
"Aw man . . . "
"Tomorrow Peter. Tomorrow."
Last updated 23 OCT 98
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