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Sting!
Chapter 3
- Exposed -

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We made it through the weekend without any tornadoes, just lots and lots of wind and rain. Church meetings on Sunday were canceled, due to the Severe Warning still in effect. The power went out several times for long hours at a time, but Mom always had flashlights and kerosene lamps handy, and we stayed in the basement and ate crackers and canned fruit from our emergency survival kits. Dad said we should just pretend we were camping out or practicing for the BIG one. My three younger sisters thought it was all very exciting.

The Sunday paper carried the whole story. "Eagle Scout Saves Girl's Life." The paramedics praised Dudley Do-Good (that wasn't his real name, but that's how I thought of him) for his prompt action. They touted his life-saving skills, and mentioned that there was talk of recommending him to the National Boy Scout headquarters for a medal.
Melanie was pretty much okay, but stayed in the hospital for a couple of days for observation. By Monday, she was back home.

And by Monday, life was back to normal.
Well, almost.
Rodney Davis stopped me in the hall after lunch with a hard shove to the chest, not even caring about the zap.
"So, you think you're hot stuff now, Stinger? Huh? Huh?"
"No," I answered.
"Freak!"
"Rodney, I was just—"
"Did you like what you saw, Freak? Did you get your eyes full?"
I just stared back at him.
He leaned forward, his finger in my face. "Well, don't think you're going to get away with it. You ARE going to pay. Oh, yeah. You're going to pay, all right." He pushed me out of the way and continued on down the hall. "Watch your back, Stinger!" he yelled over his shoulder.
"What in the heck's he talking about?" I asked myself. "I saved her life, for Pete's sake."
"That's not the way he looks at it," came a girl's voice beside me.
"What?" I spun around and found myself looking down into a familiar face. The dark-haired girl.
"He's ticked off about you exposing Melanie like you did?"
"Exposing Melanie?"
"Yeah, opening her shirt like that."
"But she … she was dying," I defended. "And all he's worried about is people … people seeing her shirt unbuttoned?"
"Not people," she said. "Just you."
"You've got to be kidding."
"It's all over the school. You'd have to be deaf and blind not to see it." She glanced at my hand as I pushed my glasses back up into place. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"It's … it's … it's … okay," I stammered. I wasn't used to having a one-on-one conversation with a pretty girl. They always made me nervous, and I inevitably started to stutter. I swallowed hard and fought for control. "What's he saying exactly?"
"He's been telling the whole school what a pervert you are," she explained. "How you get your kicks spying on girls and following them around so you can zap them. Always looking for opportunities to shock them into unconsciousness so you can have your way with them. Stuff like that."
For a minute, I was too shocked to speak. "You've GOT to be kidding," I finally managed, somewhat angrily. "For heck's sake, I was just … I just … she was DYING. I didn't—"
"I know," she said, "Relax. I believe you. Rodney's a complete jerk." She looked down and blushed. "I watched you for awhile after, you know."
The girl between the trucks, I realized.
"I thought it was very courageous of you—what you did. You could have killed yourself, you know … with that wire. And I thought it was totally unfair that nobody even bothered to thank you."
"Well, people around here don't like me much," I said, still steaming.
"So I gather."
I stepped back and got a better look at her. Hmmm. Not bad. "You're new here, aren't you? I … I don't remember seeing … seeing you before."
"Well, before our run-in in the hall last Friday, we've never met."
"Our run-in?"
She chuckled. "I wouldn't think you'd forget a slap in the face so easily."
Recognition dawned. "Oh," I said. It was my turn to blush. "I didn't really get much of a chance to see you. Your … your … your hand got in the way."
"Do you always stutter like that?" she asked. "Or am I just making you nervous?"
"Something like that."
Then she smiled. Not just a grin kind of smile. It was a show-off-all-the-brilliant-white-teeth kind of smile. And teasing. One of those I'm-really-enjoying-this kind of smiles.
I looked around to see who might be watching. Nobody was really paying any attention to us.
"Come on," she said. "Let's walk." Then she made the mistake of grabbing my arm, and promptly got zapped. "Ouwie," she cried, yanking her hand back. "You DO sting people."
"You should know," I answered.
"Yeah." She started walking. "That WAS quite a shock." We were quiet for a bit. I didn't know what else we could talk about. "I've been asking around a little," she said finally. "You saved MY life Friday, too, you know."
"I did?"
"When you shocked me. You took out all the static." She looked at me and smiled. "Boy, I was so mad. I thought you were trying to … well, you know. I thought you were following me or something."
"I WAS following you," I replied. She stopped and turned abruptly to face me. Oops. THAT came out wrong. "Actually I was just interested in your dress." Oh man! "I mean the static! The static!"
She grinned. "The static? Why?"
"I don't know, really. I saw you come in with your friends, and the way your dress was so wrinkled and full of static … it was … I just had this great urge to touch it. I was attracted to it. Like it was pulling me. It was SO strong. By the time we bumped, I totally forgot … well … about you and your … " I swallowed. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she said, and turned to walk. "I'm glad you were able to find something … attractive … about me." She turned and looked at me and smiled again.
I was really getting to like that smile. I hadn't had that many smiles aimed at me in one day for as long as I could remember.
"Anyway," she continued. "We got almost to our lockers, and Cara and Ginny were chewing you out right and left. 'The Stinger Freak,' they called you. Then Ginny said, 'Well, at least he took out the static.' And I stopped and looked down. And it was perfect. I couldn't believe it. My dress was perfect. The static was totally gone. My debate went great. Everything was perfect. So, see? You saved my life."
"I'm glad," I said sincerely. I'm glad SOMEBODY appreciates me.
"Sting's not your real name, is it?"
"No. It's Stephen," I answered. "With a P-H. Stephen Ray Fischer. But nobody calls me that except my mom. She doesn't like Sting at all. Actually most of the time she still calls me Stevie, like I was a little kid or something. Or Stephen R, when she's mad."
"What do you want me to call you?"
That question sent goosebumps up my spine. It meant that she might actually plan on talking to me again. Awesome! I cleared my throat. "Sting is fine," I answered. "I've been Sting for so long, anything else sounds funny."
"Sting Ray Fischer." She laughed and spun around. "Sting Ray!"
"Yeah," I answered glumly. "Fortunately, only my family and closest friends know my middle name. And if that ever got out—"
"Does that mean I'm one of your closest friends, then?" She batted her long eyelashes at me, and I just about melted right there on the spot.
"If you … if you … if you … " I cleared my throat again. "I mean—"
"Yes, I want to be," she said with a note of finality. It was as though she had just arrived at the most important decision of her life. "I want to be your friend."
My heart rate nearly doubled. "Well, it's not a very big fan club," I warned. "In fact, you're the first official member." I lowered my voice. "I don't really have any friends—close or otherwise."
She stopped again. Her whole face became intensely serious, and her eyes penetrated me deep and hard. When she blinked a couple of times, they seemed to get a little wetter than they should have been. "Then it's about time you had one, I'd say."
"You don't know what you're saying," I said, my better judgment finally catching up to me. "If you start hanging around with me, YOUR fan club will be about the same size as mine."
She smiled again, and her moist eyes just sparkled.
DANG, that smile. Doesn't she know how she KILLS people with that smile?
"I want to be your friend, Sting," she said. She reached out to touch my arm again—and stopped at the very last second.
She remembered.
The moment of truth, I realized.
For a second or two, neither of us moved. Then she looked me in the eye, laid her hand on my arm, GOT ZAPPED, blinked twice, tried real hard not to flinch … and smiled again.
"I've got to get to class," she said, backing away slowly. She wrapped her arms around her books—just like she'd done out in the street.
"Okay," I answered, practically in a trance. I sure wish she'd wrap her arms around ME like that.
"See ya later, then," she said, still walking backwards.
"Okay," I answered again.
"I'm sorry about the slap." She started to turn.
"WAIT!" I said frantically. "Wait!" She stopped. "What's your name? I don't even know your name."
Another incredible smile. "It's … " She paused. She almost said something with a P. There was a definite P on her lips. "Connie," she said, finally. "Connie Phillips."
With that, she spun around and walked away quickly.
"Connie," I echoed softly. I liked the sound of it. "My friend, Connie." I definitely like the sound of THAT. I couldn't help touching the spot on my arm where her hand had been.
I'd never been so happy in my whole life.
Boy, life sure has a way of turning itself around.

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	*Sting!* Chapter 3 - Exposed -

Sting! -- Previous Chapter
Sting! -- Next Chapter


We made it through the weekend without any tornadoes, just lots and lots of wind and rain. Church meetings on Sunday were canceled, due to the Severe Warning still in effect. The power went out several times for long hours at a time, but Mom always had flashlights and kerosene lamps handy, and we stayed in the basement and ate crackers and canned fruit from our emergency survival kits. Dad said we should just pretend we were camping out or practicing for the BIG one. My three younger sisters thought it was all very exciting. The Sunday paper carried the whole story. "Eagle Scout Saves Girl's Life." The paramedics praised Dudley Do-Good (that wasn't his real name, but that's how I thought of him) for his prompt action. They touted his life-saving skills, and mentioned that there was talk of recommending him to the National Boy Scout headquarters for a medal. Melanie was pretty much okay, but stayed in the hospital for a couple of days for observation. By Monday, she was back home. And by Monday, life was back to normal. Well, almost. Rodney Davis stopped me in the hall after lunch with a hard shove to the chest, not even caring about the zap. "So, you think you're hot stuff now, Stinger? Huh? Huh?" "No," I answered. "Freak!" "Rodney, I was just—" "Did you like what you saw, Freak? Did you get your eyes full?" I just stared back at him. He leaned forward, his finger in my face. "Well, don't think you're going to get away with it. You ARE going to pay. Oh, yeah. You're going to pay, all right." He pushed me out of the way and continued on down the hall. "Watch your back, Stinger!" he yelled over his shoulder. "What in the heck's he talking about?" I asked myself. "I saved her life, for Pete's sake." "That's not the way he looks at it," came a girl's voice beside me. "What?" I spun around and found myself looking down into a familiar face. The dark-haired girl. "He's ticked off about you exposing Melanie like you did?" "Exposing Melanie?" "Yeah, opening her shirt like that." "But she … she was dying," I defended. "And all he's worried about is people … people seeing her shirt unbuttoned?" "Not people," she said. "Just you." "You've got to be kidding." "It's all over the school. You'd have to be deaf and blind not to see it." She glanced at my hand as I pushed my glasses back up into place. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" "It's … it's … it's … okay," I stammered. I wasn't used to having a one-on-one conversation with a pretty girl. They always made me nervous, and I inevitably started to stutter. I swallowed hard and fought for control. "What's he saying exactly?" "He's been telling the whole school what a pervert you are," she explained. "How you get your kicks spying on girls and following them around so you can zap them. Always looking for opportunities to shock them into unconsciousness so you can have your way with them. Stuff like that." For a minute, I was too shocked to speak. "You've GOT to be kidding," I finally managed, somewhat angrily. "For heck's sake, I was just … I just … she was DYING. I didn't—" "I know," she said, "Relax. I believe you. Rodney's a complete jerk." She looked down and blushed. "I watched you for awhile after, you know." The girl between the trucks, I realized. "I thought it was very courageous of you—what you did. You could have killed yourself, you know … with that wire. And I thought it was totally unfair that nobody even bothered to thank you." "Well, people around here don't like me much," I said, still steaming. "So I gather." I stepped back and got a better look at her. Hmmm. Not bad. "You're new here, aren't you? I … I don't remember seeing … seeing you before." "Well, before our run-in in the hall last Friday, we've never met." "Our run-in?" She chuckled. "I wouldn't think you'd forget a slap in the face so easily." Recognition dawned. "Oh," I said. It was my turn to blush. "I didn't really get much of a chance to see you. Your … your … your hand got in the way." "Do you always stutter like that?" she asked. "Or am I just making you nervous?" "Something like that." Then she smiled. Not just a grin kind of smile. It was a show-off-all-the-brilliant-white-teeth kind of smile. And teasing. One of those I'm-really-enjoying-this kind of smiles. I looked around to see who might be watching. Nobody was really paying any attention to us. "Come on," she said. "Let's walk." Then she made the mistake of grabbing my arm, and promptly got zapped. "Ouwie," she cried, yanking her hand back. "You DO sting people." "You should know," I answered. "Yeah." She started walking. "That WAS quite a shock." We were quiet for a bit. I didn't know what else we could talk about. "I've been asking around a little," she said finally. "You saved MY life Friday, too, you know." "I did?" "When you shocked me. You took out all the static." She looked at me and smiled. "Boy, I was so mad. I thought you were trying to … well, you know. I thought you were following me or something." "I WAS following you," I replied. She stopped and turned abruptly to face me. Oops. THAT came out wrong. "Actually I was just interested in your dress." Oh man! "I mean the static! The static!" She grinned. "The static? Why?" "I don't know, really. I saw you come in with your friends, and the way your dress was so wrinkled and full of static … it was … I just had this great urge to touch it. I was attracted to it. Like it was pulling me. It was SO strong. By the time we bumped, I totally forgot … well … about you and your … " I swallowed. "I'm sorry." "It's okay," she said, and turned to walk. "I'm glad you were able to find something … attractive … about me." She turned and looked at me and smiled again. I was really getting to like that smile. I hadn't had that many smiles aimed at me in one day for as long as I could remember. "Anyway," she continued. "We got almost to our lockers, and Cara and Ginny were chewing you out right and left. 'The Stinger Freak,' they called you. Then Ginny said, 'Well, at least he took out the static.' And I stopped and looked down. And it was perfect. I couldn't believe it. My dress was perfect. The static was totally gone. My debate went great. Everything was perfect. So, see? You saved my life." "I'm glad," I said sincerely. I'm glad SOMEBODY appreciates me. "Sting's not your real name, is it?" "No. It's Stephen," I answered. "With a P-H. Stephen Ray Fischer. But nobody calls me that except my mom. She doesn't like Sting at all. Actually most of the time she still calls me Stevie, like I was a little kid or something. Or Stephen R, when she's mad." "What do you want me to call you?" That question sent goosebumps up my spine. It meant that she might actually plan on talking to me again. Awesome! I cleared my throat. "Sting is fine," I answered. "I've been Sting for so long, anything else sounds funny." "Sting Ray Fischer." She laughed and spun around. "Sting Ray!" "Yeah," I answered glumly. "Fortunately, only my family and closest friends know my middle name. And if that ever got out—" "Does that mean I'm one of your closest friends, then?" She batted her long eyelashes at me, and I just about melted right there on the spot. "If you … if you … if you … " I cleared my throat again. "I mean—" "Yes, I want to be," she said with a note of finality. It was as though she had just arrived at the most important decision of her life. "I want to be your friend." My heart rate nearly doubled. "Well, it's not a very big fan club," I warned. "In fact, you're the first official member." I lowered my voice. "I don't really have any friends—close or otherwise." She stopped again. Her whole face became intensely serious, and her eyes penetrated me deep and hard. When she blinked a couple of times, they seemed to get a little wetter than they should have been. "Then it's about time you had one, I'd say." "You don't know what you're saying," I said, my better judgment finally catching up to me. "If you start hanging around with me, YOUR fan club will be about the same size as mine." She smiled again, and her moist eyes just sparkled. DANG, that smile. Doesn't she know how she KILLS people with that smile? "I want to be your friend, Sting," she said. She reached out to touch my arm again—and stopped at the very last second. She remembered. The moment of truth, I realized. For a second or two, neither of us moved. Then she looked me in the eye, laid her hand on my arm, GOT ZAPPED, blinked twice, tried real hard not to flinch … and smiled again. "I've got to get to class," she said, backing away slowly. She wrapped her arms around her books—just like she'd done out in the street. "Okay," I answered, practically in a trance. I sure wish she'd wrap her arms around ME like that. "See ya later, then," she said, still walking backwards. "Okay," I answered again. "I'm sorry about the slap." She started to turn. "WAIT!" I said frantically. "Wait!" She stopped. "What's your name? I don't even know your name." Another incredible smile. "It's … " She paused. She almost said something with a P. There was a definite P on her lips. "Connie," she said, finally. "Connie Phillips." With that, she spun around and walked away quickly. "Connie," I echoed softly. I liked the sound of it. "My friend, Connie." I definitely like the sound of THAT. I couldn't help touching the spot on my arm where her hand had been. I'd never been so happy in my whole life. Boy, life sure has a way of turning itself around.


Sting! -- Previous Chapter

	Sting! -- Next Chapter


Read the backliner for Sting!