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Chapter 4

“So you’re saying that what’s happened with Tom has happened before,” Taylor was saying as Angela’s thoughts returned to the present.

“Absolutely. Furthermore, Tom had a second psychological evaluation done in Munich which supported the first doctor’s recommendations. I provided copies to the office of all of the doctors’ reports with my request for his exemption from being required to shower after P.E. I suspect that his panic in school the last two days was worsened because his exposure to nudity didn’t give him any quick way of avoiding it. The previous times, he could just retreat and the situation would disappear. In school, he didn’t have that option.

“So you see, Dr Taylor, we’ve known about Tom’s phobia for more than four years. And it’s apparently not getting any better; from what happened at the school, it appears that it may even be worse,” Angela summarized.

“Hmmm... I see,” Taylor mused. “I’ll need to discuss his situation with the counselor and our Program coordinator and get their recommendation for how we should approach his situation.”

“If you can do that, sir, I’d be very grateful; thanks.” She disconnected.

That evening, Lynette recalled the envelopes which the counselor had given to them. She brought them to her mother.

“These are from the counselor, Mom,” Lynette said. “One’s for Tommie. Remember, she wasn’t there when you brought us in to register.”

“Right, sweetie. Let’s see. Uh oh... Some kind of consent forms for that stupid naked program,” Angela said, scowling.

“What is it?” Lynette asked.

“One’s an acknowledgment that the parents are aware that our children will be required to participate and a waiver absolving the school from any incidents which occur that are not under their control. Like we’d ever agree to that. And a certification that the girl has had the birth-control and STD immunization within the past three months. Dad and I will be returning these with a letter saying we refuse to acknowledge any activity which has the potential of causing harm to our kids.”

“Oh jeez; thanks, Mom.”

~~~~

On Wednesday, Tom returned to school again. In the classes which had Program kids in the room, he sat in the back and kept his eyes covered, first using the brim of a cap, but after one teacher told him to take the cap off, that hats weren’t permitted, he just slumped down and read—or attempted to read—the textbook. He remained completely unresponsive to the teachers when they tried to call on him. The others in the classroom noticed Tom’s behavior but attributed it to his simply being an uncooperative kid; there were a number of them in school, after all. Lynette, who sat near him, twice came to his defense, quietly explaining to the teacher that Tom was taking strong medications. Early on, in two of his classes where Tom was being unresponsive, those teachers sent him to the office, but Tom was quickly sent back with a note telling the teacher to let the boy stay; that the head teacher was aware of Tom’s condition.

Tom had planned for his gym class by wearing his gym outfit under his normal clothes, so he didn’t even go into the locker room; he changed in a toilet booth in the boys’ room and stowed his regular school clothes in his locker, earning himself some puzzled stares from a few kids who noticed.

During class changes, Lynette became Tom’s guide. She led him to each class and he simply followed her, averting his eyes so as not to see any of the hall activities involving the kids in the Program.

By Friday, his medications were beginning to have more of an effect. His senses were still considerably dulled, of course, but they had also taken the sharp edges off his anxiety. No longer did Tom feel extreme anxiety when he caught a glimpse of some nudity or heard the sounds of a relief session in front of the classroom. But instead of the feelings of panic which he had experienced earlier in the week, he was now feeling a sense of great dread, it was the sense of a threatening presence which always seemed to be looming nearby. It seemed to him to be like an evil darkness which was watching him hungrily. Now, when he got unavoidable glimpses of naked kids, his response was no longer one of a crushing panic; instead he felt a compulsion to flee in order to escape the constant physical threat that hovered just outside his perception. Tom didn’t know it, of course, but he was developing paranoia. He wasn’t aware that the hallucinations which were plaguing him could be one of the side effects of his medications.

~~~~

On Friday morning, Dr Taylor had scheduled a meeting with the school counselor, the Program coordinator, and the local Education Authority representative, to discuss Tom’s situation. The Education Authority office in each local district was part of the government agency responsible for administration of the state-funded schools in the United Kingdom, and as such, the officials in these agencies were ultimately responsible for running the Naked in School Program in the schools. Taylor summarized Tom’s situation for the group and he discussed what he recalled of Tom’s history as Angela had related to him earlier in the week.

“That’s what I’ve learned from speaking with the boy’s mum. I also have some information from our nurse, who’s treated him on several occasions, and it appears the boy does indeed get panic attacks. He’s on medications now but his teachers tell me that he’s been mostly unresponsive and inattentive in classes. He won’t even lift his head to look at the teacher in any class where someone in the Program is present.”

Miss Richardson, the counselor, added, “His mum’s brought in a letter—I gave copies to the P.E. teachers—that says he’s not to use the locker-room showers. I understand from the P.E. teachers that they’ve noticed that Tom wears his P.E. kit under his school clothes. They say he doesn’t even use the locker room to change clothes; does it in the loo. Like a super-hero.” She giggled. “He changes in a red box, well, I guess a loo stall is almost like a box in the loo but they’re not red, there’s no windows, and there’s no phone.”

The others chuckled.

Taylor went on, “So I told the mum that we’d try to work out something so that Tom can more fully participate in school and that’s why we’re meeting. We do need to get Tom’s situation sorted, don’t we. I’d like to get some suggestions.”

Stuart Gray, the LEA official, spoke. “When the National Program Committee was developing the Program three years ago, I recall hearing a talk from their psychologist. She explained that the modesty and fear of exposure, anxieties, and all that rot which plagues our youth, is what the Program is designed to overcome, innit? I also recall something about treating phobias from my psych class back in my uni days—goodness, it’s almost twenty years ago, oh my—about, ahh, a kind of therapy that’s used.”

Richardson chipped in, “Exposure therapy.”

“Just so,” Gray agreed. “Something like when you expose a person afraid of heights to a high place and keep them there, they gradually get used to it because they see nothing bad happens. The Program shrink went on about methods of getting reluctant kids to overcome their fears and said that ideally, shy kids could be slowly acclimated to the idea of being naked. And she said good control over the situation was essential, controlling the pupils’ environment in the school, and also the Program, to protect them. We do that in schools now, don’t we; we prepare the pupils for facing the Program in their school by using introductory assemblies and having volunteers to start off—it gets pupils ready to face the time when it’s their turn. We do the week’s first disrobing in private—just the Program pupils—and we control the school environment by having very firm rules in place for the Program. So I believe that with the kind of issues that this pupil apparently has, perhaps you could somehow get him acclimated to nudity, by doing it very gradually? Much more gradually than usually done. Get him used to seeing nudity; then it’ll be normal for him, wouldn’t it. You’d have to find a way to start his Program participation in a controlled way, I’m sure, or else he’ll continue in his current behavior.”

“Sorry?” Miss Richardson asked. “Put him in the Program? That would be a dreadful shock to the boy, it would.”

Taylor looked at Gray. “Is what you’re recommending, Stuart, that we should put Tom in the Program? Really? How can that help him?”

Gray shot a hard glance at Richardson and then addressed the head teacher. “Many children put into the Program experience some degree of shock, don’t they. Some are quite frantic. It hasn’t killed anyone—well, I take that back. Those incidents were unfortunate. The children were not properly supervised, were they. Despite those problems, the Education Ministry strongly believes that this rampant teen modesty that we’ve seen recently has to be overcome to ensure psychological balance in their future adulthood. That’s the intent of the Program as I gathered from that Program shrink,” he declared, then shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sure you know that the Program is supposed to make kids get used to overcoming any modesty issues, innit?”

Taylor turned to the Program coordinator. “You have anything to add, Janice? What do you think?”

Janice Dodson nodded. “Well, Stuart’s theory seems good and I recall some things from my educational psych class. And unlike Stuart’s class, mine was only three or four years ago. As well, the material we covered in my orientation as Program coordinator had a little psych stuff in it. Back in grad school, we saw good results from studies of controlled exposure treatments, as I recall. They used those fear of flying classes you see in adverts as an example, and in only a few sessions, the people who did the sessions were mostly cured. Well, cured enough to be able to take an airplane flight, anyway. Those sessions were supposed to take only three or four one-hour time blocks. If we put the boy in the Program, then after his spending one or two six-hour days naked, I’m quite convinced that he’d get over his difficulty with his public nudity aversion and everything else the kids need to do, wouldn’t he.”

Gray interrupted, “But remember, the Program shrink said the exposure has to be ‘controlled.’”

Dodson shrugged. “Not sure how we could control what happens with one single pupil when the Program is running, unless someone is with him constantly...” she mused.

“Okay, I know. So we could control the events at the outset,” Richardson offered. “For many of the children, it’s a real shock for them to have to strip off for the first time in a group of pupils like they have to do. For this boy, it would have been really horrid for him if he had to strip publically like we had the kids do in the Monday’s assembly, on stage in front of the entire school. That would really frighten him—wait, that’s right, he panicked just watching, didn’t he? Even if he had to strip off with a small group of other children watching, like we’ll have the children doing starting on Monday, it would be a fright for him. So maybe we can do it in a controlled situation; we’d let the boy strip and get used to being naked alone. Have him undress privately and then have him wait for an hour or so with no other children around, just an adult to supervise. That will allow him to get used to being naked before he goes out. And yes, we shan’t send him off into the hall straightaway when classes are changing; instead, let’s bring him directly to his first classroom after the halls are empty. That will continue to keep him in a controlled situation, in a class with just a couple dozen pupils, all under close teacher supervision. Only after that adjustment period of several hours, will he need to go into the halls. Is that controlled enough?”

Dodson nodded. “Yes, quite. That’s brilliant. As well, I’m sure that the boy’ll be really reluctant, resistant probably, when he’s told he has to get naked, so we should have a couple of teachers nearby to ensure that he strips, won’t we?”

The group continued to discuss their plan for Tom’s time in the Program for another few minutes and soon the details were finalized.

~~~~

It was Sunday afternoon in the Armstrong home and Tom was still hard at work trying to catch up with all of the class work he had missed the previous week. Lynette was helping him, sharing her class notes, and trying to assist Tom when he got stuck. After a while, Tom begged for a rest.

“Lynnie, I’m reaching the end of my concentration,” he sighed. “My head’s buzzing and I can’t see straight anymore.”

Duncan overheard Tom and came into the room. “Hey sport, d’you still feel like a zombie now?”

“Aahhh, no, Dad. Still very tired; don’t sleep well. But I feel all tense... um, wound up, you know?—and like I get really annoyed when I can’t figure out something. Like a burning anger, I guess. And I can’t concentrate when I feel like that.”

“Hmmm... that sounds like it could be one of the pills’ bad side effects. I’ll look into that tomorrow. Maybe your dose is too high. When you think of being in classes with naked people, how do you feel about that now?”

Tom sat and thought for a dozen seconds. “Ugh. What it is—is dread, I think. Yeah. Danger. Darkness. Blackness just out of my sight. Oh god, I don’t know!” he moaned. “I don’t ever look at those kids. But I just had a memory of a stupid relief session I couldn’t help hearing. I didn’t watch it—couldn’t. But in my mind—ugh, the images of those kids being naked in front of everyone, with everyone watching. And then it seemed like there were these black eyes watching me out of this black cloud, hungry, waiting for... I don’t know what... for me to fall into that blackness around its eyes. But I don’t feel faint, it’s more like a feeling of rage. I have this constant anger that makes me want to fight back somehow. But there’s nothing to fight. But I’m so angry at how... how this is so unfair!”

Duncan was shocked. “My god,” he thought, he sounds bad. Hallucinations? Gotta check on what those meds could be doing to him.

Angela came in. “Tom, maybe you need a break; go take a nap. We’ll check with the docs on your dosages tomorrow, okay?”

Tom yawned. “You’re right, Mom, I’m really tired. Still don’t sleep too well.” He went off to his bedroom with Andrew, who was trying to calm Tom down.

Duncan sat down and took Lynette’s hand. “Thanks for watching out for Tom, sweetie. You’ve been his savior several times, you know. If Tom doesn’t mention it, it’s because he’s been so out of it.”

“Oh no, Dad. He thanks me all the time—it’s almost embarrassing. But I like to hear that he thinks I’m helping him.”

“You really are,” Angela agreed. “Say, Tom mentioned a ‘relief session’? Is that what I think it is?”

Lynette made a face. “Yeah. Sex stuff. A boy in the class had an erection—what a big one he had, I never knew they could be that big. Anyway, there was a naked girl in the class too; he asked her to help him and she put it in her mouth and sucked on him, making all kinds of really nasty slurping and glugging and gulping sounds, while the guy was yelling ‘I’m cumming!’ He sprayed his stuff all over her face then and the class was shouting and applauding.”

Lynette describes the classroom fellatio performance she saw

“Good grief,” Angela said. “And Tom?”

“He was curled up in his seat trying to cover his ears, but he looked bright red. He was really, really angry!”

“Yeah, this isn’t good,” Duncan said. “I really need to talk to the doc.”

“How much of that ‘relief’ nonsense goes on in your classes?” Angela persisted.

“Well, almost every class. Girls get fingered to orgasms and a number of times a boy licked the girl down there until she screamed. Oh, one time a girl got another girl to do it to her. And Friday in lunch—there was a crowd around a lunch table so I couldn’t see—I was trying to get Tom away—but two kids were on a table... um... having... intercourse. I could hear their bodies slapping.”

“Oh my god—they allow that too?” Duncan exclaimed.

Lynette shrugged. “No one there to stop them. The thing called ‘reasonable requests’ is worse though. You have to allow kids to touch you so they stick their hands and fingers everywhere, even up girls’ fannies and arseholes.”

“Damn, that’s awful. Say, you’re picking up the Britishisms, aren’t you?” Angela shook her head.

“Mom? I couldn’t do any of that naked stuff, you know. If I got picked, I just couldn’t! You need to figure out how to get Tom out of it and help me too,” Lynette wailed, breaking down.

She grabbed her mother and sobbed on her shoulder. “I... sniff, sob... I... try to stay... sniffle... strong for Tommie... sniff... but it’s so bloody hard...”

Angela looked at Duncan, whose face hardened resolutely. “There must be schools where this abomination isn’t happening, like Andrew’s school. No Program there. Another thing to look into tomorrow,” he vowed.

Andrew returned from Tom’s room. “Dad, you know my school will be starting it next fall, right? I’ll be in uni then, thank god, but I heard that all government schools will have to have it by next school year.”

“I didn’t know that, son. Well, I’ll see what we can do to help Tom.”

~~~~

On Monday morning, Tom felt strong enough to ride his bike to school. He had slept fitfully again and still had an undefinable ‘wound-up’ feeling which didn’t keep his feeling of dread from constantly bubbling to the surface. So the combination of those unpleasant sensations, exhaustion, tension, and dread, was keeping him on edge. Lynette rode with him but the two remained mostly silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

When they were a few blocks from school, Tom spoke tonelessly, “Today they pick random kids.”

Lynette shuddered. “Yeah, I know.”

“Lynnie, what if you...”

“Hush! There are what, maybe 800 kids? Not a good chance I’ll get picked,” she replied.

“Well, I’m just glad they have my P.E. letters that say I can’t be in the showers ‘cause I can’t be naked with others. That will keep me from getting picked, so at least I don’t have to worry about my name coming up,” Tom mused. “But now I’m worried about you.”

“Well, don’t, Thomas Armstrong. And I can take care of myself so I can watch over you, bro.”

They rode their bikes around to the teachers’ parking area, away from the front of the school where the morning stripping shows were conducted and locked up their bikes in the bike rack there. Then they made their way to their home room.

“You did remember to bring in your missed work, right?” Lynette reminded Tom as they entered the classroom.

He looked at her and made a face. “That’s only the fourth time you asked me that this morning, little mama,” he joked.

“Hey, just checking! Last week you were so out of it. Good to see a little sense of humor back, Tommie.”

They sat and waited for the bell as they quietly chatted.

After the bell rang and the teacher did the morning recordkeeping chores, she announced, “It’s Program announcement time. Beginning with this week, the announcement of the selections of the week’s Program students will be done in home room; each teacher has a list of the names of the chosen pupils to read.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room now.

“I guess you’ll be pleased to hear that no one in this home room class is on the list this week.”

There was a huge sigh of relief, followed by cheering and applause.

“I do need to announce this other Program item, however. In the future, when your name is called, take your rucksack or bag to your locker and secure it there; then go to the staff conference room next to the office. That’s where you’ll disrobe on the first day from now on. That ends the Program announcements. Now to our other business...”

The period continued with some additional business matters and then the students were left with the remaining free time to do some quiet work. The bell rang and Tom and Lynette ventured into the hall. There was a knot of kids at one end of the hall, indicating the presence of one or more Program kids, so Lynette steered Tom down another corridor. They reached their next classroom and entered. Tom put his backpack down on the floor next to Lynette’s.

She was about to ask him what he was doing when he whispered to her, “Lynnie, I forgot to tell you—I brought a chocolate bar for you to take to thank you for all the help you’ve been for me—take it out, it’s in the top zipper pocket of my pack. I’ll get the pack after class.”

Then he sat down in his seat as the teacher arrived and motioned Tom to come over to her. He glanced quizzically at Lynette, got up, and went to her desk.

“Dr Taylor gave me a note; it asks for you to go to his office now,” she said. “According to his note, he wants to talk about his conversation with your mother last week.”

She looked over at Tom’s desk; there was no book bag sitting there, on the desk or floor, so she shrugged to herself and thought, Guess I don’t need to tell him to put his stuff in his locker...

Tom looked at her, getting annoyed at the interruption from routine. “What about his conversation with Mom?”

“Tom, I don’t know...”

“What does he want?”

“Go, you’ll find out...”

“Why not just call my mom?” Tom was getting really angry now.

“Okay, Tom, just go. Here’s a hall pass to use.” She handed Tom a card.

Really angry now, he snatched the card from her, and, forgetting his backpack, he stormed out of the room with hardly a backward glance at Lynette, who looked at him with concern.

Thank god I haven’t seen anyone naked, he thought. I’m so damned angry and keyed up I could burst. I almost mouthed off at my teacher.

His rage was bubbling just beneath the surface now, but he attributed that to the general anxiety he was feeling all weekend.

Tom entered the main office and nodded to the two women working there. The office supervisor who had registered him the first day greeted him, saying, “Tom Armstrong, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Dr Taylor will see you now; just go right through that door,” she pointed.

“Okay, thanks.”

Tom opened the door and entered. The head teacher rose from his seat; there were two other people standing in the room. Tom looked at them questioningly.

“Tom, these are two of our P.E. teachers, you might have met Mr Evans and Mr Rogers before. How are you feeling this morning? Last week I heard that you were taking some pills to help you stay calm.”

“Yes sir,” Tom replied. “I’m still very anxious about all that naked stuff and need the pills or else I can’t cope with it at all.”

“I see...” Taylor mused. “You know I spoke to your mum last week and she asked me if I could find a way to help you with your problem about being exposed to nudity in the Program here at school. I believe we’ve found a way to help.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” Tom said, but the blackness hovering just out of his view seemed to have begun growing. He shivered at the sensation of increased dread.

“Right. And that’s why I called you here now. I think we have a way to help you with getting used to the Naked in School Program.”

“Um... used to it...? How can you help?” Tom asked uncertainly, feeling a chill starting to envelop him.

Dr Taylor smiled. “Like this, Tom, I discussed with the school’s counselor and with the Program coordinator about how you reacted Monday last when you were in assembly where we began the Naked in School Program. We’re convinced that the Program can help you overcome your nudity problem; that’s actually what the Program’s designed for, isn’t it. We believe that your being in the Program can help you because of how you reacted. But because of your past experiences, we’re giving you some privacy to begin your participating, making it easier for you to get used to being naked, and that’s why we called you here separately from the other Program pupils. So let’s begin your week’s participation in the Program now. Please remove all your clothes; here’s a box and...”

Dr Taylor didn’t get any further in his comments. As he was speaking, he had been watching Tom’s face, which had begun to go pale when he mentioned ‘the Naked in School Program,’ and just now, at ‘remove all your clothes,’ had frozen into a rictus of panic; the boy’s face had lost all its color and had become an ugly mask of terror.

“NO!” Tom gasped. “NO!” He half-turned toward the door but his body went rigid.

Taylor motioned to one of the P.E. teachers. “Mr Roberts, help him undress.”

A girdle of steel was now tightening itself around Tom’s chest, it felt to him like that nature program which showed an anaconda crushing its prey; he was the snake’s prey now. He suddenly felt like he did that day at the pool when he was eight years old; the blackness was enveloping him; the water was closing over his head; he was drowning; it was all happening again; he was going to die!

Roberts reached out to hold onto Tom, who, trying to shake off his paralysis, was doing all he could to remain aware of his surroundings and not succumb to the blackness of death which seemed to be enveloping him. Then Mr Evans came up to him and, taking hold of his school blazer sleeve, began pulling it off his shoulder. Suddenly Tom was galvanized into awareness and he stiffened.

“NO! I have to stop them! They’re death!” shouted his mind.

Tom twisted and pushed his body out against Evans with all his strength, and the unexpected violent shove hurled the man away from him. Evans, thrown off balance by the shove, staggered backward toward Taylor’s desk; the back of his legs slammed against the desk and, falling backward onto its top, he slid over to its other side and fell onto the floor, carrying with him the desk’s contents.

Tom was fighting for his life now. He felt like he was drowning. Only his clothes could keep him alive! They were taking his clothes away and he was going to die! Roberts was still holding onto him; the man was stocky and well-built, but Tom, strong and well-built himself, was in an adrenalin-fueled panic now. With all the strength of his legs, grown powerful by Tom’s cycling, weight-lifting, and running, he drove himself backward against the man and the two of them crashed into a bookcase standing against the wall, Roberts taking the brunt of the force of the collision. He yelled in pain at the sudden impact on his back and let go of Tom, staggering away and trying to recover his balance.

Then Tom turned, grabbed the back of the bookcase and yanked on it hard, pulling it over. It toppled over, falling on top of Roberts, who shouted in shock as its contents spilled onto him. Meanwhile, Evans had risen from the floor and was coming around the desk while Taylor stood with his phone in his hand, his mouth gaping in disbelief at the melee in front of him.

“Grab him, Evans, but don’t hurt him!” he shouted.

Tom felt like his world was ending—Evans was moving to block his escape route from the office. Tom had to get out! That chair—a chair had slid over toward him when he pulled down the bookcase. He grabbed the chair and flung it at the threat rushing toward him. Occupied with his attempt to protect himself from the chair thrown at him, Evans couldn’t stop Tom from reaching the door to the outer office, hauling it open, and rushing out. Several seconds later, the three adults in the room emerged from Taylor’s office to see Tom rounding the counter in the outer office, heading for the main office door, only to stop as the school’s security guard came rushing in. The head teacher had called him while Tom was fighting for his life in Taylor’s office.

Tom backed up warily as the guard entered and began to move toward him. Tom looked around wildly. Three, no four threatening shapes loomed around him. Like zombies! Faceless figures of death wanting to suck him down into the black depths of the water!

I don’t wanna die! his mind wailed.

The woman who had greeted Tom when he first entered the office had been seated at her desk when Tom came flying out of Taylor’s office, but she rose in alarm from her chair as Tom ran around her desk behind her. She screamed and fled as Tom reached down, seized hold of her desk, heaved it up, and overturned it into the path of the oncoming guard, who jumped away, tripped over a chair, and fell. The computer, keyboard, and screen—all of the contents of the desktop—went flying, as the other woman in the office shouted in fright and ran to the room’s far corner.

Tom looked around in his panicked haze. A row of file cabinets stood in the middle of the room, topped with various shelves, trays, and other objects. The two teachers had started coming in his direction again. Ducking behind one file cabinet, Tom pushed it over and it fell into the teachers’ path, causing them to jump aside as the objects on top scattered and the drawers flew open and disgorged their contents all over the floor and against their legs. Then, picking up whatever objects came to hand, Tom began slinging them at the teachers, who had to duck and dodge to keep from being hit. One teacher edged closed to Tom, only to be stopped when Tom toppled another file cabinet into his path. The cabinet fell onto some shelf dividers that had landed on the floor and split open, its drawers flying open and spewing their contents in all directions.

Tom had to escape! His path to the main door was still blocked but... yes, the window! He dashed over toward the window. The guard had recovered and was starting toward Tom again. Tom grabbed a computer monitor from a nearby desk, tearing its cables loose, and hurled it at the guard, hitting him in the chest. Then he heaved up the desk’s chair and threw it with all his strength at the nearby window.

With a tremendous crash, the heavy chair flew through the window, leaving a gaping hole in its wake, and then falling outside to the ground five feet below. Seeing one of the teachers trying to work his way toward him through all the debris on the office floor, Tom grabbed a few additional items and slung them in the man’s direction and then turned, hoisted himself onto the table standing under the window, kicked away some shards of broken glass remaining in the window frame, and slid through the opening, dropping the few feet to the ground.

Escape! He was away from the danger. But no, the snake wrapped around his chest was still squeezing him, crushing him, so he knew he was still in danger. Go home! The voice whispered in his head. It’s safe at home. Mom’s there. Realizing that the key to his bike was in the backpack he had left with his sister, Tom began running. Home. Safety! his mind urged.

Running home and taking deep breaths as he ran, managed to slowly relax the crushing pressure in his chest, so by the time he had run two miles, he began to think clearly again. He realized what he had done, almost totally trashing the school office.

I’m gonna be in such deep, deep shit, he thought. I hope Mom’s home. Don’t even have my keys if she’s not. Crap. My phone’s in my pack too.

Fortunately she was home and was just getting off the phone when he came pounding at the door.

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