A Scout’s Honor Part 1
“Are you saying you watched internet p-rn?!” Grace asked in shock.
“I think so. The girl wasn't naked, so it's not p-rn, right?” Fiona replied sheepishly.
“Let's drop this,” I suggested, “And don't do it again.”
“Joyce is right. Don't ever do that again! That's unhealthy!”
“It was months ago,” Fiona blushed, “It was embarrassing saying it in confession.”
“Then let's forget it and move on as a silly mistake!” I encouraged my friend.
To explain, Fiona, Grace, and I were among the many scouts from the same church as this Girl Scout Troop was partially founded by a large contingent from there but open to all. Those of us from the church therefore shared church, scouts, and school alike, but we never hampered girls like Ruth-Ann, my most recent new friend, who were of different creeds in any regard. We just happened to have a slanted demographic.
Grace was the girl that stood out in our walking trio. She was 15, 5’6” tall, and had a red bandana kerchief holding her hair back. She had brown hair, a pretty, dark color, and hazel eyes that sparkled with a positive spirit. Grace was what is best termed the “good girl.” Despite a German surname, she had a decent tan from a lifetime in the Florida sun.
We all had scout uniforms, and to my left was a girl taller than me only by virtue of being a year older than me. Fiona was chestnut-haired, blue-eyed, and pale, as her Polish surname suggested, and built like an absolute stick in stark contrast to my average size (but Italian grandma strength) or Grace’s natural thick bones.
I was a hybrid of them. My hair was dark blonde, or brown at one angle and blonde at another, and my eyes were a lovely brown. Like I said, I have an average build but an Italian grandma’s strength like the Verdi ending of Joyce Verdi indicated. I didn't play in the kitchen too much except that I loved doing any kneading and rolling my mother needed done.
We all had the girl scout uniforms. Khaki shorts and button-up shirts were matched by a typically orange large bandana we almost all usually wore as neckerchiefs. Grace’s usual use of it as a kerchief was instead replaced by the red bandana, and I suspected it had to do with the recent introduction of rope games to our troop. Our troop had at least one outing per month in addition to at least one day trip. To my parents, it was a way for me to spend time with other girls my age, learn, and have fun, and I was ever so grateful for that.
There were problems in the troop though. I had resolved my conflicts with Ruth-Ann, a typical red-haired Irish girl with freckles. Our love-hate relationship had settled into a friendship since the last trip and benefited from us being the same age and size. The last outing saw Ruth-Ann and two other girls, Becky and Hallie, abandon me deep in the forest after tying and gagging me. I showed them up and offered peace; Ruth-Ann had apologized, but the others hadn't and avoided me like the plague since then.
Rope had become an important part of our troop from the last outing. Human subjects worked great for practicing different techniques and skills, and as long as no one was getting hurt we older girls were allowed to keep at it even though it wasn't encouraged or discouraged. Yes, we bound and gagged each other under the guise of “practicing knots.”
“Making a serious note of it, was it as fun as you hoped?” I asked Fiona.
“Things were so tense,” she grimaced, “I didn't have as much fun as I could have.”
“Things will be better this time,” Grace smiled, “We'll be able to enjoy ourselves!”
“Hey! Girls!” we heard Ruth-Ann’s voice calling out to us from camp.
“What is it?” Grace called back from our perimeter walk.
“It's dessert time!”
Not that I could usually enjoy dessert time because of my diabetes. Little ketchup on a hotdog, or none at all even. No s’mores. No maple syrup on pancakes. It could be a hassle for the people around me especially since I had to monitor my blood sugar and get my injection based on what the machine said.
Grace, Ruth-Ann, and I were sharing a tent tonight, to my relief. After our last outing, it was decided to group based on protecting me from my enemies instead of by age, lest Hallie attempt any form of revenge. There was not liking someone, but Hallie genuinely hated my guts.
Hallie was a big girl, bigger than Grace, and she had long blonde hair. Well, all of us girls had long hair except me, Ruth-Ann, and Fiona; we had it close to shoulder length or just past the shoulders. Hallie's size and strength allowed her to take down any one of us at will. She wouldn't look at me.
Becky was a short thing from the west coast. Her brunette hair was straight as an arrow; rumor was that she was part Shoshone Indian. If she were a Shoshone, her body didn't show it; then again, I wouldn't know a Shoshone if I met one! Her eyes were an unusually pretty green. Her innocent face hid the coward inside of her.
They made a perfect pair of rats. The big girl was offensive, and the short girl was cowardly. I saw a respectable person inside the short one, but she was too cowardly to let herself bloom. The bigger girl, on the other hand, had been too much trouble already, and I could do anything scout related with her as long as we didn’t talk beyond what was absolutely essential. I prayed that one or both would change, but I wasn’t holding my breath either.
Something meant more than badges to a good scout: honor. This had been instilled in us from our first days here. We had to pass a quick oral exam on this before we were allowed to take our oaths. That’s what this tale is really about: how one scout proved she had no honor and how one discovered that being honorable meant more to her than being a winner.
“Imagine a sniper is lurking outside the camp,” I said as I sat down, “He has one bullet. He must kill one of us. Who’s the dead one?”
“Grace,” Isabella responded without a thought.
“Grace?! Wouldn’t it be Mrs. Pulaski?” Fiona asked in surprise.
“No, Isabella’s right,” I turned to Fiona.
“They’d see this firecracker from a mile away,” Isabella giggled.
“Becky, you and Fiona could join me and make it a trio of girls for him to aim at.”
“They can pull it off unlike me!” I laughed at this; Grace wouldn’t die alone if she could help it.
“Tomorrow, Grace, tomorrow. I promise,” Fiona laughed as well.
Grace smiled and leaned back to howl in laughter. No one could take a joke better than she and Isabella. There must be a joke in our group including girls named Grace, Hallie, Isabella, Joyce, Karen (Mrs. Pulaski), and Lexi. At minimum, we represented the alphabet well; Jessica doubled that J for good measure.
Jessica and Lexi didn’t get into the rope games like the rest of us, but there were games they still found fun that weren’t TUGs. They’d participate in tying up a person for practicing tying logs, but a few of us, namely Fiona, Grace, Isabella, Ruth-Ann, and me, enjoyed the TUGs enough to play on our own.
“Yeah, get yourselves each a bandana,” Hallie feigned a smile, “And gag yourselves.”
“Hey!” Isabella snapped, “I’d say you should start first!”
“I know not to talk all night long unlike you cackling hens. Blah blah blah!”
“Sometimes I want to give you a black eye!” my friend was losing her temper.
“Girls!” Mrs. Pulaski stopped them, “Apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” Isabella blushed.
“I’m sorry,” Hallie lied, “We’ll talk later.”
The important thing was that we were scouts, and we had honor. That meant we played within a set of rules by which we all agreed to abide. Some rules were common sense, like not leaving a gagged person without someone to watch them. Others were just plain reasonable, like limits on the types of gag allowed. A few were personal, like not stuffing dirty socks in my mouth since I couldn’t stomach them too well, although I didn’t barf unlike Isabella.
Mom was Daddy’s second wife, so my older siblings were so much older that I had a niece who was a member of a different scout troop and older than me. Thus, these girls were like sisters to me, and I really cherished them. Everyone loved gathering at my home because of the cookies my mom made. In fact, upon this occasion, Mom sent me off with some regular chocolate chip cookies for the troop and diabetic friendly ones for me. They’d have to wait for lunch because we had plenty for now; nothing beats fire-melted s’mores even in a forest near Ocala, Florida.
Isabella was the girl who got picked on the most in school; after me, she got picked on the most. I got it the worst because I had the best grades in every class I took. I didn’t even boast of it; the other kids just would find out by word of mouth from the one or two souls who’d ask me how I’d done on the assignment. Then I’d get called “Nerdi” because I wore glasses. Isabella had classic Coke bottles on her glasses because she had a lazy eye. Isabella was the third-generation from a family of Cuban immigrants, and she had jet black hair and a slight tan to accompany her height, which was just a little taller than me. She had a heart in the right place although it got the best of her at times.
Isabella and Fiona had a question to ask of Mmes. Hughes and Pulaski before we went to bed for the night. Ruth-Ann and I helped Jessica put out the fire while Lexi, Becky, Hallie, and Grace went to the tents for the night. I wished I had paid more attention to what was going on around me, but Ruth-Ann and I were talking to Jess. Jess was a nice and, as a good scout, honorable girl. She was homeschooled; we did not get to see her as much. I had the best friends, really. Isabella had a big heart; Grace was the fun one; Fiona was the sneaky one; Ruth-Ann was sweet; I was practical. We brought out the best in each other once Ruth-Ann and I learned how to settle our differences maturely.
“Ruth, I need you for something,” Becky said as she exited my tent, “Come on.”
“Oh, all right,” Ruth-Ann looked at me and rolled her eyes, “I’ll help you.”
“No problem,” I brushed it off as they entered the other tent.
“See you soon,” Becky’s tone was foreboding.
Weirdo, I thought as I approached my tent.
From the distance, in the darkness, I could see the bright red kerchief of Grace in the door of the tent. She was still and lying down, and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep just from exhaustion. I entered the tent and was grabbed in a brutal grip. A strong hand clamped over my mouth to gag me, and I now realized that Grace was tightly bound and gagged.
“Behave yourself!” Hallie's voice snarled in my ear, “Payback's a b-tch!”
“Mmmm!” and into my mouth went Hallie's dirty socks.
TO BE CONTINUED
