"Put it on ice?"

   "Like it's a lightswitch." 

  "But 

  "But I'm in love 

  "With him?" 

  "Who else? 'Fess up." 

  Slowly but surely eight girls revealed nine-tenths of "their problem."

  Robert Rhonda stsred at his toes in flip flops from a bag of stuff someone had left on the hood of his car.  "I really can't remember if I am." 

  "I hope so." 

  "This sucks." 

  The fan blowing over lunchbox ice packs wasn't making more air. 

  "I gotta go to work." 

  "We took those promise vows at Church." 

  "Mine chose to go back to Israel." 

  "One of mine is headed to training first." 

  "Hers 

  "You don't have to speak for me 

  "Was mine." 

  "Seriously?!  And we wonder why we get called

  "HEY!

  "What? 

  "Let's not fight." 

  Out of the sounds of crayons and markers coloring the conversations started and stopped.

  In some ways it was like being at Ground Zero in an impact zone, some tensions happening in slow motion, some emotions happening fast.  A layer of everything stayed "normal" but as a group of carefree people....well, awkward angles and a sudden strangeness.  What rippled out was like something in nature....something like when Spring happens and romance dominates. 

  So in the movie script....

  "Hey, where's the third quarter section?" 

  "Oh.  Didn't I tell you the boys raided the art supplies?" 

  Shock

  "Um.  Maybe it was in there."

  "Maybe?!!"

  The unicorn took a step backwatds. 

  "Good thing I put the rest of the writing in the file cabinet." 

  Yeah.  I guess so.  I told you about the art supply raid like two days ago." 

  "You did?  Was that the day before yesterday?" 

  "Typically." 

  "I should've slept." 

  "Who am I to judge you on that?" 

  "But we got a lot done." 

  "Did I mention

  "You should've seen Mr. NuLima trying to stay one step ahead of Mrs. NuLima.  She's having a hurricane baby!"

  "Oh, she is?" 

  "That a woman came and got the file cabinet?!" 

  "She got a baby.  Hurricane took away everything.  But she got a baby?" 

  "THE file cabinet?" 

  "Holy shit." 

  "What was 

  "A baby.  Did they find it in the storm?" 

  "They found something alright.  How old are you hon?" 

  "Started with an "R" but not Reba.  Ralphina.  Or Ruth.  No."

  A ziplock bag of muddy, wet, mulchy forms was where the file cabinet had been.

  Outside across the road in a field untrampled people were pitching tents and waving picket signs.  A leader called out through hands formed into a megaphone.  The chanting started:

  Down with Judy!  Down with Judy! 

  "Who's Judy?" A middle aged man in recycled rubber sandals asked. 

  "She's the dictator.  In control of the ice cream." 

  "And whose are these?" 

  "Professor Donaghon's." 

  "How long?" 

  "Should've been the weekend but we can't get on to Kentucky just now." 

  A woman in shorts and a fishing shirt joined the people in the road.  "Ah, Professor Donaghon.  Are some of your students in RVs?" 

  "Not sure but I'll find out." 

  She walked over to the lead RV with it's front half buried up to the bumper in mud.  "Must be a sinkhole," a woman called over her shoulder as she kept re-righting knocked-over stuff in the small space.  "It's the edge of the leechfield," Everybody's Dad coughed and said.  "We can't have people parking here." 

  "We're not.  Somebody told us there's a FEMA court out this way and I got stuck." 

  "What's that?" 

  "Deadline came and went." 

  "Shit, it did?" 

  "Yesiree son." 

  "I guess some places got designated like little "courtyards" for RV's." 

  "Not here." 

  "We've got help on the way Sir."