Say No To Blondes

Dexter Wellington III carefully combed his curly red hair, checked his eyebrows which framed his father’s deep set blue eyes, and adjusted his school tie in the mirror of his fourth floor dorm room. He checked his watch. He had exactly fifteen minutes to get to his first class.

He glanced out the window at the gated grounds. Snow was falling heavily. Good.That meant no running the track today. He checked the courts. No tennis either. This place, once a railroad tycoon’s weekend farm, had once had everything. Now, it was a prison for problem mid-teens who’s parents would do anything to keep their kids out of Juvenile Hall. And keep their own family reputations intact.He’d been sent here because of a girl. A damn blonde of all things..

He checked his watch.Fourteen minutes til class started, and he couldn’t be late. His record couldn’t take another tardy tick. He’d already reached that max for the semester at Professor Humblebee’s School for the Wayward Child, or as some called it, “Juvie-Lite.” Another ding and he could be sent back to the Real Juvie. He couldn’t even imagine that.

But, while Humblebee’s Institute was housed in luxury, it wasn’t perfect. It was completely isolated from the outside world. Sure, there was TV, but it was limited and monitored. The residents were being punished, after all. Sometimes he thought he’d give anything to have a day on the outside. An afternoon at the movies. A soda with other fifteen year olds…

Dexter realized that the alternative could have, would have, should have been a lot worse. For the things he’d done, had he been a few years older, it would’ve been prison time for sure. Things like grand theft auto, kidnapping, crossing state lines with a minor… Heavy prison time.

But he’d been lucky.Somehow, his dad had pulled some strings, called in some favors, and here he was. This place wasn’t so bad. It housed a hundred rowdy kids. Troubled kids of prominent people. Kids who ran the gamut of dumber than dirt to out and out genius.

So yes, Dexter knew that he was one of the lucky ones. For that he was grateful. Besides which, he was learning a lot from the other inmates. He was a fast learner. In three months he’d become a crack blackjack, poker and chess player. He’d learned to count cards. He’d perfected his hacking gene. Money would never be a problem for him again.

If he was so smart, why had he been so stupid. He’d let his girlfriend Charlene talk him into driving her to Hollywood. He’d borrowed one of his dad’s ex-wives cars and gone for a joy ride. Well, a three thousand mile joyride. They’d caught Dexter just outside Los Angeles.

It didn’t matter that his girlfriend, the one who’d wanted to be a movie star, had talked him into it.They were still charging him with all that stuff, plus driving without a license, resisting arrest and a couple of other things that the over-eager cops had tacked on.

“You’ve never been an actress, Char,” he’d said.

“I was Belle in the Sophomore Play,” she reminded him. “And I’m damn gorgeous.” She flicked her long blonde hair and pouted her lips.

He was putty in her hands.Hell, Dexter was putty in any girl’s hands. That was his downfall. His father’s downfall too, oh he of five ex-wives.

But of course, it had all gone South on Dexter. He’d been hauled back home to DC, Charlene had disappeared into some back alley, the ex-ex step-mom had screeched like a banshee. She wanted to get Dexter into “Juvie or Someplace where they can control his ass,” and poor Dexter had ended up at Humblebees for two years. Probably for good.

If he had to put himself in one of the dumb to smart bell curves, he’d be off the charts in the dumb side when it came to girls. Especially blondes. He’d resolved to avoid all women until he was forty.

Ten minutes to go. As he ran down the first floor halls, his cell vibrated against his thigh. Cell phones were forbidden at Humblebees. He ducked into an unlocked office to check it out, ignoring the brass plaque on the door that announced that he was entering the head guy’s domain.

WTF? It was Charlene.

Was goin’ on? Dexter typed.

ICYMI I’ve got a part!

IDC. IDGAF!

STFU she replied.

“I’m stuck here in Juvie-Lyte because of you, girl. IDGAF if you become the next Marilyn. You rained my life.” Damn spell-check.

Dexter shook his head.This was the sum total of his relationship with that girl. He hadn’t heard from her in weeks, and now all he got was this nonsense.

That’s when he heard the moans. He’d jumped into an open doorway to hide his cell, and now he’d stumbled into something.Something weird.

Dexter knew he’d regret it, but he crept across the darkened room towards the inner office where the sounds were coming from. He fumbled for the door knob. Found it, pushed it open. Found the wall switch. The light exploded like fireworks on a bloody scene that hit him like a bomb, made him dizzy.He fought back the nausea.

Professor Humblebee’s body lay across a desk like an avant-garde’ paperweight. If a human paperweight had a letter opener stuck out of his back. Blood splatter was everywhere.

Across the room, a naked girl writhed and moaned on the floor. Dexter recognized her from English class. She was one of the new students. Another “Juvie candidate.”

Dexter wrapped his hand in a pocket scarf he pulled from Professor Humblebees jacket and punched 9-911 into the desk phone. In a high pitched voice and Spanish accent he gave the 911 operator directions. He held the phone out towards where the blood splattered girl was moaning at high intensity now. That should get some help out here quickly.

He wanted to just yell at the girl and say “Help’s on the way,” or something like they did in the movies, and then leap out into the hall, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave a girl in distress.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her.

“No, just shaken up.”

He helped her stand, avoiding the blood. He grabbed a beige raincoat from a wall rack and wrapped it around her shivering frame. He unlocked a French door that lead out into the garden which was shrouded in snow.

“Let’s go,” he said to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Stephanie,” she said, pulling her long blonde hair back away from her face.

Darn it, he was helping another blonde…

“What was going on there?”

“He was trying to attack me, and someone stepped in and stabbed him with that sharp letter thing.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“No, they wore a red parka with a hood and a ski mask.”

“Look like a man or a woman?”

Stephanie shook her head.“The person was tall, thin, and wiry.That’s all I know.”

Dexter thought about how he’d seen Professor Humblebee’s tall thin Assistant Nancy running through the hallway away from the office. He’d nearly run head-on into her. She was wearing a hooded red parka, but she’d pulled the ski mask down around her neck.

She didn’t look happy.Dexter had attributed it to having to drive in the snowstorm. He looked at Stephanie. Damn it.He was rescuing another damn blonde.What was wrong with him.

He walked Stephanie quickly through the garden fog to the back door of the dormitory.

“What’re you in for?” he asked her.

“Oh, some shoplifting, some pickpocketing,” she said shyly. “Some card sharking. Lockpicking.”

My kind of girl. Wow.

“OK, don’t talk to anyone. Go to your room and clean up. Go to classes like normal. I’m in Room 302 if you want to talk. I can’t be late for class or I’ll look suspicious…sorry!” he said as he ran towards his classroom.

One minute to go.He’d make it if he didn’t fall.Hell, he just might make it through this if he didn’t screw up.

Tardy students wouldn’t be Professor Humblebee’s concern any time soon. The school might be in trouble. He should call his dad.

Dexter reached for his phone. Missing.His wallet. Missing. His watch.Missing.

Teach him to rescue another damn blonde.