'Hardin didn't say "fuck". Not Hardin.'

'Did, too.'

'I always knew she was a fraud,' Finley said. 'Nobody can be as uptight as she puts on.'

'She called that gal a bitch, too.'

'Wonder who it was,' Cora said.

'Wonder what Hardin did to her,' Finley said. 'Pretty weird, bringing someone up here at night.'

'Maybe it was her girlfriend,' Helen suggested.

'Yeah, brought her up here to mess around.'

'Come on,' Abilene said. 'She has a house or apartment or something. Why would she bring anyone here? Probably just some poor slob she caught chewing gum.'

'Pour some more,' Cora said.

Finley refilled the glasses. With ice, a lot of tequila, and a dab of lemonade.

Already, Abilene's cheeks were feeling a trifle numb. 'We're gonna get juiced,' she warned.

'That's the point, Hickok.'

'Hickok?' Abilene asked.

'You know, Wild Bill. James Butler. The guy that cleaned up Abilene.'

'He didn't clean up me.'

'You sure know your history,' Vivian said, grinning crookedly at Finley.

'I'm a whizz kid.'

'Speaking of whizz,' Helen said, 'Hardin didn't have any paper in her stall.'

'I figured she was gonna come over to mine,' Abilene said, 'and that'd be it. But she didn't. She didn't wipe.'

'You lie.'

'Or flush,' Helen added.

'Or wash her hands.'

'A real hog.'

'A bitch,' Finley said. 'Maybe she licked herself clean.'

'Disgusting!' Vivian blurted.

'And she wants us to be proper young ladies,' Cora said.

'Which we are,' Finley said. She reached into one of the bags and lifted out a stack of magazines. She passed some of them around.

Abilene set down her drink and leafed through the magazine Finley had given her. Its pages featured photographs of naked men. They had oiled, shiny skin. They had bulging muscles. They had big penises.

Helen stepped closer and looked. 'Wow,' she said. 'Wanta trade?'

Helen's magazine showed women posing with their legs spread wide. They were licking their lips, caressing themselves. Many of them had no pubic hair. One had a fingertip buried in her vagina. Some of the photos showed two or three women together, biting and squeezing and licking each other.

'Raunchy stuff,' Vivian commented.

'Terrific,' said Cora. 'Look at the schlong on this guy.' She turned her magazine around and showed them a full-page picture.

'I wouldn't let him near me with a ten-foot pole,' Abilene said.

'That is a ten-foot pole,' Finley remarked, laughing. Then she dug into the sack and pulled out some rolls of tape. 'Enough ogling the bods,' she said. 'Let's get to work.'

They filled their glasses again. Laughing, sipping, sharing their discoveries of particularly outlandish photos, making return trips to the desk for chips and refills, they spent the next twenty minutes tearing pages from the magazines and taping them all over Hardin's office. They taped pictures to the sides of the desk, to the chairs, to the door and walls and filing cabinets and bookshelves, to the window blinds. Cora, standing atop the desk, even papered a portion of the ceiling.

'I thing thas enough,' Vivian finally said. She tossed the tattered remains of a magazine onto the desk and turned around slowly, admiring their work.

Turning around did it.

Her face went ashen and slack. She staggered backward, waving her arms. 'Oh my God,' she muttered. Her rump hit the floor. Groaning, she lay down. 'Spinning,' she said.

Helen crouched beside her. 'Are you...?'

'Oh my Gah...' Vivian flipped over, thrust herself to her hands and knees, and vomited.

'Gross out!' Finley called, and rushed for her camera.

Before she could lift it off the desk, Cora grabbed it. 'Leave her in peace.'

Vivian finished, and crawled away from the mess she'd made on the carpet.

Abilene patted her back. 'Are you okay?'

She moaned.

'We'd better get out of here.' Abilene and Helen helped the girl to her feet. 'Can you walk?'

'Yeah, yeah. I'm ogay.'

'Let's go.'

They waited for Cora to finish writing something on a sheet of letterhead she'd taken from Hardin's desk.

Then they followed her into the secretary's office, turning off Hardin's lights and closing her door. Leaving behind the grocery sacks, empty glasses and bottles and chip bags, a swollen plastic bag of melting ice cubes, tom magazines, the vast photo gallery of naked men and women, and a puddle of vomit.

To the outside of Hardin's door, Cora taped the note. Abilene lit it with her flashlight. In bold printing, it read, KEEP OUT. THIS MEANS EYERYONE, CUSTODIANS INCLUDED. I WILL NOT HAVE MY SANCTUARY VIOLATED. Scribbled beneath the message was: M. Hardin, Dean of Women.

'Give me that,' Cora said.

Abilene handed the flashlight to her. 'What are you doing?'

'You'll see.' She stepped behind the secretary's desk. She shone the bright beam on the Rolodex. Flipped through the cards. 'Here we are.'

She picked up the phone and tapped in a series of numbers. 'Oh my God,' Vivian mumbled.

'You're not!' Abilene gasped.

Finley started to laugh.

Helen groaned.

'Hello?' Cora said into the phone. Making her voice low and husky. 'Never mind who this is, you tight-ass bitch. I'm calling, to give you a friendly warning. Stop eatin' all that fuckin' chili. The more you eat, the more you toot. Bye-bye for now.'

They were on their way downstairs when a door clamored.

Abilene's stomach dropped. Her heart thundered. Vivian clung to her, and she could feel the girl shaking.

They all stood motionless.

Heard footsteps, men talking loudly in Spanish.

Slowly, the sounds faded.

Abilene let out her breath.

Cora crept down the rest of the stairs and peeked into the corridor. The others waited. At last, she waved them to follow.

She held the door open for them and eased it silently shut when they were out.

All the way to the sidewalk at the border of the campus, Abilene glanced around, terrified of being spotted. But she saw no one.

'We dood it,' Finley said.

Afterward, they spent a lot of time laughing about their adventure. And more time worrying. Abilene half expected Hardin to order the entire student body fingerprinted.

But it never happened.

Word never leaked out about what had happened to Hardin's office.

At first, they wondered if die custodians had entered the office in spite of the note. Maybe they couldn't read English. Maybe they simply ignored the message, entered, and cleaned up everything.

But the next afternoon, they saw Hardin in the student union. She sat alone at a table, sipping coffee, glaring at everyone, studying faces.

While she was busy eyeing a trio of laughing jocks, Finley taped her.

'I bet she thinks guys did it,' Helen whispered.

'Thinks gals wouldn't have the nerve,' Cora said.

'What a sexist,' Vivian said.

Still glowering at the boys, Hardin lifted a hand. With her thumb and forefinger, she stroked her thin lower lip.

Abilene grinned. 'I wonder when was the last time she washed her hands.'

CHAPTER TEN.

It was Abilene's idea that they move the Wagoneer to the side of the lodge, where it would be out of sight in case anyone should drive up from the road. Cops, teenagers looking for a place to make out, anyone might come along. It just wouldn't be smart to give away their presence by leaving the car out front. The others agreed. But Cora suggested they unload it first.

'I don't think we should,' Abilene said. 'Why don't we leave everything in the car - use it like a base camp?'

'That's a lot of trouble,' Cora said.

'What if we have to make a quick getaway?'

'You worry too much.'

'We've already had one visitor,' Vivian said.

'If we need to take off fast,' Abilene continued, 'we don't want to be messing around with our luggage.'

'Or leaving it behind,' Vivian said.

'Why don't we keep the car packed and ready to roll? Just take in whatever we really need.'

'Makes sense to me,' Finley said.

'So what do we do,' Cora asked, 'troop back and forth to the car every time we want to change clothes?'

'That's the general idea.'

'Sheesh.' She picked up her bundle of clothes.

After stowing the ice chest and the box of drinks and snacks in the rear of the Wagoneer, they all climbed in. Helen drove to the north end of the lodge. There, the lane of cracked concrete slanted downward.