Katrina hated the South Hall restroom. They had janitors at this school, right? Were they not allowed to go in here? Maybe this place always had to smell like smoke and look as if a localized tornado had blown through all the girl's stalls. That must be it. It was a feature not a flaw.

Trying to scrub the oil off her hands, Katrina jumped as the bathroom door opened. Auto-shop was her last class of the day. The caffeine she'd poured into her system at lunch had begun to fade. Filthy, flustered, and running on fumes, Katrina let out a small yelp as the four upperclassmen piled into the bathroom laughing. Once all parties shared glances with one another, everything snapped to silence.

"You look real familiar," the tallest of the four girls claimed. Dressed out in the waterpolo Blue and Grey swimming singlet, the muscular girl walked behind Katrina to the open sink beside her. "What's your name, freshman?"

Katrina swallowed and turned to leave, but the three other swimmers blocked her path. Rolling her shoulders back, she subtly backed up toward the row of stalls; "Kat, and I'm a sophomore. If you'll excuse me."

The tall girl laughed, "Oh, a sophomore? You're supposed to be a sophomore girl, right?"

Not typically self conscious about her more androgynous wardrobe, Katrina suddenly felt the need to contract, not take up so much space. She reached behind her, feeling for the door of what would hopefully be an impenetrable bathroom stall.

Stepping in closer, the Tall Girl loomed over Katrina, "You got a last name, Kat?"

As she gripped the filthy latch, Katrina said flatly, "Nope."

Without any chance of escape, Kat felt the wide hands of the Tall Girl and her closest associate grip her shoulders. With a grim sneer, the Tall Girl continued her interrogation, "That's weird, cause you a lot like Katrina Woods. You know her? She's got that sister who wrote that article about our Coach?"

Mentally flipping through her options while her chest tightened, Kat relented, "What of it?"

With a hearty shove, the Tall Girl shoved Katrina back against the door of the stall; "What about our team missing out on a winning season? What about our chances of going to the Nationals? What about our scholarships and future you little shit?" The Tall Girl's fist sank into Kat's stomach.

A winning season? Scholarships? Katrina felt her heart race as she looked into the eyes of four exceptionally strong, tall, and angry sociopaths. Swallowing hard, Katrina mistakenly tried a counter argument, "How about the seventeen girls who testified to his abuse?"

Something glimmered in the Tall Girl's wide dark eyes; "Maybe they just wanted the attention, like your lying little sister."

In the week since The SantaFe New Mexican published the article, the local NPR affiliate KANW had picked up the story. On the Thursday before the team was scheduled to drive down to Albuquerque for the State Finals, the local New Mexico ABC news ran their piece in primetime. Robyn's involvement was mentioned all of five seconds out of the twelve minute segment. Five seconds was long enough to instantaneously become the school pariah. Clearly there was a trickle down effect being related to the girl who ruined Trigon High's chances of earning another trophy in 'Not Drowning the Fastest.'

As the older class-men tightened their grip on Katrina, a sudden giggle fit burst out from her mouth. It was a common defense when met with imminent pain, "Funny how so few people acknowledged the man accused of abusing multiple minors as the reason the swim team isn't doing so hot right now."

Katrina felt the flesh and muscles and bones in her back all crunch against the metal bathroom stall door as the Tall Girl slammed her backwards again.

Baring her teeth, the Tall Girl growled, "You're family has ruined my future. They ruined a whole bunch of our futures."

Their grip was strong, their nails were sharp, and despite the pain Katrina had the razor wit to match. Clenching her teeth, she snapped back, "So you're angry that my sister may be telling the truth, or that your Coach might be a rapist?"

One of the other girls, equally imposing but with a rounder face and dark blue eyes, spoke up, "You think you've seen anger? I had to tell my dad I lost my shot at a scholarship cause some freshman accused our coach of bein' a creep. You have any idea how pissed he was? Like it was all my fault?!"

Katrina nodded as the steady pressure against the door continued to increase along with the pain; "Yeah," She nodded, "I'm starting to get the idea."

"No," spoke the tall girl, a sinister smile parting her lips, "You don't have a clue what it's like to be where we're at now. It's your lucky day though. We're gonna give you the privilege of being an honorary water polo player. Isn't that right girls?"

A sharp buzzing sound suddenly erupted from somewhere behind the Blue Eyed girl's back. With another abrupt shove, the bathroom stall flew open. A half dozen hands were now pressing against her, pushing her up against the wall. The electric buzzing grew louder. It got closer. Through the tangled mess of muscular arms pinning Katrina to the disgusting bathroom wall, she saw the electric razor inch ever closer to her head.

There was no point in struggling. Katrina's whole body went slack as the other girls continued to restrain, shave and curse her. After what felt like hours, she was released. Malicious laughter ricocheted off the black bathroom tile walls. That hideous laughter continued to echo within Katrina's mind.

If it were Robyn, she'd have probably started crying. If her role was switched with Luna, she probably could have convinced the girls to shave themselves and let her go. Lane would have easily overpowered them all and that would have been the end of it. Katrina had her own path. She wasn't scared like her youngest sister would have been, she was furious. And even though she may have lacked the physical strength or silver tongue of her older siblings, Katrina would most definitely send a message those girls could understand.

After taking a deep breath, Katrina finally picked herself up off the floor. She only gave the mirror a pacing glance. What did she care that all her hair was gone anyway? It wasn't her image that was the problem, it was the principal of the matter. Bigger, stronger, more popular, it shouldn't give anyone a pass to break the rules. They were all supposed to be on an equal playing field. She saw now that wasn't the case at all. Like most things, Katrina figured if the playing field wasn't level, there had to be a tool to fix that imbalance.

Katrina kicked the door to the auto garage in. It crashed against the metal trash can on the other side with a thunderous CLANG startling the seventh period class. She marched past them all. Her forced haircut must have taken longer than expected. As students either gasped or laughed at Katrina's disheveled appearance, Mr. Grimm attempted to wrangle his student's attention. As Katrina stood before her locker she dug out her tool belt and wrapped it around her waist. Slamming the locker door shut shook the students anew. She was on a warpath. Katrina would not be stopped.

Mr. Grimm attempted to shout over the commotion, "Miss Woods, care to explain yourself?"

On her way out through the back door, Katrina grabbed a tension wrench, a cordless impact wrench, and a lite jack. Without turning to give her answer, Katrina shouted back , "No. I'm done explaining myself and my family to you people."

---

Luna drove Lane and Robin to church. Katrina elected to stay home. Fair choice. During the aftermath of the coach Tala incident, her expulsion, and half of the water polo and swim teams threatening their family, staying home was a reasonable decision. Katrina would listen to the podcast and read the Bible at her own pace. As she had grumbled earlier that morning; "Believing in God was easy, believing in the church was the hard part.

Lane had been going to Second Street Presbyterian for as long as he could remember. Reverend Cisco was as close to a father figure as he could have hoped for when his own was half a world away. Their church was small, about a hundred or so tight knit patrons; a force for good.

But, things always change.

They'd spent the first part of the year reading through the Gospels and had reached Luke Chapter Four. Lane knew the story. His mind was preoccupied with what to do with his sisters and supposedly a plague silently spreading through the world. What could he do? Lane was not a government agency. He was one man waiting to be called back into service. That was a life Lane could understand, one man risking his life to save another life. It was a reasonable exchange rate.

It wasn't until Reverend Cisco read aloud the aftermath of the Twenty-Seventh verse of Luke that Lane snapped free of his worrying.

Robyn tucked at his shirt sleeve and whispered, "I didn't remember people wanting to kill Jesus this early in the story. Why were they, 'Filled with Fury?"

Lane flipped through his mental index of Bible stories. The index was dusty, but he summarized, "Jesus read the scriptures and the people in the church didn't like what they heard."

Robyn grimaced, "If you would have told me last year that people wanted to kill Jesus just for reading The Truth, I would have found a new hobby, Lane." She folded her arms and sank in her seat.

Shrugging his shoulders, Lane countered, "Yeah, but he survived though, right?"

Robyn countered, "That's not how I remember the story ending. And I don't think we'd all come back to life after we get nailed to the letter 'T'." Robyn slouched further down in the pew with a frown and released a hearty sigh. It may have been over exaggerated, but the humor was meant to cover up the pain. She'd seen and heard Luna do it. Let them see you smile on the outside to distract them from anything that hurt on the inside. It often helped to distract herself too.

Ten minutes after the service ended, Lane approached Pastor Cisco. Only a handful of people remained in the modest chapel. As he walked toward the exit, Lane smiled at how bright the interior was. Soft white LED track lighting lined the ceiling and stage. He passed rows of modern cushioned pews from the front of the chapel to the foyer. Lane also appreciated the floor to ceiling windows that made up the east and west walls; it reflected the idea of transparency within a church. The outside world could see in, and the people inside could see everyone else; the hurting, the broken, those in need.

Of course, Lane would've preferred a church without walls at all.

While Lane wrestled with what a church should be, and shouldn't, Reverend Cisco caught him off guard with a friendly, "Good morning to you, Mr. Woods. How are we?"

Lane nodded and extended his hand, "I've been better, Rev. But, I've been worse too."

The Reverend accepted Lane's hand and shook it, "So that leaves us somewhere in the middle?" Both men regarded each other for a moment and smiled amicably, "I didn't see Katrina with us this morning. How is she faring these days? From up on stage, you all looked a little... shaken?"

---

Katrina couldn't even make it to spring break without being harassed, bullied, or beaten. Today was the last time. It wasn't in her to try and understand how or why people couldn't see that Coach Tala was a creep. It seemed obvious enough to her before Katrina's article came out. Before the News Radio interview, before the ABC segment was aired, Kat had seen enough of the man to know something wasn't right. Even with all the evidence and testimony, if people wanted to ignore everything and believe their own version of the truth, so be it. But when the truth interfered with those people's lie, that shouldn't be Katrina's fault.

If those people wanted to blame Kat, they were going to learn that actions have consequences. They were going to learn never to assault a sophomore girl with access to tools... lot's of tools. She gripped the end of the car jack tighter as she marched out into the senior parking lot.

Those girls, the waterpolo team, they all had their own parking spaces. Not official parking spaces obviously, but they might have well had their names written down on the pavement. Even if they weren't, most of the team had the Trigon Sun Devil Swimmer Logo on the back windshield. Sun Devil Pride. Unsurprisingly, all five of the swim team spots were the ones closest to the indoor swimming pool. Seventh period practice was only two hours. Katrina would have to work fast.

---

As the Reverend took in the news, his face remained neutral. He fared a lot better than Lane did when Robyn told him about a potential pandemic on the horizon.

Drawing a deep breath, Reverend Cisco asked calmly, "I won't lie to you, Lane; a modern day plague does sound a little overwhelming. How does that make you feel?"

Lane thought for a moment, considered his words; "Honestly? I haven't really had time to process what I feel. When Robyn said disaster was on the way, my training took over; what aspects of the situation can I control, what things can I not? Took a night to look up resources to give me the wisdom to discern which was which."

Tilting his head to the side, the Reverend smiled, "That's a wise course of action."

Lane chuckled, "That's my training and your tax dollars at work, Rev."

Cisco smiled and patted Lane on the back, "So you're confident this will all pass then?"

Pass? That was an odd choice of words. Had Lane not explained the situation clearly? Clearing his throat, he tried to clarify, "Maybe I misspoke. According to our primary sources, our basic understanding of the virus, and the lack of available response teams in Washington, this isn't something that's likely to blow over, no. My concern is that if we don't act quickly, things could go south real fast."

The Reverend shrugged, "Well, I suppose we'll all just have to wait and see."

Lane was floored, "Sir, I don't think you understand, waiting to respond is the exact opposite of what we should be doing. We have the opportunity to get ahead of this-"

Cisco held up his hands in defense, "Easy Lane, there's no need to panic."

Lane caught his breath, tried to calm himself, "Right. But, there's an urgent need to act."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the Reverend finally broke eye contact with Lane. Looking towards the exit, Reverend Cisco lowered his voice almost to a whisper; "Lane, you know I respect you and your service to this country. Your parents are fine folks too. Unfortunately, I can't in good conscience repeat the same mistakes that were made before."

For a split second, Lane's flash reaction was to punch a priest. His hand of course was restrained by the millions of second thoughts unfolding in his mind. He couldn't even rebut the reverend's words. Instead, Lane just stood there and let those verbal daggers dig into an already open wound.

Trying to smooth things over, the reverend added, "Coach Tala may have made some questionable decisions, but to do something like that to a man doesn't just hurt one man. This community was divided, Lane. This community was hurt after what happened."

So, Robyn was to blame for that?

Not the man's horrendous actions?

The action against the man was in the wrong?

Never mind that the newly registered sex offender pleaded no contest and ran from the community. Never mind his actions taken against innocent girls would leave invisible scars for the rest of their lives. Never mind the ridicule and reckoning that fell on himself and his sisters simply for telling the truth. No, all of that was nothing compared to losing a coach as vile and malicious as Ryan Tala.

Lane had to turn and walk from the Reverend. He continued to march towards the open doors of the church. He could taste the unnatural sweltering February heat. Then he stopped. Turning and trembling in rage, Lane asked, "Tell me Reverend, what's the exchange rate? How many girls, how many innocent people need to be abused before one man has to pay the price for his own actions?"

---

Katrina did the math. She started at around 3:00pm and it was now almost a quarter to four. Counting the four timing belts hanging from her neck like filthy rubber gold medals, it took her an average of a little more than eleven minutes per car. As she strolled herself over to the far end of the senior parking lot, Katrina understood that same swagger the water polo girls had. Maybe pride wasn't so bad? After all, shouldn't one have pride in their own work? At the very least, Katrina had a new record.

Should she wait to see their reactions?

No.

The goal wasn't to see them hurt. This wasn't about revenge. Best case scenario is that those girl's would have to hitch a ride to and from school. They'd carpool. They'd ride the bus. Maybe they'd even use their parents' cars. If everything went to plan, those girls would spend more time worrying about how they were going to get to where they needed to go and less time harassing Katrina. Worse case scenario, one of those four girls had AAA and they'd all have their timing belts replaced before the week's end. Having been beaten up and cursed out under the breath of her peers in the hallways, it couldn't get any worse.

Just as Katrina reached Luna and Robyn sitting in the Family Jeep, the sharp chime rang out over the school's intercom system followed by the voice of Principal Thaal, "Attention, Katrina Woods, report to the Principal's office immediately. Katrina Woods, to the principal's office. Now!"

Luna, Robyn, and Katrina all exchanged concerned looks.

Dropping her shoulders, Katrina turned back to face the school and trudged forward.

Of course everything would get worse.