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Glass Towers and Goats
Glass Towers and Goats
Glass Towers and Goats
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Glass Towers and Goats

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After terrifying her teachers at Compton Prodigy College, a school for the ultra-gifted in Chicago, Tildey Starling, fifteen, moves with her parents to Moab Utah– so she can try being a "normal" girl. Shortly after starting school at Grand Valley High, she meets climate change activist, Carmella Blacksnake, a Navajo. Together the two become outrageous climate change activists set on upending the world of the wrestling team, the school principal, a County Commissioner, and a team of academic henchmen from the Institute of Advanced Studies.

"Glass Towers and Goats" is a rollicking, hell raising tale about Girl Power and how it can change the world!
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateApr 20, 2020
ISBN9781098312237
Glass Towers and Goats

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    Glass Towers and Goats - Gary Cox

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    ISBN: 9781098312237

    Table of Contents

    Section One - Lack

    Section Two – The Borromean Knot

    Section Three – Jouissance

    Section One

    Lack

    Tildey struggled to stay awake as the teacher droned on and on about the conquest of the West. This was the second week of school and the last class before lunchbreak, Utah History. Tildey was new, new to the school, new to western landscapes and new to the strange little town of Moab, having arrived with her parents a little over a month ago from Chicago. She had never been west of the Mississippi. Everything was eerie and unfamiliar in this huge land of strange red sandstone. But the place was very much to her liking. She had hated the city with a passion.

    Tildey was a total recluse, always stayed in her room, had no friends, and had been in therapy for as long as she could remember. Her mother had failed to find a therapist in Moab up to her specifications so had arranged for Tildey to continue with her Chicago therapist by Skype. Tildey was a small, slender, very plain girl who did absolutely nothing to enhance her appearance. She dressed as inconspicuously as possible, andstudiously avoided everybody. She could answer any test question in her sleep and had to restrain herself from showing off in Calculus, something they let her take even though she was the only tenth grader in a math class full of seniors. Her parents were convinced she needed to socialize with those of her of own age group and thus would not allow her to skip grades. Not that Tildey cared one way or the other. She hated school and was planning on dropping out as soon as she could legally get away with it. Even her mother’s dream of establishing heron a full scholarship insomegraduate or even post-graduate level position in a highly prestigious institution of higher learning left her cold.

    Not that Tildey needed a scholarship;her mother Alice made more money than she knew what to do with. Their luxury home in the gated community had been purchased with cash, on a whim, because there was a hospital administrator position that had just come open for her father,and becauseAlice wanted a home base for outdoor adventuring. When she was not flying hither and thither across the globe for her derivatives firm, she was skiing, climbing, canyoneering, mountain biking, base jumping or white water kayaking.

    Tildey had no interest whatsoever in her mother’s adventures. She hated sports and all modes of outdoor recreation. She absolutely loathed television, motion pictures, social media and all music written after the 17th century, except for that of Johann Sebastian Bach. She was obsessed with the motets of Josquin Des Prez and spent all of her spare time reading hagiographies of medieval female saints and the works of Michel Foucault and Jacques Lacan. And though she absolutely loathed her mother’s self-absorbed friends, and their stupid outdoor obsessions, she was drawn to the window of her room quite frequently. The gigantic strangely sculpted sandstone fins and towering peaks beyond moved her in ways she did not understand.

    Tildey’sfather Robert was far too busy being a hospital administrator and working on his PhD in Finance to pay much attention to her. Also she had developed the art of being easy to ignore. Her parents did haveoccasional spasms of concern that she did not go out, had no friends, and didn’t seem to care. Her Mother in particular, often expressedher desire that Tildeybe somehow coaxed into at least a semblance of normalcy. But in reality they had both more or less given up, though they were hopeful that the highly touted new medication, Axiargazine, her Therapist had just prescribed for Tildey would do the trick. Tildey, however, had long ago learned how to fake taking psychiatric medications and was saving up all her uningested pills and capsules in an oblong wooden box intending to give them a decent burial someday.

    The bell rang and there was a rush for the exits. Tildey remained seated. Before the class had begun, the teacher, Mr. Meeks, had asked her to stay behind. Nowhe motioned her into his office. He cleared his throat, looked at her sternly, and asked her to take a seat; Tildey remained standing. I asked you to stay behind thismorning because I wanted to talk to you about your essay; ‘What the Pioneering Spirit Means to Me.’ I must say it is quite impressive; your thoughts are very well developed, your writing is refined, your sentence structure perfect and your facts entirely accurate, but I am much disturbed, very much disturbedindeed by the ferocious sarcasm of your style. It is downright hateful! It displays a decided, even angry disrespect for allthat we hold sacredhere in ourgreat state of Utah.  What do you have to say for yourself, Miss… he looked down at her essay, Miss Mechtilde Starling?

    Only this Mr. Meeks; I challenge you to produce another essay from that pathetic pile of misbegotten prose, and she indicated the other essays, that even hints at a style. Mr. Meeks was speechless. Tildey said she had to run and was out the door. A faint wait, wait, pursued her down the hall.

    After Calculus class, her father was waiting at the curbto take her home, even though they lived within easy walking distance of the school. Tildey had no objection. It would mean not being obliged to make small talk with the three or four girls from Calculus classwho always insisted ontrying to make conversation with her. Her father flashed his usual fake smile as she got into the car, and as they turned onto the main road, asked her the usual fake questions. She gave her usual fake answers. Then he announced that he must be departing that night for Chicago. Your Great Aunt Maria passed away this morning, and I am her only remaining relative.

    I am sorry to hear that Dad. I always liked Aunt Maria. She inspired me to teach myself Latin. I even liked her strange Old School Catholic devotional practices for some reason.

    Aunt Maria is to be buried with all the pomp and ceremony of a fullblown Catholic funeral. She had money. And she really liked you. Maybe she remembered you in her will. I have a meeting with her lawyers tomorrow at ten. He rolled down the window and punched in thecode. They drove majestically through the pretentiouslyheroic gate into the exclusive neighborhood. So, Tildey, you will be on your own here for a while. Mom will be joining me when she finishes in Frankfurt. They gave me leave from the hospital for at least a week; more if needed. I am sure you can take care of yourself. Do you think you will be able to walk to school OK?

    Of course Dad, The door of the huge garage began opening as they approached the house.

    ***

    The next morning Tildey started early for school. She marveled at the sky,the pinkish golden blaze above the grey peaks,the towering west wall of the valley now flushedwith luminous orange. The main road was clogged with a rumbling line of hideous looking trail machines. She put in her ear buds and drowned out their loathsome sputteringwith Monteverdi. She finally scrambled down to her usual foot path that led away from the road andalongside Mill Creek, a crystal clear stream flowing out of the mountains. As she proceeded down the trail she took out her ear buds. The dismal noises dimmed behind her as she walked slowly along enjoying the occasional birdsong and the soft sweet purling of the stream. 

    As she was nearing the bridge close to the school she heard a faint, agonized weeping coming from a dense thicket of willows. She picked her way through it to a small clearing where a strikingly beautiful dark-skinned girl, with long jet-black hair, crouched on her knees. The girl was holding her stomach. Her body shuddered violently with uncontrolled sobs. Tildey guessed she was from one of the tribes. She had seen her before in the hallways and had marveled that someone so beautiful had absolutely no friends, never said a word to anyone and always tried to avoid her fellow classmates. Perhaps this girl was a kindred spirit. Tildey withdrew her huge pink bandanna and handed it to the girl whosebody continuedshuddering.The girl thanked her, painfullystood, and began clumsily wiping her tear smudgedface. Tildey could see that the girl had been vomiting.Without thinking Tildey wrapped her arms tightly around the girland held her close – for a very long time. I’m Tildey Starling, she finally murmured when the girl’s trembling had eased.

    Now, relatively calm and dry eyed, the dark haired girl withdrew and looked closely at Tildey. I’m Carmella Blacksnake.

    What happened?

    My Grandmother lives way down at the south end of the valley. She has an early shift and drops me off here a little before six. I pass out information about climate change while I wait for school. I’m an activist – a lonely one though. Anyway this big lout,I think he’s a wrestler or something, grabs all myleaflets and throws ‘em in the creek. Then he startsinsulting my people (I’m Navajo). Then he grabs my hand and drags me off the trailand starts kissing me and grabbing my boobs. I scream - but he puts his tongue my mouth andshoves his hard-on against my belly. Then a bunch of joggers comes alongand he pushes me into the creekand runs up to the road. His dad’s some kind of bigwig politician from San Juan County whohates my people.

    Oh, that’s Lance Mercaptan. He’s in my Calculus class.  He cheats all the time. I don’t’ know how he got in. He’s as dumb as a post. Did he hurt you?

    Not really; but he made me sick to my stomach when he put his tongue in my mouth.

    I’ll go with you to the principal’s office.

    No thanks Tildey – waste of time. I hate bureaucrats.

    This is a nice little hiding place.

    I come here to smoke, and she pulled out a half smoked joint, lit it, took a long drag then passed it to Tildey.

    When they had thrashed through the thickets back to the path, Tildey asked if she could see one of the leaflets. Carmella pointed to a scattering of sodden white objects caught on snags in the stream. However, one had lodged in a clumpof rushes near thewater’s edge and hadn’t gotten wet. Tildey scrambled down.

    As she sat in painful boredom in Calculus class, she noticed Lance Mercaptan, sitting directly in front of her, biting the eraser off his pencil as he stared grim-faced at the problems before him. She also noticed the brand new Smartphoneperched conspicuously on his desk. It was obviously the glitziest, shiniest, sleekest, perkiest, zestiest digital device known to man. And Lance was obviously very proud of it. Tildey possessed an old flip phone, which she kept in her dresser drawer and checked once a week for messages – which never came. She looked down at her long line of neat elegant solutions to the problems on the page, and yawned. She withdrew Carmella’s leaflet and looked it over. At the top was a photograph of a small slight girl with long braids sitting by herself, back against a cement wall, on a sidewalk, with a sign. The words on the sign were in Swedish, but they obviously read, School Strike for Climate. Tildey read the text. The girl in braids had started an internationalmovement for climate action and was calling for a worldwide general strike on the 20th. What an amazing girl, thought Tildey.

    The bell was about to ring, it was the last class of the day, and those who had completed the test looked longingly at the exits. Time’s up, declared the teacher and began walking down the aisles picking up the tests. Lance still had a number of problems yet to solve. However he was the teachers’ favorite and when Miss Moreland got to him, she whispered that they would work out his remaining problems on the blackboard, after class, and he would be given a passing grade. The bell rang. There was a noisy rush. Tildey lingered, took her time gathering up her school supplies. Lance and Miss Moreland had gone to the blackboard. As Tildey was about to slide the leaflet back into her notebook, she saw Lance’s phone, still sitting prominently on his desk. She snatched it up, replacing it with the leaflet then dashed out the door before she could have second thoughts.

    When Tildey reached the bridge, she saw Carmella lingering at top of the steps leading down to the path. Hi, Tildey; I thought you might like to have a puff before you go home. I have to wait here until Grandma Suzy finishes her second shift. I sit and read or just listen to the creek. Tildey said she would be delighted and the two threaded their way through the willows.

    When they emerged they stood for a long time looking at the afternoon amber sparkling on the purling ripples, then Carmella noticed one remaining leaflet caught on an underwater snag, itswhite tatters fluttered in the current. She burst into tears. I feel sick.

    Don’t cry Carmella. Look what I have! and Tildey pulled Lance’s phone out of her pocket. Lance’s prized possession! It claims to be waterproof. Do these things float?

    I don’t think so.

    Well, just to be sure, And Tildey grabbed a discarded shopping bag caught in a clump of asters and put the phone inside. Then shewent down to the creek, gathered a number of the larger cobbles from the streambed and put them inside with the phone and tied off the top. She looked at Carmella with a grin then lobbed the bag into the deepest part of the creek.

    Why don’t you come home with me? said Tildey as they stared smiling at the white plastic bag barely visible at the bottom of the deep green hole. My parents will be gone for at least a week. Lance will probably blame you for stealing his phone. You’ll be safer at my house. You can sleep over and tomorrow we can walk together to school.

    I’ll let Grandma Suzy know. I am sure she’ll be fine with it. She worries, leaving me so long to wait you know. You are so kind Tildey. Thank you so much.

    Carmella could not sleep. She tossed and turned and cried as she lay beneath silken sheets on the elegant, queen sized bed in the spare bedroom. Memories of Lance’s tongue thrusting itself wormlike into her mouth kept assaulting her just as she was about to drift off.  Tildey couldn’t sleep either. She was quite hyper, and kept laughing out loud at the thought of Lance’s sleek new waterproof phone now flashing inane messages at aquatic invertebrates. After a time, she heard distant agonized sobs coming from the spare room. Carmella was a red eyed miserable wreck when Tildey turned on the light. She took Carmella gently by the hand and led her to her room,then tenderly tucked her in under her sheets and got in beside her. She reached out shyly, caressinglythengradually brought the trembling body close in her arms. Finally,Carmella relaxed and both girlsfell soundly asleep.

    Just before first light Tildey wokeup screaming;she had had a horrific nightmare. She dreamed she was standing alone on the bridgelooking down at the creek. She couldn’t take her eyes off the white plastic bag plastered to the bottom. Then shenoticed a frantic movement inside. Something was trying to get out. It was Lance’s phone- and it was doggedly chewing its way through the stubbornly resistant plastic. Tildey tried to run, but her feet were glued to the sidewalk. The phone finally burst free, shot to the surface and swam clumsily to shore. It had long bat’s wings and a wide grinning mouth with chromium fangs. Tildey remained frozen as the phone sat on the bank slowly drying out its wings in the warm breeze. Then it flew up and headed straight for her face. Tildey broke from her paralysis and began running as fast as she could. When she looked back she saw the phone gaining on her.Awrinkled pink penis now dangled below its eager smile. The phone caught up with her, latched onto her hair with its hooks then sank its fangsinto her ear as its now erect penis thumped softly against her neck. Its anteater’sstickytongue then slithered into her ear, and began sandpapering awayat the sensitive part of her eardrum. She screamed. Carmella almost jumped out of bed. Good grief Tildey, What is it?

    Ugh, I had a terrible nightmare. Tildey proceeded to relate the details.

    Carmella was shocked - aghast. We, I mean we Navajos, we take our dreams very seriously.

    So does my therapist, said Tildeyand laughed hysterically. I wonder what he will make of this one.

    The two sat together on the broad veranda and looked out as the sky began to brighten over the La Sal mountains, it was one of the finest views in the valley, but Tildey had never savored it. She had pretty much stayed in her room since arriving. She had even taken her meals in her room.

    Tildey’s father kept a humidor in his walk-in closet filled with the very finest, very strongest, small Cuban cigars money can buy. Tildey occasionally helped herself and now sat puffing contentedly as she sipped coffee with Carmella. Carmella had declined the offer of a cigar. The two sat listening in silence as the morning light began slowly growing rosy and the birdsong began. The first rays of the sun spilled goldover the mountains. Tildey finally spoke, Carmella, I thought you might be a kindred spirit when I saw you in the hallways, always alone, always grave, always silent. I love silence Carmella. And I see you appreciate it too.

    Carmella smiled and rested a hand on Tildey’s shoulder. I must confess Tildey I never noticed you. You were a complete wonder and surprise when you came crashing through those willows. Who would have thought?

    Something just hit me Carmella. There was no hesitation. You needed a friend. But let’s move on. I really want to be an activist with you. You stand out - you inspire respect – like that Swedish girl. She is incandescent!  The more I think about her the more I want to join her cause. Do you have any more of those leaflets?

    No, Lance took them all. And I can’t afford to get more printed until Grandma Suzy gets her paycheck Friday.

    You have it on a flash drive I assume. Well, at lunch break we’ll go to the Copy Center and get a hundred or so made on my dime. 

    You really do want to join. Wow, I’m so glad! I haven’t gotten anyone interested. I’m shy, I guess. I have a hard time speaking out.

    Tildey finished her coffee, stubbed out her cigar and put the remnant in her shirt pocket. Carmella withdrew a long, fat joint from her purse and lit it up. I prefer green bud to brown leaf, except for ceremonial purposes, andshe took a long pull on the white cylinder then exhaled a huge bluish cloud at the mountains and handed the joint to Tildey.

    As they walked down the path beside the creek, Carmella explained that in addition to her Grandma Suzy, she lived with her Great Aunt Barbara and Great Grandmother Marian, or Granny, in a single-wide trailer, at the end of a long bumpy driveway. It was on sixteen acres with irrigation water so they had a huge garden and kept goats and sheep. Her Auntie Barbara took care of Granny and the garden. Grandma Suzy worked cleaning houses and brought in a paycheck.

    Shortly after Carmella had turned ten her single mother vanished without a trace. Much later she had gone to live with her Father, until he and her Grandfather had gone up to Standing Rock to protest the Keystone XL Pipeline. There they had been arrested and thrown into Federal prison with no hope of release.  She and her Grandmother had only last month moved in with Auntie Barbara, who had property in Spanish Valley and a small pension. So Carmella too was new to Moab and to the school.

    Thetwo then began comparing class schedules. Tildey said she could probably transfer to Carmella’s classes more easily than the other way around. You see, they say I am gifted. And they will honor my request if I bullshit them and tell them that changing my schedule will enhance my gift.

    The only problem I can see, said Carmella, Is Calculus. My last class of the day is Theatre and Modern Dance. I don’t think you’d be interested in that, and I don’t see how you could make a case for transferring.

    Oh Carmella, you underestimate me! I know I’ve never done anything remotely of the sort.Butit would mean expansiveness, coming out of myself! My Therapist would be thrilled, my parents too - maybe.

    And so it was that Tildey marched into the Administrator’s office and got her class schedule changed to match Carmella’s; all except for Calculus. You’ll have to go talk to Miss Moreland. If she signs off on it, it’s OK with me.

    At lunchbreak Carmella and Tildey walked over to the Copy Center returning with a packet of fifty newly minted leafletseach. But they were late getting back to the school and had no time to pass them out.

    Tildey arrived ten minutes early for Calculus. Miss Moreland was seated at her desk. Tildey made her request and Miss Moreland expressed shock and dismay. You want to shift from College Prep Calculus to Theatre and Modern Dance? And I thought you showed such promise! You are the most impressive beginning math student I’ve ever seen. Getting an A in this class would almost certainly guarantee you a full scholarship. You are mad to leave justas you’ve gotten started.

    Tildey was about to reply when their conversation was interrupted by Lance, who was livid. What’s the matter Lance? Miss Moreland tenderly inquired.

    I went to Dr. Mendelssohn’s class to ask that redskin girlCarmella about my Smartphone. She hates me you know. But Dr. Mendelssohn said she stayed late, so it couldn’t have been her.  Just then he noticed the brochures sticking up out of Tildey’s notebook. It was you! he hissed. You were sitting right behind me! You put one of these on my desk when you stole my Smartphone, and he snatched a leafletfrom Tildey and triumphantly presented it to Miss Moreland.

    Miss Moreland scowled at the picture of the Swedish girl. One of these was indeed sitting on Lance’s desk where his Smartphone had been. What have you to say for yourself Miss Starling?

    Only this, if Mr. Mercaptan had any aptitude for math he wouldn’t have needed your patient assistance for so long – just so you would feel justified in giving him a passing grade. I put the leaflet on his desk beside his phone but he was so long with you, any number of people - janitors, delivery men, other students, could have taken it.

    So you didn’t take it Tildey?

    I did not! I have absolutely no use for those stupid contraptions. Do you ever see me staring like a zombie into one? In fact -think about it Miss Moreland -I am the only person in yourclass who is not glued to a screen when they are not paying attention to you.

    That is true Tildey. That is true indeed. Lance, please, you should not be so hasty with your accusations. Have you reported it to security? Lance nodded as he sat down scowling at his desk.

    "Now where were we Tildey? Oh yes, you want to transfer. I must confess I

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