Bogus Bunny

I had been following Nicole Nolan for almost a month and by now I knew her pretty well. She was the captain of our school’s cheer squad, the Butler Bunnies, and my ticket to Butler Bugle reporter of the year. If only I could just figure out who she was. She had appeared out of nowhere last year and she had so beguiled everyone with her blond hair, long legs, and Marilyn Monroe frame, that no one had stopped to wonder where this championship level cheerleader had come from. No one but me, that is; Lisa Lane, investigative reporter.

Everyone at the paper said I should just drop it. Even my editor, Terry White, which I have to admit was pretty surprising. She was normally more apt to say, “Get out there and get me that story, Lisa.” But on this one, she had told me several times to leave it alone. Maybe she was using reverse phycology, you know, telling me not to do something because she knew it would motivate me to go after it even more. If that was her plan, it was working perfectly.

While others had watched the basketball game, I had watched Nicole. She clapped, she laughed and made small talk with her fellow cheerleaders. Then at half time, the Bunnies did a flawless half-time show with choregraphed dancing, a smock machine and stunts that would have seemed perfectly normal in a Hollywood movie, but were way over the top for a high school cheer squad.

After the game, I used interviewing the coach and the starting forward as an excuse to hang around. I asked the usual questions and took down some notes on my tablet absent mindedly, while out of the corner of my eye, I watched Nicole the entire time. Unlike the rest of the squad who had already retired to the locker room to shower and change, Nicole had stayed behind.

I had interviewed the school janitor Carl, about this slightly odd behavior that I had observed several times over the last few weeks. He had told me, Nicole always stayed and helped clean up after all the school events when the Bunnies preformed at because she felt it was part of her duties as captain of the squad to clean up after them.

Gag me, I had thought at the time. Then I began to wonder if her helpfulness was just a cover for something else. Maybe she was trying to make amends for some past wrong- doing. Or maybe she was up to something even more sinister, now. I made up my mind that at the next opportunity, I was going to follow Nicole and figure out what was going on.

I ended my interview and said thank you to Coach Scott. Then I sat on the floor of the gym. I pretended to start writing my article when I saw Nicole grab her pink bunny bag and head out of the gym. I moved as quickly and as silently as I could across the gym and out the same door Nicole had just exited through. I was in hot pursuit.

I followed her down the hall. She didn’t seem to notice she was being tailed. My heart pounded and I risked moving closer. She suddenly looked back. I dove into the nearest doorway and prayed she could not see me. She must not have because, after a few seconds, she lifted her shoulders in a "must have been my imagination" gesture and kept walking.

Once she went around the corner, I decided it was safe to start breathing again. Back in stealth mode, moved down the hall and around the corner. My heart sank. There before me was the entrance to the girl’s locker room. I walked up to the door and cursed under my breath.

I gave some thought to following her into the locker room with the excuse that I wanted to interview her. Maybe she would give up the goods under interrogation. Naaa, I thought, changing my mind. If she had kept her secret this long, she was not going to crack under my amateur interview skills. I turned around and started to head back down the hall, resigned that the mystery would not be solved tonight. Then I saw it.

There was a thin line of light coming from under one of the doors in the hallway. I looked up and squinted in the dark at the plaque next to the door. It read, “Maintenance Services.” Was it possible that one of the janitors had forgot to turn the light off before they left? Then I heard a noise behind the door. Someone or something was in there.

I put my hand on the knob. The mechanism was well oiled and so it didn’t make a sound as I turned it. Then I slowly opened the door. I was not sure what I was about to see. Several possibilities went through my head; clandestine drug deal, after-hours poker game, or dare I hope, aliens? Then reality set in and I assumed it would most likely be one the janitors putting away one of those big push brooms they use to clean the gym floor.

It was now or never. I screwed my courage to the sticking place, whatever that means, and opened the door. My eyes went wide as I took in the scene before me. I was then struck dumb as the person in the closet turned. They were like something right out of a Greek myth. He/she was a mixture of male and female features. Could this be a new species of human, I thought and then quickly dismissed the idea as absurd.

I shook my head and began to focus. My eyes took in all the details before me. Nicole’s bunny bag hung on a hook sticking out of the opposite wall. A blonde wig draped half out of it. The person had crossed their arms over their bra and very nice breast forms. They were also still holding a makeup removal wipe and must have just finished cleaning their face when I opened the door. I fixated on their makeup-less face. They smiled nervously at me, not daring to speak.

I knew that smile. I had seen that smile almost every day in the school newspaper room. My brain began to whir as it put all the pieces together. Turns out the answer to the question, who is Nicole Nolan, was far simpler than I could have ever guessed. Nicole Nolan, Butler’s very own blonde bombshell bunny was in reality, Nick White, my editor’s brother.

Nick pulled me into the closet. The heavy door shut behind me. For Nick the “click” of the door was like a starting pistol. “I told Terry you were getting closer,” he began, “and that this was not going to work for much longer.”

My reporter brain kicked in. “That what would not work for much longer?” I asked.

Nick looked sheepish. “I got kicked out of Filmore for crossdressing last year.”

“Filmore,” I had to think, “The fancy, all boys, boarding school in Springville.”

“The very same.” Nick confirmed. “If my parents found out that I got kicked out and didn’t get my diploma, I would have been dead meat,” Nick sighed. “Terry suggested I could come here to finish school and our parents would be none the wiser. They’re always working.”

“OK. That explains why you are here.” I tried not to get lost in his eyes. They were just so brown they were almost golden. “But what’s with the "Nicole" get up?”

“I had to be Nicole. Not only because I am Nicole deep down, but also because all the teachers here already know me. If I suddenly started taking classes here, one of them was bound to tell my parents and once again…” Nick pantomimed being hung.

“Right,” I mumbled to myself.

“I’m sorry for all the deception,” Nick sai, putting on a pink sailor moon shirt.

I thought long and hard about what to do next. I wanted to write the article exposing Nicole so bad. It seemed like hours passed. In reality it must have only been a few minutes before I asked, “Do you really like being Nicole more than Nick?”

While I waited for his answer, I found the files that contained all the research I had done on Nicole Nolan over the last month on my tablet.

“I am Nicole Nolan,” he said as his eyes moistened with tears, “In every way that counts.”

His response made my decision for me. I could not believe I was about to do this. “Nicole,” I said showing her my tablet, “This is going to hurt me way more than it does you.”

I hit DELETE ALL.