At the Air Port

11:23am

For the hundredth time since you got to baggage claim, you looked at the board.

Southwest Airlines flight 1176 from San Francisco landed.

On the ground for 45, but because of the weather, it hadn't made it to the gate. You look around, itching for some coffee. But knowing your luck, if you leave, the flight will magically move.

Just then, the status updated to at gate.

The 50 or so people currently in baggage claim all exclaim, "Thank God."

Another five minutes pass, and then you see a couple of soldiers, then a mother and child. Finally, you see a horde of people come through the doors.

You hear an excited cry of, "Uncle Jaasssooonnn."

Turning around, your eyebrow almost hits your receding hairline. Krystal's long blonde hair streamed behind her like a banner. Her tank top was acceptable, but her pastel shorts were so tight they might as well have been painted on.

You could see two guys trailing behind her wearing University of Miami shirts. Of course, they were taking pictures of her from behind. You found yourself trying not to blame them.

Krystal throws herself into your arms, connecting with an uff as you fight not to fall over.

"Well, it's nice to see you too, munchkin."

"Hey!" she exclaims. "I am not a munchkin."

Setting your niece down, you look at her. Rather than say what she does look like, which was a walking wet dream. Instead, you say, "You're right. You're less a munchkin and more elfin."

She slaps your shoulder. "Oh, you." Opening up the bag she was carrying, she hands you a large manila envelope. "Mom said this was for you. It's my referrals, school records, and power of attorney if it's needed."

Handing it over, the two of you walk over to baggage claim. Looking at her tickets, you see that she has two suitcases. While you wait, she tells you about how the flight went and all about this hot soldier that was sitting next to her.

"There they are, Uncle," she says, pointing at two large pink suitcases.

Having already grabbed a cart, you load up the suitcases and head for the parking garage. As you walk to the car, she lets you know that most of the rest of her stuff was being shipped. As you're walking, you ask your niece, "Krystal, unlike your other school, Tempest Central doesn't have a school uniform."

She stops almost shaking in her giddiness. "It doesn't...Yes!"

You close your eyes, and you can already feel the headache coming on. "Sweetie, please tell me that your suitcases are just stuffed with what you're wearing."

Krystal looks down at what she's wearing. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? I think I look fly."

In the back of your mind was a litany of please god on repeat. Looking at your niece's painted-on shorts, you say, "I'm sure all these guys think you're...fly. But as a teacher at Tempest High School, what you're wearing would get dress-coded in about 10 seconds."

"Silly Uncle, Mom made me pack a couple of my uniforms till we go shopping."

"Thank god," you mutter to yourself.

Getting to the car, you load her bags into the back and return the cart.

Getting in the car, she asks you, "Uncle Jason, is it always this muggy?"

"Unfortunately yes, August tends to be really wet for us. You'll get used to it," you reply.

As the car turned over, she immediately turned the radio from your favorite 80s station, turning the dial till some sort of autotuned music started playing. Finally getting out of the airport was no small feat during midday, but you managed it.

About halfway home, Krystal saw a Waffle House and asked if you could stop; it had been a long time since breakfast.

As the two of you ate your meal, she confessed this was the first time she'd even eaten at one. Up until now, she'd only seen YouTube videos of people fighting here.

Refreshed from your meal, you ask Krystal if she would like to get registered and meet the cheer squad.

"Sounds good, Uncle Jason. But are you really the cheerleading coach?" she asks.

Nodding, you tell her, "I am on paper."

Driving over to the high school, you pull into the parking lot 10 minutes before school lets out. "Afternoon, Alice. This is my niece Krystal. She just got off the flight, and I need to register her."

Raising an eyebrow, Alice looks your niece over. Taking her records, Alice points at a seat. "Take a pew, Krystal; we'll get you set up."

The bell rings, and the halls fill with students. Two young men come into the office. "Ahh, Miss..." They both spot your niece at the same time, coming to a dead stop.

You see the way their eyes run up her mile-long legs to her painted-on shorts. "Ahem," you say, getting their attention.

They look up, seeing your glaring face. "Oh hey, Mr. Clarkson. How's it going?"

"Mr. Michaels, this is my niece Krystal. "You pause. Who is staying with me at my house?"

Despite being a slacker, Corey Michaels immediately picked up what you were putting down. Over the next 20 minutes, you ran off another dozen young lotharios. Right before Alice finished registering Krystal, you introduced her to Principal Smalley. Barabara mouthed the word "dress code" before excusing herself.

"Okay, Mr. Clarkson, Krystal is all set to start."

Nodding, you say, "Thanks, Alice. Let's go, honey. I'll introduce you to the team and then take you home to get settled in."

You and Krystal were walking through the halls. You were pointing out various places like the library when Krystal grabbed your arm.

"You know Uncle Jason, you didn't need to run all those boys off in the office just now."

You stop looking down into her blue eyes. "I didn't, huh?"

Krystal shakes her head, saying, "None of those guys remotely interest me, okay?"

"Krystal, I'm your uncle..."

"And it's your job to protect me, right?" She interjected.

"Yes, it's my job to man the walls, ready to use violence to keep the bad actors at bay," you remind her.

Your niece cocks her head, giving you a loving smile. "Just don't break out Great Grandpa's shotgun."

"You were fourteen. "You sputter.

Turning away from you, she chirps, "Point proven..."

"Fine." You say, pointing left, "Gymnasium that way."

Walking together, you thought back to that day. Your newly separated sister flew out with Krystal and her brother Eric for Thanksgiving despite Covid.

That whole week a couple of creepy neighbors had been giving Krystals looks. It came to head when Ken Web started chatting up a visibly uncomfortable Krystal. You stormed inside, went to your closet, and got your grandfather's old shotgun.

In the end it turned out right. Guy got what he deserved in the end, going to prison for weed he'd been pushing.

You shake yourself from the memory when you hear Maddie calling, "5, 6, 7, 8...That's good, ladies; let's do it one more time with pizzazz."

Calling out to the group, you bellow, "Are we ready for tomorrow?"

"You bet your ass we are," Maddie yells back.

Detaching themselves from the group, Maddie and Jennifer come over to meet you.

"Maddie, Jennifer, this is my niece Krystal. Krystal Maddie is my assistant coach and the person who's really running the team. And Jennifer is our head cheerleader."You say making introductions.

Excusing yourself, you head over to the bleachers. While the girls talk about Krystal's experience as a cheerleader.

After about 10 minutes Jennifer comes over to you. "She'll fit in just fine," she announces.

"That's good," you reply, relief evident. "What do you think of her?"

Jennifer looks over at where your niece was having an animated conversation with Maddie. Looking back, Jennifer had a calculating expression. "It's clear Krystal is an experienced cheerleader and has some ideas."

Then leaning close, in a low tone, she says, "It's also clear to me. Krystal is a walking sex pot who's into her uncle bigly."

Rocked back by that, you sputter, "Wha-wha-what? No, that's impossible."

Jennifer smiled, tsk tsking. "Poor Mr. Clarkson, surrounded by hot girls who just want to be fucked and bred by him."

"You have it all wrong, young lady; she's not into me that way. Anyways, I'm her uncle."You say protesting.

"Want to bet?" Jennifer tells you with her trademark sexy smirk. "I bet before the weekend is out she conveniently forgets a towel taking a shower." On a roll, she continues, "or you'll catch her in her underwear for reasons."

Jennifer pokes you in the chest, and it's not as if you haven't thought about it, Uncle Bob.

"Those are fantasies," you exclaim.

Jennifer licks her lips, replying, "Fantasies in which Uncle Bob frequently gets seduced by his niece and knocks her up."

What could you say? You have read all those stories. And maybe you imagined Krystal, not that you would ever admit it.

Just then Maddie blew her whistle. "Remember, ladies, come to school in your uniforms tomorrow. Also, the bus leaves 20 minutes after class lets out; don't be late."

While the squad heads upstairs to shower, you and Krystal head back to your car. Pulling out of the parking lot, you were jetting down the road when you asked, "So, sweetie, I didn't look earlier. What's your class schedule look like?"

Pulling out the student folder Alice had given her, Krystal looked it over. "Let's see, one of my electives, they don't offer it here, so I changed it. Hmmmm, I have second lunch, and... oh, my fourth period is US history with you."