A 2nd Generation Whateley Academy Story
Down the Rabbit Hole
by Nagrij
The saying is, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. In the past year, I've been given enough lemons to start my own lemonade franchise; I could put minute maid out of business. Even now, here I was, bundled up in a gray hoodie that could double as a sleeping bag, burning up from the heat of it.
Yet I dared not take it off. If I did, someone might see. Or even worse, someone might see and recognize me. I was sort of famous, in much the same way that Hitler or the Menendez brothers were famous. Another good saying came to mind: “There is no such thing as bad publicity.”
That one is a lie. Publicity can be very bad. Waiting in a security line at an airport looking like a highly suspicious person was actually sort of preferable to being recognized. Perhaps if I was lucky I'd only have to show myself to security and the MCO, and could avoid the inevitable for once.
I really hoped so.
The line was so long, though, much like others along the way (who were incidentally giving me a wide berth, something I didn't find offensive in the least) I resorted to one of the worst mental exercises any member of humanity could engage in; the what if.
What if three months ago I'd done the right thing?
My mind starting laying out recent history, the better to determine where I could have halted the train wreck....
.......
The start of a new school year; I put my new freshman textbooks in my locker and started threading the sea of hormonal humanity. More than a few of the girls took... liberties. A lingering hand here or there for just a bit too long, mostly. Nothing a true gentleman would mention, at any rate.
“Hey, stud!”
There was the one I wanted to see. Jamie Howe. Hair the color of spun gold, eyes plucked from the depths of an aquamarine sea, and a body a mannequin might envy.
Her eyes never wavered from me as she strode up, threading the crowd herself like a pro.
“Boring first day, right? Can hardly wait to see how silly High school is going to be compared to middle school.”
“Well it won't be any harder, that's for sure. Seen the chemistry book yet? The first half is crap we already know.”
She mock groaned, then grabbed my arm.
“Come on, let's get out of here, I don't want stay in here any more than I need to; each minute carries the risk of becoming stupider.”
I had to laugh.
“Jamie, stupider isn't a word.”
She widened those wonderful eyes, then grinned and dragged me into a run.
“Oh crap, it's already starting! Come on!”
We hit the sunlight and she made a show of taking in a great breath, which did wonderful things for her chest. I noticed, and she pretended to not notice me noticing though the grin gave it away. The little minx. I decided now was the time.
“So, you doing anything fun tonight?”
“Nah, my parents are both home awaiting my glorious return with baited breath.”
That wasn't much of an exaggeration; I had known Jamie and her family for years now, and they spoiled her rotten. They were also very protective, which made my next step a risk. If I played this wrong I was destroying our friendship for nothing.
“Then how about we go see a movie? You pick.”
Normally I picked. Jamie was the romantic comedy type. No getting around it, even a dream girl could have flaws. She stared up at me (I'd grown a bit taller than she had over the summer).
“Why Lucas Del Bosque, some people might think that you were asking me out on a date. A date date, here in public and everything.”
Normally I'd deny the accusation and we'd continue as normal, do our thing, have fun and go home. Not today.
“Why Jamie Howe, I do believe I am.”
She stopped. Just stopped in her tracks so suddenly I'd feared she was having some sort of health problem. Then she turned to me woodenly, with jerky spastic movements. I knew it! I'd blown it, and she was going to turn me down. Tell me (like she had told everyone else) in no uncertain terms, to go away.
“You mean it?”
What? Not trusting words, I nodded.
“You really mean it? You and me on a real date?”
I nodded again, finding words now that I wasn't facing outright rejection.
“Yes, a movie followed by dinner and everything.”
Monty's was the little Italian place that Jamie loved eating at. She only got to go there once a year... on her birthday. Me, I preferred Greek. Now, I'd never put much stock in all those things I heard from other guys about the crazy things girls could do, and Jamie was one of the most down to earth people I knew. But she actually squealed in delight.
Slapping her hands over her mouth as her face reddened to beet levels, she looked around. So did I. The usual school crowd had gone silent and gathered around us like grade schoolers for a bully fight.
“OK gotta go get ready see you at the theater bye!”
It took me a second to decipher what she blurted out, during which time she was already gone.
Eric Wate, a large guy who I knew from gym walked up to me while I was a still a bit starstruck and clapped me on the shoulder.
“I think I speak for all of us guys when I say. Congratulations, you lucky bastard. You're the first one of us she hasn't shot down. That and can you share some of that luck with the rest of us?”
I looked up into his grin.
“It's just prayer and clean living Eric. Anyone can do it.”
He rolled his eyes.
“It's that hot Spanish look you have going for you man, all the girls here pine for you. Should have known Jamie did too, but you guys looked too firmly in the friend zone for anything like this to happen.”
“Well, surprised me. And cheer up Eric, there's always plastic surgery. I hear they can do wonders with that these days. Got to go, see you later.”
His smile answered mine as I waved. He knew I was just kidding, a mild relief. My motto was 'make love, not war'. Not that I'd done it yet, but there was always hope. Now I had to hurry home myself; I'd meant to just take Jamie directly to the movie and restaurant.
But she had to 'get ready' first. I didn't understand it; I'd already seen her a million times before; at her best and at her worst. So why bother even changing clothes?
.......
I caught a ghost of a smile on my face as the line moved, and I turned off memory lane. The good times... right before my world turned to a steaming pile of dog doo doo.
Now that I was a bit closer, I could see the hard looks the customs agents were giving me. The MCO agent was trying to peer under the hood, and the airport police looked nervous. It was beginning to look like they would simply pull me out of line, something I both half-dreaded and half-desired. At least it would expedite things.
The line moved again as an old grandma went through, only slightly furious as security had rifled her purse twice, and only spilled it once. A businessman was up next, perhaps a salesman in a slightly ill fitting gray suit. I let my mind drift again. If they pulled me out of line, then it happened.
........
Mom was waiting for me as I stepped into the door, shutting out the gloriously wonderful afternoon in favor of darkened inner spaces yet again (though at least this time, it wasn't the children's prison that school was). She was reading a magazine of some sort.
“So how was the first day?”
I snagged an apple as I answered.
“Even more boring than school normally is. The assembly was an hour of how we were adults now, and had to act like it, and the classes only covered the syllabus.”
I waited till she started to drink her tea.
“Oh, and I asked Jamie out.”
She spit it everywhere! Perfect. And the look she gave me was priceless. I threw her a hand towel with a smile.
“And what did she say?”
“She said yes, I'll be meeting her in about 30 minutes. That is, assuming you don't have anything for me to do?”
She waved me off with a smile. In her early forties, Estrella Del Bosque was still beautiful (or as beautiful as any mom could be). Yellow-tan skin a shade darker than my own belied her Spanish heritage, and dark brown hair in a short cut framing her face. Her nails were manicured, her figure was trim, and her manners were polished.
She worked as a freelance public relations agent. Which meant sometimes she was home far too much. I hadn't expected her home today.
“Then you better get ready. You can't wear that if she's changing, and you'd better not disappoint her.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I hurried up, taking the stairs two at a time, and burst into my room. What mom said, went. And while I had only wanted to drop my new books off, I would be a fool to argue with the woman who clothed and fed me. Not to mention paid me money to do things around the house, the next best thing I could do to earn money since summer had officially ended and I wasn't yet 16.
A dark red polo shirt and brand new jeans and I was back downstairs, apple back in hand (or mouth, more appropriately). Mom put her magazine down (some news magazine shipped from Spain; she liked to keep up with news from her homeland.) and made a twirling motion with a hand.
So I spun.
“Perfect; the mix of youthful lack of interest and importance to occasion. Have fun, and be back by 10.”
I waved on my way out.
“Sure thing, and of course it's right! I learned from a master after all!”
My mom had been teaching me the many ways to impress since dad left, after they immigrated. I was four. They didn't really keep in touch, but dad sent a Christmas card every year, and a birthday card to me every year. Sometimes it even arrived on the right day. Last I heard he was an accountant back in Spain.
I didn't know why he left, though the hints I'd had were that he preferred Spain to America. I'd never been to Spain, so I couldn't comment on it. At any rate, the first way to impress was to dress according to all those little, unwritten and seemingly arbitrary rules balancing popular culture and sanity.
The second was speech. My English was a bit better than hers and I could switch to proper English at any time... but my mom had other weapons. I'd learned Spanish, Greek, and Italian on her knee. I suspected she knew French and German as well.
Why she wasn't getting the big bucks as a U.N. translator I didn't know. I asked once, and she said if she was she wouldn't be able to live here. Here was, of course, Palo Madera California. A small suburb of Redding set into the forest, with Lassen National Forest just to the east.
The Redding area had a population of 91,000 and was pretty much the biggest town in the area, nestled between forests and National parks. (Shasta Trinity National Park was on the other side of Redding.) I had to admit it was beautiful country. Nice and running that balance between too small to be fun and too big to be safe, and busy versus isolated.
Maybe Spain didn't have anything as majestic. I didn't know and mom wouldn't say. I found it hard to believe though.
The local theater was a Cinemark branch which was odd in that it wasn't placed inside a mall or other such structure. It was just an old movie theater from the 60's or 70's, bought out by a big box company and refurbished into three small theater rooms with a big box, one size fits all feel. It made an interesting dichotomy, much like the area we lived in.
Jamie was not waiting for me, of course. I was five minutes early, and she would be five minutes late. Or more. The dating rules were very specific.
Just as I was doubting the option of setting my watch by her (or phone, who uses watches in 2015?) she arrived.
She had done something, without a doubt. Also in a different pair of jeans that were tighter than her usual, a light pink top that was covered in ruffles and bared her midriff, she was looking simply amazing. She had done something to her face; there had to be makeup there, but I couldn't really see it. What I couldn't see however, made her look like a movie star... or one of those, the almost disgustingly gorgeous heroes they sell posters of.
“Hello.”
It took a few tries to get the word out through my suddenly desert sand dry mouth. It was mildly comforting that her response seemed to take a few tries too, and for the same reason.
“Hey. So, what movie are we going to watch?”
“Not sure. Let's find out.”
I pretended not to notice the twitch in her cheek. So it was spur of the moment? Why would she be mad about that? I mean, it still counted as a date, right?
It turned out the only new movie in the theater (i.e. the only one we hadn't seen) was the new Jurassic park movie. I looked at her and shrugged. She looked at me and shrugged. We looked at the pimply faced gangly eighteen year old manning the theater and shrugged together. He rang us up and gave us our tickets. Of course, I paid.
I even did something that I almost never do at any movie anymore. I paid for a large tub of popcorn and two drinks. Which somehow cost as much as our dinner after the movie would be. But Jamie had a fondness for actual movie theater popcorn, too much salt and all. So it was mostly for her.
The movie started, after a good twenty minutes of ads and coming attractions. I didn't even bother disguising the whole “put my arm around the girl” move. A move I had considered using on Jamie before but never had the courage to complete. She didn't clock me for it.
She did, in fact snuggle a bit closer, which gave me a whiff of a rather light but heady scent I'd never smelled before. New perfume to go with the new make-up and clothes, no doubt.
The movie was simply another Jurassic Park movie. I must admit I wasn't giving it my full attention, but if you've seen cgi and animatronic dinosaurs kill one group of people, you really have seen all the movies of the type. Same movie, flashier special effects. The sort of movie you only remember when it's your first date.
I could wish it to be something more intellectually stimulating, but it is what it is. Finally having eyes for other people, I looked around. There were only a few people here, the movie had been running for a month already, and most of the people who wanted to see it already had. There were a few classmates I recognized, however.
Amy Milsner and Daniel Lorenzo, notably.
Amy and David were our resident golden couple. In middle school he was the basketball player with the golden 3-point shot, and she was the queen bee cheerleader. They both seemed well on their way to continuing the trend in high school. Amy had tried out for the cheer squad (such as it was) today, the very first day of school. David had had the school coach at his locker before he even put his first period books away in it.
Rumor had it that he might see scouts this year; talent scouts were beginning to rob the cradle in order to get to impressionable minds first. Luckily I didn't have to deal with that; there were no crazy scholastic quiz groups looking to recruit me for extreme spelling or trivia answering or whatever.
And while Jamie might take up track, chances were she wouldn't join the cheer squad. She hated Amy with a passion. I wasn't sure why; Jamie never said. I asked once after a particularly bad cat fight the two had, and she just hissed curses and ignored me.
I don't think I'd ever understand girls. If two guys have problems they can't talk out, we'd just beat on each other until we couldn't anymore. Then shake hands and walk away, agreeing to disagree. Girls didn't do that. I wasn't too sure I wanted to know how they handled their problems with each other.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Jamie had noticed my lapse of attention. It would be suicide to tell her I was thinking about her feud with Amy. I wasn't that crazy.
“Was just thinking that so far this date doesn't feel all that different from what we normally do... which means I'm going to have to try harder.”
She'd been about to punch me for the first half of my statement when her brain caught up to the second part. Her eyes widened as I gathered her up, lifting her off the ground carefully, and kissed her. I had to let up when I started seeing spots.
From the look of her, Jamie was having trouble breathing too, but she was very reluctant to break it up. Not bad for our first kiss. Jamie summed it up nicely.
“...Well.”
Well indeed.
“On to food! I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”
“Of course, I haven't had anything since that crap mockingly called a lunch at school; that will teach me, tomorrow I make my own.”
I couldn't resist.
“You mean the large tub of popcorn you pretty much ate alone doesn't count?”
She smacked me in the arm with a smile.
“Of course not! Popcorn never counts.”
“I'll have to remember that.”
Monty's was a run down little place that tried very hard to look like a trendy bistro when it opened... in the 90's. It had a sort of dilapidated retro hipster vibe that might have gone over well in New York or San Francisco. But for all of that, the food was great. The owner, Monty, was actually an immigrant from Italy who trained as a chef there.
He, mom, and I all had quite a bit in common. He loved talking to my mom about the 'old country' and Spain, both places they had shared. He was a friendly yet small and dumpy looking man in his late forties, balding and ruddy faced. Mom often laughed that he looked like an ugly Danny DeVito. He laughed along.
I felt they needed to date too, but Monty just laughed when I suggested it. Worst that could happen is she says no, right?
I honestly thought I wouldn't understand adults either. Even when I became one. Mom told me eventually it would all make sense, but I think she was pulling my chain. She was forever coming home, complaining that her clients made no sense at all. A few situations she even explained to me; they didn't make sense to me either.
Why would anyone, for example, hire a public relations agent then give a press conference without them? It seemed a common story... was it just a status thing among the elite? I shrugged; they paid well at least; my college fund was pretty well set.
We finally got seated, Monty's was always busy. I avoided an elbow in the ribs for woolgathering only due to Jamie's own distraction. That seemed ominous.
“Anything wrong?”
“I thought you said this was spontaneous. We only had to wait on the hostess.”
Well, I should have known she'd catch that. I couldn't even lie and say I knew Monty; we all did. He was a local fixture.
“Well, I never did come right out and say it was spontaneous. You merely assumed it. I've been thinking about asking you out for six months. The time just seemed right today. Well, that and Monty wouldn't be too mad if I made reservations and didn't show.”
“Oh?”
I nodded as we sat in a nice out of the way booth.
“Yeah, Monty really does like me. All I'd have to do is explain what a gutless wonder I was for not asking you out and apologize. He wouldn't hold a grudge.”
Jamie nodded and gave me a critical once over.
“Now that I believe, everyone likes you. And the pitiful act always scores points with anyone not made of stone.”
“Even better if it isn't an act.”
We were interrupted when the waitress came to take our order. I didn't even wince as Jamie ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.
..........
I scrubbed a tear from my eye into the hood of my hoodie as the line once again started to move, angry. How could something that started so beautifully end so horribly? That was the question I had asked myself day after day. Even knowing the world was unfair, the question just seemed to loom, larger than life in my head. It demanded an answer.
Of course, I had no answer for it. I really hoped a good answer existed; I didn't like the one my mind was coming up with.
It seemed as if the MCO agent was finally going to pull me out. I had half hoped he would just do a quick check, but it seemed as if that was just wishful thinking.
“Excuse me, ma'am, could you come with me please?”
The MCO agent, an older man not much larger than I was with a battered but pleasant face framed by light brown hair setting off hazel eyes. He was dressed in a very well made but unfortunately brown suit, with a white shirt and cream colored tie, both of which I suspected to be silk.
The two large burly guys, both cast from the same blond haired possibly blue eyed bodybuilder mold, standing Goliath tall to my meager David. They were standing exactly one step behind the agent in charge, to the right and left respectively.
They weren't necessary. I wouldn't cause any trouble. I couldn't, even if I wanted to.
The MCO agent led the way, the two flunkies a looming presence behind me as I followed. Against my will, I started remembering the tales of the MCO that my mentor had told me secondhand. It was all too easy to believe them when being led around like this; but if I were on the other side, wouldn't I want help in case an evil mutant decided to go crazy?
Of course I would. If I had had some help on that night, then life would be better for so many people, myself included. All the same, I had one hand on my new phone, caressing the panic button toggle installed in it.
A precaution my mentor had pressed unwillingly into my hand, but I was thankful for it now, being led into a small nondescript conference room. It was decorated in tan carpet and fake wood molding; the agent seemed to be very much a piece with the place. There were two chairs, one on either side of the table, both wood and plastic.
The room reminded me so much of the police interrogation room in Palo Medara that I had to fight the deja vu... and the unpleasant feelings.
The two goons got impatient, and guided me gently, but firmly, to the other chair. I was now facing the agent and facing away from them and the door. It did not do much for my nerves.
“Alright, MID?”
I took it out of my wallet (inside my hoodie pocket, my mentor had wanted me to use a purse but I didn't really see the point) and slid it over, pulling my hood down so that the agent could get a good glimpse of me. He would ask or have it done anyway, there was no sense fighting it.
“Ahh, Lapin. Your destination is Boston, via New York?"
I nodded, trying to keep my ears down. They kept wanting to stretch. Having your ears kink like the muscles in your back, and wanting to stretch was beyond annoying. But I didn't want to draw attention to them.
A hopeless effort, to be sure. The damn things were huge. They reached my shoulder blades when folded down, and I could stretch fit my hand into one... though thankfully not lengthwise.
The Agent reached under the table and brought out a file. A quick glance told me it was mine, with my real name on it.
“I'm sorry, I forgot to give you my name. I'm agent Donnely. I'll be using your code name, as we're being filmed. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, agent Berkowitz?”
I couldn't help it, the relief of some of the stress made my stupid ears pop up though I managed to stop them from going completely vertical.
“You know agent Berkowitz?”
He nodded with a smile.
“He trained me. We used to work the field office in L.A. together. So let's see... it says here you have a set of gadgets as equipment?”
I nodded, ears safely down again.
“Yes, my ears are sensitive. The gadgets are clips that attach to them and dampen or cancel noise.”
“May I see one?”
He had his hand out. For all that it was a polite question, it seemed I would just have to bear with it.
“Alright.”
A quick click on the latch of the one on my right ear and it came right off. I winced a bit as I started hearing the planes taking off. Apparently we weren't as far from the tarmac as I'd thought. Or my ears were getting worse, which really didn't even bear thinking about.
Agent Donnely took my clip, and scanned it with a hand-held detector, also pulled from under the table. What did he have under there? I thought maybe just a small file cabinet at first. But there had to be more....
“Alright, that's all I need. Thank you.”
He passed the clip back, and I wasted no time putting it back in place.
“Now, I really hate to do this... but we need to perform a search.”
He held up his hands in a hurry.
“No, none of us will be doing it. My partner, Agent Lyons, Will be doing it. Normally we would just scan you with one of the new airport scanners, but this is Redding, and we don't have the resources of a full blown city.”
My quick glance at the hand-held scanner was caught.
“That isn't the airports, it's ours. We haven't been granted the authority to install our own technology in airports from the courts yet. The best I can do is this hand-held unit, and it lacks the power to do a full scan. Rest assured, agent Lyons is a professional.”
Whatever. I really didn't think I dared refuse. Though that panic button was looking better and better.
“Um, could we please hurry this up at least? I really don't want to miss my flight.”
He stood up.
“Certainly, I'll send her right in. For obvious legal reasons, we can't be present for this, so we'll just wait outside.”
Translation: you start anything, and we will be ready to bust you. Message received, loud and clear. Vaguely threatening, but still very polite. Just like normal airport security nowadays, according to the internet. So far it was nothing like the horror stories told online of the MCO. I hoped it stayed that way.
The woman who walked in after the other 3 walked out was the very picture of a 'battle-ax'. A middle-aged woman who looked as if she sucked lemons all day. Her hair was the color of dishwater, and her eyes matched.
She was built like a body builder and probably six feet tall; the sharp gray silk suit she wore (with pants, not a skirt) looked too small on her. As if she could, with a quick flex, rip her clothes like the hulk. She was carrying in a screen, of all things. One of those unfolding screens that women used to change clothes behind for privacy.
She took one look at me and transformed with a smile. The sour look became a rather cute face if a little stress lined. Her body did not change, and yet somehow seemed less threatening. Body language perhaps? Her voice was a bit scratchy but had a low sultry tone that many women would envy.
She stopped as soon as she closed the door and gave me a once over.
“Well. Typical. Still, it could be worse. At least, you aren't a beach Barbie.”
I blushed. I knew what she was talking about; one of the few powers I'd gained from my life being ruined was one I never wanted. Somewhere out there, there were at least a few guys having wet dreams... and those wet dreams looked like me.
“Alright alright missie, behind the screen and take off your clothes. We don't want to give the cameras a free show, but you don't have anything I haven't seen before.”
“Nothing at all?”
I flicked my tail to make my point. To my surprise, she nodded with a smile.
“Nothing. I've seen both the spade shape you have, and the cotton tail. You aren't as rare a BIT as you think you are.”
Through the relief, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. That my BIT wasn't rare meant that many people thought it was the most attractive they could be, inhuman features and all. My mentor certainly had. Maybe I would even meet more at my new school.
I could only hope they didn't suffer all the problems of my, or my mentor's, Body Image Template. Meeting another mutant that did would likely be a disaster.
Once behind the screen, I made it as quick as possible. I had a slight hesitation at the underwear, but with agent Lyons looking at me expectantly I realized this was going to be the full treatment. She looked over my clothes for knives or something while I stood there, waiting and getting cold. I was just settling into the idea of being probed in unpleasant ways when she spoke with unfeigned cheer:
“Alright, we're done.”
“What? You're not going to...”
She shook her head, grinning at my shock.
“I don't really want to do that sort of thing, any more than you want it done. No one can see what goes on behind the screen here, so let's just agree I gave you a thorough check and leave it at that? You aren't silly enough to try and blow up a plane you're on with c4 smuggled someplace unpleasant, are you?”
I shook my head, trying and failing to force my grin down. She pointed to my silver crucifix.
“Right, a proper catholic. Go ahead and dress. I have to watch; regulations being what they are, but I can do that from over here.”
And she actually propped herself in the nearest corner, humming and rather pointedly looking at anything but me. For my part, I dressed just as quickly. There was no clock in the room; a management decision designed to keep complaints about time wasted by the airlines down, no doubt.
“May I ask you what time it is?”
She actually looked at a watch she was wearing. A rare person, to still use one of those.
“You've got about 15 minutes.”
Crap!
Despite my rush, I helped her fold up the screen. It was the polite thing to do after all, and they wouldn't let me run to my plane in any case. That would just set off all kinds of red flags. My luggage was waiting on me, in agent Donnely's hands. I just nodded at him. I knew he would have to search it, but I had nothing incriminating and nothing really embarrassing to hide. I was sure he'd seen underwear before in his line of work, after all. Even the ones my mentor had insisted in giving me.
“Don't worry, we put everything back the way it was! We aren't like the sky cops!”
To my surprise, Agent Donnely took off, jogging at a brisk pace down the hall. He motioned me to follow.
“We have less than 15 minutes to get you halfway across the airport and to your plane before it takes off. With crowds being what they are, we better hurry.”
I caught up rather easily; the one thing I had gained out of my recent disasters, was inhuman speed. And agility; dodging people in crowds was easy. A quick glance back showed things one and two still behind me, keeping pace easily themselves. They also managed to avoid people, mainly because people parted for them like the red sea for Moses. Agent Donnely and I just lacked that sort of presence.
It was mildly odd that two big guys could keep up with us, though; I had to wonder if their suits hid some sort of secret.
The airport wasn't that large, luckily. With Agent Donnely expediting things for airport security, we managed to make it just as final boarding was called. My bags checked I turned to Agent Donnely from inside the jetway (I didn't want to give him the chance to change his mind).
“Thank you.”
I knew he was only doing his job, and it could have been much worse.
“You're welcome. Enjoy your flight.”
I waved and walked past the vapidly smiling stewardess. I was in seat 49 – economy class, but a window seat. Something I was thankful for. The flight was long, and I wanted a view. This was my first time flying, after all.
Well, flying in a plane, at any rate; the other way I was usually too busy panicking and screaming to look around. Hopefully this way would be different. The people in the plane were too busy settling in to pay much attention to me, luckily enough. I was getting sick of being stared at already.
Unluckily, since I was so late the seats to the side of mine were already filled, which meant I would be disturbing some people. The aisle seat was taken by a rather well-built guy around college age, sporting a UCLA jacket, and a matching cap worn in reverse.
He was raven haired like me, with dark blue eyes and a chiseled chin. I guess he was kind of handsome if you liked the dopey frat guy look.
The middle seat was taken by a man in a well-tailored business suit, in shades of gray. He had blonde hair just starting to whiten up, and surprisingly boyish looks for his obvious age. He also had a briefcase in his lap and a phone in his hand. I think one of the stewardesses had just told him to hang it up, judging by the sour expression.
My soon to be seatmates were both looking up at me curiously, and the angle they had let them see at least a little of my face. That meant I had to be very careful when putting up my carry on; I didn't want to dislodge my hood or raise the bottom of the hoodie up far enough to reveal my stupid tail.
“Excuse me please.”
Luggage handled and etiquette handled, I had to work my way to my seat... with my butt towards the seats in front of us, for the same reason. The frat boy kept trying to peek under the hood but I don't think he saw much.
I was pretty sure from the look of shock that the businessman saw more than I had, strictly speaking, wanted him to. He recovered quickly enough, opening his laptop after I passed and very carefully sat down. If not for the glances he was shooting my way as the plane got battened down to take off, I would have said he was over it. He certainly acted nonchalant, but I was a trifle too observant for that to work anymore.
I was all too used to those types of glances now. The type that all but shouted 'is she dangerous?' or 'should I yell for help?'
If I thought it would help, I'd wear a sign that just read “no, not dangerous”. Knowing my luck, people would just suspect it to be a trick. Disguising myself as much as I possibly could seemed the wiser course.
But of course, that only worked as long as no one got close enough. I turned to look out the window, not wanting to see the wary caution (or worse, the blatant disgust) creep over another face like a poisonous mold.
With a jolt the plane started to move, the cracked tarmac rolling under it in a blur. Only nine hours to go until Boston. Each minute ticking past seemed like an eternity.
............
Agent Donnely sipped at some truly nasty coffee as he watched the plane take off with his partner, agent Lyons, and their boss.
“Well?”
That one was directed at him.
“The bug is planted. The offices along her route have all been called. They are playing ball.”
“Good. The last thing we need is for her to get pulled from her flight path and disappear. She's too valuable to us at the moment, what with the truly abysmal publicity, some of the other offices have garnered lately. We want the reporters waiting for her to hear nothing but glowing reports of us.”
That was a bit confusing.
“Will there be reporters present? I thought the press vultures were done picking over this particular carcass.”
“Of course there will; I called them after all. It'll make a good story for them, and a better one for us... provided it isn't botched. Lyons?”
Her report was much what his would have been.
“She's a good kid. It's a shame what happened to her. But her opinion of us is unshaken. She views us as a professional arm of authority. Allowing Berkowitz to handle her case has paid dividends.”
The boss cleared his throat and sipped his own coffee, a much better blend than Donnely's.
“Yes, Berkowitz is a fool, but a useful one. His honesty can make things very easy for us when used correctly. “
Donnely nodded, remembering L.A. The boss spoke up again, derailing that train of thought.
“But what I was really asking is, how is she?”
Lyons thought back.
“She's still in shock. She's a kid that respects authority, very rare nowadays. But even past that she never even made a peep when Donnely proposed the strip search. That's pretty rare among Americans. She also went along with my own suggestions readily enough, though she almost demanded I search her to prove her innocence. She's still naive enough to be useful.”
The boss nodded.
“Whateley might even be good for her.”
Lyons turned to him, astonished. Donnely knew the boss better.
“Sir?”
“What Lyons? I can still hope she gets the help she needs, even as we use her. The two objectives are not mutually exclusive. Whateley is one of the best places in the country for her.”
He rounded on Lyons.
“Berkowitz may be a fool, but he was right about one thing. Despite her appearance, she's one of ours done very wrong. Yes, we can use that. Yes, we will use that. We owe it to humanity to get the word out, But that's no reason to deny her such a life as she can make. There but for the grace of God, after all.”
Donnely noticed that Lyons look of chastisement was fake, but he didn't think the boss knew. It didn't matter anyway, Lyons was in this up to her neck already. She wouldn't compromise the plan. The boss then ignored them both in favor of looking at the scans from the new machine set in the hallway leading to the MCO's conference room, where they conducted their searches.
The scan showed no hidden weapons or explosives, no drugs or other contraband of any kind. Just the phone they already knew she carried; a gift from her somewhat unfortunate mentor in Redding.
Better safe than sorry, though, after all. They weren't the only ones trying to use the poor girl.
...........
It took less than twenty minutes for me to be bored to tears by the view from the plane's window seat. The only thing I had on me was my phone. Sure it could double as a small movie theater or music player... but I only had one movie on it, that I'd seen more than once, and my music would hardly divert me.
I needed a book. I had planned to bring one from the airport, but I simply hadn't had the time to buy one. I blamed Ibby, and would tell her so the moment I could text. Mainly because there wasn't much else to do.
I tried not to pry by staring at what the businessman was doing on his laptop, opened again as soon as he had been given the all clear. It was pretty hard though. Being bored sucked. With nothing else to do I took out my phone.
It had started out its life as a Galaxy 4, but it only barely resembled one now. For one, it looked to be made of metal, not plastic. And thick metal at that; it had the heft one would expect of a paperweight. Ibby had said it was made for flying brick use when I asked. It also had a large red oblong button set clearly on its left side.
It was Ibby's older phone and on her network. For all that, it was not standard and therefore as good as any phone currently on the market. Or at least, that's what her nerd friend had attempted to tell me. I didn't really care; it had been better than the phone I had been using, which hadn't survived the first panicked flight I had been dragged on.
I texted: “Made it, in the air and headed to JFK.” I used full words, hating that alphabet soup most people turned texts into. Who cares if it takes longer if you don't have to explain to someone on the other end what it all means? Explanations always take longer.
An icon popped up, a bunny girl strolling across the screen with a wave. Then the answer came:
“Good. Call me again when you reach New York, or if there's trouble.”
I knew how busy she was, but there was more than a hint of the idea that she'd drop it all to help as best she could. I really liked Ibby, despite her nature. I liked her so much I refused to call her that ridiculous name the public knew her by, even if she'd picked it herself.
It was even worse than mine, and I'd done the best I could. I will never understand the '70's for as long as I live. It was almost as incomprehensible as adults... or girls.
Damn it to hell. Why can't I move on? Why can't I just stop thinking about it, about her? What was wrong with me?
Needing to distract myself before the waterworks started again, I glanced over to see what my seatmates were doing. The frat boy was watching a netbook, thankfully with very good noise canceling headphones on, and the businessman. He was watching me, with frank interest. On his laptop was a copy of the chronicle, from about two months ago. I recognized it. Mainly because I was on the front page, in my new form, with no disguise. Stupid floppy ears and pain both visible for the entire world to see.
“That's you, isn't it? I mean, you're her, aren't you? I mean...”
I decided to bail him out before he could dig deeper.
“Yes, that's me. Could you please not tell anyone you recognized me? I'm trying to avoid trouble.”
He pondered that for a moment, before a calculating look I didn't like stole over his face. It made him look kind of like the vampire in that old German movie, only with hair.
“I will if you do one thing for me.”
Oh, this couldn't be good.
“What's that?”
He waved at his computer.
“Tell me the truth. What really happened?”
If I remembered the Chronicle right, it was basically way off in its reporting of the situation; and that's if I wanted to be generous. They basically lied, like the rag they were, after telling my mom they would tell the truth.
As for this guy, I'd met his type before. Ghouls, always sniffing around for the closets where the skeletons were buried. They made perfect paparazzi or celebrity headhunters, having an instinct for digging up dirt and a nose for blood. At least, this one didn't have a camera. With luck, he wasn't a professional at it.
Now the Times, oddly enough, got it right the first time and stuck with it.
“Well, it didn't happen like the Chronicle said, that's for sure. I wasn't doing anything shady. It's a long story. Really long, are you sure you want to...?”
He nodded.
“If you would. I'm sorry, but I'm curious. And we have nothing but time. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you my life story if you tell me yours. Then we will be even.”
“I'm not sure I...”
“Please. I'd just like to hear your side of the story, without any spin. Please.”
Well, the worst that could happen if I told him was he'd listen to me, hear the truth, and then blame me anyway. He wouldn't be the first, and likely wouldn't be the last. I always thought the truth was its own shield before all this. But it turns out that the truth is always the first casualty of any situation. The first casualty of life itself.
“Well, the Chronicle got it wrong; I didn't do anything to her. It all started when....”
.............
Jamie was sick.
We'd been going out for months, strictly slow and steady. Her father Flynn seemed to like me, despite the old gun polishing trick he pulled after our first date. The impact of that maneuver was diminished somewhat by the fact that he and I had known each other for years and got along. I didn't begrudge him the attempt, though, he'd probably been dreaming of pulling that trick since Jamie was in diapers.
Jamie's father Flynn was a careworn looking man; average height and bald, he had eyebrows like caterpillars creeping across his face. He dutifully worked out every week in his garage; sometimes I joined him. He was still just barely fit. He worked long hours.
Jamie's mom Sydney looked much like you expected a trophy wife to look; blond and fit, attractive and younger; the only problem is she was an art dealer for the local museum. She made more money than he did, and they loved each other.
Jamie's mom Sydney was in the background, wringing her hands. The quietly proud father Flynn, a man I knew and liked, had the door cracked but his body against it, denying me entry. Both had expressions of worry that were doing nothing to ease my mind.
“She's still too ill, Luke. She just can't have guests.”
She had been too sick for school or guests for three days. She still wasn't in a hospital. Something was very wrong here.
“Mr. Howe, I understand and will accept that she might be contagious. If I get sick, it's my own fault. But this is the third time. Mom and I are both very worried, and we will take the risk. I won't be leaving this time without seeing her. I will not.”
And I shifted, leaning up against the door jamb.
Mr. Howe sighed and nodded, opening the door.
The inside was like something from the twilight zone.
The Howe home was much like my own family's; upper middle class, with tasteful (if a bit more ostentatious) furnishings and in good repair. Usually it was a little messy, as Mrs. Howe was not the most scrupulous housekeeper.
Tonight it was spotless. Everything gleamed, from the floor up. I felt almost guilty stepping on it. The smell of cleansers and antiseptics hit like a physical blow a single step inside. Mrs. Howe had a bucket in hand, rubber gloves on, and had obviously been cleaning when I knocked.
The mix of whatever she was using was slightly orange colored... and clean except for that taint. It was not the source of the smell, which seemed to come from all sides.
Mr. Howe up close was just as shocking, he could overpower the cleanser smell himself. Disheveled and slightly shaky, his clothes were stained with spilled coffee and looked slept in. It was obvious he hadn't showered in days.
Whatever it meant, I couldn't be good. I hit the stairs two at a time without a word.
I couldn't stop a slight hesitation upon reaching Jamie's door, however. What if she was asleep... or really didn't want to see me?
Stupid, then she could just tell me so herself.
A soft knock in case she really was asleep, and it was answered almost immediately.
“Go away dad, I don't want to hear whatever bullshit you want to spew at me today.”
What? Jamie was hardly the most polite or reverent girl (a fact I knew and loved from experience) but she wasn't normally angry enough to spout such venom at her parents. Especially her father; she was very much a 'daddy's girl'.
“Jamie? It's Luke.”
The door was flung open and Jamie stood there, staring as if not quite believing her eyes. She was a mess; her hair tangled and unwashed, old tear tracks still visible, especially around eyes bruised from lack of sleep. Those self-same eyes that were no longer the deep aquamarine I lost myself in on many an occasion.
Her bloodshot eyes were an almost neon amber. I was fairly sure they weren't contacts; it explained so very much.
“So... I was told you were sick. How are you?”
Yes it was lame; it was the best I could do. Suddenly realizing your girlfriend was a mutant is shocking. More shocking than a random punch to the gut. I've felt that too, there is no comparison. She looked into my eyes for a moment, tears forming like sparkling dew. What she saw seemed to open the floodgates; she almost knocked me over in her haste to crush me in a hug. And it was fairly crushing.
“Jamie, ease up a little, OK? I can't breathe. Let's go into your room and talk, alright?”
Mr. and Mrs. Howe were at the staircase listening, and normally I wouldn't suggest such a thing in their presence. But something more than a mutation happened here, and I wanted to know what. They didn't object as Jamie led me into her room.
I was beginning to get the picture I think, and it wasn't a picture I liked. With a last glare, Jamie closed the door on her parents and turned to me. She looked lost. I did not like that look at all.
“So what's with the twilight zone out there?”
“Well, I'm a mutant.”
“Yeah, and?”
She looked at me, mouth agape. I decided to move the conversation along.
“So, was the whole line about you being sick a lie?”
She shook her head with more than a touch of exasperation.
“No, I was sick a few days ago; flu like symptoms... then my eyes changed. Doctor Hubbard confirmed I was mutant yesterday.”
Hmm, confirmation implied something other than an eye change happened.
“So you displayed a power of some sort?”
Wordlessly she handed over her Ipod. It was a mess; at least twice as big as a standard one, it had some sort of housing hanging off of it. I couldn't even begin to guess, so I had to ask.
“What's it do?”
“Well it's not an Ipod anymore, at least not fully. The addition pulls power from neighboring power lines to recharge the battery wirelessly.”
She saw the look I couldn't quite hide.
“I know, but apparently it's a real mutant power and everything. Dr. Hubbard called me a “devisor”. Which is a fancy way of saying I build weird things, apparently.”
I knew what devisors were. I was sort of glad Jamie didn't seem to. They did not have the best reputation.
“So when do you get tested?”
She plopped on the bed with a smile. I could tell she was happy I wasn't outright rejecting her – as if I could – but she was also pretty spent by the stress of it all. It made me want to march downstairs and lecture her parents. That picture I didn't like was getting more clear by the minute.
“In three more days. That was the earliest they could take me. Apparently while the local office has the facilities for testing, they don't have a dedicated specialist on the payroll. Too small for that. So one is driving up.”
The local office she referred to was the MCO. Around here, the MCO was called in at the request of the police to handle the cases of processing emerging mutants. They handled the testing and issuing of MID's, and worked with the police on cases involving mutants.
It was a well known fact that the MCO agents had no police powers themselves, and needed a police partner or escort in order to make arrests; Redding police issued that statement yearly in a public press release, and it hadn't changed in recent memory. Any mutant individuals which disappeared, criminal or not, would have the case of their disappearance investigated to the maximum extent the law allowed. I could quote that part from memory.
And it was suddenly pertinent.
“Do you need someone to go with you?”
It would be on a Saturday, after all. That look of pure gratitude she hit me with made me feel guilty, as if I had done something wrong. It also laced her voice pretty heavily when she spoke. A sort of fawning needy tone that had no place coming from her as she shot up again, taking both my hands in hers.
“Would you? Can you?”
I nodded.
“Sure, I don't think mom would mind. If necessary, I'm sure she'll drive us.”
That is, if your parents won't.
“I don't know, I'll have to ask.”
“I don't think that will be necessary, but I'd appreciate it if you did ask, just in case. So, um... what's been going on at school in by absence?”
And now she seemed almost... shy? I had to wrack my brain a little; I didn't really try to keep up with the politics. I led her over to her bed and gently sat her down, taking a seat myself next to her.
“Nothing much really. Rhonda took the gold in the track meet against Oakwood the other day. Doug Hawser, remember him? Well a couple joints got found in his locker; he's saying he was framed, but he's been suspended pending a hearing and investigation. That's about it.”
She stared at me wide-eyed. She also stared at where my hands were, wide-eyed. They were only on her shoulders, I didn't think I was moving too fast or anything! I certainly wouldn't dream of doing anything with her while her parents were listening on the other side of the door.
“You're not.....”
“Not what?”
She looked away, suddenly shy for the first time in her life.
“Tell me. What is it?”
I wouldn't be stupid enough to ask what was wrong; we both knew that already.
“You're not... afraid of me. Or disgusted, or anything....”
I should be offended, I really should. But what I am is confused. Doesn't she of all my peers, know me best? She should know me well enough by now to tell herself the truth of who I was.
“Why would I be? You're Jamie Howe, my girlfriend. You are as human as I am, and you aren't going to hurt anyone. As for disgust, what is there to be disgusted about? You aren't spewing slime out of every orifice or eating small fuzzy animals. And I'm pretty sure I'd love you even if you were.”
She was stronger than I remembered. The bed creaked alarmingly as she sidelined me into it, and I felt my ribs shift a bit. I managed to keep the grimace off my face with effort though. It wouldn't do to let her see that.
“You... Luke, you're an amazing human being, you know that, right?”
I shook my head with a grin.
“Don't tell me that, my head will get bigger than that super villain guy, what's his name? Gray Matter?”
“That guy is a devisor, like me.”
Her face was a bit troubled again. This would not do at all.
“Oh, does he fit as well in that bikini you wore to the beach last summer? I think not. Advantage, yours.”
She smacked me playfully in the arm, and I was pretty sure it would bruise. Unlike the hug of death, however, that was normal.
“Lech.”
“Only for you. Only for you.”
It was hard to make jokes with Jamie's tongue in my mouth. I almost tried before my own brain caught up to what we were doing.
“Alright Luke, you've made your point. You better get out of here before I do something my parents will make us regret.”
Taking the cue for what it was, her desire to be alone and think, I headed to the door. She didn't make that easy. I had to ask though,
“You'll be coming to school again, right?”
She grimaced.
“I think so, starting Monday. That is, unless there is a reason I shouldn't. I should be cleared, but if the testing reveals something else I may not be.”
Left unspoken was the kind of response she'd get in the area. If she got a lot of crap for being a mutant she and her family would likely have to move, or do something similar. That would not be good for anyone.
I wasn't an angry sort by nature, but if some H1 type retard wanted to start something, I would make that person very sorry they existed.
Walking outside into the street past her still gawking parents pissed me off more; hopefully they would get a clue. She was their daughter! The same person they raised; late genetic expression during puberty did not change that. Again, I had to stomp on the desire to give them a piece (or more) of my mind.
Their actions could only be hurting Jamie. They needed to wake up soon. It wasn't really my place to say, but maybe my mother could. She was a fellow adult, friend of the Howe's, and her words would have the weight that my own would lack. She after all, had dealt with mutants before; some of her clients were mutants.
She never brought any home, or let me meet them, but she never outright ranted against them either. If it turns out she had a hidden mutantphobia, I'd deal with her too.
A short walk to clear my head and I had the chance to ask her directly. She was on the couch, watching some meaningless cop drama or another that I had never gotten into, popcorn and a diet Pepsi on the coffee table in front of her. So I walked in without preamble and shot the question point blank; best way to get an honest response.
“Mom, how do you feel about mutants?”
I'd never asked her before; it hadn't been that important to either of us, so we just sort of ignored it. And just as expected of a verbal landmine, she tried her best to dodge the question in true parent fashion.
“Why do you ask?”
“No you don't; no dodging. Answer the question before asking one of your own. I'll answer yours after you answer mine.”
She shot me an arch look, raised eyebrow and all, but relented.
“Well I've met a few, there are quite a few mutants who come to me for image advice. I've met good ones, and bad ones. My own opinion is that they are people, with just a few extras that can make them more dangerous. I try to treat them as such.”
Now I was curious.
“Have any of the bad ones tried to do bad things to you? Like threaten you over your fees and stuff?”
“Attack a PR consultant? Are you crazy? Even if they killed me I would make them very sorry, and they know that. It's really no worse than working for the Italians.”
Mom means the mob here, I'm sure... though she never comes right out and says so. I also know she means the actual Italian mafia, in Italy and Spain. She certainly did not do work for them here, or she would have told me. I wasn't a fan of how nonchalantly she spoke of one of them killing her though.
“So your turn.”
I plopped down on the couch next to her.
“Turns out Jamie is one.”
And contact! The landmine went off! It took a minute for her to fully process what I was saying, then her response was gratifying. At least, in a way.
“...Oh. Whew, I thought you were going to say you were one. I wasn't looking forward to that fiery nature of yours burning down the house or something similar. Do they know which kind she is? What powers she has?”
“A devisor, she says. A type of mutant that builds things.”
She didn't even hesitate; I guess she really did have some experience with mutants.
“That's a bit rough, I've dealt with devisors before. Some of them are a little... off. You planning to continue your relationship?”
Counter landmine detonated.
“Of course! How could you even think I wouldn't? She needs me now more than ever.”
For the second time tonight, I was wrapped in a hug, though this one was less... predatory. What is it with females and hugs? Was there a hug gene somewhere in our DNA that made women more touchy-feely?
“I'm proud of you, Luke. It's times like these that I remember I raised you right.”
Well of course she did.
“Apples and trees, Mom. But that reminds me, you need to have a word with the Howes. Tell them what to expect, and that sort of thing. They like you and know about your job, so they will be more likely to listen to you.”
Once again, she got to the heart of the matter with just a glance.
“How bad?”
“They are avoiding her, and haven't let her go to school. They did call the MCO however, and have an appointment for powers testing on Saturday. Mrs Howe has probably been cleaning mostly non-stop the last 3 days, and if Mr Howe has showered at all, I'm Joan of Arc.”
“Wow... that's... bad. Alright, you can relax, I'll take care of it.”
And just like that, while still standing over me her gaze started to cut like jagged glass.
“But you, I know what you're thinking. I'll handle it, you will go to school tomorrow, and do your homework, and all your chores tomorrow. Only then will you be allowed to go see Jamie. If I find out you cut something, and lied to me about it, your punishment will be something ballads are made from. Got me?”
“I got you, I got you. I promise, I'll do everything first.”
I could cut a few corners... after all my GPA was perfect, so a few sloppy assignments wouldn't do me in. And if I did tomorrows chores today then I'd be done already. The perfect crime! Of course I still had to do tonight's. Dishes first, right after dinner itself, which I had missed.
Luckily mom was pretty lax about that, missing more than a few herself, so she just made me a plate and put things away. I could microwave it whenever I got home. In this case dinner was still warm however, so I skipped that.
.......
I took a moment to flag a stewardess down and ask for a diet Pepsi. I had already done more than my fair share of talking, and had my audience of one in rapt attention, but my throat was beginning to suffer for it, even as softly as I was speaking.
The way the office type was leaning forward, I could tell either that he was having a hard time hearing me, or was hanging on my every word. Maybe it was both.
Well, my therapist had recommended talking about this, even to random strangers on a long flight. I didn't understand it, but when psychologists agree that talking about my crappy life to anyone who shows even a particle of interest; who was I to argue?
It didn't make it any easier... but talking things out to this man felt good. Natural. I would have suspected he was a mutant himself except the MCO had never pulled him out of line; he was ahead of me until my own bout with the MCO and airport security, and they had let him right on through.
It was more than a little confusing though; the compulsion to tell a complete stranger more of your life than anyone else knew. I seemed to remember reading something about such bonding on planes before, but actually experiencing it was... weird. And the cathartic release and hairline break in my normally iron control made me very nervous. I hope I hadn't been slipped something, somewhere.
Or worse, my meds were no longer working.
That really didn't bear thinking about. Especially on a plane. So I didn't, another long drink to make sure of the throat and I dove right back in.
...........
On Saturday I woke early. Today was the day we found out if Jamie was a dangerous threat to humanity or not. I had been to her house every day since finding out, and often stayed late. Anything I could do to help ease her stress.
Her parents had finally seemed to realize the world hadn’t ended; they were getting a little better each day, and seemed less inclined to shut Jamie up in her room than before. I never asked why they did it, and they didn't tell me, but that ended the day after I told mom.
She actually took time off from her job in order to go to their house and talk to them. It only took an hour, and I don't know what she said, but while still a little twitchy, they stopped acting like pod people. Well, mostly. I still wasn't ready to cut them any slack... they are parents, they should know better. But mom ironically enough had raised me right, so I was too polite to say so to their face. Well at least since the problem was solved.
They had recovered enough to drive her to her appointment at least; mom had offered and the Howes had declined. They hadn't even made a peep when I said I was going though. They knew I'd given my word, they had been listening in. Which meant that even if I had to follow on my bike, an old off-road trail bicycle I never rode anymore, I would.
Of course I wouldn't need to; mom would get in her car and drive me; we would follow them the entire way, and they knew that. I was still a little worried that they would try to leave early and therefore leave me behind. So I was up.
I just wish I knew what they were afraid of.
Afraid for their daughter, now aligned against H1 and the more rabid people in the world... or afraid of their daughter, who was now one of the few but empowered? Maybe it was both at once? But that was really ridiculous.
For whatever reason, I felt they didn't want me to know anything about the new Jamie. Like they were trying to keep us apart. I would not accept that, we had been steady too long, had been best friends since mom and I moved from Providence far before that, and I wouldn't take no for an answer.
Dressing was easy, all weekend clothes; old jeans and a T-shirt, a jacket just in case; it was likely to get a little chilly. I was not the only one up, or the first. Mom was at the kitchen table in her ratty gray robe, reading the file of a client of hers, coffee steaming in front of her. She had the most amusing bed head going on. Pointing that out was something I'd do... once I had a head start out the door.
The appointment was for nine sharp, and it required a drive into Redding proper which took about forty minutes. Which meant to be polite, I should show up just slightly after 8am. It was just now 6am, and I was anticipating knocking on Jamie's door by 7.
Some Raisin Bran and a Pepsi were the breakfast of champions. I didn't want to waste time with ham and eggs... mom already had, but hadn't made me any. A curious loophole in our 'whenever meal schedule remained breakfast on the weekends. At least she no longer griped about my substitution of Pepsi in place of the juice she favored.
At least, not after the time I used one instead of milk on my cereal. That had really disturbed her. It wasn't even good, but I had been making a statement. Besides, I didn't mess with her coffee; everyone knew how bad that crap was for you!
The blind eye I turned towards her Twinkies stash was probably a help too. How she could like those was something harder to understand than the coffee.
I put the dishes in the sink and went up to brush my teeth. Only the ones you want to keep, right? A few brush strokes through my hair and I was ready to go. With far too long left to wait.
So I took out the garbage out. A day early, but who cared? We had metal cans to keep the critters from getting into the trash so it was no problem. Then I did the morning's dishes... all 8 of them. Then I vacuumed the living room carpet, complete with moving the furniture. Mom would likely yell at me otherwise.
“Luke.”
Right on time. Did she see me skip the little end table?
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Stop, seriously. Just watching you is giving me hives. Just sit down and watch TV or something normal for a bit.”
I checked the clock again. Still about a half hour. But TV sucked. Of course, all my homework was done last night, even that essay. Whoever heard of a 500 word essay? That's like... a blurb. Literally just a few paragraphs.
Cartoons, cartoons, cartoons... hey. A political discussion. This one on mutants in politics. With a round table discussion no less. A democrat, a Republican, a Libertarian, some MCO official or other, and the token H1 nut-job. The H1 nut-job managed to clean up the best in an expensive suit and slicked back hair, but I wasn't fooled.
So, no doubt like many people tuning in, I waited for the inevitable blow up. As usual the Republican started it with a simple observation.
“An American born mutant is a human being and a citizen of the United States. As such, any hypothetical mutant that meets the requirements can run for and hold office. That's the law. If you want to keep a mutant from holding office, then work on changing the law, not picketing polling places or engaging in strong arm tactics.”
All that said in a calm reasonable tone of voice, as if he wasn't lobbing a verbal Molotov into a metaphorical theater.
As the H1 nut started to froth at the mouth and scream, I turned it off. It was time, or close enough. I made sure to grab a book, just in case. You could never tell when you would need a good book, and I expected to do a fair amount of waiting.
A quick thought and I brought one for Jamie too. She wouldn't remember, and she might have to wait as well. Mom came in but didn't look interested in the TV, so I left it off, grabbed my phone from the small table beside the door, and left.
The morning air was more bracing than chilly; which meant that in an hour or two it would be a bit hot for a jacket. I was still glad I brought one; my books were small enough to fit in the pockets. With my phone in my front pocket it meant my hands were free.
My battered bike was wobbly, and riding it hands-free was taking your life into your hands. In a few months though, mom had all but promised me a car of my choice outright. Well, nothing new, but any used car I wanted. I don't think she wanted to risk me cracking up a brand new one.
I was going to sneak in a sports car, provided she chose her words wrong. I really wanted a Porsche of some kind, like an old Boxter or something. Until then, I could make do with my bike. I couldn't wait for the end of a waste of time spent biking, and greater freedom.
You needed some kind of transport here; while the area was urban, it was urban in only the loosest sense of the word; houses were somewhat secluded from each other here, and the forests beyond were in everyone's backyard. You could go a mile in some cases without seeing another dwelling.
Wait, why was Rex Davies in front of the Howe house? He was clearly staring at it...from across the street, and behind a bush. Not readily visible from the house itself.
Rex was a rising tennis star, fit and with an athletic medium build, topped off by blond hair and blue eyes. I liked him normally, we hung out in a few of the same circles. I was a bit bigger than he was, and I knew he was nervous around such people; I would use that today. Because I was fairly sure I wouldn't like whatever he was doing.
His focus on the house was ironclad... he ignored me pedaling up.
“What are you doing Rex?”
He looked at me, and a blow to my estimation of his intelligence, he didn't immediately turn around and run.
“Oh, I'm trying to get a glimpse of Jamie. Rumor has it she mutated, and I want to see what she looks like now.”
And another few notches down. Rex was almost as intelligent as a similarly named dog now by my own reckoning.
“Just... go home Rex. Just go home. Before I'm forced to do something we will both regret.”
He finally realized who he was talking to.
“Um... right. I'll just be going.”
He decided he needed exercise, jogging away.
And just in time too, the front door opened, and the object of his weird voyeurism was standing there, a vision of harried loveliness staring down the street. The moment our eyes met she motioned me inside. I checked the street then walked over, walking my bike. It wouldn't do to get hit after all, for all that the traffic on this road was always light.
I had a feeling that for a little while, the traffic would increase.
“You're checking for me kind of early.”
She pulled me inside and shut the door with a slam.
“My parents are driving me nuts, and I thought they were going to leave without you.”
I replied perhaps a little louder than I needed to, but I wanted to make sure her parents would hear.
“Don't be silly, they both know that wouldn't stop me. How are you this fine morning?”
I knew how she was of course; it was obvious.
“Nervous of course. I don't want to do this.”
I hugged her close and she did not object. Neither did her parents, who entered the room together with a hesitation normally reserved for meeting ax murderers.
“It'll be fine, relax. Have you had breakfast yet?”
She gave a small tight nod, catching sight of her parents mincing in. They were dressed in their Sunday best a day early; a really expensive black suit for Mr. Howe that managed to make him look like a mini version of Lurch from the Adam's family. I had to suppress the urge to ask who had died.
Mrs. Howe made me suppress a giggle however. A skirt suit for Mrs. Howe was the order of the day. A skirt suit in an unfortunate shade of dark red. With stripes. The non-slimming kind. I was far too polite to tell her she looked like a lumpy barber's pole... but I thought it very hard, with Jamie catching the look and rolling her now lovely amber eyes at me.
Jamie saved me.
“Yes we've all had breakfast. Eggs and Spam.”
I mock threw up at her. Eggs were fine, but mixing them with that mystery meat that was one step down from high school cafeteria mystery meat? Why ruin perfectly good eggs that way? She smacked me on the arm.
“Quiet you, it's good.”
There is something to be said for them all eating a common thing together. Maybe there was hope for them all yet. I still didn't like how skittish they were however. It was as if Jamie was wearing a bomb vest or something.
At least they were getting better.
Mr. Howe cleared his throat.
“Well, now that we're all here, we can get going. Shall we?”
Mrs. Howe was really slipping. Normally she'd at least ask me if I had breakfast myself; now she just led the way from the house; I could just make out the big gulp of air that had been her sole noise so far.
The drive over was boring and awkward. We had all seen the same trees, houses and wildlife many times over, but I at least was too worried to read my book. From the looks and stiff posture, Jamie was as on edge as I was. I handed her the book I brought for her and she smiled. Then I tried to set an example, even if I didn't turn a single page the entire time. At least I don't think she noticed.
We were there just in time for the office to open. It was a rather small strip mall style building up front, cheap paintings and all. It looked much like my dentist's office, complete with the waiting room. After Jamie gave her name to the receptionist, a pleasant looking young lady who looked to be the victim of a hangover, we all sat down.
I had seen the appointment book; we were the only ones on it, at least for the morning hours.
The reason why we had to wait with our anxieties eating us alive became clear a moment later, when another car pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. It was a dark later model sedan with a bubble light on top. The man stepping from the driver's side was thin almost to the point of skeletal, and wore a black suit that seemed a size too big for him. A fedora, also black, was perched on his stringy white coated head. He was old and wrinkled, but moved with a spry speed that left me blinking.
The one getting out of the passenger side was a bit more normal; just a man in a doctor's coat, black haired and unremarkable. Perhaps in his early 30's, though I doubted it. He had the sort of fresh faced look one sees with new college kids.
So this had to be the tester... and his escort? He wasn't a cop, and I wasn't going to....
No sooner did they reach the door than a police cruiser, one of our new ones, pulled up and two officers got out. I had been wondering what kept them. I didn't recognize either, but they had the crew-cut look with chiseled features, uniforms that I could see the creases in from here.
The vibe of confidence was also easy to spot. And with them here I could breathe easy... right after I checked something.
They both wasted no time at all, all but charging to the door. They were both at it before the man in the fedora could be more than properly through it. He raised an eyebrow at their antics.
I just got my phone out.
They walked up to the Howe's, who had all stood up. The lab coated guy and old man both had genuine smiles on their faces, and outstretched hands.
“Hello, I'm Dr. Paige and this is my associate agent Berkowitz.”
Mr. Howe answered. He didn't sound too nervous, which was a neat trick.
“I'm Flynn Howe, this is my wife Sydney, and my daughter Jamie.”
It didn't take long for them to look my way, so I answered the unspoken question.
“Lucas Del Bosque. Pleased to meet you.”
Dr Paige had a sweaty palm, but agent Berkowitz had a strong dry grip. He also looked me directly in the eye.
One of the cops cleared his throat.
“I'm officer Trask, my partner is officer Stahl. We're here to make sure there are no... incidents during this testing.”
Mr Howe just nodded, but I had my phone prepped.
“Badge numbers please, officers?”
A mild look of surprise and respect, but they both rattled them off with no hesitation. Trask was 328 and Stahl was 329. Kind of odd. Did they graduate in the same class or something? Was that even how it worked?
I phoned it in, my hand and forefinger up in the universal one moment gesture. If they tried to go anywhere before I had my answers I would be tackling somebody.
“Redding police force; how may I help you?”
“Yes, can you do me a favor and call officer Trask, badge number 328 for me please?”
“May I ask what this is regarding, sir?”
“I'm trying to confirm that the officers in front of me is in fact officers Trask and Stahl of the Redding P.D.”
United States citizens are allowed to question the identity of police officers, and even call in complaints while being arrested. I just wanted to make sure these two were actually ours.
“One moment, sir.”
It was a long moment, but we all waited. It was obvious doctor Paige wanted to get going, but agent Berkowitz was cool as a cucumber.
I was almost to the point of foot tapping when officer Trask's radio squeaked to life. I could hear the call connect over my phone.
“Officer Trask, come in.”
He made a show of answering his radio.
“Trask here.”
“Trask, what's your 20?”
Again, I could hear it through my phone. I wiggled it and mouthed good enough.
“Staring at the kid that just called you, at the testing center.”
The receptionist? Fellow officer? Whoever, she came back on the phone.
“Does that satisfy you, sir?”
“Yes ma'am, thank you.”
I hung up and turned to the officers.
“Sorry officers, I just had to make sure.”
Officer Trask waved his hand as if at an annoying fly.
“Think nothing of it, Mr. Del Bosque. In fact, I'd rather you checked. We don't mind at all.”
I grinned, turning to agent Berkowitz.
“That's good to hear, because I'm not done quite yet.”
With a matching smile, he handed over his card. The number on it matched the number Jamie's parents had called to make the appointment, and google had revealed it as legit. The only difference was his card had an extension.
I called it.
“Good morning, Mutant Commision Office, Redding branch.”
The receptionist had picked up. This office couldn't be some weird plant, as the MCO office had been here for years. Everyone knew it. Agent Berkowitz motioned for me to keep the card as I went to hand it back, the congenial grin still on his face as he asked:
“Good enough?”
I handed the card back and walked over.
“Excuse me miss? Do you recognize that man?”
She looked up from her magazine confused, her gum popping in her mouth.
“Yes sir, that's Agent Berkowitz, our field agent. He was out picking up Dr. Paige.”
I turned to the assembled group.
“Good enough. Sorry, I had to make sure.”
And Jamie's parents were too nervous and overwhelmed to. They wouldn't think of it until after any such disappearance on her part.
Doctor Paige couldn't contain himself anymore.
“Alright then, now that we are proven to be who we say we are, how about we get started? This way, Miss Howe. Mr. Howe, Mrs. Howe you may follow agent Berkowitz to the control room with the officers to oversee the process.”
I started back too, following the group, when officer Stahl stopped me.
“Sorry kid, only family beyond this point. It's a law.”
Deflated, I sat back down. Jamie looked like she wanted to protest so I told her:
“Don't worry; I'll be right here till you get back. Wild horses and all.”
She nodded and I eased back, grabbing my book. I had the feeling it would be a long wait.
.........
I took another drink of my Pepsi, draining it. The guy was watching me, silently. The frat type was beginning to notice something was up between us, though he hadn't cared enough to start snooping. Which was good.
“So you two were close then.”
My seatmate said finally, his eyes unreadable for all this his body language screamed sympathy. I responded more out of a sense of needing to fill the silence than anything else.
“Yes, we were close.”
“I must say, you're not at all like you're portrayed in the news. At least some of the news. It might be better for you if you conducted some interviews.”
I shook my head. That's what mom had said too, but it hadn't worked out.
“No, after they butchered the first one by editing it to death I refused. The networks aren't interested in the truth.”
Just in vilifying me for ratings. He made a dismissive gesture and leaned back; clear signs of disbelief.
“Surely there must be a few?”
I hadn't found any, and I told him so.
“The closest to getting it right was Fox news. Even they screwed up a few points, but they got the gist correct.”
And isn't that just scary in and of itself? The idea that you might just be able to trust Fox news, of all things, with telling something closer to the truth than their peers?
He agreed with me on that point at least with a full body shudder, whether he knew it or not. Then I could see the shrewdness sweep over him like the creeping darkness over the moon in those recent big budget space movies.
“That's pretty bad. Yes I can see why you wouldn't want to risk interviews. So, you both are getting along, she did not 'get disappeared'... and then what?”
I heard the question underneath: 'If you didn't do it, how could she possibly get soured on you months later?'
I had to fidget some before I could settle back with a sigh. My tail was just large enough to make me uncomfortable if I sat on it wrong. Just big enough to be nearly impossible to hide and a complete pain in the butt, pun intended. But not big enough to give any special balance powers or be prehensile or any other really cool thing.
If I wanted to be really awkward, I could hold it out straight and balance a Pepsi on it... the extent of my powers. Well that and being in good shape. Nothing a human couldn't achieve, but I didn't need to work at it. The stupid ears increased my hearing, but without the clips in them to moderate the sound I'd more than likely end up deaf. And they were even harder to hide than the tail.
It wasn't even close to being worth the cost. I could have changed into Champion or Superman himself and it wouldn't have been enough.
“Well then she went back to school on Monday....”
............
I had read most of my book before she was done, and the sun was now streaming into the western facing windows. They had fed the Howes, but hadn't spared a second thought about me. And even with a food court nearby, I wasn't about to go anywhere.
I had just been... forgotten about. So I used that in order to grab a seat and move it into view of both the front and back entrances. I wasn't even sure where they had gone to test her, but they hadn't left.
The receptionist hadn't even looked up. Not even once. I was tempted to open the door and make it chime just to make her do something.
And then Jamie breezed out of what I had taken to be a basic examination room, and therefore way too small to hold any sort of real physical tests in and latched on to me, yanking me up.
“Come on, come on, let's go, let's get out of here!”
“Everything alright?”
If they hurt her....
“Everything is fine, I just want out of here. Like, right now. I'll explain in the car, on the ride home.”
The doctor and agent came out, following Jamie's parents who were in no less of a hurry. The officers brought up the rear, thumbs in their belts, which was something I approved. Jamie all but dragged me out to the car, much to the amusement of everyone else. Even the lazy receptionist.
Then we were safely in the car and on the way home, the officers shadowing us. The MCO types went a different route, I assume back to L.A., or a hotel or something. As long as they stayed away.
The official verdict had been Devisor 2. She had apparently dodged a bullet there; devisors were prone to a sort of megalomania induced by the mutation itself, called “Diedricks” after the first one noticed to be afflicted. Or so says the internet, who knows how accurate that was.
The good news was that Jamie appeared to have none of the triggers for the disease. She wouldn't tell me how they tested her for it, but I could guess. I also guessed that if she did tell me, I'd have to find out a way to commit the perfect crime.
There was apparently an entire mostly unused complex under that strip mall dentist's office. According to Jamie it was the size of two of our gyms, and had all types of strange equipment. Doctor Paige had sent her into a dusty bathroom to get changed into a bodysuit, then run her through her paces. She was still mad about the ping pong ball somehow fired at high velocity at the back of her head.
Something about checking for esper powers.
She was also worked half to death there. Forced to pump iron and run a treadmill and other more mundane things. She was mainly angry that she hadn't gotten a true physical upgrade. I could read it in her tone; she very much wanted to be one of the 'faster, stronger, better' types.
I got the feeling it was mainly a case of too pretty superhero jealousy.
That was an honest affliction for most women, and worse for girls. At least, that was what mom told me. What it really was, was a version of model jealousy; where a female is jealous of another set of female's looks, like young kids are angry and jealous about the bodies of super models, and insecure in their own.
For someone as beautiful as Jamie, it was just ridiculous.
But I couldn't really tell her that. I had tried before, but my words in that particular arena just never took. I didn't understand it, and when asked to explain it in more depth, mom just said it was a girl thing. The only thing I could do was tell her how beautiful she was, and hope that one day she would get the point.
I personally felt most exemplar women were overcompensating for something. And what would happen to them when society's views on beauty finally changed? It had happened before. In Greek and Roman times the only women considered truly beautiful had been ones we would consider as overweight.
It secretly amused me to think that the next crop of 'super-hot' women could be closer to Rosie O-Donnell than Jessica Alba. Though I wouldn't deny Jessica Alba was super hot... and all without being an exemplar.
Having an actress mutate would be big news for at least a week, and every American would know. I hadn't received any such memo. Not that I'd really care if I had; life was too short and if it wasn't other people starving in the streets or dying from disease it wasn't a non-personal problem I could get behind.
“What are you thinking about?”
I looked over and met Jamie's wonderful new eyes, currently clouded with a certain suspicion. Uh-oh. I think she knows. I couldn't even lie to her; it just wasn't an option.
“How you look like Jessica Alba?”
She smacked me on the arm.
“Liar. I don't look a thing like Jessica Alba.”
Hey, she really didn't, but that was the best I could come up with. I wasn't suicidal enough to point out her little jealousy problem. Well only one thing to say; the right thing. I made a show of studying her, just long enough to make her a little uncomfortable with the process, then pounced.
“You're right; you look better.”
Then I totally aced her by kissing her nose.
Her mental reboot took awhile, and I allowed myself a little smug look.
Then she punched me in the arm again. I think I'm going to have to start wearing armor there or something; that spot is beginning to get a little tender.
I wish I had a camera, her face was as red as a tomato.
I handed her her book again. I didn't ask to see her new mutant identification card, and she didn't offer. At least this time we both got some actual reading done. At her house, I headed towards my bike.
“Sorry, I can't stay. The plan tomorrow is still for you to come over for lunch, right?”
She nodded.
“Right. I'll be there.”
I would like to stay and talk to her in private, to get more detail on these tests. But first thing was first. I had to go check in with mom. After all, I wasn't the only one worried about the MCO or vague threats. I couldn't quite insult the Howe's by making such a check in call in front of them. (“Yeah mom, we're on our way back, the Howe's didn't sell Jamie out to the MCO.”)
And making a check in call in the den of the enemy was a good way to end up choked out by ninja or special forces. I'd seen those old '80s movies.
Luckily enough for Rex, he wasn't here. If he had been waiting for his glimpse again I might well have been less forgiving. I wasted no time cycling back. Mom was in the front room watching TV. Some ridiculous Hallmark romance thing of a movie.
“Well, how did it go?”
“Devisor 2, no hint of Diedricks, and she's done. No chance of anything further.”
Like random tails or a second head or anything.
“Well, could have been worse. I take it there were no problems?”
My stomach chose that moment to growl.
“Other than me missing lunch, no. The agent was actually kind of friendly, and the cops didn't mind me checking their identity.”
“Good. Leftovers are in the fridge.”
She glued herself back into the movie while I suppressed a shudder. I couldn't understand how she liked such things. Oh well, the disaster of the day was safely averted.
Leftovers consisted of cold pasta... and I opted for a sandwich and Pepsi instead. Then I snuck both back to my room (mom did not like food going anywhere beyond the kitchen or dining room) and booted up my computer to play a few games. After all, my homework was already done and that new shooter wasn't going to play itself.
A few hours later, after coming to the conclusion that the new shooter was a haven of scrubs and script kitties, I shut it off. What a waste of what could have been a good game. Rolling the kinks out of my shoulders I noticed the time.
I also noticed my phone was vibrating on my desk, with one missed text. It was Jamie, and it said:
“Miss you.”
She, like me, was not one for shortcuts in typing or texting. I think she got that trait from me in fact, after about the 100th time I asked her what some seemingly random collection of letters and numbers had meant. The message was dated for an hour ago. Whoops.
I texted back: “No, you're missing the new script kitty shooter, scrublet.”
She wasn't a fan of that type of game, preferring something RPG like. But she sometimes played with me, just as I sometimes played hers with her. Compromise, and all that. To be honest, she wasn't half bad at them. She just got frustrated with enemy snipers and spawn campers.
At any rate, it was now late. Or late enough. I was drained from all the worry I couldn't show. I had to be the strong one of the two of us, and it was very wearing. I could only imagine how it was for Jamie. So I just texted her again. I knew she was still up.
“Sorry, tired and going to bed. You probably should too. See you tomorrow.”
The answer came back:
“Night. Sleep well.”
I only hoped she'd get the hint. Instead of nodding off to, well, the land of Nod however, I started to work on the assignments Jamie had missed while in hiding. No sense in her falling behind, and from what I read devisors could get up to speed quickly. So I would simply save her the tedium.
.......
“Wait a minute. You did her homework?”
I flushed a bit, embarrassed at being caught; and by turning myself in, no less. I hadn't meant to let that part slip.
“Yeah. At the time I wanted to do anything I could to help her. And cheating was a way I could help lessen the load, so I did it.”
“And you weren't caught at it?”
“Well I thought that any discrepancies in the work would be glossed over by the really big news, and if there were any flags raised, I didn't catch wind of them. I made it better than her usual assignments, but not amazingly so. Her later schoolwork blew mine away, so I don't think it was ever challenged.”
“I see, and how did the lunch go?”
“It actually went OK; we ate Chinese and then I set her up in front of that shooter I mentioned, and she got wrecked while we both laughed and had fun with it. It was a great time, actually.”
“So even then, there was no hint?”
“None. She seemed perfectly fine. She did get angry, but it was a normal angry and quickly forgotten. She went home after her dad called to see if she was still there, at 9pm. I walked her home, and that was that.”
“And how was school? I assume she went back to her old school?”
“She did, and it was... difficult.”
........
Bright and early, Monday morning. I was currently walking a vision of loveliness to school. A very nervous vision of loveliness. I could feel the waves of anxiety in the air, and for a non esper to pull that off was quite the feat.
Of course when we got to school everyone was staring at her. Even when I pulled her close, I didn't rate a glance. I was secretly amused by the number of collisions throughout the halls as I walked Jamie to the office. She promptly handed over the doctor's absentee excuse to the harried secretary and walked out before said secretary could say anything.
I shot that secretary an apology in glance form as I hurried out the door to catch up. Even with all the stress, that was a pretty rude thing to do. I would chide her for it later. Once again out in the hall it was easy to catch up to Jamie; all I had to do was follow the stares.
Her first class was American history, and mine was algebra 3. So we were due to be at opposite sides of the school in about 5 minutes. Which meant I needed to hurry, and escort her to class in my plan to take over the world, or at least show other people that she can be trusted and won't eat their heads.
Me sliding up to her elbow actually startled her. That was a less than positive sign.
“Hey, gorgeous. Let's get you to class.”
She knew as well as I did where I was due to be.
“But...!”
“But nothing, I've got plenty of time to see you get safely to the sleepy class.”
Her name for it, not mine. I liked all history classes. And I wasn't about to let someone get her alone without a teacher near. There was no telling what could happen. Besides, I could tell she wanted me near as much as possible; her fingernails currently drawing blood from my forearm were a mute testament to that.
I stopped at the door of course, but watched to make sure she made it to her desk alright. And also to be seen, making sure she made it to her desk alright. A silent show of solidarity, as it were. Then of course I had to run to my class, flat out and dodging people. If a teacher saw me, well I'd just have to take the detention.
I made it with seconds to spare of course; and didn't knock down anyone at all, which was a surprise. And a new personal best record for me.
And class was boring and the work easy, so I amused myself by writing notes plotting a course for both my and Jamie's scholastic future in a social context. Which is to say, planning worst case scenarios. There were hints that Jamie's friends, being the popular queen bee types, would be less than accepting of her new mutant status. I hoped that wasn't the case, it would devastate her... but I just had to see, and the waiting is always the hardest part of anything.
The bell rang and I was out of the classroom before anyone else could do more than look up. Racing down the halls this time was simple for the first few precious seconds and that was all I needed. I managed to make it back to Jamie's side in just over a minute flat, only a little out of breath. She favored me with a wry smile.
“How long are you planning to hover over me like this?”
My reply was easy.
“As long as you want me to.”
Evidently this was the right thing to say, judging by her widened eyes and glazed expression.
“Dude, get a room if you two are going to do that.”
I smiled as I replied to that. It wasn't like I cared what others thought, after all.
“Mind your own business, Jimmy. Or maybe you and I should get that room?”
A slight wiggle of my eyebrows his direction and he was fleeing. But even better, Jamie was laughing, a carefree throaty sound of mirth. I loved to hear her laugh. She had several different types, and I loved them all.
Our next class was together, though we couldn't sit next to each other. Mr Peasely thought it would be disruptive. Perhaps he was right, but we wouldn't know unless we tried it, right? Seemed to work out for study hall. Then again, Mrs. French really didn't care what we did, as long as we weren't too loud. Some kids even watched movies on their phones with earplugs in. Sure, they hid them behind books but everyone knew what they were doing.
If I'd tried that though, my mother would find out somehow and ground me for life. Study hall was for studying. I brought my mind back on task in time to ask:
“So, how was the sleepy class?”
Translation; did anyone give you trouble in history?
“Fine. Sleepy.”
Translation: No not really, but they stared a lot and whispered and it made me uncomfortable.
The next class was biology 2, and we shared it. Which was a blessing, as running around constantly would get me detention for sure. I didn't really care, but it would make it hard to walk her home. Having her take the bus alone would be worse, and a good walk never hurt anybody. Of course Jamie didn't know I was contemplating that move, and I was already framing a way to get around her objections to it. She was allergic to exercise sometimes.
In biology class we didn't sit together, she sat several desks behind me at the back. I sat second from the front; not up front with the teacher's pets, but close enough I could clearly see and hear everything the teacher said. With a slight wave I took my seat, taking careful note of the class and their reactions.
Then I spent most of the class staring down people who were staring at Jamie, while Jamie's own wonderful eyes attempted to bore a hole in the back of my head. I only barely took part in class, far from my usual, but Mr. Anders didn't say a single word about it.
He had eyes for Jamie too. He at least, was a bit more subtle about it.
I doubted it was something sordid; after all he was a happily married man. His wife was also a teacher, of P.E. And as old as she had to be she still looked good enough to make the dead sit up from their graves and take notice (though she didn't hold a candle to Jamie). So I was betting his new found interest was more clinical. Wonder what a biology teacher's interest in the lone mutant in his class (or town for that matter) could be.
The bell rang and I took note of the assignment before standing up. I hadn't even done more than open my book to the wrong page and pretend; I could always just do the assignment later, even if I don't know what it is at the moment.
I collected Jamie at her desk, and we walked to her next class, Home ec. The idea of Jamie playing little Susie home-maker was as always, endlessly amusing to me. My own class was Spanish 1. I had tried to talk Jamie into learning Spanish with me, but she didn't see the need. For my own part, I could always use more languages. Now American Spanish was not the same as the one from my mom's homeland. So what I was really doing was learning the cultural differences between the two.
My mother had taught me Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and French. Though my French was pretty basic; enough to order at restaurants and ask where the bathrooms were. Mother despaired, she was a master of several more languages, but though I was willing, adding French seemed to crowd the others out. There seemed to be an upper limit to how many languages I could learn.
At any rate, I seriously doubted anything crazy could happen at home ec, after all it was home ec, and Mrs. Winters was a bit of a battleaxe. There was some debate among us students as to whether she was a clone or a robot; she looked like she was around for world war 2, but was suspiciously spry for someone that old.
On my own lonely way to class, I found myself bracketed and a beefy arm around my shoulder. My two bookends were Arnold Trask and Ben Vecilio, two of the bigger troublemakers of our school. And that's both literal and figurative. Locally known as Arnie and Benny, they were like something from fast times at Ridgemont high meeting the Hell's Angels. Hmm, maybe I should ask if Arnold is related to officer Trask? It was likely, this was a small town after all. Arnold spoke first:
“So, Benny here and I are concerned. Here you are, hanging out with a mutie. And I thought you were smart. Don't you know muties is dangerous?”
That's Arnold for you, not only an ignorant hater, but one with bad grammar. I decided to play dumb.
“Sorry, to whom are you referring?”
So far I was managing to keep a tight rein on my temper; but it was already getting difficult. The only thing that stopped me so far was the simple fact that grammar aside, he was correct so far. Jamie was a mutant, so it was a fair description; even if I wouldn't use the term dangerous.
“To your girlfriend, Jamie! It's only a matter of time before she flips out and kills us all!”
And then he was on the ground, and my fist was stinging. I tried to focus past the buzz in my brain and singing blood in my ears.
“That's my girl you're talking about, Arnie. Be very careful what you say. And as for that statement, don't let me catch or hear you saying it again. Because if I do, I'm going to hurt you.”
He jumped right back up, red faced, before Ben could jump in (Ben was always a bit slow).
“Now see here you....”
My cold, matter of fact voice cut through his yelling bluster. It was obvious I didn't care about his size or reputation as I jabbed a finger in his chest.
“No, you see here. I don't care what you say about me; I don't care about your reputation; I don't care about your friends. Impugn my girlfriend again, and win or lose, I will make you bleed buckets. Buckets, you understand?”
He quieted and gave me a long look. I waited. I was willing to wait there all day.
“I got it. You're an alright guy Lucas. I hope everything goes well. I'll just owe you for the sucker punch.”
I was suddenly all smiles again.
“Feel free to collect any time you want. I've got to get to class.”
.........
“So you went as far as all that? Defending her honor and reputation and everything?”
My curious seatmate asked.
I nodded, swimming in my own remembered misery. I was saved by the stewardess.
“Excuse me, would you like a lunch?”
“Yeah, I'd like the ham sandwich, the uh... option number one.”
The stewardess dutifully handed over the deli style ham sandwich and a bag of generic potato chips; smile still plastered on.
“I'll take the same but with the apple slices please.”
That was also passed over, and then the stewardess turned to me, and that pasted on smile faltered ever so slightly. I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't been looking for it. My ears weren't out so I assume she was informed through the passenger manifest or the pilot.
“I'll take the vegetarian option please.”
She handed a prepackaged salad over with a separate packaged fork and napkin.
“Dressing?”
I didn't even need to think about it.
“Ranch, please.”
My seatmate didn't even bat an eye; no doubt due to his careful attention to the accounts of my sordid history he knew of my dietary restrictions. I couldn't help eying his sandwich as I broke my own food from its confinement. Even after all this time, I missed meat.
At least the salad had carrots in it. Nice, crunchy carrots.
I ignored the amusement I felt radiating from my side as I ate. Yes, I knew salad was stereotypical. Yes, I knew carrots specifically were stereotypical. But my digestive tract was no longer fully omnivorous; meat made me sick. The more I ate, the worse it got. No one was sure if it was BIT or genetics, but my mentor Ibby couldn't eat meat easily either.
At least he allowed me to eat in silence. He was rather focused on his own food. What was it about air travel that made people hungry for crap food? The salad was maybe fast food grade, and I'm sure the sandwich was the same.
Once finished it was a small wait for the stewardess to pick up the trash, then of course I needed to relieve myself. So then I had to be “that guy”... or rather, “that girl” and bother my seatmates. I probably could have waited if I wanted, but my ears were getting downright painful.
Just because I could fold them down, didn't mean it was pleasant to do for long periods.
As soon as I was alone and the flimsy door was safely locked, I pulled the hood back and let them spring up on their own. I couldn't fully suppress the sigh. Moving them allowed me to work the kinks out. Using the seat covers thoughtfully provided by the airline I did the thing bathrooms were actually for, almost as an afterthought. Then I sat there a bit longer, stretching my stupid ears as much as I could so they wouldn't cramp up again.
Then the hood went back up, and I went out to face the suspicious world again.
A 2nd Generation Whateley Academy Story
Down the Rabbit Hole
by Nagrij
Part 2
It didn't take long for the suspicions of the outside world to rear their ugly heads; one was just outside the bathroom door in fact.
The air marshal was a large man, just past middle age with rugged features and dressed almost like a cowboy; faded jeans over boots that could be real snakeskin, a large silk shirt that showed how well built he was, and a suit jacket. I expected a gun, but there wasn't one. I couldn't spot a bulge at the armpits, but I knew he had to be armed somewhere. I tried not to let the suspicion painting his face get to me; after all, he was paid to be paranoid.
Perhaps it was wrong to assume he was an air marshal, but Murphy stated I was to be a whipping boy – or girl – before. So wrong or not, I was looking for something to go wrong, and this guy screamed cop, whether I saw a badge or not. His ice breaker statement only reinforced the cop impression.
“Everything all right, miss?”
“Um, yes sir. Nature doesn't stop calling just because we're at 50,000 feet.”
He squinted an eye shut into my myopic smile a good long moment before finally moving and letting me though. Then he went inside the bathroom himself... though I suspected it was more to inspect it for nasty surprises I might have left as opposed to any pressing need of his own. On a whim I slowed my walk, and sure enough he came out about a minute later and went back to the stewardess's hold or workspace or whatever it was called. Jerk.
I once again bothered my seatmates by making them move their legs and scooting into my seat.
“Are you alright? You were gone for some time.”
The businessman, who I was beginning to have doubts about actually seemed concerned. Well, he at least already knew so I supposed I could tell him. I leaned in to whisper.
“Everything's fine. Just... well, sometimes if my ears are in the same position for a long time they cramp.”
I think the frat boy heard me, headphones or not, 'cause I caught him looking over at me. But my hoodie was still up, so I was sort of safe to scrutiny. I waited and he got the hint, going back to his phone. Through it all the businessman waited patiently.
A quick glance at his laptop revealed no open recording programs or word documents; which I took to be a good sign. He smiled when I looked up, and I knew he knew what I had been checking for.
“Now, so there you were, helping the young lady adjust, and everything was going swimmingly....”
“Right. Starting from there, then.”
.......
Time flies, whether you're having fun or not. Eventually. After the big excitement of Jamie's mutation, things settled down to a new kind of normal. A change in the status quo. Jamie was out of the cool kids clique; it hadn't taken her former friends long to decide that she was too weird and they didn't want to be around her anymore.
She had taken to wearing jeweler's glasses (or something similar that magnified small things, for all I know she made them herself) and muttering to herself while tinkering with small devices of unknown origin, which has yet to help her image at school. Once a bright girl, she now outstripped me and everyone else in that area, which led to her cold shoulder among most of the geeks and nerds. Who knew geeks and nerds got jealous about such things?
Still, even outcast as she was, there were some brave few that would accept her for who she now was; and it was to that particular lunch table of unusual suspects that I was headed. It had taken time to root out the fakers and sycophants from the genuine article; the wheat from the chaff. Jamie had been reeling from the betrayal of her closest friends, so I had been the one to conduct most of the impromptu interviews. Which basically meant that I had just sat down beside them one day and talked.
Jamie did not like me spilling my guts about her situation, but she couldn't argue with the results. Several new friends, made to order and far less likely to stab her in the back the moment she looked away. I still hadn't gotten back at her old so-called friends for dumping on her like they had, but I would. I was only human after all, and better me than Jamie. Jamie didn't need that sort of karma.
Lunch was, of course, where the real difference was seen. The cafeteria had a heavy early 20th-century asylum feel, with dingy white walls and a puke green tile floor. I wasn't sure where, but the school had found long fold out tables with benches built in to match the floor, and set them through the place. Master decorators the school staff wasn't. At least the kitchen was mostly clean, and the staff tried to keep their beards (men and women both) out of the soup.
Long story short, we both had a new love for the outcast table. Jamie because the school at large stated she belonged there, and myself because the school at large said she belonged there. Like most of the smarter students I brought my own lunch, and I spread it out before me; a cold burger from the local burger joint along with equally cold fries. I subscribed to the firm belief that even cold it was better than the alternative... and sometimes I was able to warm it up using one of the microwaves next to the vending machines. One glance showed I couldn't do it today though, and I just sat down.
I sat down right next to two of the outcasts; the wonder twins. The wonder twins were Jeff and Jane, twins who before their simultaneous growth spurts had looked nearly identical, a fact which had made the small and petite Jeff a target for ridicule. Now he was almost as tall as I was, and had some real muscle while his sister has been filling out nicely. Despite all that, the resemblance was still uncanny, somehow.
At least nowadays anyone could tell them apart. I bet Jeff was relieved about that too.
Across the table from me was Marcus. Marcus was, well, out of shape. Or to put it less nicely, he had a shape – a pear. For all that he couldn't run 100 steps without gasping and grinding to a halt, he was a nice guy who was even more laid back than I was. We had actually been friends for a few years. He never did deserve the treatment he got for not living up to the California ideal, and really liked Jamie. Despite the fact that Jamie was trying to get him to exercise.
And so I waited with ill-concealed impatience while Jamie stood in the lunch line. That meant one of two things; either she had forgotten her own lunch again, or her mom hadn't made one. Jamie now required a little bit of help focusing in the kitchen; she had discovered how much cooking resembled chemistry, and was in an experimentation phase. A phase her mother did not want to promote in any way shape or form. I wasn't sure I blamed her for not wanting the mess involved, but I know I blamed her for how it made Jamie feel when Mrs. Howe scolded her.
Of course, that led to other problems.
I watched as Jamie was bracketed by her former friends on the cheer team, or squad, or whatever they wanted to call themselves this week. Before I could get up she was shoved, twice, a game of human tennis. Marcus reached out and snagged my hand as they left, preventing me from tracking the scum down and delivering a little retribution.
“No man, just ignore it. She will feel worse if you don't.”
I sat back down, mainly out of confusion.
“How would that even work?”
He looked me straight in the eye, something he didn't do to anyone often.
“Trust me. Just act like you didn't see a thing. If you want help settling up later, you got it, OK? But don't say anything to her.”
I shrugged and nodded. He hadn't steered me wrong so far. And then the light amongst the darkness was in our midst.
“Hey! How's it going today?”
Marcus gave his customary mumbled “fine” as I kissed her on the cheek in answer. She looked nervous as she sat down on my other side, but she rapidly took in my lack of visible rage to mean that I hadn't seen any of the bullying. She was almost certain of it when I stared at her lunch.
“Mom wouldn't let you in the kitchen again? Only reason to eat that garbage.”
She nodded with a sigh.
“You try one little recipe with rock salt and borax and you're banned forever.”
I looked at her with a smirk. “Isn't that the one that moved?”
She coughed a bit in embarrassment. “Yes, but only a little?”
Jane rolled her eyes and Jeff called her on it.
“Pretty sure things move when you cook too, sister mine. So no room to talk there.”
I shrugged it off.
“Don't worry about it Jamie, if she keeps giving you trouble, just ask her about the magic brownies.”
With one statement I managed to confuse them all.
“What do you mean, magic brownies?”
I grinned.
“Listen and learn, neophytes. They were kids once too; statistically the chances are good that your mom has made weed brownies before. Mention it and watch her closely; if she flinches, then she did, and you have ammunition that will let you back in the kitchen, should you want to go back that is.”
My mom had flinched when I suggested it. Then mentioned something about rabbits which I hadn't quite caught, cause she clammed up. I preferred not to guess about what that might mean... no one wanted to think about their parents that way. If anything, I had just made Jamie more confused.
“But that makes no logical sense whatsoever?”
“Of course not, but not every argument is logical, and not every way to win one requires logic. Usually, just the appearance of such is enough.”
There was a sparkle in Jamie's eye.
“That's remarkably underhanded of you.”
I mock preened. “Thank you, I try.”
Jane just poked Jeff in the ribs, as if to say 'take notes'. We finished eating in relative silence; for some reason the other regular occupants of our table weren't here. Sometimes they skipped lunch, but I still wasn't sure what happened to them when they did. Nothing bad I hoped.
Jamie stopped me as I got up to throw my trash away.
“We still on for after school?”
I had to admit, I was fascinated by my girlfriend. The things she could do were nothing short of amazing, no matter how weird they got. She was involved in some internet project posed to get answers on mutation, and how it worked. She was even getting paid a small amount from her work on it.
One of the more fascinating aspects of the current wave of human mutation was a concept called a “body image template,” which was a foundation for how the super pretty type of mutant worked. The term used by those in the know and Jamie clued me in. Their body actually conformed to an image, possibly an ideal, which was somehow tied to them. It was also considered that some of the more inhuman looking mutants also had one. How it was tied to the person, and when, no one knew.
That was what Jamie and several other smart mutants were studying. So far her own research seemed to indicate that the body image template was linked to the actual genetic code of the person, and existed well before mutation started. She also had mentioned something about it being similar to a form of mutation called an “avatar”, but that was where she lost me.
But lost or not, it was very interesting.
“Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you after school.”
......
My seatmate stopped me there, gently.
“Sorry to interrupt, but what is an avatar, exactly?”
“Oh, my bad. I've learned a few of the terms used to describe different mutants. An avatar is your basic host type of mutant that a spirit finds a home in, like Champion. The theory that Jamie was working on was that the mutant with a body image template and an avatar were actually similar mutations, and while the avatar mutation allowed for a sort of extra-dimensional space that served as a home for a spirit, the body image template mutation had a similar sort of space that allowed the mutant to host certain concepts involving body images, such as....”
“Young ladies with rabbit ears?”
I winced but suppressed the more violent reaction as I continued.
“… or super beautiful superman type women and men, yes. Supposedly it also explains the more monstrous looking mutants out there as well. Though the mutant may hold their own image of what they should be, there can also be images that are just out there in the minds and subconscious of large groups of people that might still end up being expressed, or altering the image the mutant themselves holds.”
I stopped when I saw his eyes start to glaze, and suppressed my enthusiasm. I was such a nerd, talking mutant theory without a care in the world with some random person on a plane while an air marshal watched me from a few seats away.
He wasn't very subtle; I could smell his cheap aftershave even if I couldn't hear him muttering about me.
“Well at least that is the theory anyway.”
“Alright, well please, continue.”
“Alright, so after school....
......
I walked at a leisurely pace. It wouldn't do to arrive too quickly at Jamie's house; it would smack of hovering. We had already had one discussion on what she termed as 'hovering' and I wasn't anxious for another. So this week had been all about being fashionably late so she wouldn't get suspicious. That and chasing away morons, though lately there had been fewer morons to chase away ever since Karl Davies had shown up at school with the raccoon treatment (which was a black nose and two black eyes).
Jamie and I had made good fun of him, with Jamie wondering briefly who had beaten him up. He wasn't talking, and I didn't say.
But sitting outside the Howe home with a pair of binoculars trained at Jamie's bedroom window in the morning was a bit much. If anything, he got off lucky. And the only reason he wasn't in the hospital was because Jamie always kept her curtains closed in the mornings; she hated having the sun wake her up.
He hadn't known that, though, which was why he'd gotten punched in the first place. The one good shot he'd gotten on me was easily concealed, which made it the perfect crime. I half expected all his friends to jump me any day now, however. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it; many of those guys were my friends. Which I hoped meant they would at least let me explain why I was beating so many of their own down before they went straight for violence.
I figured there was a 50/50 chance of that. Most of the guys caught trying to peep hadn't said why I had been less than happy to see them, after all. If the harassment kept up though, I'd be calling the cops. I had hoped it would die down as people realized Jamie hadn't grown a second head, and some of it had, but there were still curious people. And for all I knew it could just be completely innocent curiosity over the lone mutant in the area. I still wasn't about to allow it in my presence.
A swift rap on the door and it opened right up; I had been expected. Mrs. Howe still wouldn't meet my eyes, though Mr. Howe had gotten much better about it. At least, Jamie had stopped griping about more than the usual stuff she used to gripe about them over; something I took as a good sign.
“Hello Mrs. Howe.”
“hello Luke. How are you today?”
“I'm well. How are you?”
I actually did stop to exchange pleasantries. My mother was adamant about proper behavior, and much as I tried not to let it, her lessons stuck.
“I'm fine. Jamie is upstairs.”
“Thank you.”
Well, so today was a networking day. Jamie alternated her time between chatting with people like her online or building devices on her own. Sometimes it was every other day, but more often she was spending much more time talking to other devisors online about BIT theory and other tech. I didn't understand a single word, but Jamie thought the information was advancing the cause, so I was fine with it.
What was the cause? Nothing less than finding out how mutations, or at least the mutations that caused powers, actually worked. I don't think Jamie liked being a mutant. Not that I could blame her. I tried to make things easier for her, but I could only do so much, and some days it seemed the entire world was against her, even from my point of view.
I managed to sneak up behind her, just walking right in after she didn't even respond to the knock. I was used to at least a few of her new habits by now.
As I suspected, she was hunched over her computer, her face painted garish by the light from the screen as shadows crept about the room. Next to her on the desk was some little something... some kind of gadget. She had made. Or was making, it didn't look finished.
“Hey there.”
I wrapped my arms around her and smirked as she squeaked and tried to jump up.
“Luke! You should knock first!”
I had to block her shot at my arm, gently as I could. She could pack quite a bit into a punch now. I pointed at the thing on the desk.
“I did. You didn't answer, which meant you were busy with things. I was right. So what is it tonight, brain?”
Her answering grin was as wonderful as ever.
“Same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.”
I looked over her shoulder as she settled back in, adjusting her glasses.
“No, really, what's going on?”
She gestured at the chat logs.
“Well, Etherz claims he's made some progress in determining which dimensions the body image template appears visible in; and is currently tweaking his astral camera to get shots. Genotrope claims she has made progress in mapping the blank genes responsible for the BIT. And Psychokidz claims progress in determining which triggers are responsible for starting the mutation process.
But none of them have put it all together; they are all just arguing about who is right.”
I sat back in the spare chair, wishing I had some popcorn to watch the fireworks with. The arguments were always entertaining. It actually took a good 20 minutes for the three stooges (as I called them in my head) to remember that JAH2000 (Jamie's internet name for the purposes of this chat) was still present and accounted for.
Then Psychokidz made the mistake of asking her what she thought. With a knowing smirk, I leaned in to watch her type the response back.
'I think you're all right.' she typed, then leaned back into me to admire the fireworks. They were not long in coming.
'What? How can we all be right?!? The very idea....'
'The only true answer is obviously genetic....'
but unsurprisingly the Psychokidz, the self described mentalist, appeared to be considering the words.
'Well we all know the mind can affect the body; saying all these factors are linked is certainly nothing new. But without being able to attach correct import to each one, we are left in the dark about the process overall. Do you have any ideas there JAH?'
The idea she typed back was pretty brilliant; even I could tell.
'MRI scans of the brain. We already do the genetic mapping and look through other dimensions for influences on body image. We aren't mapping the brain itself, and brain activity during the time of change or when powers relating to a BIT are used. Either type of scan would give us more information.'
The chat room was silent for several minutes while we grinned at each other; it wasn't often Jamie could completely stymie them all. Then the practical though came back from psychokidz.
'We don't have an MRI to test this with.'
Jamie had been waiting for that one.
'We do. Etherz camera has one according to it's specs. It should be relatively easy to re-purpose it or build a version for just such a thing, provided he agrees to allow us.'
This surprised me.
“You're actually waiting on his permission?”
She shook her head, grin still in place and pointed to the gutted electrical thing I'd seen on her desk earlier.
“Of course not, but he doesn't know that. And I'll just give up the idea if he says no... and simply look up the plans for something similar but different on the internet. If it exists, it's there, after all.”
She had a point. The next message came in, from Etherz:
'So how are we going to find subjects on the verge of mutation? I can see us scanning normals for a baseline, but how do we find any correlation?'
That was a good question and one she had an answer for. Interesting.
'Simple, we don't. We scan all humans while bombarding them with images or thoughts of mutation to stimulate the thought process, then compare them to see if there are any matches.'
Oddly enough it was Genotrope that came back with the first reasoned objection, considering what kind it was.
'we would have to carefully screen the images to ensure they only provide stimuli for the areas we want to test for; no extremely hot mutant women or massive GSD cases, as those might incite lust or disgust or other emotions we don't want.'
A good point, I'll leave it to you and Psychokidz to set it up; I'll work on modifying the camera specs, with permission.'
'Etherz knew what she was implying. I could almost feel the curiosity ooze from the screen as he replied.
'You have it. You going to run the first scan tests?'
'Sure. I have a number of willing subjects to help me establish a baseline, at the very least. TTYL, signing off now.'
I shook my head as she powered down her computer.
“You just volunteered us all, didn't you?”
The twinkle in her eye as she wrapped herself around me said it all. But she spoke to seal the deal anyway.
“No, not all. Just my boyfriend who loves me, and a few other close friends who won't mind being a footnote in the annals of science for one of the greatest mysteries of the modern age.”
“Sheesh, layer it on thicker won't you?”
With a wink, she turned back to her thing.
“If I do, do you think they will fall for it?”
“I don't think you need to worry. I'm sure we can find enough people to help you out; yes me included.”
“Good! I was hoping you'd feel that way; now hold still and think mutant thoughts. This might tingle.”
I looked up with alarm to note she was now holding the business end of her machine. Where she had hidden it I don't know, but now what looked like one of those old small motion cameras from the 40's or something was pointed directly at me. I did in fact. feel a tingle. I also stayed perfectly still. Survival trait; if a somewhat... distracted genius tells you to hold still while testing something on you, it was best to do it.
“And that's it! See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?”
“A little warning next time! Well, I haven't grown a third arm or anything. So what did you learn?”
Her face fell.
“You know I'd never....”
I waved that off.
“I know, I know. So what did you learn, seriously?”
She perked up briefly before her face fell again.
“Well, I don't know. I won't know until I plug the data into my computer and translate it. All I've really got at the moment is a snapshot of your brain activity at the time of' a slight pause as she looked at her watch while I rolled my eyes. '5:23 pm, and after a discussion regarding mutation, after which you may be more receptive and stimulating the areas we need.”
“Crap! Its really that late? Mom's working late and It's my turn to make dinner!”
She reached up and poked me in the forehead.
“Whipped. Alright, you better get going. But first.”
Her arms snaked around me and pulled me into a kiss. I was enjoying the effort when I felt a pull at the base of my neck.
“Hey! What are you doing?!?”
She held up a few of my hairs before placing them in a baggie.
“Simple. I needed your DNA too. It'll grow back.”
Hair didn't grow back when you pulled it out root and all. But then again, knowing Jamie, she probably had some scheme to give me hair like a rockstar at some point, so I let it go.
“Sigh, fine, but you should ask everyone else first. Mention the DNA thing specifically too. No shades of gray; you don't want to end up sued by irate parents over DNA research without consent or anything like that. Come to think of it, isn't that how Genotrope said he got in trouble?”
She shuddered.
“Something like that. I'll do it by the book, I promise.”
I knew it, it was similar but much worse in his case. She had taken to slumming with bad influences online! And now I sounded entirely too much like my mom or some other parent! The horror!
“Alright, well I wish I could stay.' - I really did, she was looking down again -'but my mom will be out for both our heads if she doesn't have food by the time she gets home. See you tomorrow!”
I tore through the house at record speeds; I only had until 6, and I would need at least twenty minutes to throw what I had waiting in the fridge together and warm it up. Proper planning would save my bacon again.
......
Now I had to clarify a thing or two to my seatmate.
“It was around this time, that the one person who needed to be prosecuted more than any other in this entire mess hatched her 'cunning little plan' that made everything go completely south for all of us.”
“Oh?”
I nodded, nervously eying the college bum, whom I was now sure was listening while pretending not to – along with shooting me gazes when he thought I wasn't looking. I was kind of sure he was trying to check me out through my baggy clothes, but on that much at least my disguise was fairly foolproof.
“yes, one Amy Milsner. She had the idea that I was better off with her, and had come up with a foolproof plan....”
linebreak shadow
“You sure this'll work?”
Daniel was an idiot, but for now, still a useful one.
“Yes, it'll work. You do your part, I do mine, and you get your shot at the mutant free of interference, and I get Luke. Everyone wins. You just have to do your part and keep her tied up for exactly three minutes, then escort her to the gym as planned.”
She sees Luke with me, goes a little wild, they break up, and I can move in and save Luke from the crazy bitch. Simple. And Danny, who's had a torch for the mutie since freshman year, can pick her up on the rebound. Everyone wins. Even if they get together and compare notes later, once the damage was done it would be done.
I didn't understand what hold the bitch had over every male my age group in this town, but it was disgusting. She wasn't THAT pretty, or smart, or funny. What was it that she had, that the rest of us didn't?
Well, after tomorrow, she wouldn't have Luke.
A blowup and I would be there to pick up the pieces and pull that harpy's claws out of the most amazing boy in school. She could make do with second best, for once. Everything was set up, and my plants were in place. Even though I wasn't sure whose side they were on. I could hardly wait for tomorrow to come, and I knew focusing on homework was a lost cause. So after dropping my crap off at home I decided it was time for a walk.
I often walked to clear my head, it was one of the best things one could do. Even though I had a reputation to maintain as a savvy techno kid of the 21st-century, walks remained my guilty pleasure. I could always answer calls or texts while walking... if I kept it on. Sometimes silence was golden. I'd first met Luke on a walk; he liked them too.
Luke did everything for her; he had come to us after the witch's mutation, while she was 'still down about what happened' and asked us to support her. We set him straight quickly. But if he'd asked me, I'd have done it. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, after all.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he had gathered the misfits and complete social rejects together in a new clique and thumbed his nose at us. All because we didn't like the hussy that had everything. He hardly ever spoke to any of us anymore, and when he did it was to warn us to lay off the hussy.
Without knowing it I had started running, moisture in my eyes. I forced myself to slow down, think, and put it out of my mind – at least until tomorrow, when I'd finally do something about it. I also hadn't realized the route my feet had taken. I was standing in front of his house.
I could see him through the kitchen window, making dinner for his mom, who wasn't home yet. I checked my phone; she was late. Looked like stir fry. I turned around just in time, as his mom pulled up in that old diesel Audi of hers. I don't think his mom knew I existed, and I wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.
I couldn't wait until I could meet her.
......
I heard mom pull up outside just as I was putting the finishing touches on the meal. Just in time! I snuck all evidence of my laziness into the sink and trash and managed to light the candle just as she slumped her way into the dining room. I'd have to be blind not to notice she was tired; though if I were I'd probably hear it...
I started massaging her shoulders the minute she parked herself in a chair; not her customary chair, the one nearest the hall and fewest steps into the room.
“Tough day?”
She bobbed her head in a way I took to mean yes.
“A client wanted to wrap their Lamborghini around a tree, and I had to work on damage control. Not sure why my clients feel the law does not apply to them. It's like a disease.”
“Well, stir-fry makes everything better. Dig in.”
She didn't waste any time, though she could probably chew before asking questions. “Homework?”
“Done.”
I'd done it early this morning, and she hadn't been awake enough to notice. Same as my chores. Gone were the days when mom could assign me chores in the hopes that I would 'stay out of trouble'. Not that I went out of my way to advertise that fact.
“Chores?”
“Done. There is a new movie on 'Netmovie' I thought you might like, so I took the liberty of queuing it up for you.”
I knew how to press all the right buttons, and she knew it.
“What do you want, Luke?”
I knew that she knew, and knew she'd suspect something.
“Why not a thing mother dearest... perhaps store credit?”
She scoffed openly at that and waited.
“Alright, alright. Lessons this weekend?”
I know she wouldn't want to, having just dealt with a car horror story today, but extra lessons could help me pass my driver's test, and I would be 16 soon. That and I loved my mom's car; it had a sunroof; that stupid utilitarian Ford the school used to teach us was small and stuffy.
That and I trusted my mom over Mr. Miles, the driver's ed teacher. For all that his name lent itself to jokes, most of his advice was in tune of 'left, left, you little brat!' and 'That's a wall! Park this thing before you kill us and give someone else a turn.'
Not a lot of help there.
“Alright, you're on. One hour, and only one hour. And we stay local.”
Ouch, that was barely enough to get behind the wheel. But it would help. The roads around here were country ones, good stretches of asphalt that didn't see much traffic and had all the stops clearly marked. I knew them, there were no surprises waiting on them for me.
“Good enough. Now, we have a movie to watch.”
We got to bed a bit late that night. I stayed up to watch the movie, which turned out to be a bit longer than I suspected. I really should keep a closer eye on the run timers for these things. Then I ended up having to tuck mom into the couch when she fell asleep halfway through.
I wasn't about to wake her up, though; that way led madness.
As I did every night for the last six months, I checked my phone for texts. Sometimes Jamie or a few of my other friends liked to text me late at night, and it was rude to ignore them. At least, if they did it before ten. After ten pm I treated it like a phone call and ignored it provided it wasn't a huge screaming emergency. Nothing tonight, so the land of Nod was calling my name.
Mom wasn't there when I woke, but she had made breakfast... and a list of things she wanted me to do. The house was clean enough that most of it could be ignored, but I would have to mow the yard. Which meant that tonight I couldn't spend time with Jamie. Mom would likely work late again, and between the large yard and making dinner, well, it'd be late before I could go anywhere. Maybe I could invite her over? Mom likely wouldn't get too angry about that... unless Jamie started taking apart the toaster again. Mom took her morning toast seriously.
I was out and on my bike right on time, enjoying the morning. Summer was technically already here, complete with an early wildfire season warning. But the air was fresh and clean, and the birds were singing. The deer were bounding across the road right on cue, and all seemed right with the world. Then of course, in order to mock the wonder inherent in the day, I was forced to enter the dark and slightly dank confines of our local school. Go, completely original wildcats.
And straight into the boredom of the first class.
......
“And this was...?”
I nodded, cutting him off. He was trying to ask the question without asking the question, which was annoying. And my stupid ears were kinking again.
“Yes, this was Thursday, the 19th. THE day.”
I'd thought I had made that clear with the earlier reference to HER. My seatmate held his hands up in defense. Mock defense it had to be, because as angry as I was, the only move I had made had been away from him. Besides, threatening, I was not. He could probably take me, and if he couldn't then the frat boy next to us could.
I stared out the window and massaged my ears under the guise of scratching my head. I could feel the pressure of his eyes boring into my hoodie, my armor against the world.
“The school day was normal. Normal boring classes, standard crappy lunch, an annoying gym class, more normal classes. My only clue that something was up was after school. Amy Milsner is a cheerleader, and asked for my help with something after school....”
......
“Come on Luke, I need strong arms, and everyone else skipped on me.”
I wasn't happy with Amy, but she probably did need the help. No one liked to pick up the gym after school. I still wasn't sure which teacher she had pissed off to get the honors; usually, the honor went to the person that had failed the most in gym class. Normally she had no problem conning people nearby for the honor of helping her, but they had apparently gotten wise.
I was too nice for my own good sometimes.
The gym was empty of course, but several of the banks of lights were out too, and that was odd. It made some large patches of shadow in the large building. Normally if the lights were out, they all were; I smelled something funny at work here. The boxes of freshly delivered equipment we needed to pick up and put away was in the well lit areas at least. We got such deliveries sometimes, and the school didn't want to pay the janitor to move them; he was union. The coaches would probably do it, but they were busy with after school activities.
I started in, Amy of course supervising with a muttered “that box there” and “this one over there”, rolling my eyes. The door that led to the girl's shower opened and Amy jumped me immediately, wrapping her arms around my neck and dragging me down with her weight into a lip-lock so full it was almost painful. When she tried to stick her tongue down my throat though, I all but threw the box occupying my hands and tore free. There were flashes from the corner; Danielle and Marsha were both there with phones in camera mode, happily snapping away.
“What the hell, Amy?”
She was smiling. The gym door swung closed again, but not before I caught sight of the most wonderful and familiar backside in the school.
I should have known. I should have known she was plotting something from the start; it wasn't as if Amy had a shortage of people willing to do her bidding. Even though she already asked me, I should have known. But this? This ploy is one of the oldest plots in the book. And I fell for it.
“Jamie, wait!”
I had to take the long way around; I couldn't go through the girl's showers. I almost did it anyway, and suspension be darned, but Danielle and Marsha were still taking pictures. Video evidence posted online would be bad. Especially if mom saw it.
I pulled out my phone as I ran, my heart growing cold. Letting Jamie draw her own conclusions would be bad; she tended towards the jealous under the best circumstances. I would have expected her to confront us immediately and possibly punch Amy out. She didn't, and I wasn't sure what that meant, but it made me uneasy. Speed dialing her number with my phone on speaker, I could clearly hear the click as she picked up... then a loud sob just before she hung up on me.
The next attempt just rang to voice mail. She must have turned off her phone. Not good, she must really be pissed. I didn't leave a voice mail and the moment I hung up my own phone rang. It wasn't Jamie however.
“Luke, come back. Let's talk about this.”
“I don't think so Amy. I think you'd better forget my number.”
I never regretted giving her my number more than this moment. I hung up on her but for some reason, my phone was now permanently busy no matter what I did. Oh well, not like I wanted to explain what had happened over the phone anyway.
I shaded my eyes against the bright sunshine as I shoulder checked the outer door. Somehow, she was faster than I was. I had taken to walking her to school, to keep the creeps in all their flavors away; I was in great shape, but somehow, I had completely lost her. Sure, I had taken the long way around, but she wasn't even in sight. Checking both directions of the street yielded nothing. Where had she vanished to?
Didn't matter; I knew where she would be headed, or if not, where she would end up. I couldn't run all the way to her house, but I could jog. And perhaps walk very fast. A full jog to her house would take me about twenty minutes. I might even be able to catch up to her.
But wait. When Jamie was upset and wanted to think, well before her mutation, she had always gone to her secret spot. The spot wasn't really that much of a secret, it was in a public spot after all, but it was a copse of trees by a stream were hardly anyone ever went. She had showed me the spot once, and I had a history of finding her there; mostly after she was mad at me or her peers, for some reason or another. Maybe the reason I hadn't seen her, was she had gone there?
Heck, maybe she hadn't come out of the school at all; if I started second guessing myself now, I wouldn't find her until school tomorrow. Her home it was. I set off again, only to be interrupted before I could really open up and get my stride. Danny had a car which he had gotten less than a month before, when he had been allowed to take his driver's test early, somehow. He never had told us exactly how he rated a license at 15, but we had all decided he had bribed some politician with his body and left it at that. We had all been appropriately jealous, admiring the rusted lime green hulk of an early '80's vintage Chevy tank. It was a 'classic' car. He was the first in our class to get both, but many of us were due soon enough. I'd turn 16 and be able to take the test over the summer myself.
And that tank sped up down the street and cut me off with a loud belch of foul smelling smoke.
Amy jumped out of the passenger side; she had always been one to take advantage, and her boyfriend having a car was too good to pass up, even though she had been caught more than once lamenting it's horrible condition. She had even gone so far as to say being seen in something so old and decrepit would ruin her reputation. She was proving what I'd thought of her upon first hearing that; that she was a bit of a drama queen.
I dodged her clumsy grab, and ignored her unusually loud greeting of:
“Hello, lover!”
Seriously, was she trying to piss me off? She started again, trying to match my stride (she couldn't, she wasn't tall enough) and speaking more softly.
“Come on, wait up Luke! Don't be like that.”
“Go away Amy. Just go home or something; I'm not in the mood.”
“Come on, let's talk about it?”
I stopped. Despite my lack of trust in myself, I found my eyes locking with hers. My fingernails were drawing blood from my palms, which was a neat trick considering how short I kept them.
“Fine, let's. How does Danny feel about you all but raping my mouth?”
“You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it,”
I could, and did.
“I didn't enjoy it at all. Now answer my question.”
Now that I'd stopped she leaned into me again. I moved and she all but fell over, pouting. She looked ridiculous.
“Danny is fine with it. Now, why don't you ditch the freak and hang with us? I'll make it worth your while.”
Danny was leaned up against his illegally parked car. He nodded stiffly when I looked his direction, confirming what Amy was telling me without a word. If anything, he seemed happy about it. At least, before he really looked at me. Then I could see the worry spring to life.
“I'm going to forget you said that, Amy. Last chance to walk away.”
She thought I was bluffing. She thought she knew me.
“Or what? You'll hit me?”
“No, I won't hit you. I don't hit girls, at least, not girls that cant fight. But I do know a few girls who can and do, and won't mind doing me a favor. Especially if it's you.”
I can fight dirty when I have to, and she was forcing my hand. She raised her hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright, I'm gone. But keep me in mind when you come to your senses, O.K.? I'll be waiting.”
She turned around and added some extra wiggle to her hips as she walked off with a laugh. I could hear my teeth creaking so I unwound my jaw; it took more effort than I liked. Deep, calming breaths Luke. In; out. I resumed my run as Danny's car drove off the opposite direction. Good, at least they weren't going to start something by following me or trying to beat me to Jamie's house.
Bright side, at least now I knew I couldn't trust them.
I was winded by the time I made it to Jamie's house. There were no cars in the drive; had Mrs. Howe driven somewhere? I knocked loudly on the door, then took three steps back so that Jamie could look out her window and see who it was. The curtains didn't move. No one answered. I knocked and backed up again. I fought down the urge to yell for her since the house was rather well insulated and she likely wouldn't hear me.
A few more knocks convinced me that no one was home. Or that Jamie was so pissed she wasn't answering the door. Trying the knob, I found it locked, and that clinched it. I couldn't break in, no matter what the circumstances.
I checked the back yard just to be sure; she wasn't there. I turned my phone back on and it immediately beeped with a text.
Heard what happened. Saw Jamie near 44. - Clayton.
Clayton was a neutral party in all this; well mostly, he was an old friend of mine, and whatever rumor he had heard, (how had those flown so fast, anyway? That was almost faster than a cell phone call... I obviously had a few witnesses to pound later on sheer principle) he would take with plenty of salt. Near 44 she could only be on that old service road that led to her special place. Which was, unfortunately, on the opposite end of town, some forty minutes away, again at a jog. Wonder how long ago the message was sent.
I couldn't get a car fast enough. If mom were at home, I'd go there and con her into giving me a ride; it'd be slightly faster, and my mom liked Jamie. Jamie liked my mom too, so that might help the fallout. I was pretty sure I was going to have to talk fast regardless, though the more time that went by, the more she'd calm down. Maybe.
I started off again. My phone stayed silent, thankfully. When I tried to dial Jamie's however, it was still busy or off. So I composed a text of my own while keeping an eye out for traffic. I couldn't quite keep the frustration out of it:
Jamie, we're being played by Amy. It was all a setup. Please talk to me. Let me know where you are, I'm looking.
I was in reasonably good shape, but I couldn't run all the way there. I gave it my best shot anyway, and by the time I reached the service road I was half wishing Danny would show up again just so I could get a ride. Luckily, Jamie wasn't ever really the most in tune with nature; her spot was only a few hundred yards down the road, and off to the left.
It was a beautiful spot overlooking a gorge an old creek had cut into the bedrock, probably a million years ago, with large old growth trees all around but an unimpeded view of many a sunset, including this one. The sun was just beginning to dip and just starting to spread it's red and gold hues across the sky. I was later than I thought.
As beautiful as the site was, the spot was empty. I searched around just to make sure she hadn't hidden herself anywhere nearby (I doubted she would even as pissed as she was, she didn't like getting dirty) and nothing. Had I missed her somehow? There were two routes out from town to this service road, had she taken the other, the longer route from her house?
I didn't know for sure, but something smelled a bit fishy, here. Perhaps this was a bit bigger than just Amy and Danny? If so, then I had to hurry; there was no telling what was else was going on behind my back. I took off again, calling mom; she had to be close to getting out of her car now if she wasn't in it. She answered after the first ring; good, I hadn't caught her on the road; she was home.
“Luke, what's up?”
“Gonna be late today.”
“You don't say?”
I smacked myself on the forehead; of course I was going to be late; I was already late.
“So why are you going to be late?”
I had to dodge a car before I answered.
“Some drama at school happened. Going to head over to Jamie's and get it sorted out. Going to take me maybe an hour.”
She didn't read too much into it, thank God. “Alright. Dinner will be on the table. Try and make it home before dark. If something comes up, call me and I'll come get you.”
“Mom, not a little kid. I can be out when the street lights come on.”
“Sure you can... just not when I say you can't. Do what you need to, but hurry home or you don't eat.”
Ouch, she really knew how to hit where it hurt. My stomach was already rumbling in sympathy.
“As soon as possible.”
And I started off again, this time racing the sun. Jamie had to be home by now; she was too much of a shut-in lately, too sensitive a bout the others reactions to her lately, and well... just too invested in making strange tech crap to stay away from it for long. She had already been away from her projects the entire school day and then some, so she had to be hard at work by now.
I was getting more exercise today than I had the previous week; yet another exhausting forty minutes later and I was back at Jamie's house. This time her mom and dad were home at the very least, cars pulled up side by side and one of them still making that ticking noise cars tend to do when cooling down.
I wasted no time knocking on the door. Mr. Howe wasted no time in answering; I could tell he had just gotten home.
“Hello Luke, come on in. I think Jamie's in her room.”
She probably was. That was where the magic happened; her parents wouldn't let her do her thing anywhere else. She had tried to explain it to me once; the pressure, the need to create things, like an itch that needed scratching. I didn't think I could every really understand it, but then I didn't need to. Hopefully, she was immersed in her work and calm by now.
“Thanks, Mr. Howe. Do you know how long she's been home?”
He shook his head while pulling off his tie and plopping into his favorite chair with a sigh.
“No, just got home myself. Probably since school let out though?”
“I don't think so sir, I've been looking for her. I knocked earlier, and there was no answer.”
Mr. Howe puzzled over that.
“Odd, Sydney should have been home. Sydney!”
I started up the steps just in time to nearly run Mrs. Howe over.
She was wide-eyed and pale, wring her hands, the very picture of nerves. There were even stains on her dress; something dark. Oil maybe? Had she been helping Jamie?
“You shouldn't be here.”
She said it in a whispered rush, and I began to get the feeling something was very wrong.
“Why? What's going on?”
Her voice gained strength and command.
“You betrayed her, and you really shouldn't be here! Leave, now!”
My heart twisted as the muffled sing-song voice erupted behind Mrs. Howe.
“Oh, Luuuuke... is that you? Could you come here for a minute please?”
Mrs. Howe grabbed my arm as I drew even with her; eyes even wider than before, entire face pleading without words. She was terrified. I moved back a step and was rewarded with silent gratitude.
“Oh, Luke... don't keep me waiting, stud. I have a surprise for you.”
There was something... manic in her voice. Perhaps discretion was the better part of valor here after all? Mrs. Howe certainly seemed to think so. But no, I had to face the music and explain things. I had to set this right. A step, and Jamie's door splintered. She stood there, blood dripping from her left hand and framed by the hall light. What I could see of her face was all twisted; wrong.
And in her right hand she held some sort of gun.
“Jamie, I need to....”
She raised the gun and fired; it released an eye-searing coruscating beam of energy that missed me when Mrs. Howe pushed me down the stairs; she following right behind me to avoid the beam herself.
I landed well and moved again, dodging her next shot and speeding past Mr. Howe, who seemed frozen with his mouth open.
“Come on Luke, stand still; it won't hurt... much.”
Mrs. Howe seemed to be OK; at least she was moving. I couldn't really check on her while Jamie was doing her Carrie impression. I needed to get out of here; outside I'd have more options.
“Come on Jamie, it was Amy! She did it all, trying to drive us apart!”
The door was too solid to jump through, but I tried before opening it. I risked a look back; Jamie had stopped at the foot of the stairs and was aiming her gun at me. It almost looked familiar, somehow.
“Luke... lover. You have her lipstick on your shirt.”
I dove through as she fired again, this one made my hair stand up. My shoulder bounced painfully off the sidewalk and I scrambled up. Turning around revealed that Jamie was standing in the doorway, less than ten feet away. There was no cover, nothing at all in range to hide behind, and dodging would be 50/50. Talking was my best bet, though I didn't hold any hope of that at all. I was going to die, killed by Amy's stupid grade school plot. The ray gun started to emit a high-pitched whine; Jamie's inventions weren't always stable, and the more rushed, the less stable: maybe it was breaking?
“Jamie, please. I was set up. We were set up! I'd never cheat on you, please listen!”
Her hand twitched, and I bolted for the cars, the only cover close enough. I had one last moment of clarity when I realized I had been had; I had calculated wrong, and the beam hit me just as Jamie disappeared from view behind her father's car. At first, it was a feeling like being in a meat locker; everything was bitterly cold. Then every nerve lit up, and I realized I was on fire. My entire body was on fire, every inch. Distantly I heard screams that made me worry; piteous pain filled wails. I rolled as best I could but my body refused to respond; hopefully that would put out the fire.
My last sight was Jamie, pure horror on her face, sparking gun held limply at her side, and her voice, clear as a bell through the screams I now realized were my own.
“Luke?”
......
“Jamie, no!”
I came fully awake realizing that I was already sitting up, hands outstretched and shout dying on my lips. A look at white tile, white painted walls, a white sheeted bed, with tented sheets over my legs, and it came to me; I was in a hospital.
And then mom was there, crushing me with a hug.
I felt no pain, even as mom's weight forced me back onto the bed. I had been on fire; I know I had. Jamie had... shot me with a gun. So how long had I been out? The only pain I felt was... from my tailbone?
“Luke, oh Luke....”
“Mom, what's going on?”
My voice sounded odd; higher. I tried to raise up, something I could have done easily before, I found myself pinned now as my mother cried over me. I went cold. Had I been in a coma for years or something? My voice was rough, as if I hadn't had water in a year, but under that, there was something else wrong with it too.
“Mom, tell me: how bad is it?”
She loosened up for a bit, looking into my eyes, before crushing me again with another hug and beginning to cry again, this time painfully loudly in my ear. I flinched; it was too loud!
Something on my head twitched and moved in response, and the noise became slightly less.
The door opened; mom didn't even seem to notice until a voice rang out. It was pleasant, sultry, yet it was even louder than the crying.
“Rella, Got your coffee. You wouldn't believe the lines in the cafeteria! Took forever... oh, hello. You're awake, good morning!”
The body attached to the voice was quite simply, amazing. Covered in a well-cut dark blue business suit was a tall statuesque blonde. She looked every inch the magazine model she was, dressed up to impersonate a secretary or something. And she was easily recognized, by the large white furred ears sticking straight up from her head. I knew there would be a large puffball over her butt. I couldn't see them clearly from here, but I even knew her eyes were a rich chocolate brown.
This was the Iron Bunny, a retired superhero.
Everyone from this area knew who she was; a retired super who had been active in the 70's, she was a successful model for Playboy and a few other magazines, knew Hugh Hefner and several other big shots like Hollywood actors and directors personally, and donated to several charities and institutions yearly... like the Redding school district, which had used the cash last year to construct a new score board that hardly anyone but the football team ever used.
But what was she doing here? Was she a client of mom's? Mom usually did get tapped to handle high profile clients. Was she here for moral support or something? Were she and mom friends? I had heard some weird rumors about Iron Bunny. The shortened name seemed to indicate they were friendly at least.
Whatever her reasons for being here, she immediately crossed the distance in two long strides, set the two cups of coffee down, and began to gently peel my mom off me.
“Rella, come on. Ease up, you're scaring the poor kid. Let go, at least for now.”
She was right about that at least. My mom managed to tear herself away from me, reluctantly and I took stock. Something was wrong with me still; my body was covered in a sheet, but my arms weren't. They weren't bandaged either, as I'd expect from a burn victims arms. They did seem smaller than I remembered them being however, with no visible hair at all. And my hands... they were downright delicate looking.
I shifted uneasily, trying to get comfortable; the pressure on my spine eased.
“How long have I been out?”
My voice was definitely different, and louder than I remembered; I lowered it. Mom wiped her eyes, which only stemmed the flow, and answered.
“Almost a full week. After Jamie... shot you, you were in a coma; it's the 26th.”
I remembered now, the terror, the empty look in Jamie's eyes, my own brief burst of desire to know which direction she was going to shoot... and the pain. But again, there were no burns. No pain or wounds that I could feel; had the gun just been some sort of pain gun? Had I hallucinated the fire that flowed along every inch of skin?
No, there was something my mom wasn't telling me; she seemed at an honest loss for words.
“The weapon... thing, that Jamie shot you with Luke. It wasn't designed to kill.”
Her words further jogged my memory, and knocked something loose. A connection I had been a little too focused on survival to make. The gun Jamie had shot me with... had had a lot in common with her machine designed to alter mutants.
“Oh God, what did it do?”
Something, the distracting things on my head, twitched again in response to my shout. I could feel something moving up there, yet there weren't supposed to be any muscles or moving parts on the top of ones head. Not to mention the whole loud sounds hurting thing.
I reached up but mom caught my hands. Iron bunny went to the other side of my bed, face serious. Dear God, what was it? Was I so hideously disfigured?
“Steel yourself, Luke.”
Before I could respond the Iron Bunny flung a sheet aside, revealing a full-length mirror and the probable reason for her visit in all too horrible clarity.
We could have been sisters.
Sure, I still could see my mom in me, now more than ever; I still had the same olive complexion, her cheekbones, her large eyes... but my hair was beginning to go from brown to a darker color at the roots, my eyes were now an arresting shade of purple that clearly showed off the flecks of gold within, and my nose was almost a spitting image of the one Iron Bunny sported, same slight tilt upwards and everything.
I could easily be mistaken for Iron Bunny's sister, or my mom's daughter, depending on who I was standing next to. Of course, I shared the second and third most arresting traits of Iron bunny as well, furthering that illusion in a big way. Two absolutely large rabbit like ears raised from my hair; they were covered in short black fur shot through with purple that seemed to reflect the harsh halogen lighting.
And there in the mirror, past where the sheet pooled around me, where my spine would normally end, was the impression of a rather large bulge. No doubt my new tail. We were all three related, and there were no men in the room; chest or not, I was sure of that fact. There was still some traces of me left, but those were few and minor. The shape of the chin; the bridge of the nose.
Fingers snapped suddenly in my ear; I was being hugged tightly again while I stared into the Iron Bunny's concern filled chocolate eyes, she had crossed the distance when I didn't notice. She sat back with a sigh.
“She's back, Rella. Think you can hit her with the rest.”
Mom took a breath, holding a finger to my lips as I opened them.
“I'll answer all your questions. Just let me try and get through this. Alright, to start off, you can guess now that that.... bitch shot you with her own invention; the very invention you were helping her with. The device was supposed to cure certain genetic conditions or mutations in people by overwriting them with code from another; a way to remove non-beneficial mutations.”
I tried to get a word in edgewise, but Mom shushed me again.
“Not yet dear. Now, the machine is supposed to be a therapeutic device, requiring many uses for the requisite gene therapy. Not to mention it wasn't actually working. I'm taking all this from Jamie's own statement to the police, you understand.”
Jamie had been arrested, and Mom knew how to get a hold of police statements somehow. She read the look on my face.
“Aggravated assault with a weapon.”
I nodded. In the mirror I saw my ears droop to coat the side of my head. She hadn't known what she was doing; I was positive of that. The reflection of those large eyes glistened wetly in the betraying light.
“Anyway, unknown to the world at large, apparently the machine was designed to add mutant traits as well as subtract them, by the same method; that... person planned to use it to give herself a better body,” Well Jamie had always been rather vain. “When she became angry with you, she decided to punish you. Her punishment consisted of testing her devise on you, in order to make you... well, in her words, in order to make you the whore you were.”
I was wrong; there was pain after all. Had my heart stopped?
“But, how does that make any sense at all? She thought I had cheated on her, so why zap me into.... this?”
It made no sense at all. I didn't like mom's look.
“I didn't cheat on her mom, I never even touched Amy. She planned the whole stupid stunt in order to break us up.”
I had to fight hard to bury the hysterical laughter. Amy had definitely succeeded in opening a rift between Jamie and I.
“Baby, I know. Everyone knows that now. No, that person... Jamie.” She had to struggle with the name. “Jamie has diedricks; the devisor mental disease. When she gets angry, when she snaps, she won't often make any sense at all. No one knows what she was thinking that night, she's lawyered up and stopped talking.”
I remembered her face; the feeling that the real Jamie wasn't home. How she hadn't even wanted to listen to me. I didn't want to believe it; not of her. She had seemed so normal, for months!
“But she hasn't done anything like this before!”
The Iron Bunny interrupted.
“From what I've seen of her file, there were signs of it. The theory we're going with is, well, it's grim. The normal episodic fits of diedricks was over-ruled by a more severe mental illness; as a result, when last week happened, the pressure finally became too much.”
They didn't want to tell me what the 'more severe mental illness' was, but I could guess.
There had to be a way to fix this. If I could talk to Jamie, now that she was calm... maybe. One look in the mirror stopped me. But I couldn't talk to her like this; not looking like a relative of this larger than life icon in front of me.
“So the cops have the gun, right?” I could endure a little pain to go back to normal.
Unease. The tension in the room became thicker with just those seven words. The Iron Bunny's gaze got as hard as her namesake.
“We aren't done explaining just what happened yet.”
I suddenly knew why she was here; the mirror made it clear enough after all. Yes she and Mom knew each other, but there was more to it than that.
“To fully explain what's happened to you, I have to explain a little more about mutations. There is another kind of mutation, the kind that Jamie was trying to harness; it's called a BIT, or body image template. It's my kind of mutation.”
I nodded; I'd read and heard some of this before around Jamie, after all. Jamie had said they all shared the most attractive traits of humanity, looking universally movie star good. I could definitely see it in her though the ears seemed a bit off-putting on that score to me. After all, human they were not. Then again at the moment my own were flopping around as I nodded, so who was I to judge?
“Body image template is a sort of blueprint for your body to follow. The reason for all the interest in modifying them, even temporarily, is that thus far they have proven permanent; even many drugs or processes that affect the majority of humanity are ignored by those with BIT's. My own BIT has a few things in it that I'd like gone... and so I donated my information to the project she was working on, in the hopes that something beneficial would come of the research, and my own unique condition could be cured. Jamie used my body image template to attack you.”
I thought as much... but wait, if they were permanent then...!
“You mean I'm stuck like this? Jamie's gun made this permanent, and it can't fix me?”
How could a brainiac mutant make a condition that couldn't be fixed? She took a breath and forged into the teeth of my burgeoning horror.
“I'm saying we don't dare try. Somehow Jamie's devise overwrote a large portion of your genetic code, almost in an instant, with my body image template. It shouldn't even be possible to do that, not the way it was done, and so far you haven't reverted. Which means the transformation is likely stable... but anything done to it, any tinkering at all, could make it worse. The best minds around here say that barring what's left of your own genetics rejecting my foreign BIT, something that carries huge risks to your health on it's own, you're stuck this way.”
I wanted to curl up and wait for the world to go away, so I did.
......
I hadn't been out long; at least I didn't think so. I found myself on Iron Bunny's lap, with said celebrity running one hand through my hair while the other scratched the base of my new left ear. It felt... nice. I jumped up, embarrassed, and Iron Bunny let me go with a faint smirk. What she was doing... shouldn't have felt that good. But she knew somehow. My mom was watching, though her face only showed her concern.
“Are you alright, Luke?”
“Yeah, I think so. I'm sorry, I... don't know what came over me, exactly.”
I glanced at the mirror, and it betrayed me all over again by showing three females in it. The bitter thought came unbidden; why should it be any different than the people in the world? I looked again at the thin mud haired teen. Her roots were black, I could see now; black to match her ear fur.
“Am I really stuck like this? For life?”
Mom hugged me again, sandwiching me into Iron Bunny, who didn't seem to mind as she answered.
“Either for life kiddo, or for long enough that it shouldn't matter. Without knowing how BIT's work, regular science can't do a thing, and devisor science... well even if they could do something, it would mean dealing with the devisors themselves. There is one in Karedonia that might be able to manage it for example... but only by turning you into something worse. And the price for the cure would be slavery. Best not even try that route.”
Wait, wasn't that what she was trying to do when she sent her info to Jamie? Or maybe she thought it was just going to be research? No, something didn't ring true about that, but I'd have to ask later.
“Luke, there's more.”
Oh great. How could this get any worse? How could any of this get any worse? Before I could ask, Mom answered me.
“The media got a hold of the story. It's been the top story for the twenty-four-hour news feed for the last several days; and the internet has been even more... virulent. Worse, not all of the press has been favorable; some of it has been downright slanderous.”
So, not only have I been turned into an inhuman mutant, not only have I been turned into a girl, not only was there no fix for the situation but now the press was talking shit about me when I was in a coma and couldn't even defend myself? What the hell was wrong with people? Iron Bunny interrupted my train of thought in the worst way possible.
“Well, there is that, but that wasn't what I was talking about.”
“There's even more?”
Before I could tell her I didn't want to know, she nodded and continued.
“The BIT you were hit with... it was mine. I can see you figured that out already. But we don't know how much of it came through, or what else Jamie might have tried to add, so you may not be out of the woods yet. Though the good news is, my BIT does include some regeneration, so if she tried to do something weird the chances are it'll get rejected.”
This was all so surreal, so far beyond reality that I couldn't accept it. I was still stuck on Iron Bunny being in my room, and apparently knowing mom. I wanted nothing more than all these tubes and machines unhooked, and to be away from here.
“Do I have to stay here? Can we please leave?”
Mom frowned as Iron Bunny jumped up.
“I can check, though my first guess is the doctors will want to keep you overnight for observation.”
Weird, how could she check? We weren't related, she shouldn't be able to ask about my treatment at all... unless mom put her on the list of relatives.
Mom was stroking my hair and ears as we hugged; she wouldn't let me go.
“I'm sorry mom.”
Her grip tightened as she shifted, looking into my eyes.
“You have nothing to apologize for, to me or anyone else. Though I would like to know, what exactly happened?”
I told her. About midway through, Iron Bunny returned, but she didn't interrupt. When I was finished she shook her head in wonder.
“So the MCO actually got it right, this once. Wonders will never cease.”
I looked at her blankly.
“Right, I'll um, let your mom explain that one. The doctors say it's a no go kiddo, you have to stay here overnight. If nothing happens by morning, we can discharge you and take you home.”
Mom sighed and shot the celebrity a look that made her hunch her shoulders defensively. Then she looked at me, that earlier serious look returning.
“I suppose I should tell you about the press, so you aren't surprised, but I'll let you make the choice. Would you like to know?”
She really didn't want to tell me; she didn't want to add another shock right now, I was sure. But I was always the kind of kid to rip the band aid off quickly... and really, what was one more screwed up thing to dump on me at this point?
“Go for it mom. I should probably hear it from you.”
She sighed and forged ahead.
“Well, the press are... interested in the sensational. Your story qualifies. As such they have been covering it from the beginning, and it's national, maybe even world news by this point. I haven't been inclined to follow everything, but you've been portrayed as everything from an innocent victim of an evil mutant, to... to a teenage man-slut who got what he deserved for cheating on an innocent mutant.”
She was picking her words carefully, and yet that spilled out. Which meant that I had probably been called worse, and that was the best of the worst she could think of to mention to me. I swallowed my outrage with real effort; I had heard of past attempts at character assassination from mom before, but never my own. Iron Bunny piped up, her words a distraction.
“Yeah, it's actually been all kinds of twilight zone; the MCO and pro-mutant crowds both have been having a field day with it, though currently public opinion is favorable to you at the moment. The police are backing the MCO's version of events, and your story matches both.”
Mom and Iron Bunny's eyes both got huge at the same time; the effect would have been comical under other circumstances.
“Oh crap, the police! They are going to want a statement from you. We should call them in.”
I really did not want to deal with the police right now; I didn't want to make all this any more real.
“The moment we call the police in, the press are going to know and start up full force again.”
Mom shrugged.
“It can't be helped. We already screwed up a bit by telling Luke what happened, though I wasn't about to follow that stupid request that we keep her in the dark anyway.”
Now that I could agree on.
“I think I'd have been most upset to find bunny ears and a tail, and receive no explanation for them.”
“Exactly.”
So I waited while the police were called, slowly going a bit stir crazy. Mom had vetoed any television, so it stayed silent in the corner. She had also vetoed any internet use, and wouldn't hand me my phone, if my phone even still worked. I'm not sure I blamed her for either decision, but it left me staring at Iron Bunny, looking for similarities between us.
She seemed to be doing the same thing.
The police must have been waiting for the call; really that's the only reason I could think of for some middle aged guy in an ill fitting suit that showed off the beginnings of his spare tire to the world to walk in a mere fifteen minutes after mom had ducked out to make the call. He walked into the combined stares of all three of us without so much as a flinch, though he did plop down into an extra chair with a sigh when he realized I was more informed than he wanted.
“Detective Gosser, miss Del bosque. I'd like to ask you a few questions about the 19th, if I may.”
It took a moment to realize he had said miss, and not ms. He was talking to me, not my mom.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Ah, one second.”
He pulled a small voice recorder from his pocket and made a show of speaking into it.
“This is detective Boyd Gosser questioning Lucretia del Bosque over the event that occurred May 19th, 2016.”
Lucretia? I looked at my mom, while she did her best to look innocent. Lucretia had been my grandmother's name, and Luke had been mom's way of naming me after her. I had already suspected what my name would have been had I been born a girl. We needed to have words, later.
“Please, in your own words, explain what happened last week; everything you can remember.”
I did so, already bored of telling this story. Repetition didn't make it any easier; the opposite in fact. All it did was drive home all that happened. I tried very hard not to cry again; I didn't want my embarrassing, blubbering tears to be a matter of public record. I failed, but managed to keep it together enough to finish. Then came all the questions; what else I saw, what else I remembered. The sun was setting and my throat was dry and raw by the time he turned his recorder off. Iron bunny picked up on that.
“I'll go get you something to drink.”
She left quietly as the detective retrieved the device. I had to ask.
“So what happens now?”
He paused, still showing no emotion. He must clean house on poker night.
“Now we prosecute. With your statement and all the corroborating evidence, we have a clear cut case of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. Jamie Howe is going to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”
My mom was probably going to take this the wrong way, but I had to ask.
“You don't... need me to press charges?”
He shook his head, still unreadable.
“Your mother and the state are pressing charges, miss del Bosque. You are a minor.”
The meaning was loud and clear; while my being on board would help, it wasn't necessary, and any lack of support on my part wouldn't change a thing. I wasn't sure whether I would have pressed charges had it been up to me. I wasn't sure what to feel at all, other than drained.
“I understand. So, will you need me for anything else?”
“I don't believe so, though if I do, I'll let you know.”
“Of course.”
He left as Iron Bunny came back. She handed me a wonderfully chilled snapple, which I wasted no time at all downing. Then she pulled another from behind her back and placed it in my hands with a smirk; that one I took my time with.
“I don't blame you; water is for fish. You hungry at all?”
I shook my head. My stomach flopped dangerously at the very idea.
“Alright. Best not to ignore it if you are. How about the bathroom? Need that?”
I didn't, and I really didn't want to think about what that meant. How would I ever look at the nurses who took care of me without dying of embarrassment? And of course, just as I was thinking of the devil, one came in. I had wondered where the staff of the hospital had been up to this point.
She was mid twenties, brown hair and brown-eyed, about 5 foot 6 inches and with a lithe build. She had a ready grin and soft voice, and I bet she was pretty popular on this floor.
“Sorry you two, visiting hours are over. I'm afraid I will have to insist on it today. Go home, get some sleep.”
“Right, right. Oops, almost forgot.”
Ibby reached over into my personal space and fiddled with my ears. I couldn't even move her arms and she ignored my efforts. I felt something snap gently on each ear, and her massive bust retreated. As soon as she backed up I warily put my hands to my new appendages; each one sported some kind of clip near the base.
“There. You'll thank me later. Those clips are like mine.”
She pointed out a pair of small boxy clips that were painted white, and mostly blended into her own white furred ears while she continued explaining.
“They act as noise filtering devices, automatically lowering the volume of loud noises to manageable levels. I'd leave them in, without them sounds like doors slamming or hospital alarms could be painful.”
Joy. I'd noticed everyone being mostly quiet around me, but hadn't thought of the reason before. It should have been obvious. I pulled my hands away from the small devices. They felt weird and heavy, but at least they hadn't pierced my ears or something.
“They do come off, right? You didn't just....”
“Oh, no, they can come out. There is a switch on the bottom of each that releases them, when you need to replace the batteries or something. I'll bring the spares and the recharge station later... got to go!”
The nurse, still with that smile, started to push her out of the room; Ibby did not resist, but simply waved dramatically as she was shoved out of sight.
Mom stayed another moment, staring at me. Then before the nurse could interrupt, she gave me another crushing hug and left. I hoped she would be able to sleep; those chairs did not look comfortable, and I didn't doubt for a moment that she had spent the week in the one by my bed. For some reason, I felt tired myself, which seemed insane considering all the sleeping I had been doing.
“So, um, nurse' I looked at her name tag - “Jessica, How am I?”
She pulled out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.
“Healthy, as best we can tell. I'm just here to get the standard metrics and compare them to the last week. You hungry at all?”
“No. why are you the first person I've seen? I mean, I would have thought being in a coma was a bigger deal here.”
“Well, the doctors did examine you earlier, gave you a pretty good once over. But as I understand it you were a bit out of it at the time, so it isn't surprising you don't remember. You had quite a shock to get over after all. And I'll bring you something to snack on in case you change your mind. For now, you should get some rest... right after I take some blood.”
As she pulled out the needle, still wearing that smile, I surrendered to the inevitable, looked away and presented my arm. I hated needles. I felt the needle and the tell-tale pull but she was fast.
She went on to my eyes, ears, and throat, scribbling stuff on my chart in that impossible to read jargon all medical professionals seemed to share.
“Well?”
I hated myself for asking.
“Perfectly healthy, all vitals green and no evidence of any infections. You had an MRI while still under, and the results for that came back today; negative on any lumps, growths, or other concerns. I'll be checking you again during the night, and the doctors will check you again in the morning, but your prognosis is that you're stable and healthy.”
Stable and healthy. As a bunny girl. With no way back; or at least no safe way back. Yay, me. The nurse reminded me she was still here.
“Hey. Don't give me that look; it could have been much worse. I've dealt with devisor tech before, and most of the time it goes wrong. And when it goes wrong, it goes very wrong. You're alive, and that's what counts.”
She seemed to want a response, so I nodded and she left, satisfied.
The television remote was near, but I didn't want to touch it. I didn't want to deal with whatever the news was saying about me, not right now. My phone was gone, for obvious reasons probably, and there was nothing that could access the internet in my room. There wasn't even a roommate to talk to; probably because they were worried about me being dangerous somehow, but it was still depressing.
Sleep seemed like the best plan at the moment.
......
I don't know when it was exactly, but the moon was shining into my window when something woke me up. I just lay there, trying to figure out what it had been. Maybe the night nurse, Jessica? She had already been by to check on me twice, waking me up both times to take my pulse and blood pressure, and I suspected just to see if I was stable and hadn't lapsed into a coma again.
No, it had been the door. But the footsteps I was hearing entering were less open, more... furtive. A faint clink informed me that my chart was being read. A doctor, then?
“Jessica? Is that you?”
I winced over my voice, it kept surprising me, but at least it was clear. The movements and breathing had stilled. Something was wrong here, very wrong. I hit the call button on my hospital bracelet, and rolled over to try and get a better look. A flash blinded me, and then I think there was another. I fumbled my way out of bed; was I being attacked again, or something? There was no pain, but....
The nurse came in, flipping the light.
“Luke, you alright?”
We both froze. There was a man in my room, with my chart in one hand, and a small camera in the other. He was rather tall but plain faced, and dressed in some tasteful slacks and a polo shirt. But despite him having a doctor's coat on over that, it was clear from the look on Jessica's face that he wasn't supposed to be there. Nurse Jessica didn't even hesitate, turning right around and shouting for security with a bellow that made the man wince. I was sure I'd have found that shout painful too, if not for the clips still in my ears.
The man was at my bedside in an instant, pressing something into my hand.
“Kurt Carmen, associated press. Please call me as soon as possible.”
And then he was gone, pushing past Jessica. A moment later I caught sight of two uniformed men chasing after him, just before the door closed. I looked; he had given me a business card with three phone numbers and a web address. Jessica immediately walked over and took it.
“I'm sorry about that. We've been doing what we could to keep them out, but apparently the guy on shift, Artie, decided to go on coffee break and not tell anyone. He will be reprimanded for it.”
That was all fine and good I guess, but it left out a pretty big question.
“What the heck was all that about?”
“Oh, you don't know?”
“Know what?" Mom and Ibby had said some things about the press earlier, but I had been having a good freak out earlier. Did that have something to do with this?
Jessica looked uneasy suddenly.
“Sorry, I shouldn't be the one to tell you this. But the press got a hold of your case, and are having a field day with it. Every day we've had to turn away reporters, and every night is a struggle too. That guy is the first one to get so close though. Don't worry, security has the floor locked down. They'll catch him.”
I was more worried about those flashes. Had I been fully covered when they occurred?
“He took photos.”
“I know kiddo, we'll get those too. He won't be able to send them inside the hospital, and we are perfectly within our rights to wipe the memory card and throw the book at him. Da- err darn ambulance chaser.”
I felt the corners of my lips tug up briefly. Then really focused; mom had told me there was a media circus going on over my case, but big enough to break into a hospital after hours? Seemed silly. Unreal. I couldn't process it.
A shift caught my attention; Jessica sitting down beside me.
“Hey, don't worry. It'll be O.K. I see all kinds of people come through here, in all kinds of conditions. They all share one thing. They all fight, win or lose. The guy next door from you? He's eighty and has both kidneys failing. He also has a weak heart. Both are the result of some sort of poisoning event in his past. I can't tell you what it is, exactly. What I can tell you is that he isn't giving up at all, he's a crusty old fart.
What I'm trying to say is, don't dwell on it. He didn't. The others on this floor haven't either. Live entirely in the moment if you have to, but don't let things overwhelm you. If you can't think about the future, if you feel lost, just don't think about it; you'll have plenty of time for that later.”
Sound advice... maybe. I wasn't so sure.
“Now, since I'm here, let's go ahead and get the next check out of the way!”
She bounced up and flipped the lights off, pulling out that blinding penlight of hers.
......
My seatmate interrupted, so I finished off my drink. Something about the plane cabin made my throat dry up faster.
“So, I don't remember any photos of you in hospital garb....”
“Nah, security caught the guy, true to Jessica's word. He never made it to the roof, where apparently he might have been able to get a signal over his blocked phone; they tackled him on the stairwell and then brought him back. I verified it was the guy, we made sure the phone was the same one, with the same memory stick, then destroyed both in front of him.”
“I bet that went over well.”
I smiled at the memory.
“He cried like a baby. Apparently the phone was pretty expensive. They ended up arresting him too; the detective in charge said I wouldn't have to do anything. I later heard he got probation and banned from entering that particular hospital again.”
It was kind of a good thing he wasn't local, come to think of it; that hospital was the best one in the entire county.
“Just desserts I say. Trying to take pictures of a minor while in a hospital is fairly deplorable.”
“Well I can't really argue with you there; some people are truly smarmy. Anyway, the staff didn't find anything unusual, or more unusual than normal I guess, and I was allowed to get some sleep....”
......
Sleeping sucked. Or rather, the act of trying to get to sleep when you had a tail that just seemed to be a piece of spine and a million clusters of sensitive nerve endings prevented you from finding a good position to sleep on your back. So of course, sleeping on your stomach was a no go because you had a sensitive... front, and couldn't lay flush against the mattress that way either.
And no matter what you tried, your stupid ears and hair tangled themselves and got in the way.
Some people got daily reminders of how much life hated them; I got up-to-the-second updates.
So it was a bit of a surprise when the nurse (a different one than the night nurse, named Peggy by her tag) woke me up by opening the blinds.
“Up and at 'em, kiddo! Got some last minute things to do, then you'll be out of here. Breakfast first, of course!”
I pulled myself up as she wheeled one of those hospital trays that fit over a bed over; I even managed not to catch something or get tangled up. She pulled the cover off with a smile to reveal… oatmeal, toast, and juice. It didn't even look to be the good stuff.
“I know that look. Eat up! It don't matter if you don't like it, your body needs food. If you don't eat it, you don't get released.”
I ate, and we studied each other over my food. She literally sat down and watched me eat it, which seemed a little odd to me; surely she had something better to do? I'd have asked her except it was rude to talk with your mouth full, and I was starving. I tried to take it slow though; if Mom walked in and saw me pigging out it wouldn't go well for me.
I looked up as I finished, and saw the nurse doing a crossword puzzle while waiting for me. I knew she hadn't left, of course. I also knew the patient a few doors down from me had a really nasty cough, and his door was open. Or maybe it was a her with a nasty cold, it wouldn't do to assume. The nurse looked up after a moment and started.
“Oh, sorry. Let me just clear the tray and we can get going.”
“Excuse me, but why did you stay in here? Is something wrong?”
She laughed. “No more than the usual; and I stayed because hospital food isn't always agreeable to everyone, and I'd rather hold a bucket than a mop.”
Well, that made sense, in a totally disheartening way.
“Alright, so, testing.”
She wheeled up a wheelchair; and of course she was serious.
“I feel fine; can't I just walk there?”
I was lying of course; I felt weird, a stranger inside my own skin, and probably always would. This body… it wasn't really mine. Peggy seemed to be on to the ruse.
“Nope! Hospital rules – even if you weren't a coma patient on the mend, you'd have to take a seat; so take a seat.”
I took the seat, and she wheeled me down the halls. It only took a few feet to wish I'd had something a little less flimsy and a little more covering that the gown I was wearing; something like a box, or a bag over my head. People were staring, and they weren't even being subtle about it. I scrunched up as best I could so they had less to stare at; it didn't really work.
The halls were nearly deserted at least, as well as the back elevator Peggy wheeled me into. There were actual cops in the halls, placed at the elevators and nurse's station. Were they here for me? Because of that guy last night? Four cops seemed too many for that.
The first test was X-rays. Standing in front of a machine with only socks to cut the cold of the tile floor while that irritating hum droned on. The doctors and nurses just put their heads together and whispered, but wouldn't show me the actual results. The only thing I could tell from the glimpse I caught was that my new tail did in fact have bone in it. They broke after a few minutes and Peggy came back.
“Well?”
“Well, everything looks normal to us. We'll be sending it off to an expert to give it a better look.”
“Normal, how?”
“Good bone density, good structure, well placed, good looking marrow. So far as we can see no tumors or cysts, no odd growths of any kind, internally. So, normal.”
Well, that was good I guess. Peggy wasted no time leading me back to the chair. Obligingly I got in.
“So, next test is the MRI. We've had one every day you've been here, to document changes. Doctor Ladoga, that's the specialist in charge of your case, wants the clean sweep. Now, there are two choices here; the first is we can sedate you, and the second is you can simply lay in the machine for an hour without moving.”
That wasn't a hard choice at all; if I was awake I'd never be able to stay still.
“Just sedate me.”
Peggy grinned.
“I was kind of hoping you'd say that. You look like you could use the rest anyway. But the problem with that is if we do things that way, we need to depart this lab for the one next door and draw blood first, to ensure a clean sample. You aren't afraid of needles, are you?”
I was a bit.
“Not really.”
We went across the hall and she took my blood. She had steady hands, and a variety of needles, including one that looked quite capable of taking blood through power armor. Thankfully she didn't need that one; the standard needle worked fine. The blood looked normal enough; I mean it wasn't green or anything.
“Alright. Time for the fun stuff.”
Peggy held out a pill and a cup of water. I took it and was wheeled back into the first lab. No sooner had I lay down on the cushioned slab then I woke up on it, with arms and legs strapped down. I was about to panic when Peggy appeared in my vision, a strap in her hands.
“All done, just unstrapping you. Have to strap in the sleepers to make sure they don't shift; some of them get a bit restless.”
I was still in the hospital, and I recognized all the people. Peggy got my hands and feet while I got my waist (they really didn't want me to move an inch) and then it was back into the wheelchair, and on the way to some other exotic locale.
“So, how did it look?”
“Everything looked fine and healthy; no problems at all. I think you're good to go, just a few more tests to go, and then it's back upstairs.”
The next test was, oddly enough, a vision test. I looked in the machine and rattled off all the lines, only realizing after the fact that I couldn't do that before.
Peggy raised an eyebrow at me and moved a dial.
“Again,”
This time, I was able to read two lines more than halfway down.
“I can't read the rest.”
“Alright. Next step.”
The next step turned out to be flashing lights to the left or right just inside my vision; they even parked a few flashes over my nose, which seemed weird. I called them as I saw them, as I was supposed to.
“Last step, hold still please.”
A light came on and flashed my eyeballs; blue or green or some mix in between, it didn't hurt at all.
“Alright, all done. Your vision is 20/9, which puts you just under the best visual acuity ever recorded for a normal person. The interesting thing is your peripheral vision is either as good or almost as good as your normal line of sight vision, and your eyeball shape is perfect. Nothing bad at all there.”
She smiled, but I knew what she was telling me. My eyes were weird; my eyes were weird and I hadn't even noticed; while my vision had been good before, it hadn't been that good. And yet her word choice led me to believe she had seen better, either in person or from reading somewhere.
The next test was hearing. The normal headphones for the test wouldn't fit someone whose ears had migrated up and changed shape, so we ended up scrapping the test idea, though Penny and doctor Lagoda did look in my ears. Once they had stopped pawing at them they actually went into another room to talk, which of course did wonders for my confidence. It would be pretty ironic to get ears like this, then go deaf as a result.
I waited, kicking my feet idly in the air until they came back in.
“Well? Cancer of the ear?”
Peggy laughed.
“No, nothing like that. The shape of your inner ear has changed a little though, so we had to consult with a few other people. Everything checks out as normal for your new ear structure, and your hearing should be top notch. The MCO should be able to test it, once we clear you for that.”
Wait, what?
“What would the MCO want with me? I mean, I'm not a mutant.”
Just a guy who got shot by his jealous girlfriend, move along, nothing to see here.
“Well, they will want to test you, and they have more experience at it than we do. The Redding field office is actually good at this sort of thing, and might catch a… complication that we miss. So despite the horror stories you may have heard or read on the net, it's probably a good idea.”
She hit my knees with a rubber hammer while I thought it over, idly brushing my hair out of my face. I couldn't just tuck it behind an ear anymore after all… and it was weird. No one said anything, but seeing someone that had head hair growing where their ears should be had to be a little off-putting. Well, at least where the top half of my ear used to be; yet no one was saying anything.
Peggy noticed my fumbling and grinned.
“I foresee cut bangs or hair clips in your future. Alright, reflexes check out, let's see what's next.”
She consulted her chart, hanging on the back of my chair.
“Hm, next is… well, that's just stupid. We can skip that one. I think we're done here, and just in time, too.”
A stupid test at a hospital? “Just in time for what?”
“Early release and an early lunch. Your mom is waiting upstairs.”
I really liked Peggy. If I had to come back here I'd ask for her by name.
“Thanks.”
She started wheeling. “No problem kiddo. I can only imagine how badly you want out of here. I don't see any reason to keep you.”
Back upstairs Mom was waiting in the lone chair next to my empty bed, fidgeting. Iron Bunny was there too, fiddling with the remains of my breakfast tray. Surely she couldn't be that hungry. It was kind of surprising she'd be here anyway.
Mom shot out of the chair the moment she saw us.
“Well, how is she?”
And immediately she acts like I'm not even here.
“She's fine, Mrs. Del Bosque. No anomalies other than the obvious ones, and no signs of cancer or any malignancies, or even anything out of the ordinary, internally. No sign of instability at all, so far. She's a perfectly healthy girl.”
Yes, stable and perfectly healthy. Never mind that stable meant I was trapped this way barring a miracle.
“And the obvious ones?”
“The ears and the tail both have brought some minor structural changes with them, of course. We will have to wait and see for anything else. Perhaps the MCO testing will turn up something, but I doubt it. There are no signs of the stronger aspects of your mutation, Iron Bunny.”
Iron bunny shrugged.
“It takes awhile sometimes; it did in my case, at least until the regen kicked in.”
“No evidence of any of that, at least yet. The standard hypodermic worked, and the mark didn't fade.”
There was still a band-aid holding gauze over the crook of my elbow, and Iron Bunny glanced at it before crossing the distance in a stride, grabbing my arm, and peeling it off.
“What are you doing, exactly?”
Her hand was like a vise; I couldn't move at all, even though she was gentle about it. The drop of blood welling from the needle wound was clearly evident to all.
“Sorry.”
She covered it back up and let me go. Mom walked up and flicked her nose; just what was that about?
“Idiot.”
“I'm sorry, it was the easiest way to check! No regen though, which is odd. I wouldn't think you'd change so fast without it. Heck it took my ears months to fully grow, the first time. I had a really awkward growing up phase before I became the amazing package you see today.”
Pfft, ego much?
Oh God, and here I was, able to pass for her frumpy sister. Mom knelt beside me.
“Alright, so, ready to get out of here?”
I nodded and jumped up.
“I was ready hours ago if everything checked out. When can we leave?”
“Soon, we got a few things to do before we can go. Your Mom needs to fill out paperwork… and we need to go play spy.”
I'm sure that at some point Iron Bunny would talk sense. As it was, she wasn't doing her reputation any favors.
“Play spy?”
I waved to Mom as Penny pulled her out of the room.
“I'm just down the hall, honey!”
Yes Mom, thanks, Mom, I know Mom.
Iron Bunny beckoned me over to the window; she was to the side of it, peering through a slight gap her fingers made in the blinds. I walked over and she pulled me to her spot.
“Carefully look out there.”
I did… and under me and to the right, in front of entrance to the hospital, was a circus.
Of course, it wasn't a regular circus, but I now fully understood what a media circus was. There were vans parked along the street in at least a drove, if not droves, and loads of reporters and cameras. There was a food cart down there! Cops were actually patrolling behind yellow tape, keeping them back. A CNN van was parked next to a BBC one, and one I didn't recognize. But, the BBC?!? Did that mean they knew about me in Britain?!?
No, wait, that couldn't be for me. There had to be a sick senator or something, further up. I mean, even though that guy had snuck in my room last night, there was no way this could all be for me… could it? I turned back to Iron Bunny, hoping she'd tell me I was just being silly.
“Yep, that's all for you. The media got a hold of your story just like we told you yesterday, and pretty soon 'Teen mutated for cheating by devisor girlfriend' was plastered on all the major papers and news blogs.
“But I didn't! It was all a big misunderstanding!”
Iron Bunny ruffled my hair with a smile as she pulled me away from the window.
“I know, kiddo; I believe you. But newsies are like hungry animals smelling weakness. They don't really care about the details if it makes a good story, or they can twist it into one. And the story here is that you cheated. Anyone who knows the whole story knows you didn't cheat. But what's really funny is the Mutant Commission Office also stepped in, and has been telling the truth about the event, for once. There have even been talk shows on the case, at least, the details released by the cops.”
“Talk shows? How would that even work? It was just a week ago!”
“Never underestimate the ability of people to jump on a bandwagon, kiddo, or to try and ride that bandwagon as far as they can for money, power or notoriety. But enough about all that, what it means for us is we need to disguise you if you're getting out of here without all that outside turning on us. I have no problem with my adoring public, even the vultures, but something tells me you might. So let old aunty Ibby here show you how to go incognito.”
I eyed my ears in the mirror she placed me in front of. Experimentally I tried to focus on moving it, and it perked up obediently.
“There is no way to hide these. They're just too big unless I use a hood or something, and even then that'd be suspicious.”
Iron Bunny – or was it Ibby – nodded and produced a sun hat.
“That's why we're not going to, not exactly. It's officially summer, so one of these won't be out of place on a beach goer who happened to twist an ankle. That's you, by the way. So the idea is we put you in a sun dress, and tape your ears to the underside of the hat so that if they are seen, well, then you just have a weird looking hat. I've used this trick before, and it works, though I've never tried it with someone whose ears are black and purple. White goes better with the illusion, you see.”
There was absolutely no way that was going to work.
Iron bunny wrapped my ankle first, then handed me a bag with a dress in it. I looked at her. She looked back at me, blinking.
“Can I have some privacy, please?”
“What? Oh, sure! Sorry.”
She walked out of the bathroom, but didn't shut the door, so I did.
There was more than the white sun dress; there was also a pair of panties in the bag. Nothing to quite bring reality crashing in on you than to slip those on and realize you didn't need support anymore. The dress had purple accents; I slipped it on and opened the door. Iron bunny was inside again before it could swing open.
“Got it on? Good. Hm, let's see.”
She squished a hat on my head; it was white tightly woven wicker, obviously painted. I felt her spread my ears away from my head and felt the sticky pressure of double sided tape. It was strong tape; I could probably pull it off if I tried, but I wasn't sure my ears alone had the strength. I tried to keep them from moving anyway; having the hat wiggle as I walked by someone would be bad.
“Not quite, your ears sort of stand out. But I came prepared!”
Iron Bunny pulled out a strip of cloth, black laced with purple. It didn't quite match the fur on my ears but it was close. When she wove it around the hat so it would drape down a little, it did manage to camouflage my new ears, as long as no one looked too closely. The dress didn't do a thing to hide the tail on it's own, but Iron Bunny threw a shawl over my shoulders; it was black and almost as large as a blanket; it draped almost to my knees.
“Now, I'm going to try to help here, but this part is tricky. Do you have any kind of control over your tail? It looks like you should, but… well, just try to move it.”
I focused, and eventually found the trick to it.
“Good, you do. Now, try and hold it up against your body, please.”
I moved it up. It wasn't easy to hold there; it was like flexing a muscle or lifting a weight. I heard tape peeled, and the pressure went away.
“Sorry, it wasn't going to work unless I taped it. It'll probably hurt a lot, later.”
We made our way out of the room; Iron bunny led the way after checking the corridor by sticking her head out in a very suspicious manner. She waved me up, then sat me firmly back in the wheelchair I had been using.
Mom was talking to two doctors and Penny as we walked up. Even with my new ears in the position they were in, I could hear them.
“If there is any change in her condition, any change at all, no matter how minor, you should bring her back here immediately. Any change at all could lead to a destabilization of her condition.”
Peggy chimed in.
“That includes the emergence of any powers, too. So far we've noted nothing, but you should be watchful.”
The she turned and her eyes swept past me… and then snapped back again. Just like that she fought a smile and failed; my eyes were mostly obscured by the cloth, but I saw that much.
“Great, I look stupid.”
Mom heard me, turned around, and started. Her attempt to reassure me seemed a little flat.
“No, Tia. You look fine! You look very natural. The hat might be just a tiny bit much, though.”
“It's okay, as long as we match, no one will look twice. They will just blame eccentric old me.”
I looked over at Iron Bunny. Her hat was just as draped as mine was, her ears hidden but her eyes visible; she looked like she was modeling beach wear. She also had a shawl over her tail, but I could just make out the bump there. I wondered how much of mine was visible.
“Ready to find the back door?” Penny asked with a smile.
I nodded. It was still hard to believe the press was here for me, but I had no reason to doubt it. Even if they weren't it just made sense to stay out of their way.
The back entrance actually turned out to be the ambulance entrance; it was right next to the ER entrance, which was on the other side of the hospital from where I was. There were a few reporters watching, but they didn't even bat an eye when we walked out behind a few EMT's and I played the part of gingerly getting out of my chair and limping. I tried very much not to oversell it, but it seemed the blood was in the water already. One reporter, an older woman in a maroon pantsuit that did nothing nice for her at all, dropped a cigarette on the pavement and motioned to her cameraman while staring at Mom the entire time.
We might have made a slight miscalculation here; Mom didn't have a disguise, and it looked like at least this reporter knew her. Mom immediately turned and muttered out of the corner of her mouth while walking away from us.
“Just act like you don't know me. Take a left and go to the tan Ford at the end, Ibby knows which one.”
Iron Bunny… Ibby… led me away while the reporter tried her best to corner Mom. The rest of the pack that had been present followed suit hungrily but ignored us after a cursory glance.
At least at first. Then one of the reporters, a young handsome blond man with wild, wind blown hair, stopped, and looked back at us. I faced forward in a hurry, trying not to make eye contact, but it did no good.
“Hey, Iron Bunny! Any comments for us on the state of Luke Del Bosque?”
He wasn't looking at Ibby. He was looking at me; I knew it, I could feel his gaze trying to bore it's predatory way into my disguise.
Ibby cursed, muttered something about pin up posters, and grabbed my hand, and reeled me in like I was a fish. With an arm around my waist we lifted a few inches off the ground and started rocketing along. My gaze met Ibby's, taking in her wry grin.
“Normally, I'm all for meeting my fans and the press, but I really don't think you're up to this today.”
I shook my head, agreeing with her. We set down in front of an old rusty tan car that I knew my Mom didn't own; maybe it was Ibby's? She set me gently down in front of the passenger door and then hopped over the car to the driver's side.
I noticed the reporters had stopped chasing us as I got in and belted up, and many were running back to where they were hanging out.
“Did they give up?”
Ibby snorted.
“Heck no, kid. They went to go get their vans; this is a chase now. Don't worry, I'm an old hand at this; they won't catch us.”
Ibby had been nice so far, and it was probably unfair to her, but I didn't want to be alone with her.
“But what about Mom?”
“Your Mom will catch up, kiddo. She knows this song and dance almost as well as I do. Right now, the best thing we can do is just avoid all this until you're ready. Now, all strapped in? Good cause here we go!”
She didn't bother with her seat belt. The car turned over with a flemy roar, and she wasted no time, almost clipped the car parked in front of her. We were probably doing forty before we hit the end of the parking lot, and Ibby didn't even slow down to merge with traffic. I tried to force my hands to let go of the old armrests and was rewarded with color flooding back into my knuckles.
“So, where to kiddo? I don't know about you, but I'm famished. I could really go for some lunch right now.”
I looked behind us; the procession of speeding vans with radar dishes atop them was just starting; the police were probably going to pull us all over and throw us in jail.
“Yeah, a burger sounds nice right about now.”
A burger did not, after all, sound nice. It wasn't nice at all. I fell as another cramp hit, my stomach twisting itself into a pretzel despite the fact that the offending piece of meat was long gone, back the way it came. I dry heaved a few times as a car door slammed; Ibby stepped around the car and lifted me up.
“Hate you so much right now.”
Ibby didn't seem at all offended; if anything she was contrite, and making some sort of pouty scolded puppy face.
“Aw, come on, don't be that way. I couldn't say anything, I wasn't sure if you'd… inherited the condition or not. I didn't want to tell you not to do it, if you actually could.”
It seems that people with Iron Bunny's BIT… could not eat meat. Ibby herself told me that it was theorized to be from her digestion being too efficient, and then told me my guts are likely to shrink. She seemed to infer that was desirable, somehow. I thought she was full of crap or deluded on both counts.
But either way the fact is, Ibby let me order a burger, a nice burger with everything on it, and waited while I discovered (it took all of five bites) what a bad idea that was. Then rather than drive me back to the hospital for something that was clearly a change in my condition, she drove me to her house.
Her house was a large one, set far back in the hills amidst the redwoods, much like my home town was. Unlike my home town, the appearance of location was an illusion; the place wasn't more than fifteen minutes from Redding itself.
It was a large cabin, all weathered and stained logs on the outside for a rustic look, and with matching shed and garage. The scale was much larger than any pioneer had ever managed, however; It was two stories and sprawling, with a porch and even a porch swing.
Ibby was single, last I'd heard. This seemed like a lot of space for a single woman. On the plus side it was also pretty isolated; it had taken Ibby some doing to lose the reporters from the hospital in order to stop for my late lamented burger.
Ibby picked me up and brushed me off. “You okay to walk?”
“Yeah, the fit or whatever has passed for now.”
She grinned brightly at me; the sunlight could probably blind people reflecting off her teeth.
“Good, I know the best cure for that sort of thing. Let's go inside and get you fixed up.”
“Where's Mom?”
Ibby tossed me her phone as she fumbled with her keys without a word. The phone was unlocked, and a text was showing clearly.
“First house compromised; go to the 2nd, on my way – Strella.”
The number was my Mom's phone.
“We prepared for this.” Ibby said as she went inside, flinging her hat like a Frisbee with a sigh. It ended up on a coat-rack.
My own fling was less well aimed, and I was forced to go back and pick the hat up while massaging my ears. It felt weird when the fur on them was the wrong way. I also pulled the tape on my tail off with a wince. A quick check revealed no fur on any of the tape, which struck me as odd.
Ibby came over and looked too; she shrugged and took the tape from me, heading for what had to be the kitchen.
The living room was very posh and put the lie to the rustic cabin impression outside. There were still the slat wood walls, but they fit together too neatly be anything other than machined; there were electric lights designed to look like oil lamps, a television and one of the new holo-visions were both hanging on the wall, the sound system wasn't more than three years old. The large throw rug, spread across the wood floor was a thick, plush thing. There were trophy heads decorating the walls, and a 'stuffed' polar bear growling in one corner, but even from a distance, I could tell they were fake.
The only thing that looked real to the time period the house was built to mimic was the large stone fireplace… and there was a grill next to it. Not the wire mesh kind (though one of those was close) but an actual outdoor kind, sitting on the stone portion of the floor, in the house.
There were three remotes on the ancient teak coffee table. One had to be to the television, the other to the holo-vision, maybe the third was the sound system? It didn't look like a stock remote, though.
“That's the house remote.”
I looked up to find Ibby coming back, two cokes in one hand, and a bowl in the other. With a start, I realized my hand was already halfway to the remote in question, and my ears were twitching. Why were my ears twitching? I pulled my hand back quickly.
“What does a house remote control?”
“Oh, the lights, the central air, the door locks and alarm, the hot tub floor hatch, those sorts of things. Don't worry, if we end up staying here, I'll show you what each button does.”
Wait, stay here? We?
“Why would we stay here?”
“Well, um. Kiddo, the media are sort of camping out your house. So are a few other less than savory people. It's easier just to avoid them for now; since they aren't actually breaking the law the cops can't do much more than ask them to leave.”
This was a nice place, but I didn't want to stay here. I wanted to go home. I didn't belong here, with this bunny woman.
No matter how much my twitching ears told me otherwise.
I sat down on the couch; it was very soft. Ibby set one of her cokes in front of me on a coaster and sat on the other side. A flick of the television remote and it was on, showing CNN. She flicked that off in a hurry, but not before I noticed my name, my old name, in the ticker crawl on the bottom with a picture of the hospital I'd just recently checked out of over it. She slapped the bowl down; it was full of some green looking almost pear thing cut into slices… an avocado.
“The best thing to cure the meat heaves, I've found.”
I took one as the television turned to a movie on demand. Some drug-addled guy selling drugs for money, trying to avoid getting squashed like a bug. Some movie of the week style thing with so-so acting and a bad plot. The avocado wasn't bad; I had it finished halfway through the movie. Ibby snagged a few pieces herself, but I got most of it. I wasn't sorry about that either, not after what she pulled.
Mom arrived shortly after, a shopping bag in hand. She looked pretty frazzled as she kicked off her shoes and threw her coat; it landed on the rack too.
“What happened to you?”
I wasn't hiding my lingering anger as well as I thought I was, I guess.
“Your friend here,” they had to be friends, they mentioned something like that yesterday, “decided not to tell me that eating meat could potentially make me sick. So when we stopped to get lunch at the drive-through, I ordered a burger and fries.”
I hadn't even been able to look at the fries afterward. Mom winced and shifted her gaze. She was in on it too?
“Sorry. I didn't want to pile on the maybes; yesterday was bad enough. The plan was to test for these sorts of things. However the test was supposed to be later, and I was going to mention it first.”
I see.
“So any other things I haven't been told? Any other tests like that to be conducted?”
Any other horribly nasty surprises I need to worry about? Ibby looked like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar, but mom met my eyes.
“Yes Luke, there are. There are a couple more nasty conditions that could potentially develop. If you ask, I'll even tell you what they are. But you're alive and healthy, and you're my child, and I love you.”
Did I want to know? How badly did I want to know? Mom seemed to think just worrying over what could be was preferable to having grounded fears, which was pretty scary. But was it really better? Mom took my hand and we sat down.
“I think I want to know. If I don't, I'll just worry about it until I do.”
Ibby beat Mom to the punch.
“I'll do it, Strella. How much do you know about me, kiddo?”
Well, that wouldn't take long to answer. The hardest thing would be being polite about it.
“I know you were a hero for a couple decades. I know you have some history with Playboy, and know Hugh Hefner personally.”
Every boy knew about the old Playboy centerfolds; when Playboy went digital they even re-released them. They even included the articles and interviews, and in those, Ibby was supposed to be a bit of a free spirit, which was something I could easily believe.
“Right, well that's a start. I mutated in the 60's, and went from an awkward gangly teen to the vision of hawtness you see before you.”
She actually managed to stress the word like that, so that it came out 'hawtness'. Mom cleared her throat meaningfully.
“Right, getting serious. There are three problems with my BIT… weaknesses, if you will. The first is the meat thing, but that's actually just a nuisance since I don't seem to require the nutrition at all. The second is the ears and tail, they are just big enough to need special clothes for and be hard to hide…' She didn't sound merely put out about those, for some reason; I could relate. She took a deep breath and forged ahead.
“But the third thing is a kicker. I am, for whatever reason, a nymphomaniac. An actual one, not the fake ones that just claim it. As a result, I have issues sometimes with modesty, propriety, and impulse control. I even take medication for it, and have for years.”
She just looked at me, as it sank in.
“Oh. Oh, no. No no no. You're trying to say….”
She grinned as Mom hugged me. “I'm not saying anything. The doctors couldn't find any trace of my condition in you, and in any case, the medication works wonders. But it does explain why your ex decided to blast you with my BIT over others, sort of.”
“Ibby Iverson!”
Ibby weathered Mom's yell with remarkable aplomb. “Sorry Strella, but I'm not the only one thinking that. Even the cops are running with that theory.”
I did not want to become at all like Ibby; she was a nice flake, I think, but she was still a flake. I most especially did not want any of what she was saying. I was raised catholic and hadn't lapsed yet. Jamie and I hadn't even done more than kiss, we had been waiting for marriage... and Ibby didn't strike me as the waiting type.
“Did...did Jamie say why, at all?” I hated my stumbling tongue.
Mom sat down beside me, forcing me to scoot over. “No Luke… she hasn't said much of anything, really. She's… well, Jamie isn't well.”
That chilled to the bone; 'not well' was my mother's way of saying insane.
I couldn't help myself; I worried about her, after all that had happened, all that she'd done. What was wrong with me?
“Can we just finish the movie?”
Ibby tapped me on an ear. “Nope. Finished while you were yakking, so now we have to watch a whole new one. I'll go get another avocado.”
“Bring me something to drink back, would you?” mom asked her.
“Sure!” Ibby disappeared into the kitchen.
A good time to ask; I was sure that if I could hear Ibby puttering around (and I could) she could hear us, but my questions were polite and innocent enough.
“So, you and Iron Bunny, huh? I didn't know she was a client of yours.”
Mom grinned. “You don't know many of my clients. Some of whom are even villains and politicians. I happen to manage many different people with issues, and she was one. I've done right by her and a few friends of hers, and now I'm calling in favors.”
“Favors?” I didn't like the sound of that.
“No, not like that, Luke! Ibby wanted to help. Heck, she… well, I think she half views this as her fault. The favors come from a different source; like this cabin. It's not ours, and it's not Ibby's, which makes it much harder to trace back to us and therefore safe enough from the press to stay at.”
Ibby was waiting in the hall. I knew she was, and she knew I knew, but she was giving us a little space. I debated about saying it, but couldn't see why I shouldn't just speak the truth.
“That's really stupid. Ibby can't be held at fault for what someone does with her DNA or whatever unless she handed it to them, and the think-tank she handed it off to was supposed to be about helping people. No one should hold her responsible; I don't.”
The real one at fault was Jamie, with a rather large side helping of manipulative bitch. Ibby had been taking a risk, trying to help people.
“Snacks are here!” Ibby announced as she entered the room, cokes in one hand, avocado bowl in the other.
“Just in time for the crappy show to start.” I grabbed a piece from the bowl as she set it down; if she didn't want to make a big deal out of what I said or hearing it, I was fine with that. Just hoped she'd grant me the same courtesy later; my hearing probably extended for miles now.
******
“So your first day out, you just found a place to relax and watch movies? I doubt I could be so… laid back.” The business man was on his second drink by now, which was all the airline was going to alot him.
It made him a little louder than I'd have liked, and our third seatmate was paying more attention; I was pretty sure he was just pretending to watch the football game that was on his phone. I was pretty sure he wasn't hearing me, though; my whisper couldn't be carrying that far.
“Well - I didn't have much choice, actually. What was I going to do? I was out of the hospital, but still recovering. I was very tired. In fact, I fell asleep on the couch, and the two adults moving around didn't even wake me. In fact… no, I'll get to it, you'll just have to be patient.”
******
I woke suddenly, experiencing a moment of disorientation that almost saw me hit the floor. Right, I was on a comfy couch, and covered in warm blankets, and it was now very dark.
Perfect.
I stretched as best I could to cover my look around. As best as I could tell, no one else was awake. I couldn't see much, but true to form, with my clips dialed down, I could hear everything. Even the soft even breathing of two adults in separate bedrooms upstairs. Heck, I was pretty sure I was hearing a mouse or some other small creature in the walls, somewhere near the kitchen.
Well, it was almost perfect. I hadn't been told what the security code was, and if I tried to open a door or window I'd set it off, and I really had places I needed to be.
Luckily enough, I could also hear what sounded like a breeze rattling a loose window pane coming from upstairs… near one of the adults. Moving slowly and carefully enough that I barely made any noise at all to my ears, I grabbed Mom's car keys from the foyer table and held onto them.
I was still in the stupid dress disguise, but I wasn't going to worry about that now. I wasn't cold and trying to change clothes was a risk. I did grab the shoes, though; they fit and I didn't think my feet were calloused anymore. I tied them together and wrapped them around my neck.
The room turned out to be Iron Bunny's, and the door was open. So was the window across from the door, and there was indeed a breeze rattling a loose window pane in it. I tiptoed to it over the thick carpet, keeping my eyes averted so as not to tempt fate.
I didn't even need to move the window; I could fit right out of it, and there was an unfurled canvas awning for a patio under it. With the window already open the alarm was inert here, right? At least that's how it worked back home.
Sticking my leg outside didn't cause anything to go off. I was able to avoid any awkwardness because my feet touched the awning before I needed to use my hands to hang out the window. A good thing because I doubted I could hold on with one hand anymore.
The awning was strong enough to hold my weight with no signs of tearing, something I couldn't really test but was glad for. I shimmied down it and realized I still had a good six or seven feet of empty space under it. No help for it, I put the key fob in my teeth and grabbed the edge, easing off.
Seems I had been right not to trust my new body; I only managed to hang on for a few seconds before I fell, landing on my feet. My feet made a muted slap on the concrete, and it stung fiercely for a moment. I waited, but it seemed the Iron Bunny hadn't heard it, so I put the shoes on and eased around to the front.
Chances were Iron Bunny at least would hear Mom's car start; would she wake up? I couldn't exactly walk the distance. I could try putting it in neutral and pushing, but if I didn't have enough strength to hold myself from a window, I doubted I could push Mom's car; it was a full sedan. I was an idiot; I really should have thought things through before diving out an open window; now I was stuck.
But I had to know. I had to go home.
I got in the car and started it up, then waited. There was no response, either from inside the cabin or out. Neither Mom nor Iron Bunny came out yelling and waving their arms, or anything like that – so I put the car in gear and drove.
I was super careful. If I was stopped, the cops would arrest me for only driving on a permit, or for stealing the car if I couldn't prove who I was. And even at night, there was enough light around to get a good look at my ears; I shouldn't have left that silly hat behind. At least the highway out was dark. Now that I knew where the cabin was, I was sure I could navigate back to it; it was only twenty minutes from home, using the back roads.
Iron Bunny flew in front of me just before I was about to turn onto my street; I almost wrecked the car. Heart jack-hammering, I pulled over and parked.
She didn't look angry, just concerned and maybe a bit amused. She also didn't have Mom with her.
“So, where exactly do you think you're going, Luke?” As if she didn't know.
“Home, of course. I wanted something other than this stupid dress to wear.” And I wanted to see it. My home, my block, my street.
“I could have loaned you something.” There was definitely amusement there.
“I don't want 'something'; I want my own clothes.” My own things. If I couldn't have my house, I'd settle for that much – but I wouldn't settle for less.
“Hm… follow me, quietly.” Ibby tiptoed across the street like a big kid; I rolled my eyes and followed, as silent as she was despite walking normally. She took cover behind a large tree and I followed; we didn't blend in at all, her with her coloration and me with my dress, but it seemed we didn't need to.
The entire street was a circus.
There were more vans and other vehicles parked on the street than there had been on station at the hospital. There was almost no room for a car to pass on the two lane road, and there was no way at all for two cars to pass each other. The reporters and cameramen and whoever else? It looked like a convention had set up shop, right there on the street. There were lights set up everywhere.
There were even tents on certain lawns, some lit with people moving in them. It was insane.
“Now do you see why we didn't take you home, kiddo?” Ibby whispered, looking not at the circus, but at me.
I nodded. It was one thing to hear about it, but another thing entirely to see it. I still wasn't about to leave empty handed though; I was going to get punished for doing this anyway, so I was going to get what I came for.
Ibby read it in me. “Right, of course you're going to be stubborn. Alright, look. I'll go ahead and get the stuff you want; the press won't bother me. You stay here - no wait, second thought, if I come back to the car they may follow. You go find an out of the way spot to wait, and stay out of trouble, alright?”
She moved off and I had to stop her. I handed her the car keys. “I'll wait at the park on the other side of town; it's on this street, can't miss it. If the reporters are going to follow you to the car, they will either follow it or wait for me to come back, so try and keep that in mind.”
She gave me a look. “Good point. Alright then. Give me a little bit.”
She took off, floating above the mess, and I moved before someone got the idea to track her path back to her take-off point.
It was late enough that no one was out, though I did have to dodge a Redding patrol car. I was friends with all our police, but I really didn't want to get stopped; if I did, Mom would know what I'd done come morning. I wasn't sure I could convince Ibby to cover for me, but I was sure I stood a better chance with her than anyone else Mom knew.
It only took two blocks to realize I had made a serious mistake in my choice of locations; the park was a favorite haunt, nothing wrong there… but Jamie's house was down this street too. I stopped across from it; it looked normal. There was no sign of the broken door, no police tape… the only sign I could see was a patch of yard burned totally clear of grass; even in the dim light the soil looked coated with ash. The mark extended to the driveway concrete, and it looked like some steps had been made to wash it off. The car was still parked where it had been, but the dent I was pretty sure I'd put in it was gone.
I was across the street and staring at the spot before I realized it. It seemed like such a small thing; I felt there should be more of a sign. I bent over and felt it; there was grass seed mixed in with the wet ash.
I took another step and some automatic lights snapped on; right, those were new, and it was time to go.
I couldn't run more than a block before shuddering to a gasping messy halt. My body was absolute crap; my stamina was just gone. The only good news was aside from a dog about three streets away, there was no other sounds of life.
Still, the dog had stopped barking before I got my breathing and rubbery muscles back under me.
The park was dark and empty; there were only two large lights on either side of it, and one of those had a broken bulb. It was the go to place for any midnight rendezvous that wasn't lover oriented (since it was easy for cops to keep an eye on) but it too was empty right now. I sat on a swing near the tree line and waited, wondering why the press hadn't set up their tents here, on public property.
I wondered how much my neighbors were getting paid to have people camp on their lawns.
I wondered what I was supposed to do now.
The only car that came down the street was Mom's, which was probably for the best. I'd picked my spot to be able to hide quickly, then just zoned out. I rushed down there and got in; the entire back seat was filled with trash bags full of stuff.
“Really, Iron Bunny?”
She shrugged as she pulled off again. “I wasn't sure what you'd want, and I can always put anything back later.”
I had to ask. “Did you have any problems?”
She grinned back at me, taking her eyes off the road in a way I wasn't really comfortable with. “My dear Lucretia, I can fly. There is no trouble newsies can offer me that I can't simply ignore. I had the door open and shut and locked again before any of them had taken two steps, and well, a window works really well to leave a place when you don't want to be seen. Something you know already, eh?”
I felt my face heat up. “I didn't know the alarm codes, and didn't want to set it off! Hey, speaking of which, our house alarms should have been on too; how did you avoid setting them off?”
“Oh, I know the codes.”
What. “But you've never been to our house before. I've literally never seen you in Redding before.”
Not that I usually saw Mom's clients in any capacity; she was a firm believer in leaving work at work.
“Just got them last week… your Mom and I are good friends, and I wanted to be able to keep an eye on her. Besides, I owe you, kid. At least some of this is my fault.”
No, it wasn't. But I knew somehow that she wouldn't just accept that; maybe it was that she hadn't earlier. So I needed to try another way, and I was curious anyway.
“Tell me about it. How did Jamie get your sample, anyway?”
She glanced at me and I motioned her eyes back to the road. “Well, about a year ago I was contacted by Marsupial Medical – no, I'm not making that up, that's what they're called... laugh away – they are a company based in Australia of course, and they specialize in taking, collating, and storing samples. They wanted to gather as many samples as they could of mutants with BIT's, both genetic and otherwise, and cross reference them for any similarities; sort of like a mutant genome experiment.
The idea was supposed to be to pin down faulty or dangerous genetic markers among mutants both with BIT's and without among the populace, and eventually work to correct them with new types of gene therapy. Since I have some conditions I'd like to see corrected, I said sure, against my better judgment. I've been down this road before, you see.”
Ibby was understating here, I was sure. She was now focused on the road, but I could see the pain in her profile.
“So, fast forward, and Marsupial Medical (or double M was I call them) is outsourcing the research to enterprising and bright young people to save costs, having researchers running internet think tanks on ways to better profile and use the data. That's where Jamie comes in; she was hired into one with the understanding that she could build a BIT scanning device. At least that's what double M told me when I asked.”
“Okay, stop there.”
She glanced at me again, curiosity dulling the anguish briefly.
“You yourself just said, the limit of your involvement was to hand over samples of your DNA. Something you did to an established company, and probably under contract, right?”
She nodded, looking back at the road in time to avoid a Raccoon, for which I was grateful.
“Then it wasn't your fault. I was in the room when Jamie signed her own contract, stating she wouldn't do anything stupid with the samples she received. I was there for most of those discussions; your name didn't even come up. The company might be responsible for all the internet shenanigans to cut costs, but even they couldn't know that Jamie would… do what she did.”
The only ones responsible for this, were Jamie, Amy Milsner… and me. I could have stopped this all from happening if I hadn't been so stupid.
Her return look was a little too long for my riding comfort, given that she was driving at night and had already avoided one animal.
“You know kid, you're alright."
What could I possibly say to that?
She wasn't done, though. “I think I'll adopt you.”
What.
“What?!? You do realize I have a Mom already, right?”
She grinned. “Yeah, but I'm cooler than she is.”
I gave her my best indignant sniff. “You aren't even close.”
She mock grabbed her chest. “Ack! You wound me!”
She was such a nerd. A nice silence passed and soon enough we turned onto the service road to the cabin.
“So… you know how to drive, it seems. At least, when I was following you, you didn't make any mistakes. You were very methodical, very… cautious, I guess.”
“Well, hitting something with Mom's car would be a disaster. Which is probably why you should watch the road a bit more.”
“Heh. Maybe, though I think Strella would forgive me, at least unless you got hurt. That raises a question, though; why sneak out at all? You're going to catch hell for it.”
I thought about it as she pulled up and killed the engine and lights. I wasn't sure I knew myself, not all of it. How could I explain?
“I just… had to. I needed clothes, at least, needed something of me, and I had to see.”
I had to see my home again, under siege by strangers or not. I had to see her home again, where it happened. I had to see my home town to take it in. Ibby nodded understanding, even though I didn't say the last part out loud; how could I? It sounded dumb enough in my head.
Ibby got out. “When we get in, let me do the talking.”
I followed her. The reason Ibby wanted to talk was easily apparent, even if I didn't hear any movement past the door. Once Ibby input the security code and opened the door, Mom was there, standing in the foyer with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Which meant she had to have been holding that position or one like it for awhile now.
“So, where have you two been?”
I opened my mouth but Ibby started in, loudly.
“Tia here couldn't sleep, so we went to get her some clothes and other stuff from your house. The circus is still in town, so I went in while she waited for me; had to go out your bedroom window before the alarm reset, so it's not locked, but well, the alarm is set and it's on the second floor, so it should be fine. Not like anyone can break in with an entire army of reporters staking out the house, at least not without drawing some attention.”
Iron Bunny was pretty smart. Nothing she'd said was specifically a lie. I'd set off to get some things, she'd heard and followed me, so it was 'we'. She went into the house, and I did wait, but not in the car as her words seemed to imply, and that last bit I'd bet was pure distraction, to take Mom's mind off me sneaking out.
Mom was smart too, however. “Why did you take my car?”
“It's both safer than my loaner and in better condition. I didn't want to break down with a bunch of stuff on my way back. Plus, the kiddo wanted to drive and I didn't see the harm; good night time practice with no traffic. I drove on the way back.” Ibby was very good.
Mom turned to me. “This true, Tia?”
I still wasn't a fan of that nickname. “Yes, Mom.”
Mom still didn't look happy but moved to let us in. She pinned Ibby with her death stare as she passed, though; Ibby just shrugged it off. I breathed a sigh as I headed to the kitchen. Iron Bunny had covered for me, and now all fallout for my little stunt was on her shoulders. I had been willing to accept the consequences of being caught, but I couldn't say I wasn't relieved.
I did wonder why she'd done it, though.
Mom followed me into the kitchen; I turned on the prominent teakettle and she helped me find the mugs and tea.
“So what did you get?” Mom just seemed like she was curious, but this could be a fishing attempt.
“Just clothes, mainly. This dress is a little drafty.” The underwear could stay; I had no doubt it'd be less annoying than my old boxers.
“Ah. We had some other sets for you here...”
I had to interrupt her. “Yeah, but I wanted my own clothes.” I'm sorry Mom, I just couldn't sit here and listen to the clock tick. Please try to understand.
Ibby Joined us. “Nothing wrong with comfy old clothes to slum around in. You'll probably have to stay here a little while at the very least.”
“Right, and on that note, I'm going to go grab some. The alarm still off?”
“Well, for now, pretty much.” Her answer baffled me.
What the heck did that mean? Ibby waved me off. “It's fine, you won't set it off, go, go!”
I went. I grabbed the first bag I could see a hoodie in and locked the door; I could bring in the rest in the morning. When I shut the door the kettle whistled; seemed a little fast to me.
I hadn't asked before, but if we were staying here, I probably had a room. “So what room should I be putting this stuff in?”
“Third one on the right!” Mom called back. I couldn't help but grin; that was the room next to the one she'd been sleeping in. She wanted me close.
I didn't mind… well, not that much. The cabin had over a dozen bedrooms, something I noted earlier but dismissed. It seemed like a lot of space.
The room I ended up dumping my bag in was decorated in tans and browns, with dark green furniture to match the walls and the forest outside the walls. It was very well done, and not at all bright like Iron Bunny's room had been; it blended in.
A tee shirt, a hoodie, and some sweatpants later, and I did too.
I came down to find my tea on the living room coffee table, the two adults already seated.
“You two don't need to stay up on my account.” Sure I was a bundle of nerves and awake, but they needed more sleep.
Mom answered me, with teeth. “Oh, we aren't. I was just going to have words with Ibby here about her sneaking out with you without telling me. But that can wait, I suppose. How do you feel?
I took stock. It felt better to have clothes surrounding me, and I smelled me on them, faintly. “Okay. Better now.”
Though I was beginning to feel tired again, after only being up around two hours.
Ibby shrugged and turned on the television again. It was still on the same sappy channel. Mom gave her a pointed glance and she turned it to some crime drama while I went exploring a bit. Turned out the cabin had a den, and that den had a library.
“Ibby, do you mind if I read in the den?”
I could see the face she pulled as she looked back, and I was pretty sure it was feigned just to annoy Mom.
“Nah, knock yourself out with all the dusty crappy books. Yell if you see a romance, though!”
******
“So,' my seatmate grinned. “what book did you decide to read?”
I grinned back. “Watership down.”
He snorted quiet laughter. “How very fitting.”
“What can I say? The cover just leapt out at me.”
The jock was now making no pretense of anything other than listening. At least he wasn't using his phone to record us. I lowered my voice just to see him strain; I was kind of bad like that, sometimes.
“The book did help illustrate a problem, one of the worst problems involved with the attack in fact.”
“Oh?”
“I'll get to it later, in due time. First things first.”
He smiled gently and I couldn't help returning it. “Alright, fair enough. What's next then?”
“Powers testing.”
******
I had an appointment, bright and early. No one saw fit to tell me that last night of course, but it seemed the MCO could not wait to test me – literally. And of course Mom was on board with that, because there was still the chance, no matter how slight (so she told me) that something was wrong.
So at nine, bright and early, freshly showered and dressed in my old clothes, I was blinking the sun out of my eyes and trying to stifle a yawn as Mom drove us to my doom.
My doom had plenty of reporters in it, it seemed. I wondered how they knew about my appointment. It was a pretty rush job, after all, made for me almost the minute I woke up; it would have been the same day, but the expert assigned to Redding and its environs was elsewhere.
I don't know, maybe they hacked the MCO computers or something – no matter how stupid that sounded. After the one reporter in the hospital, I wouldn't put it past them. I was forced to dial my clips down, as the reporters started yelling questions even before Mom stopped the car (right outside the front door at the beckoning direction of two police officer who looked familiar).
Ibby got out well before I did, waving jovially to the crowd while managing to shield me from them. “Come on, give us some space here! Plenty of me to go around, no need to crowd. Come on, we can't understand you when you all yell at once!”
For my part, I put my hood up over my head and tried to keep her between me and all the microphones. I was pretty sure I'd say something stupid if I didn't. Mom joined us right as the reporters started to get wise and take turns; now we couldn't pretend we couldn't understand them. Well, we could, but it'd be pretty obvious.
“Lucretia, is the transformation permanent?”
“Lucretia, any truth to the rumors that you are a Casanova?”
“Lucretia, how do you feel?”
“Lucretia, can you tell us what happened on the 19th in your own words?”
And so on. I didn't answer any of them, I just kept walking, almost on top of Ibby. Mom brought up the rear, and she wasn't a large woman, but no one tried to get past her glare. The reporters were remarkably well informed; how had they gotten my new name so quickly?
Also, just what sort of stupid question was 'how do you feel'? I actually stopped a moment when that on registered, and Mom kept me going. The police stopped the reporters at the door. This close the feeling that I'd seen them before was even stronger. They actually locked the doors to keep the reporters out and turned to us with blank faces.
It was when I saw the specialist that I remembered. The two were officers Trask and Stahl, and the specialist was agent Berkowitz. I had indeed met all three, the last time I was here. My ears actually stiffened in rage.
“You!”
“Hello again, miss Del Bosque.” His urbane voice made me twitch; how dare he!
“You have some nerve, coming here for this.” I was proud of how even I sounded, how cool. I wanted to deck him, but there was barely any rage in there at all. Now if I could just get my left ear to stop twitching.
“I wasn't scheduled to be here for this testing; I asked for it.” He walked up to me, an old man in an antiquated suit, looking far older than last time I saw him. He met my eyes the entire time, stopped just out of reach - and bowed deeply.
“I wanted to come here first and foremost to apologize. I was wrong, I made a mistake, and you paid the price. For that, I am deeply and truly sorry. If I can at any time make amends within the law, I will do so to the best of my ability.” He didn't straighten, just held out his card.
I sagged back in surprise, my rage swirling the drain to somewhere, and took the card on reflex. He straightened up as Mom stepped forward.
“Don't think this absolves you, agent Berkowitz. I intend to see this case investigated and all guilty parties punished to the full extent of the law.”
He nodded to her. “I wouldn't have it any other way, Ma'am. An investigation into all my past cases, including this one, is already underway by both the police and the MCO; I will abide by any decisions made by either.”
I had to ask. “And how likely is that to happen?”
He answered with no deflection at all: “Not likely; I followed proper procedure in testing miss Howe. The psychological screening failed to turn up anything, and the current theory is certain... extenuating circumstances muddied the readings.”
I wanted to ask what circumstances, but something told me I really didn't want to know. It no longer mattered anyway.
Ibby had a good question, though, and she asked it as we all moved to the back, past the lone secretary in the office (who happened to be staring at me and Ibby as if we were Martians or something). “Won't you being here be seen as a conflict of interest? You tested Jamie, you're now here to test Tia….”
Berkowitz nodded. “It probably will be, yes. But I felt it best that I be the one to test Tia. May I call you Tia?”
I nodded. Might as well, Mom and Ibby both had outvoted me on nickname choice, (something I felt was a bit unfair considering I'd already been outvoted on my name) and getting used to it was probably for the best. I'd already found out that if I didn't answer to Tia Mom would give me this look that made my heart flip.
Agent Berkowitz continued. “Regardless of current events, I am a senior field agent, Iron Bunny. I won't claim to be good at my job, not anymore, but I will claim to be selfish. I wanted to know if young Tia was alright, and I wanted to be the one to test her. So I called in a favor.”
Ibby just shook her head. It made me wonder what she was thinking; hopefully, I could ask later.
The room agent Berkowitz led us to was a somewhat large gym. Another person was waiting for us, this one in a lab coat.
“Doctor Paige couldn't make it today, so everyone, meet Doctor Henry.”
Doctor Henry was not your classic scatterbrain. He was tall, had skin the color of dark mocha, and short curly black hair His eyes showed he was anything but distracted, focusing on each of us in turn with intensity that I swore I could feel, at least for a moment.
“Good morning, and pleased to meet you all; I'm doctor Jacob Henry. Your reputation precedes you, Iron Bunny.”
He held out his hand to shake, and she took it before asking blandly: “Which one?”
Oh dear God, she did not just say that. Dr. Henry just answered her. “The heroic one, of course.”
Dr. Henry then turned to me so fast I almost jumped, sticking his hand into my personal space, but his smile was large and warm. “Nice to meet you, miss Del Bosque.”
Well, at least he didn't say my reputation preceded me. Then he moved on to Mom.
“Mrs. Del Bosque, your reputation also precedes you. I am a fan.”
Mom looked a bit lost. “A fan of what?”
His answer made both mom and I pause. “A fan of the way you shred the modern self-styled newshound, of course. It's such a joy to watch.”
I wondered what the media had done to him; his hatred seemed a bit more personal than most.
I didn't see much here but the gym, a glass-walled room in the corner with some desks in it, and a machine in the corner, that looked like a large computer scanner placed on its side. It looked old. I looked at agent Berkowitz, and he looked back blandly; unless that machine scanned brains or something, I could see how they missed Jamie's mental thing. Or anyone else's issues, including mine.
Agent Berkowitz correctly read my expression: “Budget cuts. Large cities have better facilities, but we have enough here, or at least enough to determine if more testing is needed.”
I didn't really like the sound of that. At least I was dressed in decent workout clothes; loose and comfortable.
“Alright, how about we get started? I'd like to get you out of here as quickly as possible, Tia. The bathrooms are behind you to the right. We need you to grab one of the bodysuits in the box by the door, change into it, and join us when you're done.
“I'll help!” Ibby was quick to offer, even raising her hand like this was school. Mom just rolled her eyes.
The bathroom was like any public bathroom everywhere, if a bit more clean. Ibby wasted no time looking around curiously while I checked the cardboard box next to the door. It was filled with various sizes of black bodysuit, with some sort of sensor network built into it. There was some dust on the top suits.
“Here, let me help.”
Ibby pawed her way through the box while I looked on, bemused. She finally stopped with one pulled from the bottom that looked way too small for me.
“So, what were you looking for? Seen one bathroom, seen them all.”
She frowned, held the suit up, and threw it back in the box haphazardly. “Cameras. No little sister of mine is going to undress in a random bathroom in an MCO office unless I'm sure there are no cameras.”
She held up a suit that looked even smaller; then she pulled some scissors out of her purse. Why did she have to mention cameras?
She caught me looking around. “Relax, it's just us girls. Or if it isn't, whoever placed the cameras is better at that than I am at spotting 'em.”
Well, that was comforting. Ibby clapped me gently on the back. “Relax, relax. My purse didn't go off, so there's nothing here. You didn't hear an oven timer noise, did you?”
I shook my head; what did that have to do with anything? Ibby grinned. “Good, neither did I. The place is bug free. Get dressed already, I need to make some alterations to the suit.”
“Is that, you know, accepted?” I started undressing, putting my clothes on the sink; I would never trust a bathroom floor.
She nodded. “In cases like ours? Sure. The suits are cheap, mass produced, and if you want you can take them home. But if you don't, they get used once, thrown out, and recycled. It's just easier that way.”
I dressed and she looked at me critically, then widened one ear hole. The whole thing felt tight and while it didn't restrict my movement, I didn't like it. A glance at the mirrors above the sink showed I looked ridiculous.
No one laughed as I stepped outside in the suit, adjusting the stupid cowl; Agent Berkowitz did come forward with a belt for it, though. The belt had wires sticking out of it, to match the wires sticking out of the suit. I put it on, matched them up and plugged them together and was rewarded with a slight hum. Doctor Henry gave me a thumbs up as Agent Berkowitz moved me over to a weight machine. Well, at least it looked like one.
“Just sit down here, lock your feet against the rests here, grab the handles, and pull. The test is done when the machine manages to start pulling back.”
He demonstrated what he meant. Ibby took one look and had concerns.
“There is no way that machine is rated for bricks.”
Agent Berkowitz nodded. “It isn't, but the data can still be used to extrapolate ratings. If they start slow, by the time a brick moves the machine, we usually have a solid reading. We also have a very solid understanding of just what it takes to break the machine – but given that Tia doesn't have any known brick strength after a variety of tests, I'm willing to take the chance before we use the stronger and more expensive options.”
It wasn't long before the machine started pulling me towards it, no matter how hard I tried to hold on. Dr. Henry just hummed to himself and noted the number while I glared at the thing.
“Next, the treadmill.”
I only lasted five minutes on the treadmill, and the numbers were blacked out so I didn't see how fast I was going. Again Dr. Henry just scribbled the number down. I needed to take a breather for several minutes after the running.
And that was how it went; I felt like I was back in Gym. They had me do jumping jacks, and the rope climb, and even dodgeball. And each test was a failure, serving only to show that I was now completely out of shape and would need to start from scratch.
They also tested to see if I was a devisor by trying to make me fix some sort of clock. I was never so glad to fail a test; I don't know how I would have handled being one. I also wasn't psychic (they had me try to guess cards, of all things) couldn't fly (they dropped the floor our from under me, a trapdoor, and I fell a good five feet – thankfully onto mats).
The regeneration test sucked, though; the small cut wasn't too bad, but it hurt more than it should. At least my blood clotted like it was supposed to.
Agent Berkowitz tested my hearing and vision again and added my sense of smell, touch, and taste. All my senses were enhanced a bit, with the weakest being taste. I could still taste some weird things; he tested it by placing small strips containing weird stuff on my tongue. He said most people couldn't taste anything, but I got aspirin and bitter almonds and soap out of the experience. At least I couldn't taste sweat in the air, or roadkill or anything. It was bad enough being able to smell it from farther away.
By the time we all assembled for the verdict, I was worn out. Now I understood what happened to Jamie, all those months ago; at least Ibby didn't mind me leaning on her. I think she barely noticed, and that only because she wrapped an arm around me when I started to list like a sinking ship.
Dr. Henry started off, staring at the clipboard he held as if he didn't know what it said. “Alright. I think we can safely say, with the testing done both here and at the hospital, that we have a good picture of your ratings Tia, and what may be going on with you. First, the good news: As far as it is possible for modern medical science to tell, you are stable, and continue to mutate at a slow rate. That is to say that you appear to be in no danger at all from rejection and complications. This is not exact; problems could still develop down the road, but I feel it's safe to say that currently, you are in no danger. That said, I'd like you to get tested regularly. Not a full powers test, but just a genetic scan; something that can be done with a blood test.”
He took in Both my and Ibby's glares and coughed.
“They will, of course, be destroyed after testing to ensure they won't fall into the wrong hands.”
I could live with that. “Alright, what's the bad news?”
“The bad news is the only power we could confirm is your Body image Template,” which confirms your exemplar status and rating of one. Actually, it's slightly less than a full one at the moment.”
Ibby blanched. Mom muttered something that sounded like it might have been a curse.
“Well, what does that mean?” How was that bad? Wasn't a lower number better? Didn't that mean I was more human than someone who had a higher rating, stupid ears aside?
“It means that you're actually weaker than the average human. And because your exemplar rating is determined by your Body Image Template, your strength, stamina, and reflexes are unlikely to get better.”
What? No… nonono. I'd never get better? I'd be this weak forever?
Ibby blew on one of my ears. “Hey, don't even worry about it. My own mutation started out slow, then snowballed once the regen kicked in. It took about six months for that to happen, and it could be the same for you.”
She was right. I couldn't think like that, couldn't let this beat me. I'd just have to work at it, and get better again. I'd never get better if I just gave up.
“Right, I refuse to let this beat me… I'll just work out again.”
Ibby palmed her face in response, and mom muttered something again.
“Not entirely what I meant kiddo – A body Image template is like a blueprint, and it forces you to match it. So if your BIT has you as a one, then you'll always be weaker, no matter how hard you work, cause your body will just force itself back to the blueprint.”
I could read on the paperwork Dr. Henry had, that an exemplar rating of two was the human norm. Well, that wasn't too far past one, was it?
“Well, I don't care what you meant, Iron Bunny… I refuse the entire idea. I'll just work at it and force my body to get better.” After all, it was mine, screwed up as it was – it had to listen to me.
Agent Berkowitz interrupted Ibby before she could say whatever it was she was going to say next.
“That's a fine attitude to have.”
Ibby shut her mouth with an audible clack as Mom grabbed my other side. Mom was more interested in hugging, however, and I didn't mind.
Agent Berkowitz held out a card, and Mom intercepted it. “If ever you need any help adjusting, or need to talk, about anything at all, please call me at that number. But for now, I'm afraid, I need to go; I have another appointment.”
He started to walk out, but he did say ask about anything, and I had a pretty good question.
“Agent Berkowitz, did you make the same offer to Jamie?”
He stopped and turned, looking me in the eyes again. “Yes, I did, and using much the same language.”
So Jamie had heard the same offer… and either forgotten about it or decided she didn't need the help. I wouldn't make the same mistake, even though I was going to have quite the collection of cards soon. Who used cards anyway, and hadn't he handed one out to us before?
I was tired. More tired than I should be as I sat down at one of the desks on the other side of the glass.
“Alright, just one thing left, and that's the psychological evaluation.” Dr. Henry forced out with a plastic smile. “Just answer the questions as truthfully as you can, there are no right or wrong answers.”
It was a written test. An actual written test to determine if you were crazy. 'If you were a bug, which bug would you be, and why?' was the first question.
What the fuck.
“Did Jamie take this same test?” Dr. Henry tensed at my question, but answered.
“That one or one very like it, administered by Agent Berkowitz. It was felt that he should not be here to administer the psychological portion of the exam for obvious reasons.”
“Is this all of the test?”
“All that you need to concern yourself with, yes.” Was Dr. Henry's expected reply.
Well, it was easy to see how they had no clue about Jamie now. Standardized testing for mental issues probably never worked. Whatever; I answered the questions but didn't really take my time with them; I wanted to go home and sleep. And since I knew I couldn't go home yet, I'd settle for the cabin. I guess the numbers on my endurance were spot on. Well, that or I was still recovering, and that was throwing things off.
The MCO did have this habit of asking (or demanding) for testing on anyone suspected of being a mutant as soon as possible, after all. In that much my case was hardly unusual. Maybe the Redding branch just didn't have the resources available to hire a psych staff, or something. Hardly a cheery thought.
“Alright, I'm done. Do I stay here while you grade it, or something?”
Dr. Henry produced and envelope. “No. I use this, seal it, and all of you verify it as sealed. Then I send it to our resident experts, and they look at it.”
He slid the test in, sealed it with some special tape, and had the adults all initial the tape. The name on the envelope was “Lapin,” and he had me write that instead.
“What's that all about? Lapin?”
Ibby answered me. “All the testing and stuff is actually filed in a different name, a code name. Your MID will have that name on it. It adds a layer of anonymity to your paperwork and identity.”
I wasn't sure how that was supposed to work in my case; it's not like my situation was subtle. “Okay, so why Lapin?” There had to be more suitable names, right?
“Because it's an old name of mine, and I own the rights to it. I don't own Lapine, or Lupin, or Lupine, or any of the other spellings, just that one.' she muttered something about a lucky bi- err person from Ohio who got Lapine that I was glad my Mom didn't hear and continued: “So since I don't use it anymore and haven't for years, well, it was better than you ending up with something else. Trust me, there aren't that many good names anymore and it gets much worse from there.”
I didn't really mind, it just caught me off guard. I wondered what Jamie's MID had said; she never showed it to me. I was actually kind of touched; I could see the old name meant something to Ibby, and she had just officially given it to me.
“That's all we needed. This test is officially over, and thank you for coming. Now, do you need me to escort you out?”
Mom grinned at him, showing entirely too many teeth; I knew what was coming. “You don't often handle the more social aspects of your job, do you?”
Dr. Henry pondered that for a moment, visibly parsing the words. I knew what Mom was really saying: 'You don't get out, or deal with people much, do you?'
He just answered honestly and completely seriously. “No. Sorry, were there any questions or concerns you had for me?”
We all just shook our heads; I couldn't think of anything else, and I'm pretty sure Mom was stamping the word 'incompetent' over his file in her head. Ibby was the real expert here, something that didn't exactly fill me with confidence, and she just seemed bored.
“I don't have any, no.” Dr. Henry probably just wanted out of here, and that was fine; I most certainly did. But wait, there was something….
“Wait, I do have something. All we did was standard physical stuff, why are you so sure I'm fine?”
“The suit you wore is connected to a variety of machines. Between the readings from those machines and the samples I analyzed here, on site, while you were testing, I feel confident in our answers.”
I guess that made sense. The sensors didn't have to just check heart rate or blood pressure, after all.
Alright. “Just one last question. Why are you trying to get me to leave here with this stupid suit on? I mean, I'd be pretty obvious.”
Dr. Henry flushed and stammered while Ibby laughed. Even Mom chuckled a bit.
“It's fine, just give me five minutes to change out of this stupid thing.” I'd never admit it to another soul, but it chafed in places no one wanted to be chafed when it got sweaty.
I managed to make it into the bathroom without wobbling, and got the stupid thing off while Ibby watched. She gathered it up while I put my clothes back on; I wanted a shower, but I didn't want to do it here. Since we were headed right back home anyway, and I doubted I'd be able to stand up for one for too much longer, at least not without a rest.
“You look pretty wiped.”
Yes, thank you, Ibby. “I feel pretty wiped.”
I was pretty sure Ibby didn't have that problem. She probably only needed an hour or so a night or something. She grinned at me.
“It's okay, don't worry about it. You smell fine. Even with the rubber smell mixed in.”
Her senses were better than mine, clearly; I didn't smell anything. But then again, can you even smell yourself unless you roll in a dumpster or something? I didn't think you could.
“Thanks.”
I managed to get dressed without falling over and get out. The suit fit into Ibby's purse, somehow.
We rejoined Mom and Dr. Henry; Ibby was keeping close. I wasn't sure whether to be pissed or happy about that.
“Alright, we might as well get you out the front door. There is a back entrance, but it's nowhere near where you parked your car.”
Mom had a plan. “I actually have an idea about how to get us out of here with a minimum of fuss. Let's all go to the lobby…”
“..And have ourselves a snack!” Ibby finished. I didn't get it.
Back up front, the rabid reporters were still there; I couldn't see them with the blinds drawn, but I could definitely hear them. The police were still standing guard.
Mom walked right up to the receptionist. “Hi, what's your name?”
Startled, she stammered out “Linda.”
I'd seen the grin Mom had before. “Well, Linda, how would you like to make an easy hundred dollars?”
Ibby started grinning too, and I started worrying. “Another decoy play, eh? It should work, they never really learn.”
I get it. I looked at Linda; she was bigger than I was, but hunched over, with a hoody on, and maybe a hair clip or something that could make bulges under it like my ears… Yes, it could work, especially if the police would agree to escort her. So of course, she shot us down.
“I can't get involved with all that! I could lose my job, getting involved like that. I'm sorry.”
Linda said the last two words directly to me, so I felt obliged to answer, but before I could Ibby interrupted.
“No problem, we have a plan B. Officers, could you go secure our car?”
Officer Trask answered with a glance through the blinds. “We can, but the moment we move the sharks out there will go full feeding frenzy. They will know you're all coming out soon.”
Ibby agreed brightly. “Yep! But they can't really stop me from flying, and I can fly faster than they can run, even while carrying people.”
Officer Trask nodded. “Makes sense. Want us to start the car for you? We could, easily.”
Mom threw him the keys. If you couldn't trust a cop, who could you trust?
Officer Stahl unlocked the door and they both rushed out; Ibby grabbed the door and pulled it shut; it was doubtful anyone was going to win a tug of war with her. She waggled her eyebrows when someone, or someones, tried. Mom was busy watching through the blinds; she waved me off when I got close.
“No, I'll watch. Give one of them a glimpse of you and they might storm the doors.”
Ibby grinned again. “That's right, little sis! You're so cute and irresistible, they may mob us!”
I was suddenly sure I'd die from embarrassment before the week was out. How could she even say such things with a straight face? Even the receptionist was rolling her eyes, but Ibby was completely at ease with all the odd looks.
Wait a minute. If Ibby was going to fly us out, why not just fly us out the back door? Chances were there were fewer people to bowl over there, and the press still wouldn't be able to react. I reached over and locked the door, turning to Dr. Henry.
“Can you show us where the back is now?”
Mom caught on immediately. “Of course, now that they've seen us show up here, we can simply head to the back and fly over the building, right?”
Ibby looked down, ears drooping. “I'm an idiot. Why didn't I think of that?”
Dr. Henry waved us on, back down the hall. “Alright, it's this way. Hurry before they catch on.” He muttered something else, something that sounded like loving cloak and dagger stuff as he led us past the elevators and to the left down the hall.
The door was plain, metal, and unmarked, though there was one of those emergency exit lights above it. Dr. Henry opened it to reveal more than a few reporters staked out there, though less than the front. Before I could shrink back Ibby had a hand around my waist, and one around Mom's, and we were in the air.
People yelled, phones and cameras flashed, and questions I did my best to ignore were shouted, and then we were in front of the car, where more phones and cameras flashed and questions I did my best to ignore were shouted. A flash of officer Stahl opening the door and I was gently shoved inside the back. I locked it with my foot and pulled my hood up.
Then we were off, and we probably hit thirty miles per hour before we left the lot. I hoped no one would try to get in Mom's way; they would probably just get mowed down. Ibby was nowhere to be seen.
“Mom where's Ibby?”
“Dealing with the reporters.” Well, that was a statement that would fill anyone with confidence. There would probably be sappy vapid smiles and worse on the six-o-clock news. Maybe I'd have to watch… if I was awake that is; sleep was sounding better and better.
******
“So, wait a moment. When was the interview, then?”
“A few days later. Ibby had actually got together with Mom and arranged a counter-proposal; if the press would leave us alone and stop camping at our house, we would conduct interviews with the reporters of their choice, as soon as they deemed me sufficiently recovered.”
Ibby hadn't even cracked a joke while lining the proposal out on live television, remaining pleasant but serious.
My seatmate nodded; he'd seen that too. “That's actually pretty brilliant. It would have the reporters themselves arguing over who to send, angering each other and wasting their efforts on each other rather than you.”
I couldn't resist the grin and really didn't want to. “Yep. All my Mom's idea, and that's exactly how it went down. She's really good at her job.”
Maybe he could use a PR agent on the west coast, and would look Mom up. It couldn't hurt to plant the idea.
“So, with the deal in place, you were able to go back to your house?” He prompted gently, and I realized I'd been lost in thoughts of getting Mom a commission, and an allowance raise.
“Oh, no, that took a few days for them to get the message and thin out. I think Mom finally had to resort to injunctions, or whatever they're called, to get the die-hards to stop camping at our door. And the calls never did stop, not really; they just slowed down.”
He smiled, showing teeth almost as white as mine. “Alright, then what did you do next?”
I snickered. “Showered and slept, of course. I was still recovering, and all the testing wiped me out. Of course, the real fun on that front was just beginning; for a month, my doctors ran blood tests twice a week, and they wouldn't take no for an answer.”
He laughed along with good humor. “But after that?”
“Well, I guess the next big thing happened the next day – at least, it was big to me.”
******
I was putting my clothes away, going through my bags, reveling in being alone in the house. Mom and Ibby both were gone, Mom on errands relating to my...situation, and Ibby left soon after to see a friend of hers. That was also probably about me, somehow.
Mom was meeting with reporters.
I didn't have to do that yet, and I was just fine delaying it. I had no idea what I even wanted to say. Of course eventually, I'd have to talk to them, if only to get them to leave me alone. So I was unloading the bag and as I moved the final pair of sweats, I found my old math book staring me in the face.
School was long out, and I'd basically failed, even though there was some exception could be made for a traumatic event that Mom told me I could probably apply for that would allow me to pass; even without taking my finals. The book, Algebra 2, even had my old assignment worksheet for class folded neatly inside it, where I remembered placing it just before Amy Milsner had asked me to help her with something in the Gym.
Somehow this book had found its way from my locker, to my house, to here. That wasn't important. What was important was that I liked math and this gave me something to do besides sitting in the house and watch daytime television.
Except of course I couldn't. The equations were pretty simple, something I remembered doing before, but what was that symbol? A sideways cross, or a floating X? What did it mean, exactly? It was on the tip of my tongue, and I just couldn't… remember, at all. Was it some new symbol that had been covered in my absence?
The book was little help, evidently it was not a new symbol, not even close. It was all through the book, and one of those symbols that wasn't explained in it, which meant it had to be common. So why couldn't I remember it?
I finally managed to put two and two together by reading a few paragraphs and comparing them to the written equations. It was the multiplication symbol. I knew what multiplication was; I'd done it forever… so why was the symbol a complete blank? Even now it felt like the symbol and what I'd learned about it was slotted in a new spot in my head, and not something forgotten and now recalled.
I didn't know if I multiplied first to solve for X.
I didn't know what four times four was. That, at least, I could infer by remembering four times three and four times five… but it was clear I HAD known it, and just didn't anymore. I'd had to relearn it, just now.
I rushed back upstairs and found that Ibby had packed my other schoolbooks. Technically they were the schools property, but Mom had probably grabbed them first and thought I'd need them; probably before my coma took as long as it did. It looked like she was more right than she knew.
My history book was easy enough; any details I missed I could just re-read. English rules were confusing, maybe a bit more confusing but then again English was always a little confusing. More worrying was my social studies book was full of new old laws I didn't know.
I also couldn't remember how to say have a nice day in Spanish, or how to say goodbye in Italian.
The door shut and I blinked back tears to see Mom standing there, some bags in her hands. She dropped them and rushed over.
“Honey, what's wrong?”
There was no good way to tell her this. There was no good way to say it, or even think it. “Mom, I'm stupid.”
She hugged me. “Only when you say things like that. Now, seriously, what's wrong?”
I switched to Spanish as I told her; I could imagine her look of slowly dawning horror as I fumbled my way through the language, butchering words. I had to imagine it because Mom was now stronger than I was, and was holding me to her shoulder.
When I was done, she spoke, her voice only broke once. “Well, the doctors did say that there could be some memory loss. I guess we'll just have to work on it. Now come here.”
She pulled me up and led me into the den, and fired up the computer. Some tapping and she sat me down in the overstuffed chair in front of the desk.
“I'm going to go make dinner. Take every test loaded on that website, then come find me with the results.”
As she left I looked the site over. It was one of those IQ testing things, with puzzles and games and other things. “Mom, I don't want to do this!”
I didn't want to know exactly how stupid I was. I mean I wasn't any great shakes before, just average, so what would I be now? But she just pointed at the chair and left without another word.
Twenty minutes later, I had my answer, the words blinking at me in large text that I couldn't miss: “Well above average”.
That rating, according to the website, was one step down from a genius. I couldn't be sure, so I went to another site, and ran it's test - and ended up with the same result. If this was true, then I couldn't be positive, but I might actually be… smarter? I wasn't sure how that worked; wasn't memory and intelligence linked? I went to find Mom; she was smart herself; if she'd just told me I wasn't stupid, I'd have doubted. Taking these tests without her even saying a word was good. I wouldn't say I was completely convinced, but I wasn't freaking out now.
Mom was making a fresh salad, with some tofu burgers. The box promised they tasted like the real thing, with no actual meat or meat sauce content. I doubted that was possible, but I appreciated the effort Mom was going to. I moved up to help, washing radishes for chopping; I knew she wouldn't let me handle the knife, not this week.
“Well, going to keep me in suspense?”
She was going to make me say it. “Well above average, it said. So did the next one I went to, to get a second opinion.”
She grinned smugly. “I knew it. Tomorrow we have another appointment with a doctor; I think having memory issues counts as something new. But memory is simply retaining information. Intelligence is reasoning power and speed, and you clearly haven't taken a hit there.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The dinner was almost done, so I set the table – and then we waited for Ibby.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The heated portions of the dinner were well on their way to cooling when Ibby finally showed up. She stopped, startled, as she took in what we were doing and Mom shot her a look that promised words later. Her eyes sparkled suspiciously in the light for a moment before she dropped her purse and a bag by the door, and pretty much just appeared in the chair.
“Sorry, sorry. The meeting with my friend ran a little long; we had to discuss certain options.”
Mom looked pretty disapproving. “And you couldn't have called?”
Ibby's ears were drooping, and her eyes were large. “I honestly didn't think of it. I'm new to this sort of thing, Strella. I really am sorry.”
Mom harrumphed. “Just don't do it again.”
Ibby had one ear shielding her face from Mom as she gave me a wink and a nod. I made my hand look like it was cradling a phone to my ear in response. It wasn't cool to make my Mom worry, and I wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. I wasn't sure we should worry, myself, since the rumor was Ibby was pretty tough, but it wouldn't hurt her to let us know what was going on, especially if she was serious about helping us.
Her grin faded a little as she nodded. She really did look contrite. Did I look like that sometimes?
We ate in silence; the tofu burgers didn't taste too bad; not like real meat or anything, but not too far off. As soon as I was done I leaped up to do dishes; Mom wasn't done yet, and Ibby was on seconds, but if I got the water ready they wouldn't knock me out of the way, I was sure.
Mom came in to dry a few minutes later, and again we finished in silence. A silence that Ibby didn't feel as at peace in as the rest of us. I could tell she was struggling for something to say.
“So, I noticed the den door open. Were you looking for another book Tia?” A weak verbal sally, but a good question and a good guess.
“Sorry, I did leave it open, but it was to use the computer. Mom wanted me to test something.” There was no way I was going to tell her about my earlier freak out; the last thing I wanted was to her hear that I thought I'd gone stupid and draw the wrong conclusions.
“Oh?” Ibby didn't want to let it go.
Well, it wasn't like I could keep it hidden forever. “I lost some memories, and they seem to be skill related. I don't know if it was the coma or… or the attack.”
I couldn't tell if I were missing any childhood memories or anything; Mom had promised to go over what she remembered later so we could compare notes, but I wasn't about to start that now. Knowing my Mom, she would drag out the baby pictures as visual aids.
“Ah, sorry. That sounds pretty rough.” Ibby's look was speculative; when Mom turned away, she pantomimed driving. I shrugged; if I'd lost any skill or knowledge of that, how would I even know? I hadn't even known about the math until confronted with it.
Ibby put the dishes up, clearly thinking. I took the chance to ask Mom the question of the day; I hadn't heard her phone ring since she'd gotten home, but I'd heard her answer it, and answer it often.
“Mom, what's going on with all the phone calls? Did you give the media your number or something?”
She grinned. “No, the office is forwarding the calls. They did get my old cell number, but not the new one. The callers are fact checking, asking if what I said about our willingness to negotiate was true.”
Wow, Mom's office couldn't be happy about that, but she didn't seem all that worried, so I guess I shouldn't be.
“So, what's the good word? Are they leaving?” It wasn't that I hated being here… but it wasn't home.
“They are, but it should take a few days yet. Most of them are arguing with each other about who gets the first interview, as expected. The frontrunner seems to be CNN, though channel five has called me three times so far. The rest are probably going to camp out a bit longer on the off chance we come home and they can pester us into a statement.”
It was still pretty unreal; didn't people have anything better to do?
Seems they didn't.
“Hey, kiddo. You look pretty awful. Why don't you go to bed?” Yes, thank you, Ibby, for reminding me of how tired I get from doing nothing at all now. At least the dishes were done.
I couldn't deny that I was dead on my feet, even though I knew I'd probably be up later. “Alright, so you both in the morning.”
******
I flagged the stewardess down and asked for another diet Pepsi. We waited in silence while she handed me one. I grimaced at her fake smile but she was too busy looking anywhere else to notice. My seatmate spoke up gently as soon as she left.
“So, memory problems?”
I answered with a shrug; it wasn't common knowledge, but it wasn't like the mention of it could hurt me anymore, even if he gave it to the press later. I didn't think he would, not anymore; he didn't seem like the type.
“Yeah, the coma was my brain reforging mental pathways, becoming an exemplar brain, whatever that meant. As a result, some purely skill based memories were lost. Thankfully it didn't seem to do anything to experiential memories, or memories that mixed the two. Something to do with the way memories are stored, I was told.”
My seatmate shrugged and took a sip from his drink, a recently refreshed rum and coke. “That doesn't sound that awful at all; bad yes, but it could have been much worse, right? After all, doesn't an 'exemplar brain' imply perfect memory? Wouldn't that allow you to simply relearn the skill and then never forget it again?”
This guy knew a bunch about mutant classification, it seemed; he really was a geek about this stuff. “Yeah, except my brain isn't quite there yet, if it ever gets there. I have the unique distinction of having an eidetic memory that somehow isn't really eidetic. I can forget what I had for lunch last week, but can't seem to forget four times four anymore.”
Well unless I got zapped again, somehow.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “That sounds pretty useful. I could use a memory like that. Self help books can only teach so much.”
I grinned at him, probably a bit more fiercely than I wanted to. “Doubt you'd want to pay the cost for it.”
He held up his hands in surrender, smiling. “You've got me there. I'll stick with the books. So, what happened next?”
I yawned. The sky was getting pretty bright now, and I'd been going for awhile. “Well, I slept, at least for that night. Got up early in the morning and watched some of the media experts give their opinion on my case; none of them seemed to know what they were talking about, and the ER guy CNN had brought in kept calling me a cheater. As far as I know, he never once actually showed up in Redding before the trial, so at the time he knew even less than the reporters. Mom later sued him for defamation; we didn't get it to stick, but it was close.”
My seatmate paused. “The ER guy? Evolution Rocks?”
I nodded as he sipped. “Yeah, Melvin Chambliss. He's a big deal in the organization, apparently. Anyway, that was where I first saw the debate, not that it should have been one. The MCO guy, Jerry Buchanon, calmly refuted him the entire time with facts about the case, and even eyewitness testimony; the kids who saw everything at the time ratted Amy Milsner out. Even if I had been the worst boyfriend ever it shouldn't have made a difference, but the ER guy was only interested in smearing me, for some reason.”
My seatmate hummed, toying with his drink. “Probably to deflect from how bad miss Howe made mutants look with her attack; any sort of bad publicity can set back mutant/human relations, and one like this, so soon after Fullerton? Could set it back years.”
I didn't think Fullerton was exactly a new event, though he had a fair point. But he was also way off about something. “Mutants are humans… just more dangerous ones, sometimes.”
He looked at me a long moment with hard, cold eyes, before laughing, loudly. I shrank back into my seat as people started staring at him. Hopefully, it was just him. “Oh, my dear lady, you are too precious. You're right of course, clearly mutants are humans, just sometimes they have a bit extra going on. It is a brave new world we live in, my dear, too new sometimes for this old man. I apologize.”
He didn't look that old, and I told him so.
“Kind of you to say so,' he replied, 'but hearing you speak like that makes me feel every year. I'll get over it. So, there you are, did you ever get that hike in?”
“The very next day. The cabin is surrounded by forest, and it's all private property.”
“Oh? Whose, may I ask? You implied earlier it didn't belong to Iron Bunny….”
I grinned. “It doesn't. Don't worry, I'm getting to that. Just trying to tackle things chronologically.”
My seatmate sat back again with a shrug. “Alright, but the media never did figure out where you were staying. That's a mystery I'd sort of like solved. Now now, no need to look at me like that! I won't tell them.”
I relaxed my glare and tried to order my thoughts. “I guess, what was next was the first interview.”
******
The press hadn't cleared off my block yet, even two days later, but enough had that Mom declared we could hold off no longer. That suited me just fine, as I wanted to get my side of things out there. Most of the news agencies were still all but calling me a gigolo. The first meeting I had was with a CNN reporter and Anchor named Max Maxwell.
He was a touch over six feet tall, with well maintained brown hair and sparkling blue eyes and chiseled features. He was in shape, and you could see him on every other billboard as the face of CNN news in California. He was also, like his name, almost disgustingly fake, chewing out his make-up people as they ignored him.
Without his make-up he was also more than a little less handsome. It was almost like the difference between an airbrushed photo versus the original.
My own make-up person, Glenda, was applying far more than I ever wanted, but less than he was getting.
“The lights are hot, and you'll need the powder to avoid glistening and sweating.”
I had to ask, even if he was in earshot. I tried to keep it to a whisper. “But what about Mr. Maxwell? He's getting something else.”
Glenda snickered, and it didn't look like she cared if he heard; at least she answered me normally. “That's concealer; Mr. Maxwell eats terrible things, so his skin breaks out. He needs more make-up than you do.” she sighed and muttered, but I heard her clearly:
“We all do. Not fair at all, really.”
A flash of something ugly prompted me to respond. “I'd trade situations in a heartbeat if I could.”
At least she had to good grace to look guilty; she added eyeliner and touch of lip gloss without another word.
We were conducting the interview at a studio in CNN's local affiliate, which was for some reason made to look like a living room, complete with a fireplace in the background; I thought the movie set approach was a pretty bad omen for how things would go but didn't say anything.
Someone else plopped me in an overstuffed easy chair, which wasn't too bad because at least it didn't irritate my tail, and then lit the fire. Mr. Maxwell came in and sat on a folding director's chair. The crew adjusted lights around us. I rated two, apparently, set just off my face so I didn't go blind. Mr. Maxwell rated one, and a teleprompter which was wheeled behind me somewhere. I wouldn't be able to see the questions before he asked them, which sucked. Mom had seen the list and cleared them, but didn't show them to me either; I wasn't sure why.
The lady who lit the fire came back with a microphone and battery pack for it raised in her hands, as if showing them to me. She clipped the microphone to my shirt and slid the battery behind me; I clipped it to my belt, since that's what it was there for, and she threaded the cord out of sight. I wondered what sort of bargain basement operation they were running here; why not wireless?
I was dressed in a nice white dress shirt and new blue jeans; Mom and Ibby both agreed I needed to dress like a simple teen, which was something I agreed with. I might have agreed more if that image hadn't included a bra; the thing was itchy as heck. I didn't even have anything there to need one – I was flat as a board, thankfully – but Mom had just held it out and stared at me while Ibby snickered and muttered something that sounded like 'soon, young padawan' that I was determined to ignore. I must have heard something else there and twisted it, my ears weren't that good, after all.
Finally, we were all set up, and it was time. The cameraman counted us down with his fingers, and Mr. Maxwell transformed from jerk to caring person right before my eyes; it was very unsettling. He still managed to get his name in first, though.
“Max Maxwell here, interviewing a name on everyone's lips, a person in everyone's thoughts; Luke Del Bosque. Luke, how are you?”
I was hoping his first statement wasn't true, is how I was. I tried to smile as the cameras focused on me. “I've been better, Mr. Maxwell.”
His response was immediate. “Please, call me Max. Now, I know this must be difficult for you, but can you answer a few questions for us?”
Well, it was what I was here for. To air all my dirty laundry to anyone who wanted to know. “It's what I'm here for, Max.” I didn't feel right calling this guy by his first name; it felt less genuine to me.
Max surprised me; I wish I could get a look at the teleprompter behind me because someone was clearly coaching him. His tone was gentle enough to soothe even a crazy person. “Can you tell us please, in your own words, what happened?”
I did so, and he let me, the words pouring out in a flood that took almost an hour. He made notes in a small book as I talked, but kept his eyes mostly on me, and waited patiently when I broke down. It wasn't getting shot that did it, it was the look in Jamie's eyes as she shot, and that look that I might have seen in her eyes after, as if her world were ending. I guess it did, in a way.
Mr. Maxwell - Max – waited until I had wound down after the hospital before he spoke. I wasn't worried about ruining any police investigation because I didn't know anything about it. The police hadn't even talked to me since the hospital, even though I suspected they had talked to Mom.
“Alright, Luke, may I ask you some questions?”
“Sure.” Here it comes; Mom and Ibby both had warned me this would happen.
“Alright; there have been some questions raised about the sanity of Jamie Howe. Do you think she's sane and fit to stand trial?”
Well, that question wasn't too terribly bad; I suppressed the image of Jamie's face twisted in rage before she shot me and gave my best answer. “I don't know. That sort of thing is for courts or her doctor to decide.”
He fired right back. This one was tougher to handle. “So you believe she should be prosecuted? That the court system should decide the case?”
I didn't even hesitate, even if I felt like he was laying a trap for me somehow. “I don't know. I've been told that the entire situation is out of my hands, and Jamie will be prosecuted. Those decisions aren't up to me.” I barely stumbled over her name.
He was sharp, or his people were. His next question proved it. “Would you prosecute her if the decision were up to you?”
“I don't know.” I couldn't afford to think about these; I knew I couldn't, but where did he get off asking a question like that? It's only purpose would be to trip me up.
“There have been rumors, even testimony given to the police, that you cheated on Jamie Howe and her assault on you was in response to that. Any truth to that?”
What. Even with Mom's preparation, I gaped at him a moment before the anger gave me back my voice. “No.”
“Not even a kiss with another girl? Nothing at all?”
“I have not kissed anyone other than Jamie or my mother in my life.” It was true, it didn't count if a manipulative witch kissed you. Well, maybe it did to this guy. At least I knew what his angle was now.
“My sources tell me you won't be testifying at the trial; is that true?”
Now what was he after? “I've been told it isn't necessary, and I won't be.”
“You're not foregoing testifying out of a sense of guilt, or to avoid lying under oath?”
What the fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck!?! I stood up and stated clearly into the microphone.“No, I'm not. I signed a sworn statement in front of witnesses. And we're done here.”
Then I took it off and threw it at Mr. Maxwell. To his credit, he caught it with only a slight fumble.
I met Mom coming the other way and tried to grab her; she was going to get into a yelling match while the cameras filmed her, I was sure. Ibby grabbed me instead, just as I broke. Again.
Ibby hugged me to her side, hiding my meltdown. “You did good kid. You did really good.”
It made me wonder what interview she'd been watching. “How?”
She started leading me away from where my Mom was making short work of Mr. Maxwell, verbally. She sounded mad enough to graduate to physical stuff as she chewed him, his cameramen, his other people, and his network out.
“You didn't punch him out? Honestly, you came across as a real natural. It'll be hard for them to edit or twist anything out of this.”
If I had punched him, I would probably have broken my hand. “You think they'll try?”
Ibby smirked as she handed me a tissue. “Yeah, they might. Not sure what agenda that would serve, but it's clear they've got something in mind. It doesn't matter, this one is over and you handled it like a pro – or an honest person.”
She hugged me while I blew my nose. Mom seemed done yelling, storming back with a sharp clack of heels as if she would simply run over all who got in her way. She let up as she got close, though.
“Mom, can we go?”
“Sure we can, sweetie. Let's go get some ice cream.”
It was the beginning of summer; I wouldn't say no. Provided I could still eat the stuff that was.
I turned the gain on my ear clips down to zero; there was still a gauntlet of reporters outside, and they had gotten wise to Ibby just flying me to our cars, so were camping out everywhere we could end up. I wasn't in the mood to deal with them anymore, so with my hoodie up and any sound almost completely dampened I wouldn't have to. I couldn't answer any questions I couldn't hear, after all.
Ibby watched me do it and gave a thumbs up. She would thread through the crowd, and I would be right behind her. Between the security guys that the network had and Mom, no one would stop us. I just kept my eyes on our feet when Ibby opened the doors, ignoring the flashes and bright lights and ignoring the muted sounds and conversations I could no longer entirely hear. Ibby kept one hand over mine, gently pulling me along while the other arm made way for us, probably a bit less gently.
We made it to the car with a minimum of fuss (well, for the new normal anyway) and were on our way. I didn't recognize the route, so it wasn't back to the cabin. I turned my ear clips back up in case Ibby or Mom said something, but they were silent.
It turned out it was to the Cold Rock Creamery, my favorite ice cream parlor. I recognized the person working there, distantly; even her name tag stating she was “Debbie” didn't ring more than a faint bell. she gushed as soon as she saw me.
“Oh my g-gosh! It's Luke! How are you, Luke! Are you okay?”
Mom struck first. “She's a bit tired of questions today, Debbie. I'd like a Caramel White-out please.”
Hmm, a white-out was the Creamery's way of saying blizzard without getting sued by Dairy Queen, and one of those sounded pretty good. When Debbie turned to me with a wince, clearly not even up to asking me what I wanted (Mom often left that sort of impression when angry) I was ready.
“Reeses cup white-out, please.”
She rang it up, then turned to Ibby, and it was interesting watching her face change to equal parts hero worship and envy; Ibby seemed to leave impressions of her own. “A blue slushie, please.”
That seemed suspicious; I turned to her. “Anything I need to know?”
It took her a second to catch on. “Huh? Oh, no, you're good. I just wanted a slushie.”
I could approve; blue slushies weren't bad. They weren't anything to the glory that was purple (blackberry as opposed to blueberry) but they were okay. They had nothing on the glory of a white-out, but little did.
Ibby paid and we all went back to the car; there was a small lot full of picnic tables in front of the Creamery, but Mom hated sitting there; so we all sat on the hood of the car instead. Debbie gaped at us a bit but soon got busy again. None of the other patrons got close to us, but more than a few stared and I thought I heard some camera phone clicks, here and there.
At least they weren't asking us to pose or something.
Ibby broke the comfortable silence. “So, the interview is supposed to air tonight by five. We have a few hours to kill. Anything either of you want to do?”
There was something I wanted to do if Mom would go for it. “Could we go to the park? Lassen peak?”
It was beautiful, and even if it would be crowded there was a trail most tourists never found that would be clear even if there were tourists this early. Most people didn't travel to Latour state forest until a month from now or so because most people drove. Now was the perfect time to go.
Mom finished up and threw her white-out in the trash. “Sure, we can do that. It's a nice day.”
Ibby shrugged. “Sounds good to me, I haven't been there in awhile.”
I had to ask. “How long was awhile?”
Ibby shrugged again as I threw my own now empty cup away, still slurping her slushie. She paused to answer. “About three or four years now, I guess.”
Of course, it was not to be. No sooner had we all piled into the car then a small (As if only four vans and two cars could be considered small!) convoy of news vehicles caught up to us. Just like that I no longer felt like going; it would just lead to a farce as the reporters followed us and ruined the day by shouting questions at us. The road to the Peak was just too open, too well known, and we wouldn't be able to lose a tail.
We all hopped in the car and rolled up the windows. “Never mind, I guess we can go another day. Mom can you lose these guys?”
She didn't bother asking me if I was sure; she knew how this would go if we tried to go for a nice hike now. “Of course we can.”
She drove us to the local police station and into the parking lot, parking between two cop cars. The reporters drove by and left us alone; all of them. Then she reversed with a screech and drove us out the way we came and took the first right, back towards Redding proper and well away from anywhere we'd normally go.
Ibby approved. “Strella, you've got some talent at this.”
Mom replied with a wry grin and a dry look. “I've had to learn a few tricks, dealing with certain people. So where to now?”
I didn't want to risk it. “Back to the cabin, I guess. It seems safe enough there.”
Ibby and Mom shared a look that I couldn't read but didn't say anything.
“Alright.”
The reporters didn't catch up with us, nor did anyone else find us; we pulled into the cabin safely. Having nothing better to do, I went back to rereading my school books, which was slow going. Soon enough news time rolled around and we all gathered on the comfy couch to see how I looked on camera. Well, when I wasn't hiding, that was.
Turns out I looked pretty good on camera, and it was weird seeing myself there; almost like it was a different person, someone like me but not me. And of course, that person looked worse by nature of the editing that had been done to the footage.
It was seamless; if I hadn't been there, hadn't lived it, I wouldn't have been able to see the difference. A little bit cut there, a little bit added there, and while nothing I had said was outright removed wholesale, it had been twisted. CNN had made it look like I had been hiding something… like cheating. They couldn't do much with the final scene, but with the parts leading up to it altered, it looked more like I had just thrown a fit, like a child.
Mom was sputtering in anger. “Those… how dare they! That will be the last time!”
Ibby just gathered us both up and hugged us. She looked more than a little pissed herself, but sad and bitter more than anything.
******
My seatmate frowned and raised a hand to stop me. “So, that interview was indeed edited? I thought it might have been, but it was hard to say for sure….”
I nodded. “It was, whoever did the job was worth whatever they were paying them; they managed to make it look genuine, but every time the camera panned to Mr. Maxwell, to show him asking a question? That was an edit. They didn't change much, but it was enough to change most of the tone of things. I don't trust any taped interview anymore, that's for sure.”
I wouldn't even call that princess Jobe character evil, devisor or not, based on an interview. Of course her actions clearly painted her in the evil category all on their own; she made people orcs for crossing her. It seemed to be a kind of bad habit for devisors… and of course I was going to a place where they gathered to learn how; go me.
“So, what happened next?” My seatmate asked while taking another sip of his drink. He had the bladder of a champion.
“Well, next came the interview with Fox news. We had already scheduled it and Mom didn't want to cancel since there was an agreement in place. If we didn't keep our end of the deal, then the press wouldn't either. I expected another interview like the first, but they really surprised me. They put me on live, didn't try to cut anything off even for soundbites later, and were very nice on air. Mom didn't have anything to call them out on.”
Something suddenly occurred to me. “Say, what's your name, anyway? I mean you've probably told me, but…”
I was sure I'd asked him before, but I didn't remember it. His laugh told me he wasn't offended. “No, I don't think we properly introduced ourselves. Paul Stanley. I know who you are, so no need to say.”
He gave me a meaningful look around, including at the frat boy, who flushed but didn't say anything, and held out a hand. We shook.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, I have the Fox news interview here, on my phone, so no need to cover that one.” A few clicks brought it up and Paul showed me the screen.
I thought for a moment. “Alright, then you probably don't want to hear about the rest of them either, because most of them followed that narrative, television and print news both. Even the one internet interview I did was pretty tame, at least by internet standards.”
I shuddered because there had been a fair amount of internet trolls banned that day; the mods of that site had worked overtime, but I had still seen a few things I wished I hadn't. Paul winced in sympathy.
“Well, I guess chronologically there was my big screwup next. It made some news at the time.”
I really didn't want to talk about it, but Paul just waited patiently. I guess since it had already been reported on it shouldn't really bother me, it was just another part of my life out there for anyone to know about.
“Alright, I'll spill. So the deal was struck, and I was living up to my end of it, and the media decided to live up to theirs, which meant they had stopped camping out. Well, there were still a few, but it wasn't a small mob or anything, and those that stuck around were easy to dodge and ignore….”
******
I put the last of my books back, and with that I was done unpacking again, and finally home, where things smelled familiar and everything was where I didn't have to go looking for it. Mom was downstairs restocking the fridge with more recent groceries from the sounds of things, and I was left staring at my computer.
With a shrug, I woke it up from its extended sleep and boggled as my email window came up. That email account was well and truly screwed; there were thousands of messages in it; how had all of those people gotten the account name? Only a few of them were my friends or names I recognized.
It would probably be best if I just started over with a new one, and called my friends to tell them what it was; there were emails in here from CNN, and many from people with questionable names bearing questionable titles. I didn't really have anything for xtends the fast acting package pump to work on anymore, after all.
Lapin wasn't open, not that I really wanted it. I should probably get a name far different than my own or old one. I went with good old Hiker 13187, which was more than anonymous enough not to raise questions.
Which was what made it weird when an email pinged not a minute later, as I was firing up a game. Even weirder, the email was empty; the name, subject, and body of it all blank. I'd just started shooting digital people when it chimed again. This time, however, the name and title weren't empty. It was from Howeareyou, and the subject read: “Luke, is that you?”
It was Jamie. It had to be, it was her email address.
How had she written an email? She was supposed to be in jail. How did she find my new email address? I'd just made it. Had she tagged my computer somehow, or something, when I wasn't looking? Was she emailing me from jail somehow? Did they even allow computer and email access in prisons? The message body just repeated the subject.
Well either that or someone had hijacked her account as well as bugging my computer or whatever. Game forgotten, I wrote back:
-Who are you, and how did you get this email? -
The response was immediate.
-Jamie, and I installed a program on your computer months ago that lets me know what you're up to. I need to see you, can you please come over?-
That was...creepy. I hadn't even noticed her doing that; it had to have been months ago. Why did she want to see me? Did she want to help, or finish the job?
It really didn't matter. I wanted to see her too. Why I didn't know, but I couldn't just turn my back on her. I didn't know whether it was to hurt her or hug her, but I needed to see her.
-I can, but not right now. Midnight, behind your house.-
After composing and firing off the response I set my alarm and put it on my desk; I'd be shot for focusing on anything else, and I got tired frequently now. I wanted to be well rested for this, but just going to bed would look suspicious for anyone checking up on me. I arranged myself a bit in the chair with the game on and the volume low in order to make it look like I'd just gotten tired and fell asleep, propped my feet up a little, and then made the illusion a reality.
I woke to my alarm blaring, safely tucked in bed. So that meant someone at least, had checked while I was out. I was more than a little shocked that I hadn't woke up when being carried and literally tucked into bed (which pointed to Ibby being the one to check, to me) and even more shocked to realize I'd slept on my tail, which had been folded up and against my back at some point, and still hadn't woken up. That sort of thing was painful. I must have been more tired than I thought.
But I was up now, and felt fine, and it was eleven-thirty, so it was time to go. I straightened my clothes out, threw a hoodie on over them, and used my ears. The house was quiet except for settling noises, and perhaps a mouse scratching around in the walls. I'd have to tell Mom about that tomorrow. The front door was clear; this time was different than the last; Mom trusted me, and the reporters were gone, and I didn't have to borrow a car to go anywhere. If I wanted to take a midnight walk somewhere, I could, so I didn't bother trying to sneak, just kept quiet.
The front seemed to be completely empty of reporters. I waited, watching for a good five minutes to be sure, and nothing. Opening the door and looking out, I waited; I could always slam it in a reporter's face, after all. It probably wouldn't even be the first time for them. But still, nothing; not a creature was stirring outside. Slipping on my running shoes (which were very quiet when you didn't run in them) I grabbed my keys, locked the door, and took off at a fast walk; I didn't want to wake up any dogs if I could help it.
I stuck to the sidewalk and blended in as best I could; the streets were empty of course, we had no nightlife to speak of here. Normally there were at least a few people out anyway, especially in summertime, but I didn't see and hear anyone. It was almost as if the town was holding its breath, tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Or maybe I had read too many horror novels as a kid.
The Howe's backyard was well lit and empty. There were no tricks that I could see, and no Jamie, but then I was a little early. I circled around and waited at the edge of the woods. I didn't have to wait long; a few moments later Jamie came out, alone.
Her eyes were red and puffy, there were tear tracks down her face, and was dressed worse than I was, in a formless baggy jumpsuit, the left leg of which had gathered around the ankle bracelet she wore. She looked around desperately, clenching and unclenching her empty hands.
She looked as absolutely gorgeous as ever.
My mind made up, I broke from the tree line at a jog. She locked onto me and I could see the hope there. Her voice whispering my name hoarsely was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.
And then it all went wrong. As I stepped into the light my hood flew back, exposing my face, and the response was immediate. Jamie's face twisted into a look I'd never seen before, something that completely transformed her face as she hissed out one word like a curse:
“You!”
I skidded to a halt, wary. “Jamie? What's wrong? You wanted to see me?”
I guess she didn't want to apologize after all.
“Not you, you usurping bitch! Luke! What are you even doing with his computer, or in his house! In his clothes! Where is he, and what did you do to him!?!”
I went cold when her grin turned vicious. “No, never mind, wait right there. I'll be right back.”
She turned and ran, actually ran to her garage door. I bolted at my best speed back into the treeline. I didn't stop until I couldn't move anymore and collapsed, panting for breath. I was still well short of home, stopped a bit over halfway of a distance I could have easily covered before, and for all I knew Jamie could be right behind me. I focused on my ears but heard nothing.
Jamie was insane. My Jamie was gone, and the new one viewed me as the enemy. For being myself, for being what she made me, I was her enemy.
As soon as I could, I levered myself up to my feet on my hands and walked home, carefully. I wasn't followed, but I didn't relax until I had my front door shut and the alarm turned on. I turned around and ran right into Ibby.
“You alright kid?”
She wasn't Mom but she'd do.
“Ibby, Jamie is out! I just saw her, I was walking and down the street and she was there and….”
She returned my hug with a hand as she tried to decipher what I was saying. Part of me was annoyed by how stupid, how unclear I sounded, but I couldn't stop myself. At least I wasn't blurting out that I was stupid enough to go to her house. I didn't like to lie, but admitting I was that stupid and getting grounded for a year wasn't a life goal, no matter how attractive hiding under my bed for a year sounded right now.
“Wait, what do you mean, Jamie is out?” Ibby's hand moved and I heard her phone chirping.
“She's out! She was at her house, and she saw me and said… things. Then she ran to her garage and I ran.” I couldn't repeat what Jamie had said to me; I just couldn't.
Ibby's yell shocked me. “Strella! Get down here!” Wasn't my Mom asleep?
Turns out she was. A minute later she stumbled down the stairs, glaring with sleep filled eyes and muttering – until she saw me. She was by my side, hugging me close, and I switched to her. Hugs were good.
I was still listening for oncoming footsteps, though; if Jamie was coming, I didn't want my Mom caught in the cross-fire.
Ibby got right to the point. “We need to file a restraining order, now. Jamie Howe was released on bond this evening. Most news networks have it up; we must have really left an impression since the press isn't knocking down your door to ask about it.”
“What?!? The police didn't even warn us! What the hell!” Mom took a step, towards the door. I didn't want her to go out there, so I held her tighter and dug in.
Ibby threw her phone to the couch and put her now empty hand on Mom's shoulder. “No, Strella. You need to go to the police. Get a restraining order, now. Not the Howe home. We need a way to get her thrown back in jail if she tries anything else, first.”
Mom sighed and scrubbed at her eyes. “Fine, on it. I'll get dressed.”
No, she couldn't go out there! My voice was gone, so I just held her tighter as she tried to take a step, back this time.
“Luke, please, let go.”
Fear. “I don't want her to get you too.”
Mom was able to peel me off with ease while Ibby held on, her ears sweeping back and forth like old radar dishes. Did mine do that when I was listening? “It's clear, there's no one out there. Well, if they are, they are too far to do much or not moving at all. I'd say you're clear to go Strella.”
She turned to me and wiggled her ears up and down with a grin. “Don't worry so much, Tia. Trust the ears.”
I knew what she was doing, but despite myself, I snorted a laugh. It just made her look so ridiculous. Mom went upstairs to get dressed while I was distracted, and Ibby led me to the couch, picking up her phone on the way. I wondered why she was here; she hadn't been earlier. Surely she had her own life she should be getting back to?
Whatever, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Jamie ever met Ibby, well, Ibby would win, ray guns or not. Ibby had survived actual supervillains, even some of the worst around. She'd even had T-shirts printed: “I survived the Savage Six, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.” She'd had a whole closet full of them at the cabin, one for each villain or villain group.
When Mom came back down to leave I got up and escorted her to the car, just to be safe. Ibby followed, it looked like she was escorting me, though. The car was empty, there was no one hiding in the back seat.
Once Mom was safely off I hurried back inside and locked up. It took me two tries to set the alarm; my hands were betraying me. Ibby just watched, and then reached out and gently steered me back into the living room. I ended up almost sitting on her phone.
She turned on the news and there it was, for all the world to see: “Millville mutant out on bail.” There was even one of those tickers at the bottom. I focused on that, and not on Mr. Maxwell droning on in that smug way of his. The ticker said she had been out less than an hour. If that was true, how did she email me, hours earlier? The hearing would have been going on, would she have had internet access during it, maybe during a break or something?
It didn't really matter now; it was done. What had the cops been thinking? She was dangerous… she wasn't well. Under the layer of fear my heart ached.
Ibby shut the television off. “Come on, kiddo. Let's do something useful.”
She escorted me into the kitchen while the cars and vans began pulling up outside. We ignored them and Ibby taught me how to make muffins. Never mind that I already knew and she was bad at it.
******
Paul shook his head. “Did you ever see her again?”
I suppressed the shudders. “Just once; at the end of the trial, when she was sentenced. She got Juvenile hall until she was eighteen and then some sort of reassessment thing, which means she can end up with probation or a few more years in jail. The DA failed to prove the assault was with a deadly weapon, and it was her first offense.”
I had wanted to testify at sentencing, to make the judge understand how sick she was. But the state psychologist, while admitting she was (crazy) sick, had cleared her to stand trial. He said she knew right from wrong, and apparently that was enough. Mom had overruled me, so instead of Restpadd psychiatric Jamie got Shasta county Juvenile hall.
She had seen me on the way out of the courtroom, and thrown what could only be called a screaming fit while cameras rolled and bulbs flashed. I was sure Paul had that on his phone too.
Paul didn't mention that, though, instead switching gears. “So, with all that the media was back?”
I nodded. “The trial was expedited after Jamie made bail – it was set at a hundred thousand dollars – and she was forced to wear an ankle bracelet. If she turned it off or tampered with it she went back to jail, and was basically under house arrest. The ACLU and ER people threw a fit over that, but it was set as a condition of bail by the judge, so there wasn't much they could do but protest.”
The view of protestors outside Jamie's house and around the local stores and gas stations with “Free Jamie Howe” signs had been unnerving, to say the least. They hadn't set up in front of our house at least… the reporters coming back had kept them away. Even when the real facts of the case were revealed more than a few of them kept on going. And of course the MCO and H1 people had counter-protested, leading to a big mess, but they hadn't given us any trouble.
Agent Berkowitz and I even became friends; he invited me to his birthday party and everything. I'd seen him at every test, and we exchanged email and phone calls all the time.
Paul wanted to speak of different emails. “So, did you get the virus or whatever it was off your computer?”
“Yeah, but that led to the next thing I should probably tell you….”
It was highly embarrassing, but I had promised to be thorough if he didn't rat me out. I thought he had what he wanted now, but I probably shouldn't risk it.
******
Saturday. Just another meaningless day, watching the reporters outside the house and the protestors down the street. Summer was well under way, but I was stuck here at home, with only tests to determine where my memory issues were and my language practice to keep me company. My alarm said nine; I had slept in and missed my morning run, but it didn't matter.
I had been getting better at talking to the media, mainly because they had been getting better at asking questions that weren't stupid or insulting. Things like 'Tia, how are you today?' or 'Tia, what do you think of Rex Davies's testimony?' (the latter of which I couldn't really answer) were now replacing 'Tia, are you going to be a cheerleader next year?' and 'Tia, what are your measurements?'
Thanks to the efforts of my Mom and Ibby, my new nickname was catching on. I couldn't be Luke anymore.
Any serious question I answered to the best of my ability, usually politely. The key was to answer a few questions as politely as I could and simply go on about my day; the reporters usually took the hint and let me go about my day with a smile. The ER crowd was far worse; they didn't seem to want to believe anything other than Jamie was a saint, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
I wanted a slushie from the corner store, something to cut the heat of the day that was even now rising, early or not. But the ER rocks crowd was that way, and my appearance would likely start a riot. At the very least, there would be eggs thrown or similar, and I wasn't really in the mood for that.
“Tia! Time to get up!” Ibby had been spending a lot of time with us, guarding us, and while I didn't mind it was a little weird. Yesterday she had walked around half the day in her underwear, in our house. When mom called her on it, she apologized, but her excuses were… off. Ibby had claimed it was simply too hot, and she had been told to make herself at home by Mom, and that was what she did at home when it was too hot, so she thought it'd be fine.
Mom had accepted it, then given me a weird look. Hey, she was a good looking woman, and while I'd noticed, I hadn't been about to say anything. I was assaulted, not killed. Then I spent the rest of the day happy I didn't bat for the other team; that would have been all kinds of awkward.
My doctor had told me behind a closed door that my hormones would settle and the levels rise, and that I shouldn't try to fight it. My response was to quote John Paul Jones at her. She had laughed, then told me exactly what to expect as my hormone levels rose, cementing my opinion of her as a very evil woman.
Thanks to her, when I looked, I could almost see my hips widening and chest balloon by the second. She already had me scratching as if I had a skin disease, just from the nervous reaction.
Back to Ibby, because it was impossible to get lost in thought when she just barged into your room. “Tia, time to get up already!”
She stopped, taking the scene in no doubt.
I agreed with her on the heat, and while I tended to wear more clothes that she did while she slept (the better to be decent to wander around the middle of the night in) my old pajamas didn't really fit anymore. Baggy before, I could swim in them now, so I was just wearing the shirt, which covered everything. Well, that and underwear of course; I'd tried boxers the first night back but I'd kicked them off somehow in the night. The panties stayed put. So I was sprawled out on the bed, stretching, with my shirt riding up when she came in.
I covered up with a yelp. “You're supposed to knock!”
Ibby straightened up, actually sounding contrite. “Sorry, sorry. But we have someplace to go today, and you need to get dressed and eat breakfast.”
Well, that was curious. Ibby didn't take me places by herself, and I knew for a fact Mom had plans today. “Where?”
Ibby shrugged with a smirk as she closed the door. “Just back to the cabin, going to have you meet a few of my friends. Strella said it was okay, in case you're worried. You can call her and ask.”
It occurred to me the clips weren't in my ears, and Ibby had carefully pitched her voice so it wouldn't be loud to me. Maybe if I asked, she'd teach me how to do that. “No, it's fine, I trust you.”
I'd barely gotten some pants on when the door opened again and Ibby burst through, startling me with a hug.
What? “What? What's wrong? What did I do?”
She was leaking tears, but she gave me a smile. “Nothing, I just couldn't resist! You're so huggable!”
I felt like I should scream I needed an adult… but then I remembered what I just said. I was even more surprised to realize that I meant it. Ibby had gone from a source of wary caution to a familiar presence, mutant or not.
“Alright, get out and let me dress already.” I couldn't shake her off and I knew it, so I had to wait patiently while she sniffled loudly, got up, then went out again, closing the door behind her.
And she had still been quiet enough not to hurt my ears, even while shouting. Well, kind of shouting. Shouting for us? I didn't know, I didn't really know the words for it. At any rate, the clips went on before I changed shirts.
Breakfast was waffles. Actual homemade waffles with strawberries or blueberries baked in, from our very own waffle maker. Wait, were those blackberry waffles? Mom made them then, and they would be delicious. I shoveled all of those I could find (which turned out to be four) and buttered them up. You just don't put syrup on waffles with fruit mixed in.
Ibby had apparently already eaten because she just drank some coffee and watched me inhale mine. It was sort of odd since there were a good ten waffles left and two dirty plates. That seemed like a lot of food to make, and Mom wasn't that big on cooking, or wasted effort. She preferred things be made fresh, just before they were eaten, and not stored.
Even though Ibby tried to hurry me up, after finishing I downed my orange juice and packed the other waffles in the fridge. Even if they were waffles of an inferior fruit mix, they were still food, and Mom hated wasting food – which might be why she never made any to store, come to think of it.
It was a bit after nine-thirty before we stepped out into the sun, and Ibby walked over to her car. I stopped, taking it in. Instead of the black and nondescript late model SUV, I expected, her car was a Mustang convertible. A bright pink Mustang convertible.
Well, I could see why she borrowed the SUV now.
I got in and hunched as far into myself as I could; the reporters were being respectful about distance and questions now, but that didn't stop the cameras from flashing and rolling. Ibby just waved at them with a sunny smile, immune to the embarrassment of her car.
It was a nice car otherwise, a classic perfectly maintained. I wasn't a car buff, but I could see that with ease. It was clean, really clean, and started right up. The members of the press got well away from the driveway, and Ibby backed out, still smiling: “See you later, my adoring public! Got somewhere to be!”
I looked back to make sure they weren't following; they weren't. When I turned my eyes front again I saw Ibby waving at someone.
It turned out to be two someones; Marcus and Rex.
I'd tried to see Marcus and a few of my other friends. My old friend Clayton hadn't even responded to my emails from yet another throwaway address, made this time after I wiped my computer clean. Marcus and I had spoke, but he said he couldn't even get to the door of my house, the reporters were too thick, and he didn't want to be on the news. Seeing Rex was a bit of a shock; I hadn't even known Marcus and Rex were friends.
The wonder twins had blocked me. I had seen them on the news, they weren't shy about stating they believed Jamie's version of events and believed me to be the worst kind of cheating trash. I couldn't even use the words they said in impolite company, let alone polite.
My other friends had yet to respond; I was getting a real glimpse of how Jamie had been treated by our peers earlier, and I wasn't immune to the irony. Even if the circumstances were different when admitted to by the experts; for one, some reporter, an Amanda or Amelia something-or-other had cornered Dr. Henry and asked him point blank if I was a mutant. Dr. Henry had replied that his testing revealed I was a 'powered individual' with better than human norm hearing and was baseline in every other area. I can only assume money changed hands because those test results were supposed to be private.
He then likened my situation to a hypothetical of advanced gene therapy to correct genetic defects, something that there have been breakthroughs on lately using nanite surgery, and were certainly nothing to be concerned about other than the obvious moral and legal ramifications.
The upshot of being thrown under the bus like that had been that my neighbors had mostly stopped treating me as if I were going to explode and pull another Fullerton.
Marcus saw Ibby, saw the car, and then our eyes met, hunched down or not. His jaw dropped and he pointed right at me, but we were past before Rex had taken his eyes off Ibby, if he ever had. Sometimes I loved Ibby, if only because next to her I looked like nothing special.
Speaking of Ibby: “Friends of yours?” She asked, in a normal tone of voice, which even with the top down and wind howling carried to me easily. She'd noticed where Marcus had been pointing, then.
I had to think about it for a minute. “Yes, I think so.” Marcus probably was, at any rate; very little phased him.
Ibby patted my hand. “Don't worry, they'll come around.”
“Probably; from what I understand, Marcus at least was simply chased off by the media. And not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but could you keep both hands on the wheel?” She was already looking more at me than the road and driving a good ten miles per hour over the limit.
Ibby grinned but dutifully turned back to the road. Her hand went to the gear shift and not the wheel, but at least it was closer to it. “Marcus, huh? That the fat kid?”
PC, Ibby wasn't. “Yeah, Marcus was the overweight one. He and I have been emailing each other.” He hadn't even asked for pics, the way some others of my class had. Probably because there were more than enough pictures of me running around already, and more every day. The way politicians were still talking about my case, it wasn't dying down. On the contrary, interest seemed to be ramping up. My name had reached a record number of searches on the net yesterday.
Ibby turned on the radio, singing along to some golden oldie I didn't recognize, and the now familiar trip to the cabin passed without conversation, if not silence. We pulled into the cabin's drive, and had to park in the little dirt lot; there were about twenty cars, more than a few of them pink mustangs or other sports cars. The exact same pink of Ibby's car. The ones left were nice understated sedans… except for the stretch limo. Who would bring a stretch limo out to California back roads?
Ibby headed for the backyard and I kept pace, following the smell of barbecue. A few steps and I could hear the meat sizzle. So, owns a stretch limo, and barbecues at ten in the morning.
I rounded the corner of the cabin a step behind Ibby and stopped.
The yard was full of hot women.
Some were setting up picnic tables. Some were setting up citronella candles. Some were lighting those same candles. Some were running to and fro with plastic plates, knives, and forks, a variety of liquids I was too young to drink, and other things. They were all dressed in normal clothes, shorts, and tees for the most part, and nothing skimpy. But I knew who they were, whether they were wearing their plastic ears or not.
And there, the man of the hour, standing at the grill with a lush young blonde helping him, was Hugh himself, in his customary robe, striped pajamas, and slippers.
I was in the midst of a Playboy convention.
“Come on, Tia. Time to meet the girls!” Ibby had turned and was tapping her foot, arms crossed. The smile and sparkle in her eye betrayed her ,though.
“You couldn't have warned me?” I was no longer as good with surprises as I once was.
She started dragging me. “Nah. You needed to get outside the house anyway, you've been hiding out in it for days. You needed some fresh air, and some friends of ours wanted to meet you, so here we are! This little get together is a yearly thing, we all get together and talk shop or catch up, and just celebrate being awesome.”
Celebrate being awesome? Yeah, I could see it.
She hadn't stopped pulling me; our target was the closest table, the one already completely set up of course. She stopped, still holding on to me, and yelled, loudly.
“Hiiii everyone! My friend here is Tia; Tia, everyone!”
I put an elbow in her side as everyone looked at us, which she ignored with a smile. It was almost like someone had thrown chum into a shark tank; anyone not already doing something was closing on us. No, not us, on me. At least they seemed like nice sharks. They took turns and everything.
“Hello, Tia, I'm Marsha!” Stated a chipper silver haired lady that had to be in her fifties, but had aged very well.
“Good morning Tia, I'm Andria.” Stated an even more chipper brunette that looked to be around Mom's age.
And so on, they introduced themselves politely, one at a time, sometimes holding a hand out to shake, and sometimes just continuing to do cookout stuff. There were a few guys as well, some dapper, some scruffy, but they seemed to be plus ones to the event. And through it all Hugh stood, manning the grill with his helper. Ibby tugged me over there as soon as the last playmate, a chocolate skinned raven haired beauty that rivaled Ibby's curves named Kalindra, introduced herself.
Ibby got close and introduced us. “And here is your host, Hugh. Hugh, Tia.” She apparently didn't feel his last name needed to be mentioned. She was right.
He turned and gave a sunny smile, dropping the steak he'd been inspecting. “Pleased to finally meet you, Tia. And please, call me uncle Hugh. Ibby is like a daughter to me.”
He held out a hand and we shook. I didn't grip too hard, he looked breakable. He was old. Old old. So skinny he was almost emaciated, lines everywhere, but his eyes still sparkled with life and vigor, and he moved a bit better than it seemed he should.
“Pleased to meet you, sir. So, this cabin is yours?” Of course it was, it was big enough that everyone here could sleep, at least if they bedded down two per room, and some of the décor… well, who else would have a hot tub in the living room, under the floor?
“Sure is, the summer home away from home. It was in a good spot and the real estate market was in a dip, so here we are. It makes a good place to entertain from, away from the mansion. And please, call me uncle Hugh.”
The playmate next to Hugh's side chose that moment to introduce herself: “Hi, I'm Jennifer. Pleased to meet you, Tia.” We shook.
Hugh winked at me and held up the steak he'd been inspecting. “Don't worry Tia, this one's actually tofu. It's actually pretty amazing, the things done with food nowadays. I can't even tell the difference.”
I couldn't tell the difference either, it even had a bone? Was the bone edible? “Sir…' I started and he gave me such a look of disappointment I couldn't help but correct myself. 'Hugh. Not to sound rude or anything, but why am I here? I mean, you don't know me, I don't know you….”
He smiled again, loading the grill up with hotdogs while Jennifer took some ribs off for room. “Ah, but you know Ibby, and I know both Ibby and your Mom. Strella does public relations work for me and a few of the playmates, and she sometimes gives out free financial advice to the bunnies. As for why you're here, Ibby and your mother both agreed you needed to get out of the house, and Ibby really didn't want to leave you alone there, but she didn't want to miss the party.”
I glared at Ibby and she shrugged, she wasn't sorry about that at all.
Hugh continued: “And lastly, you're here because of opportunity. What type and how you can take advantage of it will have to wait until your Mom gets here, however. My lawyer.' he pointed out Marsha with his head, 'insists. That will be sometime after lunch, so relax and enjoy!”
I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what the opportunity he was speaking of was. He pioneered the rabbit eared look, after all.
“Thanks, um, Hugh. I'll do that.”
The women (Bunnies? Playmates?) wouldn't leave me alone. Anywhere I went, one would be, and they are always polite and friendly, but present and insistent I join into whatever was going on. I played two games of chess (lost both), one of twister, of all things (Ibby joined in and cheated by flying, but no one cared other than to laugh and throw stuff at her) and went on a hike with Marsha the lawyer, who had better stamina than I did. And throughout it all, the women talked.
Lyndsey, the chess player, complimented my play with a smile even as she destroyed me. Betty and Sandra, our audience, did too. They said only a few people could beat her, and I showed promise.
Nicole, out early in the game of twister, complimented my flexibility, which felt odd since I'd done nothing to earn it. I told her so and she sighed, pouted, and promised to show me some yoga exercises to keep it. Andre, also watching the game on the sidelines, kept telling me where the nearest colors I needed were behind me, prompting some cheating catcalls. Well, before Ibby spun around in the air and the focus turned to her.
Marsha talked about the trees and the birds in the area, even pointing out the more rare species flying around.
In short, they were all so nice. It was insane, in a way; I was even pretty sure their choices in clothes had been because they knew I was coming. As soon as we got back from the hike, lunch was served and I ate at a table with Hugh, Marsha, Lyndsey, and Jennifer, eating tofu and fries.
The fries had been properly fried, and Jennifer had told Hugh no when he went to grab some... So he stole one of hers with a smile. She was not amused – I got the feeling she was his nurse or something – and neither was the rest of the table. No one said anything, but the mood of the table went gloomy until Hugh held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright, no more. So, how about a story, Tia?”
The table tensed again for a moment, before Hugh launched into an improbable tale of an expedition to Africa which sounded like something out of a movie, and probably didn't happen. Or not happen that way, in any rate. It was interesting though, and by the time he was done with it Mom was there, eating right next to me, having somehow switched with Lindsey without me noticing in all the noise and confusion of scents.
“Mom! How long have you been there?!?”
She swallowed a bite with a grin. “About since the intrepid party reached the Congo. You having fun?”
I half wanted to hear the end of the story, if only to get a good idea on how far Hugh would go to finish it. The real story had probably ended up with them in a hotel/resort somewhere, sipping mixed drinks and laughing about the lies they'd tell people later. He was good at it, though, it was a shame to stop him.
“Yes, it's been fun, and everyone's been really nice. But now that you're here, we can get on to why I'm here. Something was mentioned earlier about an opportunity?”
Hugh actually pouted for a second; it was a little weird. Marsha however, got serious, and though Jennifer was still smiling, she tensed. I really hoped they weren't going to suggest what I thought they would – I liked them so far, but I would walk right home if they did.
Mom smiled. “Right to it, huh?”
She took a last bite, downed her drink, and turned serious herself. Hugh spoke first, however.
“My company, my brand, is in trouble. To be blunt, it's as old as I am. Ibby, the bunnies, the playmates, it's from a time that no longer exists, and it's dated.”
I couldn't argue that. How could Playboy compete with the internet?
“We are in the process of rebranding' Hugh continued, 'but it's rough going. The response to new investments in clothing, fashion, and other areas has been underwhelming, at least in the U.S. There have been some inroads in Japan and Asian countries, but that's neither here nor there.”
He pointed to Ibby. “Ibby did the same thing when she was a little older than you are now; she was a spokeswoman of her generation. A few of the other girls here did too. Now you may not like them, but those ears of yours, and that tail, present you with a unique opportunity; I'd like you to be that spokesperson I need for this generation. The one to help me connect with the youth of today, and help my company. In return, I'll help you.”
I had to just throw it out there. “I'm not going to pose for your magazine, Mr. Hefner.”
Just the very thought gave me the chills, and it would invite attention I didn't want. Even if I was comfy in my own new skin I don't think I wanted to give people more cause to burn me at the stake, either figuratively or literally.
But Hugh agreed immediately. “Of course you won't; that wouldn't send the right message at all. And please, call me uncle Hugh. What I want, is for you to ask around, get to know the girls, have fun and be happy… and ask them about me. I'll treat you as I do any employee of mine. And then what I want, is for you to sign a contract to me, stating that any modeling work you do I get first crack at. I'll pay you well for that.
Then what I want, is when you're ready, you model for me; clothes modeling, mostly. Just selling the brand to the young crowd. You'll get free clothes, and it's good quality stuff, travel expenses to locations, the works. And you won't even have to wear a bikini if you don't want to. But that's all at your call, and subject to things like school or a day job or whatever else you want to do.”
Jennifer weighed in: “He means it. I'm a certified nurse with eight years of school behind me, and he paid for it all.”
“He paid for my stint in law school. Whatever you want to do, he will back you in it.” Marsha added.
Hugh leaned back, looking pleased while I thought. “Thanks, girls, it's kind of you to say.”
Marsha snorted loudly. I turned to Mom. “Can I talk it over with Mom?' and afterthought and I added 'and Ibby?”
Ibby looked genuinely surprised, but Hugh just nodded. “Sure, but if you don't mind, you'll have to be the ones to move.”
I could deal with that. I led the two people here I knew off onto one of the hiking trails.
“So, what do you think, Mom?”
She searched my eyes a moment. “The deal he's offering is an exclusivity arrangement. You don't have to model at all, even if you sign it, but if you do, you model for him first. He owns some rights to your image in conjunction with you until the contract expires. Even if you never have a single photo taken, he pays you for the privilege. The only downside I see in this is if word of the contract gets out; it could sway public opinion against you. However, a non-disclosure agreement on all parties would probably stop that from happening.”
Ibby rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true PR agent.” She turned to me. “Look, kiddo, Hugh is trying to be nice to you here, as nice as a guy who owns a business can. He wants to throw money at you, something I can agree with because you're a good kid. This contract? It doesn't really have a downside to you. If it had, I'd have told him to stuff it before today.
If he thinks you can help out in return, I can sort of see it, but it's up to you. If we make sure the proper clauses are in your contract before we sign, he can't force you to do anything you don't want to, even if he would, which he won't. All of us?
We're here because we want to be, and even if you don't sign anything, you'll be leaving here today with enough digits to make Saudi princes jealous. You'll be one of the sisterhood, like it or not, and you'll be able to call on any of us, any hour. You need legal advice at 3am? You call Marsha. You need gardening advice? You call Nicole. Need to know what to do in case of carpenter ants? Well, you'll call Marsha again, because she knows bugs.
And us? When we need to know how the younger generation thinks, or stuff about computers, well, we might call you. That's a given whatever you decide.”
I was touched. These women didn't really know me… but it sounded like they wanted to. A few of them were even minor celebrities in their own right (I knew from Mom it wasn't polite to point that out) and they must know a little of what I'm going through; just venting to them might be nice.
“And, if you do decide to model later… most of that will be hitting foreign shores, like Japan and Germany. You'd be modeling jeans and hoodies and shirts and stuff like that. Swimsuits, possibly, but one pieces are possible. Activewear, like track suits and sweats, hats, sunglasses, that kind of thing.”
It seemed to me that I wasn't as perfect for the job as everyone seemed to think, really. “but what about my tail?” I wiggled it. “It's not a puffball like yours, or like the bunnies wear.”
Ibby nodded. “We think that's a plus, actually, as well as your more unique appearance. Gives a further level of separation to the new brand. Focus groups agree.”
Focus groups? They had put together focus groups for this? And this fast?
Ibby read my look. “No, not focus groups just for you, focus groups on what we should look for in new models. Those were conducted a year ago, it's just happy coincidence that you seem to fit.”
This was all pretty fast. I didn't think I was model material at all, and it would probably only add to the numbers of squicky mail I'd gotten since IT happened, not to mention further the stereotype many people were already sure I'd be living up to. If I did it, it would link me to everything Hugh, for better or worse.
In short, it would have to be a lot of money on that table. I doubted I'd be offered enough.
I decided to at least ask. “How much is he planning on offering?”
Ibby fired back immediately. “A hundred thousand, for starters, plus whatever perks we can get him to agree to.”
That… was a lot of money to do nothing for someone on, even with the baggage. I looked at Mom, and she didn't seem surprised.
She stayed silent, letting me work it out. “What sort of perks are you talking about?”
Ibby got less exuberant… nervous? “Well, it's something your Mom and I have been discussing. How would you like to finish school somewhere else? Somewhere secret, where reporters aren't allowed, and the medical experts are top notch? If you should… destabilize, they have the best chance to fix you. One of the doctors there, Quintan, is one of the foremost experts on mutation in the world.”
Something was fishy here. “Sounds expensive, and what would a doctor be doing at a school?”
“Well, it is expensive, but I've offered to split the cost with Hugh. And the doc does research of course.”
Research, from the foremost expert on mutation, at a school, could only mean one thing.
“You mean to send me to a mutant school? Xaviers home for powered psychos?” I was a little proud at how even my voice sounded.
That and a little worried about it.
Ibby winced. “We aren't all bad, you know. And the school cracks down on troublemakers very hard; I have the old detention slips to prove it. You'd be safe there. But most importantly, only a few people know it exists, and even fewer know where it is. They get famous or infamous kids there often, so they know how to deal with it.”
Mom was still silent. I looked to her. “Do you think I should go?”
She nodded immediately. “Yes. They are best equipped to handle the problems you have, and can find and deal with any more we've missed; like the memory issues you have.”
Mom had a point. If something else popped up, could I really expect the tiny MCO office that only had a receptionist on permanent staff to help me? The hospital, whose experts had been flown in? My new doctor, who was lacking in experience with cases like mine? Mom didn't want to take the risk.
But it was a mutant school; filled with mutant devisors.
“Can I think on it? Can we just add that as a possibility, and let me think it over?”
Mom smiled. “Of course we can.”
She'd likely be yelling at me later.
Ibby grinned instead. “That sounds like a yes to me. That your answer, kiddo?”
I thought about it, one last time. “Yes, it's a yes. Negotiations I'll leave to Mom, but I'll sign.”
I knew I was out of my depth, but I was sure Mom had done this sort of thing before.
Ibby corrected me. “Hey, your Mom AND me, Tia. I'm actually on your side on this one.”
We went back, and what followed was probably the most boring hour of my life. Between Mom, Marsha, Ibby, and Hugh, they managed to use enough words I didn't know and doublespeak to completely lose me. I understood enough to know the contract didn't change much from how it was outlined to me earlier, but there were additions of the school tuition and incidentals being covered and gifts… and a mail service? A doctor on call?
Ibby explained. “We all get mail, internet or snail. The service culls through it first and removes undesirable mail so we don't have to see it. Strella told me about some of the stuff you've been getting.”
“But what about the doctor?”
“Well, he's a doctor, but he's more of a pharmacist. He only became a doctor so he could write his own prescriptions; we aren't sure if you'll need his expertise, but it never hurts to put it in the contract. After all, paying him out of pocket is… expensive, and he's busy often. Putting him on retainer means he drops everything if you need him. He made your clips too, and if they break it sucks."
That sounded more than a little weird; a retainer for a doctor? “Is he okay with this?”
Ibby shrugged and flashed me an irreverent grin. “I don't know, why don't you ask him? He's in the living room, on the couch, watching a movie.”
So she was volunteering the guy without checking with him first? Wow. “Think I will. Be right back.”
There was only one person on the living room couch, though one of the women was also watching the movie; Felicity was her name. Like everyone else around, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and he looked bored. Felicity, on the other hand, was surfing the web on her phone, playing some kind of game that was a little annoying to hear. I was beginning to understand why everyone had dressed in shorts; the cabin was getting pretty hot and the air conditioning was off.
The movie was one I hadn't seen before; I sat down on the other side of the couch and studied him. He was a handsome guy, not stacked the way the guys outside were, but built and with refined features. He was just beginning to go gray, but he didn't look distinguished at all. He looked more like a hippy dressing up than a doctor dressing down, for all that he was clean shaven and had short hair.
“Ibby's out there right now, volunteering your services on retainer on total strangers.”
He turned and gave me a once over. “Not total strangers, to you. You're her sister.”
He held up a hand before I could let him have it. “Not by blood, but she's… adopted you, kinda, I guess. And that's good enough for me. If you have special problems with biology and need meds, I'm your guy. Working name's Bolus, by the way.”
He offered his hand and we shook. “Special problems?”
“Ibby's a regenerator, kid. Most medications just won't work on her, and those that do don't work as well. I can make medications that work with unique biology.”
That made sense. Ibby had already told me what medicine she took, and what she took it for. So this was the guy that made it, huh?
He continued. “The way I understand it, bringing me in is simply a 'just in case' thing. I'm also good at making complex stuff that has few to no side effects, so you don't need to watch 25 seconds of a 30 second commercial hearing all the ways in which your eyeballs can explode from taking meds you may need.”
He laughed along with me. Those commercials were funny, but I'd never take the medications pharmacy companies showed on them for that very reason; it seemed counter-intuitive to advertising to me.
Still, I pressed on. “So you're fine with it?”
He shrugged, turning back to the movie. “Sure, I wouldn't have told her to do it if I wasn't. Seriously, you should hear how she talks about you when you aren't around; it's always 'Tia this' and 'my little sis' that. She thinks the world of you, somehow. It's actually kinda disturbing, but that's Ibby for you.”
I could see it.
Meh, screw going back out there, I was a little tired and wanted to see the movie. I stretched out on the remaining space of the couch and settled in.
Then I crept up until I was comfortable. When Bolus started stroking my ears, running his fingers gently through the fur, I realized I was leaning against him, but it felt so nice I didn't want to move or tell him to stop. It didn't make sense anyway since I was already touching him.
It was some time later when we were both lost in the plot of spaceship battles and explosions, and the mighty Xen'xe empire's conquering of the peace loving Dilosites (and I was just beginning to nod off) that the door opened and Bolus spoke.
“Ibby, could you get my bag, please? The one in the corner?”
“Sure, what's going… oh.”
I looked up to see Ibby towering over both of us; her face looked sad. Had negotiations broke down while I was gone or something? I didn't care, I could always fix it later when I wasn't this content or sleepy. I stretched and draped myself over Bolus a little more. He absently switched hands until he was stroking my ears again.
“Come on, Tia, up you go.” Ibby grabbed my hand and pulled me up, even when I slumped as dead weight.
“Why?”
Mom entered the room: “Tia, time to... what's going on here?”
Oh, that tone of voice. She was not happy with someone. “Nothing Mom, just got a little tired is all. Is it time to sign my life away?”
Okay, I know the joke was a bad one, but did everyone have to look at me like that?
Ibby pulled me the rest of the way up and Mom turned to her. Ibby wouldn't meet her eyes. Mom turned to Bolus who had both hands up in surrender. I was beginning to think I was the one in trouble, somehow. Ibby kept me close as she passed the bag over.
“What's wrong? Did I do something wrong somehow?”
Mom crossed the distance and hugged me close, whispering in my ear. “No Tia, you haven't. But you're not going to like what I have to say. You were sitting on the couch, right?”
I thought about it. “Well, I was more lying on it, because I was tired....”
Mom nodded; she was crying. I'd made her cry somehow. “Across a man you never met before today. Was he doing anything to you?”
“No, he was just stroking my ears.” Oh wait. Oh, God. A person I never met before today, a man no less, and I was laying across him and letting him touch me because it felt good. Even now I couldn't see the harm, but that only meant one thing: I was like Ibby.
No wonder people were freaking out; I was stupid and disgusting. I was everything Jamie had called me and more. I had even thought that he wouldn't do anything to me because I wasn't as pretty as everyone else here. I'd actually thought that!
Mom sat me on the couch, sandwiching me between Ibby and herself. “Tia, I'm not mad at you. We planned for this, remember? We had a plan in case this happened.”
Bolus spoke, earning a hard stare from my Mom that I saw through my veil of tears. “I was that plan. Medicine is in the bag, calibrated to her weight and biology.”
Mom's tone was frosty. “And just what do you think you were doing, a grown man, touching a young girl like that?”
Bolus passed a medicine bottle to Ibby, then raised his hands again. “Trying to keep the situation under control and wait for the cavalry. I couldn't very well hold her down, or I'd look like the worst kind of guy, I couldn't explain the situation to her,” I heard the implicated 'cause I didn't want her flying apart on me' there.' “And I didn't want her getting any bright ideas. Luckily she didn't, so I was keeping her there and calm until you arrived.”
Mom gave him the fish-eye while Ibby opened the bottle and slapped a pill into my palm. It was innocent enough, pure white with the number 11 stamped on it. It was small enough, so I swallowed it dry.
Felicity spoke, reminding us all she was there. “It happened exactly as Bolus said; he was a perfect gentleman.”
Mom nodded and let it go while Ibby snuggled up to the man. Had I looked like that, not five minutes ago?
“Alright, you're off the hook, for now.”
Ibby grinned at Mom and patted Bolus on the cheek. “Don't worry Strella, he's mine and he knows it.”
Just more evidence that Ibby was off, really. She hadn't read the mood right at all. And I was joining her there, if I hadn't already. Maybe my pills would be more effective than hers?
Bolus snagged Ibby's hand and turned to me. “Once a day, every day. It doesn't matter when you take them, but try to make sure no more than 24 hours pass. There shouldn't be any side effects, if there are, call me. Alright?”
I nodded. “I'm sorry, sir, for what I did.”
He shrugged. “I've been placed in worse spots, kid. I've been Ibby's friend a long time.”
Ibby pouted; he didn't buy it. I didn't either. “Mom, I'd really like to go home now.”
Mom sighed. “We can't yet. Mr. Hefner is still looking for a signature, and you WILL read the contract first. We can go home after that.”
Well, the sooner we got it done, the sooner I could go home. I stood up. Mom shook her head, stood up, and led me into the bathroom. Having Mom in the bathroom with me felt all kinds of weird; just us girls, though, I guess.
“Wash those tears away.” She suited her own actions to her words.
I scrubbed and primped until she was satisfied, and we both went back out, appearing in control if not feeling it.
Hugh put a smile on as he saw us, it looked genuine, as had the look of concern he'd wore just before; he probably already knew what happened.
He didn't say anything about it. “Tia, Estrella. I was beginning to worry a bit, but no one was screaming.”
Mom gave a ghost of a smile. “No, nothing bad. We just had a minor problem, easily corrected.”
The pill bottle in my pants seemed to burn.
“Tia's here to read what we came up with.”
I knew a hint when I heard one. Pulled the tablet over and read the document.
It was almost exactly as explained; The contract stipulated that any modeling was optional. If I did model in the next 2 years, any form of it, Playboy got first crack at any images or film. Only after the company said no would anyone else be allowed to pick it up. If another company wanted me to model for them, they had to work through Playboy.
Mom had managed to talk Hugh up to 250k though. A year. That was nice. On top of all the perks mentioned before of course.
It was stipulated several times that I had the right to refuse any modeling work I wasn't comfortable with. It all looked in order, so I printed it out on the mobile printer and signed both copies.
“I'm sorry, sir... er, Hugh. I'm not feeling well. I'd like to go home.”
Hugh looked up from where he was carefully adding his own signature. Yeah, he knew. “That's quite alright, Tia. Feel better, and feel free to call, for any reason.”
“Thank you.” I waved and said goodbyes to everyone close enough while we headed around the side to where the cars were parked. Mom carefully put the contract away in a file folder she got from somewhere.
Ibby was leaning against her car with Bolus, waiting for us. “I'll take her back, Strella. You take Bolus for me, okay?”
I shuffled from foot to foot while Mom stared at Ibby. “Fine. See you at home, honey.”
she pulled me into a quick hug and got in our car, Bolus gulped and followed... though he got in the back, out of reach. That was kind of amusing.
“Come on.” Ibby tossed me the keys. “You're driving.”
“You sure?” Pink or not, her car was a classic, and therefore expensive.
“Positive.”
I shrugged, adjusted everything and set off, following Mom home. After a few minutes of silence, Ibby had had enough.
“It isn't that bad, you know. Being like me that is.”
I gripped the wheel harder but stayed silent. What could I even say?
What she blurted out next was even worse. “I was lonely. I've spent a long time as a hero and ex-hero; my name and where I live is public record, my face is known, and it makes it hard to get close to people. I just wanted to be able to blend in for awhile, to really get to know people without holding them at arm's length.
Then you got zapped and it was my fault, at least in part. But I had someone I could truly be myself around, someone who understood what it was like to be me, at least a little. Hounded wherever you go by people who wanted something from you, or wanted to say they knew you never able to hide. And as guilty as I felt, I loved it, you know?
And you, you're a good kid. I can't have any, but if I could I'd have wanted them to be like you. I wanted to help you. I just can't leave you alone. And now you're more like me than ever, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry it distresses you. Fuck, I don't know how to say this, kid.”
Then she looked over. “Hey! Eyes on the road!”
I couldn't help it. I giggled... then laughed. She laughed along after a moment, and the mood was broken.
I couldn't blame her; it was Jamie's fault, not hers.
“So kid, your driver's test is coming up; given a thought about what kind of car you want?”
Ibby's attempts to change the subject sucked, but I let her. “I was thinking something like an old carrera or boxter. I really like porsches, but it's kind of up to Mom.”
Ibby grinned, lifting her eyebrows. “Really? Not something like mine? This car is pretty good, go ahead and open her up.”
She was trying to get us pulled over. “No thanks, and your car is a little too pink for me. Besides, something electric might be the way to go anyway, with the way things are going.”
Ibby muttered something I didn't catch over the wind about the color pink; she was probably agreeing with me. "By the way, remember what I said earlier about digits? She shoved her phone in my pocket. "Keep it, I got a new one, and that one is pretty secure and hard to find. When you pick up, you won't have to worry about someone you don't know saying hello."
******
“And that's basically it. I had to take my driver's test twice because people raised a stink about me having one when reports of my memory loss surfaced. I spent the rest of the summer getting checked periodically and relearning my languages. The final straw on where to go for school was when I found Rex outside my house in a bush with binoculars.”
The airplane was landing, tray tables and seat backs were up, all electronic devices were off, so I was trying to rush things a little. The stewardess had asked about my clips, but I knew they wouldn't cause interference and she didn't press.
“Let's see, what else. I never did get a car; I was always too busy to shop for one. Maybe next time I'm home. That's basically it.”
Paul smiled; it was a beautiful smile, really. “That's fine. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.”
We chatted about lighter subjects while the plane ambled down the tarmac to the gate.
******
He waited patiently with her while everyone else disembarked. He said all the right things, made all the right movements, at all the right times. She left trusting him. He hoped it helped her, to open up like that. It was said confession was good for the soul. she had been too close near the end, the rambling a clue to ease off, just a bit.
The airport closing hampered the plan somewhat; it irritated. He could get through it all, but it might leave a trail for those knowing what to look for. He found the old payphones and punched in the number. It was answered immediately.
“It's me. Your hunch was right; we can use her. Play it right and there could be repeats.”
He hung up and wished the bunny girl luck. She would need it, her school life was about to get very interesting.