Chapter #90The New You by: Seuzz   You are feeling faint and ragged long before you're finished, but you press on grimly. It's much more exhausting this time around, for you can feel the changes upon yourself as you work. You have no new memories, but you feel yourself wrenched and bent about as you work. Snip. Snap. The connections go on. It's like clicking millions of fasteners into place as you attach a living spirit to the dead physical form of Will Prescott.
The dead form of "Rosalie Martin." That will be your new name. You hope you remember to respond to it and not to "Will Prescott" when your classmates shout out your name.
Bit by bit you work, slowing down as you approach the end. But there is no end, not really. Mental imago can always be attached more closely, more securely to physical imago. You test it for tightness, for snugness, and continue working long after you feel like it's secure. But this is you you're working on, and you want no errors, no unravelings.
But finally your strength fails, and everything goes dark as the image flees from you.
* * * * *
Constellations appear before you. But you retreat from them. Numbly you feel your hand brushing over your face, and you sit up with a deep breath. A thrill passes through you.
You don't feel tired, just worked over. But Gillian has swooned into Andrea's embrace. The latter does a double take as she looks over at you. "What happened?" she asks. "Something went wrong?"
"No, everything went right. I think I'm done. Why?"
Andrea's mouth falls open. "So fast? That was, like, five seconds!"
You blink back dumbly at her. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! You'd just grabbed onto the golems, and then you fell over. I didn't even have a chance to prop you up like I'd been doing earlier!"
Your head swims in sympathetic panic with Andrea's own. Tentatively, you feel at your mind. There's nothing there but your own memories, of course. And yet--
You sit up more straightly and hug yourself. Your body feels natural, not vaguely alien, as it had felt before. You look down at your jeans. Oh, those are wrong, you think. Skinny jeans are all wrong. A long skirt and some stockings-- Hair falls in your face, and without thinking you pull it back and twist it into a loose braid. You look at your hands. Bracelets, that's what you need. Those cheap rings that Chelsea had picked out--
"Stop scoping yourself out," Andrea snaps. "What happened?"
"I told you, everything went right. I can feel it. I'm--" You swallow, and the gurgle turns into a giggle. "I'm Rosalie Martin now."
"But Joe--"
"Is he alright?" You scramble over and help her prop Gillian up. Her breathing is ragged, and her face is pale and beaded with sweat.
"I can't tell. We should get him out of this mask."
"But it's Hagerman under there. If he busts out in Gillian's things--"
Andrea cradles her more tightly and strokes her face. "I think he's okay," she mutters. "It's hard for me to tell through the mask, but I think he's just drained."
"You can fix that, right?"
"I mean, he's really drained. Go get us some food. Carbs, protein, power drinks. For him and for me." She bends over him as you jog from the room.
* * * * *
Joe looks healthier when you get back five minutes later. He's sitting up, and he and Andrea are embracing tightly. "Oh, stars, I'll take that stuff," he gasps as you dump out a bag full of food.
"I'm sorry, Joe," you say. "It didn't happen this badly when I used Chelsea."
"Chelsea hasn't got what I've got," he laughs weakly. "Didn't you do it on purpose?"
"Do what?"
"Use my Viritrilbia. Andrea says you got it done in five seconds. That was my super speed you tapped into."
"Oh my God!" You snap your fingers. "I forgot! And I didn't mean to--! I guess I was just thinking that I needed to get things done in a hurry!"
"Well, you did it in record time." He stuffs three frankfurters into his pert, girlish mouth. "I could drain Aparijita, and I'd still need a small pantry to recharge."
So he eats while Andrea continues to cradle him. Much of his strength returns, but he's still pale and wobbly when he finally gets to his feet. "Braydon's gonna wonder what I got up to," he says. "I think I'll have to blame it on your weird vegetarian crap, Andrea."
"I can drive you to where you need to go," she says. "As long as you can give me a ride back to my place."
"I'll be fine. Christian doesn't live far from you, and Braydon can take the wheel when we leave there." He's not so exhausted that there's no gleam in his eye when he looks over at you. "So the operation was a success?" he asks.
You nod. "I'm feeling a lot better about looking like this," you say. "I'll have to let my instincts guide me at school tomorrow."
"So you're going to show up?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"You were sounding kind of uncertain earlier."
A flare of impatience shoots up inside you. "I'll be fine, Joe. You don't have to look out for me. Or do, tomorrow. I'm not afraid of making a splash."
The others cock their eyebrows almost simultaneously. "I wonder which of the girls that was," Joe muses.
You frown. That was a spikier response than you'd normally make, and you find yourself wondering why you were feeling so shy before. Your lips twitch. Maybe it's the Amanda influence. Or the Andrea influence. Both? It doesn't matter. You've no impressions of the girls you'd used in fashioning this persona. This is you now, and it feels very natural.
But down inside yourself you can still feel the original Will Prescott. "Rosalie Martin" is just an assumed identity, just as the other disguises you've donned. But it feels more like "you" than the others had.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," you say aloud. You cock your head, and impulsively reach out to twitch Gillian's hair from her ear. You regard her thoughtfully, and then turn the same penetrating eye on Andrea. "Yeah, I'll see you guys. I wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with you."
"Gee, thanks," Andrea mutters. "Come on, Gillian." The two totter away.
* * * * *
With brisk confidence you stride back to Jonathan's apartments. Maybe the golem can sense the change in you, for he looks up with slightly more interest from his homework when you appear in the doorway to the dining nook. "You want something?" he asks guardedly.
You chew on the inside of your cheek. He's awfully good-looking. And rich. Monique doesn't deserve him. He needs a challenge. Kelsey Blankenship would be a challenge. So would Andrea. You'd be a better one. You could keep him on his toes. "Yeah, I want your pajamas," you reply after a long pause. "You can sleep in your underwear. Or not even them, if you want."
He shrugs, but continues to eye you as you turn away. Upstairs, you pull his PJs from the dresser and change into them. They are very big, but you like the feel. You also unpack the clothes you and Chelsea had bought. Most of them will work, but Chelsea was going for a more bohemian look than you want now. If you're going to dress down, you'll look good while doing so. The pity is that you're so skinny; it's a good thing it's winter. You should do some exercises, try to bulk up a little, so you can look good in shorts and tops. You feel a pang of jealousy at how good Andrea looks in a swimsuit.
You haul your wardrobe for the morning down into the living room, then plop onto the couch and turn on the TV. You mildly surprise yourself when a home refurbishing show catches your attention, but you don't fight it, and are soon completely absorbed in it.
It's in this attitude--sitting cross-legged on the sofa--that Jonathan finds you when he comes in from the other room. "Is this going to be a permanent thing? You in my PJs, in my place, in my sleeping bag?"
"No. I'm moving out this week. You'll have it back, can start bringing Monique back over. Unless you want to trade up." You look up at him. "You wanna trade up, Jonathan?"
"I like Monique," he says stiffly.
"I know you do. You also like your car. But you take others for test drives, don't you?"
He stares at you a minute, then slowly comes over and sits next to you. Cautiously, he reaches up to stroke your hair. You don't respond, nor do you respond when he reaches over to rest a hand on your breast. "Is this what you had in mind?" he asks.
"No. I had something more in mind. I'm not going to school a virgin tomorrow."
* * * * *
And it's not as a virgin, but as a thrice-ravished initiate into the joys of sex that you get out of Jonathan's car in front of Westside in the morning. You don't look back as he drives off, and ignore the looks from various students as you stare at the main building. This is the first day of the rest of your new life.
But you've got allies, already. And as you glance slowly around you see two of them waiting for you out front. Chelsea Cooper is standing in a small knot with some of her cheerleader friends. Well, it looks like Chelsea. It's probably just the golem, but you'd guess that she's back to being herself for your debut. On the opposite side of the quad is Gillian Kiefer, lounging and laughing with Braydon and Christian and Darrell Parson. It disconcerts you a bit to see that Caleb--your old friend--is there too.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author