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Drawn In

Part 2

I didn't have a car, yet. But I had plans. Summer plans which were closer to vague notions and hopes that I might find something. The family car was good enough that I felt confident when I actually managed to get some time to drive it.

Crossing her legs, Candace folded her arms and firmly booted the glove compartment till I'd pulled out of the driveway. She fiddled with her purse and hip pack all the way. I unwillingly learned from Candace, over one of her prolonged monologues, that makeup took a while to catch up with converted people. Normal tones were like applying a spray can. Since colors could vary so much, the business of custom makeup took off. I honestly couldn't tell the difference from her regular, simple tone with or without it but if it made her feel better, I wasn't about to invite an argument.

The drive was long enough that I started to tap my foot too. At one of the main intersections, Candace asked me what I'd asked myself so many times before, "Do you think it'll hit you too?"

She didn't need to explain further. Going from odds and if there was fairness in the world then I'd probably be one of the last ones "hit". I didn't buy those people who said hanging around the converted changed you faster.

And it was proven by a noted scientist who put himself in direct contact with the converted every day. As soon as he let go. he reverted and, despite endless hours and days of direct exposure, he was still the same. Of course, then some people took this to mean that touching a converted was like an inoculation.

After finding a good spot on the packed first level of the mall parking garage, Candace hurried into one of the big department stores. I had to hustle to keep up and she groaned that I wasn't faster.

Most stores had display areas dedicated to more colorful products and clothing. Some still had rules that converted people were not allowed to actually handle certain products long enough for their influence to spread. Most of it was going away but one remnant was that certain clothes were advertised brighter so converted people could see what they might look like if worn, which was still ridiculous.

Just looking around the store, I didn't see anyone else like my sister. But she rarely turned heads anymore. Usually, just young children would stare and try to grab at her clothes before their parents yanked them away with horrified grimaces.

The interior of the mall itself wasn't anything special, which I heard from Candace all the time. Of course, there was a much nicer, outdoor mall about thirty miles away in the next large city south of us. I liked our mall though. It had used furniture places and small arcades, watch repair shops and big shoe surplus stores.

I was starting to get winded but I kept pace with Candace till she met up with her friend at the second intersection. They gave each other a big hug. She introduced herself to me as Allison. She was taller than Candace and looked a little more mature but that could've been due to her conversion. She had thicker lines around her body than my sister, though not as thick as mom's and her skin tone was closer to a smooth bisque which shaded nicely with the noonday light through the atrium above

She had on a flowing, sea-pattern dress with crests and waves like something out of a painting. Her hair was past her shoulder and black aside from a reddish tint at the ends. Her eyes were "anime" big (although the word 'anime' had acquired dozens of interpretations, I still went with my pre-conversion era sense of it) with a dusty-red tone. I winced for her when remembering old stories on the news of converted kids who were beaten when they woke up with bright-red "devil eyes".

They chatted a bit as I gazed around the mall. The occasional person glanced towards Allison and Candace but that was about it. I was looking for other converts. Candace poked me on the shoulder and narrowed an eye at me.

I knew the plan. I could roam so long as I kept my cell phone on at all times and didn't tell our parents that I wasn't supervising every moment. I was fine with not spending the whole afternoon bored and camped out at every teen clothing store that caught Candace's interest. Plus, I figured she wanted time to flirt with the "new boy" she mentioned.

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For me, I was headed for one of the "odd gifts" stores nearby. They had massaging chairs, which would be great for the crick I still had in my neck from sleeping awkwardly overnight. From there, I glanced over the sports store out of sheer, random curiosity. While there, I noticed one of the clerks was animated. She had on a soccer jersey which complimented her style, which was somewhere between Candace's and Allison's. She had smaller eyes but simple shades of soft yellow hair in a ponytail and Allison's body tone. She was also pretty cute.

I hung out a while and tried to think of reasons to ask her for help in getting something. But there really wasn't anything I wanted. But she was still really cute and might want to hang out. Candace treated it like I'd become a monk lately but I really did want a girlfriend. Her idea of trying to get one for me involved me hanging around the stores she liked while she muttered suggestive things and giggled.

Eventually, the clerk vanished in the backroom before I could come up with something interesting to say or do. The head clerk eyed me a little like I was taking up valuable floor space. I moved on.

The gadget stores just made me look longingly, so I wound up at the newsstand/bookstore. They served great orange-flavored drinks next door. I bought one.

Sipping softly, I sifted through some magazines and considered the music store or the trendy graphic t-shirt shop. I would definitely be able to burn some time at the former listening to samples, which I could probably get in full for free online. However, it was on the far side of the mall. Trendy Ts was close but it was quite a bit smaller and I never wound up buying anything there. But there tended to be a lot of girls willing to strike up a conversation about anything. One I remembered wore special makeup to make herself look more like a converted. Worth checking out. Maybe they even had some fun new shirts.

The store was busy like usual. The highlight was a converted girl, about my age, wearing black. Her eyes were traced like an Egyptian fresco and she had an ankh around her neck. Her style was more indie comic book with odd proportions which exaggerated but complimented her legs and hips. She had lips I knew were intentionally black-traced and a textured, curved helmet of brown hair. She was hot and she looked to be alone, sifting through some purse decorations.

I figured I might be able to position myself nearby and mention something cool. There were chokers. I diverted over to the shirts. I noticed they had a few "convert" pride ones. Terms ranged from "colorfuls" to "animated" to "anime" to "toon/ed". I often just said, "converted".

Looking at some really colorful ones, I noticed one in particular and raised an eyebrow. It was related to a well-known animated show with an animal cast. The shirt was admittedly a bit cooler looking than most.

There had been some rare converts who wound up similar to that show's characters with four legs and a bright color scheme. They'd been in a study by scientists curious if the conversion was ever unwilling. Me, I didn't want to be an animated puppy or pony or dragon or whatever.

Most of them tended to be form-shifters though, so at least they weren't stuck looking like strange animals for the rest of their lives with no way to care for themselves. Putting one of the sample shirts back, I rubbed at my wrist. Behind me, I heard a breathy voice ask, "Hey, can you get that for me?"

Turning around, I was face to face with the animated goth girl. She pointed with a black-pen-traced finger at something right above me. I reached up and took down a key chain in a box with undead Hello Kitty imagery. I smiled quickly and passed it over. She gave a little smile back and looked down. Then she frowned.

She cleared her throat and pointed to my wrist. I looked at it. It seemed fine. Except for a little patch on the back which looked painted in a pale, simple color. My heart thundered in my ears. She looked up at me, as though about to say something, but pressed her lips together and turned away.