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Chapter 6 - Please Tell Me More

Wes jotted something down and hugged his backpack to himself. I watched him for changes. Then, I checked on Heather. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like her hair, always dyed a soft, chestnut color like wood grain with intricate lines and streaks, was slightly longer than it had been a few minutes ago. She tugged at her lavender top to straighten its wrinkles.

I edged over to the trash can on the end and poked a finger into my backpack like I was going to throw something away. Heather gave me a look and raised her decorated finger when the teacher called out from far away to say, “Computer Lab today.”

About every month we had something to do in the Computer Lab, which had been moved around twice since freshman year. It was currently at the far end of the library. But the teacher usually mentioned something about it beforehand or put it on the monthly schedule on the wall.

I didn’t get too close to him. He had a full, bare face. It always looked light pink like he’d just got done yelling at the top of his lungs. His dark hair curled high on his forehead but hung limp around the sides of his face.

Before we could get going to the Computer Lab, he made us get into two orderly lines. He held up his fingers a few times. He would start speaking and then catch someone’s words on the wind and say a half-hearted “shh” as he always did. He had a quiet nature, too quiet. He never really raised his voice, but he never commanded a room either.

Somehow, we managed to get to the Computer Lab even with him stopping several times to reissue his commands and empty warnings. Computers were assigned by the librarian who worked off to the side on her own computer.

This was before online connections were worth bothering with. Pixelated images trickled in as you waited. Even then, you were limited to the most basic of sites that the outdated school computers could handle. Most work was done with the programs already installed.

To my surprise, I was seated alone at the furthest end of the room. Heather gave a frown and a lean in my direction. The teacher came over and crouched beside me. Straightening his glasses, he asked, “Mister Bledsoe told me something happened last period. Is there anything I should know about?”

I didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by him but there was still a nervous feeling in my stomach as I searched for the right words. I collected my thoughts and said, as calmly as I could, “I don’t know. These two guys in class were having…umm…health issues, I guess. They had to use the restroom and Sophia Velacruz and I kinda stayed with them. To help. But the bell rang, so I didn’t see what happened after.”

He gave a nervous little nod and answered, “Alright.” He looked uncertain. My blond friend from Biology had this class for only the first week before he transferred out due to issues with his schedule and band practice. I typically didn’t get to talk with him till around lunchtime. No one in my English class had the same biology class I did.

I was left isolated while the teacher went to make some calls on the phone by the front desk. I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson. It was some practice program for MLA formatting. I already knew it well, but I went through the instructions without complaint.

Wes and Heather gave me curious looks, but I was mostly left alone. I settled as comfortably as I could into my plastic chair with my hands over the weird-shaped keyboard. I crossed one leg over the other and stared ahead at the screen.

“Pssst…”

It was Heather. She had her eyes wide when I looked back. I grimaced and shrugged. I imagined sending her a note in the form of a little paper airplane, but I knew that wouldn’t be possible with my lousy arm strength and wretched folding ability.

The librarian watched us much better than that teacher ever did. I wouldn’t be able to get up until I was done with the lesson. Fortunately, there was a part which required finding a book related to some larger project or paper we were working on tangentially related to our assignment…which still hadn’t been asked for, even though the teacher said last Friday it would be due at the beginning of class.

I rushed through the computer portion of the assignment and got up to do the next part. Heather finished soon after me and we both crept over to a secluded section of shelves. She breathlessly asked me, “What’s going on?”

My shoulders dipped, and I brushed back my hair. I leaned against the nearest shelf and told her, “Some weird stuff happened last period at my group’s table. Do you know Salvador Diaz or Ramirez Ramos?”

She arched her thin eyebrows and gave a slight frown. After a pause, she repeated the names. I offered quick descriptions of them, but she shook her head. With a wave my hand, I continued, “Never mind. The point is they got transformed…into girls.”

My voice dropped even lower than the library whisper it had been a moment before. Heather narrowed her eyes skeptically and leaned closer to me.

I repeated, “Into girls.”

Her lips flared up like a laugh was about to burst through her, but she watched my face and muttered, “Okay…wow. Umm. Yeah, that’s weird. Also… that’s not possible…Are you sure?”

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I assured her quietly that I’d seen it all happen. I also added, “And Sophia, who sits right next to me, changed a little too. Longer hair and nails.”

Heather pressed her lips together and leaned against a different bookshelf. “So, like, are they quarantining you or them or what?”

Glancing around the corner, I saw the librarian still at her computer and the teacher still over by the phone. I rubbed my eyes behind my glasses and answered, “I dunno. I just…I dunno. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe something happened in the room. I think I’m okay.”

She looked me over calmly and asked some basic health questions. My stomach still felt a little disturbed but that was really all I could report. All she could do was shrug along with me.

I kept an eye on her for changes as we roamed the aisle. A new bestseller entitled Abby Longbloom and the Philosophical Boulder poked out at the end of a shelf. It was more a middle school book than a high school one, but it was supposed to be popular. It was somewhere on my to-read list, but everyone told me it was overrated and by some hack writer.

My attention could only stay on-edge for so long before it roamed to the various books. I honestly had no idea what I was looking for and these books smelled like they’d not only never been moved but that they’d been dropped in a lake and then left to dry on their own. I cracked my neck and glanced at Heather.

Something had changed. It took me a moment to realize the little acne scar on the side of her cheek she had from a terrible flare-up last year was gone. Her whole face looked softer from when I’d talked to her by the classroom door. Not that it looked rough before, but it had imperfections. They’d been smoothed away. I swallowed whatever spit was in my throat.

It took a quick and quiet moment of courage, but I said her name softly and gestured to her face.

“What? Is there something on me?”

I grimaced in response. With a frown, she reached into her purse for a mirror and checked the side of her face. She was about to say something when she noticed just what I’d noticed. She looked over at me with widened eyes as I nodded. Still a little skeptical, she stepped over to a part of the library with better light. A classmate I didn’t know stared at us like we were crazy.

After a long inspection, Heather retreated to the aisle and shook her head as she muttered, “What? I mean…what? It…I…It’s gotta be my makeup.”

I’d thought about it too, but I told her I’d seen it just a few minutes ago. She put her mirror away and took a deep breath as she said, “Well…umm…wait. I’m not turning into a boy, right?”

I reiterated that Sophia didn’t, but I really had no idea. She released her breath and looked at me. “So, it’s you? You’re what’s causing it?”

“I guess so”, was all I admitted.

Stretching a finger out, Heather poked me on the shoulder once and then looked at the tip of her finger. The design on her nails hadn’t changed and they didn’t seem longer. She tried the other shoulder with the same finger and wiggled it around. She pulled her finger back and told me, “Sorry. I’m not sure what to think.”

That summed up my feelings as well. But it felt good to get it out to another person. Heather wasn’t someone I told all my deepest secrets to. I didn’t have anyone like that. Not anymore. But she got the closest.

I added quickly, “It seemed…when people weren’t around me, that the changes went away.”

She cocked her head, and I did my best to give a clear version of what happened. Heather focused on the end part with the bathroom and asked, “Why did you stay around so long?”

“I didn’t know if it was because of me. I just wanted to help. And understand what was going on. I thought I might’ve been changing too and maybe I didn’t see it.”

Heather frowned but didn’t press me further about it. She took a step back and asked, “So, about how far away?”

Sal had been the furthest from me. No more than six or seven feet. But the nearest table could’ve been closer to ten. I wasn’t sure. Putting her feet side by side, Heather counted out quietly and then took an extra step back. I stood there for a quiet minute as I scanned the books in front of me. Just history works.

I stayed where I was and waited. Soon, I heard Heather take out her mirror again. In a whisper I could barely hear, she told me, “It’s back.”

Keeping my distance, I saw as she turned her cheek. The distinctive acne scar had returned to her face, like a little divot accentuated when she smiled. She curled her lips back and remarked, “That’s…freaky.”

Turning away from her, I crept down the aisle. To my surprise, she followed me and stood much closer than the range we’d just tested. She wore a quick, faint smile as she added, “But it’s kinda cool. Just gotta keep you away from the guys until it wears off or something.”

Softly, I told her, “Thank you” as I reached out for her hand. She clasped mine and said, “No prob.”

Inside me, I could imagine that desolate starship-like bridge where my mind had fought a futile battle against itself. I could imagine the darkness and destruction cleared away for a bright, happy future full of lovely thoughts.

Oh, how naïve I was...

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist