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Chapter 69 - Nice

It's sometimes hard to express the right reaction to a statement that demands an unmistakable, pointed response. The flash of the moment is likely anger, with a simple, "What the fuck?!" Or a fuming but measured, "Why did you do that?" leading to a proper browbeating.

A sharp wording may not coalesce till later as the blinding heat of processing an absolute, vain betrayal has cooled to something that can be mentally pounded into the best words. Mom's tongue could fling molten waves, like an artist at inflicting suffering. For me, even years in static reflection might not be enough to express what I really wanted to say.

Now, if I were in charge, 1998 Kenzie's eyes would flare with untempered rage. She would bring her backpack around to strike Kats right in the face. The weight of the bag would instantly peel the bitch like taffy as her bouncing head witnessed an impromptu decorative fountain gushing from her neck.

From there, pretty much everyone would stop and stare in stunned silence and, at this point, she could recite some badass, epic line from an action movie which distilled down to, "Anyone else want to screw with my life?!"

In the realm of realism, she would just give Kats a concussion, assuming she could bring the weight of all those textbooks around and not injure herself first. But that was still too optimistic.

That Kenzie isn't her mom or a violent badass or anything I might daydream about in retrospect. Sure, she held serve with Nats a few times, but don't mistake that for consistent resolve.

"No. My parents are mad." With tears in my eyes, I could've simply told her to leave me alone. But I didn't want that. Why would I tell someone that, when I was so desperate for the least ember of human contact?

"*Tsk*, whatever. Forget about them. You'll be so famous. Sit with me and I'll tell you all about what she does. She also totally knows this agent they're gonna make a movie about."

If only decapitation was on the table. Last week, I might've passively indulged her but, call it mom's words worming into my brain or some measure of Callie whispering over my shoulder or just feeling done with Kats. I told her, "I gotta talk to Bledsoe." Nothing bold, but it got her to leave me alone.

This shit would get worse with years, after the fallout of my life had burned my free moments to mind-numbing Geiger-static. Everyone at that age wanted something from me and I tried my best to be nice.

Need a ride to North Langers, even though I'm still a learner who just got a car, which I bumped into some mom's SUV and did more damage to my bumper than anything else? Go ahead and dog and guilt me about how far you need to walk, all while getting a free, temporary beautification.

I chauffeured two non-paying obligations from being too nice for weeks. Kenny even took advantage of it, though he squeezed into the distant, right edge of the back seat, to be as far from my influence as possible.

Don't consider these spoilers. Kenny was never going to end up with permanent breasts. His sister would've somehow drawn my energy out like venom from a bite. This is just a reminder and an admonishment not to be such a kind fool. You only wind up with pain and guilt, all alone even though everyone owes you.

Inside Bledsoe's office, also known as the closet of remnants for all the science departments, he stood there with Ben nearby. It barely felt like a needle-prick when Ben saw me approaching and took a full step back. Bledsoe acknowledged me in silence, with a tilt of his head, before resuming their conversation.

I had enough to convert Ben right there and then. Plenty of misplaced anger, from the accusations of a bitter phantasm of Wes, a bitter mom, and a bitter chick dangling onto the remains of her boyfriend, could be directed at him. Toss in fuming about Kat's selfish betrayal, and I was sure to nuke Ben's balls in record time.

But he'd only been afraid of me. His general avoidance and silence, with just a weekend well wish, could come from personal stuff I couldn't possibly imagine or blame him for. Still, he'd made a cute girl in our little test.

I could envision, like a ghost reality, a glimpse of Ben's bowl of soft brown hair flowing long over his back. His freckles would overpower his soft cheeks and his slender arms would dangle in his green scrub sleeves as a tide of cuffs overwhelmed his sneakers as he slipped out of them.

The drawstring waist would teeter perilously above his broad hips and "cute" butt, as Rebecca had so deemed it. Maybe I could junk up that trunk a little further. And I could definitely give Rebecca's size a challenge. Lea and temp-girl Ben ranged towards underwhelming molds of me, in that respect. I could do better.

But I didn't want to do that to him. He'd been so nervous and fearful despite his curiosity. Though, what if that curiosity actually represented something bigger, waiting to hatch? Something that maybe he didn't even know but which would turn out good in the end, just like Lea?

Fighting with myself about this was like fighting with the tide not to come in. Like keeping a vampire out of a blood bank. Like telling myself not to breathe. Something had to give eventually.

I could burn it off on some girl but just guys were around. Holding my breath, I turned to the right and focused a beam of energy on the first object I saw. In a cabinet, beneath protected glass, was a silvery, opened geode.

Screaming silently with what felt like a wave rushing out of me, I could imagine a twisting band of light, star plasma with an unmistakable greenish hue, in the form of a barely-contained jet. Blazing, crackling yarn latching onto the rock in the cabinet and nothing else. A focused, monstrous line of energy, similar to what I'd wielded on Lea. A purge of everything contained inside me, so it didn't hurt anyone else.

When it finally felt like my visualization was exhausted to the last string of light, I released it and let all thoughts fall away. Sure, Lea's creation hadn't been as extravagant and she noted I was wasting it when I last tried to burn through everything I had...well then I wanted to waste it, so I could sit around others and not kindle fear or harm them.

My chest hurt at the end like I'd been holding my breath for a long time. I saw bright flares like when I clutched my eyes closed too tightly. When they went away, the rock behind the glass actually had a puzzling, emerald tint to it, an iridescence similar to a subtle shade of glow-in-the-dark paint.

At least, I thought that was the case. Just as easily, I could've bent forward without realizing it and the rock just happened to catch the reflection of something across from it. Before I could pursue this thought, Bledsoe called out to me, "Good morning, Miss Waller. Are we going to have a good day today?"

I had no idea how to take that question. Did he know about the news? His expression was inscrutable, as always. Ben, who had finished up his conversation with the teacher, drifted towards the far edge of the room in something resembling a casual but earnest crab-walk shuffle away from me.

It wasn't his question, although I fretted on it more than I should've. Nor was it Ben retreating as though I were a Leper. Kat's bullcrap didn't account for it either. Same with all the Natalie encounters and the chats with the unexplained. Instead, it was a point of pressure finally failing with one mote beyond its threshold.

I cried. It wasn't a bawling, wailing cry. Rather it felt like an allergy I knew well with my eyes trying to blink out something they couldn't reach. Like old, worn wipers in a sudden flurry. Pathetically, I managed, "I...don't know."

Instead of blubbering on incoherently with deep inhales and waves of scrambled words, I left it at that. Not missing a beat, Bledsoe handed me a box of tissue that somehow hadn't leeched up the noxious age and dust of the room. After a few long blows that just made me feel raw, he instead asked, "What is it?"

Leaning on a counter, I bent away from the dustiest cabinets and began, "I'm...it's been a rough couple...things have been rough lately. I want today to be good but Kats....thyrn, Kathryn from my group last week said she reported me to the news. And my parents are...putting pressure on me. And I feel like a hot potato."

Fighting my fear and beating heart, I felt an oasis where I didn't have to say any more with that last line. It was a mirage, but the moment comforted me. Settling in the silence after, I noticed Ben had kept a respectful distance from me but hadn't made a full retreat.

Clasping his hands across his spirit-colored tracksuit pants, Bledsoe relayed, "We had a morning meeting about questions from the local news. Mr. Aceves is dealing with that. Don't stress about it or any claims your classmates make. I will deal with those matters in class. Today, we have a new seating chart and it will be a good day. Alright?"

I realized from Bledsoe's attire that it had to be the sports theme today for Spirit Week. I didn't have anything at home that would count and wearing my gym clothes all day would've sucked. His words filtered into me like a wandering mist, glancing across my quivering skin but not sinking any deeper.

All that should've been enough to bring ease and comfort to my mind, but that wasn't the way my brain worked. Instead of a line leading me to the next thought clearly and rationally, I was a swirling scribble in the darkness, fighting for some direction as my core energy drained out of me more than any radiation. Stop being such a wreck!

Bledsoe seemed to notice my unease and posed, "What else?"

My natural inclination was to apologize and denounce anything was wrong. But something had fallen away, like an inebriation following my vomited energy. I spoke clearly, "I'm scared of you and he's scared of me." I gestured in turn to Bledsoe and Ben, then I held my breath.

Instantly, Bledsoe sat up with an expression I'd never seen on him before. The best way to describe it would be dumbstruck, as though, out of all the things I could've said, something in my statement startled him. A moment later, he gave a quick belly laugh, which Ben added a chuckle to.

"First off, Miss Waller...you think I'm scary?" He raised a gray, skeptical eyebrow and his mustache vibrated like someone was shaking out a duster. Ben kept away but added, with a laugh, "Big and scary, like a wolf."

Bledsoe flashed Ben a look but noted, "I have a serious, no-nonsense concern for our class. We have a lot of characters who need to know when it is time to work. And there are always challenges, but I assure you, Miss Waller, you have no reason to be scared of me unless you intend to cause trouble. Understood?"

It wasn't a kindly, smiling, soft heart-to-heart but it was about the closest I would get from Bledsoe. I understood, being a good kid with so many teachers in my life. Nodding, I took a deep breath.

He continued, looking at Ben before returning his attention to me, "Now, I can't say anything for Mister Thompson over there but we are all in a situation with many questions, concerns, and uncertainties. This isn't on you. This is on a tough situation and I promise to do my best for you and all of your classmates, and I expect the same in return. We will work this out."

In the back of my mind, I worried about our proximity. His mustache could begin thinning and his face softening at any moment. But it hadn't done that yet. 1998 Kenzie faintly, irrationally hoped that staring at a rock had solved her problems.

I'm too much in this, so I'll spare that Kenzie any more criticism for now as Bledsoe reiterated about the new seating chart. Ben eyeballed the open door back to the main classroom like it was a golden path to salvation but, for all his humor about the big bad mustachioed wolf, he was a TA and the son of a preacher lady and a teacher man, which meant he wasn't going to leave without at least a nod of consent from Bledsoe.

When the nod came, it wasn't for his freedom but to say something to me. He had to tighten his hands together before he could turn over his answer, "We talked on Thursday. I don't want trouble...for you or me. Like we kinda talked over. Things are crazy and busy. Just know...I'm cool...trying to be cool. I am cool. And everything will work out. Okay?"

I wasn't exactly sure what he had just said or meant to say but I gave a subtle, subdued nod that ended the conversation and Bledsoe finally permitted him to leave. As for me, I remained the little trinket in the closet, a scientific curiosity awaiting a proper moniker.

Kenzius Feminus...

Before too long, he summoned me forth. Kats had returned to her little, soon-to-be-broken domain. Despite her overtures to lure me in her direction for beautification, I stood over in the corner by a sink and a projector as Bledsoe ordered the room to their feet.

I must've missed the tardy bell at some point, probably over the honk of my nose blowing. The grumbles, complaints, and overall concerns about being reshuffled so early into the year were, unlike the responses to Chilton, perfunctory grumbling with no teeth or effort behind them. Whispers about me were common and easily blotted out. Sophia, Sal, and Ramirez had long ago replaced me with a chick who was better looking and more effortlessly charismatic than I could ever imagine approaching.

Well, they would all be reshuffled now. Cody got placed amongst a group of guys who looked like they were destined for the basketball team, if they weren't on it already. He laughed just as easily as when he got placed around swaths of girls. My old group was dispersed and Kats wound up at the front left of the room with only nearby fragments of her entourage and Dunk a turn behind her for giggles and playful slaps, which Bledsoe soon clamped down on.

My spot was the far right edge, basically where I started out, but on the opposite side of the four-seater station, pressed up against the cabinets. Though my glasses at the time were strong enough to the task, I was grateful not to have to squint at the dense markings on the board.

Bledsoe, no surprise, not only put three girls in my group but also made sure, in a seven-foot radius, there were no boys in any of the adjoining groups either. My new group wasn't bad. I recognized the trio as parts of teams Bledsoe coached.

The nearest one welcomed me with an energetic wave. She had on what looked like a polyester soccer outfit in the school colors. Her purple, overloaded backpack was moments away from creating a landslide into her sports bag. Each of the girls had a similar bag either at their feet or on the table.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Roosting stiffly on the edge of the open chair, I tried to keep a respectful distance from the other girls, but the one next to me wasn't having that. She urged me to scoot over and "settle in".

Doing so didn't make the world explode at least and I still had a safe clearance from the nearest boy. Unless something changed: a notion which ricocheted through my nervous brain but without persistence. The girl next to me introduced herself as Valerie. She gestured to the other table, and the girl across from me gave her name as Wendy with a shy wave. Next to her, as she dragged out a net full of assorted balls, the other girl eagerly stated her name was Reina.

Wiggling my fingers with little tremors, I greeted them each with a smile and a sound in my throat like that cartoon character whose catchphrase was something like, "Suffering succotash". Then a cough flopped its way through my lips. I battled against it, to meekly assert, "I'm Kenzie."

None of them laughed at me for my stumbles, they just eagerly repeated my name and started pulling out their textbooks. Valerie nudged hers delicately from the bottom of the landslide, as though trying to pull a Jenga piece out from the base. I almost offered to help but she got it before I could say anything.

Valerie reminded me of myself in challenging ways to put into words, which is brutal when all you have is writing. She was chubby, but that is a pitiful, useless word for her description. There are hundreds of versions of 'chubby'. Some are nice, some are rude, and some are so neutered and impotent they should run for Congress.

You could say she resembled an old, original Coke bottle with her pronounced dips and curves. But she also could be like a bulky Clydesdale horse amongst the lithe, lean pony shapes of the other two. She's so far in the past, yet still present, that calling her big or full-figured, or some fancy word Wes would spring on me, is lazy.

If I had a photo, I could just shove it in someone's face and they would still use a dozen different words for her than I might ever come up with. But these are my words for her.

Valerie looked how I felt and how I wanted to feel. She had glasses even wider than my thick monstrosities. Her stubby nails wore a glimmering, fresh coat of spirit tones gloss. Her hair, which rested in a wind-smacked, straight curtain, slipped between a rich, unassuming brown and darker tones, as though my flame-tangled locks had extinguished at the end of a wick.

She had only the hint of a belly beneath that top but it was toned, as though every time she leaned forward was a secret, subtle sit-up that shaved away a little more of her bulk. More than anything, she shined so radiantly in her own skin, at home in her body.

That's a lot of words for someone I just met but sitting next to a funhouse distortion and tint of myself who looked determined and peppy and joyful left me more confused than seeing and feeling a doppelganger next to me in bed. The nugget of an idea rattled around in my brain.

If someone could actually meet their other selves, their potential selves, who both achieved greater things and fumbled harder, would they be any closer to knowing themselves? The spider thread of an idea whispered and nagged me to explore it.

I still ignored it and focused on Wendy. Could I even come close to the breadth of words I'd heaped upon Valerie like the landslide of a bag she was tilting towards stability? Her green windbreaker hung open to reveal what at first I thought was a basketball top but thinking of Summer made me realize it had to be for cross-country.

Beneath the table and through the prison-like openings on the side, her legs stretched, seemingly without end. Some of the other girls in the room could be dwarfed just by those legs. It might be hyperbole to say she seemed like a giraffe or a gazelle folded into a seat and spot too small for them. But it was also wrong. She wasn't out of place. Nor did she appear awkward. Her black hair wrapped into a slim bun just past the crest of her head, like a feathery soda can.

That still felt like painting her picture in my level of stick-figure and puffball alien penciling. She had a doll-like, oval slope to her features that wove between intimidating and beautiful. But she didn't flash pristine ivory smiles like a beauty queen or some toy I dressed up as a kid. Instead, she looked concerned, almost pained, by the moment.

Her gaze danced around like a skittish fly, unsure whether it could ever land on anything. I returned her faint wave with a bigger, bolder one and she released a long, slow breath.

Reina, largely due to distance, was a bit harder to judge merely on what shallow physical attributes I could piece together into a meaningful impression. Her blond ponytail was so dark it almost looked like scorched silver. She was dressed in a similar soccer uniform to Valerie, but all the layers couldn't hide her buffness. What I could see of her arm muscles challenged some guys. And her middle surely had at least a six-pack.

She was more on the level of me and Valerie otherwise, even though I knew she could easily twist me in half like a glowing, green marshmallow if she wanted to. But the most curious detail I noticed was how she affectionately snuggled and caressed the broad bag of balls beside her. Waves of fingers stroked and squeezed the plush edges of a volleyball as she both peered directly at the object of her love and also gazed a million miles away.

It might seem like a waste to dwell so vigorously on three people I'd just met, but it was better than fretting on all the terrible things that might follow in a minute or an hour.

The others were quite together with getting out their notes and making sure everyone had the right page. Wendy sought to correct a few things wrong from an old handout.

And it wasn't long before we all realized it was the day of the unit quiz. Forgetting all minutia about the people around me, I frantically flipped back through the important stuff from the review I didn't pay much attention to due to the bullshit from Kats and her group. At least this group was immediately on the ball, as least as much as Reina was still all over those balls, reciting the key points and ideas to one another.

I just held on to that wave as they pushed through the key topics. That helped more than several hours of reflection. The test was a horror show, but I felt confident enough in at least a solid B. Valerie sifting through the questions afterwards tilted my confidence even higher. I contributed a few thoughts and the group listened to me without a fuss or needing to impress them.

Inevitably, after a lecture introducing the next topic and releasing us to work, Valerie spoke the question so many people probably had on their minds, "Everything alright, Kenzie?"

Alright. Are you okay? What's going on? How are you? And so on. Nice little innocent words for a mystery I just couldn't ignore. Out of the corner of my eye when we took the test and when the unit started, I checked on the three of them for subtle changes.

Valerie's lips seemed a little fuller but she hadn't gotten majorly prettier or thinner or different. Perhaps Wendy had a flare of silvery arm hair against the morning light streaming through the upper windows, but it could also be the way that light happened to catch her skin. No one's nails had changed color or lengthened and that was especially obvious when Reina squished what seemed to be her favorite volleyball between her fingers like a giant stress toy.

I had questions about what she was up to but Valerie's question came first. At this point, I should've been experienced in knowing what to say and what not to say in these sorts of situations, but each time felt like starting with a blank sheet and no idea how to make sense of it all for someone else.

Mom told me not to volunteer anything and the caged rebel inside me wanted to volunteer everything. Reflecting on my words, I started, "That's hard to say. Things have been crazy. What has ...Mr. Bledsoe told you and what have you heard?"

Since Kats started from a point of rumor I should've scaffolded onto, here was a chance to follow that thought. Valerie looked over at the others and began, "Well, I know about two guys in your group being sent out and having what seemed like health problems. Honestly, it looked like they were morphing into something or someone else. Like those books and that show, right Wendy?"

Wendy eagerly recited the name and dug one of the books from her backpack. It was basically humans turning into aliens or animals. All three of them had different levels of awareness about it.

As for what Bledsoe said, it wasn't a lot. Just the assurance they would be kept together and to make me feel welcome. Valerie checked with me if they were doing a good job. I nodded and shifted my hands around before explaining, "Thank you. And I don't know a whole lot more. No one does. But weird things supposedly happened like you said. Then some other people and stuff. Whatever it is, everyone in charge decided to put me with other girls or all by myself because they don't know what it is."

I left many openings for questions but Valerie scooted over and focused on, "All by yourself? How come?"

I shook my head. "Because maybe it's weird stuff because of me or around me or something but they think it's safer for me to be alone. Separated with just imaginary teammates in gym. Stuck in storage over there. My English teacher puts me in the corner of his desk. Math too. Just Mr. Castellanos for Spanish lets me rotate around." That wasn't fair, especially considering the efforts my teachers made, but it was still the truth.

Soon, Valerie had a hand on my shoulder and some nice, kind words for me and hope that I was doing better now. I dipped my head and admitted, "Some people have gotten mad at me, treated me like a freak, or wanted to use me. I just...I don't know what to do. I don't do anything. I just sit here and only think good things for others. Hope, help, love, and just....focus good energy. If that does anything."

Valerie had a gentle brush of religious thought. "Good focus always does good. There are forces we can't comprehend and powers greater than us. We shrug our shoulders and hope for the best. Bow a head, think of what we can do, and get it together."

With that, Valerie mentioned a little of her after-school prayer group. Cody was a part of it. I was vaguely aware of that. I also knew he liked to read some End of the World book series with about three installments at the time.

I never read it, but the covers looked alluringly creepy with mostly black. Religious talk was shaky stuff for me, but Valerie seemed really nice, along with the other girls. We chatted a bit about Cody, who wasn't too far away but at least out of earshot. Wendy played the flute and wanted to learn the clarinet. Reina seemed really knowledgeable about the names and exact sizes of all kinds of sports balls. No one else batted an eye.

Still only minimal changes. Valerie's clothes seemed a little looser around her waist. She didn't note any difference and I wasn't going to draw attention to it. On the other end, Wendy's jutting legs seemed a little fleshier than the first glimpse I'd had. Her traces of arm hair were also absolutely gone. Reina had nothing I could point to.

My heart stumbled a bit when Valerie noted, "I think I feel something from you about those good things you mentioned. I feel good around you, Kenzie. I feel the positive light of someone needing to be free. It warms me." While the other girls gave encouraging nods, they didn't note anything as distinctly as Valerie did.

The chats were nice. I didn't have to lead them, nor did I feel like others were controlling them. At some point, Valerie touched upon Cody again, remarking, "I kinda had...well I liked hanging out with Cody, but I soon got the sense he didn't. I worried it was me and how I used to be. Sports have been a godsend for me. I feel so much better, stronger, and more confident. You should try out for one of the teams. They're always looking for someone and you don't need to be a certain way or have a certain build, you just need to be willing to put the work in."

Her note about Cody sounded odd. I picked it up and her voice dropped so low that I wasn't sure even Reina or Wendy could hear us, as she elaborated, "Well, we met in line-dancing, you know. Before I got the confidence to go after sports."

Right. I mentioned that before. He takes line dancing, the gym option for girls and gay guys.

Frowning and pausing, I glanced over at Cody through the forest of folks in the way. He was giggling at something a girl from an adjacent table said, but his eyes were on the guy to his right. His hand limply dismissed a question. And there was something to his voice. Nowhere near Sebastian's lisp but a muffled, nasally and vaguely-androgynous tone. It had always been there.

He never hooked up with a girl or anyone. Didn't mean anything. But he also kissed me, a girl. And he'd also made woozy overtures towards Kenny. And he liked being a man, which also meant nothing.

It was a rumor from someone I just met a short time ago. And yet, it felt like an irregular puzzle piece finally slotting into place. Cody was gay.

This is where I would drop in some reveal music from a dragged out, icky horror movie series which wouldn't exist for six years so far as this moment was concerned. Not as though I haven't been anachronistic before. But the thought and possibility Cody might be gay dragged me through an undercurrent of emotions.

I casually liked him, and I appreciated the fact he wasn't paired up or even faintly romantic. A fellow lonely heart who might open up someday. It was a lot to process.

Maybe it wasn't a theoretical bombshell to some people and maybe it was bullshit. But I got Valerie's point and we gladly started discussing what sports might be friendly for me, as someone who hated them and dodged out of the way of incoming balls.

To that, Reina sat up and gave a Constitutional Congress level speech about the virtues of balls. Even if they smash hard in your face, take them, and embrace them and don't quiver in fear of them. Rooming with the controversial notions and hunches about Cody was far less of a leap about Reina.

But I'll be nice and keep it to myself, along with all the other little secrets I keep. Even from you.

Kenzie2 [https://i.imgur.com/7LCuA8B.png]

Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist