Chapter 8 – My Laser

I almost forgot about the whole thing until I caught the fact Heather’s hair was noticeably longer. Her lips also appeared more…pert with a cute shape, like she was pouting them ever so slightly without meaning to. Her skin looked amazing. We’d gone together for our last yearbook photo and she was meticulous about covering up her outbreaks at the time. Her face looked like an actress’s or a model's right then. I held my tongue and glanced around.

No one said anything about how Heather looked. No one even seemed to notice us as they were absorbed with something only they and their partners knew. The librarian helped someone who’d come up with a book and the teacher was leaning in on a group far away from us. At least he’d stopped his futile efforts at shushing.

With a deep, fretful breath, I looked at Wes. He hadn’t really changed that much. His face looked like he’d recently shaved it. And his hair appeared like it hadn’t been trimmed for a while. The spikes were beginning to flatten and whatever product he put in to shape it was leeching away, giving it a soft, silken, and fuller appearance. His shaggy hair blunted the scope of his ears. And maybe his hips were a little different, but his arms still had their fuzz.

I looked at him. I remembered how he laughed at me that day. I felt incoherently hot in my cheeks. I didn’t care that it made no sense to get ticked at him now. I peered at him like I was aiming a laser. I didn’t care what Heather said. Besides, she basically tossed me at him.

I wanted him to turn into a cute girl. Have her feel embarrassment in my shoes as the first draft of her paper was read. Be a small girl, shorter than me. Know what I felt standing there beside the guy I thought I could trust. Soon, I felt weird. I felt out-of-my-body weird and woozy.

Staring ahead through the open window into the small area behind the cafeteria, the sensation soon passed, and I felt calmer. I regretted my thoughts in that moment and sighed. Then, Heather rested her head against my shoulder and said, “You feel sooo nice…”

Straightening in my seat, she grumbled a moment before settling. My gosh, she was changing even more.

Her hair looked so long. Her bust was fuller, as though she’d padded her bra or stuffed it. Her jeans were an awkward fit with how her hips now stuck out. And she was affectionate in a way which seemed more like she was drunk. She gave a contented sigh and told me, “I’m so sorry I…shoved you. I won’t do it again…”

Shivering despite the warmth of her head on me, I gingerly turned to check on Wes. I felt both relief and anxiety.

Firstly, he hadn’t spontaneously turned into a girl or a copy of me. But the changes also hadn’t stopped. The fuzz had been blasted away. His arms were bare and attached to a different, softer body. That body was quickly emerging, even though he appeared more androgynous than feminine.

On my other side, Heather picked up her head and softly whispered, “I feel weird but…good. Wow…” followed by a little giggle.

What was happening to her worried me more than what was happening to Wes. She sounded different, more so than the higher pitch to her voice. With a deep breath, I pushed up from the chair and backed away. I put as much distance between them and me as I’d given in the aisle for Heather. I kept my attention on the librarian like I had a question only she could answer. I tried my best to keep some semblance of normalcy. I looked back.

For a moment, like a fleeting vision, I saw nothing but girls in the row, all oblivious to their fates. Even the teacher was a woman with the beginnings of graying but longer hair. It didn’t improve her ability to command a class though.

That vision didn’t stay with me. Instead, I realized that only Heather and Wes had changed. The students on the other side of them also seemed to notice that something was up, on Wes’s side especially. The girl sitting there frowned at his full, dark hair. The one on the other side of Heather gave a double-take at her breasts but seemed to want to ignore it more than anything else.

I still felt strange even as I stood there. I backed away further and crept towards the librarian. The teacher leaned up from the group he was talking to and gave me a quick, skeptical glare.  

My question for the librarian was something involving the index and how to cite multiple sources by the same author. I knew the answer before she even opened her mouth, but I needed to get away. It didn’t take long for Heather to scream.

She scooted her chair away and locked her eyes on Wes. She panted at him and then darted her eyes at me. All the ease and sedation of a moment before vanished from her gaze. All sense of friendship and compassion also evaporated, and she looked at me like I was a serpent suddenly released in the room.

Everyone else watched Wes. Despite the fact I’d moved away from him further than the test distance, it still looked like his changes were increasing. I took an extra step back for good measure.

Anarchy rippled out from him. No one seemed to know what was going on, but they appeared willing to cause a fuss and bolt out of the way. The teacher’s loud “Hey! HEY!”s did little to calm things.

The librarian stepped in with a sudden, deafening blast of the whistle she kept around her neck. Such noise hadn’t likely been heard in the library since, well, probably the last class to visit…but it was still rather jarring for me.

I froze in place with my hands in front of me. Wes turned around in his chair and his eyes widened. For all the words he knew, a common swear was the next out of his mouth. And it looked like he was still becoming more feminine.

I shook my head quietly and wondered if I was wrong about all this. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t by him and he still was changing. Heather’s stony stare softened but only for concern beamed in Wes’s direction. I kept back with no idea anymore of how any of this actually worked.

It didn’t take long for Wes’s eyes to find mine. For all the ill-feeling I heaved at him in my mind. For all the repressed hurt I unbound. For all I should’ve felt pleased that what I envisioned was somehow, impossibly happening…I felt fear and regret. It was deepened by the eyes piling on me from across the room and the sick feeling they all added to my stomach.

The librarian stepped in where the teacher didn’t and crouched beside Wes. She asked him a few quick questions I couldn’t hear over the rising roar of the other students. She bolted up and raised her whistle again. That was all she needed to do to silence the room. Sternly and only as loud as necessary, she said, “Everyone…return to your seats right now. We are going to take care of what’s going on.”

I took a step towards my chair, but Heather’s bitter scowl kept me from getting closer. The librarian noticed and asked for my teacher to come over. She attended to Wes while the teacher took me aside and asked, “What’s going on? Is this what happened last period?” His eyes flicked over to Heather but didn’t linger there as the librarian helped Wes to his feet. His clothes looked a size too big for him and his body still wasn’t returning to normal.

In my thoughts, I wondered if my bitter wish had somehow…broken him. It had done weird things to Heather but those had been undone as soon as I moved away from her. I tried to wish it all away but that didn’t seem to help.

I cradled my head and said, “Yes. This is what happened. Everyone near me has weird stuff…happen to them.” My voice broke as I did my best to finish my sentence. I tried to speak privately, but I knew plenty of people in their seats were hanging on my every word and passing them along.

The harshness in Heather’s eyes ebbed before my vision blurred to tears. My teacher sighed, but he didn’t put an arm around me. He made no effort to comfort me. He was never the touchy-feely sort anyway. Few teachers were when the least little contact could be the inspiration for a spurious lawsuit.

As I dried my eyes, I watched Wes wobble on his feet and tighten his clothes. Wes Betancourt, as I’d known him since freshman year, was still dissolving as a man. His full, dark hair curled around his face and hugged the edge of his cheeks like a strange, false beard. But that face was hairless and bloomed out at the edges. His lips had acquired the same fullness as Heather’s from a minute ago.  

His shoulders drooped in his messy-sized shirt. His hands and arms appeared no different than mine. Everything else was shapelessly-buried under his clothing except for the dent of his breasts across his plaid top. The librarian helped and made sure he didn’t expose himself to the others. It seemed like he was still changing even as he gingerly made his way across the room. His voice was a strangled squeak on the verge of tears I’d never known from him.

Heather’s glare was gone but the eyes of other girls were sharpened to stabbing points and aimed right at me. Death by dozens of iris pricks.

Finally and carefully setting a hand on my shoulder, the teacher said, “Grab your stuff and head back to the office. I’ll…umm…call up and try to explain. Go on…”

I nodded without energy or enthusiasm. I picked up my bag. The other students pushed their chairs away whenever I got close, like I harbored a deadly virus. Heather was the only one who didn’t move. She raised a single hand to me with a sigh but didn’t wave it.

I didn’t linger once I had my stuff. I watched Wes as he vanished into the girl’s restroom with the librarian. I accepted my pass from the teacher and left the library.

I resisted looking back.

The last normal moments of my life were over.

Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist