Unfortunately, class was upon them and as Brooke had noted, Mrs. Summers was far less energetic when talking about the Boston Tea Party. She did seem to get some joy out of explaining the real reason it occurred, but otherwise seemed deeply uninterested in the school mandated topic. 

 

Class ended without much fanfare, the bell rousing no small number of students from their information induced stupors. Unfortunately Brooke was too slow on her decision to try and speak with Mrs. Summers and found her already inundated by a small gaggle that didn’t seem inclined to move along quickly. With her introduction to her final teacher still on the docket she decided to seek out the advisor at another time, and made her way to her final class of the day.

 

Her final class of the day was an elective, a class she’d chosen entirely for being famously easy marks with no homework. “Exploring Art” was essentially a free period as long as you were messing around with something vaguely art related. Mostly she’d spent her time throwing paint at paper or smashing clay into hideous shapes, but for the first time she kind of wanted to… try? It was an odd realisation that nearly distracted her enough to forget she had to talk to the teacher first.

 

The teacher was exactly what you’d expect from an art teacher. Tie-dye shirt so long it’s halfway to a dress, hair tied back in a bun, exaggerated glasses and fuzzy pink slippers. She was pretty sure he was actively leaning into the role with the look. A theory that bore extra weight considering he also taught some of the cooking classes and would apparently wear completely different outfits for it. 

 

Today his shirt was a tie-dye focusing on pink white and blue, and even if they didn’t have any kind of order to them the intent felt rather obvious. The big smile on his face as he greeted her was also a strong indicator he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Brooke! So glad to see you! You’re looking absolutely lovely today! You ready to get down to work and get your hands dirty?”

 

His energy was infectious, kindling the already present embers of curious desire into a proper flame of desire. Mimicking his smile she gave a mock salute. “Of course sir! I’m ready to show the art world what I’m made of!”

 

With an energetic nod Mr. Erickson led her over to the clayworking section and handed her a fresh box. “Well then get on it Ms. Bernard! Time’s a wastin’!”

 

With mock bravado to match her words she plopped the new block of clay onto her slate and pressed her hands in with no clue where she was going and no concern for how she’d get there! All that energy froze solid the moment her fingers sank into the clay, her eyes going wide as she felt the cool material enveloping her soft skin. 

 

There was a hum in it. A pulse of something beyond the physical. The rest of the world faded away as she focused on that feeling, on the twisted energy flowing through the seemingly uniform mass. A twitch of a finger sent a hum through the block, twisting the energy as it passed, and as it hit the edge and returned she felt just that much more aware of the material she was working with.

 

With dedicated focus she began to test this strange new sense, pulling and pushing the clay as she observed the weave within. A pull here, a push there, a twist, a squeeze, a tug, and a pinch. The threads untangled as she worked and she found herself unable to contain her joy. If a random block of clay could feel happy, she was sure that would be what it was communicating.

 

By the time she looked up from her work the class was nearly empty, only Sarah and the teacher remained. Both were smiling, though Sarah’s was more of a smirk, and she was the first to speak up. “All done? We really should be heading home.”

 

A part of her flinched at the idea. She’d finished sculpting but that didn’t mean she was finished! But another part of her was able to read the clock on the far wall, and recognised that making the art teacher stay half an hour late was already pretty rude. So, with a resigned sigh she nodded and stood up and deposited her sculpture in the area designated for works in progress.

 

Still somewhat sullen she gave the teacher her thanks and made her way to her locker with Sarah in tow. She’d never gotten that into anything before! It was incredible! She regretted that her next art class would be a week away and swore she’d find a chance to work on it before then.

 

As they walked Brooke talked about her day, taking some time to voice her frustration at the sheer mundanity of it all, which Sarah shrugged off by pointing out that most kids had their own stuff to deal with. Then there was a discussion about Mrs. Summers, which led into a discussion of the club and the riots, and also briefly about flowers. They were just starting up a discussion about demonic hyper fixations when they arrived at the front door.

 

Suddenly everything else was forgotten as she discarded her disguise and positively luxuriated in being back in her true form. She stretched all four arms, gave her teeth a couple indulgent clacks, and even took a moment to appreciate her supernatural skin tone. Gosh she’d missed her body.

 

As she made her way into the kitchen, eager to feel her teeth on something substantial, she came face to face with a grinning Ms. Zwavel. “Soooo how was your day?”

 

Brooke blinked. Oh. Right. That made sense. “Surprisingly good? Still feels like I’m being stuffed into a too small t-shirt having to look human, but I think all the positive attention kind of helped mitigate it a little bit? At least if I can’t look like myself it’s nice to know that I still look good, you know?”

 

Ms. Zwavel nodded along. “Oh definitely. I still remember when I had to wear a charm while learning to control my own changes and let me tell you, they weren’t half as good back then. Making sure you still look like yourself was definitely one of the big improvements. So! All your teachers were supportive? No one tried to cause any trouble?”

 

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Yes they were, and no they didn’t… When did you even have the time to work something out with the school anyway?”

 

Ms. Zwavel giggled, covering her mouth with her hand while striking a dramatic pose. “Oh you know… I have my ways.”

 

“So you used magic?”

 

Ms. Zwavel visibly deflated. “Okay, yes, but it’s more complicated than that, okay? You can’t just go around ruining a woman’s mystique like that!”

 

Brooke fought down a giggle in response. “Oh yes, I’m terribly sorry. I’m sure it was all very dramatic. Speaking of dramatic; I’m going to go change into something I can run around in, because if I don’t get to make use of my cool demon body in the next five minutes I’m going to die.” She wasn’t sure when she’d gotten so comfortable with the older woman, but joking around with her already just seemed to come naturally. It was a nice feeling.

 

Then her mind flashed to her own mother, sitting at home alone…

 

“Now now none of that. Don’t you go fretting about a thing. Whatever has you worried, I promise I’m handling it. You just focus on enjoying yourself okay? Speaking of which…” Ms. Zwavel picked up some clothes from a nearby chair and offered them to Brooke with a smile. “Here, some clothes for running around in.”

 

With a bit of doubt as to the authenticity of Ms. Zwavel’s assurances she took the clothes and made her way to the first floor bathroom. The clothes were simple enough. A pair of black bike shorts and a black crop top with what she was becoming familiar with as thin lines of blue magic on them. 

 

Getting out of her school outfit was simple if not a bit tiresome; the enchantments on her clothes kept her from damaging them with her claws, but that necessitated some serious adjustment in how she handled them. Still, she got them off soon enough, and moments later was pulling on the tight fitting black garments.

 

As she stood in front of the mirror, arms, legs, and stomach bare, showing off the hints of muscles she hadn’t worked for, she couldn’t help but smile. She looked absolutely fantastic. The clothes clung to her in a way that seemed almost more inappropriate than simply going nude, and she found herself mesmerised by the shifting of her own muscles as she posed for the mirror. 

 

Yeah, she hadn’t really earned the body. Yeah a nagging part of her insisted she didn’t deserve it. Yeah, maybe there were people who needed a fresh body more than her… But fuck it. She felt good. She looked good. She wasn’t going to let herself cry about getting lucky. Well, she might cry some tears of joy, but even that wasn’t seeming likely. 

 

It was a moment of rational thought against irrational emotions and she knew she’d end up losing before long if she just kept staring. Instead, she made her way out of the bathroom, gave Ms. Zwavel a wave, and grabbed a hunting toy from the shed in the backyard. She’d heard exercise was good for pushing out those kinds of thoughts and she fully intended to test that theory.

 

She set the toy running, but didn’t immediately go after it. She focused on the feeling of her body, of her toe claws digging into the dirt, and the muscles in her legs tensing as she prepared to chase. She felt the tension filling her back as she leaned forward, and the muscles in her arms as they prepared to meet the ground once she began to run. She felt her teeth locking together, the modified shapes aligning perfectly with one another to allow them to settle into one another with a satisfying clack. She let herself become aware of every little twitch and tension in her body as the toy charged off.

 

Then she launched. She felt the air passing by her, her hair whipping around behind her head. She felt the ground give way slightly beneath her as she pushed off, and the delight of being airborne for the split second before her primary arms caught the ground. Then she felt her primary claws digging in, taking hold just enough to give traction as they pulled her forward. Then her feet touched down and she was pushing off again.

 

It was an effortless display of mastery developed entirely without her awareness. She’d realised what she was doing the last time, on some level, but she hadn’t truly indulged in the details. Now she was, and the toy became more inspiration than goal. She just wanted to move. She twisted left, her secondary arm helping to shift the momentum, her claws gouging out blots of dirt with the force of the change. She zigzagged her way after the toy with a fluidity that could only come from instinct. Her body moved the way she wanted it to.

 

She continued to run, pushing her body more and more and more until she could feel herself gulping down air in big, eager gasps. She could feel the blood pumping in her veins and the strain on her muscles as she tried so hard to go just a bit faster, launching herself wildly around the yard with a total disregard for the result of her stone-like body impacting the ground. 

 

The toy had been designed to calibrate its movements based on the user, but even at its fastest it began to struggle against Brooke’s most frantic efforts. She began to chip away at it, slashing with her secondary claws as she flew past over and over and over. Landing, pivoting, locating, and launching herself in the moment after each attack. 

 

Finally, she could feel the strain becoming too much. She landed atop the toy with all her weight, pinning it down as all six sets of claws dug into it. She wanted to rip into it, to tear it apart and enjoy the feeling of her teeth and claws cleaving through it with ease… But based on the smell coming from the back door, dinner was almost ready and that was something she’d much rather tear into.

 

So, with some reluctance she put away the toy and made her way inside, and came face to face with a grinning Sarah. “Well damn. Now I’m really sad you’re not joining the team.”