Revelations

A Winds of Change story

by Doug Linger

I don’t remember the diner very well.

I remember Todd teasing Jim about his new vocal range, and Gale admonishing him and declared she thought it was neat. I seem to recall Stripes changing back to a bluejay, much to his exasperation. He had barely gotten started on his fish. I also remember zoning out and falling facefirst onto the table.

It had nothing to do with how much I’d drunk that night. Rather, it was due to how much I’d eaten. The reptillian torpor I usually get after eating was starting to set in. Combined with the late hour and the October chill, it was pretty hard for me to do anything. I probably looked like a drug addict before the night was out.

What I don’t remember was who it was that got a hold of a magic marker and decided to play artist. If I ever figure it out...

At least someone was kind enough to drive me home. I fell asleep in the car.

"Okay, let’s try this again..." Stripes, back as a zebra, sighed, and began the first bars of Jim’s Full Moon.

The band session was a mess. Todd found that holding a guitar while in a wheelchair was awkward at best; playing it was the next best thing to impossible. Over time he’d learn, probably, although I got the impression that by then he’d be ready to walk on his own anyway. And without Mano on sax—or violin, now—the songs sounded odd. It was like eating a hamburger without the bun: possible, but messy and not as good as the full thing. And then there was myself.

I started in on the beat, but after a few hits one of the sticks slipped out of my hand and fell clattering to the cement floor of the garage.

Stripes glared at me as the thrum of the guitar faded away. "What is with you today, Michael? You’ve been missing cues and stuff all morning!"

I bent to pick up the drumstick, and the room seemed to tilt alarmingly. I grabbed the seat and carefully lowered myself to get at it. "Sorry," I said, grinning embarrassedly. "I guess that punch must be starting to kick in."

"The what?" Jim asked.

"What, didn’t anyone tell you?" At everyone’s blank looks I rolled my eyes—counter to each other, which was rather disturbing to judge from their faces. "Apparently the punch at the dance was spiked."

"Aw, crap."

"Yeah. With my slower metabolism, it’s only just starting to really affect me." I grinned at them. "It’s going to be an interesting week."

"Interesting like a train wreck," Todd pointed out, to general laughter.

Stripes sighed. "Well, I guess the practice is a bust, then. So what do we do? We can’t exactly go to the mall." He pointed outside; it was raining buckets, and his parents had taken the car on an errand shortly after everyone arrived. No one wanted to go out in that if they didn’t have to.

"Bloody Roar 4!" Jim cried.

We all looked at each other for a moment. Then we tried to get our intruments into some remotely plausible variation of "away". We called out our character claims as we raced for the console. "Sumo’s mine!" "Alice!" "I get Fox!" "Hey...!"

I won the race. I lost the game, badly.

The room didn’t just tilting now, it whirled like like Gomez Adams doing the Mamushka. Mazurka. Mamamia. Whatever it was called.

"Where am I?" It came out a little slurred. I blinked, trying to get the room to stay still, but it was a stubborn room, and it refused to stop.

"You’re in the nurse’s office, dear." The coyote-woman leaned over me, concern in her eyes. I suddenly realized I was lying on one of the couches.

"What happened?" I asked. I couldn’t remember much. Last night was kinda fuzzy, and I couldn’t remember a thing of this morning.

The nurse pressed an ice pack against my forehead. "You decided to go down the front stairs on your head, feet not being good enough."

It was odd. I knew she was right, but I couldn’t remember the actual event at all. Kinda like remembering two and two is four, even though you don’t remember ever being taught it.

Well, it’s the closest analogy I could think of.

"How’s your head?"

"Green and bald, why?"

I heard voices near the front of the office, beyond the curtain. "’n here, Mom!"

My mom pushed aside the curtain and looked at me. Even to me, she was obviously upset. "Michael! What happened?!"

"I fell on my bottom," I said in my best imitation of... somebody.

"He’s drunk," the nurse supplied helpfully.

My mother’s mouth dropped in surprise, making be giggle. I found it hilarious to see the horse morph trying hard to look like a fish.

"Why didn’t you tell me you drank so much Friday night, Michael?" She must have heard from other students throughout the day.

I grinned up at her. "I never been drunk before. Thought I could handle it." I offered an exaggerated shrug as apology. "Guess not, huh?"

My mom turned to the nurse. "Is he all right?"

"Am I ever going to be able to play the piano again, doc?"

"He was knocked unconscious by the fall," the nurse said, ignoring me. "I don’t see any sign of a concussion, and he’s so wasted he doesn’t even have a headache. I suggest you just take him home to sleep it off, Mrs. Brooks. He can come back when it’s passed."

My mom sighed, no doubt thinking of all the classes I’d be missing over the rest of the day. "How long will that be?"

"Another day or two should do it, I think."

"Wheeee! No school!"

My mom sighed. She hated the idea of my missing school for any reason. If the building ever did manage to burn down she’d get me over to the nearest school the next day; the same day, if it was early enough. But even she realized the wisdom here. It’d be rather difficult to concentrate on classes when I couldn’t even stand up.

"Well, if he must, he must. I’ll be by to pick him up after school." She turned to me and said, "Don’t give her any trouble, all right?" She knew how much of a pest I could be when I was bored.

"Who, me?" I asked innocently.

"Aaagh! I’m going insane!"

I was totally bored. Tuesday I was confined to the house like I was Monday night, a rule that even I, drunk, could understand. But it was far more hellish because there was nothing to do. I couldn’t talk with my parents (not that I do much of that anyway) because they were gone, I couldn’t concentrate enough to read or use my computer, and there was nothing on TV.

God, it sucked. I wasn’t looking forward to another day of that.

"There’s no way I’m staying here like yesterday," I said aloud to the empty house. I tried to think of what to do instead.

"The mall!" I cried. It was the obvious choice. I’d have to use my bike, of course—it wasn’t that near—but I felt confident enough to ride. I wasn’t nearly as drunk as I was Monday, or even yesterday; heck, I was mostly over it. Keeping me home today was more precautionary than was really necessary. I wouldn’t have minded if I wasn’t so bored.

The ride down there was uneventful; I couldn’t see why Mom told my not to use my bike. It hadn’t rained since Sunday, so I didn’t have to worry about that. The mall itself was nearly deserted. At least, it seemed that way, compared to the weekends and after school, when I normally saw it.

I wandered around for a little, just looking. "Oh man," I moaned to myself. Two mall workers were busy tying plastic evergreen boughs to the lights above the walkways. Christmas decorations carved a path, showing where they had already strewn the signs of mass commercialism. They put them up early at the mall, but this was rediculous. "Its not even Thanksgiving. Hell, it’s barely November!" I shook my head and headed for the arcade.

A few hours later, a few dollars lighter and with arms sore from working the joystick a bit too energetically, I was back to wandering the mall.

Well, I thought, gazing at a giant foam candy-cane stuck on a structural beam, if they’re going to go to all the trouble of putting up the Christmas decorations I might as well start making a list. I headed off towards the nearest department store. Still doesn’t feel much like Christmas to me, though, I added with a mental grumble.

Sears was a little more crowded than the mall in general, especially the electronics section where I headed first. "Woah," I sighed as I spied Tomb Raider VI. It was finally out, and looking absolutely stunning. So did Lara, of course. I managed to restrain myself from buying it outright, but it definitely went on my list. So did a few other things: a tera or two of RAM, a new TV (one can dream), and a new IAC.

Then I wandered over to the clothing section. It was the one inevitable gift at Christmas, so I might as well have something to point my parents at, rather than take my chances that they’d pick stuff I’d actually wear.

I was browsing through the sweatshirts when I noticed her. A young middie lioness was in the Ladies’ Department just across the aisle. Small, with brown hair almost to her waist, she wore a plain black T-shirt and pants that fit rather poorly. Which certainly explains why she was looking at the jeans there. Even so, she was rather pretty. She had a sort of waif-like quality about her, of someone terribly lost and abandoned. I thought it gave her a kind of charm.

"Hi," I called as I walked over. For some reason, I wasn’t as nervous as I should have been at talking to an unfamiliar girl. "Can I help you?" So what if I didn’t work there?

She looked up at me and blanched. "Aaah..." She looked terribly nervous, like she wanted to duck behind the rack between us. "Please... go away," she said, her voice soft and unsure.

"You sure?" I almost did as she asked, but something about her had piqued my interest. "You new around here? Going to be going to Bat Masterson High? Got time for a movie later?"

All right, so I was still a little drunk. I’m never this forward. Still, it’d be great if something happened.

The lioness glared up at me. "Yes, I’m new here," she said, obviously irritated. "Yes, I’m going to Bat Masterson. No, I do not want to go on a date with you."

I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, sorry. So what’s your name? Maybe we’ll meet in a class or something."

"Dammit, just go away, Mike."

"Call me Michael; Mike is so damn common," I said automatically, then blinked. "Hey! How’d you know my name?"

"Ah..." Her head whipped about, searching desperately for a distraction.

One provided itself suddenly in the form of a hiddie mourning dove. She appeared seemingly from nowhere, holding a handful of women’s clothing. "There you are! It’s easier to find you clothes when you’re with me, dear; I’m not a fashion wiz, you know. Oh, hi Michael!"

I turned one eye towards the newcomer, leaving the other trained on the lioness. "Mrs. Jacobson?"

"Ms.," she stated emphatically. The lioness seemed to hold her breath for a moment. When my friend’s mother didn’t continue she let it out, relieved.

Things clicked into place. "Mano?" I blurted out. Her eyes closed, and she leaned heavily against the racks of clothing, seeming to deflate at the single word. I looked with shock between Ms. Jacobson and her... daughter. It took a few moments for my mind to complete the phrase. It felt weird even to think it.

The bird nodded slowly. "He transformed last night, in his sleep. The doctors think it might be Multimorph, with the forms so similar as to almost be a simple gender change." Mano—Mana? -- groaned aloud. With one hand over her eyes she walked quickly away from the discussion.

"Ah..." I said absently as I watched her go with one eye. I had the feeling it’d be best not to follow just now. "Well, that explains the shopping trip, I suppose. But if he... she’s reacting like this then why is she still female?"

Ms. Jacobson sighed. "She’s stuck."

"Of course." I winced. Both because I felt so stupid for not seeing it, and because I suddenly realized exactly how upset Mana was. People act to a girl totally differently than they act to a boy; much more differently than between any of David’s morphs. Mano—Mana, rather—would have a lot of things to figure out in his head. And the name and pronouns were obviously going to take a while to get straight in my own.

"I think I made a mess of things," I said. "Sorry."

"It’s not your fault. You didn’t know."

"Yeah, but still." I sighed. "I’d better go find him. See if I can get him calmed down a little."

"You do that, Michael. I’ll be around here when you find her."

It took a little while to find her. She was hidden pretty well, in a corner of the Menswear Department. "Uh, hi." I said, much less confidently than I had approached her earlier.

She turned to face me. The fur on her cheeks was wet; she’d been crying. No tears ran now, however, which I hoped was a good sign. "Hi, Michael."

"Hey, that’s good. You remembered. My preferences, I mean. About my name." Boy, that sounded lame. "Ah... look—"

"Take a look around," she interrupted me.

I did. We were surrounded by suits; a few morphs, customers and staff, were looking one over a dozen or two feet away. "Um, yes?"

"I can’t wear any of these!" she wailed at me. The employee looked over at us with a worried expression.

"You never wore suits anyway," I pointed out with a grin.

She answered with a menacing glare. "You know what I mean!"

My smile faded. "Yeah, I know. Look, it’s not like it’s the end of the world."

"Let me guess: half the world is female, they seem to live with it fine, so why can’t I, right?"

I actually had been going to say that. But instead I said, "No, I was going to point out that these blocks don’t usually stay around for long." She snorted. "And even if they do," I continued as if I didn’t hear her, "they don’t last forever. Just think, when this is over you can go back and forth. You can tell us what the inside of the girls’ locker room is like!" Mana growled, low in her throat. "Okay, maybe that was a bit much," I admitted. "But if it’s any consolation, at least you’re very pretty. You won’t be wa—"

I didn’t get to complete my sentence as a huge paw slapped me full on the cheek. I spun around at the force of the blow—the big cat morphs, even the petite ones, are not to be trifled with. I had time to be thankful her claws were sheathed before I hit the floor, dazed.

"Don’t call me pretty," Mana hissed at me.

"Ah... ok," I said as I tried to get the stars to go away. "Ow."

Her expression softened immediately. "I’m sorry, Michael. I just—"

"Could you come with me, sir?" The voice was polite but firm. I looked up to see a lowdie jaguar in a security uniform.

I rose slowly to my feet, working my jaw. It wasn’t broken, it just hurt like hell. "But I didn’t—"

"Please just come with us. We’re to escort you off the premises."

We? A moment’s search revealed a second guard, an iguana, a dozen feet away, paying rapt attention to the conversation. "Just a second." I turned to Mana. "Look, when you’re done, if you want to meet up, I’ll be in the food court."

"No... No, I don’t think so, Michael."

I shrugged. The jaguar decided my second was up and took me firmly by the shoulder. "I’ll wait anyway. See you there, I hope. It’s not a date, really!" I reassured her. I didn’t get to hear her reply as the guards escorted me away.

Copyright 1998, Doug Linger

Go Back to Everything Old Is New Again

Go Forward to Facing The Mirror

Go the Teen Round Robin Index Page