The next morning, Rachel stood hunched at the bus stop, alone and freezing cold. She was waiting patiently for the bus, but outside of a few cars the road leading from the end of her cul-de-sac there was no sign of her ride arriving any time soon.
Usually she just walked, after all the school was only about two miles away. This morning, though, it was so cold that her mother forbade her from walking. With how long she'd been waiting, though, she might as well have walked anyways, at least then she would have been moving. Even if her bulky coat kept most of her warm, she could still feel the 20mph gusts nip and bite at her exposed nose and cheeks. It was the first day this fall where she could clearly see her breath hovering in front of her face as she exhaled.
Despite all of this, Rachel felt excited. She knew she had no reason to be, but her sleep must have been incredibly good because that morning she was refreshed and ready to take on the day. Even the math test that still loomed in front of her (the one she didn't study for) seemed to be not that big a deal in light of the way she was feeling. It was almost a kind of lightness, like her insides were hovering a bit and lifting her off the ground slightly.
When the bus eventually rounded the corner into view (15 minutes late) she didn't care. Even when it nearly passed right by her and didn't stop for another thirty feet her mood was still on the up and up.
"Almost didn't see you there" the bus driver said cheerfully once Rachel caught up. "You're usually not here, I've just gotten so used to just passing this stop by I wasn't even looking."
Rachel took her word for it, and smiled at the driver as she boarded the bus and took her seat. The leather was still cold, the bus must not have had time to heat up fully, but all the same she wiggled to snug herself into her seat and buckled down. She hugged her backpack close to her, now stuffed full of books and papers instead of...huh...what was in there last night. She remembered taking something out but she couldn't remember what it was.
By the time she finally saw the plain brick façade of her school the bus had already made her late for first period class to the point where the teacher allowed her to just take the test another day.
"Score one for Rachel!" She said, pumping her fist in the air.
Second period was history, which was boring as per usual. She loved history, but found her teacher to be incredibly boring. The subject today was about the reconstruction era after the civil war, so basically all the boring presidents no one cared about.
Her favorite class of the day was Biology, not so much because she found the subject matter all that interesting, but because the teacher for that class was all kinds of cool to her. Ms. Simmons was that kind of teacher who would have all these really cool demonstrations and would always be really into her lectures. Rachel didn't care all that much about cell structures and whatnot, but the way Ms. Simmons talked about it made mitochondria seem like the most fascinating thing in the world. She'd rather listen to that for another hour and a half instead of why Andrew Johnson was a shitty president.
Today the topic of discussion was symbiotic organisms, and as a visual aide Ms. Simmons had brought in a tank full of fish with little green barnacle-like creatures attached to their sides.
"You see, on any other fish these things would be parasites – that is things that only take from their host organism. In this case though, they actually supply the fish with exactly the kinds of nutrients they need to survive, and the fish moves them around so they can absorb the chemicals in the water that they need to survive. Each one helping the other get what they want, two organisms, one whole."
No one other than Rachel seemed interested. Some of them even sneaked their phones out under the table to check Facebook. Ms. Simmons didn't seem to mind, though. She seemed to get joy just from giving the lectures, whether anyone listened or not. Rachel, on the other hand, was in the front row, keenly watching her do her teacherly thing with unnerving eagerness, even for this class.
While Ms. Simmons was writing something on the chalkboard, Rachel felt something light hit her on the back of the head. A few giggles sounded off behind her. When she turned to look at what hit her, she looked down and saw a crumpled up ball of paper lying there on the ground next to her back-left chair leg.
Meet me behind the dumpster out back at 3:30pm, I need to talk to you.
She cocked her eyebrow slightly in confusion. She didn't really know anyone in this class that well. Who could have thrown it?
She looked around the room, trying to glean from her classmates faces who the perpetrator might have been, and eventually judged by the glances people gave and the crooked, shit eating grin he had that her secret admirer was Nick Graves. She saw his hand rise up from behind the table and gave a little wave.
Rachel knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a creep, and tended to fixate on particular girls as targets of his affections for months at a time. Apparently Rachel was the current one. His hair hung down like a greasy mop from the top of his head. His plain black t-shirt and baggy, chain laden pants just screamed "I need attention, please notice me" which worked, though maybe not in the way he intended.
Unsure what to do, she did the first thing that came to her mind and crumpled the note, got up, walked over to the trashcan and threw it away.
By the laughs of her classmates and the broken, defeated look on Nick's face she realized she may have been a little too harsh. At this point Rachel's high feeling was beginning to dissipate, not a lot, but noticeably so. She tried to enjoy Ms. Simmons' lecture more, but her brain just wasn't allowing her to focus.
Once the bell rang for the end of Biology, it was time for lunch, and since her mother forgot to pack her a lunch that day Rachel had to use some of her spare change to get herself something from the lunch line.
She made sure to get there as fast as she could so that she could get a spot in line before it got really crowded. She crossed the tile floor quickly, entering the side room where the kitchen and lunch line were and grabbed a tray and plastic utensils from the shelves next to the door.
"Thank god" she thought "only seven people". The lunch line had a reputation for being a quagmire of sloth-paced walking and cold food. The food workers would never make enough, and thus three quarters of the line would have to wait for them to "make more" (i.e. microwave the leftovers quickly 'til they were lukewarm).
Rachel waited patiently, knowing she was going to get the first warm batch of food. She looked down the line at the people in front of her, and then turned around to see who was standing behind her in line. The line was definitely getting much longer, and seemed to stretch back at least to the door, probably further. Close behind was Monica, someone Rachel was glad she wasn't close in line to. When her eyes met hers, Monica rolled her eyes and looked away in exaggerated disgust.
Her gaze scanned along the line closer and closer to herself, and when she reached about twenty feet from her current position, she froze.
It was Ryan Trax.
She'd had had a crush on him for a while in middle school, and up until this point had pretty much put him out of her mind. He wasn't even especially attractive, at least not to her. His teeth were perfect, though, and he did seem to smile all the time. Rachel figured he was the type of person that seemed to attract attention without even trying.
"Why am I focusing so much on him?" she thought "I never really thought of him like that..."
There it was again, growing inside her, that unwavering confidence she had felt earlier that day. When she saw Ryan, something welled up, something that made her want to approach him. The voice in the back of her mind yelled at her that this was a stupid idea, that she wasn't even all that attracted to him. That didn't matter to her, though, his short brown hair and brown eyes now seemed more appealing to her than anything else in the world, even the prospect of a fresh lunch.
Taking a deep breath she stepped out of line and walked back along it to where Ryan was standing. He was talking to his friends, but when he saw Rachel approach he stopped for a moment and looked at her.
"Hey" she said holding her hand up sheepishly.
He glanced around a moment, then back at Rachel.
"Hey?" he said, grinning uncomfortably.
There's a moment of silence. Rachel had something prepared to say, but she'd forgotten what it was. Every last ounce of confidence she had before had vanished in the time it took for her to walk the ten feet to get to him.
"So..." she started "I've been thinking, and...I was wondering if maybe you wanted to you know...go out sometime...just like...dinner...or...something."
Ryan shifted around nervously, and his friends looked away trying and failing at looking like they weren't observing the embarrassing proceedings. Rachel knew the answer he was going to give before he even said it.
"Sorry...I'm just not really into you, that's all" He said, putting every last ounce of attempted sincerity he could spare on every word.
From further back along the line she heard Monica vomit a stifled chuckle. When Rachel turned to look at them she saw her fiendishly whispering to her friends.
"Alright, thanks" she muttered softly, turning away from Ryan quickly towards her former spot in line.
She could feel the judgmental and sometimes sympathetic stares of her peers following her as she walked. Once she got back to her place in line, she tried to sidestep between the two her were in front and behind her, but they butted her out before she could make her way between them.
"Hey, don't cut in line" one of them angrily.
At first she thought she was being serious, but as she walked away to find a place at the back of the line, she turned to look back and saw her smirking in her direction. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't directed at her, but she knew that wasn't true. Gaze turned downward, she shuffled towards her place at the back of the now much longer line.
Rachel made sure to avoid any eye contact with anybody as she creeped through the line at a snail's pace, shuffling with the dozens of other students who wouldn't get their lunch until the period was halfway over. By the time she finally got her meal of peas, cold mashed potatoes, and "stew" she made her way to her usual table in the lunchroom, the one that was empty at one and so that she could sit alone.
She used her plastic fork to play around with the food on her plate for a little bit. She wasn't hungry though, and after a while gave up any pretension of actually eating and just let her food grow even colder than it already was. She pulled the hood of the hoodie up and ducked her head down so her face couldn't be seen by the jeering kids nearby.
If she was really honest with herself, she never really liked lunch period all that much anyways. It was too noisy and there were always too many people around. She didn't really have to worry about people sitting with her most of the time; she assumed that there was just some sort of unspoken agreement she had with everyone else in the room: you don't sit with me and I won't look at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable. It seemed like it was working pretty well, too.
Well...mostly.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw the last person she wanted to see at that moment. Nick was weaving his way amongst the tables, trying to look like he wasn't going anywhere in particular, but Rachel knew exactly where he was planning to sit.
Sure enough, his "looking for a table" ruse finally came to its natural climax after only ten seconds. He turned to look at Rachel and raised his eyebrows like he just saw her (complete with mock surprise), destination set, he made a beeline for where she was sitting.
He placed is tray down at the spot across from her and took a seat.
"So did you catch that meteor shower last night?" He asked excitedly.
Rachel didn't respond.
"I...I saw what happened over there" he paused "you know, he doesn't have the right to treat you that way."
Again, she didn't respond. He continued to stare at her with eyes full of a puppy dog variety worry and want. She noticed that his eyes glanced up and down her body when he thought she wasn't looking.
"You know, you deserve someone better than that, you know? Someone who likes you for you, someone who..."
"Please don't talk to me." She muttered sharply.
He seemed taken aback by this. His jaw made small motions like he was preparing to say something, but no words come out. He blinks a few more times, maybe hoping for more words from her, but then picks up his tray silently and walks away.
Once we was about twenty feet away he slouched his shoulders, letting his hair topple down around his face.
Rachel noticed that others nearby had been watching to proceedings silently, but when she looked them in the eye they went straight back to talking with each other as if nothing had happened. She didn't feel comfortable in the lunchroom anymore. Taking her tray with her, she got up and walked to the trashcan, tossed her uneaten food in and placed her tray on top with all the others.
She decided that instead of eating she wanted to spend the rest of her lunch period in the bathroom. She didn't actually have to go, but maybe if she found a stall she liked she'd be able to stay there without other people looking at her face. She crossed the hall and made her way to the women's bathroom door on the far side, passing by the table where Nick was sitting. When she glanced out of the corner of her eye to look at him, she saw he was giving her dirty looks from underneath his long greasy hair.
She pushed her way through the swinging door, hoping that one of the stalls might be available. Much to her relief they all were, but when she saw the people who were standing near them made her heart drop. It was Monica, standing in front of the mirror with her hive of friends buzzing all around her.
At first they didn't notice her, and Rachel wanted to keep it that way, but after a few steps, Monica turned her head towards her and stood upright and looked at her with a pleasant white smile. When the rest of the group saw who she saw, they all fell silent.
"Hey Rachel, how are you feeling honey" She said with over-exaggerated friendliness "Ryan didn't hurt your feelings too much, did he?"
Rachel tried to ignore her and made her way to the nearest stall, but was stopped by one of Monica's friends blocking her way. Before Rachel could turn around and leave, Monica had stepped in behind her and snatched her backpack right from her shoulder, freeing it from her loose grip with a single sharp tug.
"Can I have my bag back please?"
Monica held it to the side by the top strap with one finger
"Maybe if you told us why you asked Ryan out, I be nice and decide to give it back to you."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't, just a little curious, that's all."
Rachel looked down and to the side, trying to avoid Monica's judgmental gaze.
"I guess I like him." She mumbled
"What was that?" Monica said cupping her free hand behind her ear and turning it towards her.
"I said I like him." Rachel said louder and more defiantly.
There was a moment of silence. A wicked smile grew on Monica's face. She gave a slight chuckle and shook her head.
"Why, do you want to fuck him?" She took a step closer to Rachel "Did you want him to stick his dick inside of you and make you feel all good inside?" She said in a cloying baby voice. She laughed again and the other girls laughed with her.
"I'm not sure if anyone's told you this, so I'll go ahead and tell you now: no one would willingly fuck you. Look at you! Maybe if you grew out your hair you'd at least look like a woman. Plus you're so fucking clingy I can't believe you haven't forced yourself on the first guy that gives you the time of day yet." She paused and pointed one finger up as if she had an idea "Why not ask Nick, I'm sure he'd be more than willing. I really think you two were meant for each other."
With that she tossed her bag on the ground in front of her and turned on a dime. She sauntered to the door with her drones in tow pushed it open with a forceful shove. They didn't look back at Rachel, who continued to stand there catatonic with her mouth hanging partially open.
The school bell rang signaling the end of lunch period, most of the students went straight from the lunch room to their next period class. Rachel didn't go to their next period class, or the one after that.
Instead she meandered down the halls, being sure to avoid the usual spots where someone might have ended up seeing her and made her way to the little-used bathroom on the far side of the third floor. This was the place where other people would go for a little private time, but for now it seemed like it was empty except for her.
She found a nice dark corner hidden behind a sink, and curled up on the tile floor, wrapping her legs around her knees and ducking her head down into her legs. Her nose filled quickly with mucus and tears formed on the edge of her eyes. Every breath came in like it was a hiccup in short, little bursts that occasionally forced unseemly strands of saliva out of her mouth.
"Nobody wants me" she moaned to herself "nobody wants me" she repeated. She kept on repeating that sentence over and over to herself, at first out loud, and when her vocal chords had worn dry, in her head.
By the time 5pm rolled around, she figured it was about time for her to head home. She didn't feel sad anymore. Instead, whatever she was feeling was replaced with nothing more than a vague, cold emptiness that hung like a fog inside her chest.
The janitors cleaning the building gave a few sidelong glances at her, but otherwise her presence went completely unnoticed. Finally, she pushed her way through the double doors into the freezing cold. She didn't even bother to pull her collar against her neck, the wind didn't bother her as much anyways.
------------------------------------------
Opening her front door, she threw her backpack down on the hardwood floor of her foyer and Slipped off her shoes. At first she tried to tiptoe so she wouldn't alert her mom to her presence, but then realized that her mom was on a church retreat and wouldn't be back until early the next morning.
"I'll be back in time for when you wake up" she said cheerfully "just in time to catch you before you leave for school."
Rachel walked up the stairs, intending to spend the rest of her evening curled up under her sheets and quilts and to shut out the rest of the world for the rest of the night, and probably tomorrow too unless her mom dragged her out of bed. She'd done it before, but Rachel thought she'd give her the challenge considering she was a bit heavier than last time. She walked down the hall, opened the door, stepped into the room, and threw her sweater carelessly onto her desk chair. The room was dark, though, so instead of hitting its mark it landed on the floor next to it.
As she made her way across the room to turn on the lamp, she caught a brief glint of light out of the corner of her eye. The light of the streetlamp coming through the window was reflecting off of something on her floor. Confused, she turned to look and see what it was.
When her eyes began to adjust, she seized up and opened her mouth to scream, but slams her hand over it before any sound could escape. In the dim evening light of her bedroom, it looked almost pitch black, but the patches exposed to light that streamed through her window revealed that it was actually a very dark green color. The thing shimmered and reflected that light as if the whole thing is covered in slime, but the carpeted floor it laid on didn't seem to have any damp spots.
She skirted around the edge of her room, trying as hard as possible to avoid getting to close to it. When she managed to get near her bedside table, she reached under the shade of her lamp and flicked the switch, instantly flooding the room with yellow-orange light. Confident in her ability to get a good look at it, she again turned and looked at the thing on the floor.
It looked like something out of H.R. Geiger's wet dream. The thing was curled up in a fetal position on the floor, but was clearly shaped like a voluptuous female human, even though its features were distinctly alien. To Tess it kind of looked like Sil from that movie "Species" she saw earlier that year mixed with a symbiote from one of her comics.
The head was the most distinctive part. Instead of hair it had a mess of thick tendrils that tapered off once they got to about shoulder length. The face was fierce looking, but at the same time beautiful and feminine, with large, deep, black pupil-less eyes watching her from underneath its half-closed eyelids. Its breasts were large (but not ridiculously so) and like the rest of the body had the same latticework of veins that seemed to accentuate the musculature of the things arms, legs, and body. The fingers of the creature were extended and pointed like claws, but they were mostly hidden in their current curled up state.
As her gaze moved downwards along the creature's body, she saw something that made her turn away for a moment and blush. On its exposed crotch was a thin slit where a human vagina would be. It may have just been a trick of the light, but she could swear that she saw it pulsate and twitch periodically. When she finally reached the feet, she saw that they were clawed, much like the hands, and were shaped like human feet, complete with curvature and five individual toes.
For a moment Rachel just stood there motionless, staring down at it expecting it to rise up at any moment and slaughter her like the aliens in movies so often did.
Five seconds, passed, then ten seconds, then fifteen. Her curiosity was getting the better of her again. She opened her bedside table drawer and pulled out one of her pencils. She took a few tentative steps across the room, pencil held up and pointed outwards like a weapon, ready to defend herself if she had to. Once she got within reaching distance of the thing, she crouched down next to it and looked over it again.
It didn't move.
Gingerly, she poked it twice with the pencil to see if it would react. Once she felt that she wasn't in any danger of the thing getting up and attacking her, she placed the pencil carefully on the ground next to her and reached out with one hand. She lightly grabbed the creature's upward pointing shoulder and turned it until its back was pointing towards the ceiling.
The back of it looked very much like the front, but with one very important difference: an opening that started just above the creature's ass and trailed all the way up into its tendril hair. She tried to look inside of the slit to see what was inside of it, but all she could see in its nearly-closed state was blackness. Like the eyes of her Halloween mask, the eerie emptiness seemed to call out to her.
In that moment, it dawned on her: it wasn't a creature at all...it was a suit! An organic, human-shaped bodysuit that was seemingly meant to be worn by just that, a human – or at least someone human shaped.
"Is this thing...meant for me?" she thought
It looked like it was about her height, but it also looked like it would be a tight fit. She didn't mind that, in fact that just made the suit all the more desirable to her.
With this she could be someone else entirely, and whole new person...a whole new thing. She wouldn't have to be boring, embarrassing Rachel anymore, she could be someone who didn't have the same anxieties and hang-ups she had. The thought of something organic and alien clinging to her like a costume appealed to her greatly. She didn't want to admit it to herself then, but the thought of putting the suit on turned her on...a lot.
Her heart beat fast. She could feel the sweat forming all along her body as thoughts of her new self started to fill her head. She hugged herself and let thoughts of the suit wash over her as she watched it lie there on the floor waiting. Her body rocked rhythmically as she tried in vain to control her excited breathing.
She wanted it. Her entire being ached for it to cover her body and tighten until she was no longer herself, anybody but herself. She wormed her hand under the lampshade and turned it off.
Eyes fixed hungrily on the suit, she reached down, grabbing the bottom of her shirt with both hands, and lifted up...
