1 We're Back Chapter 3
Eleanor leaned back, resting her head on the pillows. She tugged the pristine white sheets around her self-consciously, watching the nurse putter around her room. She still wasn't sure that she wouldn't turn back into a girl any second and send the nurse screaming to her supervisor. The woman was trying to be nice, talking, asking questions, but Eleanor was too freaked out by her new voice to respond with more than, "Mmmm?" and an occasional sage-like nod.
There came a knock on the door, and the nurse, with a glance over to where Eleanor was, walked swiftly over to answer it. Four pairs of curious eyes glinted, and then, before the nurse could say a word about visiting hours, she was stampeded by the small crowd of excited boys. Muttering to herself about unruly boys (Eleanor secretly agreed) the nurse left, flipping off the boys' backs, in a very unladylike way.
"Oh my gosh, it's true!" The smallish one said in an awe-hushed tone.
"This is crazy!" Was the much louder opinion of what seemed (in Eleanor's mind) to be the craziest one in the bunch. The boy, though fiendishly good looking, was making faces and hopping about in such a way that made Eleanor wonder if he didn't have to go to the bathroom as badly as she had had to.
"I don't believe it." The words, slow and drawling, emerged from a greasy looking boy, with a hairstyle that must have taken hours to fix.
"Yeah, well me neither." Each boy jumped back when Eleanor spoke, and she couldn't help feeling a little irritated. She was breathing, her eyes were blinking, and they clearly knew she was alive, so why in that name of it all would they not expect her to say something?
"Whoa hey!" The tallest one there, with dark hair and dark eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, then added with a sheepish smile, "it's weird hearing that voice after so long. Good to have you back Dallas."
Eleanor snorted. "What did you call me?" she demanded, trying to ignore the way her voice cracked when she tried to speak in her normal range. Giving up, she added in a deeper tone, "do I look like a state to you?"
Again the boys seemed startled.
"Glory," murmured the nice-looking one, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I never thought…I guess his memory…"
"Dallas ain't a state anyway," the young one said absently. "But that's your name…your name is Dallas-"
"I gathered," Eleanor replied dryly. She was beginning to feel very annoyed with them. She should have known they'd just be pests. They were boys after all.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter, and gave the handsome one a look. "Well, while we're learning names, who the hell are you?" Then she almost jumped hearing herself swear. She never swore, it was uncouth, but the word just seemed to fly right out of her mouth.
The boy gave her a worried look, and stopped his obscene hopping. "Maybe we should call the doctors," he said softly, "he doesn't seem like he-"
"I said 'who the hell are you'!" Eleanor yelled suddenly. Everyone, including herself jumped again. She hadn't meant to yell it out loud, only to think it, but it appeared her mouth had other ideas.
Then the tall one grinned crookedly, and a glint came to his eyes. He looked, actually, fairly mean, as she noticed now. She was beginning to regret having yelled.
But he only laughed, and shook his head. "Aww, he'll be fine. Seems quite himself actually." Then he laughed again, sending chills down her spine.
'God, you're creepy,' she thought, and then suddenly she was saying it.
'Damn,' she thought furiously as the boys exchanged more looks. Then she shook herself, realising she'd sworn yet again. Apparently she now had no more control of her mouth than any other ruddy, dipstick boy did. Rubbing her eyes, she felt a sudden fierce desire inside her, growing steadily in a dull throb until it formed a clear and almost desperate sentence in her mind:
"I want a cigarette."
Eleanor, with her strong morals and firm ideas, had never, ever, in her entire life, touched a cigarette.
Now, reaching with a shaky hand to light the smoke offered to her by the man she would learn to call 'Tim', Eleanor had the distinct feeling that something very fishy was going on. And she thought maybe, maybe, that it had something to do with the owner of the body she was in.
~
"Now, Mr. Curtis, I think your family will be fine."
Darry slumped back into the metal chair, feeling very relieved. That had been his main worry.
"Social services sees no reason to separate you, though, we do need to investigate your home place. Just to be sure…you know." The woman across from him winked, and licked her over-lipsticky lips seductively. Darry gave her a suspicious look.
"You're sure there's nothing wrong?" he asked slowly. "Cause before, they said if I got arrested it might cause problems…"
"Only for a major crime," the woman said quickly. "For these smaller matters we see no reason in causing problems." Giving him a saucy smile, the Social Service lady gently rubbed his jean-clad leg with one high- heeled foot. Darry felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.
"Uh, ok…well, when do you think Social Services would be coming to my, uh, home place?" He shifted uncomfortably, away from the lady's foot. The woman leaned forward, placing her elbows on the metal table, and batting her eyes ridiculously at him.
"Let's say…Friday? At about 7?" Darry gritted his teeth, and ordered himself to sit still, though his first instinct was to get up, and run like mad.
"Oh…ok…"
"DARLENE!" A loud voice barked. Both Darry and the woman looked up. Another woman dressed in a smart black skirt and white blouse was frowning over the tops of her glasses at the Social Service lady. "I'LL handle it from here," she said crisply. Darlene gulped, and, casting one last look at Darry, scuttled out of the room. The woman seated herself in Darlene's vacated chair and gave Darry a very stern disapproving look.
"I wasn't flirting."
The woman raised her eyebrows.
"What?"
She lowered her glasses, and snorted softly.
"I WASN'T."
After a minute, the woman gave up. "Yes, alright I believe you." Her voice carried a trace of English accent. "I apologise for my co-worker's behaviour," she nodded contemptuously at the crack in the door through which Darlene was peeking. Darlene squeaked and vanished. The woman rolled her eyes. "Most of the women in my line of work don't take it seriously."
Darry nodded mutely. Privately, he thought that it was rather odd for the women to be working anyway.
"I'm Ms. Davies, I'll be taking your case now." She offered her hand to Darry. He shook it and hesitantly asked her a question.
"Will you be coming on Friday at 7 then?"
The woman looked startled, then smiled faintly and shook her head.
"Because, if you were, you could maybe stay for dinner," Darry went on boldly. If this woman was anything at all like the first, it'd get him off the hook easily.
Ms. Davies looked startled, then gave Darry a genuine smile. "Well," she said shyly, "I might." Then she seemed to shake herself. She squared her shoulders and pushed up her glasses. "But only after I investigate your home place."
Darry swallowed and nodded. "You have the address?"
"In your file," she said, in a slightly bored tone. "Thank you, Mr. Curtis- "
"It's Darry," he said quickly.
"Thank you, MR. CURTIS, that will be all." And then, the guard was hauling Darry up and dragging him by the armpits back to the cell and a curious (and talkative) Two-Bit.
Ms. Davies collected her papers, and swiftly tucked in her chair. Then she paused. Whipping out a compact, she smoothed back her limp brown hair and frowned at her reflection. Snapping the compact shut, she strode quickly from the room – and right into Darlene.
"Isn't he handsome!" the red-haired bimbo gushed. "Oh you're so lucky – you get to go to his house!" And then Ms. Davies had to plug her ears, as Darlene let out a squeal that would wake a dead man.
~
Halfway across town, the city's surgeons were not having such good luck. After the miracle with the tow-headed teen, their electric machines had failed to do anything other than fry a few hairs on the bodies. Not even Larry Wittles or Jonathan Burgman could figure out their own project. This was causing tremendous problems for their sponsors. Seated in huge conference rooms, with large windows, the setting sun casting shadows over a broad and well polished oak table, the wealthy men scratched their heads and pondered the odd occurrence (martini's in tow). With the failure of their scientists, and the distastefulness of the subject (their bulbous noses wrinkled at the image of the young blond), there was but one remaining option.
"Dr. Burgman," said the wealthiest, snapping his fingers at the younger scientist, who scurried over, his head bowed.
"Yessir?" he asked, very timidly.
Draining his glass, the man waved a hand arrogantly through the air. "Have a Mr. Keith Matthews brought in, Dr. Burgman. And get me another martini."
Eleanor leaned back, resting her head on the pillows. She tugged the pristine white sheets around her self-consciously, watching the nurse putter around her room. She still wasn't sure that she wouldn't turn back into a girl any second and send the nurse screaming to her supervisor. The woman was trying to be nice, talking, asking questions, but Eleanor was too freaked out by her new voice to respond with more than, "Mmmm?" and an occasional sage-like nod.
There came a knock on the door, and the nurse, with a glance over to where Eleanor was, walked swiftly over to answer it. Four pairs of curious eyes glinted, and then, before the nurse could say a word about visiting hours, she was stampeded by the small crowd of excited boys. Muttering to herself about unruly boys (Eleanor secretly agreed) the nurse left, flipping off the boys' backs, in a very unladylike way.
"Oh my gosh, it's true!" The smallish one said in an awe-hushed tone.
"This is crazy!" Was the much louder opinion of what seemed (in Eleanor's mind) to be the craziest one in the bunch. The boy, though fiendishly good looking, was making faces and hopping about in such a way that made Eleanor wonder if he didn't have to go to the bathroom as badly as she had had to.
"I don't believe it." The words, slow and drawling, emerged from a greasy looking boy, with a hairstyle that must have taken hours to fix.
"Yeah, well me neither." Each boy jumped back when Eleanor spoke, and she couldn't help feeling a little irritated. She was breathing, her eyes were blinking, and they clearly knew she was alive, so why in that name of it all would they not expect her to say something?
"Whoa hey!" The tallest one there, with dark hair and dark eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, then added with a sheepish smile, "it's weird hearing that voice after so long. Good to have you back Dallas."
Eleanor snorted. "What did you call me?" she demanded, trying to ignore the way her voice cracked when she tried to speak in her normal range. Giving up, she added in a deeper tone, "do I look like a state to you?"
Again the boys seemed startled.
"Glory," murmured the nice-looking one, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I never thought…I guess his memory…"
"Dallas ain't a state anyway," the young one said absently. "But that's your name…your name is Dallas-"
"I gathered," Eleanor replied dryly. She was beginning to feel very annoyed with them. She should have known they'd just be pests. They were boys after all.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter, and gave the handsome one a look. "Well, while we're learning names, who the hell are you?" Then she almost jumped hearing herself swear. She never swore, it was uncouth, but the word just seemed to fly right out of her mouth.
The boy gave her a worried look, and stopped his obscene hopping. "Maybe we should call the doctors," he said softly, "he doesn't seem like he-"
"I said 'who the hell are you'!" Eleanor yelled suddenly. Everyone, including herself jumped again. She hadn't meant to yell it out loud, only to think it, but it appeared her mouth had other ideas.
Then the tall one grinned crookedly, and a glint came to his eyes. He looked, actually, fairly mean, as she noticed now. She was beginning to regret having yelled.
But he only laughed, and shook his head. "Aww, he'll be fine. Seems quite himself actually." Then he laughed again, sending chills down her spine.
'God, you're creepy,' she thought, and then suddenly she was saying it.
'Damn,' she thought furiously as the boys exchanged more looks. Then she shook herself, realising she'd sworn yet again. Apparently she now had no more control of her mouth than any other ruddy, dipstick boy did. Rubbing her eyes, she felt a sudden fierce desire inside her, growing steadily in a dull throb until it formed a clear and almost desperate sentence in her mind:
"I want a cigarette."
Eleanor, with her strong morals and firm ideas, had never, ever, in her entire life, touched a cigarette.
Now, reaching with a shaky hand to light the smoke offered to her by the man she would learn to call 'Tim', Eleanor had the distinct feeling that something very fishy was going on. And she thought maybe, maybe, that it had something to do with the owner of the body she was in.
~
"Now, Mr. Curtis, I think your family will be fine."
Darry slumped back into the metal chair, feeling very relieved. That had been his main worry.
"Social services sees no reason to separate you, though, we do need to investigate your home place. Just to be sure…you know." The woman across from him winked, and licked her over-lipsticky lips seductively. Darry gave her a suspicious look.
"You're sure there's nothing wrong?" he asked slowly. "Cause before, they said if I got arrested it might cause problems…"
"Only for a major crime," the woman said quickly. "For these smaller matters we see no reason in causing problems." Giving him a saucy smile, the Social Service lady gently rubbed his jean-clad leg with one high- heeled foot. Darry felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.
"Uh, ok…well, when do you think Social Services would be coming to my, uh, home place?" He shifted uncomfortably, away from the lady's foot. The woman leaned forward, placing her elbows on the metal table, and batting her eyes ridiculously at him.
"Let's say…Friday? At about 7?" Darry gritted his teeth, and ordered himself to sit still, though his first instinct was to get up, and run like mad.
"Oh…ok…"
"DARLENE!" A loud voice barked. Both Darry and the woman looked up. Another woman dressed in a smart black skirt and white blouse was frowning over the tops of her glasses at the Social Service lady. "I'LL handle it from here," she said crisply. Darlene gulped, and, casting one last look at Darry, scuttled out of the room. The woman seated herself in Darlene's vacated chair and gave Darry a very stern disapproving look.
"I wasn't flirting."
The woman raised her eyebrows.
"What?"
She lowered her glasses, and snorted softly.
"I WASN'T."
After a minute, the woman gave up. "Yes, alright I believe you." Her voice carried a trace of English accent. "I apologise for my co-worker's behaviour," she nodded contemptuously at the crack in the door through which Darlene was peeking. Darlene squeaked and vanished. The woman rolled her eyes. "Most of the women in my line of work don't take it seriously."
Darry nodded mutely. Privately, he thought that it was rather odd for the women to be working anyway.
"I'm Ms. Davies, I'll be taking your case now." She offered her hand to Darry. He shook it and hesitantly asked her a question.
"Will you be coming on Friday at 7 then?"
The woman looked startled, then smiled faintly and shook her head.
"Because, if you were, you could maybe stay for dinner," Darry went on boldly. If this woman was anything at all like the first, it'd get him off the hook easily.
Ms. Davies looked startled, then gave Darry a genuine smile. "Well," she said shyly, "I might." Then she seemed to shake herself. She squared her shoulders and pushed up her glasses. "But only after I investigate your home place."
Darry swallowed and nodded. "You have the address?"
"In your file," she said, in a slightly bored tone. "Thank you, Mr. Curtis- "
"It's Darry," he said quickly.
"Thank you, MR. CURTIS, that will be all." And then, the guard was hauling Darry up and dragging him by the armpits back to the cell and a curious (and talkative) Two-Bit.
Ms. Davies collected her papers, and swiftly tucked in her chair. Then she paused. Whipping out a compact, she smoothed back her limp brown hair and frowned at her reflection. Snapping the compact shut, she strode quickly from the room – and right into Darlene.
"Isn't he handsome!" the red-haired bimbo gushed. "Oh you're so lucky – you get to go to his house!" And then Ms. Davies had to plug her ears, as Darlene let out a squeal that would wake a dead man.
~
Halfway across town, the city's surgeons were not having such good luck. After the miracle with the tow-headed teen, their electric machines had failed to do anything other than fry a few hairs on the bodies. Not even Larry Wittles or Jonathan Burgman could figure out their own project. This was causing tremendous problems for their sponsors. Seated in huge conference rooms, with large windows, the setting sun casting shadows over a broad and well polished oak table, the wealthy men scratched their heads and pondered the odd occurrence (martini's in tow). With the failure of their scientists, and the distastefulness of the subject (their bulbous noses wrinkled at the image of the young blond), there was but one remaining option.
"Dr. Burgman," said the wealthiest, snapping his fingers at the younger scientist, who scurried over, his head bowed.
"Yessir?" he asked, very timidly.
Draining his glass, the man waved a hand arrogantly through the air. "Have a Mr. Keith Matthews brought in, Dr. Burgman. And get me another martini."