Chapter Six:
"Abnormal, he says. Abnormal! The blue psycho centaur who hangs out with talking birds and kids who turn into animals, who fights alien slugs, and whose hooves start to drool at the mention of Cinnabon! He takes one look at my hair, and says, 'abnormal'?" I glared at Ax.
"Found it," Cassie reported, emerging from Ax's scoop. She grinned mischievously. Her finger was marking a particular place in the book she was holding. "'Abb-NOR-mull. Adjective. Not typical, usual, or regular; not normal; deviant.' That's what it says."
"Sorry, Rachel," Jake smirked. "The dictionary has spoken. Your hair is abnormal."
"Forget the definition, let's get to the good stuff!" Marco snatched the book away from Cassie, and flipped to the back. "Thesaurus section, thesaurus section. Heeeeeeere we go," he announced, scanning the page. "Bizarre, eccentric, funny, gross, odd, screwy, strange, unnatural, unusual!" He laughed. "That pretty much sums it up."
I groaned. "It's Saint Patrick's Day, for crying out loud! Can't I do anything around here without provoking ridicule?"
"Nope," Marco said.
I like it, Tobias said.
Indeed, Ax agreed. While it's different, I don't find the artificial coloration of your hair unpleasant. It reminds me of the plumage of a certain sub-species of feathered serpent from the Hork-Bajir homeworld.
"Great," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. "I remind Ax of a snake."
It was Wednesday. St. Patrick's day. School had let out a little early, mostly because the teacher's couldn't keep the kids in their seats. I had caused quite a stir all day by dying the bottom four inches of my hair a bright, vibrant green. And it looked great, just for the record.
A very attractive snake, Ax amended.
"Oh, well. Okay then."
Thus far, it had been a pretty good day. We had a plan to stop Jordan from going to the party, I had been admired by the whole school all morning, and I had demonstrated that I wasn't scared. Things were flowing pretty smoothly. As long as life didn't throw in any monkey wrenches at this point, I figured I was in the clear for a little while.
Plus, Tobias liked my hair, and that never hurt. No matter how many jocks, geeks, and herd members at school uttered clumsy compliments, none of them meant as much as Tobias's understated approval.
Oh, yeah. It was a good day, all right.
"That's right, Rachel," Marco said. "With that hair, you're comparable to a good-looking alien snake. Congratulations."
"Thanks," I snorted.
You know the color will be gone the first time you morph, Tobias said.
"Yeah," I nodded. "That's why I used permanent dye and got this great color."
Cassie looked startled. "Does your mom know you used that permanent dye?"
My mom has this little thing about permanent hair dye. Little, as in she'd flip out big time if I actually died my hair with anything that didn't wash out in the next shower. And, in general, I have to agree with her. Unless you're really sure it's going to work, dying your hair is just generally not a good idea. Especially not for natural blondes.
"It's not really permanent," I smiled. "I mean, yeah, it's permanent dye, but it's totally gone as soon as I want it to be. Like Tobias said, I just have to morph out."
Is there some problem with permanent dye?
"Permanent means that she looks that way forever, Ax. Trapped, with her hair looking . . . " Marco paused, consulting Ax's thesaurus again, " . . . weird, weirdo, offbeat, and mutant."
"Marco," I said menacingly, "give me that book. Give it!" I leapt at him, attempting to wrestle the dictionary from his hands.
The others watched us, smiling. I tugged on Marco's short hair.
"Hand it over!"
"No!"
"Now!"
Instead of complying, Marco staggered back and craned his neck up and to the left. "What was that?" he gasped dramatically.
"Oh, no, you don't," I snorted. "I'm not falling for that. Give me the thesaurus!"
"No, seriously!" he protested, relinquishing the volume and standing. "Look!" He pointed. We looked.
In the air above us was a spaceship. A very small space ship. Maybe one foot long. It was hovering. And there was a certain something about it, which was hard to put my finger on. A certain . . .
That ship has an attitude, Tobias commented.
That was the word.
"Is anyone else getting a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach?" Marco asked. "Maybe associated with the word 'Helmacron'?"
About these Helmacrons. The little creeps are, maybe, a sixteenth of an inch high, but they've got egos the size of Utah.
No, bigger than that. They're more full of themselves than Marco.
The Helmacrons are pretty much convinced that they run the universe. Which is fine, I guess, as long as they don't actually try to do anything with it. The last time we met them, they proved very, very irritating.
Irritating as in, we all came pretty close to death while trying to deal with them. That's irritating. Anybody who places me in a life-or-death situation just pretty much gets on my nerves.
I dunno. Maybe I'm touchy.
As puny as these Helmacrons are, they have some seriously advanced technology. Their big surprise for an unsuspecting enemy is this shrinking ray. Seems the Helmacrons like an even playing field. They push a button and, bam, a cockroach is the size of the Chrysler building. Not cool.
I looked up at the little ship as it thrummed above us. There was a chance it might be some *other* small, aggressive, death's-head-bridged ship, piloted by another species of tiny aliens.
Horrifically bloated alien beings! a thoughtspeech voice proclaimed. Cower and grovel before your conquerors, your lords and masters! We have returned, and you shall know the full might of our wrath soon enough! Beg for your lives while you still have them, and we will only humiliate you for a short while before we kill you!
Or not.
"Oh, yeah," Jake said, glaring at the miniature ship. "I've got that sinking feeling, Marco."
"Abnormal, he says. Abnormal! The blue psycho centaur who hangs out with talking birds and kids who turn into animals, who fights alien slugs, and whose hooves start to drool at the mention of Cinnabon! He takes one look at my hair, and says, 'abnormal'?" I glared at Ax.
"Found it," Cassie reported, emerging from Ax's scoop. She grinned mischievously. Her finger was marking a particular place in the book she was holding. "'Abb-NOR-mull. Adjective. Not typical, usual, or regular; not normal; deviant.' That's what it says."
"Sorry, Rachel," Jake smirked. "The dictionary has spoken. Your hair is abnormal."
"Forget the definition, let's get to the good stuff!" Marco snatched the book away from Cassie, and flipped to the back. "Thesaurus section, thesaurus section. Heeeeeeere we go," he announced, scanning the page. "Bizarre, eccentric, funny, gross, odd, screwy, strange, unnatural, unusual!" He laughed. "That pretty much sums it up."
I groaned. "It's Saint Patrick's Day, for crying out loud! Can't I do anything around here without provoking ridicule?"
"Nope," Marco said.
I like it, Tobias said.
Indeed, Ax agreed. While it's different, I don't find the artificial coloration of your hair unpleasant. It reminds me of the plumage of a certain sub-species of feathered serpent from the Hork-Bajir homeworld.
"Great," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. "I remind Ax of a snake."
It was Wednesday. St. Patrick's day. School had let out a little early, mostly because the teacher's couldn't keep the kids in their seats. I had caused quite a stir all day by dying the bottom four inches of my hair a bright, vibrant green. And it looked great, just for the record.
A very attractive snake, Ax amended.
"Oh, well. Okay then."
Thus far, it had been a pretty good day. We had a plan to stop Jordan from going to the party, I had been admired by the whole school all morning, and I had demonstrated that I wasn't scared. Things were flowing pretty smoothly. As long as life didn't throw in any monkey wrenches at this point, I figured I was in the clear for a little while.
Plus, Tobias liked my hair, and that never hurt. No matter how many jocks, geeks, and herd members at school uttered clumsy compliments, none of them meant as much as Tobias's understated approval.
Oh, yeah. It was a good day, all right.
"That's right, Rachel," Marco said. "With that hair, you're comparable to a good-looking alien snake. Congratulations."
"Thanks," I snorted.
You know the color will be gone the first time you morph, Tobias said.
"Yeah," I nodded. "That's why I used permanent dye and got this great color."
Cassie looked startled. "Does your mom know you used that permanent dye?"
My mom has this little thing about permanent hair dye. Little, as in she'd flip out big time if I actually died my hair with anything that didn't wash out in the next shower. And, in general, I have to agree with her. Unless you're really sure it's going to work, dying your hair is just generally not a good idea. Especially not for natural blondes.
"It's not really permanent," I smiled. "I mean, yeah, it's permanent dye, but it's totally gone as soon as I want it to be. Like Tobias said, I just have to morph out."
Is there some problem with permanent dye?
"Permanent means that she looks that way forever, Ax. Trapped, with her hair looking . . . " Marco paused, consulting Ax's thesaurus again, " . . . weird, weirdo, offbeat, and mutant."
"Marco," I said menacingly, "give me that book. Give it!" I leapt at him, attempting to wrestle the dictionary from his hands.
The others watched us, smiling. I tugged on Marco's short hair.
"Hand it over!"
"No!"
"Now!"
Instead of complying, Marco staggered back and craned his neck up and to the left. "What was that?" he gasped dramatically.
"Oh, no, you don't," I snorted. "I'm not falling for that. Give me the thesaurus!"
"No, seriously!" he protested, relinquishing the volume and standing. "Look!" He pointed. We looked.
In the air above us was a spaceship. A very small space ship. Maybe one foot long. It was hovering. And there was a certain something about it, which was hard to put my finger on. A certain . . .
That ship has an attitude, Tobias commented.
That was the word.
"Is anyone else getting a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach?" Marco asked. "Maybe associated with the word 'Helmacron'?"
About these Helmacrons. The little creeps are, maybe, a sixteenth of an inch high, but they've got egos the size of Utah.
No, bigger than that. They're more full of themselves than Marco.
The Helmacrons are pretty much convinced that they run the universe. Which is fine, I guess, as long as they don't actually try to do anything with it. The last time we met them, they proved very, very irritating.
Irritating as in, we all came pretty close to death while trying to deal with them. That's irritating. Anybody who places me in a life-or-death situation just pretty much gets on my nerves.
I dunno. Maybe I'm touchy.
As puny as these Helmacrons are, they have some seriously advanced technology. Their big surprise for an unsuspecting enemy is this shrinking ray. Seems the Helmacrons like an even playing field. They push a button and, bam, a cockroach is the size of the Chrysler building. Not cool.
I looked up at the little ship as it thrummed above us. There was a chance it might be some *other* small, aggressive, death's-head-bridged ship, piloted by another species of tiny aliens.
Horrifically bloated alien beings! a thoughtspeech voice proclaimed. Cower and grovel before your conquerors, your lords and masters! We have returned, and you shall know the full might of our wrath soon enough! Beg for your lives while you still have them, and we will only humiliate you for a short while before we kill you!
Or not.
"Oh, yeah," Jake said, glaring at the miniature ship. "I've got that sinking feeling, Marco."