FrogPrince: august 30. brb.

Todd turned from his computer and tread carefully to the door. He went to the hall closet to pull out the 'free sample' that the Brotherhood had liberated from the vacuum salesman with the misfortune of being assigned to the territory.
Pietro hazarded a peek at the unheard-of sounds of a Hoover coming from the room next to his. His eyes bugged at the sight of Todd behind the handle. The boy was grimacing as if it was sucking up a piece of his very soul along with every dustbunny. Every so often the crackle of glass and random small objects would sound off. Todd went over every place he could think of which was remarkably close to Sara's prediction.
Seeing that not very much dirt was traumatized out of place by Todd's cleaning, Pietro got bored with the miracle and went back to lying down.

FrogPrince: Done! pant
FrogPrince: you were asking how much I drink when I'm shedding?
FrogPrince: those are some high numbers. Probly about a Gut Bomb supersize cup every hour. I gotta take a bottle to school and fill up in the sink when I can. I'd turn to dust by the time that water fountain pumped out half of what I needed.
The Tallest: Considering that half the fountains at school are either leaky faucets or hoses.
The Tallest: So I should bring water and water holder. Check. What do I do with the um... stuff. That comes off?

Todd bit his lip.

FrogPrince: Usually the shedding happens in a set of three to five days. One day, usually in the middle, is when the biggest pieces start comin' off. That you wanna stay home for and generally avoid public. That's when the face starts peelin'. The days before and after are for smaller pieces and pieces that generally take longer because they're not stretched as much.

There was a pause in which Todd hoped he hadn't completely disgusted her. He hadn't even really told her about the doctor's theory of scales yet.

Sara had refilled her giant cup with water and slugged a generous gulp down before replying.

TheTallest: Sounds like all the fun of menstruation without any of the social acceptance.
TheTallest: Though skin peelage shouldn't involve cramping... right?
FrogPrince: (blush) Er... wouldn't know. Honest. I ain't never got no cramps, yo. But I never got skin that changes.
TheTallest: Sorry about that. The whole five days thing got me cross- connected. Shan't elaborate.
TheTallest: Grammar!Nit - "haven't ever", dear.
FrogPrince: Yo, grammar ain't my style.
TheTallest: Had mine beaten into me. Much fun. Not.

Todd stared at the words on the screen.

FrogPrince: Uh. You don't mean literally do you?
TheTallest: No, thank the Gods above and below... Harshest punishment was writing the rules longhand as lines. For hours.
TheTallest: Being bored is the biggest plague ever. Was much encouraged to learn well and learn fast.
FrogPrince: That gale outside is me sighin' with relief, yo.

Sara giggled, sipping water. She opened up a side-window and sought out the place that sold her undertow mug.

TheTallest: LOL. You're cute when you worry so.

"I'm cute?" Todd boggled.

TheTallest: But I'm hardly worth the fuss. I don't actually do anything merit-worthy.
FrogPrince: You're Fred's study-buddy right?
FrogPrince: Don't that mean you helped him pass?
TheTallest: "Doesn't"
TheTallest: True. But one hardly gains awards for helping people pass.
FrogPrince: Awards, schmawards. You did a good thing. Be proud.

"Not in my nature, alas," said Sara. She alternated between chatting and clicking in an order for an appropriately froggy undertow mug for Todd.

TheTallest: Sorry, I'm pathalogically incapable (g)
TheTallest: Ugh. I think I'm sweating under the old skin. Ew. I feel all - squishy.
FrogPrince: It's cool. Don't pop 'em. Let it ride. U should start some small peeling 2morrow.
TheTallest: O joy unbounded (/sarcasm)
FrogPrince: Know the feeling 2 well, babe. Pie keeps telling me I'm getting warts.
TheTallest: Pie? U have a talking savoury?
FrogPrince: LOL! Short for Pietro. He's an asshole and I can't ignore him 'cause he lives here.
TheTallest: Launder his smalls with Ben Gay.

Todd roared laughing, and noticed the time. Eleven already? Yow.

FrogPrince: Just my kind of evil. Watch for future bruising
FrogPrince: It's much late 4 me. Must go to bed if I want to fake awareness 2morrow.
TheTallest: It's cool. I have a small project to do NEway.
FrogPrince: School Project?
TheTallest: Personal finance. Check my site in the AM.
TheTallest: And go to bed. I know not everyone is a terminal insomniac like me.
FrogPrince: Goodnight sweetheart.

"Sweetheart," Sara echoed. "Goodnight," she whispered, and kissed the little window.

TheTallest: CU 2morrow, dear.

Todd smiled and traced a little heart on the screen with his finger. She had logged off, leaving nobody but himself and Big Blue.

FrogPrince: Thanks for everything, doc. Sorry i gave u the bums rush.
Big Blue: Np. Kids in love do that. Happens to me like u would not believe.
FrogPrince: Got kids? O.o;
Big Blue: Not my own.
Big Blue: Brat! What was that face for?
FrogPrince: Meep hides nothing!!!
Big Blue: Lol. Go 2 bed. U are usually asleep around this time.
FrogPrince: My girl's feeling slightly better now. Knows what to xpect. S'all good. So i could go 2 bed.
Big Blue: Worry?
FrogPrince: Sorta. :/ And I am gonna have trouble sleeping.

Todd told him about what had happened to his window.

Big Blue: Not good. U need xtra blankets? Know a place you can get them for cheap. Almost nothing.
Frog Prince: Nah, i got a couple nice ones - knitted an' heavy. Anywayz, g'night.
Big Blue: Night then, sleep well

He logged out of AIM and saved the conversation he'd had with Sara. Frankie froze up at the request to go into standby mode, so Todd had to resort to a ctrlaltdel command to turn the computer off. The boy stretched, grabbed the blankets and pillow off his bed, and trudged downstairs to make up his bed on the couch.
Todd burrowed under the blankets and curled around himself until the cool air between the cushions and coverings became filled with trapped body heat. It wasn't a quick occurence so Todd lay awake thinking about what the scales would look like and whether or not Cerebro would pick them up. The latter thought made his stomach do unpleasant things.
He didn't want her to believe she had to dislike him. He didn't want her to be pressured to give him up.
No way in hell, Sara's voice in his head assured him. I'll love you no matter what.
Todd wished with all his might it was real.
He closed his eyes finally and dreamt of a woman with snakes in her hair, flaring nostrils and beady red eyes who Sara introduced to him as his mother-in-law.
Sara was reciting something with her eyes downcast and filled with tears. She looked miserable. Todd kept trying to tell her that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. Her mother's snake-hair hissed at him. She took out a yardstick and struck him across the shoulders every time he spoke out of turn.
She belittled, degraded, ridiculed him. Made Sara recite the same words after her. Sara cried at each one. Todd grit his teeth and spat slime over the woman's mouth to silence her. Butterflies flew from his throat instead of gunk and they flurried around her face like dandelion fluff. She smiled horribly and Todd knew he had to run. He reached for Sara's hand only to have her pulled back and away by an unseen force. Todd ran after her.
How he ran.
His heart hammering in his chest, Todd whimpered himself awake to find tears on his face. He didn't wonder at the cause. He was afraid. The wide and unfamiliar space of the living room cast in total darkness did not help.
Todd turned over on his side and buried his face in his arms as the storm outside continued to howl.

Sara was still awake by the time Todd was fast asleep and dreaming. So far, her animation had stock sounds and music. She'd do some composing in the morning. The need to sleep finally overtook her around two AM, and it was just a complicated wiggle and a step to the niche in the bookcases that sufficed as her bed.
For the first time in her life, she stripped to her underwear and did not slip her nightshirt on. Her skin was prickling and prone to itching at the faintest contact from fabric, so she doused herself liberally in calamine and flopped stomach-down onto her bed.
She dreamed of waking to discover her eyes were capable of moving independantly, and that she could spear bugs with her tongue. Her dream- self even snapped up small birds(1), much to her personal horror. And always, Mom was there, lecturing her on how proper ladies would never be such exhibitionists about eating live birds. She suggested eating a frog instead, since the world could do with less of them.
But every time she looked at a frog, the poor creature turned into Todd. He'd look up at her as he perched on his lilly pad and say, "Don't listen to her, sweetums. She's trying to poison you."
Somewhere along the way, she turned into a snake, and itched to bite someone.
She felt moderately like hell when she woke up. The rash-lumps had spread, creeping around to the front. Her back was no longer itchy, but it was irritable. Extremely sensitive to the touch and it felt like it had something stuck in it.
Several billion small somethings, to be precise.
It was worse than the time Pamela Anderson(2) accidentally-on-purpose pushed her through the glass wall at the conservatory at Babel Towers. She was finding infitessimal pieces of glass for ages afterwards. This was worse because somewhere inside her, she knew that this irritation couldn't be plucked out with tweezers.
She winced at the touch of a bathrobe and snuck out to her little eastern balcony. At the first touch of the dawn's light, she let robe, bra, and underpants drop and, very soflty, began to sing.
"Lalalala, lalala, lalala, lalalalalalalow...Good morning starshine, The earth says hello... You twinkle above us, We twinkle below. Good morning starshine... You lead us along, My love and me as we sing, Our early morning singing song..."
The sun always made her feel so much better. Especially the fresh new light of the new day. She washed herself in the light, dancing gently to the music in her head.
The song, like all good things, ended far too soon and she quickly became self-conscious. What if someone caught her doing this? What if Mom found out? What if the help knew?
Sara flew into her robe and stuffed her underthings into a pocket. She quickly tied the sash and bolted for her room. Yesterday's clothes went into the laundry hamper, and she riffled through her T-shirt collection for today's wear. Something kind to tender anatomy, for certain.
Ah yes. Her "Free the Thylacine" test-shirt. One hundred percent pure, non-allergenic cotton, and soft from multiple washings so it didn't irritate.
The rash was going to be trouble, she was sure. It had crept onto her face. Looks like we might be on the fast-track, dear. She could claim an allergic reaction today, and hide at the boarding house tomorrow. Lord knew she'd given herself enough days off by borrowing her mother's voice.
Mother-dearest did have the opinion that not a single day's worth of education should be wasted. She'd sent Sara to school with chicken pox, measles, and even the mumps.
It was Sara's own fault for being something of a dab hand with makeup effects. One home zombie movie and one's sick days were forever revoked.
Large Evian bottle, check. Books, check. Emergency supplies, check. Her bag was packed, and it was barely past five.
Sara toured down to the kitchens and rustled up breakfast for herself, mother, and the help. She wasn't much, but at least she could be useful. A little artful arrangement, and she had a tray for Mom. She was always quieter than a mouse when she entered her mother's chamber. A sort of ninja mission to deliver a covert gift.
If Mom ever knew that Sara cooked her breakfasts, she'd never eat them.
Sara hurried back to the kitchens so she could chat with the house's servants about this or that. She even asked if they knew what could cause such a horrible allergic reaction in her skin.
She barely remembered to be careful about her thirst.
Mother came down with her face submerged in her coffee mug. "I trust you found time to do your homework?"
In under five minutes, total. "Of course, Mom. Would you like to check it?"
"It's too early for that sort of thing," sniped mother. "People awake at this ungodly hour are only there for the people who wake up later."
Sara shared a nonverbal I'm-sorry with the help.
Mom refreshed her coffee and stumbled back upstairs. The staff breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Almost time for you to go, ma'am," said Ray. He sounded mournful. "You know your bike has trouble starting in the mornings."
"And that's with the blankie," Sara sighed. "Don't worry about Mom. She's just angry at the world. As soon as I move out, she'll feel better."
"If you say so, ma'am," said Ray.
It was too soon. She wanted to stay home longer. But she had to go to school regardless of how self-conscious she was about her bubbling rash.
Another day, another dead rat. This one smelled of almonds, so it was a safe guess that it had been poisoned. Five seconds and a rubber glove saw it into the bin.
Her eyes itched and watered.
"Thara, Thara, plain and tall..."
Oh Gods... "Janine... could you - not do that?" Ack. Rubbing them made them worse.
"Whoah. It's jutht a joke... I didn't know you were thith thin thkinned."
"Nah. I'm allergic to something. My eyes are giving me gyp. Oog." She forced herself not to rub. "I take it your orthadontist was mean to you?"
"New plate, threatening headgear, three more rubber bandth... do you know what you're allergic to? Could it be boyth?"
"I'm thinking I might be allergic to this school," said Sara, knowing she wasn't going to be heard. "I just feel so rotten."
"I told you thingth go wrong when you thwallow thperm..."
Sara scrunched her eyes shut. "That's an urban myth, dear." When she opened them, and blinked past the tears, Janine was gone.
Someone was shrieking with laughter down the hall.
Apparently, the rumour mill was grinding away.
"Todd, dear," she murmured, "please come by?" Slowly, and very dejectedly, she made her way to morning assembly.

(1) Large enough chameleons will eat small birds.
(2) No relation