Chapter 2 - Teenage Mutant Nervy Cheer Squad
(...the streets of Middleton...twenty minutes later...)
It had been a quiet drive back to town for the squad. There was no problem contacting help. Wade was able to contact a roadside service for assistance. The bus had been towed on the back of a truck. There obviously wasn't enough room for everyone in the vehicle, so they had to ride shotgun...on the bus.
Ron looks at the girls. Not a one of them wore a pleasant look. Whether it was because of him or the situation, he was afraid to say. His eyes fix on Tara. She stares out the window, her head in her hands. It almost seemed like she was flirting with him by the fire. Maybe she...nah. She was just being nice. No way a sweet girl like her could ever go for a goof-off like him. Besides, given some of what he's found out from snatches of conversation by people who have heard things, she's unavailable...in a sense.
A big bump in the road interrupts Ron's lament. He opens his mouth to offer a bit of levity, but closes it just as quickly. In his life, the young man has seldom not known a time for humor (except for funerals, obviously), but he couldn't really think of anything to say.
(...outside the Stoppable home...thirty minutes later...)
The last stop. The other girls had been dropped off at their houses, and, for some reason, Mr. Barkin had asked to get off at Middleton Park...a good twelve miles from his home. They were all pretty tired. The night's events must've been too much for them.
The doors of the bus open. Given that the vehicle was still hitched up, Ron had to jump for it. He lands on his feet and makes his way to the door.
He had a feeling that his parents would be worried about him. He quietly puts his key in the lock and turns it. The door opens and the boy walks inside.
(...Ron's bedroom...moments later...)
Rufus squirms out of his owner's pants pocket and scampers to the dresser. Ron strips down to his undershirt and boxers and slips into bed. Never has it felt more comfortable. After the night's weirdness, he needs some relaxation. He had a feeling that the girls were having a good sleep, as well. He pulls the covers over him and closes his eyes. Rufus finds a spot at the end of the bed and rests. Luckily for him, Ron was a sound sleeper.
Unfortunately for him, this is but the beginning of the nightmare.
The calm before the storm.
The oscillation unit pre-fecal matter.
(...all over Middleton...)
Pale (and, in some cases, tanned and dark) skin takes on a green coloring. Beautifully filed and styled nails sharpen into claws. Webbing develops in-between painted toes and fingers. Gills form upon once dainty, blemish-free necks. Faces are distorted by puffed-up lips and bulging red eyes. Cute noses flatten to near-nothingness. Slime starts forming on young bodies.
(...Middleton High...Thursday morning...)
The ladies' bathroom. As you'd expect, there are a number of girls crowded around the expansive vanity mirror. This is how it is, sometimes; women trying to see how pretty they are to get through the day. Here, however, the situation is somewhat inverted.
For one thing, it's about 7:00 in the morning. Students don't usually arrive until about a quarter to eight...unless it's for yearbook staff - 7:30. For another thing, all the girls are cheerleaders. And for one more thing, they're trying to see just how ugly they are.
Gill warned that contact with his muck would change them into mutants. The young women gaze in horror at what's happened to them. As one would expect, they aren't taking the situation very well.
"Aaagh! This used to be my good side!", cries out the monstrosity formerly known as Bonnie. Her face was green, her lips puffed out, and her now-red eyes shimmering with tears.
"Looks like it still is." Kim was similarly affected, but who could resist such an easy set-up?
Bonnie turns toward Kim, her eyes narrow. Flashing fang-like teeth, she leaps at her long-time rival. The redhead is pinned to the ground; the attack clearly took her by surprise. The brunette swipes at Kim with her claws.
"If it wasn't for your freaky friend, we wouldn't all be freaks!", she roars - literally - between swipes.
Tara tries to pull Bonnie away from the fight. "Bonnie, this isn't the time to point fingers...uh, claws."
Kim gets up and dusts herself off. "Tara's right. We need to work on finding a way out of this mess." She pulls out the Kimmunicator, which drips with slime. She groans a little as she turns it on.
Wade appears on the screen. "Hey, Ki--whoa!" The boy genius nearly falls out of his chair. "Bad time at the competition?"
"Don't ask. Any chance of getting in contact with anyone experienced in radical genetics?" Kim leans against the wall.
The boy genius reacts with a speedy clattering of fingers against keyboard. The unfortunate look of disappointment twists his features. "Bad news."
"Not really what I want to hear."
"All of the world's leading geneticists are busy."
"With what?"
"The articles I just pulled from the net all say the same thing: 'the find of the century'. It's hard to say when they'll be available."
Kim sinks to the ground. "Perfect."
"Wait. Isn't there, like, some kind of hologram thingy that could help us out here? You know, disguise us?", inquires Hope.
"That's the stuff of movies. We're a good two years away from that kind of technology", the boy genius replies.
Bonnie fumes. "So, in other words, we're screwed."
Wade rubs the back of his head. "That's another way to put it, yeah."
Kim's eyes widen. "Wait. Do you think there's a way for us to get some kind of covering?"
"I might be able to work something out."
(...Ron's bedroom...)
The blonde teen lies on the bed. His hands and feet hang akimbo from under the sheets. His computer screen switches on. Ron turns over and smacks his lips.
A window pops up. Wade appears on the screen.
"Ron?"
"But I wasn't finished with those crab cakes..."
"Ron!"
The teen rolls over and falls out of bed. The shock wakes him up.
"Ron!"
"Wade?"
"Ron. The squad needs your help."
"I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt that me and the squad and Mr. Barkin were at Camp Wannaweep, and this crazy dude I went to camp with was a horrible mutant who led us there."
Wade shakes his head a little. "I hate to tell you this, Mad Dog, but..."
Another window pops up. On it are the mutated remains of the Middleton cheer squad. Not a one of them looks very happy.
"Oh, my goodness." Ron gazes in wonder. "Look at how clean the girl's room is. Why can't the boy's room be that nice?"
"Ron...!" Wade sounds agitated.
"It does look nice, though."
"Indeed it does, but the squad needs you."
The boy yawns a little. "What do I need to do?"
(...the girl's bathroom...twenty-five minutes later...)
The squad members stand around with hands folded and sour expressions. Tired of the silence, Bonnie throws her hands up in frustration. "How long do we have to wait here?"
As if to answer her question, a knock at the door cuts her off.
(...outside the girl's bathroom...)
Ron stands at the door. In his outstretched hands are several cloaks. The door cracks open and a pair of slimy, clawed hands takes the garments inside.
The young man stands outside the room for a number of minutes until...
"I feel ridiculous." Liz is the first one out.
"Are you sure about that?", Marcella states.
"Okay. More ridiculous."
"I just hope no one notices us." Crystal takes a cautionary glance around the hallway.
Maggie puts her hand to Crystal's mouth. "Sssshhhh! You want to jinx it?"
"This is the ugliest thing I've ever worn, and my mom dragged me to a '70s dance." Bonnie is clearly enjoying this.
"I think it's all right. It's kind of like an old-fashioned cloaking device." Tara giggles, garnering a surprised expression from Ron and an annoyed one from Bonnie.
"I don't know how I'm explaining this to my parents." Hope groans a little. "I had to sneak out this morning."
The crowd of girls erupts with cries of "We all did".
Kim is the last girl to emerge from the latrine. "All right. We're going to be like this for...I'm not sure how long, but the important thing is to make the best of it."
The girls grab the hoods and put them on.
Tara raises her hand. "Wait. Sooner or later, someone is going to ask about the cloaks. What do we do then?"
Ron rubs his chin. "I have an idea."
(...the halls of Middleton High...thirty minutes later...)
Several cloaked figures pass by the students. One of the teens - a serious-minded type - closes his locker and gawks at the mysterious persons. "Now what in the world is going on here?"
A tall, somewhat gangly young man walks beside him. "Well, Ed, I'd say it looks like we're being visited."
"I can see that, Tom, but by who?"
A fancily-attired girl joins the duo. "Can't you see the cloaks? It's obviously a brotherhood."
Ed stares in great disbelief. "Brotherhood?"
"Sure. They must be visiting to see how an American high school works."
"Don't be ridiculous, Eve." Tom points at the passers-by. "That's no brotherhood."
"Thank you."
Tom takes a whiff. "Can't you smell that perfume? It must be a sisterhood."
"Sisterhood? Oh, for crying--"
Eve cuts him off. "That sounds so interesting. I don't think I've ever met any female monks."
Ed lets out an annoyed sigh. He was obviously used to this.
(...further down the hall...)
One of the figures is bent over at a drinking fountain. A student of considerable size passes by. As his foot catches the back of the cloak, his cell phone rings. The girl underneath doesn't seem to notice. The young man takes out the device. "Talk to me. Of course, we're still on for tonight. There's nothing I love more than staying in and watching Canadian tax-shelter horror movies with you. Right. I'll see you." The girl finally notices that her cloak is stuck. The young man moves his foot for a moment, then puts it back down. "Love you, too."
She tries to pull away. The student pockets his phone and shifts his foot. The cloaked girl sails down the hall. Her garment gets caught on an open locker. The door clangs with the force of the material attached...but is all but forgotten by the sight of the person underneath: Crystal.
All eyes are on her, all mouths are hanging open. The magenta-haired girl is just as paralyzed by exposure as everyone else is by her. She gulps a little and moves her lips. "Well, this is awkward."
(...all over Middleton High...)
News of the cloaked figures spreads fast and furious in the school. In hallways, classrooms and even restrooms, hoods are whipped off and mutated cheerleaders are revealed. Along with it are cries and catcalls of "Fish face!", "Freako!" and "Hey, you!" Okay, so they're not the most imaginative bunch.
(...outside a classroom...about an hour later...)
The bell rings. Ron walks out of the room, a smile on his face. He doesn't make it three steps when...
A pair of slimy hands slams him into a locker. The squad scowls at him. So much for his good mood. Each of the girls is holding their cloak under one arm. Bonnie is the first to step forward.
"You and your 'traveling brotherhood' scheme! I'll never be able to show my face again!"
"Well, actually, you might if a cure is found..." Her eyes narrow. "Yeah, never mind."
The girls throw their cloaks at him, burying him. He pops up from the burlap pile. All the girls are walking away. Well, almost all...
"Kim!" He reaches out his arms, ready to hug. "You stayed."
The red-head puts her hands up. "Ron...I don't think I can look at you right now."
"But, KP...!" She tosses her cloak over him and walks off.
(...the cafeteria...hours later...)
With a tray full of...something or other, Ron makes his way around the room, in search of a seat. The usual air of indifference is mixed in with a number of cutting glances. If looks could kill, these people could qualify as professional assassins.
The young man sits at an empty table. His best friend Kim usually sat with him. His so-called best friend. Granted, the girls could perform double duties as cheerleaders and mascots without costumes, but this was his hour of need, too. Where could she be?
(...the pool...)
The basement of the school is notable for its boiler room and its swimming pool. The shimmering of the water is disturbed by several greenish bodies. One of them surfaces.
"Man, this is just what I needed." Kim spits out a bit of water. "I was dying in class...literally."
Tara surfaces. "I hear you."
The two of them rejoin their fellow mutants in doing laps.
(...the cafeteria...)
If only there was a way to reverse this; a way to solve the problem; a method of--
Ron's train of thought is harshly derailed by a smack to the back of his head. He turns his head from side to side. Nothing. He shrugs his shoulders and returns to his lunch. Seconds later, another whap! He tries to ignore it and eat the stuff on the tray, but he gets knocked right into it.
He wipes the muck off of his face and turns around. Behind him, there's a line of people with angry looks on their faces. Some of them crack their knuckles. Others punch their hands, ready for a fight. Ron tugs at his collar. "So, uh...what's the good word?"
A burly guy steps out. "We heard what happened last night. You couldn't save the squad and now they're freaks."
Ron shakes his head. "What does that have to do with you?"
"We need those girls for school spirit!" The jocky-looking guy protests, joined by ostensibly his teammates, also in line.
A trio of plain girls step out of line. "We need those girls for unrealistic standards of beauty!" They munch on celery stalks in their hands.
"We need those girls for..." The eyes of a pair of geeky looking kids shift downward. They move their binders over their midsections. "...um, we'd rather not say."
The cafeteria erupts in ruckus. Food (of a sort) starts to fly. Ron dumps the contents of his tray and uses it as a shield. Rufus pops out of his pocket. A volley hits the naked mole rat in the face. He licks it off...and quickly regrets it. "Ughhh..."
The blonde looks down at his pet. "Don't worry, Rufus. I'll get you out of here." Ron makes it to the door. He drops the tray and rushes out.
(...the hallway...ten minutes later...)
The corridor seems to be devoid of any life. The door of the janitor's closet cracks open. The coast seems to be clear.
"Man, this is bad. I gotta leave town; live under an assumed name." The young man looks down. "How does Stop Ronnable sound to you?" Rufus grunts in disagreement. A shadow passes by the door. Ron peeks out. He is quite surprised to find that it's Kim.
She stops at a locker to adjust her top. It's a real bear having to get your clothes just right following swim time. Just as she walks away, a guy with a sneer on his face jumps in front of her.
"You know, you're a long way from the Black Lagoon." Lars, one of those anything-to-get-a-rise-out-of-you types. Unfortunately, this model came fully equipped with strength.
"Funny. That's the best one, yet", Kim replies in an I-so-don't-have-time-for-this tone. She starts off again, but he blocks her with both arms.
"Someone needs to send you back." He grabs her and manages to walk a total of two steps.
Ron blocks his path. He stares Lars down.
"You seem to be in my way."
"And you seem to have something that doesn't belong to you." Kim's eyes widen; she's never heard Ron sound so serious.
"This ain't your problem, Stoppable." The jerk's grip on Kim's arm loosens.
"When someone messes with my best friend, it becomes my problem." Ron approaches he who sneers. The two men are face to face.
"I'm only gonna say this once: leave her alone."
The jerk backs away. "Uh, sure, Stoppable. Whatever you say." As Lars takes a few more steps, he keeps his eyes on Ron, lest he suffer injury. The few steps turn into a full-fledged run.
"I guess he won't be bothering us anymore." Kim isn't listening to a word he says; she's focused on his face. "What's wrong?"
She takes his hand. "You might wanna see something."
(...the girl's bathroom...)
"Wow." Ron sees what Kim was trying to tell him: his eyes glow a bright red. He beats his head, trying to make them normal. Funnily enough, it works.
Ron slumps down. "Aw, man."
"What is it? Your eyes are fine, right?"
"Yeah, but...swimming in the lake had an effect on me. I really don't want to become a mutant."
Kim puts her hands on her hips. "What's so wrong with that, and choose your words carefully."
"Nothing. After all, you've got a built-in Halloween costume. Plus...it makes for good water travel?"
"Now, that's an answer I was looking for." The two friends share a laugh. A small gagging sound interrupts the mirth. Rufus hangs out of Ron's pocket.
"What's with Rufus?"
"Food fight." Ron hands him to Kim. "Little guy took a shot...in the mouth."
"Really?" Kim puts her lips on those of Rufus and starts to suck. She moans a little as she performs the act. Ron looks on with a satisfied expression.
The redhead quickly rears back. Rufus spits a gob of food onto the mirror.
Kim wipes the corners of her lips. "Sorry 'bout the liplock, Rufus."
"S'okay." He jumps off of her hand and onto the counter. The rodent looks up at the transparent gob of food hanging from the mirror.
"So what made you think to do that?"
Kim shrugs. "I don't know. It just came to me."
(...a classroom...twenty minutes later...)
A number of students sit at their desks. Some are calm, while others are fretful and some are just desperate. What they have in common is this: they are all taking an exam. In the back is the mutant formerly known as Liz. There are several bottles of water next to her desk, just in case. She had no choice in the seating arrangements; if looks could kill, her classmates could qualify as assassins.
It wasn't easy convincing her teacher to let her take the test ("Don't I have as much a right to fail as everyone else!"), and her feelings about the outcome of said test were far from positive. Nonetheless, her parents had always encouraged her to try, no matter what. After all, it's how she got on the squad.
Almost as quickly as she started, she finishes. With a triumphant expression on her abnormal face, she strides to the teacher's desk.
The balding man looks up. "Finished already, Ms. McManus?"
"Pretty much. I think I did very well." She turns and walks to her desk.
"We'll just see." Mr. Stephenson knew that Liz was not one for confidence when it came to tests. He pulls a piece of paper from his desk, checking her test against it. His eyes widen, an expression which goes unnoticed by everyone except Liz. A smile creeps onto her face.
One down, two to go.
(...the library...ten minutes later...)
Study hall was usually a time of resting and goofing-off for the students of Middleton High. Not so, Hope Martinez. Not that she was a geek, but Hope felt that study hall made for a good time to, you know...study. Or, perhaps, get some reading done. Her clawed hands look through the shelves. They pull out a book on 18th century architecture; there is much to be said for curiosity, as well.
A pair of less-studious types run around the bookcases. To look at them, one would think that they were a couple of kids who got lost on their way to school, but they were just really small freshmen.
"Can't catch me!"
"We'll see about that!"
The two students grab each other and rush into one of the shelves. The (rather surprising) force of the crash causes a domino effect, causing the bookcases to fall over, one after the other.
Unaware of this, Hope stands looking at a picture of European archways. She never saw the falling unit coming.
The freshmen stop upon hearing a choked yell. They gaze at the destruction their rough-housing has wrought. The boys cover their mouths in shock.
One of them removes his hand. "We are so dead."
Another choked yell. The pile of cases rumbles a bit. From the literary rubble rises Hope, a shelf in one hand, her book in the other.
She sets the case down and walks to the counter. The librarian's mouth is still open from what has transpired.
Hope presents the book. "This looks really good. I'd like to check this out."
The older woman can only offer silence in response.
"Okaaay. I'll just be going with this." She looks around. "Sorry about the mess. I could help clean it up, if you like."
Hope walks to the first shelf to fall and sets it up.
As she goes to the next one, the two boys look to each other. "Wow. I guess this means we're not in trouble."
(...the halls of Middleton High...ten minutes later...)
Bonnie walks through the crowd of people. A number of them bump into her. The students murmur apologies. The brunette turns around, an angry look on her face.
"Well, that's okay. After all, we all make mistakes." What's this? The response contained no trace of anger or sarcasm. It actually sounded sincere.
A bookish younger girl walks by. "Hello. Are you feeling okay?"
'Like it's any of your business how I'm feeling!'...is what Bonnie wanted to say to her, but it came out sounding like...
"I'm doing all right." The mutant covers her mouth, her eyes wide. She rushes down the corridor.
(...the girl's bathroom...)
She gazes in the mirror, her piscine reflection staring back at her. She turns on the sink and splashes water in her face, just the thing to get the circulation going. Her hands grip the counter.
"All right, let's try this again." She starts with an edge... "Possible is..." ...which quickly dissipates. "...not that bad." An annoyed yell. "Stoppable can be...kind of endearing." Another shout. "My mom is...only looking out for my best interests."
Bonnie's hands find her mouth again. Her ability to craft a cutting insult has chosen this moment to fail her.
With a squeal, she runs out.
(...the hallway...an hour and a half later...)
Maggie darts around the hallways. For obvious reasons, cheer practice was postponed, but there was still the matter of yearbook, debate club and band practice. Having so many extra-curriculars looked good on a transcript, but they could put such a cramp in one's social life. So wasn't it just her luck that, today, these meetings would all be held simultaneously?
Debate club was a no-brainer, given how she was not only able to disagree with her mother on several key issues, but was able to back up her arguments quite strongly. Band practice wasn't considered a very popular choice, being a cheerleader and all, but she had always loved music and, as a girl, was somewhat infatuated with creating such beauty. (The cello being her weapon of choice.) As for the yearbook...she had a way with a turn of phrase, making her a pretty good caption writer.
She collapses onto the floor. A few moments later, she awakens to find herself moving down the hall, but she's not moving. Her head looks over and finds that she's being carried, her arms draped over the 'rescuers'.
Maggie's feet find the ground and she slowly stands up. "Thank you very much. I..."
She turns around to face those who helped her. The girl's mouth hangs open a little. The two rescuers are exact duplicates of Maggie. As proven by the smile on her face, the one on the left seems to have sort of a bubbly demeanor. The one on the right wears a smirk on her face.
The freckled blonde puts a hand to her head. "Okay, now this is..."
"...weird? There's an understatement", replied the right-side replica.
"Certainly. Why are...?"
"...the two of us here?", the girl on the left chimes in. "Well, you must've needed some help..."
"...with something that you couldn't do alone..."
"...so we showed up!"
Maggie puts her hands up. "Okay, that whole finishing each other's sentences thing is kinda creepy."
"Sorry." The clones offer in unison.
"It's going to be a little confusing trying to keep track of you, so..." She points to the girl on the left. "...I'll call you Joy." Her finger heads toward the right. "And I'll call you Francie."
"And we'll call you Maggie!"
"So, what do we do now?" Francie puts her hands on her hips. "We're obviously here for something."
Joy throws up her arms. "Let's hit the mall!"
"That would be nice, but there's still..." Maggie counts off the points."...debate club, the yearbook and band practice."
"Well, let's get to it."
"Yeah, the sooner we get done, the sooner we can have fun!"
The three take off down the hall. Maggie knew there'd be plenty of time to play with herself later, but work had to come first.
(...a house...about an hour later...)
A six-year-old girl tries to keep pace with a woman rushing from the living room to the kitchen. "Mom, you want to see my drawing?"
"Dad, can I borrow the car?" He is being crowded by an exuberant teenaged boy.
"Why aren't these dishes done?" The woman stares at the overflowing sink.
A nine-year-old girl stands on her head. "Lookit what I can do!"
"That's nice, but Daddy needs to rest." The middle-aged man collapses into a La-Z-Boy.
Amidst the chatter, the door to an upstairs bedroom opens and slams with no incident.
(...the bedroom...)
"Has anyone seen Marcella?"
With its girly outfits, posters of music groups and stuffed animals, this room doubtless belongs to a teenage girl. One of the plush toys resting in a chair - a bunny - starts floating across the room. An invisible force jumps onto the bed. The mystery guest appears out of thin air - it's Marcella. She cuddles the stuffed rabbit as if it were a baby.
"Oh, I just love this quiet time, Mr. Bun-Bun." She tweaks the bunny's nose. The good feeling is short-lived; there are footsteps drawing closer to her door. The girl's happiness turns to shock.
"Maybe she got here and didn't tell anyone." The door opens and in walks Marcella's mother. She looks around, but all she sees is a bedroom with no occupant. The crying of two babies interrupts the investigation.
The woman shrugs and closes the door. Marcella re-appears and continues to lavish attention on Mr. Bun-Bun.
(...a car...twenty-five minutes later...)
The somewhat beat-up vehicle is parked just outside Middleton. The young man figured that his passenger needed a getaway from the hubbub of the citizens and their comments.
The letter jacket-clad young man stretches out a little. "Isn't this nice, Crys?"
"Yeah, I guess." She rubs her arm with her hand.
"What's wrong?"
"Well...this whole thing. I'm really worried. I mean, what if I'm stuck like this forever?"
"Crys, it doesn't matter what you look like. You do look weird, no doubt about that, but I fell for you; for what's inside of you."
"Rich..." The magenta-haired girl throws her arms around the driver. "...thank you."
She doesn't know how accepting I can be.
Crystal breaks away a bit. "Did you say something?"
"No."
The cheerleader shrugs and resumes the hug.
I can deal with this, but can she deal with me?
She lets her boyfriend go. "Are you sure you didn't say anything?"
"Pretty sure I didn't."
Crystal doesn't take her eyes off of her boyfriend. How can I tell her...should I tell her? She can hear his voice, but his lips aren't moving.
Rich looks at her. "What is it?"
"Oh...nothing. I just thought I heard something. We should probably get back."
"You're right." The young man starts the ignition.
(...Bueno Nacho...thirty minutes later...)
Kim and Ron sit in a booth. He chows down on a chimmarito. "Something wrong, Kim?"
"People are staring at us, and don't talk with your mouth full." Sure enough, the patrons gaze at the red-headed mutant sitting across from the blonde boy.
Ron swallows his food. "Sorry. Besides, it's not like they're an angry mob chasing you toward a windmill. Now that would be bad." Ron focuses on his meal.
Kim folds her scaly arms. "I guess so."
"Something's bothering me, though." Ron holds up the chimmarito and shakes it as he talks. "Rufus was in the lake, too, and it hasn't affected him at all."
Unbeknownst to Ron and Kim, Rufus is at a nearby table. He's surrounded by trays of nachos dripping with cheese. A new tray floats through the air. Its nachos are the cheese-drippiest of all. The rodent glares intently at the tray, almost like he were willing it to come to him. The tray lands before the naked mole rat. A wide grin splits his pink face as he jumps into the mini-field of nachos.
"Maybe it has different effects on animals."
"Yeah, maybe." As Ron takes another bite, Tara walks through the door.
The redhead unfolds her arms. "There's something else that's weird."
Ron takes a good long look at his best friend. "You know, at this point, there's nothing that can faze me. Weird away."
Kim gestures to her chest. "My boobs feel different, like they're rounder or something."
Surely enough, her once-pointy orbs are a thing of the past. Ron looks away a little. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything..."
"Now, there's an unusual sight." Kim gazes toward the door.
"What?"
"Tara. I've never seen her come in here." The blonde mutant walks toward the counter.
"You know, it's the weirdest thing. It seemed like she was flirting with me last night."
"Well..." Kim stares off.
"Well, what?"
"She did tell me that she...kind of liked you."
"Really?", Ron inquires with great confidence.
"Yeah, but you didn't hear it from me."
"Hear what?" Ron gets up and approaches the perky blonde. A girl showing interest in Ron was a rare thing, but he knew to take advantage of the situation.
"Hey, Tara." She turns around.
"Hi, Ron."
"So, what brings you here?"
"Well..." She slides her hands around his back. "...you. I heard you liked to come here."
"Yeah, whenever I'm not at school or home or helping Kim."
She runs her clawed fingers through his hair. "So...are you doing anything tonight?"
"Not really."
"Great. Then maybe you can come over."
Kim sat at the booth, taking in the whole conversation. It's nice that Ron was spreading his wings and embracing life...even if it did take a life- and DNA-altering experience to do so.
"To your house?"
"I don't mean the Bermuda Triangle."
"Sounds like fun. But, wait, what about your parents?"
The word reverberated in Kim's head. What would she tell her parents? How would she tell them.
"Oh, don't worry. They're all right. I usually only had Bonnie over. After her, you'll be a breath of fresh air."
Kim rushes to the blonde twosome. "Hey, Tara."
"Hey, Kim."
She turns to Ron. "I just remembered that I need to get home. You two have a good time."
Tara puts her arm around Ron's waist. "I know we will." Kim hurries out the door.
"So, I'll see you at eight?"
"Eight it is." He turns to his rodent. "Come on, Rufus."
The trays left bare, Rufus hops off of the table and follows Ron out the door, followed by the eyes of the patrons.
"...and then I woke up this morning, where I found myself like, well...this."
(...the Possible home...an hour later...)
All eyes are on Kim as she sits at the kitchen table.
"I guess I was kinda self-conscious about it, but I felt that I had to tell you."
Mr. Dr. Possible clears his throat. "Well...Kimmie-cub, I'm glad you came forward with this, but...this is a little...off-putting."
Jim and Tim walk in. "Hey, Kim. You look--"
"--different, somehow. Did you change your hair?"
She groans a little. "I'm a mutant."
"We know that, but there's something about you that's different."
The redhead rolls her eyes.
"Now, boys, your sister is going through a hard time", Mrs. Dr. Possible offers. "The best thing we can do is offer her our support."
"Sure thing, Mom."
The tweebs surround their sister. "So, what's it like being a mutated freak?" The 'freak' crack was bad enough, but that freaky 'speaking in unison' thing was the line.
A devious look forms on Kim's face. "How would you like to find out first-hand?" A high rumbling sound emanates from her throat.
"Boys, be nice to your sister. Kim, no loogies at the table."
Kim swallows the bit of phlegm. Jim and Tim stomp off. "Awwww!"
The elder redhead sits down. "Don't worry, Kim. This can't last forever, right?"
"Yeah. According to Wade, the genetictists that can help the squad and I are busy with some 'find of the century'."
"It seems to me that someone ought to do something about that camp. Seal it off and drain the lake."
Kim gets up and heads to her room.
"But that water would have to go somewhere."
"I'm sure they could find a way to purify it."
"Or see what effect it could have on the surrounding land."
As the Drs. Possible carry on their debate, Kim wonders about Ron. He was right about everything last night. Maybe there might be a way to prevent this from happening again. However, her mind was on her brothers. She knew not to let them get to her, and was quick to let these things go...for now.
After all, tweebs got to sleep, sometime.
(...the Stoppable house...about an hour later...)
Victor Stoppable sits on the couch whistling "The Long Goodbye" while reading the paper. His wife, Carolyn, straightens a picture hanging on the wall. Their son, Ron, moves like a shot up to his room. In other words, just another quiet evening at home.
The young man zooms back down the stairs, startling his mother. "Ronald, what's going on?"
"Yeah." Victor puts the paper down. "Where's the fire?
Ron looks down toward his crotch, as if to answer the question. "Well, I...have a date."
"A date? That must be why you're so anxious."
"My little boy is growing up." Carolyn can't help but hug her son. "So, who's the lucky girl?"
"She's a cheerleader."
"Oh. Is it your friend, Kimberly?"
"Kim?" Ron was taken aback by this assumption. The thought of Kim as more than a friend never crossed his mind. "No, Mom. It's Tara."
"Oh. By the way, how was the competition last night?"
"It was...interesting." Ron felt that sparing his parents the gory details of last night's horror show was the best course of action. And so, it was done with a statement that, while not exactly the truth, wasn't exactly a lie, either.
He looks at the wall clock. "I gotta get going. Don't want to be late."
Ron heads for the door.
"Our Ronald has a date. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Yes, it is." The man straightens the newspaper. "I can finally cancel those therapy sessions."
(...Tara's room...forty minutes later...)
Ron had been given the grand tour by his date. Her parents were surprisingly accepting of Tara's circumstance...at least after Ron offered up an explanation. The two teens stand in the room, which was pretty much what he expected: neat and pink.
"This is a really nice place you have."
"Why, thank you."
"It would've been nice if we went out."
Tara sits down on her bed. "The way Mom and Dad reacted was unsettling enough. Dealing with strangers would be way too much."
"You're right. Besides, I guess we get a chance to get to know each other better."
"Yeah." She pats a spot next to her. Ron obliges and sits down.
"I'm still kind of shocked that you like me. I mean, I don't exactly set girl's skirts afire."
The old Tara would've blushed herself into a coma from that remark, but the new one offers up a smirk. "I always thought you were kind of cute, but in a weird sort of way."
"That's me: cute, but weird."
"I wanted to say something for so long, but..." Tara exhales. "...there was Bonnie. We were...are cheerleaders, and you were...you. She was always saying that who you go out with says something about who you are. And she proves this by going out with a different guy every six weeks."
Tara and Ron share a laugh.
"I thought to myself, 'If I can't have Ron, than I don't want nobody else'. Put my waiting with Bonnie never finding the right guy and how close we are, and you have..."
"...the rumors."
"Joined at the hip, fraternal twins, scissor sisters. I've heard it all, Ron."
The young man moved his lips to say something like "Is it true?", but decided to keep it to himself. "I wasn't really looking for anyone. Girls see how I am, what I do and their choice is made; bim-boom, done. Except for Kim, no girl would get to know me. I've accepted that girls find me...repulsive."
"Anyone who'd find you repulsive has serious problems."
"You're really sweet, Tara. Any guy would be lucky to have you."
Tara eyes him hungrily. "But I don't want any guy. I want you." She jumps on him.
Ron puts his hands up. "Hold it. Not that I haven't dreamed of this...several times, but aren't you moving a little fast?"
"It doesn't matter. I need this, and I know you do, too."
"But, I..." Any protests that Ron planned on voicing died in his throat as Tara nibbles her way from his neck to his ear. His eyelids flutter, making for a nice counterpoint to her moaning.
Tara moves her head and plants kisses all over Ron's face. She stops and looks down at his happy expression. "You were saying?"
"I honestly can't remember." Ron and Tara resume kissing as they remove each other's tops. They get so lost in passion that they don't notice that their skin colors turn a lime green. The teens lie on the bed, their limbs melting into each other.
(...the living room...ten minutes later...)
"Those two have been awfully quiet up there." The woman on the couch looked toward the ceiling. Her hair was so blonde as to be almost off-white. Mrs. St. James didn't believe in bleaching; 'twas the ravages of age. She nudges the man next to her. "Would you check on the two of them?"
"Fine." Mr. St. James goes up the stairs.
He knocks on Tara's door. "Tara? Is everything okay in there?"
No response. The man knocks again. His hand turns the knob.
(...Tara's room...)
The door opens. The man gapes at the giant blob on his daughter's bed. It well and truly resembles a gelatin mold.
He slowly steps out of the room, ashen-faced, and closes the door.
The blob shakes a little.
"Ron?" Tara's voice reverberates.
"Yes, Tara?" Ron's voice does the same.
"Did you hear something?"
"Hmmm. Not really."