Best Friends Since Pre-K chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Happy New Year everyone! Best wishes for everyone in 2021!

I'm really happy to see how many people are enjoying this story, and finding Diana believable. We are finally starting to get to the meat of this story, I think.

Happy reading!

It started gradually, and just when Diana was starting to lower her guard.

At first, it seemed like life was settling down for her. The confrontations with Abby and other students came as she had dreaded, and she dealt with them as well as she could, although she found herself getting more sarcastic with her classmate's questions as the days wore on. Even the well-meaning comments rankled at her. Ron was a solid wall of support through each of them, just as she had been for him many times when things got ugly, and it helped, even when the comments came from a few people she had previously viewed as friends.

The stares didn't really go away, but the novelty of her new skin tone wore off after a while, though the colour itself remained unfortunately noticeable, and Diana no longer had to force herself into the school building every day. There were still people shooting her uncomfortable looks, and not just at school but everywhere else she went in Go City. The stares she got from adults were less obvious, but they were still there. Sometimes she would feel eyes on her in a grocery store, or while she was looking through shelves at the library, and would turn to find a stranger looking hastily away.

Eventually, Diana found that her patience for all of this was starting to wear thin. After weeks of wearing extra clothing and getting stared at anyway, Diana decided she had had enough and left the house in the morning in a crop top and jean shorts. She was done with hiding, and the rest of the world would just have to deal with it.

Ron didn't say anything when she met him at the corner, but he stuck even closer to her side during the next few days until the stares died down again, rather evoking a skinny, freckled bodyguard.

It was a good thing he was with her during all of this, because it was then that the prickling beneath her skin, which had died down after her time in the hospital, started building again.

At first it was just a tingle at intermittent times. Diana would rub unconsciously at the area where her skin felt overly sensitive, and it would subside. Then she started noticing it as the tingle you feel when your foot starts to wake up after falling asleep. It was stronger, and she frequently needed to pause what she was doing and give it time to die down. Sometimes she would feel it in her arms or one leg, or across her back, but it seemed to happen the most in her hands, and the tingling was strongest in this area, and the most painful. One day, after the feeling had been building for about a week, Diana was carrying a stack of plates to set the table when both hands began suddenly to spasm as the feeling ran through them. She fumbled and several plates slipped off the stack to smash at her feet. The next minute the feeling was gone, and Diana was left with nothing but the broken china pieces, which she cleaned up hurriedly.

She didn't tell anyone about the tingling, even Ron. The feelings were so gradual when they started it didn't seem important, and Diana couldn't help hoping that they would go away on their own. She didn't want to have to go back to the hospital, and didn't want to hear the rumours that would circulate if she did. As they escalated in intensity, she knew she needed to tell someone, but she kept putting it off. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have.

However, after the plate incident, Diana knew she needed to confide in someone, and she couldn't justify waiting any longer. She retreated to her room after supper with the intent of calling Ron, but she couldn't. She didn't want to acknowledge the feelings; didn't want them to be real. She didn't want to have to deal with what would come next. She sat for close to twenty minutes on her bed with the phone cradled in her lap, then returned it to its table in the hallway with a sigh. She supposed this wasn't really the kind of thing she wanted to talk about over the phone anyway. She could confide in Ron tomorrow after school, and he could help her decide what to do.

Diana went to bed early, snuggling under her sheet, but leaving the blankets off. She had felt too warm for blankets the last few nights. She was tired, but it took a long time for sleep to find her, and then it was a light sleep, frequently disturbed by tingles under her skin.

Diana was late to the corner the next morning. Ron didn't notice at first. He was busy sorting through his backpack in a desperate search for his script. Rehearsal was today, and he planned to practice during lunch if he could find a deserted area. It took approximately five minutes of panicked rummaging before he realized the script was tucked under his arm, and had been since he left the house that morning. That was when he noticed that his friend hadn't yet arrived.

Ron frowned. It had only been five minutes, but Diana was never late for their walk to school. Her parents were very strict about punctuality. He chewed his lip, uncertain whether he should start walking towards Diana's house or wait for another few minutes. As he was thinking, Diana suddenly came barreling around the corner. She halted in front of him, breathing heavily, and Ron could see that her face was paler than usual beneath its new green tint. Her hair was a little bedraggled, and her eyes were distant. She was wearing her gloves again too, first time in a week.

"You alright, Di?" He reached out to steady her with one hand, but Diana shrugged him off as though his touch would burn her. She stood for a moment, taking several deep breaths. Her eyes met his and she smiled a little, apologetically.

"Sorry Ron," she said finally. "I'm okay. I just slept in, I guess."

Ron raised an eyebrow skeptically. She didn't look like she had slept in, she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

"You're sure?" he questioned. "You can tell me if something's bothering you, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Diana hesitated for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. She met his eyes levelly. "There is something bothering me," she corrected, "But I really don't want to talk about it right now, even with you." She looked pleadingly at him. "Would you be patient with me, Ron? I'll tell you everything after school."

Ron was a little taken aback.

"Sure Di, if that's what you need," he fumbled.

"Thanks, Ron." Diana still looked a little harried. She readjusted her backpack straps, fingers fiddling nervously. Nope, she definitely didn't want to talk right now.

"Well, we should really start walking to school." Ron pretended not to notice the look of relief at the subject change that shot across Diana's face.

"Yes, absolutely!" she agreed, and began walking swiftly down their usual path. Ron had to hurry for a moment until he could catch up with her. He noticed that they were walking a little too quickly for comfortable conversation, and shot an unobtrusive glance at his friend, whos' eyes were focused steadily on the sidewalk just in front of her running shoes.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't worried. It wasn't like Diana to keep things to herself like this, but at least she had agreed to tell him what had happened after school. Whatever it was, he would find out then, and he would do whatever he could to fix it. In the meantime, he would just have to be patient and trust that Diana had things under control. Still, he made a mental note to stick close to her today. That was what friends were for after all.

Diana felt like she was caught in a tornado, being whipped and torn at by winds as sharp as knives. She glanced around self consciously as they entered the old school building, but nobody was looking at her today. Good. She could do this. She glanced to her left where Ron was walking noticeably closer to her again.

She should have told him what happened this morning, but she just couldn't form the words, even in her head. Talking about it would make it real, thinking about it would make it real, and more than anything what she wanted was for it not to be real.

You're going to have to tell him after school. She shook the thought away, annoyed. That was something she would have to deal with when it came.

She glanced down at her covered hands warily. They felt fine right now, just a little sweaty from the gloves, but she was used to that. Still, she felt the sudden urge to check, just to make sure, and had to clamp down hurriedly on the feeling. It would be better to just go to class and pretend that everything was normal.

She moved on autopilot to her locker to find her math books. Ron was quiet as he did the same, but she could feel him at her back, creating a slight wall between her and the rest of the students and had a flash of gratitude. She hadn't told him anything, and he was still helping her. The familiarity helped her to relax, just a little.

It'll be alright, she told herself. You can get through the day. It'll be fine.

But it wasn't.

First period went well. It was a new lesson on integers, and the class was occupied feverishly writing notes. It was easy to stay focused on writing terms and sample questions without letting her mind wander. Diana's hands tingled a couple of times while she was writing, but the sensation was brief, and she was able to ignore it for the most part. When she felt it, she looked down quickly at her gloved hands, but there was no visible change.

Second period was different. After a brief lesson, Ms. Mackenzie told the class that they had the rest of the period to study for the science test at the end of the week, and retreated to her desk to grade some papers. Diana barricaded herself behind her books, but she couldn't concentrate on studying. There was always whispering during a study period, and today was no exception. And, as so often happened these days, some of the whispering was about her.

"…really think she did it to herself?"

Diana loudly scribbled some notes on a blank page of her notebook, trying to ignore the voices.

"Think about it, Dean. All the kids got hit, but she's the only one who changed colour."

"Still though, who would even want to look like that?"

Diana turned the page in her textbook, but she wasn't reading. Her hands were tingling again, but she ignored them. She didn't want to hear this, but she strained her ears to listen anyway.

"Weirdos. I'm telling you; she probably likes all the attention."

Diana was so mad her head was hurting. She wanted to march over and slam both of their stupid faces into their desks. The words on the page in front of her blurred unrecognizably and the tingling in her hands intensified painfully and then was suddenly gone. At the same time, her sturdy leather gloves burst suddenly into brilliant green flame, igniting the textbook she was holding and papers underneath it.

Diana screamed. She lurched backward into the two students behind her, who scattered to get out of her way, screaming as well. Diana grabbed the desk to steady herself, then recoiled in horror as her hands melted into it with a bright green flair and a reek of burning chemicals. Most of the class was yelling or screaming now, but Diana barely heard them, or the wail of the fire alarm. All she knew was that she needed to get out of here, right now. She vaulted over the smoking desk and was out through the door, ignoring the cries of the class and Ms. Mackenzie behind her. Students and teachers were starting to emerge from classrooms in response to the fire alarm, and Diana ducked into the nearest washroom, backing to the sink with the vague thought of putting her burning hands in water. She froze when she caught sight of her hands in the mirror. Her hands had ignited only briefly in her room this morning, and had gone out almost as soon as she noticed them. She hadn't had a chance to see what they looked like, not that she had wanted to, but now she couldn't help pausing for a closer look.

The gloves were completely gone now, burned to ash, and her hands glowed a steady, but undulating green. It surrounded her hands from wrist to fingers, and didn't really look like flame. It was too steady, and didn't rise and tendrils the way a fire did. And it wasn't hurting her.

"What's happening to me?" Diana asked. Even as she spoke the glow faltered and died, leaving her hands their normal pale green, and she became aware of the fire alarm still beeping insistently, and the noise from the rest of the school as they evacuated. The last thing she wanted to do was go out there and join them.

It has begun!

Of course it started in the hands. ;)

Next up will be the next chapter for Shades Of Self unless I get a flash of inspiration for another story. :)

See you soon!