It was maelstrom of fleeting thoughts. Zoey cycled through them all, one after the other, each as unsustainable as the last. She was glad to be with Carmen, though that meant being stowed under her desk for the meantime, but Gretchen was out there. Stalking the halls. Her heels had probably cracked under the force of her steps. Had the black eye set in yet? Would it even show through her makeup?
Zoey glanced to her side, away from her knees. Her skirt had fallen down her legs, bunched up around her waist and hips, allowing anyone who glanced at her the opportunity to observe her cock. It didn't reach as far as it once did, not that she could discern. She didn't dare check and, instead, remained frozen place. Everyone would look her way if she made a move.
Time passed at an indecipherable pace. A minute, an hour might have passed and she wouldn't know. Was it still first period? Her only choice was to wait for class to end, for her sanctuary to be destroyed. Gretchen would find her after that. Then what? She could fight, but no one could predict how many would come to the blonde's aid. If she did, she would be expelled, something she didn't want on her permanent record. Especially when Gretchen's mother had connections to near every college within a five-hundred mile radius.
"A few more minutes," Carmen whispered from above, an angelic voice that parted the grey clouds in Zoey's head. She looked to the honour student, satisfied with staring at her knees, past which she glimpsed a set of plain underwear. So different to what Gretchen wore, "There's a free period coming up. We'll head to the library."
"What about Gretchen?" Zoey asked, her voice nothing but a tiny squeak in her ears.
Carmen heard her though, "Dakota and Mary said they'll run interference on that front."
"Wow," Zoey steered her head back to its neutral position, chin rested atop her pursed knees and eyes gazing out into the sea of legs beyond, each controlled by Gretchen. The girl had her fangs and claws in them all, whether it was in the form of a ghostly rumour or a memory of her behaviour, she was always present, fuelling their fear. Except for three in the entire school.
How? The deceptively simplistic question hung on Zoey's brain. Its austerity laid buried, adorned by a mountain of all the other questions that surfaced, about whether it was as easy as a choice, or if the ability came from something deeper. A difference in pedigree? No. Carmen was poor, and Dakota and Mary were upper middle-class at worst. It couldn't be so simple as personality.
"Time to go," Carmen said, seconds before the painful sputtering of the bell. The machine was admirable in a way. Despite being broken, left to rust without a second-thought, it still persisted. Zoey crawled from her hiding place and took a parting glance at Carmen's luscious, milky thighs, "Don't run. Just walk. If all goes well, you'll blend in."
And what if I don't? She wanted to ask, but kept silent. Zoey nodded as she came to stand beside the top-tiered student. She wavered as a wave of vertigo hit her and grabbed the desk for stability. A glance down revealed the cause. She was tall again. Not as high as before, but above average. It was too great a coincidence for her to stand up for herself and to grow back to near her original height. Not to mention the warm sensation she'd experienced earlier.
"Let's go," Carmen said. She grabbed Zoey's wrist and pulled her along. Outside, the throngs of students masked most of the school. Zoey glanced side to side, eyes wide and observant for the crown of platinum blonde locks she dreaded. No sign of her. A collective blanket of relief descended upon the crowd when they also noticed.
Carmen didn't pause to enjoy the reprieve. Her feet navigated the student body with practised ease, the kind that came from years of being ignored, remaining on the outskirts, away from distraction and prying eyes. The sacrifices one had to make to stay at the top of the class. And to ignore Gretchen's hurtful eyes? She spied another outcast teen, who clung to the wall and was passed over by everyone else. Someone mentioned Gretchen and she stiffened.
No, being ignored didn't grant immunity. Then what? Frustration infiltrated her thoughts, not just for the gross hold Gretchen held on her, nor the cloud of disdain and antipathy that clung to the students, but for how she couldn't fathom Carmen's ability. How this girl could somehow be so poor that her clothes were riddled in holes, possess a body made for worship and excel academically, all while she was targeted by the school's queen bitch, and remain so strong? She'd seen girls from military families, trained by their parents to endure anything, be torn down by Gretchen.
It's not fair. And yet, it was that girl who defied the term fairness who was helping her. Zoey glanced to her wrist, clasped tight in Carmen's fingers, and back along the arm to the dark mane of silky hair. It narrowed toward the base of her spine, like an arrow pointed toward her firm rear, which presided over a set of long, voluptuous legs. So, so unfair, Zoey thought with a shake of her head.
"Okay, we're clear," Carmen said as they neared the library. After the past few months it had decayed, with fresh ivy creeping along its walls, encroaching on the windows. A sign outside made it clear that it was to be refurbished and repurposed. Gretchen's doing. She'd made the point to her mother that it would be better spent serving as an entertainment centre. One with an exclusive area for Gretchen of course. Ms. Blake agreed.
She always did. The principal's history was unclear, no one cared enough to ask and Gretchen didn't explain anything, but everyone knew she spoiled her manipulative slut of a daughter. Not that she saw it that way. Gretchen was a picture of misunderstood genius in her mind, one that deserved only top marks, of the level that put her one place below Carmen.
The stunning senior led her inside. The library was void of life. Faint streams of light filtered in amongst the vines along the windows and illuminated dust particles as they floated through the air, each incapable of finding space among the layers already on the rows of bookcases. Every book remained in place, disturbed only by one soul in the past months.
"Ugh, it was so nice here before," Carmen said, scrunching her nose at the musty air. She approached a table and pulled out a chair, sending dust flying everywhere, then took a seat, "Still, at least it's quiet."
It was. Zoey listened closely as she strode over to join her. None of the sounds she recognised from school penetrated the high walls around them, as if they'd entered a separate world, vacant and stale, but peaceful.
"This is kind of where we first met," Zoey said.
"Yeah," Carmen sighed and swiped at a layer of grime on the table top to lay her head atop it. She added, under her breath, "And when all this began."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing," Carmen sighed and raised her head, "We've got about an hour. Wanna tell me why you punched the scariest bitch in school?" She arched an eyebrow, lips tilted in a curious, excited smirk.
"You told me to," Zoey answered, "Um, I mean... you told me to stand up for myself. You were right."
"I'm glad," Carmen's smirk turned to a gentle grin, one of relief, as if she was invested in Zoey's development, "You look better now."
"What do you mean?" Zoey frowned. Did she know what was happening?
Carmen shrugged and looked away, "Just looks that way to me."
"Carmen, this... this will sound crazy but..." Zoey's throat clenched as she swallowed, tight around the ball of anxiety that trapped itself in her gullet. Air filtered past in a restricted flow. Enough for her to live, not to speak.
"I've heard a lot of crazy things," Carmen said, "Nothing you say will shock me."
"Well, I, uh, I..." Zoey gulped again, louder this time, "I think I'm shrinking."
Carmen's eyes bulged at the proclamation, but nothing else moved. Her lips remained pursed in a plump line, unfazed, "And growing?" She asked.
"Yes!" Zoey yelped, excited. She shied back and cleared her throat, "Sorry."
"Don't be," Carmen said and leaned forward, "No one else noticed?"
Zoey nodded, "Nobody. Not even my parents." What did that imply? That she and Carmen had a deeper connection than what she had with Rachel, with her own parents? She'd known the straight-A student for under a week. It didn't make sense.
"Strange," Carmen's gaze turned piercing as it travelled across Zoey's form. The athlete froze. She almost felt it as her body was observed, dissected by the gorgeous girl opposite her. What would she see? Would she like it? This might be a chance. Zoey straightened her posture and pressed her meagre chest out. She wanted to stand and give a better look at her entire body, but remained seated, keeping her penis concealed.
