Sarah dropped to his bed and huffed moodily. It didn't really do much good; it was hard to flop dramatically onto the bed when he barely weighed enough to dent the mattress. In fact, it really just made him look stupid, which made him even more upset. Why did this have to happen to him? He had had things going pretty much his way before the change; great looks, a knack for social climbing, and better grades than any of the other popular kids, to boot. And now it was all ruined, on account of a disease he should have gotten over years ago; it just made no sense.
But he'd been over this dozens of times since his change a little under a week ago. It didn't make sense because it was utterly random; just an utterly arbitrary fate that had befallen him. At least it had gotten those bastard jocks that had been tormenting him, though; they were all mermaids now, their utterly feminine forms even more of a cruel joke than his new body. Steve and Henry and company had all gotten theirs...
...and Biff. God, Sarah didn't even know what to think about that. She deserved it, after the way she'd treated him; the other jocks were just being assholes, but Biff was actively betraying their relationship. Sarah knew that the people around them had figured it was just another "shallow boy meets shallow girl" fling, but as a girl she had really loved him. *As a girl...*he was very afraid that he no longer felt attracted to Biff because he was becoming attracted to girls, but he was sure it must just be anger at Biff's betrayal; after all, he still wasn't attracted to her now that she was a girl.
But there was part of him that didn't want to stay angry at her; their relationship might be over, but what good was it going to do to rage about it? And Biff never had looked very glad to be chasing him down...maybe it was just pressure from the other guys making him do it? Sarah didn't know. But on the other hand, even if that were true, it wasn't like that would excuse Biff's behavior. The whole thing was confusing, and he didn't know what to feel.
He could do some drawing; that would help. Sarah had always doodled when she was trying to think things out, but she'd stopped really expressing herself that way when she'd begun her rise to popularity. If you showed who you really were or what you really felt, it left you vulnerable, and people could use it against you, find your weaknesses. But...it didn't matter now. There was no way to avoid being vulnerable; in a way, it was kind of freeing.
Sarah pulled out and old notebook and spread it on the bed; it was practically a mural to the pixie-boy. He hunted around until he found one of the micro-pens he'd brought home from school. He poised the pen above the paper, and then let it all out, all thoughts of present troubles and future questions emptied out, expressed in the drawing.
