Jason got off the bus at the corner stop, with Lucy close behind. The rest of the school day hadn't featured anything nearly as eventful or draining as the softball game during P.E., or as awkward or uncomfortable as discovering how her friends had changed or having to deal with the girls' locker room, but her mind had been reeling all afternoon over the things she'd learned.
Not only did their bizarre accident do this to them, not only did it create an entire class of beings that hadn't existed previously, not only did it do this by changing other people, but it actually created entirely new lives!? It was mind-boggling, so much so that she'd barely given any thought to the fact that Lucy's new younger brother was a normal human being. Were they not biological siblings, then? Lucy seemed to think they were...
They made their way down the street to her house and went inside. Jason's mother was sitting at the kitchen counter, her head set atop a spare potholder, typing away on something or other on her laptop. She reached over and turned her head to smile at them, as her body kept typing. "Welcome home, girls. Coffee's on."
Lucy bobbed her head and grinned. "Thanks!" She went over to the coffeepot and set her backpack on the floor and her head on the countertop, then set about trying to pour herself a cup.
"How's Jason doing?" her aunt asked. "Missing his big sister yet? It's probably gonna take a while before they finish the remodel." She turned her head back to the screen.
"He's fine," Lucy said with a chuckle, marvelling internally at the fact that they were casually chatting about a family member who hadn't even existed twenty-four hours ago. "Chipper as always. 'Course, the fact that he's getting a bigger room out of this probably helps dull the pain of my absence."
She suddenly realized, to her chagrin, that the mug she'd chosen was tall enough that she couldn't see over the rim from her position on the counter. Frowning, she set down the carafe, took her head under her arm, and finished pouring; still holding herself, she hefted her backpack with her other arm, slung the strap over her shoulder, and grabbed the mug in her free hand. "Speaking of, Mom texted me that they're coming over for dinner tomorrow?"
"Mm-hm," Mrs. McCormick said, her hands too busy with the keyboard to reach over and make any kind of nodding gesture. "You didn't have any plans, did you?"
"Nah." Lucy shook her head as best as she was able to with it under her arm. "Gonna see a movie with some friends on Wednesday, but nothing tomorrow." She headed towards the staircase. "I'm gonna go change and decompress for a bit."
"Alright," her aunt said. "I'm probably gonna put dinner on around 7:00."
"Copy that!" Lucy replied. She made her way up the stairs, leaving Jason alone with her mother. Setting her own backpack down, Jason poured a cup of coffee for herself; having seen Lucy do it, she chose a shallower cup and didn't have to juggle her head and the carafe. (She'd already had herself under-arm from opening the door.) She lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, following it with a heavy sigh.
"You've been pretty quiet, honey," her mother said. "Something on your mind?"
She shrugged. "Oh, just...busy day." She circled around the counter and set her head down next to her mother's; she thought about putting herself face-to-face, but she simply wasn't ready for a conversation with a disembodied head from the perspective of another disembodied head. She sat down next to her, and considered the problem of drinking; after a moment's thought, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the counter, lifting her head up into the crook of one arm; this put her mouth about level with the rim of the cup, so that she could idly sip her coffee in peace, instead of having to keep lifting her chin up with every sip.
"Mom?" she asked, after a brief period of quiet. "Does it seem, uh, strange to you that Ja...Jason isn't...um, like us?"
Her mother paused in her typing, and Jason could hear her turning her head to face her; hesitantly, she did the same. Yes, it was weird having a conversation like this, but less unsettling than she'd expected; she thought back to this morning, when she'd had that brief moment of perceptual weirdness with her human classmates. Maybe this was "normal" for that part of her brain now...?
"Do you think it's strange?" her mother asked.
She frowned; was this an awkward subject, in this reality? She hadn't meant anything by it, but maybe it sounded prejudiced, or just rude? "Um, I dunno," she said. "I mean, I don't think there's anything wrong with it, it's just kinda funny, looking at you and Lucy, and Aunt Shannon, and...and me..."
Her mother smiled, and she felt relieved. "Well, honey, some people are just late bloomers. Plus, boys tend to develop later than we do, just in general. Fourteen is later than usual, but remember, you were almost seven when you came apart. That's a little late for a girl, too."
Jason's eyes went wide. Did that mean what she thought it did? Hadn't Phoebe been insisting just that afternoon...?
Her mother, misinterpreting her surprise, laughed merrily. "Don't tell me you've forgotten!" she said. "You were worried for ages that there was something the matter with you because Lucy lost her head before she was even four, and then you had no idea what to do when your own head fell off!" She chuckled. "Oh, you were beside yourself, sweetie."
Jason wondered briefly if the puns were now canonical Corny Jokes in this reality where "dullahans" were a thing that existed, or if it was just her mother's sense of humor, but she was more distracted by the mental image. Her...her head just fell off? That was a thing that could happen!? She wanted to press for details, but how could she ask about memories she was supposed to have herself?
Then again...she glanced over at her mother('s head,) who was still smiling at the memory. "Well," she said sheepishly, "it was a long time ago..." She took a long pull off her coffee, obscuring her face; the look of mild embarrassment was real, but it had more to do with the weirdness of the situation.
Her mother took the bait. "Remember?" she said. "It was...oh, it was someone's birthday...that's right, that one girl in Lucy's kindergarten class..." She trailed off for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "Rachel, yes, that was her name. She invited Lucy, and Lucy invited you, and Rachel's mother took us out for hamburgers. You kids were all playing in the ball pit, and I guess you were having so much fun that you didn't even realize what was happening until you fell right in."
Jason stared at her, a bit befuddled by trying to relate to a "memory" that'd never happened, but also disturbed on a deep, instinctual level; she might not remember it, but her altered brain could easily imagine and internalize it. Her body shuddered slightly and shifted her forearm so as to pull her in a little closer; her mother definitely noticed.
"Oh, I was terrified that the other kids would accidentally kick or fall on or step on you, sweetie," she said, reaching over to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But they were all so startled that they just about jumped out of the pit in unison. And all the while, with your poor little freshly-decapitated body flailing around trying to find you!" She laughed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh," she said. "It's a parent thing, looking back on things that almost happened to your child; you'll understand one day, trust me. God knows I was worried enough, in the moment." She smiled warmly at Jason. "But you were such a brave girl, honey - you didn't even cry. It wasn't until I picked you up that I realized how bad you were shaking."
Her expression grew distant. "You know," she said with a wry smile, "part of me always wondered if that was the reason you ended up being so much more reserved than Lucy. But I suppose you'd still be you in any case, whatever happened."
"What...what if I was...different?" Jason asked. She blinked, as surprised by the question as her mother was, but she had a better idea of why she'd asked it.
Her mother stared at her in surprise, for a moment; then she scooted her stool over next to her and put an arm around her daughter, pulling her close. "Jasmine, sweetie, I'd love you no matter what. If you were blonde, if you were a boy, even if you were an ordinary human, you'd still be my child."
The force behind those last two words - and the firm hug which accompanied them - caught Jason by surprise, and she smiled in spite of herself. "Th-thanks, Mom." Then, after a moment's thought: "Um, what about Jason? What if he just, you know, never 'came apart?'"
Her mother looked surprised, and stopped to think about it for a minute. She gave Jason a wistful smile. "I guess I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be a little disappointed," she said; the flame above her shoulders curled and licked softly at the air like a warm fire on a cold winter's day. "But I'd still love him just as much. It's just...well, I guess I want him to be able to share in what the rest of us experience. Just imagining a whole life spent without ever being able to have the kind of relationship with his body that we do, having that whole other-self protecting and helping and caring for you..." She reached over and shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know how humans manage it."
Jason felt slightly boggled at that mindset. While she felt a little more kindly towards her body than she had this morning, after her experiences in P.E., she still considered this mode of existence to be a nuisance...a hassle...hell, a disability. But to her mother, who remembered always being this way, it wasn't just "normal," it was a part of her identity. Was it just "a dullahan thing," as if they were a cultural group rather than just a biological oddity? Well, for all she knew, they were - though it seemed unlikely if they were as uncommon as it sounded. Then again, you didn't necessarily need a whole lot of people bonding over a shared experience to have a subculture. She wondered if, say, deaf people felt anything similar.
"What brings this up, honey?" her mom asked. "I can't say I ever recall you asking about this stuff before. Is everything okay?"
Almost without thinking about it, Jason turned her head to face forward again, no longer looking her mother in the eye. "Um, not really," she said. "Just...I ran into someone I used to be friends with, and I wondered what it would be like if...if things had been different."
"Ah. Anyone I'd know?"
Jason hesitated for a moment, but it was bothering her. "Harry."
"Ahhh." Her mother gave her a knowing look. "That explains a bit. You were pretty shaken up by that whole incident, as I recall. I had to sit you down and explain that a lot of humans really don't understand how precious our heads and bodies are to each other." She hugged her daughter gently. "Does it still bother you, sweetie?"
Jason thought for a moment about what to say. The "incident" itself didn't bother her; from her perspective it'd never actually happened. But still...
"No," she replied. "I...kinda stopped thinking about it much. But...when I ran into him today, he was so different from...from how I remembered him, back when we were kids. Like, the head thing was upsetting, I guess, but maybe he thought he was being funny? But today he was just...just a gross jerk, except when he tried to make nice later." She sighed; it didn't feel good to say that about someone who was supposed to be her friend.
"It's, like, there's this whole thing that I've gotten over, but everyone else is still being all weird about it, and it's changed them in ways I don't even understand." Jason felt her emotions getting all jumbled up; it was confusing trying to skirt around the truth and not conflict with the "truth" of this reality, but then again the core issue wasn't far off in either case: her friend was being hurtful and unlike himself, and she couldn't understand why.
To her surprise, she began to tear up. Her mother pulled her close and gently rubbed her shoulders, while she reached up with her free arm and rubbed her eyes, cradling herself tightly to her chest with her other arm; in between dabbing away the tears, her body gently stroked her hair. The feeling of being nestled in her own bosom was still bizarre, but right now it was also comforting. She felt a little ridiculous and annoyed for crying over this, biting her lip as she sniffled; why was this getting to her so much? This was all invented reality - it didn't really count, did it?
After a couple minutes, she got herself to settle down a bit. Her mother gave her an encouraging smile. "Hang in there, Jasmine," she said. "At your age, lots of your peers are still trying to figure out how to go from being kids to being adults - and a lot of them take a wrong turn or two somewhere along the way. That's not an excuse, mind, but we can hope he grows out of it and has enough sense to apologize."
"Yeah," Jason said with a sigh, "I guess." She got up, still cradling her head to her breast, hooking her empty coffee cup on a free finger. She took it over to the dishwasher and set it on the rack, then turned back to her mother. "Um, thanks, Mom."
Mrs. McCormick smiled warmly. "Anytime, sweetie."
Jason made her way upstairs to her room - or rather, to "Jasmine's" room. It was still strange to think about, especially since, aside from her wardrobe, the differences weren't that great; it was as if "Jasmine" really was just a girl dullahan version of her. But even then, there were crucial differences - childhood milestones she didn't remember, friendships fractured over incidents that'd never happened, relatives who hadn't even existed. It was all so confusing...
Jason flopped back onto her bed with a heavy sigh. What a day - even the decent parts had been draining. With all that occupying her mind in her free time, the prospect of spending her evening on homework was almost a relief. Almost.
After taking a minute to catch her breath, she got back up and went over to her desk, where she set herself down on the little pillow that she'd placed in front of her computer monitor after last night. Her body manned the mouse and keyboard, which she'd set off to the side. One assignment, she recalled, involved a short video lecture and a quiz, which seemed just about low-key enough for how she was feeling.
She cued up the video, and her body slipped her headphones over her ears. To her surprise, it then got up, went over to the dresser, and began to take her shirt off. "Hey," she spluttered, "what're you...!? Look, stop!"
Her body, however, ignored her, and she was too mentally drained to bother putting up a fight. She sighed and resigned herself to this, hoping that she wasn't really going to become a casual nudist just because her semi-autonomous other-self insisted on it.
Fortunately for her, that wasn't how it played out. It was after the shirt had been discarded and her body unhooked her bra that she understood: it just wanted to relax, as much as she did. She hadn't realized how confining the bra was until it was gone. It wasn't that it was too tight a fit or that she had a whole lot to keep contained, and thinking back over the day there were definitely times where the support was good to have, but it was a bit like a heavy winter jacket: important in the right circumstances, but good to get off when it was no longer needed. She exhaled heavily as her body removed it and set it aside; they felt more relaxed already.
That wasn't the end of it, either; next came the jeans, which were also not poorly fit per se, but a bit too snug for comfortably sprawling out on the couch in. Her body began rifling through the dresser drawers, bending down to the lower ones, her bare breasts hanging free, and she was distracted from the video as it relied on her brain to identify different garments by touch. Did it remember what these things were...?
By the end of it, she was dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt with nothing underneath and a pair of what she mentally categorized as "genie pants," billowy, loose-fitting trousers that were closed at the ankle. (But, thankfully, not gauzy or diaphanous; these were some kind of felt pajama wear in a comfortingly neutral gray-blue.) And this was worlds better than even "casual" school clothes (putting aside the now-weird sensation of the shirt brushing directly against her bare nipples;) no wonder Lucy's first order of business had been to go change! Fine, then; she could work with this. Now, then, for-
"-uture." The video concluded with a short burst of PBS-ey electronic fanfare and a logo plate for whichever public-awareness board had produced it, and Jason realized she'd hardly caught a word. She ended up having to watch it again, but on the plus side, at least she was comfortable.
A little while later, as she was paging through her biology textbook, reading about prenatal development in humans, she came across a mention of "late-stage metamorphosis in demi-humans." This probably would've caught her interest in any case, but after her conversation with her mother, it set her off on a full-fledged Wikipedia binge.
As she found out, the various kinds of demi-human in this reality were capable of reproducing with each other, at least on the genetic level. Some strains could even combine, though it was more usual for a child to be one or another, based on which strain was more strongly represented in the bloodline.
However, there were obvious practical problems with some possible pairings. If, to take an extreme example, a human mother and a centaur father were to have a child (unlikely without medical intervention, obviously, but not technically impossible across-the-board,) it would be impossible for her to carry a centaur foal to term safely. Nature's solution to the problem, in this reality, was that a child "typed" for an incompatible form would develop and be born in a compatible form, and then later metamorphosize into what was scientifically referred to as the imago, the "true form" that their genetics dictated.
(Dullahans, she discovered, were unusual in that they always developed this way; the generally-accepted theory was that this helped prevent complications that might occur during birth if the body came out first - in essence, a breech birth.
She noticed, too, that her textbook mentioned this, but had unhelpfully split the statement that it is a common misconception that / dullahan children born to dullahan parents are likewise born in imago form, across non-facing pages, which was probably where Phoebe's confusion came from. The perils of typesetting...)
In practice, this almost always meant a child born as a human to a human mother becoming something else, simply because, statistically, the majority of mixed pairings were human/demi-human; there were various theories as to why, but the general understanding was that humans, being the "common factor," were, collectively, both attractive to and attracted by every kind. Alike enough to be familiar, but unalike enough to be intriguing, essentially.
But surprising things could happen, as well. Since demi-human traits could be carried and passed on without manifesting, it occasionally happened that a child would be born to human parents as a human, only to change into something entirely different as a trait that the parents might not even know they carried finally manifested after years of lying dormant in the family line. Like other metamorphoses, this usually happened in early childhood, but not always.
Jason took a moment to marvel once again at the strange new reality they'd ended up in. Just one thing - the need to rationalize the existence of beings like what she'd made out of her mother and her cousin - had changed her, her friends, her school, her entire society. And until she could figure out how to get things back to normal, she was stuck living with all the consequences that had cascaded out of that...and there were just so many distractions from-
"Jasmine! Lucy!" her mother called, from downstairs. "Supper's ready! "
She paused and blinked; her body reached over and shook her head. Great, she'd lost her train of thought. Sighing, she picked herself up. Well, it wasn't going to get her anywhere banging her head against the wall trying to remember. With a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something, she went down to dinner.
