The silence between Becca and the other girl was just long to be a little awkward, before she smiled. "I'm Rachel," she said. "That's a nice doll. Can I see her?"
Becca protectively clasped her hands over Trident, but she could feel her mentor tapping at her palm. She thought maybe that was a signal that it was okay. "Um, okay," she said. "Please be nice with her."
Trident was a little surprised when Becca hoisted her out of her jumper pocket, and quickly did her best to stiffen up and stay straight. This was the first time anybody had picked her up. At first, she wanted to object - she wasn't a doll, and she didn't want to be treated like one! But of course she had to maintain her cover, and...it actually felt kind of nice. Becca was very gentle with her, and Rachel took her very carefully.
She gasped softly as the other girl's hands touched her - she could feel something. It wasn't quite what she felt when Becca touched her, but it was kind of similar to the feeling she'd gotten from her protege before she'd awakened her powers. Did that mean that Rachel was an unawakened magical girl, or did it just mean that she was a magical creature of some kind?
Rachel turned her this way and that, looking her over curiously. She smiled and handed the "doll" back to Becca. "She's pretty," she said. "What's her name?"
Becca smiled; for some reason, she felt kind of proud that the other girl thought Trident was pretty. "Her name's Trident," she said.
Rachel giggled. "That's kind of a weird name," she said, "but...it's nice. Do you wanna be friends with me, Becca?"
She hesitated. It still seemed kind of weird to her, to think of being friends with a little girl, when she was supposed to be a big older boy. But she found that she liked the idea; Rachel was nice, and she could use another friend. "Yeah," she said. "Let's be friends."
Jon sat in the counselor's office, looking at the woman who was looking at her. The counselor should have been very unnerving; she had the shape of a Gorgon, or at least the Clash of the Titans version of one. She had a giant snake's tail for a lower body (though Jon was hardly any less strange in that department,) scaly green skin, and a head full of living, active snakes for hair - Jon almost couldn't tear her eyes away from their motions, as they tasted the air and looked around, although they general faced where she did. She was, at least, decidedly less monstrous in the face than Harryhausen's Medusa had been, but it was still a thoroughly unsettling package.
Somehow, though, Jon couldn't find it in herself to be afraid at all. Maybe the counselor was just trained in putting students at ease, or maybe it was her soft, soothing voice and gentle grace of movement, but she could hardly have been less threatening if she was Mr. Rogers.
"Thank you for coming Jon," she said. "Please, have a seat." There was a bit of emphasis on her sibilants, but nothing so extreme as the "sssnake ssspeech" of cartoons.
Jon seated herself on the sofa opposite the counselor's chair, draping her foot off the edge of the cushion. "So," she said, "is this about the test?"
The counselor nodded. "What's the verdict?" Jon asked. "Am I a Replicant?"
The counselor looked confused for a moment, then laughed softly. "No, no," she said. "It's not that kind of test. Like we said, there's really no way to fail it. The test is simply our attempt to assess where you're at mentally and emotionally, so that we can figure out what if any effects your transformation has had on you. You're here because we wanted to follow up on your results."
Jon frowned. "Was there something unusual about them?"
The counselor made a so-so gesture. "Your academics were about average. You scored a little lower on the hard sciences and little higher on sociological and creative questions than you usually do, but not at all outside the normal fluctuation for either."
She stretched out, her hair-snakes extending and then retracting. "We brought you in because your answers to the more psychologically-oriented questions seemed indicative of a high level of stress. I wanted to know what it is that's making you upset, and if there's anything we can do to help."
Jon smiled, feeling a little bit bitter at herself. After all, she couldn't very well say "oh, I'm upset because I instigated the change in the sun that's been affecting the whole world for the past month." That would get her a trip straight from the counselor to a full-fledged psychiatrist, no question about it.
"Well," she said, "I...we've had a lot of changes in our family, and with some of my friends, so there's that. As for me...the thing with being half-slug is kind of annoying, but I can deal with it. It's the..." She sighed. She hadn't intended to share this at all, but if it would help her get it off her chest...
"It's the being a girl thing that's got me stressed," she said. "I...this is all still so new to me, and now I have to deal with it around so many other people, and some of the girls are already trying to beat me into line, and I don't know if the guys are staring at me behind my back or not, and-" She gaped. Did she really just admit to that? So much that she wasn't planning on sharing was spilling out...
She sighed. "Yeah," she said. "I...I just don't know what to feel, about any of it."
The counselor nodded. "I'm sure," she said. "Gender-identity issues are confusing even when someone has been dealing with them for years - suddenly having them thrust upon you must be very upsetting. Can you tell me anything more about this?"
Jon balked. Who said she had identity issues? She knew she was a guy, it was just the waiting through until she could return to being one that was the problem! "I, uh..." she sputtered, "I don't..."
The counselor shrugged. "I see. I won't press you to share what you don't want to, but if you change your mind, please don't hesitate to come see me."
Muriel sighed. She'd called every station in the tri-county area. None of them had any persons reported missing. Whoever this girl was, she didn't seem to have any attachments in the area. Was she a traveller? What would she have been doing in a crappy, gang-ridden district like that? This didn't make any sense.
They'd sent out a search party to where the girl was found, but if she'd left any personal effects (or clothes, for that matter,) the lowlifes in the area had long since appropriated them. Most of the gang members were humans and only came out at night, but the ones that had changed were only too happy to prey on new transformees while they were still getting their wits about them.
She looked at the girl, who was huddled up on a bench, frightened, confused, and alone. What would happen to her if they couldn't find out who she was? Would she be sent to an orphanage? Were there any back in operation yet?
Muriel sighed. The paperwork she was attempting was going nowhere anyway, not with as little even quasi-factual information as they had. She set it down and sat on the bench, putting an arm around the girl. She flinched at first,at the touch of the policewoman's chitin plating, but relaxed and snuggled against her.
"Hey there," Muriel smiled. "Remember anything yet?"
She shook her head. "Jus' a little," she said. "I think my mommy and daddy went away...I dunno where. I think it was 'cuz I was bad, but I dunno what I did! Why can't 'member why they left?" She started to sniffle.
Muriel hugged her close. "There, there," she said. "I'm sure your mommy and daddy didn't mean to leave you, and I don't think you could do anything bad enough to make them want to. We'll do our best to find them, I promise."
The little girl gazed up at her. "Really?"
"Really." Muriel looked her over. "You know, you shouldn't cut your hair; it's very pretty."
"Me?" The girl seemed surprised. "Pretty?"
Muriel nodded. "Oh," the girl said. "Um, thanks..."
