The lunch period was winding down when Max approached the table Jon and her companions were seated at, holding a tray as close to arm's length as she could manage and still hold it stable, like she was afraid it could somehow reach across the gap and brush against some of her breasts. Jon felt a little sorry for her, remembering her first week or two trying to get used to having just the two...
"Hey," she said. "How's it going?"
The cat-girl sighed in annoyance. "That test takes forever!" she said. "And right after lunch I have to go meet with the counselor...this isn't just some kind of ploy, is it?"
Jon shrugged. "Well, they are trying to find out about more than just the academics," she said. "But it's not any kind of trick test or anything. She just asks you straight-up how you're feeling about things."
Max sighed. "That's a relief, I guess. But...what's she do if you aren't feeling so great about things?"
The slug-girl smiled. "Relax, it's not behavioral modification. I wasn't exactly thrilled about my change either, she just offered to talk if I ever needed to discuss things."
"Mmm," Max mused. "Did you? Uh, sorry, I guess that wasn't-"
Jon shrugged. "It's okay," she said. "And yeah, I did once. She's good about it, she doesn't come at it trying to make you into one thing or another, she just talks, is all. Don't worry about it."
"Right, okay..." Max said, "it's just...I keep thinking I feel people staring at me..."
Jon nodded. "Yeah. Remember, though? Everybody gets odd looks for their first couple of days, just like I told you. It'll die down after that."
Max sighed and fiddled nervously with one ear. "I guess so..."
Sarah and Mrs. Crawford walked silently down the school hall for a while. The harpy was irritated, somehow, that the vice-principal was so...so passive. It wasn't even meek, it was just...pathetic. Self-loathing. Sarah was still peeved at her for this whole mess, but this wasn't healthy. And it irritated her that she was irritated by this, it conflicted with the part of her that still felt mad about the whole clothing thing. She felt herself get into a sort of annoyance-feedback loop as they walked.
Finally, she just threw up her wings, spanning a sizable part of the hall's width. "For crying out loud, would you wash that off already!?" she yelped.
Mrs. Crawford blinked in surprise. "I-is it a problem?" she asked.
"Yes!" Sarah hissed, teeth gritted. "Look, you made a mistake, that doesn't mean you have to be some kind of eternal outcast! You're just sitting there while people attack you! And half of them probably wouldn't even still be angry if you didn't just go along and act like one bad call invalidates everything else you've ever done! Geez!" She huffed and pulled her wings in, the tips curling inward, the result of her brain trying to clench fists she no longer had in exasperation.
She hustled Mrs. Crawford into the ladies' room, watching with wings folded across her chest while the older woman washed the syrup off her face and trying not to feel bad for losing it at her, again. "Look," she muttered, "it's just...this can't be good for you. If it's because you're still angry at yourself over this shadow thing...if it really was some other person in you, it's not your fault, and you shouldn't act like it is. And..."
She sighed. "As far as the clothes thing," she said, "I...I think I believe you that you were trying to help, but it didn't seem like you thought at all about the message you were sending. I mean, you think I chose this because I just got bored with wearing clothes? Hell no! You know me, I used to spend half an hour picking stuff out some mornings! But...things changed, Mrs. Crawford. I can't dress myself, basically, and...I don't want to need people to do things for me if I don't have to be doing them in the first place."
A shadow fell across her face. "It's not about losing my humanity," she said. "My human form already is lost, and I can't just dress up like a human and pretend that that isn't true. I have to find a new approach to life...I gotta live with what I've got. I mean, I am happy like this, I think it suits me, but that doesn't mean I don't miss my old body. I miss it every time I have to reach something on a shelf, or open a jar. I haven't just forgotten how nice hands are. "
"S-Sarah..." Mrs. Crawford said, "are you...?"
The harpy shrugged. "I'm dealing with it," she said. "But...the way you talk, it's like all it means to be 'human' in the larger sense is to dress in human clothes and go around acting like nothing's changed and I still have hands, or the kids with tails still have legs, or something. I can't do that, even if I wanted to. Maybe you didn't mean it that way, but...I mean, you're wanting us to fill out forms every day just to not have to do something some of us can't do anymore! It's like we don't even have a right to exist as we are without getting a waiver! 'Please excuse Sarah, she can't help it that she's not as civilized as the rest of us!'"
Sarah was starting to get angry again; she felt torn between wanting to go into full-fledged ranting and raving and not wanting to hurt the vice-principal's feelings any more. And...she felt... "It's not just that I'm pissed off because it'd mean more trouble for me," she said. "It...it hurts, okay? I know people think I get mad easy, but...I don't like being told that I'm not as good as the rest of you people, just because I don't have hands...even if that wasn't how you meant it..." She sniffled a little bit, dabbing at her eyes with a wingtip and watching the tear roll down the feathers, not even leaving a trail thanks to their oily coating. She hated it when she felt like this...she didn't want to just be some kind of "unfeeling bitch" stereotype, but it felt so scary to show vulnerability in front of others...she shook her head, trying to get back to the situation at hand.
"But...I'm sorry I yelled at you, I guess," she said, frowning a bit. "And...sorry for...getting everybody else worked up. I didn't want everybody to be all mad at you, but...I dunno, I didn't want to be the only one upset about this...I don't want to be mad at you, it's just...I mean, you were nice to us before, without having to be either all self-loathing or authoritarian, everybody knows that..." She sighed. "Please," she said, "we...I think we just want the real you back."
