(Note: This is a frankenepisode, so credit and thanks goes to The Guest for making their half of this)
Linda walked through the gilded halls of Whitelace Academy, guided by the woman who used to be her son. Michelle, as Linda heard another staff member call her, had seemed to just remembered that Linda was due to sign some manner of documents. Apparently not only was her former son now a member of the school's faculty, but Linda was supposed to be a student! She would have thought that utterly ridiculous, had she not seen her ten year old son turn into a thirty something year old woman in a matter of minutes, not to mention her own changes...
Linda glanced at her reflection in the windows again, still not entirely believing what she saw. For the most part, she still looked the same, thankfully. Did she look any younger? Linda gave an almost hysteric laugh at the thought, drawing a look of concern from Michelle. She never imagined being paranoid about looking younger than she was. No, the only real change so far was her eyes. Linda's eyes were naturally hazel, but her left eye had darkened to a chestnut color, while the right had gone to the other end of spectrum to a rich green color. The strange contrast between her new eyes were almost as perturbing as the eye itself, and if Michelle was any indicator, these were only the first of many changes to come.
The two reached the Whitelace offices, a large network of desks and rooms at the heart of the school building. Michelle gave Linda an assuring smile, then left her at the main lobby to fetch the necessary papers. It was so strange to Linda, to see her own offspring treat her, well, motherly. Resigned, she sat down, trying to convince herself it was all a dream. The lobby was empty save herself and two students, who looked to be partway through transformations of their own. Both were boys, though with enough feminine characteristics for Linda to assume they would end up like her son did. One had a massive head of red hair, and the beginning of a pair of breasts; The other was a timid looking one with a slight build, dark complexion, and impressive hips.
Presently, the red haired one turned his (was it still a him?) attention to Linda, surprising the older woman. "So if yer don't mind me askin', waat are ye at in 'ere? oi must say oi never seen yer mug raun 'ere before, an' oi know dis school loike de back av me 'an'," he asked, in a thick Irish accent.
"What?" Linda said, caught completely off guard.
"Well, oi mean, ye look loike a student, but oi'll be damned if oi ever saw yer," the boy explained.
"Derek, stop bothering her..." the other boy said softly.
"Ah, shut it, Steve, oi was only askin' 'er a question. 'tis not loike oi, for instance,flew into a share panic an' ran around de room screamin' bloody murder!"
"Th-that's not my fault! You stabbed me!"
"Ah, come aff it! It wus only a wee little sewing-"
"Um... excuse me?" Linda cut in, "You two are students here, right?"
The boys turned their attention back to Linda. "Ah, so ye are new? well den, oi'm derek, an' de fussy wan is Steve."
"I'm Linda. Mind if I ask you a few questions about Whitelace?" Linda asked. Maybe now she could get to the bottom of what was going on.
"Why certainly, anythin' yer nade to-."
"Excuse me?" interjected a young teenager with a stern look on her face. She didn't look any older than the two teenagers she was with. "The headmistress is ready to see you two." The girl turned her attention to Linda.
"Ah shoite, we best not keep 'er waitin' then. We'll 'appily answer any questions yer got for us after that." Derek rose and scuttled off to an office down the hall, and after giving a polite nod to Linda Steve followed suit.
"Right then, you must be Michelle's new girl, the transfer student. I am Mrs. Levine, if you could just follow me."
Linda looked at her. "Mrs. Levine?"
"Yes?"
"Umm...what do you do here?"
"I've been the Headmistress's secretary for the last few years. My daughter is here on scholarship."
"You...have a daughter here? You look so young."
The girl raised a brow at her. "Getting on my good side won't help you, young lady, if you plan on getting into trouble here." She guided Linda to her desk. "I can keep a better eye on you here until Michelle gets back."
"Do...did you go to the school?"
"Heavens no. This place is too expensive. I went to a normal high school not far from here."
Linda could imagine which high school that had been. She tried to hide her surprise at how this...teenage girl dressed in a green cheerleading uniform was acting. She wondered if all of these people who were changed or changing were just under some sort of suggestion that could be broken. If so, she could get her son back, and then find other two childen. "What was that like?" She pressed.
"Well, this school is very fancy. I'd imagine you've never been to a public school in your entire life. It was plain tile floors, with rows of lockers, and lots of students per teacher. You'll get a lot of personalized attention here, not like I did when I was your age."
Linda tried to steer her back. "What year was that? When you were my age?"
She got a stern look. "You know, around here, it is not polite to ask any woman over thirty what her age is. But I'm not vain about it." She paused. "I started high school when I was fourteen. That was '85."
Linda did the math quickly. 39? This girl thought she was a year older than Linda herself. "And what music did girls listen to back then?" 'Mrs. Levine' paused to think about the question. Linda almost smiled. She didn't know...this wasn't real. She was really just a teenager who thought she was an adult...
"Well, my girlfriends and I used to listen to Madonna and Michael Jackson."
Linda recognized the names, she had...she paused mentally for a second, for an odd sensation. It was like a crossfade in a movie...suddenly, the names she'd just heard were unfamiliar to her, just vague references with no meaning to her. She'd listened to Lady Gaga when she was in school, not...she'd even forgot the names the girl had just said. "Who?" She said, focusing on the teen.
Or not a teen, she was visibly aging. A moment ago she could have passed for a high school cheerleader, and now she looked to be in her early twenties. "Michael Jackson. He passed away not long ago," she said. "And Madonna, well, she was a lot like that singer...Lady whatshername."
"Gaga," Linda said, automatically.
"Yes, her," Mrs. Levine said. "But, the 80s are making a comeback. A lot of people are getting nostalgic, I think, for some of it." She named a few more names, and each time she did, Linda had that strange crossfade feeling again.
Her companion was unaware that as she relived the 80s, a decade where, in reality, her own mother was in high school, she was slowly growing older, leaving her twenties and entering her thirties, Linda could actually see the age lines being etched into her face, a few extra pounds appearing around her wiry body.
By the time Mrs. Levine had finished talking, Linda remembered about as much about the 80s as...a teenage girl would. She remembered high school, but the big unruly hair and ripped jeans had been replaced in her mind by today's fashions.
And Mrs. Levine looked rather matronly, her body having caught up with her mind, her cheerleading uniform reformed into a simple green dress. She realized how long she'd been reminiscing and the glazed look on Linda's face, and felt embarrassed. The girl was just trying to connect in her new home, and here she was, rambling on about things the girl clearly had no interest in. "I have to get back to work. Why don't you sit right over
She sat down at her desk, looking at a picture that had suddenly morphed into one of her as she was now and a teenage girl. Amber never wondered about the quality of the education here, but she did sometimes worry her daughter was developing the sensibilities of a rich girl...the job here paid well, but Amber couldn't give her all the things her classmates could afford. But with the scholarship, their expenses were few, and Amber put most of her money into saving for her daughter's college fund. The colleges might not be as generous as Whitelace had been.
Linda sat in the corner, stewing in a mix of puzzlement and distress. How did the woman know so much more about the past than she did? While she didn't look it now, she'd been a teenager until a few moments ago. Linda had been alive back then, not her. But, as she tried to think back to the past, all that came to mind were MP3s and the Video Music Awards. The truly scary thing was that what Mrs. Levine had been talking about sounded as archaic and alien to her now as someone talking about the Great Depression.
"Well then, looked who missed 'er chance ter flee while she could," a voice with that unmistakable Irish accent said. Linda turned, and couldn't help but gasp a little. The two students had gone into the headmistress' office with still most of their transformations ahead of them, but by the looks of things they now seemed entirely assimilated to Whitelace.
Derek, or whatever his, or rather her, name was now, resembled something off of a bottle of whiskey, a pale skinned beauty with fiery red hair and green eyes so vivid they practically glowed. Her burgeoning breasts had blossomed into two impressive mounds, and Linda figured she must have at least been a DD cup. The rest of her body had shifted to take on a curvy hourglass shape, with wide hips and long legs. Her hair had grown even longer, reaching down to her ankles even after being folded over itself in a rather elaborate design. Her bright green eyes dominated her face, accentuated by a pair of emerald earrings and a light smattering of freckles across her nose. Linda also could see freckles dotting Derek's cleavage, displayed rather nicely by a green blouse with the first few buttons left open. She also wore a plaid red skirt that stopped just above her knees, a pair of brown sneakers, and a metal bracelet inscribed with a Celtic ruin. Coupled with the wide grin on her face and amused gleam in her eyes, the new girl seemed in all to be a very vivacious creature.
Contrasting Derek's spiritedness was Steve, who gave a much more demure aura. Steve's skin had darkened into a deep caramel, though her new clothes showed very little of it. Between her skin and the niqab obscuring all her head save a pair of pale brown eyes, Linda figured Steve must have originated from the Middle East, though something told her she dressed so modestly more due to timidity than piousness. Steve wore a long sleeve shirt and loose jeans, though even still Linda could tell Steve must now be quite sought after amongst whatever boys remained at Whitelace. While lacking in Derek's curvature, Steve's figure possessed such a lithe beauty that Linda couldn't help but envying even amongst the circumstances. In all, the two seemed to fit into an all girls' school perfectly.
"Yer alright, Linda? Ye seem distracted," Derek asked, raising a thin red eyebrow.
"What? Oh yes, yes, sorry about that. I'm sorry, but I completely forgot your names. You are "
"Ah, us? Well oi'm Deidre, an' dis 'ere is our very own St. Eve o' Whitelace," the Irishwoman replied.
"Why do you k-keep calling me that?" the other girl, Eve, asked quietly. "I-I'm not even Catholic."
"Well yer certainly act loike a saint. an' Wali Eve doesn't quite 'av de seem rin' ter it," Deidre replied. "Anyhow, yer 'ad sum questions?" she said, turning back to Linda.
Just then Michelle returned, carrying a stack of papers and muttering to herself. The older woman's face brightened at the sight of the pair of students. "Ah, Deidre, Eve, how nice to see you here. You two aren't in trouble again, are you?"
"Actually, we are, Mrs. Moran," Eve said abashedly. "I had a bit of an episode in Home Ec."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Oh, well I see you two have met Linda. She's my new girl, just drove her in from the airport. Have you girls all met?"
"Er yes, I was just going to ask them a few questions on what's it like as a student here," Linda said. It was so strange talking to Michelle, given that not two hours ago she was still her son.
"Actually, oi think we might be able ter do wan better than that. Mrs. Moran, wi' yer permission, wud it be gran' so if Linda wus ter accompany us te our final period? It shud be startin' soon, an' oi'm sure Ms. Stern won't mind if she tags along."
"Oh, I think that would be a wonderful idea, Deidre! You go have fun Linda; I'll make sure your things are settled into your new room. "
During this time, Linda had been brooding over what just might be going on here. She still didn't know how or why Whitelace was changing, but she had a hunch that the persons responsible had something to do with the Headmistress. After all, Derek and Steve didn't show any visible changes while in the lobby, and they weren't in the office for terribly long. Linda was tempted to make a dash for the office and demand to know what was going on, but she still had enough sense to know better than that. Even if she did manage to burst into the Headmistress' office, it would likely only have her end up like the rest of the student body, blissfully ignorant just how wrong their new situations were. Deidre mentioned something about fleeing. Did the Irishwoman know something, or was that merely a jest? Ugh, everything was so confusing!
Linda snapped back to reality just in time to hear Michelle's farewell, and then Deidre took Linda by the hand and guided her out towards the hall. Glancing down, Linda stifled a squeal, as she realized her hand, and indeed the rest of her body, had darkened to a light mocha color. Her changes were continuing, and she needed to find a way out before she ended up like Deidre or Eve
