Sarah turned to her fourth guest, Michelle Winslow, and repeated the ritual she'd performed on the previous three girls. "Michelle, tell me your truth. What is stopping you from being a cheerleader?"
Michelle's perfect smile shifted to a more natural one. Then her brow furrowed. "Why, nothing is stopping me from being a cheerleader, Sarah. What do you mean?"
Something wasn't right. Sarah concentrated further. "Then why didn't you join the squad before this week?"
"Oh, I was just doing other things." This came out a bit more strained than her previous statement.
Sarah took a deep breath and held out her palm towards Michelle. There was another layer here to peel back, and Sarah needed to know what it was. "Michelle." Another breath. "Tell me your truth."
She froze. Her hands began to shake. A single drop of sweat formed at her temple.
"What is stopping you from being a cheerleader? What is your truth?"
Michelle began to gag, hands at her chest and her throat, almost as though she was physically trying to force the next words to stay inside of her. But with a great heave of her chest, they came out anyway:
"My name is not Michelle Winslow," her voice changed, "and I am not a teenager. My name is Masha Volkov. I am 35 years old, and I am a Russian spy." The more she spoke, the more prominent her Russian accent became. "I have been deep undercover at Lake Point High School for three years, with dual missions of information gathering and instigating pro-Russian sentiment among the student body."
"What?" This was not the response that Sarah had been expecting.
"My name is Masha Volkov," Masha repeated. "I am 35 years old, and I am a Russian spy."
"I heard you," Sarah blinked. "I do not believe you."
Masha's eyes flashed. Words poured our of her mouth in Russian that Sarah could not understand.
"Alright, alright!" Sarah cried. "I believe you. Fuck." This was going to be a bigger obstacle than Sarah had originally intended. She began to pace back and forth in front of the bean bags.
"What do you want from me?" Masha's Russian accent was thick as ever.
Sarah fumed, but the apparently-not-a-teenager in front of her had asked the right question. "I want to know what's stopping you from being a cheerleader."
Masha shrugged. "I am a spy. I am not a young girl. I have no allegiance to this high school, or even to this country. I do not have 'school spirit,' as you would say."
This was a lot. This was more than Sarah had wanted to deal with tonight. Changing Gladys's looks was simple. Giving Emma resources so she could focus on cheerleading wasn't much harder. Pivoting Andi's priorities from her parents to the team was pretty standard. But Michelle-- Masha, she would need an entire re-write of who she was. Because she wasn't even who she was in the first place.
Unless...
"You're not a spy." Being this direct had its consequences, but like tugging a tablecloth swiftly enough to leave the dishes on the table, if she did this right everything should fall into place.
"I am a--"
"You are not a spy." Sarah sharply re-inforced this statement even before Masha had a chance to fully form a response.
"I am not--"
"You are not a spy." Picking at one target, one spot until it collapsed.
Masha blinked. "I'm not a spy." It wasn't a statement of fact, it was a realization. Almost a question. She was surprised at her own words. "I'm not a spy!"
Sarah heaved a breath. "So if you're not a spy, then..."
"Then I'm not Russian?" Masha's deep brown hair lightened a shade. Her eyes shifted from green to blue. "And I'm not 35!" Baby fat whose absence Sarah hadn't even noticed returned to Masha's face and arms. Her height decreased, but only very slightly. "And I believe in Lake Point High School!" Her Russian accent was completely gone by now. "And I believe in the United States of America!" Her clothing changed to a pair of stone washed skinny jeans held up by a white leather belt with a big rhinestone buckle, and an unbuttoned red flannel top tied just under her bust, worn over a white tank top. "And I am full of school spirit!" She smiled a smile that would have made any supermodel proud.
Sarah had been regaining her composure as the girl before her made her declarations. "And why is that?"
"Because I am Michelle Winslow!" she put a hand on her hip. "And I am a cheerleader!"
"Thank goodness," Sarah wiped her brow before snapping her fingers and returning Michelle to her mesmerized state.
