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Ultragreen -8- Plan B
🕑 Added 2019-01-18 17:35:36 +0000 UTC
Shellie got out of the bathroom as quickly as she could, exiting to 23B where George lay across his bed, staring at the ceiling. Oak beams framed the building, but the walls and ceiling were paneled with pine and the construction always seemed to fascinate George. He could stare at it for hours.
“George,” she said urgently, after getting close enough to be in his line of site. “You want to use the bathroom now, then you can unlock the door for Andy and Denny.”
“They can go first, I can wait,” George mumbled, gaze fixed on a knothole that looked a bit like a pecan pie with one slice missing.
“No,” said Shellie. “If I unlock the door, they’ll see me.” She glanced back over her shoulder, folding her hands together in front of her chest.
George noticed, redirecting his attention. He got up, towering over his smaller roommate. “They’re gonna have to see you some time,” he pointed out, his mushy pronunciation not hiding his amusement.
“I know,” said Shellie. “But not now, Monday in class, where they won’t look so close at me.” She regretted not having taken time to examine herself in the big bathroom mirror but the knock on the door had caused her to rush things.
George nodded, looking intense, as if he were considering a difficult math problem. But math was easy for George, Shellie knew. It was other people’s thoughts and feelings that were often mysterious to him, and sometimes you had to spell things out. Just now, she figured, even George could read anxiety in her expression.
“Please, Georgie?” she asked. She debated on whether she should bat her eyes but decided against it.
“Okay,” George said, grinning. “Huh-huh-uh-huk,” he laughed as he went to use the bathroom and closed the door to Room B behind him.
Shellie blushed, she recognized that she had used something on George that she would not have been able to do before the green ray hit her. She didn’t want to think about it.
The mirror over her dresser captured her attention and she went over to examine her reflection in the better light of the cabin. Bright green eyes looked back at her. How would she manage to disguise those? If she started wearing sunglasses outside that might help, but she couldn’t wear them all the time. In the classroom such subterfuge would stand out instead of conceal.
Picking up her brush, she idly worked on her hair, teasing out a few wind tangles she always seemed to get after riding her bike for very long. And after toiling in the dusty house, she was going to have to shampoo her hair, too. Soon, like after dinner tonight, she decided. Which would mean locking her neighbors out of the shared bathroom again.
She could hear them talking to George, probably still shouting through the closed door on their side. Communicating with her roommate in such a situation would be difficult, and George would make the most of any misunderstanding.
His speech could be completely opaque, even to her, if he wanted it to be. And she knew for a fact that he sometimes faked garble on purpose when he didn’t want to answer a question.
She giggled involuntarily, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Good grief, she thought, I have to be careful not to do that when anyone is around. I sounded like a six-year-old with a new Barbie doll! Do I sound like a girl when I talk? she wondered.
“Bleah,” she said to her reflection, making a face. I probably do sound like a girl, she told herself. I am a girl. I don’t think I can not talk for a whole week. And if we can’t figure out how to change me back right away, I may be stuck like this for a long time.
She pulled a lock of hair down in front of her face, measuring it against her chin. I think my hair is longer too. She needed a haircut. We’re just going to have to sneak away and go back to the old house tomorrow.
About that time her stomach made a chipmunk-like noise and she realized that she had only fifteen minutes before the dinner line at the cafeteria closed.
At the bathroom door, she called out. “We need to get to the cafeteria, George?”
Faintly, through two doors, she heard one of her neighbors say. “George’s got a girl in his room.”
It made Shellie want to cuss. “C’mon, I’ll meet you there,” she said. She didn’t want to be in the room in case they came through the bathroom to check her out. Snagging a jacket in case it got cooler on the way back, she headed out of the cabin.
George caught up to her quickly. “Those guys think they’re being funny,” he said. “They know it was you. They said you sound more like a girl than usual.”
Shellie stopped, staring at George. “Did… did I always sound like a girl?”
George nodded. “Little bit. You’re younger than most of the guys.”
She frowned, thinking. She’d have to watch that.
Deciding to wear the jacket instead of carry it, she started putting it on as she walked. George gave her a hand by pulling the collar out of the way. “Thank you,” she said.
They reached the door of the cafeteria and went in. This late there was no queue so they got their trays and went to the serving line.
“Are you hungry?” Shellie asked. “I’m hungry.” She filled a bowl with corn chowder and put it on her tray. Next she chose a bowl of mixed green salad.
George laughed. “Huh, uh-huh-uh.” He filled his bowl with three-bean chili and added a slice of cornbread. “You eat like a girl, too,” he whispered.
Shellie shook her head and suppressed a nervous giggle. Was she even going to be able to get away with pretending to be her old self?
