Chapter 10: The Tall & Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl 7A [Flush With Pride Arc]

This is an alternate branch of the storyline continuing from [6a] 

The Tall and Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl

[7A]
For the Primary Branch [7]

“Time to get up.” Giselle heard Rachel‘s voice in the darkness and hesitantly cracked her eyes open. It felt almost as dark in the room around her until a light flicked on to scour her vision.

Intuitively, Giselle could tell that this hour wasn’t any time close to when she was supposed to get up. There had been several weeks when Herschel felt insecure and thrown off by several things to demand meals basically in the middle of the night. They had to kick him out of the master bedroom and lock the door to get some peace. As a consequence, he puked right outside the door several times.

With foreboding concern, Giselle wondered if that was what she would open her eyes to. But Herschel wasn’t around. In fact, he was excitedly clinging to Rachel‘s leg as she got up and walked towards the door. She was going to feed him, but she pressed Giselle to get up. It took a few more moments of realizing how much bed there was and how small Giselle felt beneath the blanket to put together all the events.

She had been turned into a girl by that blasted seat and then by kicking it until it seemingly broke, it super punished her by making her 1/3 of her normal age, or a kid just out of elementary school and forced to attend junior high. She groaned and buried herself in the blanket again until Rachel came back to pester her. The sun wasn’t even close to being up. No amount of fumbling protest helped though.

When washing up, she did her best to keep her eyes closed. It was still creepily unnerving to see her own body before her in such a state that just felt wrong to see without clothes. Not much she could do about it but the complicated state of being both an adult with many years behind them that way and yet a kid who looked barely touched by growing up made her just want to ignore as many things about this predicament as possible.

Rachel made her some cut cantaloupe and French toast though. And she ate the leftovers from yesterday as a bit of a breakfast bowl with some assorted potatoes and cheese. Somewhere through the meal, they each realized that the regular routine with a morning stream talking to their supporters didn’t exist anymore. In fact, they really had no idea what the schedule was now for that kind of stuff with whatever online content Giselle might do in her free time away from school. Rachel promised her adopted daughter that she would investigate while at home.

The next item of concern was her schedule but that was easily resolved by tracking down Giselle’s backpack. It was covered in pixel art of one of their favorite games. The gaming classic seemed unlikely to be known by most of the other students, but that provided a small, tender comfort for Giselle to not lose that element of her past for ponies or recent anime stuff, like the remaining games collection suggested.

From there, the pace of preparation accelerated to a feeling more like getting ready for a trip. Giselle hated the grinding feeling, the frantic push to be out at a certain time for class. It was there with her earlier jobs. She put such an ordinate amount of pressure on herself for daily work that tying it to the earliest hours of the day felt like one backbreaking straw too many. She could deal with it, but she also could complain silently inside her head.

The school that she went to was several miles to the north, in an area they didn’t often travel through. Mostly rural with a small town nearby but still a choked and creeping line of cars to drop everyone off. Several crowds of students screamed and bolted past on the sidewalk. Giselle glanced at Rachel skeptically and wondered if this was any sort of a good idea.

Rachel made her wear a pair of green pants that almost seemed like leggings but still fit the dress code in Giselle‘s backpack. Otherwise, she wore a loose, plaid brown top. And that was all the clothing stuff on her Giselle wanted to think about. Nothing seemed distinctively girly, to her immense relief, and everything drooped ambiguously across her body. No way her dense bright blonde hair could be hidden, but Rachel tucked it into a neat careful ponytail.

She hated to say goodbye all day to her best friend and the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But she gave her “mom” a big hug and did her best to set off with confidence.

The crowds were instantly terrifying. They loomed larger than she could ever remember them being and had both frantic energy and a somber sense of resignation. The area just inside the front door smelled like cheese and soggy corn nuts mixed together into a rancid blend. She braced her backpack against her shoulders and felt grateful to have a back that wasn’t shuddering beneath the weight. Her first class was an art one at the far end of the hall and to the left according to what Rachel checked online before they left.

Inside was a colorful but older room with wheels, diagrams, and so many other recognizable aids from her experience at an artful college and the many years Rachel taught art as well. She feigned ignorance about her regular seat and the white-haired teacher said that she was changing up the seating because of a new unit today. Giselle just went along with everything quietly and managed to do some work on a three-point perspective drawing.

To her relief, no one really pointed her out in the class so far as saying they were Giselle‘s best friend, greatest enemy, or anything embarrassing. One girl nearby needed to borrow an eraser, but it was a five-second affair. The only point of embarrassment came when the teacher called her up to present her drawing and shortened her name to simply “Elle”. No one else used that nickname though.

Along with that, there was a small lesson on making things bigger and more detailed and smaller and simpler for scenery and the teacher drew a potted plant with both aesthetics. She also did a little bit with how to draw with respect to dimensions so far as shadowing and foreshortening.

This was all stuff that Jeremy went through in required courses many years ago but the subject allowed for so many variations that she didn’t mind going over it too much and actually got some compliments on how her stuff looked relatively professional. At least this was one subject for which she could draw on a certain amount of experience.

Unfortunately, the next class was gym. She noticed immediately that the time restrictions getting from way over on one edge of campus to the other one felt strict. She still managed to make it in time but was soon stuck by something she hadn’t considered. She had no idea how to open her locker or really exactly where her locker was. A girl with black hair and bright purple nails interceded though, saying, “Hey, Elle, you have #32 over here. You flaking after just one day away? Welcome back, I saw you streaming yesterday with your mom. That new game looks fun.”

Giselle apologized and nodded before settling into that spot. It seemed like this nickname was going to be a thing. Wasn’t the worst nickname but basically everyone calling her a letter felt weird. The friendly girl talked to her a bit and resolved that she had the prettiest hair. Giselle tried to keep up a modest, cordial reaction. Before she left though, the girl dangled, “I know someone who has a crush on you.”

This was not what she needed. The girl made it clear that she wasn’t going to say who this particular crush was, and Giselle did her best not to look at all interested in this mystery. She genuinely did not want to know, she already had her romantic life figured out and when being a little kid ended, she knew who her life partner was. Fortunately for the lock on her locker, a paper scrap with the number had settled to the bottom of her bag and she was able to open it. The clothes were some normal black shorts and a pale gray top.

Giselle just felt infinitely uncomfortable about changing clothes around a bunch of other kids, in a body that absolutely wasn’t her own, not that doing this in her regular body would’ve been any better.

Gym was freaking volleyball inside and fortunately air-conditioned but smelled of the worst kind of feet and funk she could imagine. It was basically just waiting your turn to be part of a group of people who didn’t wanna be together at all and had very little active enthusiasm for hitting the ball. Mostly, random people she didn’t know wanted to put braids in her hair and talked about things she couldn’t be bothered to care about. The locker girl wandered away at one point and she was just left there to stare at her shoes and contemplate the passage and wasting of time. Eventually, it ended, and she was allowed to go to a health class.

It included projections from the teacher’s computer of human reproductive organs and plenty in the class considered it the funniest freaking thing ever. She just put her head down and wanted this to be over. The test and writing felt like a joke, even to her brain. Nutrition and sexual health but without any of the controversial elements.

History followed after, and she actually didn’t have a bad time with that. The teacher was more interested in telling compelling tales about the nooks and crannies of history. She could tell he was someone who really enjoyed the subject and she wanted to pound the knuckleheads who interrupted with fart jokes and other crap during the best parts.

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English actually provided her with a modest challenge as some of the word rules and particulars had escaped her mind. The teacher clucked strangely, almost like a chicken, but had exuberance as well. At a few points during lulls, Giselle managed to text Rachel, begging to be put out of her misery. Rachel answered with a silly face and reminded her to take notes.

She had to be careful as a couple of the more watchful educators considered taking her phone away.

Lunch wasn’t particularly amazing with a handful of chicken tenders, some grapes, some sort of cherry pastry, and too many carrots. The only saving grace for the whole meal was a pretty decent packet of mustard which didn’t go as far with the chicken as she hoped.

Math finished the day and unveiled the clearest sign of a friend as she ran into a fellow blonde girl with absurdly long locks. Her greeting hug almost bowled her over as the girl gushed about yesterday‘s stream from the game to a tangentially related book she loved. Giselle braced herself and tried to absorb a little bit of the random girl’s energy. It was like trying to keep in orbit around a flaring sun with the craziest pulses of energy.

Gel pens came up as well as fun apps she knew and, despite Giselle‘s best efforts earlier, she didn’t escape without getting all sorts of stuff braided into her hair as she looked through polynomials. The girl, who called herself Britney, did have a fun shirt on describing the “different” emotions of a blobfish. It was kind of funny and cute.

Despite herself, Giselle enjoyed being around Britney. She wasn’t the sort of friend she would imagine herself having usually, but she seemed loyal and cordial with a geeky edge and exuberance. That could’ve described a multitude of her regular adult friends. The only wrinkle was the way Britney would sometimes bring up how so and so she saw at lunch was kind of cute and had smiled at her. It was weird and she still felt distinctly like she was a spy or someone just playing a kid rather than actually being one.

Somehow, she was able to get through all that and more math than she ever wanted to encounter in her life again and reached the bell. Fortunately, math class had a door that exited right onto the main parking area, so she was able to get out of Dodge just a few moments after the bell. Britney trailed after and sighed in relief before asking, “I don’t mean to be a bother, but can I tagalong with you and your mom? My dad has work till after five and I don’t really have anywhere to stay till then. I know you said you were busy the other day, but it would be really cool and my legs are still super tired after the other day I had to walk about 8 miles.”

Giselle took a deep breath and eagerly nodded. “Of course.” She did worry a little bit that she was being a soft touch, but the girl seemed like a friend and a decent person. The frantic way she described it all, Giselle didn’t want to have her walking so far all by herself. Brittany vigorously explained that it wasn’t like this every day, just the middle of the week. And she could stand it and she was going to get used to it and all that, but she would also really appreciate a chance to “rest her legs”. Giselle wasn’t terribly sure how to interpret all of that, but it didn’t make her waffle on helping out.

Rachel showed up a couple minutes later stopping over by the nearest curb. Of course, one of the first things she asked through the rolled-down window was, “Who’s your friend?”

Brittany bowed and crouched and put her hands together almost in prayer and explained her idea while assuring Giselle there was no obligation. No dad till five. Mom in a complicated situation middle of the week and she wasn’t able to go somewhere till the evening. Just around an hour until she could get back to her dad’s place on her own.

Rachel flashed a look but soon nodded and said, “Sure thing. That sounds great. I have some work at home but just you two can hang out quietly and I might be able to make some snacks.” Brittany shrugged this off, explaining she didn’t wanna impose on her hospitality and explained just a place to rest her legs would be appreciated. Britney got in the back by herself and buckled her seatbelt tightly.

A few minutes into their drive, Giselle turned around to ask her something and Britney was conked out, nestled up against the softest cushion with her backpack as a supplement. She wasn’t quite sure how she might be able to wake her.

“Did you have a good day at school?”

Giselle scowled slightly and didn’t provide an immediate answer. She grumbled to herself and eventually managed, “Art at the beginning was all right, but everything else I would’ve dumped off a cliff.”

Rachel pressed her for details and Giselle admitted that gym sucked, pretty much all the subjects but history sucked, and while Britney was nice to her in math class she didn’t want to become a part of this school. She just wanted things to go back to normal.

“Normal?”

Giselle suddenly felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck as though someone had placed a fire underneath there and she was about to burn. “Yeah. Normal before everything got broken with the seat and Jeremy and everything.” She measured her words as she spoke because she knew that, even though Britney seemed to be asleep, she didn’t want to start talking about stuff that might confuse anyone else and require long-winded explanations she didn’t want to give.

“Who’s Jeremy? Is that a student or a teacher?”

Giselle felt like she was a balloon that had just landed on a pit of thousands of living spikes. She couldn’t breathe, she didn’t have words or sense to make of what Rachel had just said. “You don’t know Jeremy?”

Even putting those few sounds into the world felt like sliding off into an abyss. Rachel calmly shook her head and looked her in the eye without any sense she was teasing or lying. “Sorry, sweetie. Afraid I don’t. You’re gonna have to give your poor old mom more details.”

Giselle just barely felt like she was holding back the urge to ruin the carpet on the passenger side of the crossover with those wretched remains of terrible junior high lunch. In the pause, Rachel amended, “Some sort of repair guy stopped over, right before I left. It was weird, especially considering he said he represents this website we bought that faulty toilet seat from. I never expected them to send someone over. Strange fella gave me this card that said Cerberus. Must be a contractor. He’s waiting till we get back.”

[Since this is meant to be interactive, feel free to suggest ideas and prompts for future/alternate branch storylines. Some branches are already written but this will allow me to best pick new/alternate ones. I'm currently just rolling dice.]

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