Chapter 16: The Tall & Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl 10A [Flush With Pride Arc]

This is an alternate branch of the storyline continuing from [9A]
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The Tall and Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl

[10A]
For the Primary Branch [8]

Giselle didn’t feel ready to head down the steps to the ground level. Her eyes were raw from crying that her soulmate mistakenly believed she was actually her adoptive mother, along with crying that some sort of interdimensional alien creature, who was the toilet seat, had to take 2/3 of her age and go into hibernation because she kicked it in frustration, and then the replacement seat somehow turned into a white-haired, blue-eyed girl similar to her with odd mimicry.

And, as a final capper on that emotional torrent, she tugged at a few heartstrings by invoking the power of love. Giselle didn’t want to pin the blame on her early pubescent body. She got thoroughly crushed by the estrogen monster yesterday. The current arrangement actually felt like a reprieve. Sure, junior high was a gross, funky horror show of feelings and things she didn’t want any part in, but she found compartmentalizing worked best.

She wasn’t actually a young girl barely more than four and a half feet tall. She just happened to be piloting a very strange avatar in this open game world and it had a few weird aspects here and there that she wasn’t going to bring up and which didn’t matter.

That was because Olivia, the white-haired girl, had a twin who she kicked in frustration at being trapped as a woman for the rest of the week. This damage caused her to go into hibernation. But… But… Giselle was going to help figure out things with Olivia and this other one and then she was going to get resolution. She’s gonna get back to being Jeremy and everything was going to be fine.

And it all started with reminding Rachel of what they really meant to one another. Somehow. Taking the steps down one at a time, Giselle had no idea what she was going to say, but she had a long history of speaking extemporaneously on streams. She improvised an entire video game saga with a friend on messenger even though they never talked to each other or planned anything. She even attempted the same once against the chaotic currents of Twitter. And this was for her life and the most important person in it rather than memes and giggles.

Britney caught her when she stepped off the bottom step. Her hug wasn’t unpleasant but the youth energy and exuberance bewildered Giselle. She had just hugged her with soaring enthusiasm near minutes ago. Herschel rested on the couch but popped his furry head up and watched what they were doing.

At least her furry child hadn’t gotten caught in what that creepy guy was up to. Still ensnared by Britney‘s embrace, Giselle gave him plenty of head scratches and checked to see if he had dinner already. According to Rachel, who returned from her office to rest her hands on her hips and survey the prospects for dinner, he had.

But that didn’t stop him from offering up wide eyes and a plaintive expression like the poor thing had dragged itself across a desolate desert without a single scrap of anything for ages and here it sat, utterly malnourished, though while licking its face of stray leftovers. Instead, they cleaned out his circulating water bowl and that had to suffice.

Rachel put “you girls” to work as her assistants in preparing the vegetables and rice for mild chicken curry. Britney inquired if hers could be spicier and Giselle‘s Southern heart gave a flutter as she smirked and asked for the same. Rachel was able to make contact with Britney’s dad over the phone and ensure he knew that she would be staying for supper and that Rachel would subsequently be dropping her off. Listening in slightly, Giselle caught that Britney‘s father hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t home yet. He apologized and somewhat explained that it was a busy Thursday where he worked. Giselle caught a chuckling mention from him that things were “crazy”, and he asked to speak to Britney.

Britney, whose face appeared as impassively blank as a doll’s while she gingerly cut the vegetables, turned, thanked Rachel for the phone, and then walked down the hallway to speak with her dad. Giselle took over cutting duties when her part was finished.

She had to say something to Rachel. In a reversed situation, she knew in her heart that her wife would do everything in her power to try to remind her of what they had lost. The age disparity was incredibly weird, but it wasn’t going to get any better if she waited.

“Chel…” Giselle pulled in a breath and held it, like she was a balloon that could be bolstered by puffing up just that little bit. It was clear from Rachel‘s expression that using her nickname felt strange for this situation. She stuck to her guns though and told her, “There’s been a lot of stuff and we need to talk about it.”

Rachel shifted her feet and pulled on the edges of a frown, as though she were about to call out her daughter’s strange tone and admonish it. But she relaxed a moment later and set a hand on her forehead before brushing her hair back.

“Later,” she resolved. “The master bathroom doesn’t have a seat, so I need to get the spare from the far restroom back on. Are you good here to get everything finished? You remember the recipe, right?” Rachel appeared as though something more was bothering her than just getting a toilet seat back on the master. She fussed with discomfort.

Eagerly, Giselle nodded and reassured her she would take care of everything. It wasn’t long before Britney returned and handed back the phone. She thanked “Miss Huber” for letting her borrow her phone, since she wasn’t allowed to take her cell phone to school. It took several seconds for Giselle to realize what was wrong.

The oddity hadn’t been obvious in school, because they just called her Giselle Huber and she was used to it, same as hearing Jeremy Huber all the time. Huber was just her surname. Only… She was supposed to be adopted and, if Rachel wasn’t married, then her maiden name should’ve been Conway.

It struck her mere moments later that there were several logical explanations for this. When adopting Giselle, perhaps the theoretical altered reality Rachel decided to have her daughter keep her family name because of how close Gerald and Lily were. Of course, that introduced even more problems when it came to the names of her supposedly biological parents. Ultimately, all this not epiphany did for her was bring new stress about why she didn’t notice any of this earlier and concern about whether her own mind was being warped in some subtle fashion.

As supper cooked, Giselle slipped over to Herschel‘s sleepy side and gave him therapeutic head scratches.

“A buck fifty for your thoughts?” Britney asked as she tidied up the kitchen area, threw trash away, and washed her hands. Giselle was about to hop up and help, but Britney waved her hand and told her to keep giving love to “kitty” as she was practically done. Before leaving the kitchen, Britney checked the cooking time with Rachel‘s recipe book on the counter, set the small white timer off to the side, and grabbed two Diet Cokes from the fridge.

Giselle didn’t often drink diet, except when it was left over from being offered for a friend get-together, but she accepted the can and rested it against her neck before popping the top. It tasted too sweet, but she tolerated it. After all that, she considered Britney‘s question.

“$1.50 seems like a bit much…”

Britney shrugged and remarked, “Inflation.”

Out of everything, the notion of an 11-year-old concerned with inflation was probably the scariest prospect. Giselle sighed and rubbed an eye. “Just this confusing world. Some weirdo gets away and strange things keep getting stranger.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Gi! My magic will protect you!”

Giselle glanced over. Some part of her was tempted to just smile and playfully laud “Britney’s Magic” as part of some perfect little game from an 11-year-old. However, she realized that events lately had turned the silly things into the most serious, so she carefully asked, “Magic…?”

Britney sipped her soda as well. “Magic! Like I mentioned last week. I was so alone in elementary school. So, I went and got everything together, prepared all the pieces, focused my thoughts, and made a little happy spell. A promised to the world that if I could be happy and have a friend… A very special friend… then I would return that tenfold, because I’m a good witch.”

Giselle tensed her legs. She watched Britney. She knew from so many different people she met in her online community as Jeremy that Wiccans and stuff like that were nothing to be scared about. She even thought it was all pretty cool and nothing like in the movies and scary stories told by preachers. But she lived in the South so, despite her desired feeling, she tensed up with the memory of a dozen Sunday School lessons. She drowned it with another sip of soda and responded, “Yep! You’re awesome!”

Britney reached over and clasped Giselle‘s free hand. “You’re even more amazing! You’re special… Like that girl who just appeared out of nowhere. I know you’re responsible for her. And it’s like you banished that mean guy away. You can do amazing things! But there’s more I know you want to do. So, I’m gonna give you some of my energy to keep you strong tomorrow and through all the mean things that might try to hurt you.”

The mental scientist inside Giselle had taken a battering since the reveal that magic toilet seats could turn men into women. Finding out that “aliens” from another dimension learning to be humans were actually the cause had helped somewhat but the general craziness and flux of reality balanced out those victories. But sure, what the heck, if Britney wanted to give her some energy to help her, there’s no way was she going to begrudge it, even if it were just a psychological placebo.

The actual ritual she performed involved stuff that Giselle had no idea about, but the last note involved slipping a protection charm around her right wrist. It was pleasant looking and in her favorite color tone of green. Britney made her swear to wear it, even in the shower, till at least tomorrow night. Giselle had no reason to reject this notion, so she played along.

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Rachel didn’t say anything about the random wristband she was wearing when she returned and served up supper for everyone. While eating, they just watched some Japanese import game show and didn’t bring up any of the evening’s events. Giselle tagged along in the backseat as Rachel drove Britney to her dad’s house. It was the most normal part of their day.

On the ride back, Rachel proposed a place with some drive-thru ice cream and Giselle couldn’t deny it. As they waited, Giselle fussed with that silly little band on her wrist. They decided to get a little bit extra for Olivia, if she was awake when they got back.

Tightening her determination, Giselle began, “I still feel clever that, even though we both knew I was going to propose, and our mutual friend was working on the ring…on that silly one-hundred percent humidity summer day. We sat there in Bellworth Park, and I asked you about the date and how long we’ve been together and then told you so, it was June 28, 2009… that I proposed to you. I thought I was clever. And you told me it was two years since the first time I made you smile. And I had no idea, but it was when we were still talking on MSN and my roommates in college were playing Smash so freaking loud. And I told you… all I can hear are Mario and Peach screaming and all I wish… I wish…”

The darn hormones or whatever we’re ganging up on her and even though she made it this far, she stammered with nervous sobs. How could she do this? How could she make her remember? She was so dumb, she was so dumb without the one person in her life who made her less dumb. Who, no matter what happened, she needed at her side.

Softy, she heard stifled tears as Rachel kept her hands on the wheel and managed to finish, “All I wish… is to hear you laugh. Oh, Jeremy. How could I ever forget? I’m sorry.”

Of course, she was absolutely freaking forgiven. They squeezed each other‘s hand and bent over for a quick hug, or as much of one as was possible with seatbelts and separated chairs with Giselle being so small and Rachel having a 34-year-old body, despite her surgery helping enormously.

With the truth pulled up, Rachel immediately had dozens of questions her mind ignored but the most prominent and daunting one was, “What’s going on? What’s actually going on? All I can clearly remember is some repair guy showing up before I went to pick you up at school.”

Giselle took a deep breath and recounted, “I survived junior high even though the only classes worth remembering were maybe history and definitely art because I actually felt like I was making something useful and history reminded me of interesting stuff. But that’s just a side issue because at school I ran into the girl we just took home, Britney. Britney is apparently Giselle‘s best friend in school, for some reason that may involve alterations to reality. But she mentioned that she’s a witch, like a Wiccan person. And she made a spell so she wouldn’t be lonely, and I don’t know if that’s important, but I wanted to get that out of the way first. But, when we got home earlier, you were mind warped by that asshole repair guy. Apparently, he froze you with some sort of weird remote because you used mace on him, but I don’t remember you having mace. Maybe you grabbed it from him? He said he was here to make it like none of this ever happened and make us forget everything. Then, Britney smashed him in the head with her backpack. You may remember some of that, but I wanted to make sure. Now, the big things…”

Giselle cleared her throat and took a deep breath before beginning, “When I checked in the bathroom there was this blue zappy electrical light thing and this girl was standing there, the one I named Olivia, who is sleeping in my bed. She’s some sort of toilet child alien. She comes from somewhere else, maybe another universe. She said that her species or whatever need to be around strong human emotions. They are fueled by them and develop into humans too. But they need to transform people to get enough of the kind of emotions that they need. So, I guess the toilet seat transforming people for twenty-hour hours is like a dose of medicine. Olivia turned that cop into a woman for six hours but is still sleepy. She really didn’t want to do anything to you or Britney because she knew it would upset me. She also said the broken toilet seat contains like her sister-twin. And the reason that one turned me into what I am right now is because I kicked it and hurt her. She needed to take some fuel for me and go into hibernation to get better. I hope that means when she recovers… I’ll be able to go back to normal. Or Olivia can help with that. I don’t know how well I described all that, but I did my best. Hope that makes sense.”

By the time Giselle finished up, they were to the pickup window. Rachel quietly paid and passed Giselle her ice cream and set her own and Olivia‘s aside. They pulled into a quiet spot in the parking lot as Rachel rested her fingers on the wheel and puffed out a long breath. She answered, “…okay.”

“Okay?” Giselle worried about Rachel‘s anxiety problems.

Rachel shut her eyes and nodded her head. “Okay. Just, okay. Putting it all together but okay. I never expected that the caveat of getting 70% off a toilet seat would be inviting in an alien baby who needs emotion from gender swapping to live and is being covered up by some actual Men in Black.”

Giselle cradled her ice cream and cracked a smirk as she quipped, “Next time, stick to Costco.”

“Oh, we all know Kirkland alien entities have their own problems”, Rachel responded before she started eating.

Nothing more needed to be said as they had their after-dinner ice cream. Giselle had her stalwart vanilla but felt a vague desire for something like chocolate, lime, bubblegum, or any boisterous flavor. She blamed her childhood-twisted pallet.

“Are you sure that Olivia or her twin can restore you?”

Giselle swallowed hard. Rachel had noticed that part of her long spill of words. Tapping her spoon against the rapidly melting ice cream, she had to quietly admit, “No. I’m not sure. I’m hopeful, and she feels like the closest thing to a possibility.“

Rachel pressed, “You said she needs to feed, as she did with that cop. Do you think we can trust her to just be around the house and not decide one of us should be her snack…? Meaning, that maybe she transforms us into something or munches a few years of our age. Not that I’d complain about getting slightly younger… so long as it doesn’t totally reverse my surgery. But I feel like we really have no idea what she could do.”

Her wife had her there. No part of all this really felt like a good idea, but all she could say in response was, “What other choice do we have? The guy who said he was going to help just wanted to make it like it never happened. No one else even knows something changed.”

Rachel finished the bulk of her ice cream and Giselle hustled to catch up. She squinted at a slight headache and noted, “But that guy brought her. How do we know she’s not just some double agent he left behind who will mess with us while we sleep?”

To that, Giselle invoked the vivid, fearful imagery Olivia used to describe her situation versus whatever that guy was. None of their questions really resolved as they finished and set a course for home.

Once inside, they took a moment to prepare and walked up the steps together to the loft. Olivia is still on the bed with the blankets wrapped around her, but she turned her head towards them like a mannequin shifting position. Rachel flashed Giselle a look of concern before Giselle spoke, “ I want you.”

That simple statement made Rachael raise a skeptical eyebrow. Giselle soon clarified, “What you asked, if I want you. I say, all right. But I also want to know… Can you or your twin help me to be Jeremy, the man I was…instead of Giselle, the young girl or woman?”

“Yes. I might starve. But I can and want to help.”

Giselle released a breath. “Thank you.”

“I just ask one thing. Tomorrow, can I go with you to school? It would be safer than wandering your neighborhood, looking for possibilities. I would only need a little bit. Much less than I took today.”

Going back to school was absolutely not something Giselle wanted to do, plus it was Friday. She had so much work… Which had been erased from existence because of all this. Even if things were set right, she had no guarantee that the last couple of days would be preserved in some sort of universe buffer to catch up. It felt immensely frustrating.

But taking Olivia with her to school sounded like a slightly better idea than just leaving her in the house with Rachel. She agreed. It was clear that Rachel would have to arrange something with the office for all that legal junk schools required to keep people safe. With that guarantee, it appeared that Olivia returned to whatever rest mode she required. Rachel stashed her ice cream in the freezer for another time.

Since work appeared to be out of the question, and Giselle felt uncomfortable clicking away with Olivia on the other side of the room, she helped Rachel with her Etsy page and updates. Peeking at young Giselle‘s online presence was like taking a step nearly a decade into the past with Jeremy‘s YouTube progress. Dealing with random comments felt about the same as usual, but with the occasional dose of squick, as some she swiftly deleted included “odes to her soft thighs”. The Internet still never failed to disappoint and disgust her.

Another day down, she spent more time than she expected looking in the mirror. Her blonde hair looked like she beat it with a rug. Rachel hadn’t really said anything, which she appreciated. But she would’ve been fine with at least being told that it looked so chaotic. Pointlessly, she brushed it before her shower and then tried to wrestle it again afterwards. She kept the protection charm wristband from Britney on and largely forgot about it. 

She went right to bed early on the star pillow side. Rachel zonked out first and she was left staring up at the dark swirls of the room. Her brain chose that exact moment to remember how Olivia described creatures like the creepy guy as “[they] slip through walls as we sleep”. Vividly, Giselle nervously parsed every suspiciously-large shadow in the room as that guy returned through the walls to watch and wait until she closed her eyes.

Crud… she realized she wasn’t going to get much sleep…

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