As exciting as it may seem to drape yourself in one of your new girls, ultimately it’ll be a distraction - a secret you want to reveal, but can't. Having Quentin’s mind will be troubling already; imagine having a woman’s mind alongside you! (Though you could always avoid using the brown pen.)
You set Quentin’s and your replacement's skins inside the suit bag, leaving it hanging aside tomorrow’s clothes. You fight a little with sleep – with the desire to put on one of the girls – but exhaustion ultimately wins. Maybe weekends will be better for this.
--
Waking an hour earlier leaves you groggy but seeing Quentin’s head hanging from outside the suit bag reminds you of what you must do. You skip taking a shower, considering you’ll be wearing two skins and your replacement has barely been used, and immediately proceed to slip inside Quentin.
You assume that being inside Quentin’s mind yesterday made recovering easier, since you didn’t need the second alarm you set up with the note you so nicely wrote to yourself. (“You’re David in Quentin’s skin, dumbass!”) It’s still weird to be the mature mind, having to tolerate a man-child that’s supposed to be older than you – even Nick is more mature.
It’s even weirder to put on yourself again. The idea that your junk, already inside his, will be wrapped by his junk is the kind of bullshit philosophical question that comes when drunk or high. Something so absurd that it takes looking at the mirror, holding your own face while Quentin’s is stuck on your head, to realize it’s real.
It’s so absurd that it makes putting your clothes and cleaning your teeth awkward. Are you cleaning your teeth, his teeth, or your replacement’s teeth? If your replacement will be active for longer, should he use your toothbrush and your underwear or have his own?
The existential mindfuckery of what’s essentially wearing yourself and going to school with it, fully allowed by your mother, is already distracting you enough. You manage to step downstairs with plenty of time, noticing your mother – the one who decided to become Ashley, not Barbara in your mother’s replacement skin – cooking breakfast in a tanktop and shorts.
Getting a boner from that isn’t the most disturbing thing. It’s hearing Quentin’s comments about it. Jeez – what I’d give to tap that ass.
Dude, that’s my mom inside!
That’s your mom? (It seems they don’t retain any memory of when you wore them.) Man, you gotta ask her if she doesn’t mind a little scissoring.
You promptly ignore him, but she doesn’t ignore you. “Davey! I thought you’d take more time.”
“Didn’t have to take a shower. Will have to once I return, though.” You sit, spreading your legs unconsciously. “Remember I’ll be arriving late because I’ll be buying clothes for you-know-who.”
She turns around, shaken. “You’re doing what we talked about, right?”
“Mmhmm.”
“If you didn’t tell me that, I wouldn’t believe you’re wearing two skins.” She approaches you, rubbing your cheeks before touching the nape of your neck. “Good Lord – this is so crazy.”
You check your surroundings before answering. “I still think it’s crazy that you’re wearing her. And horrified that I have someone who has the hots for you in my mind.”
“Then try to keep that someone in check. You start flunking in classes despite having two minds, I’m taking them off.”
“I know.” You hear steps from upstairs, and as you watch, you see Barbara wearing your mother’s skin. As she sees you and your mother awake, she takes the opposite seat and groans.
“Didn’t expect to see you awake at this hour, David. Also – aren't I supposed to do breakfast, Sis?”
As if flicking a switch, your mother quickly changes her behavior. “Well, it’s not like you’ve done breakfast to anyone but yourself. Besides, I wanted to have some practice!”
“I feel I should have some practice, Ashley. You’ve been cooking pretty much every day.”
“It’s the best I can do for them,” she tells Barbara. “Remember - I still feel bad about what I did.”
“I know, but you need to let it go at some point.”
“At least until Claire goes to college! I want them to have some sort of emotional support.”
“I understand, but they’re not your children. Don’t get too attached to them.”
We are, you tell Barbara in your mind.
If your mom’s adopting new kids, I’d be willing to join your family.
Like Hell I will, you respond to Quentin, preventing you from noticing Claire’s terrified look.
“Uh... Davey? You’re... doing what we discussed yesterday, right?”
“I already told Ashley that I’d arrive late.”
“That’s so disturbing, y’know - knowing you’re putting on your ugly skin after wearing someone uglier than you.”
“Claire,” Barbara scolds your sister in your mother’s voice. “Stop it.”
“And that makes it even more disturbing. That sounded so much like Mom!”
“Maybe because Ashley’s helping me trying to act more like your mother. It’s still hard; she doesn’t feel like me at all.”
“Then let’s hope that David’s plan helps us fix things.” Your mother starts serving you breakfast, but it feels heavy on your stomach. There’s a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, and every day without results is a day Barbara might scratch closer to the truth.
--
Classes with Quentin tagging along were interesting.
For one, Quentin spent most of the time comparing your teachers to his in Tyneside High. Between that and checking on all the girls, you got yourself into a little trouble – the barely-held giggles and the demands for extended looks brought the attention of a lot of people towards you. (Especially when Sonya Xie crossed close to you, which brought Caitlin into the fold.)
Lunch time was just as interesting, as Quentin would – technically – meet your friends for the first time. Specifically Jimmy, who blindsides you. “Yo, David!”
“Dude! Don’t scare me!”
“I’m not scary.” He flanks you, accompanying you to one of the tables. “Hey, what’s been up with you? You’ve been super distant.”
“I didn’t wanna speak about this,” you tell him, “but some stuff happened during the last few days.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Heard what?”
“They’ve seen your dad at a house a few blocks away from you.”
“Who said that?”
“Someone from the neighborhood who told Mom. She’s been wanting to talk to yours for a while now, but no one's answering.”
Probably because Barbara doesn’t want to deal with Mom’s friends.
“She’s asking if she could do a visit, but she doesn’t want to anger your mom. I told her I’d ask you.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” You barely take a bite before Jimmy blindsides you again.
“Hey - wanna go home today and play some games? I’ve got an idea for a prank involving the school’s computers.”
Pranks? Quentin asks you. I could help.
“Jimmy, when are you gonna grow up?”
“You only go to high school once. Anyways – you recall the party Mackenzie threw like a week ago, right?”
“No, not really.”
“Well...” He draws close, then whispers. “We stole the cheerleader’s panties. I got Sonya’s!”
That's my kinda guy, Quentin tells you. He knows how to liven up things. You should go play games with him – hell, ask him about that prank! We could make it a lot easier for him!
You’re surprised that Quentin thinks Jimmy’s cool. No one at school does, other than Eric – one of your mutual friends – and Drew Collins and Jake Bennett and Bobby Costa – which aren’t. Everyone else thinks of him as immature, ugly and bothersome. You don’t blame him, though – he's lived without his father for as long as he’s known, raised only by his mother.
It’s surprising to think that you were, until now, the only one living with your two parents. Just like Jimmy, Jessica and Trish, you’re living with your mom now (for a given definition of a mother) and your parents are soon to be divorced. Yet, despite that, the girls ended up maturing faster than him.
You want him to, because he’s been your closest friend from as long as you’ve known him (with Trish beating him). You feel his other friends are a terrible influence and wish he’d have more. And that makes you wonder if he’d accept Quentin, and how much of an influence he’d be on him.
Though you’re unsure what would he think of someone who want to be a girl 24/7...
--
You take your study period to slip into the library. You still haven’t bought the flash drive, but you figure you could spend the time getting some stuff ahead.
As soon as you step into the very obsolete terminal in front of you – still using Windows XP – Quentin screams in joy. Whoa! This shit is old! Should be easy to break in.
You think you can slip in without getting found?
You feel your hand moving the mouse into Command Prompt. Sure. Just give me a couple minutes. Moving with their own cadence, your fingers start to write lines and prompts flooding in your mind. Triggering programs you didn’t know existed, reading statistics you have no idea what are meant for, jotting strings of numbers and letters you can’t hope to comprehend.
And then, he does something unexpected. Hit restart.
Why?
I got you admin access to this computer. I mean – I triggered a request that requires you to restart, and once we get into the BIOS, it should be easy to slip into the mainframe and create an admin account for you. That should let you bypass any blocking programs from the real ones.
You’re surprised by the development. You barely know how to type, browse and a fey key shortcuts, but anyone seeing you would claim otherwise.
And as a matter of fact, someone did. Perhaps the one person you least expected to notice.
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