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SRU / SRU High School: Student Exchange By Bill Hart Hank Sawyer was born Henry Alexander Sawyer, but to all his friends he was better known as Ox. Tonight found him sitting disconsolately with a small group of friends from the football team in the small bar across the street from the mall. Under normally circumstances, Hank would never dream of even touching any alcoholic beverage during the football season, but today was totally unlike any other day in his life. Today was the day that Ox and his gridiron buds had gathered together to commiserate about the loss of his football scholarship. "Tough break, Ox." said one. "Yeah, absolute bummer, dude." said another. "The team's gonna be up shit creek without you." said still another. Drinks flowed like water. No one cared. "It's bad enough losing my scholarship because my grades aren't so good." said Hank. "But when I tell my parents, the shit's really gonna hit the fan. They're really gonna lose it. And I'm gonna have listen to their 'we're really disappointed in you' sermon again." Now, there was the real problem. It had always been, and probably always would be, the problem. No matter what he did, Hank could never please his parents or measure up to either their standards or their expectations. His mother was a junior partner in a highly successful marketing agency. And his father held a founding partnership in one of the most lucrative law practices in the state. They'd always rubbed it in Hank's face that they considered him as nothing more than some dumb old football jock, and that _they_ were far superior than he could ever hope to be. And, at least it seemed to Hank, they never missed an opportunity to tell him what a major disappointment he'd always been to them. Sometimes he thought he'd been adopted, while at other times he wondered if the hospital might have accidentally switched him at birth with someone else's child. But Hank knew, even if his parents didn't, that he was not just another dumb old football jock. He been highly ranked among all the collegiate defensive ends in the country when the preseason polls were announced. Some even considered him a sure fire, can't miss first round draft selection. All he had to do was graduate and be drafted by one of the professional teams to be able to enjoy watching his parents eat several years worth of crow. However, Hank had another problem. His guidance counselors referred to him as "academically challenged." He wasn't stupid, just slow, very slow. His time in high school had been one long academic struggle. If he hadn't the motivation to prove his parents wrong, he would have probably dropped out. But his football skills had earned for him a scholarship and an entry into college, where, unfortunately for Hank, his academic woes continued unabated. Even the special classes reserved for athletes proved difficult for him. But once out on the football field, things were different for him. Very different. Everything about the game came intuitively for him when on the field, almost as if he knew the thoughts of his opponents. He had a rare and natural gift. And for the few things that didn't come naturally, he found ways to compensate. As he raced in for a sack, the opposition quarterback might become his father or his mother, whichever of the two topped his shit list for the day. Occasionally he would become so intensely focused on his projected illusion that he'd be penalized for a late hit. Hank remembered the day he told his parents about the scholarship at the small nearby college. They'd listened to his news with total disbelief written on their faces. For a moment, despite what he read on their faces, Hank had thought them actually pleased by something _he_ had accomplished. But that was a fleeting thought, which lasted - at most thirty seconds - until it became known to his parents that it was a football scholarship he'd earned. Immediately afterwards, they'd given him their standard one-hour lecture outlining what a disappointment he was to them. And now, that scholarship, his one moment of pride before his parents, was gone. With it went his dreams. Hank's memories of the past were interrupted when Jack Treadwell, one of the team's interior linemen, approached and asked "Want another drink, Ox?" "Sure. Why not." he answered. "By the way, have you seen Tom tonight? I'm sorta surprised he's not here yet." "I'll bet he's waiting for Stacey. You know, it must be really tough on Tom to be dating the head cheerleader." Jack grinned at the thought, wishing he could have that problem. "Especially tonight when they inconsiderately scheduled this major practice session for all the cheerleaders, while we're having this wake for the team." Just then Tom Daniels, the team's star quarterback and Hank's best friend ever since they'd been in grammar school, entered the room. Draped all over Tom was his girlfriend Stacey Minwell. "Sorry we're late, old buddy, but Stacey couldn't get out of that big cheerleader practice tonight. She'd bumped her headed at the practice and afterwards she wasn't feeling very well. For a while, I was really afraid we were gonna have to miss the party, but then, after we got back to her sorority house, she suddenly felt fine again. She decided we just couldn't miss this party, Hank. What can I say, except who can figure girls anyway?" "I quit trying to figure out girls a long time ago." replied Hank. Laughter rumbled through those present. "You know, Hank, we're really gonna miss you." added Tom. "Things won't be the same with the team with you gone." "We certainly will miss you, Oxy." said Stacey in a pouty little voice. She brushed away several strands of long blond hair out from in front of her blue eyes. Hank wondered if that _we_ meant Tom and Stacey, or the team. After all, she was the head cheerleader. Surely she couldn't be the flighty little airhead she often appeared to be. And just as surely she had to recognize what his absence would cost the team. But then, even though he didn't actually know her all that well, there were many times that she'd seemed uncommonly familiar to him. If she hadn't had such enormous boobs, he would have wondered why Tom was attracted to her. And she was also a member of that new sorority everyone on campus was constantly talking about. But that came as no surprise to anyone. She was a natural for the sorority that had quite obviously made huge breasts one of their entry requirements. "What are you going to do?" asked Tom. "I don't know. I'm not real anxious about going home and telling my parents that the school cancelled my scholarship. You know how they are." "You know, Oxy." said Stacey. "Over there in the mall, there's this little shop run by this old guy who sells magical stuff. Maybe he's got something that will patch things up between you and your parents." "Yeah, right." replied a disbelieving Hank. "Maybe he's got some magical trick that would turn me into someone really smart. Or even better, maybe he's got a magic wand or something else I could wave at them that would make them vanish in a puff of smoke. But I doubt there's any magic in the world that could ever be potent enough to affect them." "You never know, Oxy." smiled Stacey enigmatically. "And you never _will_ know if you don't go to Spells 'R Us and talk to the old man." * * * * * Even though he held no belief in magic, Hank found his thoughts continually drifting back to Stacey's suggestion to seek out the old man who ran the magic shop in the mall. "Spells 'R Us" she'd called it. Not an overly original name, thought Hank. But it wasn't long before he found himself saying his goodbyes and giving in to that irresistible compulsion to leave the party. As he opened the door to leave, he was surprised that Stacey had come over to say goodbye. He was even more surprised when she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then smiled at him and wished him "luck." He found her behavior very strange, inasmuch as she'd never paid him anywhere near this much attention before. And when he turned to leave, he had strangest feeling come over him. Leaving the party now was wrong, he felt. He should stay, at least for a little while longer. But what resistance he felt to seeking out the old man at his shop in the mall quickly melted away in the face of the compulsion to leave. Not only was the compulsion strong, but it grew stronger with each moment he delayed. And when he finally arrived at the shop, which he quickly found in its surprisingly prime mall location directly across from Sears, all of his thoughts centered on how silly he felt standing in front of this _magic_ shop and actually thinking about going inside to ask for help. What made him, or Stacey for that matter, think this old man could be of any help whatsoever? Sheepishly, and more than a little embarrassed, Hank turned to walk away. But as he did, the door of the shop opened and he heard the little bell above the entrance tinkle. In spite of all his doubts and misgivings, he turned back in the direction of the tinkling bell. "You're late, Henry." called the old man from the doorway. "I expected you here over a half hour ago. Don't just stand there gawking, young man. C'mon in. I guess, its better that you made it here late, instead of not arriving at all." "How'd you know my name?" questioned Hank. "Now really, Henry. Or would you prefer I call you Hank or Ox. This _is_ a magic shop. Don't you remember Stacey telling you I sold 'magical stuff' here?" "Well, yeah... but..." "Stacey likes to find people who either want or need my help, but would never think of coming here on their own. She's better for my business than any advertisement I could ever hope to imagine. I'm sure you'd agree that there is absolutely nothing better for a business than getting referrals from satisfied customers." "You mean Stacey..." "Please, don't ask, Hank." interrupted the old man. "I can't reveal any details - those fall directly under 'customer privilege' - but I can tell you that you'd never recognize the Stacey of today as the person who first entered my shop." "Then you can really help?" asked the still dubious Hank. "Cross my heart." replied the old man as he dramatically crossed his heart. "All you need to do is tell me what you want. Then I can take over from there." "Anything?" queried Hank suspiciously. "Certainly." replied the old man. "Anything at all." "You can fix things so my parents would be proud of me - you know, so I'd measure up to what they think I should have always been - and would give me some respect. And would it be possible for you to make me capable of learning things at the same speed as everybody else, so I won't have any more problems keeping up with my school assignments." "No problem, Hank. And while we're busy changing things, is there any other little detail you'd like to have thrown into this deal?" "Well... Could you make me this smart all the way back to my days in high school?" "Of course." grinned the old man. "Stay right here, I believe I have in stock exactly what you need. If I remember correctly, it should be on one of the top shelves in the backroom." The old man was in the back for only a few minutes. On his return, he held a small bottle containing a colorless liquid. "Here you go, Hank. Just drink the full contents of this bottle before you go to sleep tonight, and, when you wake up tomorrow morning, all of the current problems and troubles of Henry Alexander Sawyer will have faded into non-existence." Henry reached out and took the proffered vial from the old man. Its colorless contents looked suspiciously like water. In fact, he was certain that the old man had simply filled it with plain ordinary tap water from a faucet in the backroom. "How much?" he asked suspiciously. "Gratis, Hank. That is, it's on the house. Think of it as a favor to Stacey." It ought to be free thought Hank, wondering why the old man owed Stacey a favor. But as Hank left the shop, he was completely unaware of the smile that crossed the old man's face. * * * * * "You what?!" screamed his father. "How could you do this to _your_ mother and _me_? It was bad enough when I had to tell _my_ friends you were going to school on that totally impractical and utterly useless football scholarship, but what will they think of _me_ and your _poor mother_, when I tell them that you weren't even intelligent enough to hold on to it." "Oh, Henry." sighed his mother. "What are _we_ going to do with you? You know you are such a disappointment to _us_." Suddenly unable to take it any longer, Hank snapped back. "Would you two shut the fuck up." he yelled. "I'm fuckin' sick and tired of you two giving me nothin' but crap all the time. All you ever worry about are yourselves and how you feel. You never worry about me, and you couldn't give a damn about how I feel." "How dare you speak to _us_ like that, after all _we've_ done for you, young man." came his mother's haughty and imperious voice. "Go to your room!" came the order from his father. "Fine." replied Hank storming off. "And you can stay there until you're ready to apologize to _us_, young man." Hank slammed his bedroom door. "Can you believe he talked to _us_ that way?" said Hank's mother. "But he's always been a major disappointment to _us_." replied his father. * * * * * "I can't believe they sent me to my room." grumbled Hank. "I can't believe I let them send me to my room. Damn it, I'm twenty-three years old. I'm an adult, not some spoiled little teenager." Hank reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle that the old man had given him. He stared at it for a couple of minutes, before finally deciding to drink it. "So what if its only water. I'm not expecting anything miraculous to happen, so I can't be disappointed, but maybe the old man slipped something in there that will make me feel better." He unstoppered the bottle and chugged its contents. Suddenly sleepy, he stifled a yawn. As he undressed, he let his clothes fall to the floor in a heap. He slid into bed and quickly under the covers. And yawned again. Within less than a heartbeat, he was sound asleep. * * * * * Hank's dreamless sleep was interrupted when the music began playing from his clock radio. When had he set it? He didn't remember setting it. After all, he had no reason to set it. Today was just another a day now. A nothing special day, which started with him having no place to go and would probably end exactly the same way. So, with every intention of going back to sleep, he rolled over and pulled the covers back over his head. There came a knock at his door. "Are you up yet, sweetheart?" came a cheery woman's voice. "You don't want to be late for your first day of school, do you?" Sweetheart? First day of school? Something really weird was going on. "Mom? Is that you?" "Of course, it's me, dear. Do you want me to come in and help you pick out your clothes and get dressed?" "No. That's okay, I'll do it myself." came his confused reply. "Okay, honey. But you need to hurry up and get dressed, breakfast is almost ready. And after you finish eating, your father is going to drive you to school." What the hell was going on? Then suddenly it dawned on him. "The bottle the old man gave me!" thought Hank. "The old man had told me that if I swallowed its contents last night before I went to sleep, then all my problems and troubles would no longer exist when I woke up. And, if what's been going on so far is any indication, then it seems, he was right. He's worked a fucking miracle here. "Mom certainly sounded sugary sweet - definitely an improvement from her normally sour demeanor towards me. Although she's definitely going to drive me up the wall if she keeps it up for very long. And Dad is going to drive me to school? What school? Did they listen to anything I told them last night or not? Or could it be that, just maybe, my school trouble was one of those problems blown away when I drank the old man's potion. "This is really great. But I suppose I'd better get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast. It's probably in my best interest to humor them while they're being so nice to me. There's no telling how long the effects of this potion are going to last. "But if my problem with the school's been fixed, then I wonder if any of the guys will remember the party from yesterday. Damn, I wonder if there even was a party yesterday?" But when Hank's eyes opened, he was instantly struck by a peculiar sense of disorientation. For a few fleeting moments, he wondered where he was. Then just as suddenly the feeling passed. However, there was something very different about the _feel_ of his room. And somehow, his room also looked different than it had last night. But, if anyone would have asked him why, he couldn't have fingered anything specifically as being different. It was just another of those incredibly strange feelings - again. And in that same strange fashion, a feeling of difference had spread across his body. But just as before, he couldn't tell what, if anything, had changed. Jumping quickly out of bed, he scanned his room attempting to discern just what was different, what had changed. Impossibly, things looked bigger than he remembered. It was as if his perspective had changed to one of a shorter person. How could he have shrunk during the night, he wondered? Wasn't that impossible? But still, that inalienable sense of difference continued to pervade upon his thoughts. Lost in those thoughts, he absently reached up and brushed his long brown hair away from his face and out of his eyes. "Wait just one minute!" exclaimed Hank, suddenly realizing what he had just done. "I don't have long hair." He rushed to the mirror -- where had it come from? -- standing atop his dresser. He gasped at the image of the young girl staring back at him. "This is fucking unreal." he muttered to himself, as he continued to stare in disbelief at his new reflected image. It wasn't as if he'd become some great ravishing beauty overnight. He thought the girl in the mirror was kind of pretty - no, on second thought - she was cute. Definitely cute - that was a far better description for her then pretty. But other than that, average best described her. She appeared to be an average, ordinary, fifteen, possibly even sixteen, year old girl. Average figure. Average sized boobs. With stringy, shoulder-length brown hair. In fact, she could have been the younger sister that Hank had always dreamed of having. "What was in that bottle?" he thought. "I've got to get to the mall. I hope I can talk that old man into reversing this." But first, he had to get dressed. He found silk panties and bras in one of the dresser's drawers. And in the closet, next to the pair of jeans he took out to wear, hung several dresses. Dressing his female form was a totally new experience for him, but somehow, exactly how he didn't know, he managed fairly well. And after he brushed out her hair, she looked, at least to Hank, reasonably presentable. Without much hope of his reflection being male again, he quickly took another peek into the mirror. He was still a girl, but he noticed a purse (had that been there before?) sitting on the dresser. Cautiously and somewhat nervously, he picked it up and opened it. Quickly perusing its contents, he found only two things that held any special interest for him - a credit card and a driver's education learner's permit. Both were issued in the name of _Heather Alesandra Sawyer_. And, if today's date were still the day after the date Hank considered yesterday, then, according to the date of birth on Heather's permit, she was just four months past her sixteenth birthday. The old man's potion had made her a teenaged girl. * * * * * When Heather joined her parents at the breakfast table, she was amazed at how courteous and polite they were to her. They'd never treated her this way when she was Hank. And strangely, it seemed they were always complimenting her on something. They were acting downright eerie. Her mother had been super-sugary sweet to her all morning long. And her father had been so nice, he could have given maple syrup lessons in sweetness. "I have this really bad feeling that this potion and spell shit wasn't such a hot idea after all." she thought, as she found herself wishing her parents would just shut up for a while and leave her alone. "If this is really their idea of respect, then I'm almost glad I didn't get any when I was Hank." But as worried as she might have been about how her parents now treated her, she might have been even more worried, if she'd realized that she was now thinking about Hank in the third person, or thinking of herself with female pronouns. * * * * * Heather was relieved when the ordeal her mother called breakfast mercifully came to an end. Their niceness had been pure and simple total hell to endure. She now found herself in desperate need of time away from them. "It's time to go to school, princess." said her father. "Can I drive, daddy? Can we stop at the mall on the way? There's someone I just absolutely have to see there." "I don't think so, princess. I'll drive, dear." replied her father. "Maybe after you get your driver's license, I'll buy you a car of your own. How would you like that? As for the mall, it can wait until after school." "Oh, all right." pouted Heather, as she wondered if her father would really buy her a car when she passed her driver's examination. Now that would be even better than the credit card he'd given her for her sixteenth birthday. * * * * * It was a short drive to the school. Fortunately, for the sake of Heather's future sanity, she'd quickly decided en route that a short morning walk to school would be far less aggravating then listening to her father's inane and perpetual chatter. Even worse than that, it seemed her new identity tended to take control of her from time to time when she spoke with one of her parents. But more importantly, at least for tonight, the mall was between home and the school. And she fervently hoped that the old man would be able to reverse the unwanted effects of his potion tonight. But, as her father pulled in the driveway at the school, Heather was totally surprised at having arrived at Aggie Tech. "This is a high school, daddy." she'd blurted out. "Of course it is. Just where else would my little princess be going to school?" "Yeah. Where else? I guess I should get out, and start trying to find my way around my new school." I can't believe this is happening to me, she thought. "I'll come back and pick you after school lets out, honey. I wouldn't want you to have to walk all the way home tonight, princess." "That's okay, daddy. I'll be alright walking home - its not really all that far. Besides, I'm going by the mall after school. Remember?" "Oh yes, of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, dear." replied her father. "But, don't forget, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me at work, and I'll be here as quickly as I possibly can." "I will daddy." said Heather as she opened the car door and stepped out on the sidewalk which would lead her down the halls of Aggie Tech. "I love you, sweetheart." "I know you do, daddy." said Heather closing the car door, then silently watching her father drive away. She sighed. "Oh shit! Is this ever going to be . . . Heeeyyyy. Stop that, you asshole!" she screamed at the boy who had just come up from behind her and groped her breasts. "You'd better run fast!" yelled a nearby girl as the boy fled. "Damn it. I'm sorry you had to meet Aggie Tech's resident pervert on your first day here, Heather. That was Marty Nichols. He's such an ignorant pig." At the mention of her name, Heather turned to look for the girl who had spoken. She had short light brown hair and was probably the same age as her. Strangely, she very looked familiar. But how could that be, wondered Heather, who didn't know any high school girls. Suddenly, the mystery cleared and she knew exactly who this girl was. "You're Sarah Daniels, aren't you?" she asked the girl. She wanted to add "You're Tom's little sister." but thought better of it and didn't. "I'm surprised you remember me, Heather. Its been a couple of years since we went to summer camp together. If you'd like, I'll show you around the school, and, if you want to file a complaint about Marty, I'll take you to see Principal Thompkins. He's been trying, without success, to convince Marty that we don't like it when he grabs our breasts, but Marty acts pretty dense sometimes. Although I wonder if its really an act. You know, sometimes I wish he were a girl with big breasts, and had to put up with assholes like him all the time." "I'm sure that would give him a new and vastly improved perspective on the things he does." sighed Heather in agreement. * * * * * "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the longer tour," said Sarah, "but, if we're going to stop and see Mr. Thompkins before class starts, then you'll have to settle for just the highlights tour right now." "That's okay. Where's Mr. Thompkins office?" "Before we go, let me show you where your home room is, so you won't be late and get into trouble on your first day. Who's your home room teacher?" After looking at her schedule, Heather replied, "Mrs. Larkins." "Hey, that's great, Heather. We're in the same home room. And even if we're a little late getting to class, she'll understand completely once we tell her we were in Principal Thompkins' office complaining about Marty Nichols." "Hi, Sarah." interrupted a male voice. "How's it going today? Who's your friend." Sarah turned around. "Oh, hi Keith." she replied. "This is Heather Sawyer. This is her first day here at good old Aggie Tech." Turning back to Heather, she adds, "Heather, this is Keith Helms, a friend of mine from Future Teachers." "Nice to meet you, Keith." said Heather as she stuck her hand out. "Definitely, my pleasure, Heather." he replied, as he took her extended hand and kissed it. "By the way, would you be interested in signing my petition. We're trying to get the dress code changed so guys can wear shorts when the weather turns hot." "Sure. That sounds fair to me. Where do I sign?" "Right here." replied Keith holding out a paper. Heather took the paper and glanced through it without really reading it. After signing her name, she handed the petition back to Keith. "Good luck." she said. "I'm sure it'll be accepted. Principal Thompkins is a fair man." he answered. "By the way, Heather, would you like to go to the dance with me a week from Friday?" "Can I let you know later?" blushed Heather, who definitely wanted to remain non-committal about making a date right now. Especially if that date were with a boy. "Of course. But I'll just keep asking you until you say 'yes,' so you could save both of us a lot of time by saying 'yes' now. Don't you agree?" "I'll let you know later." "Suit yourself. I've got more signatures to collect right now. And anyway, I'll just ask you again, the next time I see you." said Keith as he left whistling a happy tune. "Is he like that all the time, Sarah?" "If you mean not afraid to speak his mind or champion some cause, then yes, he's like that all the time. On the other hand, if you mean his hitting on you and asking you out on a date, then I'd say no, he's only like that when there are girls around." "Oh." mumbled Heather. And to herself she thought, "And what am I going to do if that old man can't change me back?" With nothing else causing them further delay, Sarah and Heather finally arrived at the office of the principal, Theodore Thompkins. His new secretary, Jane Cabot, greeted them as they entered. "Morning, Ms. Cabot." replied Sarah. "This is Heather Sawyer and today's her first day here. If Mr. Thompkins isn't too busy, can we talk to him for a couple of minutes." "I'll check with him." said Jane. "Can you let me know what's it about?" "It's about Marty Nichols. Again." "Oh, that boy. I think he spends more time in here then Mr. Thompkins does. And it never seems to do any good." Turning towards Heather, she asked, "Are you all right?" "I guess so." blushed Heather. "It's just that I've never had anybody grab my breasts before." And that's no lie, she thought. "Why don't you sit down. I don't think he had anything planned for this morning, but let me check and see if he's available right now." But before Ms. Cabot had time to rise from her chair, the outer office door swung open as a boy and a girl rushed in. The boy walked oddly hunched over, while the girl wore a baggy T-shirt apparently several sizes too big. Between them they carried some weird-looking kind of statue. "We have to see Mr. Thompkins right away!" exclaimed the girl. "Yeah, right away!" echoed the boy. "It's a matter of life or death!" Without hesitation, they hustled straight past where Heather and Sarah sat waiting, and right on into the principal's office. And, as if to make matters worse, they slammed the door shut behind them. "Who were they?" asked Heather. "To put it bluntly," replied Jane, "those two are trouble. The girl is Bonnie Burke, whose mother is President of the School Board. The boy is Bonnie's boyfriend, Clyde Smith." "Most of us just call them Bonnie and Clyde, for the obvious reason." added Sarah. "They go to the mall and shoplift things. Then, the next day they brag about their thefts and not getting caught. I'll bet they stole that statue." "That wouldn't surprise me." remarked Jane. "But Mr. Thompkins will listen to whatever story they've concocted, because he wants to be totally fair to everyone." "Isn't it a little unusual for a girl the same age as us to be that flat-chested?" asked Heather innocently. She was amazed when both Sarah and Ms. Cabot started laughing. "Flat-chested???" chuckled Jane. "Bonnie Burke??? No way!" "We'll have to find someone to check your eyesight, Heather." said Sarah. "It must have been the baggy T-shirt." And in an obviously envious tone added, "Don't tell anyone I said this, but Bonnie Burke must have the biggest pair of tits on campus. Everybody, with the exception of Bonnie, knows that they're the _two biggest_ reasons why Clyde likes her so much. He's so plastic, it isn't even funny." And when the Sarah's and Jane's laughter resumed, a somewhat confused Heather, who had no doubts about seeing what she'd thought she'd seen, joined in. * * * * * Several minutes later, the door to the inner office opened. From inside, they heard a young girl's voice scream out "I ... want ... my ... mommy!!!" When Principal Thompkins left his inner office, he was holding the hand of a sniffling, little freckled-faced girl. In her other hand she clung tenaciously to her little plastic _Ken_ doll. "Jane, could you find out what's holding up the req's for those two new teachers. I have to take Bonnie back over to day care. Her mother will be there to pick her up in about an hour. I should only be gone a few..." Then, as he turned to continue out the door, he noticed the two waiting girls. "Oh, excuse me, Sarah. I didn't know anyone was waiting to see me." "That's okay, Mr. Thompkins. _We_ understand" replied Sarah, while looking down at little Bonnie. "This is Heather Sawyer. Today's her first day here." "Its nice to meet you, Miss Sawyer." responded the principal. "I've read your records. They state you're an exceptional student. I only wish we had more students with your academic abilities here. I doubt you'll find any reason not to like it here at Aggie Tech." "Does that include, Marty Nichols?" asked Heather hesitantly. "Already? You haven't even been to your first class and he's already accosted you. Damn, that boy. "Jane, after you check on those reqs, would you find Mr. Nichols and bring him to my office as soon as possible. It looks like we're going to have another in our series of long discussions about girls - namely, what is and isn't proper when meeting a girl for the first time. "And the two of you had better head for your homeroom classes. I'll take care of Mr. Nichols after I return from taking Bonnie to day care." "Thank you, Mr. Thompkins." echoed both girls as they left his office headed for class. But they hadn't gone far, when Heather turned to Sarah and asked "Did you notice anything strange or peculiar about Bonnie when she came out of the principal's office?" "No. Not really." replied Sarah. "For as long as I've known her, she's been a spoiled little brat, but everybody says she'll grow out of it when she gets older." And as they continued on to class, Heather wondered silently about all the strange things going on around her, and began to worry what would happen next. Maybe she was going crazy. * * * * * The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. That is, if you discount the fourteen additional times that Keith Helms asked her to go with him to the dance. He'd been so persistent, that she almost said "yes" the last time, just so he'd shut up and leave her alone. But her common sense prevailed in the nick of time. After all, if the old man could undo the effects of his potion, then _she_ wouldn't be an Aggie Tech student, nor would _she_ have to worry about the dance at all. Of course, she couldn't explain any of that to Keith. He wouldn't have understood. She decided to just keep putting him off until either she became Hank again or, as Hank had previously experienced, Keith simply grew tired of being turned down or put off and went away. A simple solution. But as she was leaving the school grounds, there was Keith waiting on the sidewalk. "Have you decided to go to the dance with me, Heather?" "Not yet. I told you I'd let you know when I decide." "But if you wait too long, its just possible I'll have found and asked another girl who won't keep me waiting so long to say 'yes' to me. Then you won't have a date for the dance." "That's okay, Keith. It's a risk I'm willing to take." A car horn sounded. "That's my mom." said Keith. "I've got to go." After getting in the car, he rolled down the window and waved. "I'll see you tomorrow, Heather." "I can hardly wait." she mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief, as the Helms' car pulled away from the curb, then headed down the street away in the opposite direction from the mall. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more problems - at least for the rest of today. "Unless," came an unbidden and worrisome thought as she walked briskly towards the mall. "That old man can't reverse his potion." * * * * * As Heather walked along the road towards the mall, cars had whizzed by her and several of their drivers had tooted their horns at her. She'd never felt happier, or more relieved, in her life to get someplace then she had when she finally arrived at the mall. But even as she entered the mall through the side door, a couple of boys had whistled and leered at her. "Boys!" she thought to herself thoroughly disgusted by their actions. "You'd think they'd never seen a girl before. Hank was certainly never like that." But where was the shop? Had it closed and disappeared overnight? Heather looked frantically about until she spotted the little Spells 'R Us sign hanging over the little shop in an even smaller nook in an easy-to-overlook cranny next to Sears. Greatly relieved, she walked towards the shop, still annoyed at herself for thinking that it had been in plain sight directly across from Sears last night. After all, stores didn't change locations overnight. As she entered the shop, she heard the little bell above the door tinkle. Standing behind the counter stood the old man. "Good afternoon, Heather." stated the old man before she could open her mouth to speak. "Welcome back to my little shop." "Can the crap!" replied Heather. "What the hell have you done to me, old man?" "To you, I've done nothing. I gave Hank a simple potion to eliminate his problems, and remake those things that _once were_ into the things that _now are_, just as he wanted them to be." "That's not true." she replied. "I didn't want to be a teenager. And I sure as hell didn't want to be a girl." "Maybe not directly. Although I will admit, I am quite surprised that you even remember being Hank at all. Most of my clients have this tendency to forget who they _once were_ as they get help becoming who they _now are_." More than a little confused by the double talk, Heather asked "What the hell are you talking about?" "Simply speaking, you are not the only person providing input into what we shall call the potion's spell matrix. I really hate to anthropomorphize, but this kind of spell more often than not acts as if it were guided by rational thought. "Basically, it simply starts with _your_ wants, needs, and desires. Then it probes the subconscious thoughts and desires of others near you in order to determine what is required for the best possible fulfillment of those wants. It throws these requirements into the mix, so to speak, more often than not with unpredictable results. And finally, as you sleep, you transform, normally without retaining any knowledge of who you used to be." Heather lifted her arms, holding them away from her sides. "But why this?" she asked puzzled. "Think about what you wanted." "I wanted to be smarter." she replied. "And are you?" "I guess so." "C'mon Heather, didn't Mr. Thompkins tell you this morning that your records 'state you're an exceptional student?' Didn't he also wish he had more students like you?" "He did say that." smiled Heather as she remembered the principal's words. "I think I really must be smarter, but, with all the other changes, I hadn't really noticed. But why did I have to change into a girl to become smarter? That doesn't make any sense at all." "And it shouldn't make any sense to you, because, quite frankly, your increased intelligence has absolutely nothing to do with your change of gender. An old witch to whom I was once apprenticed used to say all the time 'Brains ain't got no sex, and the sooner you learns that brains is just brains, the better off you'll be.'" Noticing the puzzled look on Heather's face, he quickly added "Don't worry, that old saying of hers never made much sense to me when I was a lad either, but sometimes things get clearer as you get older. And other times, they don't." "But if that's true, then why am I a girl?" "Do you remember what else Hank wanted, Heather?" "The respect of his parents. He didn't like being treated like shit." "Ah. I believe you've struck the proverbial nail squarely on the head." replied the old man. "Do they respect you now?" "In their way, I guess they do. But I'm not too sure I'd call that nauseating sweetness of theirs respect. Sometimes it gets so bad I think I'm going to puke. But it is definitely better than all the verbal abuse they usually heaped on Hank. "Wait a minute - you're telling me that I changed into a girl because I wanted my parents respect. That's total bullshit. Just when did parental respect become a function of gender? I would have thought my sex had nothing due with earning anybody's respect." "In most cases," replied the old man, "that would have been one of life's few absolute truths. But, sadly, yours is not most cases, Heather." "What?!" "In your case, the spell had virtually no other option other than making you female, if you truly wanted your parents' respect. There was an extremely small probability of you remaining male, but, again, because of certain attitudes of your parents, that possibility was less than unlikely. Especially when you factor in the tendency towards extreme simpleness - some call it laziness - in the way this potion acts to realize its matrix. "To put it simply, Heather, you are now a girl, because becoming a girl lay along the path of least resistance to that realization. Do you understand?" "I think so." answered Heather. "I'm not quite as confused as I was, but just what the hell do my parents have to do with any of this?" "A fair question. I'll try to explain how I perceive it. "Before your parents, two young and successful professionals, married, they had decided not to have any children. But contraceptives fail from time to time and your mother became pregnant. As it sometimes happens, your mother fell in love with the idea of becoming a mother _and_ of having a daughter. And she, in turn, convinced your father that he wanted to be a father. Not many would have known of their disappointment when their son was born." "I never knew any of this." whispered Heather. "Hank was never meant to know." replied the old man. "And I have no idea, if even they ever consciously knew what they were doing to him. But now, none of that disappointment, particularly Hank's learning disability and his love of football, ever existed. Since the potion knew that Hank could never live up to the expectations your parents had for their child, you are now Heather, who is everything they ever wanted in their daughter." "Then why am I sixteen and in high school instead twenty-three and in college? What was in this for them?" "Being sixteen and in high school has absolutely nothing to do with your parents, Heather. I'm afraid _that_ is entirely your fault." "My fault? How can it be my fault? I didn't ask to be sixteen." "Not directly. Do you remember the last thing Hank wanted?" Heather shook her head. "Hank wanted to be smart all the way back . . ." ". . . to my days in high school." finished Heather. "Oh shit. And I'll bet that stupid lazy potion took the quickest and easiest path towards realizing its matrix by making me a high school student." "Brilliantly deduced, my dear." "But can you undo this? Can you change me back?" "To be honest, I don't know. If you'd like, I can try, but I've never been asked to negate the effects of this particular potion before. Actually, it has never really been necessary before, and I wouldn't like to bet on it being possible. But, for some reason, you're not like any of my customers who took that potion. You didn't forget you were once Hank after you became Heather. And that, I believe, implies reversal just might be possible." "Can you do it now, or should I come back tomorrow?" "Tomorrow would be too soon." replied the old man. "I'd guess it will take a minimum of at least three or four days - possibly as long as a week - to get some definite answer back from the wizard's council. Give me a few days before you come back." "But what will I do until then?" she whined. "I'd recommend you do what all the other sixteen-year-olds are doing right now. Get up in the morning and go to school." "Do I have to?" pouted Heather. "Of course you do, young lady." said the old man. "And Heather, there's one more thing you need to know." "What's that." "While you're at Aggie Tech, it would be an exceptionally good idea to stay away from that scale in Mr. Thompkins' office. It has been my experience that mixing different types of magics has never been a good idea." "Then I'm not going crazy after all. I was really worried when nobody remembered Bonnie Burke as anybody other then that obnoxious little girl who came crying out of Mr. Thompkins' office, and when nobody even remembered Clyde Smith at all." The old man looked at Heather incredulously. "Amazing. You remember those two young thieves both before and after, as well. In all the time I've run this shop. . . How would you like to work here?" * * * * * Heather had much to ponder as she walked home from the mall. Her chat with the old man had cleared up many things that had been extremely confusing to her just this morning. It was evident to her that Hank had never considered that the potion might not _fix_ things according to whatever his plan, if any, had been. It would have been very easy to blame Hank, who'd obviously made a quick and rash decision drinking the potion, but she doubted that she would have done anything differently given the same set of circumstances. Besides, how could she blame Hank for anything without blaming herself at the same time. The only thing that had actually worked out well was his request to be smarter. Both the old man and Mr. Thompkins had made it perfectly clear to her that she was definitely smarter than she had been as Hank. But for right now, she was also a teenage girl. That definitely hadn't been her idea but there was certainly no denying the obvious, and, in all likelihood, she was probably going to remain a girl for the next few days. She had been disappointed that the old man couldn't reverse the effects of his potion immediately, but at least he hadn't completely crushed her hopes by saying it was impossible. She decided to let the old man have the whole week before she'd return to his shop to be restored. Getting through a week, even as a girl, should be simple. It looked like her biggest problem would probably be Keith Helms' continual pestering of her for a date. And strangely, the potion had apparently provided her with a new best friend, Sarah Daniels, who was the younger sister of Hank's old best friend Tom. Hank had never paid much attention to his friend's younger sister, but now they were both the same age and gender. Sarah always seemed to be there when she needed a friend or when she needed to talk to someone. The potion certainly went about realizing its matrix in mysterious ways. But more important than anything else she had learned today from the old man was the knowledge of a magical scale, which could change people into other people or things just like the potion had changed her, existing in the principal's office. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to use that scale as an emergency backup to restore herself to normal. The old man had warned her of the potential danger of mixing magics together. However, in spite of those warnings, she still wondered if, just possibly, she might be able to use the scale's power to selectively cancel out and then replace parts of the existing spell's matrix. But, in addition, she wondered if it were really wise to put her trust in this magical scale. After all, wasn't it just this morning, that it had remolded Bonnie Burke mentally and physically into a whiney little girl and shrunk Clyde Smith into a _Ken_ doll. And, excepting herself and the old man, no one had even noticed anything out of the ordinary. Would it do what she wanted it to do when she wanted it done? She didn't think so. And why had the old man really offered her a job? * * * * * "Hi, mom. I'm home." said Heather as she bounded into the kitchen, where her mother was busily preparing dinner. "How was the new school, sweetheart?" "Oh, I guess it was alright. Everybody there seemed really friendly and nice. After a while I felt right at home there." she told her mother. Of course, she knew her mother would totally freak, if she even hinted at the groping of her breasts by Marty Nichols. She knew it would be far better to withhold that kind of information, then to watch her mom go ballistic over an incident best forgotten. And besides, Mr. Thompkins had said he would take of Marty. "I'm sure I made a lot of new friends today, too." "That's nice, dear. Was one of them Sarah Daniels?" "How did you know that, mom?" "She called a little while ago and was surprised you weren't home yet, but I told her you were at the mall." "What did she want? Did she want me to call her back?" queried Heather. "No. You don't have to call her back. That is, unless you don't want her coming over in the morning, so the two of you can walk to school together." "That's great, mom." she replied. And then, she spotted a candy bar on the counter and realized she was hungry. "Mom? Can I have that candy bar? I'm really hungry." "Not right now, dear. It's too close to dinner time for you to be snacking. You wouldn't want to spoil your dinner, would you? I've made your favorite. And besides, we both know where all that sugar and fat in that candy bar would eventually wind up, don't we?" "Okay." Heather answered sullenly. "I'm going up to my room. Let me know when dinner's ready." * * * * * In her room, Heather found herself still surprised by the female image reflected back at her from the mirror. Shock hadn't given her much time this morning to really look at herself and now, she decided, was as good a time as any to do a little inventory. As she undressed, she carefully laid her clothes out on her bed. Wearing just her bra and panties, she slowly turned back towards the mirror. If she'd been surprised and somewhat shocked this morning, she was totally flabbergasted now. Her body appeared to be nicely curved in all the right places needing to be nicely curved, although she couldn't help thinking she might be a little overweight. And her average-sized boobs looked a little bigger than they had this morning. "Damn." she muttered to herself striking a sexy pose in front of the mirror, while, at the same time, wondering why she did. "It's a good thing that potion didn't make me beautiful, or I'd fighting off all the boys at school, instead of just having Keith chasing after me." Then she cupped a breast and sighed. "I'm sure glad these aren't any bigger, or all the girls would hate and envy me, just like they did poor Bonnie before _her_ change. But it would be really nice," as she ran a hand through her stringy hair, "if this had a little more body to it." She slid into a pair of shorts, but they felt tight about her waist. Suddenly she was glad her mom hadn't let her eat that candy bar. She must be getting fat. And it must have been obvious to her mom, who had reminded her where all the fat and sugar in it would eventually wind up, that she was getting fat. But good old mom could never tell her things like that straight out, because mom never wanted to hurt her feelings. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Honey, your father's home and dinner's ready." "I'll be right down, mom." replied Heather. But as she heard her mother go down the stairs, she muttered to herself, "What am I doing? And what the hell was I thinking? I'm not fat, I'm downright skinny." She slipped her baggy, short-sleeved sweatshirt over her head. Then she turned to check her reflection one last time. "That's better." she sighed. "At least I almost look like a boy again." But _almost_ echoed through her mind as she bounded down the stairs, still wondering from what corner of her mind those girlish thoughts had originated. "Almost?" echoed through her mind again. And in her mind's eye she saw the last image of herself as reflected from the mirror. Those smooth girlish legs. That tight little ass. Those nicely shaped curves, even with that overweight tummy. And lastly, those perky tits that pushed out the front of her sweat shirt. "Almost?" reverberated the thought again, this time tinged with laughter. "Well, maybe not." she thought. "But right now, I'd settle for that damn old man finding a way to reverse that stupid potion of his. A week? Shit! I only hope, I _can_ survive that long." * * * * * Dinner did not turn out to be a repeat performance of the sickening sweet scenario that breakfast had been in the morning. But it was still bad enough. Although she still received plenty of compliments and praise from her parents, at least, she remembered doing these notable and praiseworthy things. It wasn't like breakfast, when she'd been praised for the silliest of little things, many of them completely unknown to her. Maybe things were starting to balance out with them. Hopefully, within a few days, they'd be acting, more or less, like her normal parents again. When dinner ended, Heather cleared the dishes from the table, then loaded them into the dishwasher. "Heather, after you start the washer," called her mother from the den, "Come out here. Your father and I have a surprise for you." I wonder what kind of surprise, thought Heather. As she entered the den, her father was putting a tape in the VCR. "I stopped at the video store on my way home, princess." smiled her father. "To celebrate your first day at Aggie Tech, I rented that movie you've been dying to see." Movie? What movie? Heather didn't remember any movie she'd been dying to see. A football movie would be nice. But, no, that didn't seem overly likely. Maybe, one of those new horror or science fiction flicks. That would be a great way to spend the evening. And then her father started the VCR. "Oh no." thought Heather, as the opening credits began to roll. "It's one of those silly tearjerker movies. Whatever made daddy think I'd want to watch this stupid fluff. I wonder if there's any way, I can get out of watching this crap." But aloud, she could only sigh. "Your father and I just knew you'd love this movie, Heather." replied her mother in response to her daughter's sigh. And for the next hour and fifty-three and a half minutes, Heather sat entranced, sometimes teary-eyed, as she watched what she now felt had to be the greatest movie she had ever seen in her entire life. Sometime during the movie, totally unnoticed by the spellbound Heather, her parents had fallen asleep. As the closing credits rolled, she left her sleeping parents undisturbed on the couch, and went upstairs to bed. * * * * * In the morning, Heather woke once again to the music from her clock radio. Unlike yesterday, she was quickly out of bed and dressed in her jeans and a cotton blouse. The jeans would be alright today, but she knew that tomorrow, unless she could buy a few more pair of pants after school, she'd have to wear a dress. And she was totally unready to do that. Besides there were only six more days until she went to reclaim her normal self again. She hoped. Breakfast passed without incident. In fact, it was more normal than dinner had been. Heather loved the quietness at the table, but down deep, she wondered if her parents were mad at her for leaving them asleep on the couch last night. The doorbell rang. "I'll get it." said Heather. "It's probably Sarah." She went to the door and opened it. "Morning, Sarah." "You ready to go?" "Just about." She turned back towards the table. "Mom, Dad. This is my friend Sarah Daniels. Sarah, this is my mom and dad." "Its nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer." "And its our pleasure to meet you, Sarah." replied Mrs. Sawyer. "Would you like to stay for supper tonight?" "I'll have to ask my mom. I'll call her before we leave the school this afternoon and ask her if its alright. Then Heather can call you and let you know." "Shouldn't the two of you be headed for school?" questioned Mr. Sawyer. "We wouldn't want either of you to be late." "Its not that long a walk, Mr. Sawyer." replied Sarah. "But maybe we'd better going, Heather." Turning to Heather, she smiled. "We should make it to school with plenty of time to spare." * * * * * They hadn't gone far, when their girl talk, interlaced with giggling, turned to a decidedly more serious topic. Boys. "Have you decided if you're going to let Keith take you to the dance?" asked Sarah hesitantly. "Not you too. Its bad enough having Keith ask me every time I turn around. Is there something in this for you, I don't know about?" "No, not really. I just think the two of you would make a really hot couple." replied Sarah. "Besides, if you were dating Keith, then maybe you could have him put in a good word for me with his friend Tony Madison." "Aha." giggled Heather. "The truth comes out." Sarah blushed. "But my mom would have a shit fit if she knew I was even remotely interested in Tony. She doesn't like him." "Why not." "Well, for starters, up until last year he used to be really close friends with Marty Nichols." "Definitely a big strike against him there." "But he's not really that bad. Marty is just this incredibly bad influence on him. And anyway, the sexual harassment scandal the two of them were caught up in last year was all Marty's fault. You've met Marty. And if you'll excuse my saying so, you've had a first hand introduction to how _he_ is." "Please don't remind me." "And Tony didn't get into any trouble, but a lot of people think that was more related to his Chalker Cup participation then his guilt or innocence. And besides, he refuses to speak to Marty anymore." "I don't know. He seems like trouble to me. Why do you want to go out with him anyway." Sarah blushed even brighter than before. "Because he's a senior ..." Blushing still brighter she quietly added, "And because he's such a hunk." Heather looked at her friend for a moment, then started to giggle. It wasn't long before Sarah joined in. As they neared the front of the school, there was Keith, trying to collect signatures on his dress code petition. With him was a guy she didn't recognize and, together, the two of them were trying to convince this pretty blonde and her boyfriend to sign the paper. Heather had no idea who the girl was, but the boy looked strangely familiar. "Who are those people talking to Keith?" asked Heather. "The red-haired boy is Tony Madison. Don't you think he's a hunk? I told you he was a hunk." replied Sarah. "The other guy is another one of the football players, Wally Treadwell." "Wally Treadwell. No wonder he looked so familiar." thought Heather as his name jarred her memory and she now recognized him as the brother of Jack Treadwell. "I wonder how many siblings of Hank's football cronies I'm going to cross paths with while I'm stuck here as a student." "And the girl is Christy Brickell. Yesterday, the word was that she and Wally were history, but it sure looks as if they've made up since then. But I doubt this reconciliation will last very long, unless she's learned to control her jealousy. She's such a spoiled little snot." As they drew closer, they could hear Keith tell them "It's going to be another hot day. Help us by signing the petition to change the dress code, so we guys can be comfortable too. Its only fair." As Sarah and Heather joined the little group, Christy and Wally had just returned the petition to Keith after signing it. When Keith spied Heather, he asked the inevitable question. "Have you decided to go to the dance with me yet, Heather?" "Not yet, Keith. I'll let you know." But as she answered, she suddenly felt uncomfortable as she intuitively felt both Wally and Tony staring at her. And to worsen matters, Christy had also sensed them staring at Heather and started thinking of her as competition. Heather shuddered, as if actually feeling the daggers from Christy's icy stare. "This is Heather Sawyer. She's new." said Keith. "And these guys are Wally, Tony, and Christy. And, of course, you all know Sarah." "Hi, Tony." gushed Sarah. "I'll be gathering signatures all day so I probably won't see much of you today, Heather. I'm hoping to have over a hundred signatures when Tony and I go to see Mr. Thompkins tomorrow morning. Hopefully, the petition will force him to act immediately." "What if he won't see you tomorrow?" asked Sarah. "Don't worry, he'll see us." grinned Keith. "Well, good luck, Keith." said Heather feeling very relieved after hearing him say he'd be too busy to see her. If he were busy collecting signatures all day, then chances were good he wouldn't be pestering her for the rest of the day. "We'd better head for class, Sarah. We don't want to be late. See you all later." And as Heather and Sarah walked off towards their class, four sets of eyes, not all of them friendly, followed their every move. * * * * * To Heather the time spent in class on her second day was remarkably similar to her first day. In fact, it was so similar she found herself thinking of it as a video replay. But the similarities between her first two days at Aggie Tech ended abruptly once she was outside the class room. Everything had been totally different. And absolutely nothing had been remotely close to what she'd expected. From what Keith had told her the day before, she hadn't expected to see him all day, which meant a quiet day without his incessant repetition of the question she found so infuriating. But even though he had kept himself busy collecting signatures for his petition, he'd still found and surprised her six times during the day. She couldn't believe he wasn't getting tired of asking her to the dance, especially since she was trying so hard to put him off. And during the day, a few other annoying boy problems had surfaced. Not only had Tony Madison and Wally Treadwell asked to take her to the dance, but at least a dozen other boys, whose names she either didn't know or didn't remember, had wanted her to go with them. What did all these boys want? Why did all of them have to ask her anyway? Maybe, she reasoned, it was just a case of being the new girl in school. Maybe they thought her something of a novelty or, even worse, some kind of challenge. Maybe if there were some newer female students, there would be fewer boys hitting on her. But that didn't seem very likely. She had been totally surprised when Wally had asked. After all, he had a girlfriend, didn't he? And a very jealous bitch, as she remembered from their previous meeting. Wally had told her they'd broken up again, just as Sarah had predicted they would. But how much of what he said was just a line. And she'd been really happy that Christy had been in class - and far away - at the time. Otherwise, Christy might have stuck a real dagger in her back. What could she say to Sarah? How could she tell her that this hunk she quite obviously had the hots for, had come on to her? Not once, but twice. She'd emphatically told him _no_ the first time, but then he had come back later and asked her again. Didn't Tony know what _no_ meant? And she couldn't help wondering if Keith had any idea of what his _friends_ were doing behind his back? The only bright spot in the day had been lunch. First, Sarah called her mom to ask about having dinner at the Sawyer's. After being told it was alright, Heather called her mother's office and left a message on her machine. Then they'd sat with a group of Sarah's friends to eat. After a while, the group's chit chat had centered on the school's new history teacher, Mr. Walker. With the exception of Heather, who couldn't have cared less, all the girls thought he was a hunk. Some of them giggled as they spoke of their fantasies of being older and becoming his paramour. Others giggled as they fantasized him becoming the handsome young man of their dreams. But, Heather didn't care about Mr. Walker's alleged hunk-hood. Being with these girls had let her escape for a while from all the unwanted attentions being paid her by all those crazy boys. By the time lunch ended, all of Sarah's friends considered Heather one of their crowd. Finally the school day ended, much to Heather's relief. While she and Sarah were leaving the schoolyard, they ran into Keith. As usual, he asked her out and, just as usual, she gave him her standard reply. From his calm demeanor, it was obvious to her, that Keith was completely unaware that either of his friends were coming on to her. And, after he'd spent all day collecting over a hundred signatures, she wasn't about to spoil his good mood. But after all the weirdness she'd been through today, Heather was startled by this odd feeling of concern for Keith.