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Spells R Us: In The Bag By and copyright 1998 Jay Seaver. With the exception of "The Old Man", "Spells R Us", and other creations of Bill Hart, these characters and situations are mine and I'm pretty possessive when it comes to these things. Ask before using them and be willing to take no for an answer. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The bell rang as Ron entered the store, startling him. It wasn't that the bell rang inasmuch as there was absolutely nothing connecting it to the door. Peculiar, to say the least. Of course, everything about the store seemed to be peculiar. Things were shelved without rhyme or reason - toys, food, books, and costumes shared space with other, less immediately identifiable items -with barely legible hand-printed price tags not always giving the values in U.S. dollars. A dog which could probably thrash most wild jungle cats gave Ron a nasty look as he entered the door and then promptly ignored him. The store looked entirely different than it did from the other side of the glass partition in the mall (for that matter, that side of the store appeared to be solid oak now), more like a below-street-level curio shop on a downtown side street. The place gave him the creeps, and he turned to leave. Doing so caused him to bump into an elderly man wearing some kind of gray robe who was apparently stocking shelves, spilling both the old man's armload of candles and Ron's previous purchases from the video store. Ron mumbled his apologies as they began picking their things up. "Accidents happen all the time, Ron; you are forgiven." Ron looked at the old man, surprised to hear his name. "Have we met before?" "Oh, I know everyone. That, and it's written on this reserve slip." The man held up a small piece of paper. No use unnerving Ronald William Henderson, college sophomore pursuing a degree in civil engineering, he thought. There'd be plenty of time for that later. "You seem preoccupied; perhaps I can help you find something?" "Not unless you've got something that can break my roommate and his girlfriend up without her being able to trace it back to me." Ron said it absently, and then immediately wondered why he had told this guy about it. He had a trustworthy face, but this wasn't something Ron usually talked about. The only thing Ron could come up with was that there was something funny in the air; those candles were pretty fragrant even unlit, and they weren't the only odd smell in the store. The old man smiled. "That doesn't sound like a very nice thing to do." Ron got defensive. "You've got to understand; Felix saw Andrea about two minutes before I did, but those two minutes were all he needed to make his move. They're not exactly a great match - Andrea and I have a lot more in common - very little chemistry, see? I figured it was, well, not exactly doomed, but not really vital, if you get my meaning. They just need this one little push, but there's been nothing to supply it." The shopkeeper smiled understandingly. He'd seen a lot of this in his time, Ron supposed, guys who were unlucky in love. (And who, the old man added to himself, reading Ron's mind, resorted to the supernatural rather than sticking their own neck out. But a customer was a customer.) "I think I may have just what you're looking for." He walked unerringly to a hat tree, pushed something out of "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" aside, grabbed the purse that was hanging behind it and placed it on the counter. "That's a purse." It was medium-sized, maybe on the small side, made of shiny green leather with a long green-and-black strap and a pair of pockets on the side. It was probably a pretty nice purse, but Ron didn't immediately see its connection to his dilemma. "It is a handbag, yes. Arrange for Felix to find this bag, and the contents will solve your problems." "How?" "It's magic." Ron was about to scoff, but then he remembered the bell, and the door, and the wall... There certainly could be something paranormal about this place, but "it's magic" hardly qualified as an explanation. "I'm not sure..." The old man finally began acting like a salesman. "I'll tell you what. The handbag costs fifty dollars; I'll let you have it for forty, but if it doesn't do what I said it will, bring it back tomorrow and I'll refund you the full fifty." College students have a notoriously difficult time resisting the siren song of free money, even if it's only ten dollars. As Ron pulled his last two twenties out of his wallet, he asked the old man one question. "You say this thing's 'magic' - are there any special instructions I should follow to keep it from blowing up in my face?" "In most respects, it is a normal handbag. I would recommend, though, that no man other than Felix, including yourself, attempt to open it. The results can be unpredictable." The old man finished writing up the receipt and tucked it into one of the purse's side pockets "Uh...right." Ron looked at his watch; he'd have to be at work in half an hour. "Thanks a lot. Um...could you put it in a bag or something? I'd feel kind of silly carrying this around." ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ron and Felix both worked part-time at ShowTime Cinema 6, a few blocks away from the campus. The pay pretty much sucked (though free movies made up for that some), but the hours accommodated a student's schedule and the work was usually pretty light. It was Thursday and they were both working as ushers that night. Two were needed since new movies opened on Friday, and they had to help the projectionist put the films together, put an order of candy and popcorn away, and change the marquees along with keeping the place reasonably clean. Ron was walking across the street from the bus stop when he saw Andrea dropping his roommate off. They made variations on the usual jokes; tonight Felix was hoping someone brought a laser pointer because he was just itching to throw someone out. They stowed their stuff and got to work. Midway through the first group of shows, Ron started the ball rolling. The purse felt like it would burn his hand as he tucked it into an unused seat while checking focus and temperature in theater 4. Ridiculous, superstitious nonsense, he knew, but there was something creepy about the whole thing. Meanwhile, Felix was busting his hump moving fifty-pound bags of popcorn across the lobby. He would really rather be studying with Andrea, albeit for different quizzes, but his car was in the shop and the prognosis did not look good (or, more to the point, cheap); he needed the money. She was pretty understanding, though. Nothing seemed to faze her one way or the other. As the shows got out (for a wonder, the home office had staggered end times so that they'd be able to actually clean the theaters), Felix looked at theater 4 and sighed. One guy had eaten a whole bag of unshelled peanuts, no-one knew how to use the trash can and some kids had evidently been throwing Goobers at each other. And it was usually dead Thursday night. Walking over to the supply closet to get the big bin on wheels, Felix removed the walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it. "Ron, could you help me pick four? It's a real hole." Ron froze at the other end of the building. Could Felix know something was up? No, that was ridiculous. It was an unusually crowded showing and, besides, hadn't he said "untraceable", and hadn't the old guy promised it would do what he said? "Sure. Be right down." Besides, it's not like the purse would do anything. They divided up the theater, Ron taking left and Felix taking right. They'd made it about two-thirds the way to the front when Felix found the purse. "Hey, looks like someone lost their purse." Ron turned around, not knowing for sure what was going to happen. "Check inside; maybe there's an address or something." "And I suppose you want it, right?" Felix grinned and unsnapped the catch. He reached inside and immediately noticed that something was wrong. "Hey, it's like cold inside... What the hell?" It was as if something had grabbed his hand. He jerked his hand back but even before it had cleared the bag there was a pull, and suddenly his right arm was in up to his elbow. He pulled with his shoulder and pushed with his left hand; but even pushing with all his strength, he only made about four inches worth of progress before the purse lurched all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He pushed it down a couple of inches when the opening stretched weirdly, expanding twenty-fold in size and throwing Felix off balance. As he fell, the "mouth" suddenly contracted, and the purse was stretched taut across his shoulders, making it look as though he had no right arm or head. He silently flailed with his left arm, grabbing at the purse and trying to pull it off his upper body, but with a sucking sound it absorbed him all the way to the waist, stopping there only because Felix's fingers somehow managed to curl around the opening from inside the bag. Felix strained to pull this demonically possessed piece of haberdashery off, while Ron just stood there with his mouth open, watching a handbag with his friend's legs sticking out run madly around the theater, crashing into seats and finally slipping on a spilled Pepsi. Felix landed on his already white knuckles, causing him to release his grip for a second, during which time his kicking legs were sucked into the purse like two strands of spaghetti. Ron figured that the satisfied burping sound was a product of his imagination - it couldn't possibly have emanated from the handbag which lay in the aisle, looking absolutely none the worse for the wear. SWEET JESUS!!!!!! "Felix?" Ron called, inching over to the bag. Oh, man, what had he done? He had wanted Felix out of the picture, sure, but he hadn't want to hurt his roommate. How was he going to explain this to Andrea? To their boss? To Felix's (considerable) family? Ron tapped the bag like a nervous cat, repeating his friend's name. The purse flipped over, utterly dormant. Ron nearly jumped ten feet in the air when the walkie on his hip went off. "Ron, are you done in four?" He nervously grabbed at his radio. "Uh, yeah, just about." "Finish up quick; you can leave it a little rough since you're the only one on tonight." "Uh, okay, right, roger that." Ron quickly gathered up his trash bags and stuffed them into the big bin. Very carefully, he picked the green purse up by its carrying strap, holding as far away from his body as possible while wheeling the bin out of the theater. That thing was dangerous! The girl working the concession stand yelled across the lobby at him, "Ron, you afraid you're gonna get cooties or something from that thing?" Ron shot her a nervous grin. "Yeah, Cindy, I'm afraid of cooties. Right. No, the bag's empty but it smells like someone peed in it. I'm just gonna stick it in the lost and found." Passing the lost and found, Ron reconsidered. This purse was more than merely dangerous, it was bloody homicidal; who knows how many people it would eat if he just left it lying around? No, that wouldn't do. He continued outside with the trash, and threw the handbag in the dumpster as well, washing his hands of the enchanted object. It would get crushed up, burned, buried in a landfill or some combination of the three, never to menace anybody again. The rest of the evening passed suspiciously quietly. Ron directed people to the bathrooms, swept the floors, and changed the marquee; typical Thursday night duties. Nobody questioned Felix's absence, or even seemed to think there was anybody but Ron working the floor at all (at least, they never mentioned it; Ron certainly didn't ask). When he went to swipe his timecard at twelve-thirty, Ron didn't see "Felix Madison" on the schedule at all. The bag hadn't just eaten Felix - it had erased him. Ron shivered as he went to change out of his uniform, but froze when he heard a knock on the door. It was Andrea. Nervously, Ron opened the door. "Uh, Andrea, hi..." Standing on tiptoe, she reached her hands around his neck, bending him over slightly and pushing her lips up to his. "Hi yourself. You look surprised; am I early? You did say twelve-thirty, right?" Still reeling from the kiss (and only mildly disappointed that he didn't get a chance to savor his first kiss with Andrea), Ron stammered his response. "Uh, no... It's just been a weird night. A weird night." "Well, okay then. You go get changed - a uniform just doesn't turn me on unless it includes a gun - and lock up, and I'll be waiting in the car." Andrea gave Ron a quick peck on the lips, released his neck, spun around and slinked back to her car. Settling into the driver's seat, she raised her eyebrows and gave her boyfriend (at least, all the evidence suggested Ron was her boyfriend) a "well, what are you waiting for?" smile. Well, what was he waiting for? As he changed back into street clothes, Ron realized that, even if he could be held responsible for erasing Felix (and he didn't think he was, really; he had thought that opening the purse would cause Felix to find its owner to be irresistible or something like that, if it did anything at all. Ron had never meant to hurt anyone), nobody would ever think to accuse him because nobody else knew Felix had ever existed. Andrea certainly seemed happy enough. Satisfied that nobody was hurt (except Felix, and you couldn't hurt someone who never existed, right?), Ron got in the car with Andrea and rode back to her room in their dorm, where he was very satisfied indeed. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The garbage collectors ground through the city at four a.m., irritating both the sleeping and the awake. The theater was one of their last stops, and wouldn't you know it, the dumpster was overloaded again. A few small items spilled to the ground as the men operating the truck emptied the dumpster's contents into the back of the big machine. The trashmen didn't pick them up; it was the theater's junk and if the theater didn't load the dumpster right, that wasn't their problem. After they drove to their next stop, a hand reached out of one of the items, a green leather purse, and sort of felt around the surrounding ground. Evidently satisfied that the ground was flat and relatively ground-like, the hand's mate joined it a minute later. A pair of long, slender arms which the purse couldn't possibly have contained in its meager volume stretched out behind them, finally terminating in shoulders supporting a head covered with rust-colored hair. Taking a deep breath, Felix realized that he had emerged face-down. But he was out! Partway out, anyway. Ever practical, Felix "stood" on his hands, lowered himself to the ground - that is to say, maneuvered so that the handbag was sitting base-down on the ground with his head and shoulders pointing straight in the air - then grabbed the side of the bag with his hands and pushed himself up. It was slow going at first, but it got easier once the top of the bag got below his breasts- - Felix's eyes opened wide from their previous closed position, and he almost gave himself whiplash as his face moved from its strained, skyward orientation to gaping at what pushing the bag down to his waist had revealed. Those were not his arms, not his hands, not his fingers, and that was certainly not his green dress being held taut by and covering too little of what were most positively not his boobs. "What the hell..." Felix had only half the sentence when he realized that it wasn't his voice, either, quickly clapping his hands over his mouth. Without Felix to hold it down, the bag quickly began sucking him back in, but this time it was stopped when it ran into the bottoms of Felix's new bosoms like a karate chop. Felix grabbed the purse's sides again almost before the pain of the impact reached his brain. "Okay, okay," he groaned, the wind partially knocked out of him. "First things first. I got it." He pushed again. The bag didn't want to budge past his waist, but Felix would be damned if he let it suck him back in. The dress' straps dug into his shoulders until finally the one on his left snapped. "Great," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Not only has this thing turned me into a woman, now it's trying to tell me that my hips are too big." He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, gave the bag one last shove, and he was out. In fact, the bag seemed to forcibly expel him once pushed past the widest part of his hips, although he probably hit the wall under his own power. Felix thought that the popping sound had to be a product of his imagination, but it certainly wouldn't have been any more ridiculous that the rest of the experience. Dazed, Felix looked over the tableau. The handbag sat innocently in front of him, some trash swirled in the early morning wind, a clock struck five in the distance. He was awash in upper body pain: As close as he could tell, he'd hit the wall with the back of his head, his shoulders, his rump and his left hand; his arms and trapezious muscles felt like he'd been lifting weights for hours on end; his breasts felt like...well, he had no idea what his breasts felt like, but it wasn't good. His breasts. He glanced down; he certainly seemed to have plenty of them, but that was compared to having none at all. This dress certainly seemed designed to show them off, too; not only did his cleavage seem impressive, but he could feel the material of the dress holding them in position. He looked further. He still seemed to be long-limbed, but he doubted he would still be considered gangly. He had a good view of his new limbs; the dress was sleeveless and cut above the knee, which in his current sitting position exposed a whole lot of leg. His arms were slender, but in a trim, fit way. The hands they led to were a bit smaller but they seemed to have slightly longer digits, proportionally. The nails extended just beyond Felix's fingertips and were painted green, matching the dress and purse, but the polish was coming off. The watch on his wrist seemed to have stopped at four o'clock; maybe it had broken when he hit the wall. It was a different design than he was used to, the face rectangular rather than circular and small enough that it must be hell on someone with less-than-perfect vision. Well, it was Swiss junk now, about as useful for telling time as his Medic Alert bracelet. Felix looked at his legs. They were, he decided, pretty nice. The hose that they were encased in was shredded - probably by the zipper on the purse - but they were long, and like his arms had just enough muscle to be sexy as hell. They terminated in feet which all of Felix's experience told him weren't big enough to stand on, but they sure did look cute. One had a shoe on and one didn't, and a which glance around the alley didn't reveal the missing piece of footwear. The shoe he could see was green (what a surprise!), covered his foot pretty well, and seemed to have an inch-thick piece of black rubber glued to the heel. The other foot was just a foot, with the toenails mercifully unpainted. Felix sat there for an hour or so, dazed and somewhat in shock. What had happened, what he had become, was clearly impossible, but the evidence sat before his eyes. As he sat, he knew he was just delaying the inevitable - he needed answers, and the most logical place to start looking was inside that purse. Not daring to reach inside it again, Felix got hold of the strap and pulled it toward him. It was currently behaving like a normal purse, but that didn't count for much. Looking away, he gingerly turned it upside down and then shook it with a single quick jerk. He was awarded with a few objects hitting the ground, and he cautiously turned his head back to look at the items he had spilled between his shapely new legs. A keychain, a small mirror, a laminated card, and a folded piece of paper. The paper was a vehicle registration for a 1998 Volkswagen Beetle, color green, license plate LIMEADE (cute), owner Felicia Ryder. The laminated card was a Massachusetts driver's license, made out to one Felicia A. Ryder of Nantucket, with a terrible - but disconcertingly familiar - photograph of an auburn-haired girl. Trembling, Felix picked up the mirror. No doubt about it; the face he saw in the mirror was the face in the picture. It was still his, sort of - the nose was filed down to a more manageable size, his chin had pulled back and the eyebrows were operating at half power, but that freckled, green-eyed visage could belong to one of his sisters. He looked a little older than the photograph, but it had probably been taken when this Felicia was about sixteen. The keychain was relatively straightforward - two Volkswagen keys, two house keys, what looked like a mailbox key, and a white piece of plastic with blue print: "Sunnyside Condominium Association, 15 Westbrook Street", an address just on the other side of the school from his dorm. Gathering these things in his right hand and absently dragging the purse behind him, Felix took his first steps in the alien body. They weren't successful; he felt like his body was pinched in two, destroying his balance. He tripped over his own feet, and finally took off his remaining shoe. His legs now at least the same length, he stumbled out of the alley and looked at the street. Surely enough, there was a green VW parked three blocks away. Well, it seemed fairly obvious what was expected, and without any better ideas, "Felicia Ryder" got into "her" car and drove "home". ---------------------------------------------------------------- It was seven o'clock when Felix parked what was evidently his car behind the gates of the condominiums where he apparently lived now. He guessed he was still a student, based on the books and papers lying on the back seat, but he no longer seemed to be living in a dorm. There was no way he could afford the rent here; he'd had to work while living on campus to keep up with expenses. Checking the mailboxes and doorbells by the front door, he found "Ryder/Hardy" listed for Unit 2- L. Felix ran an appreciative eye over the digs when he opened the apartment's door. High ceilings, wall-to-wall carpeting, floor-to- ceiling windows and a pretty nice stereo. He let the door close behind him and stepped past the living room, into a short hallway. He wasn't interested in the bathroom. The second door was shut, and sported a little rainbow-shaped sign with the name "Liz" printed on it. The door at the end had a similar sign (marked "Felicia"), and Felix nervously opened the door, dreading what he'd find in there. But it was just a room, much like his own. There was a bed, a desk, and a bureau. Some movie posters hung on the walls and a computer sat on the desk, along with various textbooks, notebooks, pens, et cetera. But most interesting to Felix was the bed; just seeing it made him realize how tired he was. He was about to drop right onto it when he heard someone enter the room behind him and start talking. "Geez, Felicia, that must have been one heck of a blind date if you're only getting in no--" Felix turned around to look at the girl who was talking to him. She must have just been getting out of bed; she only seemed to be wearing an oversized T-shirt and some gray cotton shorts. Dark hair surrounded a friendly face, which took on a look of concern when she saw the state the other girl was in. "Oh my god, you're bleeding." Felix looked around; there were a few fresh red spots on the carpet, along the path he'd walked from the door. Before he could figure out where they came from, the other girl had crossed the room and was looking her over. "Turn around." Mindlessly, Felix obeyed, presenting his back to the girl, who examined his legs. "Whew, it's just a scrape. But what did this guy do to you..." Up close, she could see the bruises forming on Felicia's shoulders. "Ohmigod, did he hit you? Dammit, I warned you about this; it's not that you can't trust foreign guys as a rule, but there's a whole lot of them know that nothing long-term's gonna come out of a date and are just looking to nail as many Americans as they can while they've got the opportunity. Counting coup or some shit like that. And with a name like Hrothgar... I mean, really, Fee, HROTHGAR?" While the girl was talking, Felix managed to place her: Elizabeth Hardy. She'd been in a few of his classes last year, fairly pretty, a nice girl (Felix had only met her a few times, but he had liked her), and smart (she was pre-med, if Felix's memory could be trusted), but she hadn't made it to her sophomore year because her mom had gotten cancer and Liz had had to go home and work full-time. No way she could afford to live in a place like this, even if she had stayed. What was going on here? Concerned about the lack of a response, Liz turned her roommate around, grabbed her head and made her look into her eyes. "Can you hear what I'm saying?" Liz noticed a tender spot on the back of Felicia's head as she did so. Not good. "Ye...Yeah, I can hear you." I've got no idea who you think you're saying it to, Felix thought, but I can hear it. "Good. I'm still worried about that bump on your head, though, so let's get you changed and into the infirmary. Okay?" Felicia nodded, but didn't move. Liz sat on the bed behind her and started to unzip Felicia's dress. Liz caught a whiff of something on Felicia's breath. "Have you been drinking? You've got to be more careful about...THAT SON OF A BITCH!!" As far as Liz was concerned, this blind date was looking like more and more of a disaster - Felicia had some nasty purple marks on the bottom of her breasts; what was wrong with this guy? Liz pulled the dress and the shredded hose down to Felicia's feet. "Now get dressed so you can see the doctor, okay?" Felix nodded, and was grabbing a sweatshirt and some shorts from the top of the hamper when he saw Elizabeth pick up the purse. "No!" he yelled. He turned around to try to stop her, but he was dizzy and his center of gravity was off. Felix ended up just falling onto the bed. "Relax!" Liz said, pulling an object out of the purse. "It's just your blood tester." Liz had the device take a sample from Felicia and hugged the bigger girl close. "You're going to be okay. Now let's get dressed and go to the infirmary." ---------------------------------------------------------------- Felix was still sitting on the examining table, hugging his legs as he listened to Elizabeth and the nurse-practitioner talk about him in the next room. Evidently he was still diabetic; that much at least hadn't changed. He'd never forgotten his insulin before, but what had happened to him certainly qualified as good reason for forgetting. Elizabeth had probably saved whatever sort of life he had now. "Yes, this happened once before; last year. We were at a frat party, and she'd had a couple of sips..." The funny thing was, that had happened, sort of. He and Ron had been rushing Lambda Pi, and he'd gone into diabetic arrest at one of their events. Felix had had to be rushed to the hospital, and decided to stay away from the fraternities after that. According to Elizabeth's account, though, Felix - Felicia - had really started to drag after only one drink at the exact same party, and when some of the brothers had started to bring her back to one of the rooms to sleep it off, Liz had spotted Felicia's Medic Alert bracelet and remembered that insulin shock and intoxication often displayed similar symptoms. Either way, it had been close, and alcohol-related activity around the school had been a bit more subdued for the rest of the year. Felix jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Liz backed up a step, holding up her hands. "Hey, it's only me. The nurse says you probably don't have a concussion, although to bring you back here if you start to get headaches or blurred vision, that sort of thing. And you're to keep an especially careful watch on your insulin for the next few days." "Good. Okay. Thanks." Felix wasn't sure what to say first. "Hey, it's what I'm here for." Elizabeth half-laughed, and then turned serious. "She seems to think you were more scared than anything else; Hrothgar roughed you up pretty good, and you had a pretty unique - or, as she put it, sheltered - life up till you started school here. But you'll be okay; you'll just have to remember to be more careful from now on." "Yeah, I guess this is all new to me." Felix said it without a hint of irony. "Oh, sure, but you're doing OK." Elizabeth looked at her watch. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved. Let's grab some breakfast and see if you feel like you're up for classes." ---------------------------------------------------------------- The joke's the same no matter what college cafeteria you go to: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, because it's the only one that's consistently edible. Felix collected three pancakes, some bacon, orange juice and chocolate milk, then grabbed a table in the corner with Liz, who just had some cornflakes and peach slices. "I see your adventure hasn't hurt your appetite." "Hey, whatever happens, ya gotta eat." Felix grinned embarrassedly at this girl his own age who was fussing over him like a mother hen. "Liz, thanks for everything. I owe you big time." "With all you've done for me? I owe you guys. Just don't do it again, okay?" Well, that was cryptic. "Fine by me. But thanks anyway." He stabbed his fork through a few squares of pancake and shoved them in his mouth. Elizabeth giggled. "My mom swears that living with you is going to cost me all my table manners." "Hey, I'm hungwy," he said, deliberately talking with his mouth full. Liz covered her mouth to hold her food in while she choked back laughter. "You're bouncing back pretty well." Felix paused. "Maybe I am." He wasn't just referring to a non- existent attack by a horny Norwegian, either. Aside from his body, the world seemed reasonably familiar. Campus seemed to be laid out the same, the same people were eating breakfast in the cafeteria, the alternative rock station piped into the room still sucked and the TV newscasters looked to be talking about the same issues. Enough was still the same that Felix felt that he might have a reasonable starting point to figure out what was going on. Elizabeth was another story, though. She wasn't supposed to be here - she hadn't even finished their freshman year. She had been on Felix like glue almost as soon as he'd started to investigate what had happened, and she'd reached into that handbag without ill effect. Felix had plenty of reason to be suspicious of Elizabeth, he decided, but she may have saved his life. "Yeah," he said, trying to gauge Elizabeth's reaction, "I guess I'm doing okay." "Good." Liz went back to her cereal. A couple of guys grabbed seats next to Felix and Liz. "Well, look what we've got here. I thought you two were too good for us campus- dwellers." Felix recognized Bill Johnson and Bert Compton. He'd been on the same floor as Bill and Bert freshman year, but didn't know them that well. Evidently they thought differently, or maybe they were friends of Liz's. "You know how it is, we were banging away first thing in the morning and got hungry. It won't happen again." If Bill and Bert didn't believe Elizabeth's explanation - they might have noted the lack of books or papers anywhere near Elizabeth and Felicia, for example - they gave no sign of it. "I believe it. You two look like hell." Bert probably had a point - Felix had just crawled in off the street an hour and a half ago and Elizabeth had only minimally distanced herself from the no-shower no- coffee hair-all-over-the-place first-thing-in-the-morning look. "And he wonders why he's not getting any." "It's the damned ratio, Bill. Three men for every woman, no car, not old enough to buy booze, and even one so manly as myself is gonna strike out." Felix smiled at that. That had been part of the reason he'd made his move on Andrea so quickly, and why he hadn't broken it off months ago: He knew he might not get another chance until after he graduated. Well, his moldering relationship with Andrea wouldn't be a problem now, since she probably didn't remember that he'd ever existed. Felix hoped she was happy, at least. As if on cue, Ron and Andrea chose that moment to enter the cafeteria, giggling and generally looking as if they hadn't gotten much sleep. Apparently they didn't remember Felix. "Oh, for crying out loud," muttered Bill. "Why don't you save it for the weekends like the rest of us?" The last sentence was just loud enough to be heard by the couple. Ron turned beet-red, and shuffled off to the buffet. "'The rest of us'?" questioned Liz, looking skeptical. "Don't go there." They chatted some more, mostly about classwork. Felix didn't say much, trying to observe as much as he could. Maybe there'd be a clue as to what was going on somewhere. It wasn't to be, though; all the conversation seemed to be ruthlessly ordinary. Finally, they got up to leave. Felix felt very conscious of his breasts. The sweatshirt that they were covered by seemed to be a size too small, they exerted a rhythmic tug on his chest as he walked, and then there was the polite attention given their bouncing by Bill and Bert (polite in that they found something else to look at almost as fast as he caught them staring). After leaving the cafeteria, they went their separate ways, Bill and Bert returning to their dorm while Felix and Elizabeth went out on the quad. "So, did the meal do you good?" "Yeah, but I guess I gave Bill and Bert a pretty good show." "Hey, we were pressed for time when we got dressed this morning. Let's get back to the apartment and start the day over again." "Deal." ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ron ate breakfast in a daze. In the past twenty-four hours, he'd bought a magic talisman, used it to remove his roommate from existence, nailed said roommate's girlfriend (twice), and had been the target of a crack from Bill Johnson about how much sex he was getting compared to the rest of the guys. Crazy. He wished Felix were around to see it. But what's done is done. Ron was able to recover enough to give all his attention to Andrea and her idea that he spend Thanksgiving at her place. ---------------------------------------------------------------- "You're sure you're going to be all right?" "I'm a big b-girl, Liz. They let me vote and everything. And you're not my mother." That was close. Interestingly, though, Elizabeth hadn't seemed to notice Felix's stutter when naming his sex, although "you're not my mother" seemed to raise an eyebrow. Did this mean she knew what was going on, or that she didn't? "Well, okay. I'll see you later." With that, Elizabeth dropped the last book into her backpack and went out the door. Finally! A chance to do some snooping around. Felix started in the living room. Twenty-seven inch television, hooked up to a 4-head VCR and a Panasonic DVD player, both connected to a modest Technics stereo system. None of the tapes or discs had giveaway titles like "Witchcraft Made Simple" or "How To Distort Reality", but maybe that was hoping for too much. Furniture was college student- chic, a futon and two of the biggest beanbags Felix had ever seen (bigger by half than most ordinary beanbag seats), all in bright colors that contrasted with the abstract pastel print that hung above the futon. Felix was pleased to see that he evidently still kept fish, but gasped when he saw that it was a large, salt-water tank. How much money was he swimming in? There were no messages on the answering machine. The outgoing message was recorded in what he had trouble accepting as his own voice, but sounded like him: It was worded exactly the same as the message on his and Ron's machine (except, obviously, for the fact that it was now "Elizabeth and Felicia" rather than "Ron and Felix" who weren't in), and spoken in the same manner: A speech coach would have noticed the same pauses, lisions, elisions, etc. Elizabeth's room was a little smaller than his - Felicia's - whoever's, and reasonably spartan: Just a bed, a dresser, a desk (no computer), and some books. Felix felt a little guilty about rooting through Elizabeth's drawers and closet (especially when he hit the birth control pills), and found nothing to justify his search. If Liz was anything more than she appeared to be, anything other than a hard- working student aspiring to be a doctor, she concealed it well. The bathroom hid nothing out of the ordinary, not counting the female toiletries Felix found there. "Felicia's" room was no different. It was better appointed than Elizabeth's, but it seemed to basically be the sort of room Felix would have if he had more money. Even the schoolbooks corresponded to the classes he was enrolled in or had already taken. He liked the movies whose posters adorned the walls. Even the clothes in the dresser seemed relatively sensible - once he got past the underwear drawer, there was nothing too terribly girly in there. Sure, some of the shirts were tapered in the belly area, and one or two were probably didn't reach down that far, but Felix didn't think he'd be embarrassed by most of the shirts, sweaters, shorts, and other items in the bureau if he had to stay like this for a while, though he had no interest in the skirts in one of the bottom drawers. There were a few bits of cosmetics and some simple jewelry lying on top of the dresser, along with a magnifying mirror. Felix noticed that there was still a piece of jewelry in each his ears; he quickly removed the studs and dropped them on top of the dresser. Now the closet had some pretty girly stuff. Not a whole lot; a little black party dress, a conservative light blue number, a navy blue pantsuit, a formal gown that started out red at the top to match his hair and smoothly darkened to black at the ankles, and an empty hanger where the ruined green dress would probably go. There was also a pair of overalls, a windbreaker, an all-weather coat and a ski jacket hanging in the closet. There were skis in the back of the closet (downhill and cross-country!), along with their attendant poles and boots. Felix didn't see the mind-boggling collection of shoes many girls had in their closets; aside from the Nikes he was wearing, there was a pair of hiking boots, a pair of black flats and a navy pair who's inch-and-a-half heels were at least solidly built. No precarious stilettos here, thank god. Various other items either sat in the closet, or under the bed, or elsewhere in the room: A tennis racket, a walkman, an umbrella, a globe, other things; none strange or otherworldly. Having completed a circuit of the room, Felix arrived back at the door and the full-length mirror that hung on it. Only one thing left to check. Moving quickly, before he lost the nerve, Felix lifted his sweatshirt over his head, stepped on the backs of his sneakers to pull them off without untying, removed his socks, dropped his shorts and pushed his panties to the floor. Only then did he remember that there was a window behind him. Curtains drawn. Whew. Felix turned back to the mirror. The first thought that came into Felix's mind was that the girl in the mirror would be incredible if she just did something about her hair. Felix's hair had always been a dull, light red that refused to behave, and that hadn't changed; there was just more of it. Rather than being obedient hair and following the law of gravity, it just grew out and formed a bushy layer around his head. The result looked goofy, especially with his freckles. Well, it didn't look like anyone would be saying he looked like Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen any more, because the body was incredible from the neck down. He didn't seem to have lost much if any of his five feet, nine inches in height in the change - an inch or so at most. Strong, unbowed shoulders led to arms which struck a fine balance between strength and beauty, neither overtly muscular nor stick-like, and not jiggling when they moved. Felix's breasts would have seemed quite large on a smaller body, and were slightly bigger than average even on his tall frame. They were firm, though, and not so large that pressing them together with his arms gave him cleavage up to the neck. The bruises had started to turn good and purple, especially in comparison to his otherwise very fair skin, though Felix didn't exactly feel he needed an excuse to avoid bikinis. His torso narrowed below the ribcage, but not as drastically as, say, Andrea's did (said ribs weren't as obvious as Andrea's, either). Hips flared as Felix's gaze moved toward the ground, forming into the kind of legs that require both good genetic luck and daily exercise. Felix tried to be clinical examining what was between those legs - the equipment was different that he was used to, but he seemed to have a full complement of everything he remembered from his high school health class and his own meager experience, it all seemed to be in the right place, and it all responded to his touch. Several contradictory sensations racked Felix's body as he poked around his new sex - arousal, embarrassment, curiosity, exhilaration, confusion. It felt good and almost natural - and completely impossible. Noticing how damp the area (and his hand - gross!) was, he straightened out, watching his breasts jiggle, and turned around, looking at his back in the mirror. His shoulders were bruised, but he had a fine pair of shoulder blades. His lower back looked and felt like there was a chunk taken out of it, but those were apparently normal female contours that pushed out to a tight butt. His right leg had a pretty ugly- looking scrape right below his right cheek - it was still tender - but other than that his legs looked just as nice from the back as they did from the front.. Felix, naked, walked slowly across the room and sat down on the bed. He'd always been a levelheaded guy, not prone to panic, so even though he realized he should be angry, he wasn't - without someone to be angry at, his ire was pretty restrained. He didn't have enough information to really get mad. Feeling confused, mistreated, and alone were a different story, and it wasn't long before Felix was curled up in a ball, crying. In the back of his mind, he didn't think that those feelings would have driven him to tears twenty-four hours ago, but given the relative scope of the problem combined with his new anatomy (and, presumably, hormones), it didn't seem unreasonable, and actually felt pretty good. After ten minutes, though, he felt pretty cried out, and moved to a sitting position. As he did so, his foot kicked the green handbag over. Felix cringed, wondering what mayhem that would unleash. When he opened his eyes, all that had been unleashed was the corner of something made of fabric. Cautiously, he moved his hand toward it and pinched it with his thumb and forefinger, then quickly jerked back... A hanky. More precisely, a monogrammed ("F.R.") silk handkerchief. Feeling embarrassed, he used it to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. Despite its smaller size, his nose certainly seemed to produce the same amount of snot. As he was setting the handkerchief on the corner of the bureau, a thought occurred to him. No question, the bag had attacked him the first time he saw it. Since then, though, it had been as helpful as an inanimate object could be, presuming that it wasn't somehow alive. When he was sitting dazed and confused in the alleyway, it had told him how to get "home"; the needle Elizabeth had pulled out of it had saved his life; and just as he was finishing a crying jag, it had given him a hanky. To a certain extent, that worried Felix even more - it's one thing to deal with a malevolent force, but it's even more disconcerting to not know what the other guy wants, especially when the other guy is a few scraps of leather. It's very difficult to read the expression on that particular other guy's face. The condo's air conditioning kicked in, and Felix decided there was no need to face his problem naked. Already at the bureau, he opened the underwear drawer and pulled out a bra and panties. Different colors. Try again. Swapping the white panties for a blue pair, he pulled them up his legs. They hugged his body much closer than his male underpants, but weren't uncomfortable. Hopefully they wouldn't ride halfway up his butt. The bra was a bit trickier. Felix stuck his arms through the appropriate loops, but once they were up to his shoulders, he couldn't pull the material over his breasts. He moved the straps halfway between his shoulders and elbows and positioned the cups underneath his breasts, but when he brought his arms across his body to position the straps properly, his breasts popped out of the cups. He tried again, this time raising his arms in the air - success! - that is, until he tried to fasten the clasp in back. He finally managed it, but the wiggling and contortions necessary left him hanging loose out front again. On the fourth try he finally hit upon the idea of using a mirror. Jackpot! Felix took a few steps around the room, satisfied that his bouncing was no longer out of control. It was late October, but unseasonably warm (there always seemed to be a week at the end of October when the temperature reached the high seventies or low eighties, but folks still said it was "unseasonably" warm), so Felix slipped into a pair of khaki shorts and a Barenaked Ladies T-shirt (so named even though all five members of the band were guys, haw haw haw isn't that funny?). He picked up the purse and addressed it, feeling like an idiot. "Okay, here's the deal. I don't trust you in any way, shape, or form; you've been making nice today, but I've got no way of knowing that you're not just trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Fact of the matter is, though, I need answers and can't think of any better source. So spill." He turned the purse upside down and started shaking it again. The contents rustled around, but nothing fell out. Felix turned it right-side up, saw that it was, in fact, unzipped and unlatched, and turned it upside down again. He gave it the shaking of its life, but still it refused to disgorge its contents. "Oh, so this is how it's going to be. I have to trust you." Felix planned on doing nothing of the sort; he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the desk, hooking one of its legs with one of his. He reached into the bag, and pulled out... ...a brush. Okay, his hair was a mess. But he had other concerns aside from his grooming at the moment. ...a roll of breath mints. Felix glared at the bag, as if to warn it that he didn't appreciate sarcasm, reading his mind, or, especially, any combination of the two. ...an antiperspirant. Okay, okay, he got the point - he'd freshen up in a minute. ...a book. A quick thrill raced through Felix's body, until he realized that it was just a day-timer, with his schedule of classes taped to the front. The schedule was exactly the same as his had been the day before, except that it listed "Felicia Ryder" rather than "Felix Madison" for a name. Checking the clock, Felix realized that he had a quiz in his Statistics class in half an hour. While his grades had been good enough that he probably could afford to miss it, he didn't know whether or not that had changed last night. Better go anyway. Felix quickly brushed his hair, or tried to. He'd never had quite so much before, and after ten minutes was content with it not being in his eyes and not sticking out like horns anywhere. He was distressed to feel his nipples stiffen as he applied the antiperspirant - Felix didn't recall underarms being one of a woman's erogenous zones. Maybe he was just finding every sensation exciting as he felt all them for the "first" time in this new body. He certainly hoped that didn't last. After slipping some cotton socks and the Nikes back on, Felix then dumped his books and notebooks into the L.L. Bean backpack sitting next to the desk. All his class materials were eerily familiar, down to the handwriting. In fact, he would have sworn that they were his if not for the name attached, and even that looked like he had written it. Creepy. Felix still didn't trust the handbag out of his sight, but couldn't remember whether or not the girls around campus carried both a backpack and a purse at the same time. Deciding to play it safe, he crammed the purse into the top of the pack and zipped both up. Felix threw the backpack on his shoulder like he'd done a thousand other times, but this time its weight was more than his upper body was built for, and the momentum carried the pack back to the floor. Felix landed on his rump with a thud. Grumbling that the extra cushioning there didn't seem to be helping much, he slowly raised himself back up, using the corner of the desk for support. Felix took a few practice steps - his center of gravity had seemed to be off before putting on the backpack, and now his balance was even further out of whack - and pronounced himself ready to face the world. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ron was confused. After rushing to get to his Design class after breakfast, he couldn't get back into the dorm. He hadn't noticed last night - hell, he hadn't noticed much of anything apart from Andrea last night - but someone had apparently switched his keys. The rest of his keychain seemed to be in order - student ID, timecard for the theater, and keys to his parents' house back in Illinois, his bike lock, and a locker in the Civil Engineering building - but the keys to the dorm and his room within had been replaced with two keys he'd never seen before in his life. He'd been doing a pretty good job of ignoring the effects of what had happened last night - nobody else seemed to think anything had changed, and his first two classes were exactly the same - but Ron knew it was unlikely that some prankster had just stuck two new keys on his chain. If Felix didn't exist, then Felix obviously couldn't be his roommate any more, and thus his living arrangements must have changed. Ron just didn't know what they'd changed to. Ron felt a hand slap him on the back hard enough for him to stumble a couple of steps. "Hey, Ron, didn't see you in the house last night - gettin' some mid-week action?" Ron raised his eyebrows in realization. Turning around, he confirmed that the hand and voice belonged to Randy ("by name and by nature, baby, by name and by nature") Lauer, captain of the school's basketball team. Ron only remembered meeting Randy a couple times before, both when he and Felix had been pledging Lambda Pi. It made a bizarre sort of sense, actually - no Felix, no incident at the party, no reason to stop rushing the fraternity. Evidently Ron had made it in. Which was something he hadn't been expecting at the time. "Hey, if it's there for the taking..." By the time they arrived at the house, Ron felt like these guys were his best friends. Which, evidently, they were. ---------------------------------------------------------------- "...so I guess that's why Snapple can be called all-natural even though it's only about five percent juice--hey, I thought you said Felicia wasn't going to be in class today." Bill interrupted his rant on how the contents of the bottle in his hand tasted like water when Felicia walked into the door of the classroom. "I didn't think she was, but you know how anal Fee is about her work." Liz was pretty surprised to see her roommate entering the room, although Felicia had a sort of confused look in her eyes. She must be running completely on autopilot. "Would it kill her to miss just one quiz? She's ruining the scale for the rest of us." Bill stopped his mumbling when he, too, noticed the look on Felicia's face. "Hey, what's wrong with her? I've seen Felicia's 'no sleep in the last twenty-four hours' look, and that's not it." "No, it's not. I'll tell you later." Liz raised her voice slightly. "Hey, Fee, over here." Felicia looked up, startled, shook her head and walked over, taking her customary seat between Bill and Liz. "Um...Sorry about that. I must be completely spacing today, huh?" "You're entitled to be a bit out of it after what you've been through. I was expecting you to just crash as soon as I was out the door." "Nah, it's best not to." Felicia and Liz both looked at Bill as he chimed in. "I mean, it's like jet lag; when you stay up clear through the night and then don't stay up through the day too, it throws off your sleep cycle, your mealtimes, all your biorhythms. Probably screws up a woman's cycle too, but I can't personally vouch for that one." Felicia and Liz looked skeptical. "What?" Felicia: "Biorhythms? I thought they went out of style in the eighties?" Elizabeth: "What would a CS major know about a regular sleep cycle?" "Fine, don't believe me. I'm just trying to help." Bill spread his arms and lowered his head in a mock-hurt expression. Before he had a chance to expand on the point, Professor Trent entered the room, set up shop at the front and launched almost immediately into the day's lecture. The lecture lasted for about an hour, with the last half hour reserved for the quiz. Felix was a bit worried when he needed nearly the full half hour to finish it, when he was usually among the first done. Granted, he hadn't had a chance to study the night before, and he was exhausted, but could becoming a girl have diminished his intellect? He didn't seem to have had any trouble following along in class, but it was one more thing to worry about. He also found the idea vaguely distasteful, since he'd never believed women were somehow inferior; Felix had always been smart, so the girls he'd had classes with had tended to be smart, too, and so he'd always regarded his female friends as equals. Felix hoped that he was just tired; the other alternative led to madness (how can you tell if your mental capacity has been diminished? Any test for intelligence is not only subjective, but also can be thrown by any number of things affecting the subject at the time of the test). He handed in his test and found Liz and Bill waiting for him at the door, and headed off to lunch. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The trio dropped their bags in the common area around where Bert was already sitting, barely stopping on their way to the lunch counter. "Nice to see you, Bert! Thanks for saving us a seat, Bert! I'll gladly sleep with you for it, Bert!" The rest of the group turned around and responded, in unison, "Thaaaaaaank you, Bert!" "Yes, thank you, Bert, but I'm not gonna sleep with you, and I'd wish you'd stop asking." Bill raised his eyebrows a couple of times and turned back toward the counter. Elizabeth and Felix followed until Felix realized he didn't have any money in his pockets. "Hang on, let me grab my wal-" A sigh escaped Felix as he realized where his money likely was. "-purse." "No problem, I'll save you a spot in line." Felix thanked Elizabeth, seeing that just about everyone else was trying to grab lunch during the same five minutes. He unzipped his backpack and removed the handbag. Evidently a look of dread passed across his face, because Bert commented on it. "You're right to be afraid. The fish sandwich is terrible." Felix sighed. "It's not the food I'm worried about, it's this thing." "You're right, it doesn't go with your clothes at all." "Bite me." Now Felix remembered why he'd never hung out with Bill and Bert much; Bert's sarcasm got old practically before it left his mouth. "May I? Please?" AND he was a complete horn-dog, to the point where it was embarrassing to be seen with him. "Aaaah, no." Felix shoved the purse under his arm and went to join Elizabeth in line, willing to bet that Bert was watching his butt every step of the way. And Bert probably wasn't the only one; as is the case with most science and engineering schools, the student population at Anderson Polytechnic Institute was three-quarters male. Even if the bag had spat Felix out as an unattractive girl, he'd still be drawing attention because beggars can't be choosers. As it stood now, Felix was sort of pretty (if you like freckles), had pretty good curves, seemed to live well, and had no discernable boyfriend. He wondered when the vultures would start descending. "Ahem." Felix was jolted out of his reverie by the lady at the counter. He'd grabbed his usual two slices of pizza and orange soda without even thinking about it. He reached into his pocket before remembering the purse, and held his breath as he poked his hand in to pull out... ...exact change, down to the penny. Huh. Felix zipped the purse up and stuck it on his tray and walked back toward where Bert was sitting. Bill fell in step beside Felix. "You do that on purpose, don't you?" "Do what?" "You figure out, before you start your day, exactly what purchases you're going to make during the next twenty-four hours, count out the right change, and stick it in your purse. I mean, I have never seen you receive change after you pay for something." Bill nodded his head. "Yep, that's gotta be what you do. Do you have any idea how nuts that is?" Felix giggled even while storing that bit of information away. He seemed to be giggling more than usual today, which concerned him. "Honest, Bill, I don't do anything like that. That pulling out the exact change thing just sort of happened." "Uh-huh, right. You're the math girl, what are the odds?" "What are the odds of what?" asked Bert as the others took their seats. "The odds that Felicia always pulls exact change out of that purse of hers. Actually, how do you do that, Fee? I've been trying to figure that out for months." Elizabeth took a bite out of her grilled cheese and turned her head to look at Felicia, chewing as though on her own question. Felix stopped in mid chew as the others looked at him. He set his pizza back on its paper plate (the flimsy, greasy slice was folded over so that he could get more out of a single bite), swallowed mightily and wiped his face with his hand. "You really want to know?" "Yeah, tell us." Bert put on his most annoying smile. "The purse is magical. I never know what it's going to spit out, but it's been pretty helpful lately." The others laughed. Bert reached across the table and grabbed the bag, snorting. "Cute, Fee, real cute." He unzipped the purse and stuck his hand in. "Let's just see if it gives me what I need--hey!" Felix raised his eyebrows as a look of surprise and pain jumped onto Bert's face. If it were happening again, at least Bert deserved to learn what it was like on the other side of the gender barrier. Bert was able to pull his hand back out of the bag, though - along with the sturdy mousetrap that was clamped across his fingers. "Dammit, Felicia, that really hurt!" He couldn't help it; as soon as Bill and Liz started laughing, Felix lost it himself. Bert indignantly claimed not to see what was so funny for a couple of minutes, but was soon chuckling with the rest, as were the people in the surrounding areas who were able to see Bert's trapped hand. Bill looked over at Felicia. "You are diabolical." Felix could only smile. Once again, the bag had come up with exactly what was needed. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Andrea Watson had seriously considered skipping Chemistry to study for her OS test. Ron had been insatiable the night before, and she'd had to beg off in the morning because she was exhausted, which was unusual. It's not that she was a tramp - or at least she didn't consider herself one. She enjoyed sex, and figured that she was an above-average lover, but she had never cheated on a boyfriend, and any reputation she had for putting out on the first date was, with one exception, undeserved (and that had been Ron, not some one-night stand). She looked up as Felicia and Bert entered on the other side of the lecture hall. Andrea felt a little guilty about not seeing her former roommate very often, but they always had moved in different circles, and Andrea had never felt comfortable around Felicia. It wasn't just the money; even though her father was richer than God, Felicia never made a big deal about her family's wealth. Indeed, Andrea hadn't known about it until Felicia had given her a three-hundred dollar dress for Christmas. No, the money was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Felicia was tall, sexy, athletic, never had any trouble in class and practically didn't notice the way guys looked at her. Andrea wasn't exactly insecure, but she had to work - hard - for most of what came to Felicia naturally, and no amount of hard work would make up the eight inches Felicia had on her. Sure, some guys liked girls petite, but even they spotted Felicia first, and after someone saw Felicia, they were looking right over Andrea's head. Andrea's stomach growled. She would kill for Felicia's metabolism; Fee could eat like a guy and then redistribute it perfectly just by running or swimming for about twenty minutes, whereas Andrea hadn't eaten lunch two days in a row for almost five years in order to maintain her figure. It usually didn't bother her, but she hadn't finished her breakfast... "Hey, Fee - your old roommate's checking me out." Bert was misreading Andrea's introspective stare completely. "Who?" "Andrea Watson, like you've had another. She wants me." "She does not." "Hey, she's looking right at us, and I don't think she's taking you in. Uh-uh, she's trying to guess how big Little Bert is - and falling short, I might add." "Geez, Bert... I think I can pretty much guarantee you that she's got better taste than that." What is wrong with this guy? Felix wondered. He chuckled to himself. Doesn't Bert realize there are ladies present? Happily, Felix was spared any more of Bert talking when the lecture started up. It was pretty simple stuff - Felix had heard most of the lecture in high school, but a certain number of basic science courses were required regardless of one's major - so his mind was free to wander a little. He wondered about the life "Felicia" and those around her had led. No-one gave any sign that they thought anything was out of the ordinary. Bill and Bert seemed pretty much like what he remembered of them, Elizabeth acted like she owed him something and just assumed he knew what it was, and though he hadn't talked to Ron, it was clear that he and Andrea were sleeping together. Ron was (or had been) his friend; surely he wouldn't be able to have sex with Felix's girlfriend if he remembered what had happened last night at the theater. So why was he sitting next to Bert Compton, of all people? Bert was an ass, and even if there was anyone on campus more likely to try to cop a feel of Felix's new anatomy, names weren't jumping into Felix's head. But Bert seemed to think he was a friend, and maybe Felix needed any friend he could get, no matter how he came by them. Oh, the professor's drawing a diagram. Better get that down. So. That's Bert; what about Andrea. Andrea hadn't had a roommate last year (a fact which Felix and Andrea had put to good use after they'd been seeing each other for a month and a half), or, more accurately, hadn't had a roommate last year before last night (that one nearly made Felix's head hurt). So now they'd been roomies instead of lovers. It seemed odd; as much as Felix liked Andrea, he'