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Twisted - The Milky Way ElrodW A young man, stuck in an orphage, suddenly twists into a girl, and not just any girl, but a girl with special powers and compulsions with infants.and an embarrassing condition. Because the order running the orphanage hates Twisted, he's thrown out to a crisis shelter. Worse, a doctor starts to suspect that she's twisted and has a special trick. Now, she has to figure out how to escape a web of intrigue and blackmail, and hopefully, find someplace safe to start over. The author would like to thank Sir Lee, and other editors, and Morpheus for creating a fun universe that is open to play in. ************************************************** Twisted - The Milky Way ElrodW This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. As usual, few of the guys were managing to stay awake. A lot of them had given up even trying. It was difficult, bordering on impossible, because Ms. O'Neil was the epitome of boring. The joke was that she'd put an insomniac to sleep in twenty seconds flat. Her history lectures were agonizing to sit through, not that I had anything better to do. Here at the orphanage, there wasn't much to do for fun. I think all orphanages run by the Siblings of Peace were like that. As usual, I was daydreaming about science, and more specifically, astronomy. Since I could remember, I'd been fascinated by space. I enjoyed stargazing, peering into the heavens in awe and wonder at the marvels they held. My first memory of the stars was looking at the sky and thinking on a clear night and thinking there was a band of clouds. Someone told me, no, that was the Milky Way galaxy, the home of our sun, and its billions of stars. Daydreaming wasn't great for my grades, but it did help pass the time. Like just about every other one of the guys, I would have preferred to be in a foster home, or _any_ of the few other remaining orphanage, but it wasn't my choice, and besides, there weren't a lot of options in our state. The state's goal had been to close all orphanages in favor of foster care, but a few of the relics still clung to life. For one thing, if a baby was abandoned at an orphanage under the so-called 'Moses Law', the orphanage had the option to care for that child according to something called "implied preference" of the parent. Orphanages were well-known as places where desperate mothers could abandon their child and know that he or she would be cared for. Another factor was that some orphanages still managed to operate cheaper than foster families, and politicians loved saving money to spend somewhere else. A few groups, like the Siblings of Peace, saw an opportunity to practice their own brand of charity and education, especially since many of the order were retired and could thus teach and do administrative work at minimal expense. As a result, this branch of the Siblings had purchased an old convent that had been a small boarding school, and they moved their orphanage into the convent, squeezing the students quarters as tight as the law would allow, thus freeing up space in the buildings. Because of the additional room, they successfully argued that they could house all the orphans and have plenty of room for a school - and at low cost to the state welfare agency. The Siblings operated several orphanages because of this confluence of circumstances. The Siblings of Peace were a very backward, fundamentalist organization that believed in austere living, firm discipline, and abstinence from fun. Their education seemed to be more oriented toward brainwashing us into their peculiar beliefs. Between the rules of the order, and our housing arrangement, we jokingly referred to ourselves and 'monks', because life was as Spartan as some textbooks described in the old monestaries of the Dark Ages. At least the Siblings didn't still believe the world was flat, or that the sun orbited the earth, so they let me spend free time in the evenings with a small telescope stargazing - as long as I was inside by 'lights out'. It was one of my guilty pleasures, the other of which was the very personal activity common to pubescent teenage boys thinking of girls. When Ms. O'Neil asked about what we knew of the Twisted, I quit daydreaming and took interest in the topic. "That'd be so cool - having some kind of superpowers," I whispered to Jerrod, my best friend. "Not in this place," Jerrod whispered back. "You know what the order thinks of the Twisted." I nodded grimly. The Siblings espoused the philosophy that the Twisted were cursed by God, and therefore damned. We all could hear the disdain for the Twisted in Ms. O'Neil's voice. Nonetheless, she was required to teach the subject, since it was mandated by federal and state curriculum standards. Because federal law prohibited discrimination against Twisted, education about Twisted, and their origins, was required. "Who can tell me something about the Twisted?" she asked, glaring directly at me. "Lowell Hansen? I gulped, knowing that she'd seen or heard me talking to Jerrod. "Um," I tried to stall while I was mustering my facts. "They've got powers because of the Antarctic flu," I stammered. "Not quite," she said, scowling at me. Ms. O'Neil was a hawkish-looking older woman, with her hair in a severe bun, and not a trace of makeup on her face. In many ways, her unpleasant, severe looks were more intimidating than her harsh voice, but strangely, given the philosophy of the Siblings, it didn't seem out of place. The other guys were struggling to keep from snickering at my plight and lame answer. "Those who survived the virus had some kind of genetic mutation," I tried to recover. Even as I spoke, I knew that I'd waded further from their doctrine, and had probably earned an extra assignment on what the 'truth' really was, at least according to the Siblings. "That's the prevailing _secular_ theory," she said with contempt in her voice. "We all know that, just as the scriptures say, those cursed by God are cursed unto the seventh generation. The original survivors turned their backs on the Almighty and made a deal with Satan to spare their lives. As a result, the survivors and their descendants are cursed." "Don't the scientists say that it's some kind of quantum field that changes them and gives them their ... abilities?" Eric Matteson was a very sharp kid, a few years younger than me, but three years ahead of where he should have been in school. He was popular with all the guys because he didn't pretend to accept the Siblings' biased, fundamentalist viewpoints the way everyone else did, but instead, he argued, with facts to back him up. As a result, he frequently backed the teachers into a logic trap and left them looking foolish. He got a lot of extra assignments as a result, but it didn't seem to faze him. He could complete the average extra assignment in less than ten minutes. Eric was, as usual, deliberately baiting Ms. O'Neil. "The flu caused a mutation which enabled the genetic descendants of the survivors, able to tap into that field, which causes their changes and powers." "And there's a theory that it's caused by space aliens who exert mind control over the Twisted, too," she countered with contempt in her voice. We knew, from the way she answered, what she expected to see on the test next week, regardless of what the textbook said. Fortunately, the bell rang before the discussion became even more heated, and before Eric and I could get extra work. I sighed with relief at my escape as I grabbed my notebook and textbook and joined the other eleven in my class making a rapid exodus. The Siblings weren't wealthy enough to provide us with modern individual computers, and even if they had been, they really frowned on more modern teaching methods and tools, believing instead in instruction by early twentieth-century methods. The standing joke was that the reason we got notebooks was because papyrus was impossible to find, carving stone tablets left too much mess, and animal rights folks frowned on parchment. "I thought that was going to get weird," Jerrod said to me as he caught up in the hall. We trudged through the halls of the connected buildings back to the 'dorm', if you wanted to call it that. Eric, because he sat further from the door, had to trot to catch up to us. The halls were quite crowded because there were far more boys than should have been housed, or schooled, in this ancient building complex. It had once been a small convent school, with a dorm for about seventy to eighty students, a school, and a residence for the nuns. With two hundred orphans and the resident Siblings, the facility was really crowded way beyond its design. Because of their beliefs and the lack of facilities, the orphanage was run as boys-only. The state didn't like it being gender-separated, but they couldn't argue about the facilities. "Yeah, but by her standards, we're done with the Antarctic flu and the Twisted," I countered. "If it's not in their scripture, it's not worth spending time on. It's a curse from God." "Yeah." We watched the other students hustling about. It should have been loud and chaotic, especially since we'd just got out of the last class for the day, but even with so many boys, the halls were unbelievably quiet. The rules of the orphanage were very strict - no talking in the halls, even after school was over. "I got an off-campus pass," I whispered to Jerrod and Eric. "Wanna come?" "Shh," Eric hissed back. We shut up and put on dour expression as we passed the principal, Mrs. Lowrey. She was glaring at us - she probably suspected that we'd been talking in violation of the rules. I hoped she hadn't heard; I didn't want to lose my precious pass. Even the slightest discipline violations resulted in loss of privileges such as the occasional pass off-campus, or the hour of computer game time we got each week. A couple of times a week, those who were high-school age or above were given our 'spending allowance' and allowed - if our behavior had been satisfactory - to go out of the orphanage to buy personal supplies, go to a park, or even, in Eric's case, go to the library to read modern science books. If it hadn't been a state law, the Siblings would never have let us go. As it was, they found every excuse to curtail the privilege. Occasionally, someone would slip in some contraband from a shopping trip, like candy bars, comics, or worse. Rumor had it that one junior had a girly magazine hidden in his personal effects that the Siblings hadn't found. Supposedly, he charged by the minute to gawk at nude girly pictures. "I'm overdue for a pass, too," Jerrod whispered after Mrs. Lowrey had passed. "Me, too," Eric chimed in. "You're lucky you didn't lose yours today," I whispered back to Eric. Jerrod chuckled, which made Eric blush from embarrassment. We got back to our room - Eric, Jerrod, and I shared it with three other students. It had been a tiny attic room of the old convent; now it was a dorm room. Three of us would have been crowded; with six, it was like sardines in a can, even stacked in bunk beds. The ceiling was low and steeply sloped, so that if you weren't careful, you could really whack your head getting into or out of the top bunk. I'd done it many times when I first got to the room. It was the reason that, unlike most bunks, the bottom bunks were highly preferred. "Let me grab a jacket," Jerrod said, "and we'll go sign out." I hadn't planned on getting my jacket, since it was bright and sunny, but I remembered that it was mid-autumn, and that, once the sun set, the temperature would drop to the thirties, and any breeze would be brisk. I grabbed my jacket, too. A few minute later, the three of us were walking happily through the main gate, free for up to two hours. I had about half of my spending allowance - a small monthly stipend from the state child welfare agency that the orphanage was forced to keep in separate individual accounts for each of the children. I wanted to save what I could, so that someday, I could buy a real telescope, and I knew that having the money in my pocket would make it more tempting to spend. "Where to?" Jerrod asked as soon as we got off orphanage property. All our voices shifted from hushed whispers to rambunctious boy volume practically the minute we were out of the gate. Sometimes, when we got a pass, we'd just walk to a park and enjoy the vistas around us, since the city was nestled in the western foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Some of the guys, like me, especially admired the scenery of the majestic splendor of the mountains. Once in a rare while, we could get a pass and actually hike among the foothills of the mountains, temporarily away from the chaos of the city and the strict rules of the orphanage. "The mall," I answered firmly, and Eric nodded his agreement. I liked going to the mall, mostly because we could watch girls. It was hard to live in an all-male orphanage while going through puberty. We almost never saw girls; only the old, dour women of the order. We all joked that the women in the order were all spinsters or widows, because they all looked over sixty. I could understand that; their concept of fun living would be boring to anyone who wasn't comatose. Looking at them was no relief to a boy who's started to wonder about the opposite sex. We caught the bus, and rode to the mall. Inside, we walked slowly, watching the girls strolling past as we joked and laughed about what it would be like to be in a public school where we could interact with these delightful creatures on a daily basis. It was a common conversation topic in the orphanage school - at least to those of who realized that girls really _didn't_ have cooties. Because he was a few years younger than Jerrod and me, Eric wasn't quite as enthusiastic about girl- watching, but he was acquiring the desire quickly. One of my stops was the bookstore; I hoped, once more, that I could find a source of plans or kits for a telescope. I _knew_ that I could build myself a telescope better than I could buy - and that it would be an activity which the order would permit. Unfortunately, just about every book which addressed the topic was an electronic book, and without good e-book readers at the orphanage, I had to keep trying to find a hardcopy book. Besides, if I had hardcopy, I could read even if the computers and electronics were powered off for the night. While I was looking, Jerrod and Eric sat down outside to continue their study of other heavenly bodies. Even the astronomy magazines were electronic, and thus of no use to me. Disappointed, as usual, I trudged back out of the store to rejoin my friends. "Nothing?" Jerrod asked needlessly. "No," I replied glumly. "I'm going to have to spend one of my passes at the city library. Maybe I can find something there." "Better chance of that than convincing Lowrey to buy an e-reader," Eric said with a snort. He loved science, but most magazines and books on the subject had long-ago been converted to electronic format, so he shared my frustration. "I wonder if they'd let me spend my own money for one," I asked softly, mostly to myself. "No," Jerrod answered with a grin. "You know they think computers are evil!" "Yeah, I know," I answered glumly. The order's objection to modern technology had even allowed them a religious exemption from the e- identity program, which was extremely rare these days. Still, I could dream that I might get an e-reader someday. When Jerrod had to use the restroom, Eric and I sat down on a bench in a courtyard of the mall. There were numerous benches around a fountain in the center of the sitting area, to provide some atmosphere. I was gazing about lazily, not looking at anyone in particular, but just taking in all scenery. That changed when I saw a piece of 'mobile scenery,' an attractive girl, who really caught my attention. "Look at her," I nudged Eric while I looked at the girl. He noted where I was looking, and followed my gaze. "Wow!" he said softly, his eyes nearly bugging out. It was easy to understand why. The girl was very attractive, with long legs, short shorts, and a crop top with spaghetti straps, exposing lots of skin. Compared to the frumpy concealing clothing of the sisters of the order, the girl was practically naked. She knew that she was attracting attention; her butt swayed seductively with every step, accentuated by her stiletto-heeled shoes. Her hair was quite daring - cut short and sassy like a rock singer and tinged with pink and purple. She had tattoos on both ankles, on one shoulders, and another centered in the inviting valley of cleavage. She wore three stud earrings in each ear and a matching jeweled piercing in her navel, too. "Old Lady Lowrey would have a heart attack if she were here," Eric chuckled. "So would O'Neil," I added with a grin. Eric's head tracked her like radar, while I let my eyes wander more. While the girl was quite attractive, with a lot of rebellious edginess that was appealing to us 'monks', I'd seen more and better. I laughed to myself as I wondered whether I had been like Eric on my first outings. While I was girl-watching, I started to feel a little sorry for myself. It happened on every outing. Even the rebellious kids had something that I didn't - parents and family that cared about them, even if it was only just a bit. I envied them. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I still had some faint, hazy memories of a man and a woman, smiling and happy - probably my parents. The other kids were lucky; they'd been abandoned when they were too young, and didn't remember. I did. I was between two and three when I'd been abruptly abandoned, left on the step of a social welfare office. I had memories; the others didn't. It was ironic; the others envied me because I actually remembered parents, while I envied them because they didn't have the pain of those memories. It made a huge difference, mostly causing me to feel depressed. In my heart, I was convinced that there was something very wrong with me that had made them not want me. If there were records, no-one had told me. That was a mixed blessing; I wanted desperately to know, but I feared finding out what was so wrong. Eric continued to gawk, fixing his stare on a pair of attractive girls walking hand-in-hand through the mall. I'd learned - from older boys and watching - that some people were gay, and publicly showing their affection for their partners was common-place, unlike what the order taught in the orphanage. "Waste of time," I joked to Eric. "They're not into guys." "What?" he asked, surprised by my comment. He was almost entirely fixated on the girls; I chuckled to myself. It obviously was his first encounter with homosexuality, and he couldn't help but stare, both because the girls were attractive, and because they were lesbians. I laughed. The Siblings didn't even acknowledge homosexuality because it was so 'sinful'. "Some guys like guys, and some girls like girls. They try to pretend it doesn't happen when they teach us. They really scrubbed the sex ed class of things like that." I was struck, for the first time, that perhaps the Siblings were withholding information on other subjects as well. I thought about the way Eric had defended the Twisted in class. "What do you know about the Twisted that they're not teaching us?" "You know about the Antarctic Flu, right?" Eric asked solemnly. "Yeah. They teach that part without their religious bias," I answered. History was history; the Siblings couldn't really teach other than what was recorded about that devastating outbreak. A scientist at the Antarctic research station had accidentally become infected with a new strain of what everyone called flu just before he returned to North America. It wasn't really influenza, but it spread like flu, so it picked up the name. While he was infectious but before he was showing symptoms, he'd traveled to present a couple of papers at universities, which communicated the virus widely across the country. By the time symptoms began to show, it was already a pandemic. Death was widespread because the survival rate wasn't high. The entire country was quarantined, travel was completely halted, and in some places martial law was declared. In a miraculous fluke, against staggering odds, no-one who was infected had traveled outside the US before the travel restrictions were in place. The Centers for Disease Control very hastily developed a vaccine, and an emergency campaign inoculated everyone against the virus. The outbreak was quashed, but not before over two million people had died and countless others had survived the infection. "You know that some people survived the Antarctic Flu, right?" I nodded. "That's where the Siblings say it was a deal with the devil." "Hardly," Eric snorted. "It's just normal biology. Genetic diversity means that not every organism is vulnerable to every pathogen. Otherwise, one virus or bacterium could wipe out a species." "Careful saying that back at the school," I laughed. "They'll brand you a heretic and burn you at the stake!" "I'm non-flammable," Eric replied with a grin. "Anyway, like I said in class, those who survived had a genetic mutation caused by the virus. When the children got old enough, they suddenly got a connection to what's called the Darrington Field. It's some strange quantum thing scientists didn't know about until the first Twisted started to appear. Because of the field, people who are Twisted have the ability to tap into the field and do things we'd call super-powers." I shuddered visibly. Super-powers sounded scary. Eric noticed my discomfort. "Not everyone who's Twisted has powers. The bad thing is that when someone who has the mutation first experiences the field, it can change them." "Change? How?" That sounded disturbing. What must it be like for Twisted to know that, when they first encountered the field, they were possibly going to change? "Physical, mental. According to the articles I read, it's kind of random. The scary thing is that it can change behavior - sometimes, pretty radically." "That's why there was the mass murderer who was Twisted," I said, finally seeing how things were connected. I would have never learned that in the orphanage. "Yeah. That's why the Twisted scare people, because the Twists are so unpredictable." Eric was quite somber at this point, and the entire spirit of girl-watching had dissipated. I'd learned enough of what they didn't teach in the orphanage. Perhaps ignorance really was bliss; not knowing details about the Twisted made it easier to pretend they didn't exist, or to assume that I'd never interact with them. Thinking about the Twisted made me nervous. "Hey, look at her," I said, looking and quickly pointing at a girl strolling down through the mall. Eric looked where I had briefly pointed. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Wow!" Wow wasn't an understatement. The girl I'd noticed had long, flowing, wavy hair that hung down to the small of her back. Despite the cool autumn weather outside, she wore shorts that couldn't have been any shorter, and her top looked like it was spray-painted onto her moderate, perfectly-shaped bosom. She walked with a hypnotic sway, with her hair bobbing about seductively. The most interesting thing was the color of her sexy hair - it was electric blue on the left half, and silver on the right half. It was a startling - and sexy - combination. Both Eric and I gawked openly at her, and I suspected that many other guys were doing the same. There was something about her that demanded our attention. After she went into a store, we continued watching other girls walk by. Sometimes, Eric or I would make a wishful comment or observation, as I supposed was normal for teenage boys. When the silver and blue-haired girl came out, we were again immediately attracted to her, like iron to a magnet. Eventually, she departed from our view, and we went back to gazing at 'regular' girls. As I glanced around, I spotted a very attractive young woman with a stroller sitting down on a bench across from Eric and me. She pulled a shawl out of the stroller, and draped it over one shoulder, following which she picked up her baby. After she fiddled a bit with her shirt, she draped the shawl over the baby, too. It took me a moment to realize that she was nursing her child. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult. I was fifteen, and had been not around women much - certainly not around older women with babies. And here was a woman breast-feeding right in front of me. It was something that I knew a little bit about; even in the very sterile biology classes of the orphanage-school, the boring teachers couldn't disguise the fact that breasts weren't just ornamental, but had a functional purpose. In fact, that was about the _only_ thing they acknowledged as a purpose for breasts. The woman glanced my way, and I know she saw me staring. She just gave me a slight smile and turned her attention back to her infant. Public breastfeeding was, I learned later, so common as to not be worth mention or embarrassment, except to orphans like me who lived inside a prison wall of the order, isolated from the world. When she switched breasts, the shawl shifted, and I could very clearly see her very ample breast, with the baby suckling. "Hey," Jerrod called over my shoulder, interrupting my gawking. "Let's go." I tore my gaze from the woman, and left with Jerrod and Eric, glancing back over my shoulder at the woman. The expression on her face had really caught my attention; she appeared to be entranced by what she was doing. Some of that, of course, had to be from her love for her infant, and her instinct to care for her infant. Being a teenager, and having heard 'locker room talk' from older boys, I couldn't help wondering if part of her smile was from some hidden pleasure of having a baby suckle her breasts. Whatever it was, she looked totally peaceful attending to her child. It was a picture-perfect image of a mother and her precious baby. We continued to wander through the mall, even after we'd made our purchases. We were just walking aimlessly, staring more at girls than anything else. It was tough to not be conspicuous as we ogled and gawked; we were obvious enough that we got more than a few angry glares from boyfriends. Despite the plentitude of attractive girls, I couldn't get my mind off the mother nursing her baby. Had my mom nursed me? Had she held me so lovingly while I fed at her bosom? And if she'd done that, how could she possibly have turned her back on me and abandoned me? I fought the stinging in my eyes; I didn't want to cry in front of my friends or the people bustling about the mall. I'd save my tears for later, in the middle of the night, when everyone was asleep. I always did when I got in a melancholy mood. Not quite two hours after we'd left the orphanage, we walked back through the gate with a couple of bags each. I'd gotten two new shirts and some new socks. Jerrod had gotten a new pair of pants to replace the ones he'd torn trying to play football in the hallway. Eric hadn't spent any of his 'allowance.' "You're almost late," Mrs. Lowrey said with a scowl as we signed back in. "Let's see." We sighed. Every trip off the grounds followed the same ritual - rigorous sign-out and sign-in time, followed by an inspection of our packages. Occasionally, one of the brothers did a more 'personal' inspection if it was suspected that contraband was being smuggled in. Because he didn't have any packages, Eric got a minor frisking to be certain he wasn't trying something funny. "I hate this fucking place," I said with a sigh as we trudged across a small courtyard and into our dorm. "You say that every time you get back from a trip off-campus," Jerrod laughed. "I say that even when I _don't_ go off campus," I retorted sharply. Everyone felt the same. This time, though, the return trip was more painful. In that brief encounter in the mall, I'd had a brutal reminder of how defective I was. The rest of the evening sucked. We could either do our tedious and boring homework, read from the order's very limited library, or watch a few very old, boring, and 'safe' movies on the television. Yes, the order was so cheap that they still used that antique television instead of a modern holo-screen - not that it would have helped with most of the videos. Some were even, unbelievably, 2-D and monochrome! Once my homework was done, it was early night-time, so I went out to the courtyard and sat on the cold stone ledge of a fountain in the courtyard of the orphanage. I could see the stars, my heavenly friends, twinkling at me reassuringly. No matter what else happened, they were a constant. We weren't in a huge city, so light pollution wasn't a big issue. Because of that, I could see the hazy band of the Milky Way across the sky, our galaxy with its countless stars, wrapped across the sky like a warm blanket. I began to inventory the stars and constellations I knew, testing my memory. I paused when I noted Mars in the night sky, which distracted me to look for other planets. Jupiter was visible, but I couldn't find Uranus or Neptune. I knew it was far too late to even think about seeing Venus. Still, it was pleasant to think of the stars. I wanted to become an astronomer - someday. First, though, I reminded myself, I had to survive the orphanage, and then figure out how to pay for college. I wasn't such a good student that I would easily get a good scholarship. Maybe, I pondered, it was time to start applying myself a little more. Eventually, the evening breeze and temperature got cold enough to slice through my jacket and make me start shivering. I fought the discomfort for as long as I could, because time star-gazing was one time I had all to myself. It was tranquil time. A couple years earlier, I'd tried to start an astronomy club, in hope that we could persuade the order to buy a decent telescope, but none of the other guys shared my interest, and the idea fizzled. I trudged inside, glancing at the clock as I walked in. Mrs. Lowery was at her desk - still - watching me with an eagle eye as I came through. I gulped when I saw the clock; I was within a few minute of being late for curfew and earning some type of punishment. I hurried to my room, so I could be in bed. After 'lights out', I tossed and turned a bit before I opted to read a book that I'd picked up on my previous outing, a collection of science fiction stories called "The Past Through Tomorrow". I didn't think that Lowery or any of the other Siblings knew the book, since it had a few stories that were not exactly complimentary of religions like the order. It was a huge book, and at times, difficult to stay focused, but at least it occupied my mind while I wasn't in class or sleeping. It was also on the 'approved' list of the order - barely. Many books I _wanted_ to read weren't. Much later, after curfew and lights out, I was still trying to read under the covers, using a small reading lamp. I'd had to smuggle that in, because the only reason one would use a reading lamp was for reading after curfew and lights out. Several times, I'd almost been caught in the illicit activity of reading late at night. For some reason, the pages seemed blurry. Despite my efforts to focus on the words of the book, I couldn't get my mind off the woman, and the thought that I'd once had a mother like that, but that she'd abandoned me. From the look on the woman's face as she cared for her infant, I could see how much she loved the baby. I wondered if my real mother had ever looked at _me_ that way? Had she nursed me, cradling me tenderly while she saw to my needs? Those questions made the sting of abandonment all that more painful. I tried to focus on my book again, and noticed that there were drops on the pages, tears which I hadn't even noticed had run down my cheeks and dripped onto my precious book. Sometime around two in the morning, I closed the book, giving up on reading. My eyes were too misty, and I was in too melancholic a mood, probably as depressed as I'd ever felt about being an orphan. I was alone in the world, unwanted, rejected, defective. I'd been abandoned by my mother - a woman who should have loved me like the woman in the mall did with her infant. Fighting tears, I sat up, and then crawled cautiously down from my bunk, my reading light and book in hand. I was ashamed to admit it, but I had to put them away so I could crawl back up in my bed and cry myself to sleep - again. I'd just put my light away in the back of a tiny drawer, behind a false back I'd fashioned, when I felt a powerful tingling sensation through my entire body. My hair felt like it was standing on end. It was uncomfortable and disturbing, and my muscles were twitching as if something was interfering with my nervous system. "What the fuck?" I said aloud in surprise. The tingling quickly got stronger and more uncomfortable. "Jerrod!" I tried to call out. "Eric! Help ...." My vision faded very quickly, and before I blacked out, I felt like I was falling. ********** Slowly, light crept back into my world, dimly at first. I didn't know how long I'd blacked out. Every muscle in my body hurt - badly - and I couldn't move. I became aware that people were hovering over me, staring in disbelief, with the room light on. My first thought was that we were going to get in serious trouble for violating lights out. I realized that Jerrod was staring at me, his mouth open in astonishment. "Get ... get whoever is in the office," he nervously ordered one of the other boys, a lad even younger than Eric. The boy stared at Jerrod, looked at me in disbelief again, and then darted out the door. The way the boys were looking at me made me nervous. Slowly, feeling started coming back to me, like the tingling of Novocain wearing off at the dentist. It felt creepy, because it involved my whole body, not just part of my jaw. I tried to move, but I still couldn't - yet. "What ...?" I tried to ask. Even speaking was uncomfortable. "Jerrod," I pleaded, "what ... what happened?" Something seemed wrong with my voice. Jerrod looked around the room, then back at me. "Who ... who are you?" he asked, his eyes wide. "It's me," I countered weakly. I saw the look on his face at my response, and I felt fear. My best friend didn't know who I was. I glanced around at the other faces, and I realized they had the same expression - no recognition of who I was. "It's me, Lowell," I added. Something was wrong with my hearing; my voice sounded strange echoing in my head. I wanted to push myself up, but found that my limbs weren't responding like they should have. "What happened?" I stammered again. The tingling was slowly fading, but what replaced it was the sensation of a cool draft on my body. That made no sense; I was in my pajamas, and the order, while cheap, kept the temperature in the living areas reasonable. I _couldn't_ be cool. As sensation returned to my body, it began to feel strangely like I was cold because I was naked - which was impossible. There was a commotion at the door, and then I heard Mrs. Lowery. She must have had the night shift in the office. "What's going on here?" she growled. The guys hovered above me, staring wide-eyed, parted like the Red Sea. "What's going on?" She saw me on the floor, and her expression darkened. "Who are you?" she demanded angrily. "How did you get in here?" Her scowl deepened, and she turned to one of my roommates. "Give me a blanket," she demanded. She impatiently snatched it from the boy who was hesitantly handing it to her. Curiously, she squatted down and pulled the blanket over me. Almost instantly, the drafty sensation disappeared, but I was left feeling uneasy by the way she was glaring at me. She stood up and turned to the other boys, including many from other rooms who were gathered in the doorway to stare. "Out!" she barked. Immediately, the boys scattered in fear. Lowery turned back to me. Her glare, which had been just angry, became a fear-inducing thing. "Who are you, and how did you get in here?" she demanded again. I was able to roll over from my side, but the sensation left me unsure of trying to sit up. "I'm Lowell," I replied, as if the answer was blatantly obvious. "You are obviously _not_ Lowell," she snapped. "Young lady, I don't know what your game is, or how you got here, but if you don't start providing some answers NOW, I'll have to call the police." I was dazed. She didn't recognize me. "But ... I _am_ Lowell," I said again. Once more, I flinched at the way my voice sounded. "I was putting away a book, and I must have passed out." Based on her lack of recognition, I wondered if I'd changed somehow, and my muscles were still too stiff and sore for me to look at myself. Besides, I was covered with a blanket. "You'll see that this is nothing to joke about," she hissed at me. She grabbed my arm and effortlessly pulled me to my feet. Something was wrong. She shouldn't have been able to pick me up so easily. My mind belatedly registered that she had called me 'young lady'. And the blanket slipped off my body again. I managed to look down, and promptly screamed before I fainted. It may not have been what I wanted to do, but it was what my brain selected as the best course of action to minimize my shock. Consciousness returned rather abruptly when acrid smell of ammonia irritated my nose and lungs. I coughed to rid myself of the unpleasant smell while I tried to pull away from its source. I was on the floor again, and covered in a blanket again. "Can you get up?" Mrs. Lowery asked, a little less harshly. The fact that I'd fainted had obviously caused her some concern, if only for liability reasons. "Who are you?" she asked again. I sat up, very unsteadily. Things felt ... wrong. That matched what I'd been hearing in my voice, and what I saw when I glanced down at myself. "I'm Lowell," I insisted again. "What the hell happened to me?" I cried out, remembering the sight that had greeted my eyes when I'd looked down a bit ago. "You can't be Lowell," Mrs. Lowery retorted with a scowl. "And don't swear!" I looked up at her, hoping to find some sympathy in her weathered face. "I'm ... I'm a girl? How? How did I turn into a girl?" I was fighting the urge to panic, but some crept into my voice. "Mrs. Lowery," I heard Jerrod's voice calling from the doorway, "Lowell is missing." Her eyes widened. "What do you mean, missing?" "I did a check," Jerrod answered uneasily. "Lowell is missing." In all the time I'd been at the orphanage, I'd never seen Mrs. Lowery express disbelief or surprise. "But ... that _can't be_!" she said, her mouth agape. Eric pushed his way through the throng of boys crowding the doorway, staring wide-eyed at me. "Are you really Lowell?" he asked, incredulously. I turned and looked at him, and saw the same expression I'd seen a few hours ago when he was staring at girls in the mall. "Uh huh," I said weakly. "How ... what happened?" He frowned. "Did you feel like static electricity was going through you before you passed out? Did you have uncontrollable muscle spasms?" Eric asked. His tone of voice was unnerving. He sounded like he knew what had happened to me. "Yeah," I answered nervously. "Look at the floor," he pointed toward where I'd been lying. I glanced down, too, and saw that the hardwood floor was slightly blackened around where I was sitting. "So?" Eric bit his lip. "I think ...," he started to say, hesitating. "I think ... you're Twisted. Those scorch marks are ... common when someone goes through ... an extreme Twist. It's the effect of the quantum field during a change." "What?" I couldn't believe what he was saying. "I _can't_ be Twisted!" I looked up, my eyes pleading, to Mrs. Lowery. Her expression had changed from merely angry to full-blown furious. "Mrs. Lowery, tell him that I'm not Twisted!" Mrs. Lowery shook her head, her lip suddenly trembling with rage. She turned to Eric and Jerrod. "Bring it to the main office," she said with a disgusted sneer before she turned and stomped out the door, her demeanor showing nothing but contempt for me. "Oh, shit," I muttered to myself. If I really _was_ Twisted, then I was in deep trouble. The order believed that Twisted were devil-spawn. I didn't miss that Mrs. Lowey had called me 'it'. To her, I had instantly become less than human. I suddenly knew that I wasn't going to be welcome in the orphanage any longer. Eric and Jerrod hesitantly stooped beside me. "Are you really Lowell?" Jerrod asked hesitantly. I just nodded. I was a girl. Impossibly, inconceivably, I was somehow a girl. And Twisted? It suddenly dawned on me - one or both of my parents must have been Twisted, and when they figured that I might end up the same way, they abandoned me. And if they'd have done that, would they have stayed together? No wonder I'd been abandoned. I was a mutant freak. They didn't want a Twisted monster for a child. I felt like a knife had torn through my heart, rending every hope or wish I'd ever had, or thought of who I might be, or that I might someday find my real family. I started crying uncontrollably. Jerrod and Eric helped me, still wrapped in a blanket to cover my nudity, down to the main office. Mrs. Lowery was there, her back to the door, working furiously at the computer in the office. Without looking up, she ordered, "Sit down." I sat down in a chair, holding the blanket tightly around me. I knew what I'd become, and I'd seen Eric and Jerrod gawking at girls a few hours ago. I felt myself blush when I realized that they might be staring at _me_ that same way. Only, I'd been nude, and they had gotten a full peep show. "You may go," Ms. Lowery ordered Jerrod and Eric. Eric gave me a sympathetic look as he went out the door. Of all the guys, he was the one who seemed least biased against Twisted, and most knowledgeable about what had happened to me. Jerrod just looked confused. I could tell he wanted to stare at me, which was my first clue that I was probably at least a bit cute, but he was torn because I had been his best friend. "Sorry, Lowell," Jerrod whispered to me as he left the office. Mrs. Lowery sat at the computer for several long, awkwardly silent minutes. I knew better than to speak; her gaze was so fiery that it could melt steel. She finally turned from the computer. "There are two women's shelters within reasonable distance. I'll have one of the Brothers take you." I was stunned. It was the middle of the night, and they wanted to get rid of me immediately? I should have known, based on how the order felt about the Twisted, but this? "I ... I can't go," I tried to protest, ignoring the girl's voice echoing in my ears. "We will NOT have someone like you around here to corrupt the others," Mrs. Lowery snapped. Their teachings said that I was an evil presence and they had to be rid of me, and the sooner, the better. "You ... you can't discriminate against me because I'm Twisted," I protested feebly, trying to use what I'd read in our civics textbook. Laws had been passed to assure the rights of Twisted. They weren't always enforced by locals, but there were _supposed_ to be federal teeth to the laws. If I hadn't read the book, but had relied only on the biased lecture, I wouldn't have known anything about civil rights for Twisted. Mrs. Lowery's scowl deepened, if such were possible. "Maybe not because you're ... one of _them_," she hissed, "but this is a boys' boarding school, and I _am_ allowed to keep girls out!" "So ... you're going to send me away - in the middle of the night, like this?" I said through my tears. My voice trembled at the desperate plight I was in already, and the thought of being cast out of the orphanage in the middle of the night was making me tremble with fear. "Naked? With nothing?" I was hoping to appeal to whatever smattering of humanity and charity was left beneath her crusty, heartless exterior - if any. She flinched at what I'd said. "I'll have one of the boys get your things," she said. "Some of your clothes will probably ... cover you." She was going to force me out at two in the morning, but at least she wouldn't do so with me naked and without any possessions. I could tell she wasn't happy that I'd forced her to relent a bit, but I had no choice. "And the allowance from the state - that's legally mine." "Fine!" she snarled. She turned back to her desk as though glad to get me out of her sight. She pushed a button on the phone. "Brother Martin, get a couple of the boys to bring ... Lowell's ... belongings to the main office." She went to the back office, where I knew the safe was kept. Since I'd had a pass the night before, she probably hadn't yet reconciled the books, so she was going to have to make sure my 'allowance' account was properly balanced. She may have hate what I'd become, and didn't want to give me anything, let alone my money, but she didn't want to get in trouble with the state for having her books not balance properly. Jerrod and Eric, escorted by Brother Martin, came into the office. Brother Martin was a pudgy, older man with a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard, which matched the graying rim of hair around his balding head. He also had no moustache, which made him look like the Amish sect we'd learned about that still lived in Pennsylvania and completely shunned technology. Not all Brothers wore beards, but Brother Martin seemed proud of his - it was scriptural, after all, he always said. Jerrod and Eric just stood, holding my clothing and books, not quite knowing what to do. "Put that on the chair," Brother Martin said tersely. I could tell that he already knew about me, and was equally indisposed to civility, since I was, in his eyes, cursed by the devil. He barely looked at me. "Go to the restroom and get some clothes on," he ordered sternly. Without another acknowledgement of my presence, he walked into the inner office. "Damn," Jerrod said, wide-eyed, as he stared at me. "I can't believe it's you, Lowell! This is ... weird!" "How do you think I feel about it?" I snapped back at him. "I don't want to be Twisted! I don't want to be a girl!" I looked at Eric, and I know my teary eyes were begging for information. "How ... how do I cure this?" Eric shook his head, tracking me with his eyes, which had that appreciative stare. "From what I've read," he explained, "twists are permanent. You _can't_ go back." "There _has_ to be a way," I complained, sobbing as I spoke. It was pretty overwhelming to discover, in the span of a few minutes, that you were Twisted, and had to spend the rest of your life as a girl. And then to be kicked out onto the streets? "I don't want to be a girl!" I was fighting back tears, and losing the battle. "At least you're cute," Jerrod tried to lighten the mood. The glare I gave him let him know that I wasn't amused in the least. "You better go get some clothes on before you get old-lady Lowery any madder," Eric prompted. I knew he was right. "Yeah. And you guys better get back to your rooms before _you_ get in trouble, too." "Yeah." I could see that Jerrod was torn between shaking my hand and giving me a 'guy hug' like we'd done so often over the years. He ended up doing neither. "Try to let me know where you're at, okay?" he said. "You may be a chick now, but you're still my best friend." "Me, too," Eric chimed in. "Okay," I said, fighting back tears. Maybe the order was going to treat me like an outcast, but my friends were trying to be supportive - even if it was going to be difficult once I left the orphanage. "I'll try." Eric and Jerrod left quickly, with Jerrod glancing over his shoulder at me once before they went around a corner. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Since I didn't like the thought of being naked, I picked some of my clothes from the chair beside me, and then, careful to keep the blanket around my body, shuffled awkwardly into the bathroom across the hall. In many ways, I was lucky. The bathroom by the main office was designed for a single person, and it had a locking door. I didn't have to worry about any staff members - or other boys - coming in and seeing me naked. I didn't even want to see myself nude, but the thought of someone else seeing me sans clothing - again - made me shudder. Enough people had already had a good look at my naked body. Once I locked the door, I dropped the blanket and most of my clothes so I could slip on my underwear. I was careful not to look at my rearranged crotch. I was in enough shock without having to confront a girl's sex between my legs. I knew, that if Eric was right and this was permanent, I'd have to face it sooner or later. I preferred later. When I lifted my head as I pulled up the shorts, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I gasped - the reflection _couldn't_ be me. It just couldn't. The girl in the mirror was cute. There was no denying that, even reflected in the old, dirty mirror, the image was of a cute girl. Even with disheveled hair, she was attractive. Transfixed, I stepped closer to the mirror to stare. My hair had turned from sandy-blonde to medium brown, and it was now long, draping over my shoulders. My eyes were brown, warm and inviting, and they looked so large and innocent on my smaller face. I had to force my gaze away from my new face, which both transfixed and horrified me. As I scanned down the image, I started. I now had breasts. Large breasts. They looked enormous, hanging off my chest proudly, capped by large, dark nipples that, in the cool air, were erect like pointy little nose-cones. Whenever I moved, I could feel them bob and sway, tugging in an unfamiliar manner on my chest. I wanted to scream at what I'd become, but I was numb, most likely still in a state of shock at what had happened to me. Maybe it was something about the Twist, too, that left me feeling emotionally empty like I was. I felt a shiver when I thought that maybe I'd changed mentally, and wasn't bothered by being a girl, like Eric said happened sometimes. But if I _was_ comfortable because of mental changes, would the thought of having mental changes bother me? I couldn't see anything below my flat abdomen and narrow waist; a pair of boys' boxer shorts fortunately hid all the changes further down. I felt my guts twist in anguish when I contemplated the magnitude of the changes. I knew that my male parts were gone. I didn't have to look to know that. I was going to have to face what _that_ meant - things we'd barely covered in the restricted, sanitized biology class, things like having a period, hygiene, and ... sex, with all _that_ brought. I shuddered to think that'd I ever have to use birth control - the thought of having sex in my new body was almost enough to make me faint again. I clutched at the rim of the sink with both hands to steady myself, while taking some small measure of comfort that the thought of sex made me so uneasy. It might be a sign that I hadn't had mental changes, or at least not profound ones. The insistent knock on the door interrupted my self-study. "Hurry up. It's time for you to go." Mrs. Lowery wasn't going to cut me any slack. Sighing, I pulled on my pants, and discovered that the legs were too long and the waist too large because I was physically shorter and smaller, but the seat was very tight. My first guess was that I'd lost at least five or six inches of height. I was actually afraid of moving for fear the seam would split wide open. I pulled the belt as tight as it would go, but even on the last hole, it was too large, and then rolled up the legs into cuffs so they didn't drag on the floor. I cautiously pulled a shirt over my head and arms, and then down over my chest. At my waist and shoulders, the knit fabric hung loose, because the shirt was too large, but two spots of my new anatomy stretched the fabric tight. I shuddered again involuntarily. I'd attract a lot of attention dressed the way I was, and not because I was wearing boys' clothes. I left the blanket lying on the bathroom floor. Given the order's prejudice, they'd probably burn it anyway. I found myself hunching my shoulders forward as I left, trying to do anything to minimize my new curves. When I walked back into the office, I saw a glower on Mrs. Lowery's face as she stared at my shapely upper torso. The part of me that was defiant, angry, and rebellious had a mental image; for the briefest of moments, of stepping face to face with her, thrusting out my chest, and asking her if she was jealous. I didn't wait for that thought to die; I put it down mercilessly, even as I realized that such behavior was part of my old personality. That much hadn't changed, despite what Eric had told me was possible. But I feared that I'd even _had_ such a thought. What if it wasn't from my old self, but was a change? Did my mind now think I should strut around like a stripper or porn star? Is that where the strange thought had come from? It was scary to not know how I was different, or even how or if I would even know. Looking down to avoid the angry stare, I picked up my jacket and pulled it on, letting its bulk help disguise my new anatomy. "Do you ... have a box or something I can put my stuff in?" I asked hesitantly. Considering how she'd treated me in the minutes since my Twist, Mrs. Lowery definitely wasn't on my Christmas list, and I wasn't on hers. I really didn't care what she thought after I left, but she still had a lot to say about my fate, at least until I got somewhere where I wouldn't be rejected - again. She glared at me, but got a small box from the inner office. My emotional numbness was wearing off as we drove, replaced with self- loathing and anger. I hated what I'd become. I was a damned girl - with big hooters. By the estimation of my friends, I was also cute, too, which only made me feel worse. And I was very conscious that Brother Martin, as he drove, kept stealing glances over at my curvy figure. I was a mutant, a Twisted, and because of that, an orphanage had rejected me. I knew in my heart that was why my parents had rejected me, too. I was unwanted. With every passing block, my mood darkened, until by the time the car pulled up in front of a dilapidated building, I wanted to die. I could see no reason to live. Brother Martin was at least polite enough to carry my box of belongings - what few there were - as we walked toward the entrance. Over the double door entrance, a sign read, "Mercy Crisis Shelter". It fit - I'd had a crisis. As a Twisted outcast, I definitely needed mercy. And I needed temporary shelter, until I could figure out what to do with myself. I wondered if they felt like the order, and would reject me as well, because I was Twisted. Based on the limited bias I'd encountered, I feared suddenly that the whole world was prejudiced against Twisted. Against me. Brother Martin rang the buzzer, since it was still way before normal business hours. Eventually, a speaker beside the door clicked. "May I help you?" a woman's voice asked. Brother Martin glared at me uneasily. "I'm from the Siblings of Peace orphanage," he said in a calm but clipped tone. "We found ... a young lady ... at our doorstep, and we brought her here for shelter." He was lying, and his expression darkened, as if having to lie was entirely my fault. "The orphanage is a boys-only facility," he continued quickly, "and we can't accommodate her, even in an emergency." "I'll be right out," the woman said before the speaker clicked off. In a moment, true to her word, she was at the doors, unlocking one. "Please step inside," she urged us. As soon as both Brother Martin and I were inside, she relocked the door. Her caution, and the state of the neighborhood, didn't inspire my confidence any, especially since I _knew_ what I looked like. If I'd felt vulnerable before, it was nothing compared to the sense of vulnerability that was quickly overtaking me. I was a small, helpless girl. She must have dealt with the order previously. "I'm Marge Ericson. What happened to you?" she asked me. She didn't sound suspicious, but friendly. "I ... I don't ... remember," I stammered. In truth, I did, but I didn't want to make the woman hate me as much as the Brothers and Sisters did. From the corner of my eye, I saw Brother Martin frown - he wondered if I was going to make him lie even more. "I ... woke up outside the building. I ... don't remember, but ... I think I was naked. The ... orphanage got me some clothes." "We got her a few things ... from one of our former students," Brother Martin added quickly. At least that wasn't a lie. I was still waiting, though, for him to tell them about me being Twisted. "It's all she's got." I suddenly realized that he wasn't going to take a chance and tell them I what I really was, for fear they'd reject me as well, and the order would be stuck with me a bit longer. Between a lie of omission, and being stuck with evil incarnate in their midst, stretching or omitting the facts was an easy choice for Brother Martin. Marge gave me the once-over. "Well, since it's a boys' orphanage, I can understand why they don't have anything that fits. We'll have to see if we can help with that." Marge grabbed a data pad from a secretary's desk near the doors. "Let's get some information. Name?" "Uh," I stammered, wide-eyed. I couldn't tell them that my name was Lowell. That'd tip them off, and probably get me tossed from _there_ as well. "Hansen," I said slowly. "Allison Hansen." As soon as I said it, I knew it sounded stupid, but it was the first name that came to me. Marge didn't even look up. "Age?" "Fifteen - and a half," I said. I answered too quickly; I should have had to think if I was pretending to not know a lot. "I think," I added, trying to sound uncertain to give credence to my story of not remembering much. Marge looked at me at that answer. "Any ... abuse of any kind? Physical, sexual, emotional?" "Not that I can remember," I answered slowly. I had to keep up this silly pretense if I didn't want to be rejected yet again. "Any issues with substance abuse?" "No," I answered firmly. "I'm sure of that one." "Okay," Marge said after another dozen questions. "Let's get your retinal scan and a thumbprint." She held up the data pad very close to my left eye, a digital camera from the data pad focused in my eye. The area around the camera glowed softly, and a moment later, Marge pulled the data pad away. "Now your thumbprint." She extended the data portion of the pad to me, with a highlighted box. I dutifully pressed my right thumb against the pad, and after a moment, the print was digitally scanned. Marge put the data pad on the desk. "I hope you understand, we have to check against known criminals and substance abusers," she said apologetically. "We can't be too careful, you know." Even as she finished speaking, the data pad beeped. I could see the words "No Matches Found," on the screen, although I suspected that I wasn't supposed to see. She looked at the screen again, and a frown flitted across her face, but then she hid her emotions. I had a bad feeling about what had caused her to frown. "We normally have a doctor check our ... ladies ... when they arrive, but he's not present at the moment, so we'll have to get that in the morning when he gets to his office. I've got an open bunk in one room with three other girls around your age," Marge said with a smile that appeared to me to be forced. "Let's get you in bed, and then tomorrow morning, we'll see about finding something more appropriate to wear." Brother Martin nodded curtly. "If you're through with me, I'll need to get back to the orphanage." "Very well. Thank you for bringing Allison," Marge said, extending her hand to Brother Martin. "It's very charitable of you to watch out for a young lady in trouble, even though that's not your main mission." I had a sudden, unpleasant thought. If I didn't give Marge the money for safekeeping, it might be stolen, and I wouldn't be able to do anything with it. If, however, I told them about the money, they might think I'd stolen it, possibly from the order. A third possibility presented itself. "Mister Martin, can you please vouch to Marge that the orphanage gave me some money from ... their excess student funds ... to help me try to get back on my feet?" I saw a scowl flit across Brother Martin's features, but then he forced a smile. "We occasionally have some funds left by students when they leave. According to the law, we can't use it directly, but we could use it for charity cases, like ... Allison," he said. He was gritting his teeth as he spoke, knowing that he was stretching the truth a bit, but I needed to have him say that. It _was_ from a former student - me. I looked at Marge, who was looking at me. "I didn't want you to think that I'd stolen the money," I added quickly. Marge smiled, nodding. "I understand. A wise thing, too. If you'd like, I can put the money in the safe so you don't have to worry about losing it." She let Brother Martin out the door, locking it behind him, and then she took my elbow and guided me away from the front door and down a hallway. "In the safe, we have individual deposit boxes available to those who stay here. You have the inner key, so it'll be safe, and since we know who has what box, even stealing the key wouldn't do anyone any good." I walked with her into a sparsely-furnished office, lit by a dimly-glowing bulb, since it was night-time. She turned her back on me and opened a large safe, then opened a box inside the safe. With a quick glance at Marge, I pulled the wad of money from my pocket and put it into the box, which she shut, and then she handed me the key. "Let me close the safe, and then I'll show you to your room." Compared to the orphanage, the bedroom was enormous. A nightlight made a feeble effort to pierce the darkness inside the room, and the night-time emergency lights from the hallway through the open door added a bit more. I could see four beds, three of which were occupied by sleeping women. Beside each bed were a night-stand and a tall cabinet. I guessed that the cabinet was a wardrobe. Since I had nothing to wear, the wardrobe was useless to me. "Your roommates are Deborah, Tanya, and Julie. I'll introduce you personally in the morning," Marge whispered. "If you need anything, you know where the front office is. Someone is always on duty there. And there's an emergency button by the light switch. You can't hit it accidentally; you have to lift a cover before you can press the button." It was as if she was reading my mind. "Thanks." "Good night, Allison," she said with a smile, pulling the hall door shut behind her. The nightlight was more than bright enough for me to see my way around the room. I carefully set my box down by the cabinet, taking care not to make any noise, and then I pulled back the blanket and sheet. For a moment, I thought of putting on pajamas, but I knew that, somehow, my own PJs had somehow vanished with my Twist, and the spare pair I had in my box wouldn't fit anyway. There was no way I was going to sleep in the nude, not like this, so I kicked off my shoes and slid between the sheets, pulling them up over my head. It had been a hell of a day. In a few hours, I lost who I was, and where I was. I'd lost my identity as Lowell Hansen, fifteen year old growing boy. I'd lost everything