The Sidereus Prophecy Part 6 free porn video

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Chapter 52 (Part 6) When I awoke, I was somewhere I had never been, and oddly enough, I woke while standing. I looked down at myself and noticed something wholly unexpected, something that caused joy to fill my heart. I was in Darren Lawrence's body again. It seemed as real as the light wind on my skin, the slightly itchy feeling I felt on my face, (a consequence of a beard not yet fully grown), and hands no longer host to nails adorned with perfectly shaped stars. I wore a pair of ripped jeans, my green hoodie and my grungy Converse trainers. I felt like myself for the first time in six months, and now I looked that way too. From the palm trees, I guessed that I was in Los Angeles, or at least California. I was pretty sure we had no palm trees in Canada. I stood in front of a massive concrete tower. It looked like an office building, but it was opulent beyond belief. The numerous gold-trimmed windows reflecting the morning sun made the building glow. The pathway toward the front door was lined with neatly trimmed shrubs and grass so green that it would have caused a golf course green keeper to seethe with envy. The front door even had an attendant. It was literally this person's sole duty to greet guests and open the door for them. I had never ventured inside a building with this level of service, but the doorman's welcoming wave, urged me to enter the lavish structure. Once inside, I felt completely out of place. Dressed as I was, I did not blend well with the decor. A three-storey high fountain with multiple levels and Renaissance art dominated the foyer. The fountain was an engineering marvel because the water shot upward, but fell, as if in slow-motion. I could actually see the individual water droplets that made up the wonder. As I looked into the pool at the base of the fountain, I could have sworn for an instant that Abigail's face stared back at me, but once the water became disturbed, the face dissolved. The front desk was composed of one solid mahogany table with a tiny blonde woman sitting behind it. The blazer she wore made me think I had entered a hotel. She smiled and said softly, "Mr. Lawrence. We are very pleased to have you here finally. Mr. Atwater will see you now." I thought it odd that the woman didn't even have a computer. I found it even stranger that she was sitting behind an antique typewriter. She had a modern hairdo, one of the poofs so popular these days, but her office equipment would have been more appropriate on the desk of an early twentieth century secretary. Next to the desk sat a machine that looked a lot like Gutenberg's original printing press. Alongside the typewriter was a leather-bound book, easily twice the size of any coffee table art book, with the words MASTER FILE written on it in gold leaf. I looked at the woman in confusion and asked, "What are you talking about? What is this place? I don't know about you, but I feel like I am burning money just standing here. You aren't going to charge me a thousand dollars for looking at the fountain are you?" She shook her head. "Absolutely not. We treat the talent very well here. Access to our facility here is just one of the perks of being signed to our agency." I blinked, looking embarrassed. "Talent? So this place, is like a talent agency? Well, I have a band. I'm sorry, I'm really not prepared for this. I don't even remember coming here. Can I schedule another appointment?" The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry Mr. Lawrence, but we've waited a long time for you to arrive. Mr. Atwater simply cannot be delayed any longer." I frowned. "But my band mates should be here. Let me call them." The prospect of being signed would hopefully convince Andrew and Steven to catch a flight to LA to meet me. However, if I was Darren Lawrence again, I doubted very much that Ethan would want to be part of the band if Abigail was out of the picture. It would be even more difficult to explain to him where Abigail had gone. I added, "They could be here tomorrow. Maybe even tonight." The woman shook her head again. She reminded me of a librarian or a schoolmarm, especially sitting behind the antique typewriter. I couldn't help but stare at the machine. It had a QWERTY keyboard, but the keys were iron wrought and each one was connected to a very thin piece of metal strip. She said, "Mr. Lawrence, I'm sorry, but I must insist. Mr. Atwater is only interested in you." I was shocked. I knew that I was a talented singer and an OK guitar player. I could write songs and touching, angry and soulful verse, but I never thought of myself as someone who could strike out on their own. She shooed me toward a gold-plated elevator, which also had an attendant. In the days of record companies taking people to court for illegally sharing music, when artists themselves who had once zealously followed the practice of tape trading at concerts were decrying their loss of revenue over music piracy, this place had a doorman and an elevator attendant. I worried that this was some type of scheme to extort money from me. Luckily, I didn't have any. The attendant didn't say a word. He just pushed PH (for Penthouse?). The pit of my stomach entered my Converse trainers as the elevator rocketed upward. I reached out to grasp the railing, and the attendant caught me. He smiled, and thankfully the ride was over in seconds. The door opened, and I was escorted to a scene that is difficult to describe. What lay before me was architecture, technology and furniture from every period of time, including the modern age. Stone pillars akin to the Parthenon supported the thirty foot ceiling. A massive two hundred inch television screen hung on the far wall, along with a multiple computer screens, which formed an impressive media centre. The walls seemed stolen from a medieval castle as thick pieces of interlocked stone created an imposing and formidable defense against catapults and trebuchets. Works from the Renaissance to modern art were alongside CD cases from well-known pop singers. Under glass next to the elevator I saw a play by Shakespeare I had never heard of- simply titled- the Sidereus Prophecy. I saw gold records for Elvis, and even images of lions tearing apart gladiators. It was like the person who inhabited this room had never ever thrown anything away from the beginning of civilization. They were the ultimate hoarder or perhaps the ultimate collector. Sitting at a very simple wooden table was a man of indeterminate age. He had flecks of grey at his temples, but absolutely no wrinkles on his face. He had a trim, professional style haircut and wore a very expensive looking suit, perfectly tailored to his slim but muscular frame. His eyes spoke of a hundred lifetimes, more than simply an old soul, he looked wise to the point of omnipotence. He walked up to me and firmly shook my hand, "Mr. Lawrence, so you've finally arrived. I am sorry for the way we brought you here, but our previous attempts to contact you regarding your contract have failed. I am Mr. Atwater." I said firmly but respectfully, "Sir, please, I know that you must be an extremely busy man, but can I ask that my band mates fly out to be part of this meeting? They are really the reason I am here. It was a combined effort. I mean, even Ethan- if he wants to. Not sure how I will explain this to him." Like his assistant, the man shook his head, "Actually, Mr. Lawrence you are solely responsible for this meeting." I frowned. "How is that even possible? My band has played only a few shows. I mean, I am flattered, but why are you interested in having me sign a contract? You know, I'm not a solo artist. And I've never heard of your agency. You never contacted me before." Mr. Atwater smiled. "We are interested in what makes you unique. In a sea of pretenders, those who say they want to be famous, you really have the drive to succeed in the industry." He continued, "You chose your house based on the fact it had a perfect music room. You left teaching because you wanted to devote more time to music. It's also why you didn't go to law school. You've driven hundreds and hundreds of kms just to jam. You've put friendships and even loved ones after music, even your own wife and daughter, numerous times. When your wife left town to pursue her career goals, you stayed in a failing band because you believed in the music. She returned, but let's not forget your friends-" he grinned. "You kicked your best friend out of your previous band because he wouldn't commit at a high enough level. Because of that, you created a rift in a twenty year friendship, the one between Andrew's wife and Am?lie. Mr. Lawrence, you wake up thinking of music, and how you can better yourself, and, like others, you have vices that take you away from your craft, but you always return, more fervent than before." I gaped, listening to Mr. Atwater recite details of my life that no one outside of my immediate friends, family or even myself would know. I said, "But that's every musician who wants to succeed. I'm really not any different. H-how do you know all those things about me?" Mr. Atwater smiled, but it was the type of smile an alligator makes before devouring its prey, knowing that as it bobs just below the surface of the water, an easy meal awaits. "Listen Darren, it doesn't matter. What if I told you that you could have what you really wanted? You've always said you wished you had the time to record, to sit in a studio and really make music your life, your job. You've said that on multiple occasions. You've also said that you want to get your music out to as many people as possible. Say millions? How about hundreds of millions? What if I could grant you all that, with a simple signature on a contract?" He continued, "This is how you are different. For as many people who say they want to be famous, to be successful, to be real musicians, there are thousands who simply don't have the drive, the confidence, the perseverance and the willpower. When you wished to be a famous musician, unlike the common people, you actually wanted it, and you are willing to do anything it takes to reach that goal. That is why we've chosen you." He produced a contract written on parchment and handed me a pen. He smiled again with predatory eyes. "Sign and in an instant, it's all yours." I stared at Mr. Atwater suspiciously. My eyes were narrowed, but as I peered into his orbs, I felt like a speck of dirt within a vast cosmos. I began to feel that if I didn't sign, I would never succeed in anything, and even if I had my body back, my life would be altered irrevocably. My friends had seen another side of me, and my wife treated me more like her unruly daughter than her husband. I thought she would leave me for Mr. Principal, and my friends and parents would view me as a freak. I closed my eyes and instantly the feelings subsided. Mr. Atwater continued smiling as he offered me the contract. "Sorry, I should have warned you about that. Feel free to read the contract thoroughly. I expect you to read it, considering your background. We have a literal eternity here, Mr. Lawrence." I looked at him and quickly turned away, fearful that the same feelings of despair would overwhelm me again. I asked, "What is this place? What are you?" The man placed the contract in my hands and said, "You will know soon enough." I pored over the details of the contract. It was written in legalese, but with my legal experience, I was able to comprehend most of it. It looked pretty standard, but unfortunately I had no real knowledge of entertainment law. It offered me a two year contract with the Sidereus Agency. There were specific conditions that had to be met, but again, it looked standard. I had to tour, but considering the money they were going to sink into me, it wasn't surprising. I had to give interviews, which really was part of the job. I couldn't find anything in it that stood out as a red flag. I wished Am?lie were here because, while I was a talented paralegal with a real affinity for the law, Am?lie had actually gone to law school. Then, just as I reached the very end of the contract the red flag flew high and was supported by a blaring high-pitched siren that threatened to destroy the ear drums of anyone who heard it. I blinked. "There's a mistake here. The name is wrong. It says Abigail Grenier." Sinister plots filled my mind, and I knew immediately that I could not put ink to the document. It could lock me as Abigail forever, perhaps even rewriting my history entirely. I wasn't certain exactly what would happen, but my gut told me that it would bury Darren Lawrence deeper than one of Alyssa's impromptu dance lessons. Mr. Atwater maintained his smile. Although I could not look into his eyes for an extended period, I saw amusement there. He was toying with me. He replied, "It's actually not. You are as much Abigail as you are Darren now, perhaps more so. We saw to that." The smile never left his face. I snarled, "So you were the ones who did this to me?! Why? You practically ruined my life!" I approached the desk angrily and adopted an aggressive pose, clenching my fists, but trying to avoid the man's eyes. I slammed my clenched fist on the table, but his expression never changed. Mr. Atwater replied matter-of-factly, "Because of your wish, Mr. Lawrence. It has evoked the Sidereus Prophecy. There are millions of wishes spoken each day, but only a tiny minority actually want their wish to come true. Some are desperate pleas for help, while others are breathless whispers before death claims them, and some are innocent, but misplaced, wanton commercialism. Very, very few wishes are sincere. You should be honoured. Few are chosen by the Prophecy, and of those that are- even fewer reach this point. When you wished to start over for the sake of music and did so with genuine sentiment, it set in motion the events that have transpired." I shouted, "I never asked for this though! I just want my life back! I want to be a normal person, go to work, come home, spend time with my Am?lie and Chloe, and do it all again and again. That's what I want. I won't sign that document!" Mr. Atwater replied in voice that told me he held all the cards, it was triumphant but soft, like a poker player revealing a royal flush with nothing but a half-smile. "You will because they all have before you. The Prophecy is as old as civilization itself. You have lasted longer than most, but only because of the circumstances." I knew that lashing out physically against such a being was foolhardy, but his admission that I was among those who resisted the Prophecy longest strengthened my resolve. I understood the importance of knowledge, and while I was still fuming, I needed to know more about what I was up against. I asked, "What is the Sidereus Prophecy?" The smile grew on Mr. Atwater's face. "Sometimes they sign, and I don't even get to explain this part. The last time was to a Ms. Spears almost twenty years ago." I made a note to ask Mr. Atwater about that. He continued, "The Sidereus Prophecy is an ancient spell. It predates organized religion, and essentially, it birthed popular culture. Its true origins are unknown, and while I have been here almost a thousand years, even I don't know. The one I replaced didn't tell me. I do, however, know its purpose. "The logic is as follows. For humanity to succeed it must toil, but it cannot toil endlessly without distraction. The belief is that if humans work mindlessly they become drones or they return to their animalistic natures. Distractions, such as the entertainment brought by popular culture, ritualize humanity; they forms bonds and links within societies. They actually humanize." I raised a brow. "It sounds more like some ancient magnate's attempt to placate the lower classes with low brow entertainment to deter them from rising up. Distract them with raunchy jokes and titillating flesh and they'll forget how poor and hungry they are." Mr. Atwater nodded. "That is one of the interpretations for the reasoning behind the introduction of the Prophecy, Mr. Lawrence. I am giving you the 'approved' version. It's funny Shakespeare said the same thing as you. Now, please let me continue." I shrugged my shoulders, not satisfied with the explanation, but eager to learn more to determine if any information could be used as weapons against the Prophecy. I blinked. "Wait a second, Shakespeare was a victim of the Prophecy? William Shakespeare? His plays are timeless. His prose is some of the greatest in the English language. Certainly, they are ingrained in our culture, but they aren't popular any more. I know. I was an English teacher." Mr. Atwater smirked. "Oh, but there was a time when Shakespeare's plays were frowned upon by the cultural elite that now flock to see them at various summer festivals and visit Stratford upon Avon. You should know that most of his plays were written with the common people in mind. Many of his jokes were crude. The plays were filled with romance, death and destruction, intrigue, but the plots were rarely complex. Don't forget that everyone spoke Elizabethan or Early Modern English. His plays were very much part of the popular culture." He added, "Shakespeare was the first real 'pop star' created by the Prophecy. There were others before him, but because of the lack of any form of mass communication, they are footnotes within the MASTER FILE. Once the telegraph, film, radio and finally television were invented, the Prophecy took on another form. One where it could influence not only a city, or a country, but the entire world. Television, helped by the internet, brought those chosen by the Prophecy to the masses in the form of pop stars." I nodded. "OK, so why not have me and others become politicians or prophets? You mentioned a Ms. Spears. I am going to assume that is Britney Spears. Why have her become a brainless pop icon, instead of an influential world or religious leader? What about a theorist who changes the way we think?" Mr. Atwater replied, "We made that mistake with Hitler, and we won't make it again. The reason why the Sidereus Prophecy creates pop stars now is because they are innocuous. Their fame eventually fades, and because of what they were- they would never be taken seriously in a political or religious role. Could you imagine Britney Spears as the leader of the free world? No, of course not." Mr. Atwater continued, "Part of the reason why the Prophecy is so successful in carrying out its purpose is because it gives the people exactly what they want. And for you, Mr. Lawrence, this world wants another pop princess. Another teen idol for girls to aspire to be, for boys to desire, and for the masses to fawn over. Your face, or rather Abigail's face, will be plastered on every magazine cover, every billboard and music station throughout the world. You will become a phenomenon." I shouted, "And what if I don't want to be any that!? I think the Sidereus Prophecy is just a way to addle the minds of the common people so they won't riot, ruining what is the status quo. Perhaps it staves off anarchy, but if it continues it will also curb the growth of our minds. If there are only a few who can avoid the allure of popular culture, then we will forever be a race of the elite and the cowed." I pointed to an image of gladiators battling in a Roman coliseum, "This is the perfect example. While Rome bankrupted itself not only monetarily but also morally, the people were fed entertainment to distract them from the eventual decline of their Empire. When the barbarians came to the gates, the people were so caught up in their own world, they couldn't feel the steel at their throats. It is the same today. The distractions brought on by popular culture regarding celebrity excess prevent the common people from realizing that their jobs are shit, that they will never climb the ladder, and that the people who rule them don't care one iota about them. All it does is extend the few rule the many mentality." Mr. Atwater smiled, "That may be, but you still have little in the way of choice. The more you fight this, the harder it will be. The magic guiding the Prophecy has attached itself to you, Mr. Lawrence, and while it is imperfect, it is still powerful. The longer you battle against it, the less subtle the magic becomes. You risk erasing yourself entirely. It will continue to put you in situations where you have the potential to become the icon the world wants." I shook my head. "Let me guess, Alexandre's father, the music producer. He was supposed to discover me." The man nodded. "You are very intelligent, Mr. Lawrence. I can see this from your analysis of the Prophecy. I do hope you submit soon, as it didn't help Ms. Spears, who as your father would say, is dumb as a bag of hammers, or Elvis, who was a theoretical physicist before becoming a hip- shaking lip-curling music icon. You are correct of course. You were supposed to meet Alexandre's father. He was going to produce your record and make you an international sensation. That would have fulfilled the Prophecy. However, we could not foretell how...unpleasant his son would become. There were many before you, and one girl who was close, but none had your drive. Before you made that wish ..." I interrupted, "V?ronique. It was supposed to be V?ronique before I made the wish." Mr. Atwater replied, "No, V?ronique lacks the passion. It was never going to be her or any of the eleven girls who preceded you. This is unfortunately one of the side effects of the imperfect magic. The Prophecy latches onto not only the chosen, but it also creates a scenario for the Prophecy to be fulfilled, and in your instance, it attached itself not only to Alexandre's father, but also Alexandre himself. And while we are usually certain who will be chosen next, as a failsafe, the girls, all of whom were talented musicians, were allowed to 'audition' per se. Four years and not one of them impressed Alexandre's father enough to warrant a contract." I asked, "Why did the girls...and even me? Why did we throw ourselves at Alexandre?" He replied, "Because doing so meant that he would introduce you and the other girls to his father, and with it, the potential fulfilment of the Prophecy. Usually, we prefer more traditional methods to begin a pop star's rise. It makes it easier when our marketing department sells their stories, but we are going to have to fudge yours significantly." I spit poison at Mr. Atwater, even staring in his eyes for almost three seconds before the depression weighed so heavily that I had to break my glance. "Oh really? So, teen girls wouldn't want to hear about how their idol was almost raped in a car? And why the hell didn't I have control throughout it? It would have been a lot easier to fight him off." Mr. Atwater replied, "The reason you lost control is because given the circumstances and your absolute hatred of Alexandre's male archetype, you would never have agreed to meet his father. We forced you to make a date with him, knowing that it was the catalyst to fulfilling the Prophecy. Yes, it was a desperate measure, but we knew you would be less than receptive, so we moved things along." He cleared his throat, "What happened to you, however, was -uh- regrettable." He said the last words with a hint of emotion. I shook my head. "Wait a second, the whole episode with Alexandre- you removed my control- my will power, and the very essence of who I am. Why not just do that now? I don't understand why you don't just force me to become Abigail in both mind and body. You clearly have the ability as is clear by how much I wanted to bear Alexandre's muscle-bound children." Mr. Atwater merely smiled. I despised the look as I hoped my question would perhaps yield information about the Prophecy I could use- a weakness or a potential loophole. His stoic grin caused me to seethe internally. "Oh, Mr. Lawrence, I enjoy your humour. No, a teenage pregnancy would be scandalous with parent groups- and your career would be dead before it even began. Returning to your question, however, it is simple- the Prophecy could circumvent your will, but it would be an unfortunate double-edged sword. "You see, the Prophecy requires those with an unparalleled drive to succeed. Turning you into a mindless tart, a thrall to the whims of the Prophecy would allow the contract to be signed, but it would make the Prophecy impossible to fulfill. Enslaving you to the same magic that made you desire Alexandre would rob you of your drive, your ambition. The Prophecy helps the chosen, but the chosen fulfills the Prophecy. Think of it like a symbiotic relationship. The Prophecy has given you the body required to succeed, the voice, but you will bring the talent, and your passion and determination. This would be snuffed out if you became a drone, Mr. Lawrence." I asked, feeling more confident as Mr. Atwater divulged more of the secrets of the Prophecy. Perhaps I could eke something useful from him. "So did the Prophecy do something to Alexandre to make him that way?" He replied, "Alexandre did not start that way, as he told you. We knew that he would bring the girls to meet his father initially because he wanted to please both the girls and his father. But as he grew older, he realized that the girls really were using him. But that is how they were programmed. They had to meet the father to potentially fulfil the Prophecy. However, Alexandre eventually had the girls debasing themselves, only bringing them if they met his approval. With the last three, including yourself, we always pulled the plug before the girls were forced into something completely non-consensual." I frowned. "Yeah thanks. I really appreciate only being half raped. You are a real humanitarian. Why did you have me dress like a prostitute? Surely, his father wouldn't approve of him bringing home a girl who looked like that." Mr. Atwater ignored my comment and added, "Eventually, Alexandre became more of an obstacle than simply a stepping stone to his father. As he grew more bitter and despondent, he also became twisted. He wanted to use the girls as much as they were using him. We had you dress that way because we had hoped it would appease the boy. Dressed that way you were his dream girl and maybe that would open the path to his father." He continued, "It is also why we did not allow you to cut your hair or your nails. You never would have caught his attention looking the way you wanted to look, even in your school uniform." I had a Eureka moment and quickly asked, "St. Jo's. The letter. You sent the school registration letter didn't you?" Mr. Atwater smiled. "Since you were so set on emancipating yourself, we had to do something. If you had succeeded, we calculated that there was only a 0.03% chance you would ever meet Alexandre. And you would never seek out his father, a famous pop music producer. So, we had to get you to St. Jo's, a place that Alexandre frequented ten months out of the year. You actually did an admirable job in avoiding him the first few weeks. Your friends, of course, helped." I narrowed my eyes. "You mean Alyssa isn't a plant by you? One of your agents trying to turn me into some huge girly girl so I would accept my eventual role more easily. Or another catalyst for the Prophecy? She was trying to get me to enter a singing competition. I could be discovered there, couldn't I?" He grinned, "Absolutely not. Ms. Moore is wonderful serendipity for us. She adores Abigail, and she has no bad intentions for you. After all, she doesn't even know who Darren Lawrence is. Perhaps she could help you accept your role given her love of pop music." I raised a brow, still unconvinced. "Speaking of which, are all pop stars created like this? Let me guess, Katy Perry was a truck driver named Saul, who wanted to be a country music star." Mr. Atwater shook his head. "No. The Katy Perry that Alyssa is so enamoured with is not part of the Sidereus Prophecy. Those are the anomalies. The Prophecy is only evoked when pop culture loses its sway with the general populace. When other issues take precedence, the Prophecy fabricates a scenario for the star's discovery and the search begins for the next true sensation. Ms. Spears was the last." My eyebrows practically raised to the ceiling. "I would be as big as Britney Spears was?" Something in me was lured by the thought of such adulation. Stepping out on stage in front of not tens, but tens of thousands, every night. Maybe I could fulfil the Prophecy, but I would do it my way. Mr. Atwater was pleased. "You will as big as her and potentially bigger. The world will know you. Pop music that can truly master the conscience of the masses has been on the decline. Rock and metal music, and even some pop music that causes the masses to think, to plan and to question has been born again. Not since the mid-1990s, when rock was king, has there been such a resurgence of angry and potentially unbalancing music. This transcends into other media as well. Then films are made that question lifestyles, governments. You are the balance to this. This other music will exist, but once you arrive, it will be relegated to the fringe once again." I sneered, "You aren't exactly giving me a lot of incentive to agree. That is exactly what I was saying, and it was what you seemingly chose to ignore." He replied, "Mr. Lawrence, I gave you the approved version of the Prophecy's purpose. I believe, as you do, that it does create a world of the elite and common people, but this is a necessary evil. Would you rather have anarchy or a balanced, yet imperfect, civilization?" I said brashly, "Even if I am eventually forced to sign, I won't agree to any of this. I will lay my own path. I will write songs and lyrics that force those in my audience to question, and to think for themselves." Mr. Atwater shook his head amusedly. "You won't, because if you do, you will be found in breach of contract, and you will be trapped that way. You will have to grow up again as Abigail Grenier. I guess you didn't read the Annex A: Clause 4.5 Paragraph 37. Here, I know it off by heart." Mr. Atwater read aloud, "Pursuant to the fulfilment of the Sidereus Prophecy and all items contained therein, the chosen can, upon signature of an Affidavit to the fact, choose to return to his/her life. Such a return is contingent on the Prophecy being wholly fulfilled, subject to Clause 47 Paragraph 6 Subparagraph A. Which reads, if at any point during the two year period the chosen fails to meet a condition of this contract, she/he will be found in breach of the aforementioned contract. If the breach is determined to be in bad faith, the chosen will be eternally trapped within the body ascribed by the Prophecy. Breaches of contract in bad faith are also subject to additional discipline which is the prerogative of the associate." He smiled, "That's me." I raised a brow. "Wait a second, Britney Spears is still a pop star. Sort of. She's pretty washed up, but she is still making music." Mr. Atwater replied, "She is. She chose to remain in that body after her contract expired. Fame is like a potent drug, Mr. Lawrence. Once it is in your system, you will crawl on your knees, begging for it, every night. The adulation you receive will sustain you, until the next night and the next." I shook my head. "Again, you aren't making a great case for signing anything, Mr. Atwater. Why would I want to be anything like Britney? She went crazy. She shaved off all of her hair, lost custody of her children. I don't want any part of that." Mr. Atwater said, "That was part of her punishment. Read Clause 4.8 Paragraph 89 Subparagraph E. She threatened to tell others about the Sidereus Prophecy. You can tell no one, not even your wife." I said matter-of-factly, "Yes, but I haven't signed your contract. So, what is stopping me from telling the world?" Mr. Atwater actually laughed openly. "It's been too long since I have heard such brash words. There is nothing stopping you from telling the world about what you have seen here while not under contract, but who would believe you exactly? You will tell them that there is some cosmic power that turns men into pop stars. That it is done so that the masses will be broken by songs such as "Baby Hit Me One More Time? You'll spend the rest of your adolescence in a rubber room heavily sedated. You will beg to sign the contract within a few weeks." I shook my head. "That makes no sense. I am barred from telling anyone about the Prophecy, but even if I did, no one would believe me. It's a paradox." Mr. Atwater said, "It's simple. There is a slight, minuscule possibility that you would tell someone who was actually affected by the magic, and they would believe you. And if that person was influential, it would create many problems. So, you are technically correct that if you are not under contract, you can tell others, but I don't know how much good it would do you." The smile left Mr. Atwater's face for the first time. I actually felt my hand shaking involuntarily. He said coldly, "Plus, if you create problems, I will need to step in and rectify those problems, and you will dislike my methods. That rubber room I discussed will seem like a stay at a five-star hotel. I will see to it that the Prophecy is fulfilled." I shuddered, and the smile crept back onto his face. He said amiably, but he might as well have spit in my face. "But you'll be a good little girl, won't you Mr. Lawrence?" I said nothing and simply sneered at him. I was annoyed that my left hand wouldn't stop shaking. He said firmly but in a friendly manner, "Please sign, and we can put all this unpleasantness behind us." I asked, "So let me understand this correctly, if I sign, I become Abigail Grenier, international pop sensation for two years. And if I follow all of your conditions, then I can be Darren Lawrence again when my contract expires." He nodded his head. I took the pen from him and Mr. Atwater's smile grew to a toothy, self- satisfied grin, until I wrote FUCK YOU on the first page of the document in massive bold letters. His face soured, and he ran his finger over my graffiti and instantly it was gone. I said, "I'll find a way to break the chain, Atwater. I'll try find a spell. I am certain Mama Khalia is going to send me something. I'll tell her all about this, and we'll stop the Prophecy." He laughed again, but there was no humour to it. It was cold and unnerving, like a death rattle in the chest of a man dying from pneumonia, but also grating like the whining of a petulant child. It was disconcerting to say the least. He snapped his fingers, and instantly, I was no longer looking at him eye to eye. I was looking up at him. I looked down and my nails were once more adorned with the perfectly shaped little stars. Hair covered my eyes. I was Abigail again. A hand gripped my throat and I was pulled into the air. I gurgled and fought for breath, kicking my legs and flailing my arms. Mr. Atwater maintained his smile even as he held me in a stranglehold staring into my face, "This is one of the reasons why Ms. Spears lost her mind eventually. She remembered what I did to her before she signed. As stupid as she became, she always remembered this. I made sure of it. You don't want to be damaged goods like her, do you?" He threw me to the ground, and I choked as air suddenly filled my lungs again. My body felt strange. I looked down, and I noticed my hands dematerializing and rematerializing. My whole body was in a state of flux, going from Darren to Abigail and back again, but, in my head, it felt like someone was trying to push my brain out through my nose and ears. Mr. Atwater said, "How would you like to forget everything you learned in university? No, that would be like a full-frontal lobotomy. Maybe just one course? Poof. Everything gone in an instant. Just so you know how serious I am. I'll even let you pick the course." He added, "Oh and that uncomfortable feeling you are experiencing, it's literally your two selves fighting for dominance. I masked it before, but you've upset me. Even now, look at how your male self fades and Abigail gains prominence. It's only a matter of time. You may not have fallen for Alexandre, but your friends could very well doom you as well. You realize you are in love with that boy, Ethan. Right?" He said, "Time's up. OK, second year Russian history from Ivan the Terrible to the Bolsheviks. Gone." I shook my head defiantly. "It's just a crush. It'll pass. I-..." A blank expression appeared on my face. I tried to drum up knowledge of the class, but I just couldn't remember taking it. I thought the professor was balding. He sort of looked like Mr. Peabody from the Astro Boy cartoon I had watched as a kid, but now- it was a complete blank. He said, "As for Mama Khalia, she will send you a spell, but you won't have the balls to use it." He laughed again. It sounded like rusty knives being raked across bone. I blinked. "W-what do you mean?" I was unsteady, particularly because I was having difficulty maintaining Darren's form. The instant I regained my masculinity, I was back as Abigail, and each time, it became more a challenge to bring him back. Mr. Atwater explained, "It requires a second, and while that individual could be your saviour, they could also simply be a sacrifice. Even if you succeed, it cannot save you from the Prophecy. The spell that Mama Khalia found, it may return you to male form, but while you sleep, you are helpless. We will simply invade your dreams again, and you will wake up and be Abigail again. You cannot escape this, Mr. Lawrence. Sign now, before I truly grow angry." The smile had fallen off his face again. His lip curled into a tiny sneer. I narrowed my eyes. "I have no reason to believe you. You deceive me so that I will surrender to you. I won't. I will find another way. There's always another way. I'll find a loophole in your Prophecy. I'll tell people. I will show the magic! I'll cut my hair on YouTube and my nails. I'll show the world that magic is real!" Mr. Atwater shook his head, smiling amusedly again. "And you don't think that people might question it? That they might think that you were simply trying to deceive them? It is easy enough to fake that using video editing, Mr. Lawrence. Already your intelligence is failing you, and your thoughts- they lack the logical consistency they once had. You are succumbing to your adolescence." He continued, "Soon enough, you and Alyssa will be impossible to tell apart. Each day that passes where you refuse to sign you will lose more of yourself." I shouted and pointed an accusatory finger. "You don't think that I am going to lose myself playing the part of a pop princess puppet? So, what are you going to do, force me to like everything that Alyssa likes, control me like you did with Alexandre and compel me to throw myself at Ethan?" Mr. Atwater shook his head. "I don't have to do a thing. At this point, I can just let nature run its course. Alyssa has claimed you as a best friend, and you've infused her with the confidence that V?ronique stole, which may be your ruin, at least as far as your masculinity is concerned. As for Ethan, even now, you are thinking about the boy, aren't you?" I sighed gently. I looked down at myself and as Ethan's image appeared in my mind, it became impossible to return to my masculine form. It was as if the boy's shaggy hair and boyish looks were branded on my brain matter. I shook my head repeatedly, but it did nothing to detach the image. My captor said, "I'll make you a deal. When you sign, you can take him along with you. Imagine what the two of you will do cooped up on a tour bus day in and day out. I doubt you'll only play video games." He grinned lasciviously. "You'd like that wouldn't you? I know what you do at night." I shouted, my voice raising an octave, sounding childlike, "I only did that one time! And I stopped." Mr. Atwater said, "I meant that you think about him before you go to sleep, dirty girl. If you'd like, you could even bring Alyssa along. It's not like she's going to pass high school without your help." I shook my head, but it was hard to disagree with my tormentor. I thought about Ethan more than Am?lie- more than my own daughter. Mr. Atwater made two changes to the contract, but when he handed me the pen, I was so disgusted by his presence, by what he had taken from me and still intended to take, that I spit in his face. He removed a handkerchief from his sleeve and shook his head. He sneered, "Fine, but you'll be back. You'll plead for me to let you sign it the next time you are here. We'll see if I am feeling as generous as I am now." I smirked. "What and my little dog too? Didn't you forget to say you would have gotten away with your master plan if it wasn't for some meddling kids? I mean..." I was feeling brash in Abigail's body. I knew that I was playing with fire, but the fact that Mr. Atwater told me that Mama Khalia was sending another spell filled me with hope. As for the sacrifice, I was certain he was trying to scare me. I was stopped there. I continued to speak, but I was in a place with no sound or light. A few seconds passed, and I heard the dull beeping of a heart monitor. I opened my eyes to see Am?lie looking worn, her eyes blood shot and her lip trembling. My room lacked any of the pink in my bedroom. It was a sterile white. She looked down at me with fear, a little revulsion and a deep sadness. Maybe I should have signed the contract. Chapter 53 I was in a hospital bed, and back in Abigail's body. My head throbbed, and I could feel bandages on my legs and arms. Am?lie looked down at me with sympathy, and she instantly reached out and grasped my hand, her previous expression a distant memory. Her whisper was harsh, "Darren, don't you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were dead." As angry as she was, there was clear love in her eyes still. She cared deeply for me and through the spite, disgust and betrayal, I could see it. Before I could respond, she continued, "What the hell is going on, Darren? Have you lost your mind? Did you really leave the house to meet a boy? Alyssa told me everything, but I c-can't believe it. I mean I knew you were, you know, interested, but I just didn't think you were so far gone." She shook her head repeatedly as if the desperate action could somehow erase her memory. "Your underwear was torn. Did you- let him?" I knew she was searching for the words, she had them, but she couldn't ask her husband if he had sex with a boy. I shook my head fervently, but it increased the throbbing in my skull, so I stopped abruptly. "I was under a spell. I know everything now, Am?lie, and I know how we can reverse it." I heard voices in the corridor. My parents. My father was having a passionate discussion about the state of education with my principal. I turned and looked at Am?lie viciously. "What the hell is he doing here?" Am?lie wilted momentarily under my severe gaze, but she regained her composure quickly. She replied evenly, "I called him. I thought he might know where you were. I went with Alyssa to Flanagans, but you had already left. I called him after that, asking him if he knew where else that boy might take you. We drove all over town looking for you. He insisted on coming to the hospital to make sure you were alright. Alyssa and her mom are waiting for you too. You know, Darren, for all the walls you put up, you sure have a lot of people who care about you." Ethan wasn't out there? I sneered, "The only thing St. Valentin cares about is replacing me. He's only here because you are vulnerable." Am?lie closed her eyes momentarily and then said calmly, "Tell me- tell me about how you think we can reverse this. Because I'm looking at you, Darren, and every day I see less of you in her. It's like that drop of water between us at the beginning of this, it's turning into an ocean. I can't reach you anymore. You don't listen to me. You- missed curfew t-to fool around in a car. The doctor said that you were drinking too. You had a lot of alcohol in your system. Are you doing this to spite me because of Martin? Because of what's happened to you? These aren't decisions Darren Lawrence would ever make." I nodded, Am?lie's words striking my pride and rage like well-placed surface to air missiles hitting their target. "I told you, I was under a spell. This whole thing is because of this massive conspiracy to control the world's population through popular culture. It's called the Sidereus Prophecy, and I've been chosen to become this brainwashing pop star. I know it sounds like the worst excuse in the world, but it's true. Please just let me explain." Am?lie stared at me, her husband, with incredulity and sadness. She shook her head. "Look- Darren, I know you like boys. I've accepted this. You don't need to make up this ridiculous story about a cure or this even more fantastical and frankly, insulting excuse. You made a mistake, and you got lucky, extremely lucky. I know you've been through a lot tonight, but please, just tell me the truth. Mrs. Warner is out there. She called the house and asked to speak to you, I said you were at Alyssa's, and I now I look like a liar- that I am covering for you." She continued, "You need to just come clean to me. Don't make up any excuses for it. Because if you don't- I'm really worried what's going to happen to you. She already thinks I am a terrible guardian, and now- I've let you out of the house, you got drunk and were nearly raped, and you were assaulted and drugged. I think everything is just a dream you had, Darren. It was probably the alcohol and the drugs. This Prophecy, forget it. We need to be grounded in reality here. I think I'm in real danger of losing you." I shook my head. "No, listen, it's going to be alright. Mama Khalia, she's sending another spell. You can be my second, Am?lie." Am?lie looked frustrated. She hung her head and wrung her hands, something I had never seen her do before. "How do you know that? The woman doesn't even have a phone. You said you only wrote to her a few weeks ago." I replied gently, "From my dream, I know it. Listen please, everything that's happened to me, it's all for a reason. You know that school registration letter? Well how did the school know I even existed? I don't have a birth certificate, school records or anything. Well the Sidereus Agency, they sent the letter so that I would have to go to St. Jo's. They needed me to go there so I would meet this guy, Alexandre. Real douche bag creep. Well his father is a record producer, and he was supposed to have discovered me and offered me a contract. They made me like him and basically throw myself at him so I could meet his dad and fulfil the Prophecy. That's why I let Alexandre do those things to me, I wasn't in control of my body." Am?lie sighed. "Martin thinks it was because of your hearing. When the Crown was gathering evidence, they went to all the area high schools and because you were in their district, St. Jo's sent you- well me the registration letter. It's really very simple, but we need to hurry here, you need to tell me the truth before Warner gets her claws into you." She continued, "Girls your age, they make mistakes with guys, especially older guys. They don't see their flaws, and factor in the alcohol, well it was just a lot of wrong choices. That's what we need to tell Warner. You can't tell anyone the other story. Maybe we can revisit it when you aren't on painkillers. We need to get our story straight here. She wanted to speak with you as soon as you woke up." Rage filled me. I felt it from my toes into my eyeballs as they boiled in my skull. "Maybe!? Maybe?! How else do you explain what happened to me? How, Am?lie? So you believe this (I motioned at my body) happened to me, but not what I am telling you. It was real, and I need your support here, if you won't give it to me, then get the hell out. Tell my parents to come in here. Stop treating me like a goddamn kid!" Am?lie said harshly, "Shhh! You'll bring Warner in here. Look, I'm not saying I don't believe you Darren, just that for the social worker, you need something concrete. You need to just say that you were stupid, you liked this guy a lot, he had a really nice car, and you wanted to impress him, so you got your friend to help you get dressed and met him in a bar. You got drunk, another mistake you will fess up to. In the meantime, you need to tell her that I had absolutely no part in this. That this was entirely planned by you and your friend. And have you seen yourself, Darren? Your legs and arms are all bandaged. Warner threatened me with a court order for your removal. W-we are hanging on by a thread here." I felt like Am?lie was simply humouring me to convince me to go along with her story. I really didn't feel like Am?lie believed me at all, but it was so far-fetched, even beyond a grown man becoming a teenage girl. It seemed that Mr. Atwater was right, I could tell anyone, but would they believe me? My own wife was looking at me like the painkillers were putting fanciful thoughts in my head. Am?lie asked, "So, will you stick to that story?" I shrugged but nodded nonetheless. A doctor entered a few moments later. He took my vitals and then Mrs. Warner was allowed to enter. She rushed to my bedside and cast a withering glare at Am?lie, "Ms. Grenier, you were supposed to call me in the moment Abigail woke up. This will not put you in a favourable light in the report, Ms. Grenier. Have you contacted the girl's parents?" Am?lie nodded her head, "Yes, they are on their way, but they won't be here for another few hours." Mrs. Warner nodded and said brusquely, "Out you go then. I will let you know when you can return." Mrs. Warner approached my bedside. She looked at me with great sympathy, her mouth drooped in a deep frown. "You poor girl. How are you feeling, Abigail?" I replied, "Tired. My head hurts a lot, but I can't feel much else." She nodded. "I spoke to your friend, Alyssa. She's very worried about you. So tell me about your plans to meet this boy. Who had the idea?" I replied, "It was mine." Mrs. Warner furrowed her brow and wrote in her notebook, "From what Alyssa said, you left the house and your sister was still home. Did she see how you were dressed?" I shook my head. "I don't think so." She asked, "When you go out, does your sister usually ask you where you are going?" I nodded. "Always." Mrs. Warner raised a brow. "But this time, she didn't? Why didn't she ask you?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Did you ask her?" My last words had a hint of sass to them. Mrs. Warner shook her head. "This is very serious, young lady. And, you need to treat it that way. I can tell you that if you were my daughter, I would never allow you to leave the house as you did." I was in a hospital gown, but my micro-mini skirt and halter top lay on a small bedside table, along with my ripped panties. Mrs. Warner said, "Your friend, Alyssa, she told me that your sister was very busy with your niece. As you were sneaking out with her, you even said goodbye, but your sister didn't seem to notice how you were dressed, and if she did, she ignored it." I shrugged. "I really don't know. I admit that I did sneak out, and I told Am?lie that I was going to Alyssa's. At nine, I texted her to tell her that I was sleeping over at Alyssa's. I asked Alyssa to lie for me, pretend I was at her place. Look, it was a really stupid mistake. I just really liked this guy, and I knew that he would think I was really lame if I asked him to take me home at nine. My sister didn't know about any of this. If you look on my phone, as soon as she found out I wasn't at home, she called my phone and texted me asking where I was." I added, "She even called my principal because she thought he might know where the kids hang out, you know?" Mrs. Warner nodded slowly. "Yes, I can understand that. I would be beside myself with worry if my daughter did that. Those are all the questions I have for you, Abigail. I hope you start feeling better soon, and that you learn from your mistake." I asked with wide eyes, concern etched on my features. "Are you going to take me away from my sister, Mrs. Warner?" She replied gently but firmly, "It's not my decision to make, Abigail. I'll take my report to my supervisor and he, along with a board of social workers, will discuss your case. Then they'll decide what's best for you." She walked out of the room, and Am?lie re-entered. I relayed my conversation with Mrs. Warner, and Am?lie frowned. She said, "From what I can tell, this profile she is creating, it paints you as an unruly child, and me as an incompetent guardian. Your friend Alyssa, she's nice, but she told Warner that I was probably too busy trying to stop Chloe's tantrums and that's why you and her were able to leave without me really noticing. It's not good, Darren. You need to be an angel in school until this profile is done. No more playing rebel." My parents came in, my mother hugging me like I had a terminal disease and would die tomorrow. I didn't tell my parents about my dream. Not after the reception I received from Am?lie. I would wait until my head was clearer, then my words would not be judged by the drugs flowing into me through the IV. A few minutes later Alyssa came in, and she also hugged me tightly. I was actually happy to see her, but I was disappointed that Ethan hadn't come. I figured he was still mad at me for breaking our 'date'. Alyssa said, "Oh my god, Abby, are you OK? I'm sorry I had to tell your sister where you were. I just didn't trust Alexandre. Not after what happened with V?ronique." I nodded and smiled gently. "Um- it's OK Alyssa. I'm really glad you did. I wasn't myself. And listen, I'm really sorry too. I treated you badly. I'll never do that again. I'm done with Alexandre anyway." Alyssa leaned in and hugged me tightly again. "Really? That's great! I guess I just let you treat me that way because it's how V?ronique did it. Fell into um..." I smirked. "Old habits? Yeah, well I won't do that to you again." My expression grew more serious, I looked at Alyssa with anticipation, "What about Ethan? I looked at my phone, and he's pretty mad. I texted to say sorry but he didn't answer back." Alyssa nodded slowly. "Yeah, well you know, he's the one who called the police? I was texting him back and forth. Um, I kinda told him that you had gone out with Alexandre. He didn't text me back for a few minutes, and then he asked me where you guys went. I guess he rode his bike to Flanagans. He said that he saw Alexandre throw you in the back of his car and then drive off. Saw you pull into the marina. I told him to leave, you know give you some privacy. But he wouldn't. He stayed. Um- he might have saved your life. When those bikers were trying to break into the car, he called the police." I sighed heavily. "He did- he did save it. I don't want to tell you what those bikers had planned for me." Alyssa nodded. "Yeah, he probably did. The police caught the bikers though, and they stopped to question Alexandre. He was taken to the police station I think. Ethan said that he pulled this gross rag off your face and you were bleeding and had glass all over. He was trying to wake you up. He might be at the police station too. Not sure. He hasn't answered any of my texts for a few hours." Alyssa smiled. "It's really romantic, like he's a real hero. I know he likes you. He'll come around, Abby." I stayed quiet, but the knowledge of Ethan's heroism threatened to turn my crush into legitimate lasting feelings. This boy cared so much for me, it was hard to ignore. I really wanted him there. Maybe Mr. Atwater was right. Nature wasn't only running its course, it was crushing me like a monster truck over a line of soon-to-be demolished wrecks. Alyssa asked, "Can you believe that Principal St-Valentin is here? He was in the car when we were looking for you. By the time we got to the marina, the ambulance was already there. He's actually a really chill guy. He seemed really worried about you." I shrugged. "I just think he's interested in my sister. Um, listen- did he, did he do anything to make you think that he likes Am?lie?" Alyssa frowned. "Well not really. I mean they weren't holding hands or anything, but they looked at each other lots. I don't know if it was because they were worried about you or what. I know you want Darren and sister to stay together. It must be hard with him in Vancouver?" I had previously told Alyssa about why 'Darren' didn't live with Am?lie. Alyssa's frown deepened. "I know that's not what you want to hear. I know how much it can suck. You seem really close to Darren and your sister of course. I want my parents to get back together. Maybe you should tell him what's happening. Like then he'll come back home because he's realizing what he's losing. Sometimes I picture my dad doing that. You know, coming back and giving my mom flowers, and they are back together. My brother says I am being stupid." I shook my head. "You aren't being stupid Alyssa. I think it's a nice thought. It gives you hope. There's always a chance they could get back together." Alyssa's face brightened. "Yeah? I should tell my mom how I feel. Maybe then she'll talk to my dad. I haven't really actually talked to her about it since it happened. I was too mad." Alyssa left a few minutes later. I took my phone and texted Ethan: Me: Hey, you still good for band tomorrow? Getting excited about the show? Nothing. It was seven in the morning. I texted him again a few minutes later: Me: I'm really sorry I didn't show up. I made a really stupid mistake with Alexandre. So I'll see you tomorrow at band? Once again nothing, fifteen minutes later, the nurse came into my room and replaced my IV, a few minutes later, I was sleeping. *** I was released from the hospital late Saturday afternoon. I slept from the early morning to noon, and then again until about 4:30 PM. My parents and Am?lie had stayed. I learned that my sister was staying with Chloe. I couldn't believe how long I slept, but then the potent chemical that the Rock Machine combined with the alcohol in my system had caused a near comatose state. The after effects? The worst hangover of my life, and even with the painkillers, my head still throbbed. Thankfully, the ill effects had left, so the doctor felt comfortable releasing me. The shards of glass that punctured my skin left only small cuts along my arms and legs. The doctor explained that automotive glass, when shattered, breaks into tiny pieces to reduce the risk of injury. He said that I would likely still be picking little flecks of glass out of my skin for the next few days. With the show next week, I knew that we had to practice, so I texted Andrew and Steven on the way home from the hospital. I had received worried texts from them. Am?lie had told them I was missing. Andrew called me after dinner. I had call display, so I knew it was him. I said, "Hey, so you good for tomorrow?" Andrew paused and then said, "I think it's probably a good idea that we take a break this weekend. We'll practice on Wednesday like we planned. You've been through a lot." I sighed. "How much did Am?lie tell you?" Andrew said, "Just that you were missing. They found you hurt." I nodded. "Yeah, well I'm OK now. We really need to practice. I want us to be seamless for the show." Andrew replied, "Alright, if you really think you are up for it. I'll see you tomorrow." Sunday morning, I slept in until noon, my body still exhausted. Am?lie woke me up with a frown on her face, "Darren, when were you planning on doing your homework? You know parent teacher interviews are this week too right? I don't want any of your teachers telling me you are getting lazy with your school work. With Warner watching us so closely, you have to be perfectly behaved, and you need to do your homework. Don't give her anymore ammunition." My body felt heavy and my limbs wooden. I turned over again and groaned, "Uhh...after band. Just lemme sleep- fifteen more minutes..." I heard Am?lie's exasperated sigh. She replied, "Isn't it supposed to start at one? It's after noon. I really think you should rest today. You aren't a hundred percent. I'll call the guys, you just rest, OK?" I shot up in bed. "No way, listen- we need to practice. The show has to be perfect." Am?lie frowned. "You put way too much pressure on yourself. All you can do is prepare and play the songs. Even the professionals, they don't expect perfection. Remember when we saw Metallica? The drummer, he lost time in "Battery". It happens to the best." I sighed and peered at my phone. Ethan still hadn't called or texted back. We couldn't have band without him either. From Friday night's escapades, the alcohol and the chemicals, I was still exhausted, but the fact that Ethan hadn't contacted me drained me further. Am?lie wore a concerned expression, her mouth tight and her brows gently furrowed. "Are you OK, Darren? Did you want to talk?" I said, "It's too embarrassing." I hid under my covers and lay there, hoping that my wife would go away. I couldn't tell Am?lie that I was actually pining for Ethan, and now that he was ignoring me, I wanted him even more. I was developing feelings for Ethan that went beyond exchanging awkward glances, feeling my heart flutter at the sight of him or wanting him to hold my hand. I was beginning to see him not only as a crush, but as a whole person, and I liked that person- a lot. I remained conflicted, fearing that if I acted on such impulses I would permanently lose my wife to my principal. I knew that I had to attempt the spell soon or I would be permanently lost within a teenage dream that was quickly becoming a reality. Once again, Mr. Atwater's words had rung true. Was he still controlling me? The feeling lacked the obsessive flavour of my union with Alexandre. With Ethan, I didn't feel like I needed to be anything but myself. I also didn't have the desire to deface my body with his name. During our date, it had crossed my mind. If Alexandre had suggested I get a tattoo, and specifically, his name on my ass, like some type of prized heifer, I would have allowed it. My bond with Alexandre was completely artificial. With Ethan, I felt like I had the choice, and I was making it freely. Eventually, Am?lie left, but not before saying, "Don't forget to do your homework." I spent the rest of the afternoon penning a letter to Mama Khalia, telling her of the Sidereus Prophecy, my dream, Mr. Atwater, and again, my feeling that if she didn't help me soon, my adult existence would be completely undone. That evening, as I did my homework, I found myself checking my phone. The little pink device vibrated, but it was only Alyssa, asking me for an update. I went to sleep that night saddened at the lack of contact, and annoyed that I couldn't get the boy off my mind. I looked at the gold band on my ring finger, the object that ended the disease known as the 'boy crazies' on many occasions, but it didn't work anymore. Before I considered my wife and I 'estranged', and it was fitting considering we were separated by a phenomenon that had previously been impossible to explain. Now, I knew that my marriage was really over, with Am?lie slowly moving on, and me unable to stop thinking about a boy. It should have bothered me more, it should have pierced my core, filling me with dread and extreme sadness, but Ethan's silence weighed more heavily. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I could have sworn I saw Mr. Atwater wearing that sardonic smile. He whispered, "I told you so, Abby. Didn't I?" *** I woke up grum