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Aberrant: 200X - If I Could Be Like That


Contessa

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March 24th, 2008, 10:22am

Snow melted away on the outside as spring tried its best to return to the world. The students of Bellville High School were spending most of their day looking out at the comfortable weather wondering why they had to be in class instead of out there enjoying the new season.

Joseph Rodriguez was no exception.

“Also I want to remind all of you that your reports on gravity are due this Friday.” Mr. Jannis announced to his Science class. “No exceptions. Right Joseph?”

“Huh? Dude… wait…” The teen was caught off guard, completely blindsided while in his reverie. “What?”

He was saved any embarrassment by a hand in the air that caught the teacher’s attention. It was scarred, badly, with three of the fingers (pinky, middle, and ring) fused together in a rather unpleasant type of flipper. It belonged to a petite young woman adorned in a long sleeve hoodie that was about three sizes too large for her. “Yes, Miss Danae?”

“Should we include kinematical and dynamical equations describing trajectories for falling bodies?” The voice was a proud one. It intoned complete confidence of the subject matter.

The entire class groaned in unison. Apparently this was a common every day event from the cloaked young woman. “Uhh,” Mr. Jannis had no idea what she was talking about. “Sure?”

“Kaythanks!” She said at nearly the speed of light and her hood drooped down, nearly covering half her desk. Her pencil was already scrawling away on a half filled page of notebook paper.

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March 24th, 2008, 11:04am

Students poured through the halls of Bellville High, lockers were slammed shut and plans were already beginning for this weekend. Everyone, like every day before it, didn’t seem to notice Contessa Danae. The misfortunate teenager who, when she was two, was caught in a severe fire that left nearly sixty percent of her body scarred.

She lazily replaced a few books in her locker, half listening to the conversations around her, as she took out what was needed for her next class. She heard the talking about who was dating so n’ so or where people went for the weekend. She tried to not let it bother her but sometimes it was difficult for her accept that she would never be anyone but a scarred up freak show.

“Ceej!” A surprisingly chipper voice broke through the commotion of her mind.

“Wha-,” It was her turn to be shattered from a daydream is would seem. “Hey, Mixie.”

“Ya okay?” Ming Xao, or 'Mixie', was an American raised, one hundred percent Chinese girl, and arguably Contessa’s only friend. Her parents, who were both hardcore traditionalists, had moved to America in the eighties. Both had embarrassed her so often that she pretty much stayed on the bottom of the social ladder despite her exotic beauty and wining personality.

Okay… hanging out with the biggest loser in school didn’t help her rep much either.

“Yeah, sorry, just zoned.”

“Where do you get that crap from Ceej?” Mixie was almost completely laughing. “Mr. Jannis had no clue what you said. Hell, I have no clue what you said! What the heck’s kinematics?”

Contessa pulled her hoodie a bit, making sure the hood covered up her features, at least the left side of her face where the burns were most severe. “It is a branch of dynamics which describes the motion of objects without the consideration of the masses or forces that bring out the motion.”

“Riiiight… ya know, forget I asked.” The young Asian closed Contessa’s locker door for her and they started off to their next class. “Look, I uh need a favor…”

“You haven’t even started the report,” Tessa walked on, never lifting her head and her books hugged tightly to her chest. “And you want me to write it for you?”

“No. Well, kinda… I did start it this time; I was hoping you’d spruce it up. You know, proof read it. Please?”

A bit relieved that she’d actually bothered this time Contessa couldn’t say no. Before she had a chance to accept Mixie’s offer a group of other student plowed right between the two. Contessa dropped her books and was almost knocked over completely.

“Watch it freak show.” The leader of the pack said to Contessa as her gaggle of followers giggled sinisterly.

“You’re such a bitch Monica.” Mixie yelled, despite who might be listening while trying to help her friend regain her balance.

“Hey, she could have walked around.” Monica retorted a look of pure arrogance spread on her face.

“As if.” Mixie knelt down to recover the falling books. “If we were going to walk around your fat ass Monica, we’d have to pack a lunch.”

Several students could be heard laughing. Monica offered a huff and a middle finger and took her troupe to greener pastures. A scarred hand clutched the books tight to her chest once more and she continued her walk to class. “Let it be Ming, I’m used to it.”

“I can’t believe you used to hang out with her.” Still looking over her shoulder at the group of divas. “What happened?”

Tessa pulled her hood down a bit and quickened her pace. “She got pretty.” She mumbled silently.

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March 24th, 2008, 4:46pm

Contessas room was a sight to behold. There wasn’t any paint showing anywhere on the walls, just clippings of all sorts of people; of magazine models or pictures taken by her and Mixie, her father, covered old posters of comic book characters. There were even a few of her and Monica in the fourth and fifth grade glued up near the headboard of her bed. Mirror ofer vanity was covered with only a small opening to see ones self, her two desks, one for her computer and the other for homework, were riddled with pictures and cut out from everything to magazines to comic books.

Three Doors Down played in the background softly as to not disturb the quasi study group. Contessa was lying on her stomach in the middle of her huge bed with her legs slowly kicking back and forth to the rhythm of the music as she chewed on her pencil and read Mixie’s report.

Mixie was well at work rummaging through Contessa’s closet looking for something(else) to borrow. While Contessa did her best to cover her scars with baggy sweatshirts, she had an impressive collection of t-shirts. Mixie made it a point to plan her wardrobe for next week around what she could borrow from her friend’s closet, and since she filled them out far more than Contessa did they were just perfect at accenting her figure.

“Okay, uh, Mix…” Tessa looked up from the report. “Did you know you ended sentences with ‘and stuff’ almost twelve times in this report?”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” She asked holding up a shirt in the mirror.

“It’s a half a page long and out used ‘and stuff’ twelve times. That’s what’s wrong with it! Mixie, you can’t turn this in like this. Mr. Jannis will fail it in a heartbeat.”

“No he won’t. Remember?” Her eyes met Tessa’s via her reflection in the huge mirror out side the walk-in closet. “He said no matter what, as long as we did the assignments he’d give us no less than a ‘C’. So I’m good.”

Irritated the scarred teen rolled over, and sat upright on the side her bed, glaring at her raven-haired company. “That’s so lame.”

“It’s your shirt.” She laughed out a retort.

“No, the ‘C’ thing.” Tessa walked over and took the shirt from her, getting her attention. “You could get an ‘A’ in that class easily. Don’t settle for anything less than what you know is your very best.”

For a small fraction of eternity all that could be heard was the music playing softly in the dark, collage covered walls of Contessa’s room. Ming closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. “Will you help me make it better?”

“Of course.” Tessa smiled as wide as her maimed face permitted her to. “And you’re not borrowing anymore shirts until you bring back the four you borrowed last week.”

“Hey! C’mon!”

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March 24th, 2008, 10:33pm

The entire Three Doors Down play list was still playing several hours later. Mixie had gone home (at a decent hour, for once) and the Danae house was slowing down for the night. Hung across her computer were tomorrows clothes for school and from the bathroom she walked already in her pajamas which consisted of an old pair boxers and a plain white tee that, as she put it once, a four year old could fill out better.

A slight rapping announced that her father was at her bedroom door. “Punkin?”

“Come in, dad.” Her invitation was accepted almost before she finished extending it.

“Hey sweetie,” Doctor Peter Danae, Contessa’s father, peeked in slowly before opening the door all the way. His heart ached as he saw his daughter looking in the mirror, rubbing her hand slowly over the rough, seared flesh of her scalp. She had barely any hair at all, just a few tufts on the right side of her scalp which she kept long, allowing it sometimes to fall from underneath her hood. “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up. Thank you for leaving me some dinner in the microwave.”

“Mixie cooked.” She replied in a half-here tone while continuing to stare into the mirror. “You know me and stoves.”

“Well, thank her for me tomorrow, okay?” He leaned quietly against her computer desk. “Something wrong punkin’?”

“Monica Bowman played human barricade again today.” A slight smile made an appearance while the memory returned. “Mix told her off pretty good.”

“You two used to be such good friends Tessa, why don’t you just talk to her about it?” He knew why they didn’t hang out anymore, but had always hoped that as the girls matured they’d learn to settle their differences.

“That went so well the last time.” She rolled her eyes. “Dad, ever since she became popular all she cares about is staying on the top of the social ladder.”

“So, maybe she could help you become a bit more popular, maybe help get some new friends? Ever think of that?” It was a father right to dream, wasn’t it?

“Yes dad, I did,” She faced her father and her right, unscarred hand and began counting off reasons. “One, she’s the one who decied to one day treat me like crap, remember? Two, I’m not about to sleep with half the football team just to get invited to a party.” Sounding a bit frustrated she swept her arms down her body and her voice became a moisture filled yell. “Not that they’d be interested in a freak show like me anyway!

The first tear barely slipped down her cheek before she found herself sobbing uncontrollably in her father’s loving embrace. Years of practice had taught the man to be ready for signs when his unfortunate daughter had reached her limit of human cruelty. It wasn’t very often, but close enough that his heart had never quite recovered from the last time. “Shhh… punkin, I know it’s hard.”

She raised her arms and held him tightly, soaking his shirt and tie in salty tears.

Several minutes later he dried her tears while sitting on the side of her bed tucking her in. “All better?” He asked, smiling as she nodded and pulled the comforter up to her neck. “And no sleeping with half the football team, right?”

He always managed to get a laugh out of her. “No way.”

“Good.” He got up and walked over to her wall switch and clicked out the light and slowly pulled the door shut. “My heart can only take so much.”

In the darkness of her room Contessa slowly drifted off to sleep listening to her playlist softly repeat “If I Could Be Like That”. Yeah, she thought, looking at the shadowed outlines of familiar posters of comic book heroines and pictures of super models. If I could be like that, for just one day… I would give anything.

The Sandman slipped silently into her thoughts and in a few moments Contessa had drifted off to sleep.

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March 25thth, 2008, 6:00am

Loudly the buzzer of her alarm clock filled the room. With a groan and a defiant collapse of her arm down upon the ‘snooze’ bar Contessa lazily slumped out of bed. The room was spinning and she felt terrible. Her routine was rock solid yet something was different about this morning; she was tired, lazy, and fatigued. She may as well have had no sleep at all. Her slender, perfectly smooth and beautifully manicured left hand griped one of the supports to her canopied bed allowing her get her bearings.

Her accident as a child had caused some serious nerve damage to her body, several years and surgeries later days where she felt like this were common and shed learned to just suck it up and push on, but never like this. Today it was a different sort of monster altogether. Her eyes refused to focus and her perception of her surroundings was warped and inaccurate. The walls wavered and her desks stretched and contorted in ways that defied physics, or sanity.

Get a grip. Done this once, done it a thousand times. Eyes closed, take a step.

A knock at her door came through the haze. “Conessa, breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes, okay?”

And she took a step. She knew where she wanted to go and could navigate her room in the dark if need be. The cold tile of the bathroom sent a shiver up the back of her calf. In one step she covered nearly ten and her warped perceptions barely noticed.

Groggily she looked into the mirror, opening it and fetching her morning ritual of toothpaste of toothbrush. Water poured once the knob to the faucet was twisted and it was official, her day had begun.

Toothbrush? Check. Toothpaste? Check. Dragon Force performing a concert in my head? Check. Breasts? Check. I must to get new t-shirts, my chest is getting a bit much for…

She stopped brushing. Slowly the world came into a clearer focus. Her perfectly formed body stared back at her as steam rose up from the sink. Luscious long blonde hair flowed down to the middle of her back complimented by gorgeous blue eyes, long lashes, and full sensual lips. Her toothbrush fell into the sink clicking as plastic met porcelain and bouncing about several times while its owner stared in slack jawed bewilderment.

Finally finding her voice, Contessa screamed as loud as she was able.

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Like a bullet her father bust through the door of her room a look of fear, worry, and confusion upon his face. “Tessa!” He shouted as he launched himself a few steps into the room in an attempt to halt the momentum as an over protective father. “Are you al-” His first feeling was joy. He could see plainly what had happened to his daughter and he knew right away that they both could not be imagining this. His second feeling will be a secret he shall take to his grave. He didn’t know what to say, all he could do was oogle and stand there with his lip quivering and his eyebrow cocked in confusion. “Right? Dear sweet Jesus and Sister Mary Elephant on a pogo stick… what they hell happened to you?”

She bounced around a complete one hundred and eighty degrees. A huge smile was spread across her face showing off a perfectly formed set of teeth. Her slight over bite was gone too, her father made note of that. “Dad! Oh my God… look at me! I’m beautiful!” The sound of her happiness and the look of her joy were enough to make any father melt on the spot. The joyous moment was shattered by the young teens own excitement. “And, scope my ballistics!” Her delicate fingers point her father’s attention her impressive overnight arrivals.

Doctor Danae was surprisingly calm. He understood his daughter’s excitement, and even chuckled as he attempted to avert his eyes. “Okay, punkin, ground rules. One, as your father, please do not direct me to investigate parts of your anatomy unless you’ve felt something cancerous. Two, we shall not refer to your breasts as ‘ballistics’?

“Fuddy duddy.” She faked pouting only for a second or two.

“Sweetie, I need you serious for a moment. When did this happen?”

She spun back to the mirror, unable to get enough of the miracle she’d become. “I don’t know. Honest. I just woke up, went to brush my teeth and I was like this. Do you think I-?”

“Most certainly, but we need to get you to the clinic right away.” He walked towards the door. “Get dressed punkin, I’ll call the school and let them know you won’t be in today. Fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Kay.” She smiled at him through the mirror. He was always so calm, like a rock that could not be budged by the problems of the world or surprised by for that matter. He was her hero for just that reason. Deep down Contessa was a bit frightened over the strangeness of the morning but had been too elated to show it.

The car ride was a quiet one, the collar of her shirt was well stretched by the time they arrived from her persistent spot checks to make sure everything was still there. She’d always been a rather flat chested girl but usually didn’t bother with a bra, the straps would irritate the scarred side of her body causing rashes and infections. None of it really mattered now, there wasn’t a bra in her closet that could have helped her.

As they walked through the front doors of the clinic, sans support (not that she was in need of it), Conessa’s shirt was fitting two sizes too small and was exposing her incredibly attractive midriff.

Dear God, I prayed for a normal life for my daughter, and you make her into a Hooter’s girl. He couldn’t help but chuckle over the bizarreness of it all. Contessa had never been happier in all her life. To a father there was no greater gift that God, fate, or science could have given to him. A few doctors approached. Doctor Danae had called ahead and pulled a few strings to make sure Contessa wouldn’t have to wait. Barely half way through the introductions they were trying their best to maintain a semblance of professionalism in front of this young goddess of sexuality (even if she was clueless about it). “Just be brave, kay punkin? A few of the tests I can’t join you for but I’ll be right outside. Nothing that’ll hurt you, just some blood samples and a few tests to make sure you’re alright.”

He kissed her gently on the forehead and watched her walk off into the first examination room.

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