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Author's Note:Sorry about the delay of a couple of days, there was a plumbing issue in my apartment that is still ongoing. I was preoccupied. This chapter starts first day back to school, a true first day for Taylor, which will definitely be different than any that Tyler has ever experienced.I appreciate any kind of feedback or comments that people might have :).
 

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2.

She got up early Monday morning, an hour before her alarm. Part of was a bit of anxiety, the other part was on Kayla's insistence.

She was so used to her morning routine, it did it on autopilot. She got out of bed, peed, brushed her teeth and took a shower. Showers were something she always enjoyed but they were an experience now. Her skin was softer, more sensitive and the new body wash had a fragrant cherry odor that was fast becoming her favorite.

Climbing out, she wrapped a towel around her body, wandering over to the mirror. The girl staring back at her was not a stranger anymore, not that she ever really had been. Maybe when it first happened but now it was just her. The white blonde hair, the sparkling blue eyes, the face that looked ever so slightly like her twin but also like her old self.

She went through her morning routine skincare routine. Kayla had hammered it into her head a million times or so it seemed. Cleansing, moisturizer. A few other things.

Leaving the bathroom, she dried her hair while she sat at her vanity.

Taylor's fingers moved with practiced ease over the array of cosmetics spread across her vanity—no hesitation, no second-guessing. The muscle memory was there, as though she'd been doing this routine for years instead of weeks. She dabbed concealer under her eyes with precise pats, blending it seamlessly into her fair skin without needing to check a mirror. The brush swept peach blush across her cheekbones in quick strokes, depositing just enough color to highlight her newly delicate bone structure.

Taylor's eyeliner pencil moved with the steady confidence of a seasoned artist—no shaky first attempts, no smudged corrections. The black wing tapered to a sharp point at the outer corner of her eye in one fluid motion, as natural as breathing. She blinked at her reflection, the dark line accentuating the blue of her irises in a way that still surprised her. No tutorial videos. No practice sheets. Just skill now from Kayla's tutelage.

Taylor's fingers moved with eerie precision as she dusted shimmering highlighter across her cheekbones—three quick strokes, no wasted motion. The pink-gold powder caught the morning light perfectly on the first try, which should've felt impossible for someone who'd needed YouTube tutorials to apply sunscreen correctly two months ago. She blinked at her reflection, watching her newly feminine features sharpen under the expertly applied cosmetics. No smudged eyeliner. No clownish blush. Just... effortless.

She used a soft tone for her lips.

The lip gloss tube clicked shut with finality. Taylor pressed her lips together—strawberry-scented and slightly sticky—but perfect.

It was eerie how efficient at all of this she was now. A month ago, she would have been terrified if someone told her how things were. The idea of getting up before her alarm, showering with girly body wash, shaving her legs, applying moisturizer and makeup---it was all crazy. It was something a girl did, something she did.

She smiled at her reflection, calming her nerves.

Walking over to her closet, she stared at the outfit Kayla wanted her to wear—a cute skater dress. It was girly and made a statement according to her twin. She closed the closet door, shaking her head. It was also something she was not ready for. She secretly loved it but wasn't there yet. Instead, she went to her dresser, grabbing some simple underwear. She put it on with practiced ease, no longer bothered by the weight of her breasts nor the new curve of her hips.

She found something simple to wear: a tank top and jeans.

Taylor tugged the tank top over her head, the soft cotton whispering against her newly sensitive skin. It settled comfortably across her shoulders—not too tight, not too loose—the way clothes never quite fit her old male body. She caught herself twisting slightly to check the mirror, not out of insecurity but curiosity. The jeans hugged her hips in a way that still felt novel, the waistband sitting snug where Tyler's pants used to sag. She hooked a finger through one belt loop absently, the gesture unexpectedly natural.

There were two pairs of sneakers sitting by her door. No she bought specifically for running, other she got for everyday use. Another complaint of her sister's. Kayla wanted her to be fashionable, wear sandals or some other such nonsense. At least she compromised and let her sister get her some heels that were currently hidden in the closet.

Taylor didn't want to be a fashionista.

She wanted to be comfortable.

The bedroom door burst open before Taylor could lace her sneakers. Kayla stood silhouetted in the doorway, her gaze flickering from the discarded skater dress still hanging on the closet door to Taylor's tank-and-jeans ensemble with theatrical disappointment. "Seriously?" She held up two fingers like a referee calling a foul. "That's your rebellion outfit? You look like you're going to mow a lawn."

Taylor crossed her arms, the hem of her tank top riding up slightly with the motion. "You sound like Mom when she—" She froze mid-sentence as Kayla's outfit registered—cropped sweater, pleated mini skirt, and the white platform sneakers Taylor had categorically refused to try on yesterday. "Wait. Are you wearing my—?"

Kayla twirled on the spot, the skirt flaring just enough to show off the stolen sneakers. "Borrowed," she corrected with a smirk. "And before you whine—yes, they fit perfectly. Almost like we're identical twins or something." She tossed Taylor a scrunchie from her wrist. "If you're going to slum, at least do it with a ponytail".

Taylor caught the scrunchie mid-air. She rolled her eyes but obediently gathered her hair into a high ponytail, fingers working with the same unconscious efficiency they'd applied to her makeup earlier.

The scrunchie snapped against Taylor's wrist as she finished twisting her ponytail into place. She caught Kayla's reflection smirking in the vanity mirror—that particular brand of smug satisfaction that meant trouble. "What?"

Kayla tossed a tube of mascara onto the vanity with a dramatic sigh. "You're missing the point, Tay. First day back at school as the hot twin and you're dressing like a PE teacher." She flopped onto Taylor's bed, sighing dramatically.

"I'm not out to be Miss Teen Popular," Taylor admitted, standing and stretching. "I'm being practical. It's not a contest".

Kayla snorted. "Maybe Boy World wasn't a contest but sis, you're in Girl World now" She sat up from the bed. "EVERYTHING is a contest!"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Dramatic, much?"

Kayla got off the bed. "You'll soon see my young padawan."

The two of them left the room and headed down to the breakfast table. Their mother was now used to this earlier morning routine, anticipating her daughters. She was sitting at the table, sipping her coffee like usual, alone.

"Where's Dad?" asked Taylor as she found some grapefruit.

The grapefruit juice dripped down Taylor's fingers as she froze mid-bite, realizing what she'd just asked. Their mother's coffee cup hesitated halfway to her lips—that slight tremor in her wrist the only indication of discomfort. Kayla's fork clattered against her plate with deliberate loudness, breaking the silence. "Another trip," she said through a mouthful of pancakes, kicking Taylor under the table. "He left early this morning."

His usual since coming home. He'd been present since he came back but not truly present. They were close when they were father and son, well as close as they could be. She and her Dad had never really connected in the sense that most sons and fathers did. She wasn't into sports as Tyler. She was actually pretty unmotivated, except for games and schoolwork. But he was present back then when he was home.

Now it was like he was a total stranger even when they were sitting next to one another.

She didn't have to be a genius to figure it out.

Her father wasn't dealing.

"His loss," Kayla said out of nowhere, giving her sister a gentle hug.

The grapefruit juice tasted sharper than usual—or maybe it was just the tension lingering in the air between bites. Taylor watched her mother's fingers tighten around the coffee cup, knuckles whitening for half a second before she forced a smile.

"Pass the syrup, would you?" Kayla's voice cut through the silence like a knife through frosting, her outstretched hand wiggling impatiently. She'd piled her pancakes into an absurd tower, whipped cream threatening to slide off the sides. "I'm building a carbohydrate monument to my future regrets."

"What's with the pancakes?" Taylor asked, handing over the syrup.

Kayla was the one who made her eat a "light" breakfast after all.

"Because some of us look like a Greek Goddess" Kayla grunted then flexed an arm. "While other peasants like myself wish they had your abs"

Taylor couldn't argue. Its not like she asked for abs. Though she wasn't going to complain. She loved her new body. She loved the way it moved, the way it made her feel. She never realized how out of shape she was before as Tyler. She couldn't imagine going back to an existence like that either.

"So you're carb loading?" she asked.

Kayla nodded. "Can't let my little sis show me up"

Taylor snorted. "First time for everything"

There was no denying that as Tyler he had lived in her shadow.

Kayla was popular, outgoing, energetic. Tyler had been laid back, focused on games, keeping a small circle of friends and being comfortable. Tyler had been happy with that existence and never saw a need to push himself into anything else. Ok so maybe happy was not the right word. Content. She had been content as Tyler but also oblivious too. Or maybe ignorant. She didn't want to sound lazy though.

Now things are changing.

Taylor was a whole different being now.

She watched her sister wolf down the pancakes while she nibbled at her grapefruit.

A car honked, interrupting their tranquil family moment. 

Right on time, Taylor thought, as if nothing had changed. 

It was the signal that life was returning back to normal. Back to the way things had always been. It was the sign that Kayla was going back to her world—after taking the month off to help her---and Taylor was going back to hers. 

"That's Jess," said Kayla, standing and leaving her pancakes half finished.

She grabbed her backpack. Taylor looked at the clock on the wall, wondering how much time she had before the bus came. She got up, grabbing her own backpack. She started for the living room. Maybe she could watch some morning cartoons or something before...

"Where are you going?" asked Kayla.

Taylor stopped, turning. "The couch"

Kayla rolled her eyes. "Why? Jess is waiting. Let's go".

Taylor's fingers tightened around her backpack straps as Kayla's words registered—not just the words, but the casual assumption behind them. That Taylor would ride with Jess. That she belonged in that car now. That her world wasn't separate anymore. The realization hit her like a skipped heartbeat: she wasn't being left behind this time.

Taylor's sneakers scuffed against the kitchen tile as she hesitated. "Wait—you want me to ride with—"

Kayla rolled her eyes. "Duh. C'mon".

They left the house together.

There was a large black SUV waiting, Jess's older brother Curtis behind the wheel. None of them were old enough to get their license after all. Curtis was a senior. As Tyler she'd only known him in passing and by reputation. He was a football player but he was a pretty cool guy. He wasn't one of those asshole jocks like Jason had been.

The SUV's passenger door swung open before Taylor could reach for the handle. Curtis leaned across the center console with his arm still outstretched from pushing it ajar—his posture freezing mid-motion as his gaze landed on Taylor for the first time. His eyebrows shot up beneath his messy brown bangs, mouth slightly agape like someone had pressed pause on his reaction.

Curtis's hand hovered in midair, fingers still curled around the phantom door handle he'd just released. His gaze flickered between Taylor and Kayla with the slow, dawning horror of someone realizing they'd walked into an optical illusion. "Holy shit," he breathed, leaning further across the console. "You're like... clones now."

Jess's head snapped around so fast her seat belt locked with an audible *click*. Her jaw went slack as Taylor slid into the backseat—not just at the mirrored resemblance between the twins, but at how *natural* Taylor looked in Kayla's stolen scrunchie and secondhand confidence. "Oh my god," Jess whispered, reaching out to pinch Taylor's cheek like she might be a hologram. "You're *prettier* than Kayla."

"Hellooo, right here you know" Kayla said dramatically as she got into the vehicle too.

"Oh hey Kay" Jess remarked offhandedly before turning her attention back to Taylor. "Glow up of the century!"

She pulled out her phone before Taylor could react, snapping a pic. "Sierra and the rest of the squad are going to freak"

Taylor sighed heavily, forgetting what she just stepped into. Jessica was one of the biggest gossip queens in the school. She had no doubt that that innocent pic would make its way around the whole school before they even left the driveway.

"It's a shame about the whole Tomboy thing though" Jessica shook her head. "Tragic".

"Tell me about it," Kayla sighed. "I had this cute little dress all picked out for her and she went with that."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "This is more me."

Kayla sighed again. "Wherever did my cute little sister from yesterday go?"

Taylor grunted. "Still here just not ready for the world yet".

"Well the world is ready for you!" Kayla, gushed, wrapping her arms around Taylor tightly.

"So cute" Jessica practically squealed from the front seat.

"Ok, driving now," Curtis announced, interrupting all of them.

The SUV started and pulled out of the driveway.

Taylor was keen to notice how Curtis kept taking quick glances in the rear view.

Curtis's fingers drummed against the steering wheel in a nervous rhythm as he stole another glance at Taylor through the rear view mirror—this one lasting a second too long. The SUV swerved slightly before he jerked it back into lane. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his grip. Taylor caught his reflection watching her with the same bewildered fascination someone might give a zoo exhibit.

The SUV's interior smelled like vanilla air freshener and the lingering musk of a teenage boy—a scent Taylor recognized instantly from Tyler's memories of gym locker rooms. Curtis cleared his throat awkwardly as they turned onto Ridgewood Avenue, his grip visibly tightening on the wheel. "So uh..." His eyes flicked to the rear view again, lingering on Taylor's reflection for half a heartbeat too long. "You feeling okay? After... everything?"

Jessica gave her brother a weird look before turning around in the front seat again. "You seem pretty normal actually. You're not all..."

"Jasmined" Kayla said, turning the name into a verb apparently. She then puffed up proudly. "Tay did not get whatever that is"

The SUV hit a pothole hard enough to make Jessica’s phone clatter to the floor—but Curtis didn’t even flinch. His fingers stayed locked on the wheel at ten-and-two, eyes darting back to Taylor in the rear view for the fifth time in as many minutes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Seriously though," he tried again, voice cracking slightly. "No weird side effects? No... urges?"

Taylor shrugged. "Nothing too weird".

Kayla snorted. "Except she's like a super Runner girl now. She laps the block like ten times a day."

Jess twisted fully around in her seat, seat belt straining. "Wait, Runner Girl? Like—" She mimed exaggerated running motions with her arms. "Superhero shit?"

"Not superhero," Taylor said quickly. "Just... faster than before." She flexed her arm absently, watching the way her bicep shifted beneath smooth skin. "And stronger, I guess."

Jess's eyes widened as she practically climbed over the seat back. "Wait, The Bug makes you stronger?" Taylor shrugged. "No shit. Why don't they say that shit on TV."

"Probably because every kid out there would want to catch it then" Curtis supplied, curbing his sister's enthusiasm. "And would you really give up all of you, become a guy, just for the slim chance of something like that?"

"Well maybe if it gave me laser eyes or...." She started but stopped when she noticed Taylor staring. "Oh sorry, Tay, that was insensitive."

"It's fine" she said and meant it. "It's not like I meant for this to happen and honestly, I don't hate it."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

Taylor shrugged. "It was weird at first but I adjusted quickly. After a month, it's just me now."

Kayla gave her another hug. "The better you!"

That one stung a bit but Taylor didn't say that aloud. Kayla made it sound like Tyler was flawed or less than. There was nothing wrong with her before. Did her sister really think she was better of now than before? She made a mental note to talk with her about it later.

They arrived at school five minutes later.

Taylor's phone binged several times with texts. She pulled it out. There were a lot from Benny. There were a few from Callie. There were also some from people she didn't know. She checked Benny's first, already knowing what to expect from him. They were frantic, like bursts of energy:

*Dudette.*
*You're all over the school.*
*Everywhere.* 
*Everyone is talking.*
*People stunned.* 
*Saying you're hotter than Jasmine.*
*Hotter than Kayla.*

Taylor groaned. Great. This is not what she needed. She knew it was going to be different but she wasn't expecting this.

Kayla leaned over his shoulder, reading the texts. "That prick" she grunted, after she read the last text. "Remind me to kick his ass the next time I see him".

"He's harmless" she said before reading the single text from Callie.

It was just a simple, *"Are you ok?"*. Taylor smiled and texted back: *All good. Just pulled up to the school now.*

Callie: *Be prepared. When Jasmine came back last week, it was circus.*

Great.

Taylor took a deep breath as the SUV pulled into Curtis's usual spot in the parking lot. Kayla grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The moment Taylor entered the school, whispers rippled outward like shock waves. Heads turned in synchronized motion—locker doors left half-open, backpacks abandoned mid-zipper. Curtis muttered "Jesus Christ" under his breath as he walked ahead, deliberately shielding Taylor with his broad shoulders. It didn't help. The crowd parted unnaturally, creating a corridor of wide-eyed stares and raised phones.

"Breathe," Kayla whispered, fingers tightening around Taylor's wrist—not guiding, just anchoring.

Taylor's sneakers squeaked against polished linoleum as the whispers crescendo-ed—not the scattered murmurs she'd braced for, but a relentless tide of "*Ohmygod*" and "*That's really her?*" Curtis's attempt at shielding her backfired spectacularly; his football jersey might as well have been a spotlight framing her.

A sophomore boy she vaguely recognized from geometry dropped his binder directly in her path. Papers fanned across the floor as he froze, mouth slightly open. His gaze didn't even flicker to the mess—just locked onto Taylor's chest with the glazed intensity of someone witnessing a solar eclipse.

"Eyes up here, Sinclair," Kayla snapped, stepping between Taylor's line of sight. The boy flinched, scrambling to gather his papers with scarlet ears.

Taylor exhaled through her nose. This wasn't just curiosity—it was hunger. The kind Tyler had seen directed at Kayla a hundred times but never understood until now. A junior leaning against lockers straightened abruptly as Taylor passed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Damn," he breathed, too loud, to his friend. "I'd *pay* to—"

"She was a dude," his friend said.

"Not anymore" The first guy said, leering slightly before Curtis glared.

Taylor's locker was already surrounded when they turned the corner—a cluster of pastel hoodies and glossy ponytails that parted like theater curtains as Sierra stepped forward. Her smile stretched too wide, lips glossed pink enough to glow under the fluorescent lights. "There she is!" Sierra sang, arms outstretched like Taylor was a prize she'd won at the fair. The girls behind her erupted in synchronized squeals, their collective gaze crawling over Taylor's body with the intensity of forensic examiners.

Never in a million years would a group of cheerleader assemble to greet him when he was Tyler.

Sierra's manicured fingers curled around Taylor's wrist before she could react, pulling her into a cloud of vanilla body spray and synthetic strawberry gum. "Look at you!" she squealed, spinning Taylor like a mannequin for her squad's inspection. The motion sent Taylor's ponytail whipping against her cheek—too practiced, too fluid for someone who'd only worn their hair up for a month. Sierra's squad erupted in approval, their collective gaze dissecting Taylor's outfit with the precision of fashion police.

"Girl what are you wearing?" one of them asked with a disapproving tone.

Sierra frowned but only slightly. "When I heard you got infected at my party, I freaked. I felt so bad" She fake pouted. "I was wreck. Then Jess sent me that pic and I thought, "Damn maybe I accidentally did you a favor".

Taylor forced a smile at the superficial nature of it.

Never mind the fact that she hadn't actually invited HIM to the party. She also was quick to note how Sierra made it about herself too. She was also the one who was currently responsible for this whole crazy circus right now.

Taylor's fingers twitched at her sides as Sierra's grip lingered—too tight, too performative. The cheerleader's acrylic nails dug crescent moons into her wrist. Behind the saccharine smile, Sierra's pupils dilated with something predatory. "We *have* to get you on the squad," she purred, thumb brushing Taylor's pulse point.

Taylor vomited a bit in her throat. "Thanks but I'm not really interes..."

Taylor's protest died in her throat as Sierra's grip tightened—not painfully, but with the unshakable certainty of someone used to getting their way. The squad's synchronized coos of approval turned sharp when Taylor tried to step back, their pastel-clad bodies subtly closing ranks like glitter-coated sharks.

"You sure?" she asked, sugary sweet.

Taylor's throat tightened as Sierra's perfume—overwhelmingly sweet with notes of artificial coconut—clung to her nostrils. The cheerleader's fingers traced feather-light circles on her wrist, a gesture that felt less like camaraderie and more like ownership. Behind Sierra's veneer of concern, Taylor caught the glint of something calculating in her gaze—like a collector appraising a rare doll.

"She's sure," Kayla interrupted, pulling Taylor free.

The hallway's fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Sierra's grip lingered in the air where Taylor's wrist had been. A muscle twitched near Sierra's perfectly contoured jawline—the only crack in her pageant-ready composure. "We'll revisit this," she chirped, batting her eyelashes at Curtis before sauntering away, her squad falling into formation behind her like pastel-clad ducklings.

Taylor exhaled as Sierra's retreating ponytail disappeared around the corner, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Kayla nudged her with an elbow. "Welcome to my world," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"They don't call them The Pastel Mafia for nothing" Curtis grunted with a laugh then looked down the hall, the crowd of onlookers were finally dispersing. "You guys good now?"

Kayla nodded. "We can take it front here. Thanks for the help Curtis"

Curtis nodded. His eyes lingered on Taylor for another moment before he disappeared down the hall, leaving the three girls alone now.

Taylor's fingers twitched against the strap of her backpack as the hallway cleared, the residual energy of Sierra's encounter prickling along her skin like static. Jess bounced on her toes beside them, vibrating with unspent gossip. "Holy shit," she whispered, eyes darting between Kayla and Taylor. "Sierra *never* recruits personally. You're basically royalty now."

Jess's phone buzzed violently in her grip, the screen flooding with notifications. "Oh my god," she gasped, thumb scrolling frantically. "You're already trending on Ridgewood Confessions. Someone snapped you in the parking lot—hashtag GammaGlowUp is exploding." She tilted the screen toward Taylor, revealing a photo of her stepping out of Curtis's SUV, sunlight catching the honey-gold strands in her ponytail. The caption read: *TFW the hottest girl in school used to sit behind you in Algebra.*

Taylor’s stomach dropped as Jess swiped to reveal the flood of comments—emojis and exclamation points blurring together with phrases like *"upgrade unlocked"* and *"Gamma glow-up is REAL."* A particularly vivid comment—*"Bet she gives good head too"*—made Taylor’s fingers at her sides. Kayla snatched Jess’s phone away with a sharp *"Jesus, Jess,"* but the damage was done. The screen had burned the words into Taylor’s retinas.

Kayla turned to her sister. "Ignore the asshats" she said reassuringly. "Most of them will get taken down once the teachers see it".

Taylor shrugged it off. "I was a guy, Kay. I have thick skin. Besides its locker room shit, nothing I'm not used to."

Her sister frowned. "Yeah but you've NEVER been on this end of it before"

The bell rang, shattering the moment.

Taylor sighed. "Off to my meeting of doom" she joked.

Kayla frowned again. "I can go with?"

She waved it off. "I'm fine. I'll catch up with you later."

Kayla looked reluctant to leave her but nodded and finally did. Jess looped her arm through hers and the two of them wandered off down the hall, leaving Taylor alone.

Taylor sighed heavily and adjusted her backpack on her shoulder, heading off towards the office.

Her sneakers squeaked against the freshly waxed linoleum as she walked, the sound echoing slightly in the now-empty hallway. She could still feel the lingering stares from the students who'd lingered behind to watch her go, their whispers carrying just far enough to make her shoulders tense.

The principal's office loomed at the end of the administrative wing, its door slightly ajar. Taylor paused just outside, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly.

"Come in," Principal Hendricks' voice called from inside.

She pushed the door open to find Principal Hendricks seated behind his desk, Dr. Morris in one of the guest chairs, and—to her surprise—a boy she didn't recognize sitting in one of the other chairs.

"Ah, Taylor," Dr. Morris said with a warm smile, rising slightly from her seat. "Right on time."

Taylor hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tightening around her backpack strap. The unfamiliar boy turned slightly in his seat to look at her—dark hair, sharp jawline, green eyes. There was something maybe familiar about him but she couldn't place it.

"Come in, have a seat," Principal Hendricks gestured to the empty chair beside the boy.

Taylor sat, her knee accidentally brushing against the boy's. He didn't move away—didn't react at all, really—but something about his posture stiffened slightly.

Dr. Morris leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "Taylor, this is Henry" she said, gesturing gently to the boy. "He's another V63 recover-er like you."

Henry. Taylor's eyes widened slightly. Dr. Morris had mentioned him yesterday. So he was the one who got infected shortly after Jason did. Taylor studied him. This was the first time he'd met a boy with V63. Heck, he still hadn't met with Jasmine officially so technically. Henry was the first person that she'd met that had The Bug like her. It was eye-opening. This guy was like her but in reverse. Staring at the boy sitting there—flannel over a white t-shirt, jeans, combat boots. It was hard to believe he'd ever been a girl.

Then again, she still found it hard to believe she'd been a guy a month ago.

Taylor tried not to stare as Henry turned back to face her. He had a strong jawline, thick brows, broad shoulders, a slight muscular frame—similar to her own. He was handsome in a rugged way—almost like a lumberjack. But there was something else there, something she couldn't quite place. His eyes---they looked haunted somehow.

Dr. Morris continued. "Henry here contracted Strain Beta about a month ago—just after Jason did---but his progression was slower than yours, Taylor. His changes only completed last week."

That surprised her. "He's already back in school?" she asked.

"Just actually," Dr. Morris explained. "Beta is a bit different. The patient is only contagious 72 hours after the first initial stages of the infection. But the process of the change is slower. There was no longer a need for Henry to be isolated."

Taylor nodded, understanding. Then remembered something else. "Wait, wasn't Jasmine supposed to be meeting with us too?"

Last night, when Dr. Morris called, she had told her that she initially wanted all three of them to meet in the principal's office before class on Monday (today). It was her attempt to introduce the three of them to make it less awkward and to perhaps allow them to make friends and potentially rely on one another.

The principal cleared his throat. "Jasmine has excused herself".

In other words, the new "princess" didn't want to be bothered. With the kind of money her father threw around town, she could get away with it too.

Henry's fingers tapped an arrhythmic pattern against his knee—too forceful to be nervous, too erratic to be intentional. Up close, Taylor noticed red around his knuckles, the kind earned from fistfights rather than feminine hobbies. It was fresh. His voice, when he finally spoke, was deeper than she expected, roughened at the edges like gravel under tires. "Guess we're the unlucky ones," he muttered, not quite looking at her.

Dr. Morris cleared her throat, trying to move the conversation along.

Principal Hendricks took the time to say his piece.

Principal Hendricks leaned forward, his polished desk reflecting the fluorescent lights like a shallow pool. "First off," he said, fingers steeped, "we want you both to know Ridgewood High has a zero-tolerance policy regarding harassment of any kind—especially for students in your... unique circumstances." The pause before 'unique' lasted a millisecond too long.

Henry's scoff was barely audible, but the principal's eyes darted toward him anyway. Taylor noticed the way Henry's combat boots dug into the industrial carpet, his shoulders tensing like coiled springs beneath his flannel. Dr. Morris's clipboard tilted slightly in her lap—the only outward sign she'd caught the reaction.

"The school board has implemented several protective measures," Hendricks continued, sliding two laminated pamphlets across the desk. Taylor's fingertips brushed the glossy surface—Supporting Transformed Students: A Guide for Faculty. Henry didn't touch his copy. "All staff have undergone sensitivity training, and we've established a dedicated hotline for reporting incidents directly to my office." He tapped the embossed school crest on the pamphlet, as if this legitimized everything.

Taylor traced the embossing absently. The pamphlet smelled faintly of toner and false reassurance. Across from her, Henry's jaw worked silently—she could practically hear his teeth grinding.

Hendricks adjusted his tie. "We're also offering priority scheduling for restroom access—"

"Why?" asked Henry, annoyed. "I've got a dick now. It works like any other guys. I pee standing up instead of down".

Taylor bit her lip to keep from laughing. Hendricks' face twitched. "Right. Well, Taylor—"

"I think hers functions the same as mine used too" Henry interrupted again.

Dr. Morris cleared her throat. "The government has taken a stance to treat V63 students like transgender students in the past"

Henry scoffed again. "Yeah. Except we didn't choose this."

Dr. Morris's pen made an audible click as she retracted it, her gaze darting between Henry's clenched fists and Principal Hendricks' whitening knuckles on the desk. "What Henry means," she interjected with practiced calm, "is that involuntary transformation requires distinct considerations." Her clipboard tilted toward Hendricks like a peace offering. "Perhaps we could focus on the peer support group we discussed? A safe space to process shared experiences."

Taylor watched Henry's shoulders drop half an inch—not relaxation, but tactical retreat. His combat boots scuffed the carpet as he turned slightly away from Hendricks, the motion making his flannel sleeve ride up. Fresh scratches laddered his forearm, the kind left by desperate fingernails rather than thorny bushes.

Those peer groups. Were they the ones she mentioned yesterday? The sessions where she and the others met?

"I don't want to sit around with others discussing my feelings," Henry snapped. "I want to be treated like normal, like before. I'm a guy, it sucks. She's a chick, I bet she hates it too. Haven't we suffered enough?"

Dysphoria "There is nothing normal about this situation. I have to reassure the safety of the other students..."

"Safety!?" Henry raised his voice. "We're not dangerous. We're not contagious. We're people."

"People who are different now" the principal interjected.

Taylor watched with interest and concern. Henry was right. She just wasn't sure if it was her place to say anything.

Dr. Morris's clipboard landed on her lap with a soft thump, her fingers spreading like she was physically smoothing the tension from the air. "Gentlemen," she began, then caught herself with a quick glance at Taylor. "*Everyone*. Let's refocus." Her voice had that therapist cadence—soothing but firm, like a kindergarten teacher separating fighting toddlers. "Henry, Taylor—you're pioneers here at this school. The first and hopefully the last to navigate something unprecedented. That deserves acknowledgment, not bureaucracy."

Henry's combat boots scuffed the carpet again, but his shoulders lost some of their defensive hunch. Taylor noticed how Dr. Morris didn't say "it'll be okay" or "you'll adjust"—just acknowledged the suckage without sugarcoating. Refreshing.

Principal Hendricks cleared his throat, adjusting his tie again—Taylor counted three tugs so far. "Of course, of course. We merely want to ensure proper—"

"Protocols?" Henry interrupted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because locking us in glass boxes worked *so well* for the kids in the past."

It was pretty common knowledge that the first victims of The Bug were treated pretty damn badly. So bad in fact that a couple actually ended up killing themselves.

Dr. Morris's pen tapped against her clipboard—three quick strikes like a judge's gavel. "What Henry needs," she said with deliberate emphasis, "is autonomy." Her gaze flicked to Taylor. "What both of you need is agency in how this transition is handled." She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "So let's try this again—what would help *you* feel safe here?"

The question hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. Henry's fingers flexed, the fresh scabs on his knuckles stretching taut. Taylor noticed how his throat worked when he swallowed—like there were words caught behind his Adam's apple, sharp enough to cut coming up.

"Stop treating us like exhibits," Henry finally ground out. His combat boot nudged the untouched pamphlet off the desk edge. It fluttered to the floor between them, the glossy *Supporting Transformed Students* face-up like a discarded museum placard. "No special groups. No faculty 'sensitivity' whispers when we walk by." His green eyes locked onto Hendricks'. "Just... fucking normal."

Taylor cleared her throat, the ghost of comments still pressing around her. "What happened in the hallway earlier—" She stopped when Henry's head snapped toward her, his green eyes sharp with unexpected interest.

Dr. Morris leaned forward. "Would you like to share?"

She sighed heavily. "I felt like I was in a zoo, everyone's faces pressed up against the glass, staring, ogling."

Henry's fingers twitched against his knee—not quite a flinch, but close. "Yeah," he muttered, voice scraping low. "Like you're some lab rat they're waiting to dissect." His thumb traced the fresh bruises on his knuckles, the motion too deliberate to be casual. Taylor recognized the gesture instantly—it was the same way Kayla toyed with her necklace when trying not to cry.

Dr. Morris’s gaze softened, her clipboard lowering slightly. "That's exactly why we need structured support—to counteract that isolation."

Henry's laugh was a short, bitter bark. "Structured support? You mean more staring." His combat boots hit the floor with a thud as he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. "The only thing worse than being a freak show is being a *mandatory* freak show."

Dr. Morris was ready for that too. "I understand your concern, Henry and its unfortunate but we can't stop people from being people. Its in their nature. If something doesn't fit, they try to remove it. We can strive to make it easier for you but we can't force people to accept you."

Henry's fingers curled into fists. "So what? We just take it?" His voice cracked like ice underfoot—a sound Taylor recognized instantly, the same brittle edge her own voice had carried those first few mornings staring at her reflection.

Principal Hendricks cleared his throat. "No, you report it and let the proper authority handle it."

Taylor watched Henry’s jaw tighten—the muscle flickering like a live wire under skin. There was something raw in the way he held himself, like every cell in his body was braced for impact. She recognized that tension. It lived in her own shoulders now, ever since the hallway.

Report it. Right.

“What about online harassment?” Taylor asked, suddenly remembering the crude remark about the BJ on Ridgewood Confessions.

“Have you received any?” asked the principal, surprised.

“Check Ridgewood Confessions” Taylor sighed. “You’ll find someone quite interested in what kind of oral sex I might be able to provide”.

The principal’s face darkened. “I’ll have someone look into it”.

Dr. Morris watched them for a long moment before turning to the principal. "Perhaps forcing them to use different designated restrooms and locker rooms isn't the answer. I understand your concern but if we don't treat them like every other student, there will be severe consequences to their mental health."

The principal sighed. "The School Board is not going to be happy."

Dr. Morris gave him a severe smile. "Let the government handle the school board. You worry about the safety of your students" She looked at Taylor and Henry. "All of them".

The principal lowered his head, brow beaten and defeated. "I'll see what I can do"

"That's all we ask" Dr. Morris said, standing. "Now unfortunately, that's all the time I have for now" She turned to Taylor and Henry. "I'll contact you tonight via email to schedule individual appointments and to organize our first proper group session. I hope the both of you have a good day".

She shook both their hands then left.

The principal cleared his throat "Yes, well, once again, welcome back" He straightened his tie for the fourth time. "Talk to Mrs. Chambers on the way out, she has some info packets and a revised class schedule for the both of you."

With that they were dismissed.

Taylor and Henry left at the same time. They both met with the secretary, Mrs. Chambers. The older lady gave Henry a standoffish look while she gave him his papers. He scoffed and left without saying a word.

Mrs. Chambers smiled warmly at her. "Aren't you the prettiest thing, you look just like your sister."

Taylor smiled and thanked her.

She then handed Taylor her papers. "Oh honey," she murmured, leaning in close enough for Taylor to smell her lavender perfume, "you just tell me if anyone gives you trouble."

Taylor smiled again, thanked her again and left the office.

She ignored the other papers for a moment but stared at her "revised" schedule. The classes were all the same except her Study Hall and Gym period had been swapped.

Girls PE. 

Well that's going to be fun, she thought with dread.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF