by Erin Halfelven
 

2.2 Picnic

I had made a few discoveries alone in the orchard. First, when I ran as fast as I could getting there, it was faster than I'd ever run before in my life. And I felt like I could have kept running for a long time, too. I ran about a quarter mile; that’s not far, but I didn’t feel even the slightest need to breathe deeper than usual, even while running.

And running was something I knew a bit about. Last fall, when Kevin went out for freshman football, I had chosen cross-country. So I knew I how to run, not that I was a star or anything but being skinny is a bit of an advantage in some sports. So while Kevin was getting a lot of bench time on the football squad, I got a lot of running done. And no heavy helmet or pads or anyone trying to kill me.

But this running was different. My chest bounced a bit, and that was distracting more than painful, but I seemed to glide over the ground without making that much effort. Fast too. I wondered if I could beat my old times in something like a 5000? My last race, I had broken the 20 minute mark, not bad for my first year in running, but I felt lighter and faster now. The school record for seniors was something over 17 minutes and right then I felt that I might even beat that.

Just for a second, it occurred to me to wonder what the girls' record was in the 4800 which was the distance they ran at my school. Annoyed, I shook that thought off and just tried to run as fast as I could.

The ground didn't seem to hit my feet that hard either, even though it was hard, stony stuff with pebbles the size of walnuts. My little thin shoes did not fare so well though, and when I got to the picnic table beside the creek, I stopped and took them off.

I kind of regretted that I hadn't gone out for track and field in the spring, running was something I enjoyed. But Kevin and I had both played baseball in the spring and summer ever since Little League and that was fun too, so we had gone out for the team and were solid there. Kevin played left or third and I was utility, anyplace but catcher; I even pitched a few innings. In fact, we had a game to go to on Saturday, our team in Buena Park against one from Orange.

What the heck was I going to do about that if I were still stuck as a girl? We had practice coming on Friday, too. It wasn't just that I was a girl now; I was several inches shorter and lighter with a different face. I pushed that worry away; it was Tuesday, and I had at least three days to convince the ring to let me be me again.

With my shoes off, I had a thought to climb some of the trees, but they were such a tangle up high that I didn't right away.

I tried picking up things. Rocks, boulders, tree trunks, a piece of concrete with a fence post sticking up out of it; a lot of those things I didn't think I could have picked up before. It seemed like I had some superjuice from the ring, even if it wasn't visible. That concrete thing must have weighed a hundred pounds or more, and the only trouble I had with picking it up and swinging it around was keeping my balance. When I let it go, it flew about ten feet and made a horrible crashing noise landing in a pile of broken branches.

I felt peculiarly satisfied by the noise, so I tried throwing other things. I had played on the Babe Ruth League All Valley All-Stars three years before, not first string, but I was on the team, and I could throw pretty hard. Well, I could throw even harder now. When I broke a limb off one of the trees with a thrown rock about the size of my hand, I stopped doing that.

I might be a girl, but I didn't have to throw like one, apparently. It wasn't a big limb or anything, but I felt pretty sure I couldn't have done that before. I seemed to be hitting what I aimed at, too.

After half an hour or so among the peaches—I guess they were peaches, or maybe plums, they weren't apples—I started getting hungry. The fruit was at least weeks away from being ripe enough to eat, and I had just about decided that I would have to head back to the farmhouse to get lunch when I saw Kevin coming across the field with a basket.

"Oh, crap," I said. "We're going to have a picnic, how romantic." Yeah, I can be sarcastic even when no one is around to hear it.

"Hey, Boo-Boo," called Kevin in a fakey cartoon voice. "I got us a pick-a-nick basket. A-aiiiee-ee!" I kept on ignoring him, going back to cataloging my new abilities.

I could climb like a monkey and jump like an antelope. When I'd spotted him coming, I leaped into one of the bushy trees and climbed up as far as I could without breaking a limb something. I didn't think Kevin could see me, but I didn't have any sort of plan of what to do. Maybe I would just hide until he left.

"Superpowers," I said to myself as I snugged up against a tree trunk. "I really do have superpowers." As a consolation prize, it was better than some things, sort of like getting a B in geography instead of a date to the Sweetheart Dance. Was it enough to make up for being turned into a girl? I didn't think so.

Worse, now that I thought of it; I doubted I'd have any problem getting a date, looking like I did. And that didn't even things out by a long shot.

Especially when someone else had gotten a lot better deal. Because Kevin found me easily; if I had superhearing, he probably did, too. He might have tracked my breathing or even my heartbeat. He stopped under my tree and looked up, holding the basket high.

You sometimes find hornet nests in fruit trees. I looked around for one I could drop on his head but no such luck. He knew exactly where I was, looking right at me even though I was pretty well concealed in the greenery.

"Unk packed us some goodies, a couple microwaved meatball subs he had in the freezer, some chips and sodas and a slice of chocolate cake, each," Kevin said loudly enough for me to hear him anywhere in the little leftover orchard. He turned back toward the table, an honest-to-gosh picnic table, right in the middle of the place, with one of the massive concrete benches broken in half. He started unpacking the goods, spreading out carefully wrapped sandwiches, plastic bottles of soda and the rest of the goodies.

I watched him without climbing down. He looked like the same old Kevin, but he handled that basket with more than a gallon of soda in it and other stuff as if it were just an empty happy meal box. Yes, like me, he had some power from the ring, even in his own Kevin-shape.

And that was another thing, Kevin looked like Kevin when he wasn't in the ring-supplied costume. Just ordinary Kevin that I had known almost my whole life – while I looked like my sister, so annoying.

I glared at the ring on his right hand, squarish blue gem in a golden setting, the blue-black scarab beetle insignia under the stone. I wondered if I could knock him out, take the ring and become the Skarab myself instead of Damselfly. It probably wouldn't work for one reason or another, but I wouldn't know if I didn't try.

It turns out that moving through the tops of trees without making noise is really hard to do. I gave up on an ambush and just dropped out of the tree near the picnic table, landing on my feet in true supers fashion. It didn't hurt my bare feet at all, and I took all the shock easily just by bending my knees a bit. Truth, I stuck the landing, better than a top-ranked gymnast. I wanted to take a bow but I just pushed my hair back behind my ears again.

"Great landing, Olympic quality." Kevin clapped ironically and laughed. "You're such a tomboy, Darla," he said. "Climbing trees, throwing rocks, and I bet you've never worn a dress in your life."

"You'd lose that bet, actually," I said. "Tanya used to dress me in her old clothes when I was three or four." I'd never told anyone that before, but it hardly seemed embarrassing anymore. I walked toward the table to look over what he had laid out.

"She got pictures?" He'd put down a sort of tablecloth made of butcher paper or something and weighted it down with six-packs of soda.

"Pictures wouldn't do you much good," I said. "At that age, photos of Tanya and me can't be told apart anyway except she had longer hair. Besides, if you could prove it was me, I'd have to kill you." I stepped in close and sucker punched him right in the gut.

"Oof," he said and backed up about three feet. I'd put everything I could summon in a moment into that punch, and it made a sound like a watermelon dropped from an overpass. But all he did was back up one long step.

I tried to punch him in the face. He blocked me so I kicked up like we'd been taught in a tai kwon do class we'd taken when we were about ten. Unfortunately, he'd taken the class, too, so he blocked my kick with his leg and grabbed my ankle with one hand and my wrist with the other. I didn't expect him to be so quick; if my timing had been better, he would never have been able to grab me.

"You know I'm not going to hit you," he said, "but what the heck are you trying to do?"

He pulled and pushed at my arm and leg and made me hop around on one foot, waving my free hand for balance. He was not just taller and heavier than me but much, much stronger, even with neither of us in costume.

I gave up trying to get away and just stood there, him holding me by one ankle and one wrist. "Why won't you hit me?" I asked, knowing the reason and hating it.

"'Cause you're a girl–at the moment," he said grinning. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll wait till you're a boy again and try to kick you in the nuts, too."

If he thought I would be a boy again, I guessed I could leave off fighting – for the moment. I rolled my eyes at him. "Let me go," I said.

He squeezed both grips for a moment before pushing me so that I had to sit down on the unbroken side bench of the table, sit down or fall down, and then he let me go. I knew I hadn't had a hope of breaking loose, and that had taken the fight out of me. Up until that morning, Kevin and I had been pretty evenly matched in our sometimes-aggressive horsing around but it was obvious that since my transformation, he was bigger and stronger, even without the extra inches and pounds of the full Skarab change.

I didn't look at him, rubbing my wrist where he had squeezed it. The very slight ache went away quickly. Nice to know that. But I might be stronger and faster than any ordinary human up to twice my size and weight, still Kevin just had more mojo than I did.

For some reason, that thought annoyed me in a whole new way. It wasn't just the unfair difference in what had happened to us; it was also the feeling of being second-class. I got over getting over being annoyed at him real quick. I felt another pout coming on and that didn't help at all.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked. I knew from the sound of his voice that he really meant his concern and wasn't just being a dick about it. Him being gentlemanly was pouring salt on my tail – or whatever that old saying is.

I shook my head, still not looking at him. It had hurt, but I wouldn't tell him that; besides, the pain faded so quick I wasn't sure how bad it had been.

"You were trying to get the ring weren't you?" he asked.

I had to push my hair back again to look at him. "Wouldn't you? If things had gone the other way?"

He grinned. "Bet your boobies I would." Then he shrugged. "Wouldn't do you any good, though."

"Why not?" I said. "If I'd got the blue ring first, I'd be Skarab and you'd have boobies to bet with."

Still grinning, he reached up and pulled his own ring off and handed it to me.