Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

I slept well last night.

Not ’no nightmares’ slept well, more ’only one nightmare, that started when my head hit the pillow and ended when I woke in the morning’ slept well. So I made it through the night, but I spent the entire night in that weird dream-time dead in a box staring at the light above me. I wasn’t terrified, and even the boredom seemed muted. Like I could hear someone humming outside the box; not comforting, exactly, but I could tell I wasn’t alone, and that made all the difference.

So we woke up more or less at the same time, and on time and rested at that. I had a big sad that Saffron insisted on getting dressed and getting to Breakfast on time.

Okay, she actually said, ”If you want to mess around in the morning, you’ll just have to wake up early for once,” while playfully slapping at me, then gently but firmly removing my hands and getting out of bed to get dressed. Of course, she’d joined the ’nightgowns are stupid’ club, although that may have been due to our more or less habitual naked exhaustion in the evening. That meant that I got to lie there watching her as she gathered up all our sweaty used uniforms into a laundry pile and pulled a fresh uniform from the armoire. I got a little sad when I noticed a complete lack of extra uniforms and remembered I’d be alone for the next two nights, at least, but distracted myself with the spectacular view.

I mean, seriously. Put somebody on a high protein diet, exercise the fuck out of them at least twice a week, and then add the ’must maintain boobage’ post-pregnancy hormones? Chef’s kiss, ”perfection.”

She just looked over as she pulled on her sandpaper panties and shook her head at me. Actually, I noticed hers bending as she pulled them on, almost like fabric. ”The hell? Did you buy some panties that aren’t made out of cardboard?”

She laughed as she kept getting dressed, ”No, you goof. I just spend an hour or so scrunching them up while I’m studying.”

Ugh. Way too much like work for me. She pulled the lapels on her shirt closed, so I got up and pulled my own clothes on while she finished getting sure everything fit just so. ”Both of us really ought to get bras though. Maybe I’ll ask about that tomorrow.”

”Bras?”

”Never mind. You literally don’t know what you’re missing, or you’d be as pissed about missing it as I am.”

She just looked at me while she fixed the most egregious of my wardrobe dysfunctions and said, ”Thank you?”

Breakfast had become my favorite meal of the day, mostly because it had the most real flavor. Spicy eggs on the daily, and either jalapeno scrapple, pumpernickel and cream cheese, or both. Good stuff, especially now that I’d learned how to slice and toast the bread all with a single spell. The rest of the cafeteria still gave me side eye about it, but I’d gotten the ROTCs to try my toast, and the gobbos actually clamored for it. I couldn’t tell if they liked it or just wanted to throw metaphoric hands at the rest of the Dining Hall, but it gave me warm fuzzies either way.

Out in Combat Training we spent the morning playing Squad Ball. Since we hadn’t really seen it coming, we didn’t have any special tricks up our sleeve, but we managed to stay ahead of the rest through a combination of Angel’s arm, Saffron’s smarts, my stupid, and Bill’s leadership. Then, during the last match of the morning, disaster struck.

I’d been fucking with Lancaster all day; not as much of a waste of time as you’d think. His team had come together despite him, the other three working almost like a single person to support his plays or each other, depending on the moment. Larry himself had all the ’team player’ instinct of a particularly antisocial rabid honey badger, and his leadership skills were nonexistent, but his arm and aim were fine, no matter how much I teased him about having noodle arms. If anything, he’d gotten more accurate over the past two months, and just like the rest of us he’d gotten stronger. Thing is, he still had the self-control of a fat chick on the rag at an all you can eat chocolate buffet, and unlike some of us, he wore his hot buttons loud and proud.

I think I’d just screamed something like, ”yo mama fucks pookas,” or some other random bullshit sure to set him off, which prompted the expected rifle shot of a throw aimed straight at my face.

Who knew all those books and movies about ’aiming for center of mass’ were right? Great aim and scary arm notwithstanding, his Squadball throws weren’t travelling anywhere near the speed of sound. A lean to the side and it flew right past me.

That’s when I heard an awful double crunch behind me. I spun, expecting to see Saffron with a broken nose. Instead I stared into Bill’s glassy eyes, his head bracketed by a pair of Squadballs. He dropped bonelessly to the ground. Ignoring everything, including a Squadball that slammed into the back of me, I dropped to my knees in front of him, an Assess Health extruding from my cheek as I slapped at his cheeks, checked his pulse, pressed my ear into his chest trying to hear a heartbeat. I pulled back and shoved a Stabilize into him, pouring Mana into it even as I hit him with it. Assess Health popped into place, and a whole screen of meaningless statistics filled my vision. Only one line mattered.

’Overall Health: Dead’

I screamed, just a pure raw sound of anguish and fury, grabbing at one of the Squadballs lying around Bill, fully intending to shove it up Lancaster’s ass until he choked on it.

Then the Marshall was there, filling my field of view. A glance at Bill, another at me, and he grabbed me by the shoulder, avoiding my hands like I hadn’t even tried to stop him, forcing me to look him in the eye. I heard him the second time he shouted my name.

”DIAZ!”

”The fuck you want?” I growled at him.

”Get Driver to the Infirmary, NOW NOW NOW!”

It took me until his third ’now’ for his message to penetrate my thick skull. Infirmaries were for people who could be saved. I dropped the ball in my hand as I fell to one knee, scooping Driver into a princess carry and launching myself at the nearest doors. I hit them with my left shoulder, maybe with one of Driver’s knees as well; they slammed open and I shot down the hall, hitting the stairwell and taking the steps a flight at a time, kicking off the walls of the landings; I’m not sure if I hit a floor at any point on the way down. I sprinted down the hallway, kicked off the wall opposite the Dormitory entry, getting four steps into the Dorm before something caught at me, shoving me back toward the entryway. My feet hit the floor, I crouched and shoved forward as if walking into a strong wind. One step, two, and then the web of energy pulling at me gave way with a crunch horrifyingly like the one I’d heard from Bill’s head.

No time. I sprinted to the Infirmary, shouldering the door open to see Doc DeLeon sitting at the desk. Before I said anything, he wove his hands through the motions for Assess Health; a moment later he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. ”Get him to Sister Siobhan, as fast as you can!”

He shoved at me, and I charged away from him, bolting out of the Infirmary and back into the hallways. I tore through the front hallway, bellowing, ”MAKE A FUCKING HOLE!” at a crowd of uniformed twenty-somethings loitering near the main entrance. Most of them dove for the doors; one light-skinned fucker too dumb to dodge or wear a uniform I fucking shoulder-charged like I’d done doors, leaving boot-prints when he tumbled under me. I kept screaming, ”COMING THROUGH! MAKE A HOLE!” until I kicked off the wall into the girls’ Dorm.

Two steps in, the fucking gender-net tried to grab Bill’s body from me and eject it from the Dorm. I set my feet and shoved, but every bit of power I put into pushing forward it mirrored, trying to rip him from my grasp. Fury shaking me like a rag doll, I hunched over, hugging Bill to me, instinct and rage forcing me to act, not think.

Mana poured out of me into dozens of Mana blades erupting from my shoulders, my legs, pretty much every part of me not facing Bill. I twisted, felt them catch at the net trying to pull Bill from me, and spun. If the Boys’ Dorm gender net went down with a sickening crunch, this one gave with the pained shriek of someone rending an electric guitar hooked up to stadium speakers.

I tore down the hallway, Mana blades falling away, clutching at Bill where sweat tried to slip him out of my grip. I bounced off the corner and straight toward Sister Trease, who stood, feet apart, arms akimbo, blocking most of the hallway with her water-buffalo-ness. I twisted in midair, catching her right in the gut with the heel of my boot, shoving off her shoulder with my other foot as she toppled. I bowled Sister Siobhan over as I crashed through the Infirmary door; she had it halfway open before I saw her.

I rolled to the nearest bed, lay Bill’s body gently on it, then hoisted Sister Siobhan to her feet and pushed her toward Bill.

”Oh, my...” That’s all she got out before finishing her Assess Health, at which point her entire demeanor changed. She looked at me, ignoring the enraged water buffalo noises from the door, and formally asked me, ”you freely offer to bear the cost of this?” The words niggled at me, I’d heard or read them somewhere, but I just nodded, replying, ”just do it.”

She lay one hand on Bill’s chest, and grabbed my left hand with hers. She murmured a prayer, and I lost all sense of anything as whatever she’d done tore Mana from deep inside me, feeling like it flash fried everything between my gut and my hand as it did. A moment later it ended, leaving me curled up around my entirely unfried hand, whimpering.

Bill’s voice, weak and confused, saying, ”Sister? How did I get down here?” made it all worthwhile.

Even with the fucking water buffalo screaming at me as I lay there in a pool of sweat, blood, and mangled uniform, trying to recover from whatever Sister Siobhan had done.