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Without further ado.

Chapter 8

Upon rounding the corner, Caitlin broke into a rather frantic run. Her breaths came shallow and quick, so much so that she began to feel light-headed. Fortunately, her first scheduled final exam was her open period, and she had opted to arrive at school late rather than sit through the optional study hall period. She definitely needed it, but with the amount of stress she was carrying today, she couldn't imagine studying for three hours in a room full of her peers. Actually, she really just wanted to postpone her public unveiling as much as possible.

She had lied to Maureen about the trig final. She had been so flustered and nervous during their encounter that it was a wonder Maureen hadn't seen right through her bravado. Why the hell didn't she say anything? Caitlin mused. Maureen seemed distracted during their brief encounter, which Caitlin attributed to her busy schedule. Maureen didn't even seem to notice Caitlin's blabbing about a trig final, when they both knew that she had Advanced Painting. Whatever it was, Caitlin was grateful that the discomfort of the encounter was (to her, at least) one sided.

Though she was arriving about ten minutes late, Caitlin was grateful to be entering her refuge of the day, the art studio. As she attempted to forget the carnival funhouse her life had become, she was met by a number of hiccups in her usual routine. Her locker was noticeably lower than normal, and she found she had to stoop a little to reach the lock comfortably. Where she had grown used to operating the lock with one hand, her longer fingers threw off her muscle memory, and it took her three tries to open the lock. Upon opening her locker, she initially opted for the paint-splattered, oversized t-shirt, hoping to downplay her makeover by slumming it a bit. To her chagrin, she found that where it previously had been "grossly oversized," her lengthwise and outward growth made the shirt simply look "a little big."

"This is getting ridiculous." She muttered to herself as she reached for the apron which she wore on occasion. The apron, still sized for a person nearly half a foot shorter than she currently stood, was uncomfortably short and noticeably snug around her chest and she had to adjust the straps to make it fit appropriately. She also swapped Alexis' heels for a pair of old sneakers, grateful for both the comfort and the slight lowering of altitude. After tying her hair back in a messy ponytail, she found that she had successfully downplayed her makeover by ironically making herself look like yet another person she hardly recognized.

Her entrance into the studio went largely unnoticed by the students, partly because she was a bit late and everyone was already working, and partly because the few students that glanced at her didn't remotely recognize her. Her canvas was in the corner, as she normally liked to stay as far away from the cluster of art students. She mounted her canvas, only to find, unsurprisingly, that it was too low and she grudgingly adjusted it to compensate.

With her canvas finally mounted, she took a moment to remember where she left off. She had changed the color of the sky on her landscape, and despite the rich maroon sky, the painting was pretty much the same thing it was before. She thought of Mr. Knightley's criticism, and Nicole Ryder's rather violent artistic process, and let her subconscious mind do the painting. As it was, she was too wrapped up in reliving the morning's unusual encounter with her mother to do much concentrating on her work.

- - - -earlier that morning - - -

Caitlin had awoken that morning to her mother quietly tapping on the door of her room.

"Honey? Isn't it finals week?" Her mother's muffled voice inquired from behind the door. "We wouldn't want you to miss an important exam."

Caitlin grumbled a reply about her open period being first on Monday, and had rolled over to fall back asleep when two (well, technically three) things popped into her field of vision. The first two were her still unfamiliar new breasts, which Alexis had informed her were a proud 34E, that rested on her arm. The third was the tufts of raven-black hair which nearly blocked her vision entirely. She sat up suddenly and scanned her room for a tape measure, silently praying that she was the same size she was when she had gone to bed.

The sounds of her breathing and frantic movements were not lost her mother. "Caitlin? Dear? Are you okay in there? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing mom, just a dream. . . or something." Caitlin half-mindedly replied, now on her feet and clumsily wrapping a tape measure around herself. It then occurred to her that she didn't remember the exact measurements Alex had taken, so new ones would be of little use. She tossed the measuring tape to the ground and opted for the tactile measuring method, which also proved fruitless since she hadn't had these breasts long enough to know how big she was supposed to be. She then caught a glimpse in the mirror of an unfamiliar dark haired, frantic, large breasted girl groping herself like and resolved to just try to just get ready for school, and do her best to forget everything that had happened.

Despite the fact that Alexis had convinced her to dye her hair to serve as a distraction from her height, to Cailtin, it wasn't nearly enough. Unfortunately for her, every motion she went through seemed hinted at how much her body-nevermind her hair-had changed in the last couple days. Her bath towel was noticeably smaller, the shower head was lower, and the top of the doorframes were within comfortable reach. These were just a few of the many changes she would simply have to learn to live with. Just take it as it comes. She told herself. The more you act different, the more you'll feel different.

She tried a number of outfit possibilities aimed at minimizing her changes. Each one, was about as effective as a neon sign pointing to her breasts. Alexis had absolutely no conservative clothing options, and even the bras pushed her breasts up and out for maximum viewing pleasure. She was sweating, and the clock was ticking. If she wanted to arrive and make it to the studio before class started, she would have to make a decision soon.

"F*ck it all." She said to herself, turning away from the mirror. "I'll wear whatever, and people can say whatever."

She slid into a pair of borrowed jeans, grateful for Alexis' generous curves. The jeans were actually a bit loose on her hips, which allowed them to hang a little to compensate for her now longer inseam. She reached into her drawer and grabbed the first shirt she laid her hands on. It was a dark gray Abercrombie shirt she had not worn yet which was form fitting and a bit undersized. Alexis hadn't left many options for shoes, and Caitlin was forsed to settle with the 2" clog sandals. She slipped them on, and was only momentarily distracted by the extra elevation. She did her best not to acknowledge to herself the fact that she was no longer flirting with six feet tall (!) and hurriedly headed out of her room and toward the door.

"Byemomgottagofinals!" She blurted loudly, making a bee line to the door, only to have her mother suddenly emerge from the kitchen and block her path.

"But don't you want breakf. . . oh my!" Her mother's eyes went wide as she gasped. Caitlin was obviously going to have to face this one head on.

"It's the shoes mom." She started quickly. "Really, I've just got . . ."

Caitlin's mother abruptly shook her head and patted her daughter on the shoulder. "I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm still getting used to the hair and seeing you with, well, more tasteful makeup, I just barely recognized you. You have such nice skin, it's definitely a more mature look for you." Caitlin was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just two weeks ago her mother was two inches taller than her, and now she towered over the woman. Also, with Caitlin standing on the second to last step and her chest nearly at her mother's eye level, her breasts weren't exactly inconspicuous.

"That's it?" Caitlin asked carefully.

"Well, dear. I'm not exactly thrilled about that midriff, but, I know, baby steps. Maybe this weekend we'll go shopping for some more appropriate clothing. That Alex is a nice girl, but I never did approve of her fashion choices. I think it's her mothers' fault. . ."

Caitlin was now the surprised one, as her mother started off on a rant about Alexis' parentage, she stood there on the steps, not sure to be thrilled or insulted at her mother's obliviousness to her drastic physical changes.

". . . oh, but I'm making you late!" her mother suddenly wrapped up. "Here's the car keys and a granola bar. You should get going!" Her mother dropped the items into Caitlin's purse, and headed back to the kitchen.

Caitlin blinked a few times, and then decided not to press the issue and headed out the door for the car.

==== Meanwhile, back in the present. . .====

"Caitlin? Oh my. . ."

Caitlin was suddenly snapped out of her reverie by the astonished voice of Mr. Knightley. The man was six feet tall, he was sure to notice that his formerly petite art student was no longer at chin level to him. Just play dumb, act like its nothing. With any luck he'll just think it's all in his head.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing."

Caitlin was confused by the reaction, and let her brush hover over where she had just lifted it from.

"I know I made a suggestion for you to explore your environment, but I never would have expected this choice."

She wanted to be surprised at the fact that yet another person had somehow overlooked her substantial recent growth spurt, but she was more surprised at what he was actually reacting to. Caitlin's mind had been wandering, something she normally tried to avoid while painting. Nonetheless, it had happened, and the result was. . . an igloo. She had painted an igloo on the surface of the grass, in the middle of her landscape, opposite the tree. It just kind of sat there, just as perplexed at its existence as Caitlin was by it. She opened her mouth to reply, though she couldn't fathom what she would possibly say.

"Don't say anything!" Mr. Knightley waved his hands dramatically. "Don't let me sway you. Just let it be. I can see you're really developing as an artist."

Caitlin raised an eyebrow at his last comment, feeling it hit a bit close to home given her present situation, but he had already turned and was wandering away from her toward the other students.

"What the hell is wrong with people?" She mused out loud, letting herself return to her work without distractions. This was short lived, as the rancid odor of cigarettes wafted into her space and a second interruption appeared.

"Whatcha' got there Landry?" Nicole sneered. Nicole had obviously stepped outside for a smoke break, and, upon reentry, had noticed Mr. Knightley admiring Caitlin's work. Nicole, if she made an effort, could be fairly attractive. In addition to her dyed hair and generous piercings, Nicole had large bright amber eyes, which had a subtly, hollowed look from moderate drug use. Only about 5'3, her thin frame and haggard look often remind Caitlin of a gremlin. Caitlin's higher perspective only aided in inviting the comparison.

"What the hell is that?" Nicole gestured with a paintbrush.

Caitlin was hoping to avoid an encounter and attempted to resolve it quickly the only way she knew how.

"Get lost, freak." She replied, without looking away from her canvas.

Nicole snorted, slightly amused, and persisted with her line of questioning. "No, no. Enlighten me. Did the hair dye seep to your brain? I'm curious what prompted the queen of conservative to become the seductress of the surreal."

Caitlin took a deep breath, and attempted to maintain control, but was growing self-conscious at Nicole's persistence.

"Look, I don't know. It's there. Just, please go away."

"It's a damn igloo! What are you? Cold?"

Their exchange was drawing unwanted attention from the other students, and she scrunched down a bit in an almost humorously futile attempt to hide herself behind her canvas. Nicole was getting to her, and she could feel tears welling up under her eyes. Oh God, Caitlin, she told herself. You aren't going to cry are you?

Nicole grew impatient with waiting for an explanation. "You know what your project could use, a bit of Ryder magic. . ."

Caitlin saw out of the corner of her eyes Nicole approaching her, no, approaching her canvas. That bitch is going to ruin my project!

Caitlin whirled around to grab Nicole. Nicole, not expecting a physical reaction, shoved Caitlin away, inadvertently grabbing a handful of Caitlin's breast in the process. Nicole's eyes went wide and she chuckled. "Wow, someone's been putting on weight. Didn't notice you had so much in there. Didja' get 'em done or something?"

The combination of Nicole's rather unflattering comments about her body and the intentions to deface her work had sent Caitlin from embarrassed to livid in record time. She lunged at Nicole, grabbing for her hair, but instead getting part of her ear and the edge of a piercing.

"OW!" Nicole shouted. "Let go you ox!" She responded by slapping Caitlin across the face.

There was a momentary silence as both Caitlin, Nicole, and a number of spectators were unsure of what would happen next. Caitlin's cheek was hot from the impact and she was embarrassed by the scene being made. Nicole was rubbing her ear, all the while spewing a streak of unbecoming comments about Caitlin under her breath. It wasn't long before Caitlin picked up "bimbo," "slut," "brainless," and a particular c-word that even she herself had never directed at anyone before.

"Excuse me?" Caitlin asked.

Nicole met her stare head on, though about a foot lower. "I called you a talentless, brainless, tits-for-brains, fake, bimbo, fu. . ."

Caitlin cut her off with a punch square in the face.

Everyone, including Caitlin was surprised this latest development. Nicole was floored, and spouting a whole new level of colorful profanity. The whole scenario was getting a bit out of hand for her taste. There was over an hour left in the class, and she figured this would be a good time to leave. Ignoring the gaping spectators, she abandoned her canvas, grabbed her box of art supplies and made a beeline for the door. She barely had time to notice the sudden increasing volume of Nicole's voice, and the crescendo of angry footsteps before she was pulled to the ground from behind by her hair and collar.

- - - - - - - -

In his twenty-plus years teaching art classes, Mr. Knightley had never had to break up a fight, and in his forty-plus years, he had never borne witness to such a scuffle.

He had been tending to another student on the opposite end of the room, when a number of yelps had caught his attention, which were followed by a rather loud crashing and the unmistakable sound of paint supplies being thrown about. By the time he had gathered his bearings and reached the source of the scuffle, he found two of his prize pupils on the ground in the midst of an ugly and frighteningly physical brawl.

"Whoa! Whoa! Stop!" He yelled in his best serious-teacher voice. The girls, however, showed no regard for his interference. He wasn't sure how to intervene and looked around at the students who were transfixed by the sight before them.

He set his sights on Dean, an all-area linebacker (who also had a gift for watercolor) and motioned for him to help separate the girls. Dean, a big man himself, took a moment to decide which girl would stand the least chance of making him look bad, the rather feral looking wiry one, or taller girl who nearly matched him in height.

"DEAN!" Knightley yelled in his direction again. "Help me here." Dean, hoping his choice wouldn't affect his grade somehow, wrapped his arms around Nicole to pry her off of Caitlin, whom Nicole had mounted and was ferociously scratching. Nicole reacted to her captor by kicking and writhing wildly and Caitlin took advantage of Nicole's being bound from behind by slapping her again before she was out of reach. Nicole's response was akin to a cat bursting out of a paper bag. The linebacker, caught off guard by a flurry of blows to his shins, loosened his grip and the girls were again tussling.

By this time, more students were attempting to intervene, but were having difficulty due to the girls' refusal to let go of each others' hair. In a last ditch effort, Nicole abandoned the hair strategy and reached for the bottom of Caitlin's shirt, yanking it and her bra up into Caitlin's face. This exposed a good deal of skin, and Caitlin immediately let go of Nicole's hair, only to have each of her arms grabbed by intervening students who were too preoccupied with attempts to restrain the girls to notice this recent development.

From his vantage point, Mr. Knightley could see the girls being separated, and had assumed the situation had been brought under control until he noticed a flurry of gestures from students at Caitlin. Assuming her injured, he rushed forward only to see that Caitlin writhing furiously with her arms restrained, her shirt and bra stuck over her face, and bare torso on display. He instinctively turned away, but then realized that he would have to be the responsible one, and motioned for the students to let go of her as he did his best to maneuver her shirt back down to provide her some degree of modesty.

Two students were dragging an enraged kicking and screaming Nicole out of the room. A student had volunteered to retrieve ice and band-aids for both girls, while other students returned to their work. Mr. Knightly led a sobbing, bleeding, and humiliated Caitlin into an empty classroom across the hall. He knew he'd eventually have to see that both girls made it to the principal, but for now, he did his best to console her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Caitlin shook her head no. There were tears streaming down her face and she was trying her best to control herself.

"Do you need something? Can I get you anything?"

She looked up at him painfully, and through her broken sobs, managed to choke out a reply that he was completely unprepared for.

"I'm really hungry."

The saga continues. . .

Chapter 9

After being given a half hour to cool off, both girls were escorted to the principal's office. They assured Mr. Knightley that they could peacefully cohabitate before he left them alone in the office to wait for Principal Gray. Caitlin, in the meantime, worked her way through the remains of a sub sandwich left on the office table from an earlier faculty meeting. Though Mr. Knightley had already offered her most of his own lunch, she could only pretend to be satisfied. She was still starving, and following Mr. Knightley's departure, she asked the secretary if there was any food, claiming she had run late and had no time to eat or pack a lunch.

Nicole alternated icing her ear and the bruise around her eye, but was soon distracted by her co-habitant's who had polished off a good foot and a half of a six-foot sub. Caitlin, seemingly in shock from the whole ordeal, stared forward silently, eating as relentlessly if in a trance. She was not particularly afraid of Principal Gray, and, if anything, found their occasional encounters to be a mere inconvenience. She let the silence hang in the air for a bit before she spoke up.

"Hey Landry." Caitlin said nothing. Nicole shut her eyes tightly and settled herself before she continued.

"I'm sorry."

Caitlin stopped chewing. "What?" She replied, not wanting to let her still full mouth drop open.

Nicole, still not making eye contact, twisted her mouth into a scowl and grudgingly repeated her apology. "Sorry. I figured I'd say it now before Rusty orders me say it. It probably won't mean much then."

Caitlin assumed Rusty was Nicole's nickname for Principal Gray, whose red hair was his only remotely interesting characteristic. Nicole was quite familiar with the man, and Caitlin had met him a few times when he commented on her "attire not suitable for a responsible young woman in a learning environment."

Caitlin finished her last swallow of the sandwich. "Thanks." She said. "Sorry about the eye."

Nicole chuckled. "Sorry? Don't apologize for that. That was the most bitchin' thing I've ever seen you do. Didn't think you had it in you."

Caitlin, to her surprise, half grinned. "Neither did I." She eyed the sandwich , pondering whether she should grab another segment. She waited a bit, noticing that the awkward silence was returning, so she grabbed another sandwich and dug in. Caitlin's uncharacteristic gluttony was not lost on Nicole, but she decided against commenting. This, however, left her with nothing to say. So they sat in silence while Caitlin worked her way through the sandwich.

"Is it just me or are you, like. . ."

"I grew six inches in the last three weeks." Caitlin finished, figuring the truth would be stranger than fiction at this point.

"Okay, that explains it." Nicole replied, unfazed by Caitlin's admission.

"You don't think that's weird?" Caitlin asked.

Nicole shrugged. "I used to have green eyes. I had a bad mushroom trip one night and the next morning my eyes were gold."
"That didn't freak you out?"

"I guess I just really wanted bright golden eyes. I saw them on TV a when I was younger and I thought they were the coolest thing ever. I guess chemical abuse was the kick my mind needed to get over the hump. Mind over matter you know. I told my mom they were contacts."

"So you're saying I just want to grow taller?"

"Do you?"

"No, not really. I can't honestly say that's a fantasy of mine."

Nicole shrugged. "Anyone cast a spell on you?"

"Not that I know of." Caitlin polished off the last bite of the sandwich and stopped chewing and turned to Nicole. "Unless, it was you. . ."

Nicole was slightly miffed by the accusation. "Even if I could, why the hell would I cast a spell on you?"

"I dunno," Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you hate my guts."

"I don't hate your guts."

"Yes you do!" Caitlin replied, stopping short of yelling and dropping to a quick whisper. "You just attacked me, like, half an hour ago!"

"Excuse me? If you recall, I believe you started the little scuffle."

"You were going wreck my project?"

"I was going to make a few suggestions! I hadn't seen you ever do anything like that before and you looked like you could use some suggesti. . . ." Nicole narrowed her eyes. "Are you sweating?"

"You aren't hot? It's boiling in here." Caitlin wiped beads of sweat away from her forehead.

"Uh. . . it's probably sixty-five degrees at the most." You running a fever or something? Maybe you're sick. You just ate, like, three feet of a sandwich."

Caitlin froze. She thought of the last two times she ate that quantity of food and the events that immediately followed. Oh no. Not again. Please God not again. The last two times she had been unconscious (for one reason or another) and woken up taller. This time, however, she didn't feel tired. If anything, she felt like she'd just drank a quintuple espresso with extra sugar. For all she knew she was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"I need to get out of here." Caitlin said aloud, to no one in particular.

"Uh, I don't think that's gonna happen. We're, kind of, in trouble."

"I can't stay here." I need to go."

Nicole was about to protest when she noticed a familiar silhouette outside the office door. She darted over to the faculty room table and grabbed one of the remaining pieces of sub sandwich, ignoring the accusatory glance of the secretary. She got back to her seat just as Principal Gray entered the office. She shoved the sandwich toward Caitlin.

"Eat this. If he asks you anything, play stupid. Follow my lead. I'll have us, or at least you, out of here in three minutes tops. "

Caitlin wanted to reply, but before she could Mr. Gray entered the office and she obediently set to work on the sandwich. Mr. Gray examined the cuts, bruises, and scratches on both girls before shaking his head in disbelief and ushering them into his office.

Contrary to the stereotype, Principal Gray was not the prototypical hard-nosed disciplinarian. A young man in his early thirties he had taken the job as high school principal after teaching political science at a state college. While generally a kind, empathetic man, he had little success socially in college, focusing mainly on his academic pursuits. His years of postgraduate experience had done wonders for the school's academic reputation in the past two years, but dealing with discipline problems of this magnitude was completely foreign to him.

Mr. Gray was a bit surprised by the two young women who both, for different reasons, seemed more apt to be found on a college campus than a high school one. The heavily pierced girl, whom he had encountered before, had poise and outspokenness typically found in college campus protests than in a high school classrooms. The second girl's demeanor clearly characterized her as a run-of-the-mill indignant teenager with more attitude than self-confidence. However, her long, lithe body was definitely not the norm for most high school students. Her clothes, which appeared to be slightly undersized, exaggerated her alluring curves almost cartoonishly. The scene was made all the more surreal by her wolfing down the remains of a sub sandwich in a rather unladylike manner.

Mr. Gray cleared his throat and did his best to hide his discomfort. "Ladies, I must say I'm shocked by the report I've gotten from Mr. Knightley."

"What was your report Mr. Gray?" Nicole interrupted suddenly. "I'm curious, what exactly transpired in his art class according to your 'report'?"

"Ms. Ryder, I was hoping you could tell me, from your perspective, how this whole ordeal happened."
Nicole seemed unfazed by his supposed position of authority. "No, no, sir. I'm curious what your 'report' of the 'ordeal' says." Nicole punctuated mockingly with air quotes, which slightly annoyed Mr. Gray.

"Nicole." Mr. Gray said sternly. "I am asking you politely to tell me what happened in Mr. Knightley's art class."

"He sat behind his desk while we painted." Nicole explained. "He also occasionally offered his aid to each of us on our final projects. When it was appropriate, he addressed the class as a whole regarding information pertinent to our art education."
Mr. Gray was doing his best to hide his frustration, but was having some difficulty. "Nicole, I would like you to describe the circumstances of your altercation with Ms. Landry."

"Principal Gray, are you implying that if there were some altercation between Caitlin and I that we are incapable of resolving it ourselves?"

"Ms. Landry?" He turned to Caitlin, anxious to stop the escalating showdown with Nicole. "Now that you're done with your meal, perhaps you can shed some light on this whole ordeal."

Caitlin, who seemed equally unwilling to offer her input, had zoned out the entire conversation to this point. She was clearly distracted by something which Mr. Gray was having a hard time putting his finger on. While he wanted to press his questioning of her further, he was becoming slightly distracted by her attempts at folding her arms, as Caitlin was having some difficulty maneuvering her arms adequately around her breasts.

"Ms. Landry!" Principal Gray spoke up.

"What?" Caitlin looked up with an odd mix of shock and annoyance. For a moment they just stared at one another. Mr. Gray was struck by something odd. He could have sworn that only moments ago she had a scratch on her left cheek, but now there appeared to be nothing more than a slightly reddened area below her cheekbone. If it wasn't for the tousled hair, he would have a hard time believing that the fight was nearly as physical as he had initially assessed.

"Could you please provide your side of the story regarding your altercation with Ms. Ryder." He asked, politely, trying to gain some control over the situation.

"Um. . ." Caitlin began, though as opposed to Nicole, she genuinely seemed to be having difficulty recalling anything. Nicole sighed exasperatedly and made a show of looking as bored as possible. Caitlin shifted in her chair and rubbed her head. "I'm sorry. Just give me a sec." Nicole rolled her eyes as Caitlin wiped a thin layer of perspiration from her forehead.

"Take your time Caitlin. I just want to . . "

"Mr. Gray, honestly, why the f**k are we here?" Nicole chimed in. "We've been having this little conversation for a few minutes now and I'm curious why our valuable finals week time is being spent in your office."

Principal Gray intended to reply to Nicole's unbecoming language for an educational environment, when he was still distracted by Caitlin, whose apparent discomfort was becoming more and more obvious. She had discarded her sandals and gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. She grunted softly, arched her back, and opened her mouth in an expression of either shock or pain, though he couldn't quite tell which. He wanted to say something, but his eyes were drawn to her breasts which jutted forward due to her posture and the tightness of her shirt. Nicole, in the meantime was continuing her rant.

". . . and for some reason, there's this presumption on the part of teachers around here that young women aren't capable of working out own personal matters without the interference of supposed 'authority figures' who, in all honesty, have little to no comprehension of the concerns of today's youth."

At this point, Nicole's words were like a drone in the background as Principal Gray continued to be transfixed on Caitlin who had yet to make a sound but, was clearly having some kind of problem. He tried to recall any uniquely female problems that she could be having at the moment and considered possibly calling the nurse. He had nearly resolved reach for the phone, when something completely unusual happened.

Caitlin's eyes opened wide and she shuddered, still leaning forward, as if a powerful chill were running through her body. The sounds of straining fabric became audible (even over the sound of Nicole's unabated sermon) as Mr. Gray noticed the "Abercrombie" text on her shirt shift subtly, albeit visibly, as if--he couldn't believe what he was thinking--she were outgrowing her clothes right in front of his eyes. He couldn't tell if she was in pain or not since her hair obscured his full view of her face. The small wrinkles where her thighs seemed to be filling in any remaining space in her jeans, and with every heaving breath her clothes shifted around her tense body. With one final convulsive breath, she exhaled loudly and the button of her pants softly sprang loose. Principal Gray 's eyes boggled with shock and disbelief.

"Indeed!" Nicole was shouting now, wild eyed and nearly standing. "Yes! I am accusing you of sexism sir! Don't look so surprised. I know your type!"

The feeling having seemingly passed, Caitlin abruptly sat back in her chair, her labored breathing setting her now more substantial chest into motion. Principal Gray felt as if she were visibly bigger, no, taller than she was even a minute ago. He searched for signs that it was all in his head but now that she was sitting up, he could see that her pants, formerly a bit loose around the hips, were now tautly gripping her legs and stressing the button at her waist. The bottom hem of her shirt had crept up slightly, and combined with the apparent enlarging of her breasts, now rose away from her skin with every rapid intake of breath. Her shirt, which had been slightly undersized before, now constricted her torso so tightly that fabric bunched under her arms and the outline of her now too-small bra could be seen through her shirt. Principal Gray was mesmerized and Nicole chose to capitalize on this moment.

"Mr. Gray? With all due respect, I'm over here not on Caitlin's chest."

Shocked back into reality, he looked up at both girls, embarrassed, perplexed, and a bit frightened. His mouth hung open, but he couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone sentence, if he tried. Nicole was growing impatient with his silence, and Caitlin appeared to be momentarily confused, as if still completely oblivious to her recent changes. Mr. Gray's face was pale and he had broken into a cold sweat. His mouth hung open and he rose from his seat to excuse himself.

"Thank you ladies." He said, standing but not making eye contact either of them. "I have need . . . to . . . bathroom. Then home. Class. . .tomorrow." His leg collided with the corner of his desk but he didn't seem to notice.

"What?" Both girls replied, confused.

"You're excused." He said, not looking back as he shuffled like a zombie out of his office. They could hear the secretary try to get his attention.

"Mr. Gray. You have a message from. . .Mr. Gray? Sir?

"Tomorrow Stacy." He said to her abruptly, as he left the office and headed home uncharacteristically early.
The secretary watched the office door shut, then looked into Principal Gray's office where both girls still sat opposite his desk. There was a pause, before Nicole spoke up.

"Can we go now?"