I hate Mondays. I especially hate the first Monday of classes. And I most especially hate the first Monday of classes when there's a church group having one of their "breakfast baptisms" in the Union. Mind you, they've got as much right to be there as I do. Probably more, considering the laws we've got right now. But the food is bad enough; I don't need sermons making it worse.
As I entered the Union's cafeteria, I idly fingered the tag on my left ear, feeling the embosseed 'U' under my fingertips. I wondered how long it would take someone to take exception to my being in close proximity to them. It's never taken long. And eating breakfast in a public place and using public facilities is somehow the surest way to bring it on.
As I was getting my breakfast, I heard a familiar voice behind me. "G'morning, Alex!"
I turned around and smiled a greeting at Shannon. She was, as always, dressed up for the occasion: long skirt, sweater, new hairstyle, heels. I noticed the bandaid over her left earlobe. "You just pierce yourself again?" It's an old joke; the tag is small enough to cover with a bandaid, and having a freshly pierced ear is a good excuse for it.
She smiled. "And you, obviously, are going for the political statement."
I looked down at my attire. "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" T-shirt, faded blue jeans, worn-out boots, my ever-present purple cardigan, three sizes too big (and guaranteed not to shred if I changed in it; I bought it for just that reason), black leather collar. I shrugged. "Never hurts to get an early start."
She sighed. "You know, you'd have more friends if you didn't go waving it under people's noses."
I grabbed a bagel and headed for the register. "I'm sorry, Shannon. I'd rather have three real friends that know and don't care than thirty that didn't know and would leave if they did. I don't know how you manage to put up with the emotional crunch every time someone finds out the truth and says 'don't ever talk to me again.'"
She shrugged, following me. "You get used to it, I guess. Then again, I didn't have what you had happen." I lost my first boyfriend when he rolled over in bed and the bandaid on my ear came loose, exposing the tag. I woke up to a note that said "You lied to me. Don't ever call me again. I'll hunt you down like the dog you are." Not that I'm a dog, mind you, or even a wolf for that matter. But I understood. In hindsight, I'm sure his discovery that he'd been dating a therianthrope for three weeks and not knowing must've been hard to handle. I've gotten over the death threat. It's the 'don't ever call' line that hurt the most. I never even got a chance to explain to him how I felt. Or how I feared exactly what happened would happen. Or how I wanted so much to just have a normal relationship that I was willing to lie, that he might come to love me despite my condition. I tried. Oh, how I tried. I would get two or three words out of my mouth, and he would hang up. Turn away. Walk off. Just write me out of his frame of reference. As far as he was concerned, I didn't exist. Unfortunately, I've never gotten the reverse to work.
The lady at the register looked at me, then at my tray. Punching a few buttons, she looked back up at me. "Six-thirty, please."
I looked at my stuff, the same thing I've gotten every Monday for the past three semesters. I checked the price-board: no changes. "It was five-eighty-five last week."
She rechecked the register, and in her best I'm-so-sorry-not voice said, "I'm sorry, sir. I hit the wrong key. You're correct."
I passed over exact change. As she reached up to take the note from me, I growled softly and she jerked her hand back. I set the money down on the counter and said, "You know, just because I don't always have fingers doesn't mean I can't count." I grabbed my tray and stormed over to a table, Shannon behind me.
As we moved from the serving lines into the seating area, the prayer meeting suddenly turned quiet, seeing me. After a heartbeat, it picked back up, and the tone was somehow changed. I considered getting a seat next to them to see if they were talking about me, but opted instead for one near the door; no need to antagonise the natives yet. Shannon grabbed the chair opposite me as I sat down. I dug in, and for a minute there was silence between us. Then I said, "I'm sorry. The lady just pissed me off."
She shrugged. "I hate to say it, Alex, but you brought it on yourself."
I looked up at her, probably with bagel crumbs in my beard. "Oh, now don't you start too--"
She cut me off. "No, Alex. I'm serious. You're a CS major. You tell the machine what to do, and not knowing any better, it does what you tell it. But I'm the psych around here. You're wearing a shirt designed to irritate most normal people. You can hardly be mistaken for someone else at 6'4" and that awful sweater you wear every day of the year. And you brazenly display your registration tag, inviting other people to comment. She reacted in typical ape fashion -- she tested you. You pushed her hot button, and she jumped. If you don't want people jumping, don't deliberately antagonise them. If you want to push boundaries, don't be surprised when people do what they do. Besides, did you ever consider that maybe she did just make a mistake?"
I sighed. "You're right. And it's sad that I have to be reminded of that. I can't just get along any more. I'm not like you, Shannon. I never had the friends to lose. And the few I did have survived the exposure. I can't go through life trying to ignore a basic truth about myself."
She gave me her patented 'don't-shit-me' look. "Oh please, Alex. Who said anything about ignoring truths about yourself? I'm saying that you'll do more good to yourself and those around you by hiding the tag and acting slightly less feral for one or two days, to let people meet the real you, than you will if all anyone ever gets to see is Alex the bear, and they never have a chance to know who you are. All they'll see is the label. And they'll never learn."
I shrugged. "I'm not up to playing emotional wetnurse to a bunch of apes that can't handle having a different animal around them. That's your job; you enjoy that routine." She grinned.
"Hey, dog-boy!"
The voice unknown, the words unexpected, I turned around sharply in the direction of the call. Three guys in what I'd've called "jock prep" in my high school days. Football junkies out of uniform. Sigh. Here we go again. When they saw I turned my head, they laughed.
Shannon put a hand on my arm. "Leave it, Alex. They're not worth it."
I went back to my breakfast, when the jokes started. "How do you spot a werewolf at the prom? He's dating the family dog!" "What's the fastest way to make a werewolf change shape? Moon him!" "Why is it so hard to insult a werewolf? They really are sons of bitches!" All the same jokes I heard in high school.
I shouted over to them, "Hey, if you've got to be insulting, at least be imaginative. Or would you feel more at home throwing shit at your opponents?"
That shut them up quick, and they walked over to the table. Shannon just looked at me and shook her head. "I'm going to class. I'll see you after class." She stood up, and was leaving when one of the neanderthals walked in front of her. "'scuse me, ma'am, but I couldn't help wondering if your name might not be Hood, in search of a woodsman." He grinned at his own wit, which I must admit was rather clever, if inaccurate.
She looked up at him; Shannon's not that tall. "No, and no. And I do have class right now, thanks. Unlike some." And she walked off.
Which, of course, left the three of them to concentrate on me. "So, dog-boy, you don't think we're imaginative enough for you? That's pretty funny, coming from something that evolution skipped over."
I looked up from my breakfast. "I don't have to take this crap from a pack of hairless apes. Go find some gorillas to intimidate."
One of the bozos made the mistake of leaning down over me, trying to intimidate me. "Listen, dog-boy. Do I have to put you on a leash and take you to obedience school so that you know your place?"
I looked up at him. And I smiled. I've put work into this smile. This is not supposed to be a polite smile. This smile suggests that I'd rather be putting my teeth into his neck, not in front of his eyes. And it works, very very well. Especially when I growl very softly to go with it.
The one leaning over me backed up a notch, and I knew the mental battle was over. Now for the physical. Having won the contest of wills, at least one of them was bound to try something dumb. Inwardly, I sighed. Why do people always do things the hard way?
I stood up, pushing back my chair and grabbing my bag. "It's been an enlightening morning, gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse me..." I moved to walk past, when one of them grabbed me by the shoulder and said "We're not done yet--"
He never got a chance to finish. Unlike some people, the shift for me is pretty much instantaneous. And the cardigan serves to cover me while I'm headed someplace to put on more clothes. That, I think, is the worst part of being a therianthrope: the clothing bills get exorbitant fast if you're not careful.
With an ease borne of practice, I shifted into my half-form, ignoring the pain in my ear from the metal tag. I felt the initial itching, followed by the burning sensations of fur growing to cover skin, hands forming into partial paws with opposable thumb, face stretching to create muzzle, nose darkening, ears sliding back and up, and tail sprouting forth from just above buttocks. In one motion, I turned, tossed my bag aside, and with one paw lifted and pinned the kid to the wall, exerting just enough pressure with my claws to pierce his clothes but not to damage the skin. Also unlike many weres, I've practiced speech in my half-form enough to make myself understood, with some difficulty. "Yes. We. Are."
I grabbed my bag in one paw, dropped the annoyance to the ground, grabbed the remains of my clothes, and slowly walked out of the now-silent cafeteria. So much for having a smooth start to the semester.
West Wing Calliope's Private Chambers
East Wing Torture Chamber, Prison
