Chapter 12

Sometimes, you can't win. Angel got home at an unreasonably early hour (for a summer Friday night party), got right to bed, and still woke up feeling like she had spent the night in the business end of a street sweeper.

She dragged herself out of bed and went through her morning routine. 87 hours later, give or take a lifetime, she was clean, dressed, groomed, and on her way to breakfast. She started pulling things out of the fridge and cupboards, until she saw her mother standing in the doorway, looking at her funny. Following the shift of her eyes, Angel looked at the table.

It wasn't just the pickles and butter brickle ice cream that caught her attention. It was the whole mismatched cornucopia that filled the table.

Angel shook her head to clear it, then turned sheepishly to face her mother again.

"Is there something I should know?" her mother asked wryly, picking up the pickle jar.

"Um ... My ride should be picking me up in about 20 minutes?" Angel tried. When her mother just kept looking at her, she caught on. And blushed.

"Nothing like that! I just overextended myself or something yesterday." She did a quick scan of herself, verifying that there was nothing there that didn't belong.

Her mother chuckled. "Why don't you take a moment to figure out what you really want for breakfast. It would take a lot more than 20 minutes to eat all of that."

Angel went inside herself, and got an impression of what she really needed. Then, she went to another part of herself, and looked for foods that would give her combinations of those needs, rather than trying for one per food. She quickly settled on a smoothie, a spinach and ham omelet, and some toast.

Her mother made the omelet while she put things away and made the drink. She was just about finished eating, when her eCom announced a call. Her ride would be there in five minutes. She bolted down the rest of her food, then went to get the boxes of "his" clothes.

She was just putting the last one on the porch, when the company van pulled up. Mandy helped her load the boxes, said hello and goodbye to Angel's mother, and got them on the road.

Angel noticed that Mandy seemed to have come to terms with her secret. Or at least, she was acting much the way she had before Angel told her. She told Angel that she wanted to get back relatively early, since her older daughter, Chris, had a dance recital that evening.

Angel smiled, and acknowledged that. With luck, she should be done with her inspection in a couple of hours. Mandy's audit would take longer, even with Angel's probable need to write up a report. Her business with the swap shop should not delay them.

The theater was literally across the street from the university. Mandy told her that it was almost entirely staffed by university students. Even the manager was a grad student. During the summer, they picked up a few local high school students, but not many.

The manager seemed a little nervous to have them there, but not hostile. And for a change, he was mostly concerned with Mandy. It sort of made sense to Angel. Mandy was more like a senior professor, there to grade him on the paperwork. Angel was more like someone there to check on the work of the other employees. He was nice, and not at all condescending, but he was not all that concerned with her.

Angel got busy. She checked the restrooms first, for the usual reasons. After noting a few problem spots, she moved on to the concessions stand. While there was nothing disastrous, she saw what seemed to be a pattern. It was as though the employees were doing just enough to get by. Not so much laziness as a lack of urgency. They got the important stuff, and left the rest until it started getting bad enough to become important.

She documented the problem spots, and noted that none of them posed an immediate threat to customers or workers. By then, the doors were opening and families were streaming in for the early matinees. Angel checked the theaters, working around the active children and harried adults, and noted the same pattern as before.

Finally, she checked the service areas and storage. She was surprised to find that the things in storage were arranged a little differently. She made a note to ask about that. It looked to her like that arrangement would be more efficient in the long run.

She also made a note to mention the smell and residue of two distinct kinds of smoke in one of the supply closets. She had nothing against smoking either tobacco or pot, but the chain had policies about such things.

She finished her inspection, and quickly wrote up most of her report. Then she went looking for the manager. She found him in his office, sweating bullets as Mandy went through the books. He seemed to welcome the distraction when she asked him about the arrangement of stored supplies.

She didn't quite follow his description of the analyses that went into it, but the bottom line was that it was a lot more efficient. She also quietly suggested that he get his people to find somewhere else to smoke, and do a thorough wipe down of that closet. She assured him that those observations wouldn't make it into her report, but the efficiency would.

She finished her report and sent it. Then she went to find Mandy. Mandy estimated that she had another one and a half to two hours worth of work left to do. Angel borrowed the keys from Mandy, and went to deal with her old clothes. In theory, it should be a simple process.

After it became obvious that some cases of MORFS resulted in gender swaps and major body modifications, an enterprising young MORF got an idea. People were spending fortunes on new wardrobes, and thrift stores and consignment shops were getting flooded with clothes. At the time, the government imposed dress codes were still in effect, so families had little choice. It was a significant need, just waiting to be met.

She had spent a lot of time in used book stores, and decided to try applying that business model to the clothing situation. Recent morfs would bring in their old wardrobes, which would be evaluated for currency, condition, and cost. The evaluators would allocate credits, which could then be used to buy clothes more appropriate to the customer's new condition. The clothes would then be carefully inspected and cleaned, then tagged and racked for sale. Those garments which did not meet their standards for salability were donated to a thrift store or the like.

Everything from tuxedoes and formals to shorts and t-shirts were available. In addition, the stores offered some new items, from underwear (which they did not resell) to shirts and such. They even offered tailoring services. People who suddenly gained or lost size, appendages (such as tails or wings), or gender could start their new wardrobes while getting some advantage from their old ones.

Angel was surprised to notice that there were a lot more racks of female clothes than male clothes. But after a little thought, it made sense. For starters, girls tended to have larger wardrobes than guys. And then there was the simple fact that people with changes similar to hers could use more of their old wardrobes - especially t-shirts and sometimes shorts - than the female to male transformees, and the more fitted female garments were less likely to fit after significant body changes than their male equivalents.

This worked to her advantage. She got more credits for her relatively uncommon boy clothes, and had more choices when using those credits. And since people were morfing every day, new and current stuff was coming in all the time.

Savvy shoppers knew about that, and regularly checked the stock. Even though many of them were paying with money rather than store credits, girls and women could get designer dresses and the like for discount off the rack prices. This also gave closet morfs, like Angel, cover when they went in to use their credits. She just had to be careful when she took things in to get the credits.

The popular shops were widespread. Some rivals had started up, but they couldn't compete with the widely usable - and transferable - credits. The founder retired a wealthy woman, but still acted as a spokeswoman for the chain.

While Angel was waiting for her credits to be tallied, she looked around. She found a business suit in her size, which was appropriate for her in her manager role. She also found a couple of skirts that she had almost bought during earlier shopping trips, but had decided were too expensive. She tried everything on, and all but one skirt fit well.

While she was looking, she found a few nice things with wing slits in the back. Unfortunately, they were all distinctly feminine.

That done, she went to check on her credits. They were not as much as she had secretly hoped, but they covered her choices with as much again left over. Plenty for the promised mother daughter shopping.

Angel carefully hung her new things in the van, then went back to the theater to check on Mandy's progress.

Mandy was giving the manager a large dose of bad news/good news. The good news was that things largely added up, and there was no evidence of wrongdoing. The bad news was that the paperwork was sloppy, and that certain government types could come down on his head like a ton of bricks for some of it. She put it in terms he would be sure to understand, likening it to professors with their own particular ways of doing things, and their ability to lower the grades of students who tried doing things differently.

She gave him a reasonable time to get it all in order, after which someone would be there to check it out.

On the way home, Mandy expressed the opinion that he would be leaving the chain as soon as he graduated. "His heart is just not in it. It's just a job to him, not a career."

That got Angel thinking about her own career plans. Or rather, her lack of any. She was still no closer to knowing what to do with her life than she had been the last few times the issue came up. In fact, the visit from the mysteriously absent Ms. Wilson had closed off some of her possible directions.

She was pretty sure that she did not want to spend her life working for the movie chain. It was a good job, with very nice perks, but it just didn't feel like a career. In that way, she was probably a lot like that manager.

They passed the time on the way back with small talk. Mandy told her about the company gossip and about her family, and Angel told her about the party.

When Mandy dropped her off at home, Angel was met at the door by her mother. After a brief hello, Angel showed her the clothes and the credit voucher.

Her mother told her that she was on her way out to do some shopping at the mall, and invited her along. When Angel declined, pleading tiredness, she saw her mother's face drop. She knew that shopping was a big thing for her mother, and something that she hoped to share with her new daughter. It still wasn't high on Angel's list of recreational activities, though.

On the other hand, her mother had been so supportive through the whole thing. She hated to disappoint her. So she offered a compromise. If she could wait a bit, giving Angel time for a snack and a brief nap, she would go along. Her mother smiled and agreed.

So Angel found herself at the mall. With her mother. Shopping.

She understood the need for some of what she used to think of as excessive shopping. It was dumb the way the same size clothes, from different makers, would fit so differently. And it was even worse with bras and such.

She could even understand it as a social activity. She had enjoyed some of her previous expeditions with new friends and longtime relatives. But it wasn't really the shopping for her. The shopping was just something to do as part of the main activity of hanging out together. There was a little of that in the trip with her mom, but not all that much.

She liked being with her mother. There was no question about that. She liked doing things with her. But the shopping was a whole other thing. And it reminded her too much of the lessons. Especially of the time with the shoe salesman.

This time, when they were looking at shoes, she made it a point to push her skirt down between her legs when she sat for a fitting. Her mother knew what she was doing and why, and was amused.

As had been the case with the girls, Angel found herself enjoying her mother's company. She wasn't really there to buy anything, and she didn't have any real plans for the evening, so she didn't feel as stressed as she often had. Her mother had her try some things on, commenting on how they would - or did - look on her. More often, she would hold her mother's purse while watching her try on things. It was not exciting, but it was companionable.

In the end, Angel got out with a blouse, a pair of shoes that she didn't expect to wear much, and a couple of books she had been wanting. It took three large bags for her mother's purchases. Toward the end, she commented about the fact that she was the one carrying those bags.

"Of course, dear. That's the way it works." Her mother grinned. "If you don't have a man with you to act as porter, you bring a teenager for the job."

Angel rolled her eyes, and schlepped the bags out to the car.

When they got home, her father told them that Dr. Baker had called. He wanted to apologize for putting Angel through what Ms. Wilson had done, so he invited her family out to dinner again.

After a brief family conference, she decided to accept. She called him back and told him, and they made arrangements.

She called David's house, to satisfy her curiosity. First, she asked his father whether he had finished researching the AMA agreement. He said that it would take a few more days. She thanked him, then spoke to David.

She asked what she had missed at the party. While it had continued for a few hours after she left, nothing particularly special had happened. Flo left shortly after she had, all but dragged away by her parents. Her objection had raised a minor tsunami in the pool. After that, people drifted away in ones and twos. The cleanup had been relatively easy.

He verified that he had been the one who provided the gold for the party pins. He also told her that he was working on doing engraving in addition to the images, as well as expanding the kinds of materials he could put images on. From one of her functions at the party, she suggested he consider working on tattoos as well. He liked the idea.

They ended the call, and she put down her eCom. She took her tablet, and used it to check her emails and then play a few games.

She got a call on her eCom, from a name she didn't recognize. Once she accepted it, she quickly saw that the mysterious Mrs. Berman was the mother of Kerry and Terry, from the incident at the mall. They exchanged greetings, and then her caller seemed to get a little nervous.

"I thought about what you said, and talked it over with my husband. Would you still be willing to come over and look at the girls in your special way?" She seemed to second guess the way she had said that, and blushed. She tried to sputter an apology, but Angel waved it away.

"Of course. How are they doing?"

"They seem to have recovered from what happened. They consider the three of you heroes, the way you rescued them from those ... people." She all but spat that last word. "In fact, they would like a chance to thank the three of you. Do you think you and the others could come over this evening?"

"I don't see why not." Angel smiled. She gave her the numbers for Sherry and Robin, and got the address from her.

When she told her parents about the call, her mother volunteered to drive her. She admitted to a certain curiosity about the twins and their mother, after Angel's earlier descriptions. Angel got ready, and soon they were off.

It took about twenty minutes to get to their house, during which they talked about the trivia of their lives. On their way back, they would be picking up some take out for dinner.

For the last block, they found themselves followed by a familiar car. Both cars parked, and Sherry and Robin joined Angel and her mother. They got halfway up the walk before the door slammed open and they were swarmed by two enthusiastic bundles of energy.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" they burbled, alternating enthusiastic hugs among their three rescuers.

"Girls!" warned a familiar voice. The girls quieted - a little - and became a little more formal and a lot more comprehensible.

"Thank you for coming." Kerry said, with a huge smile spoiling her attempt at formality.

"And thank you very much for rescuing us!" Terry added, enthusiastically.

A laughing Sherry replied "You're welcome. It was our pleasure."

During that exchange, Angel was taking in information about the girls. Terry was infected, seemingly by the same virus that Kerry carried. She was running about a day behind her sister, and Angel would have to work a little harder to understand her likely outcome.

Kerry was easier to read now. Angel got the feeling that her subconscious had digested the original information about their genetic structure, and had started on the new information. It was apparently going to be a bit of a mixed bag for her - nothing too bad, but nothing much in the way of powers.

The girls all but dragged the trio inside, trailed by an amused mother. Mrs. Berman met them at the door, introducing herself to Angel's mother and introducing the four of them to her husband.

Mr. Berman was a large man, with obvious muscles, and purple hair, eyebrows, and moustache. Angel could see that parts of his build, along with the colorful hair, were the results of MORFS. By most measures, he was completely human.

He was also very friendly, and very grateful for their rescue of his daughters.

While Sherry and Robin kept the girls busy - and vice versa - Angel and Mrs. Berman found an excuse to go into the kitchen by themselves for a moment.

"I'll need to look more carefully, but I can tell you some things. Terry is infected now, and is running about a day behind Kerry." she shrugged apologetically. "I will need a better look to see much more about Terry, but I can give you a pretty good idea about Kerry's outcome."

"Go on," their mother urged, sinking into a chair and gesturing an invitation toward another chair.

Angel sat, and continued, in a low voice. "She will apparently only have one major change. She will grow wings and be able to fly. Beyond that, she will be a little larger and stronger, particularly her chest and tail, and her hair and fur will change color. That's about it. I don't see her developing any special powers or problems. I suspect that she'll have to endure some lame Wizard of Oz jokes from some of the other kids, but other than that..." she shrugged.

"Are you sure... ?"

"I've only had this ability a few months, so it's entirely possible that I have missed some details. But the bottom line is that they both should be ok. A little different physically, but ok."

Their mother slumped with relief. "When?"

"Kerry should start getting symptoms tomorrow, probably in the afternoon. Terry should follow on Monday. If you can get them both clinic appointments for Monday, it should work out fine. Kerry will have an extra half day of feeling lousy, but it's not an emergency."

They went back out into the living room, carrying trays with drinks for everyone. When Angel had gotten a good read on Terry, she started noticing the two of them together. And noticed something she had missed. She helped take the empty glasses out to the kitchen, as an excuse for another conference.

"They have twin telepathy!" Angel was quiet, but insistent. "It's not very strong now, but the change will reinforce it. Have you noticed?"

"All twins seem to have something like that." their mother replied. "But in most cases it is just from being close and in synch. Not really telepathy. I got suspicious enough a few years ago that I looked it up. I was never really sure about it, though."

"Well, now you know. Terry looks like she is going to be pretty much the same as her sister. Her hair and fur may be a different color, I'm not sure. But she will have something extra. It seems to have something to do with the telepathy, but I just can't see it well enough to bring it into focus. It will be fairly weak, but she may learn to use it well anyway."

When they returned, Mr. Berman gave them a concerned look. His wife took him aside and quietly reassured him. When they returned, Angel's mother started making noises about having taken enough of their time, and how nice it was to meet them. As the older girls got ready to leave, the Bermans offered to reward them. The only reward they would accept were hugs from the girls, which were freely and enthusiastically given.

Back in the car, Angel's mother had a little bit of a smug expression playing about her lips.

"Ok," Angel demanded. "what's with the expression?"

"Expression?"

"Oh, pleeease, Mother." Angel had learned more than public mannerisms during her training.

Her mother was a little startled by how thoroughly that response projected a teenaged girl.

"Oh, all right." She conceded. "While you two were in the kitchen, their father brought up the issue of rewards. Not just for the rescue, but for the readings. I assured him that you wouldn't accept anything more than something like those hugs. All of you."

"Aha!" Angel used her mock-sinister voice. "You've fallen into our trap, thinking you can predict our every move."

They laughed and talked all the way to the restaurant, and then all the way home.

That night, Angel went to bed with a smile on her face. Something that had been altogether too rare over the last few months.

When she went down to breakfast the next morning, her folks were discussing some plans for the day. Apparently, they had heard about a restaurant that had an excellent Sunday Brunch for a relatively reasonable price, not too far from the theater Angel would be inspecting. They offered to pick her up when she was done with the theater, then take her out from there.

She accepted, and after a quick bite to stave off starvation, went to get ready. When Mandy got there, Angel filled her in on their plans. She thought it was a great idea. So good, in fact, that she called her husband and suggested something similar. They knew a place somewhat closer to home, and somewhat better suited to their young children. She would call when she was done, then meet them there.

They hit the theater like a tornado, anxious to get their jobs done well, but quickly. Angel found signs of the theater's age, and human limitations, but no incipient disasters. The restrooms, concessions, and vents showed clear signs of having gotten the benefits of her earlier reports. She did find a quarter case of expired snacks in one of the store rooms, but learned that a couple of the younger employees had claimed them for an upcoming party. There was no danger from them, other than a slightly stale taste or texture, and the case was well away from the others.

After that reassurance, and a quick look through the stock in concessions itself, she decided that there was no need to include it in her report. When the manager learned of her decision, he looked relieved.

When she started writing her report, she eCom'd her parents and let them know she was nearly done. They told her they were on their way. Her report was as thorough as ever, but relatively short and quickly done. There just wasn't all that much to say.

After she sent the copies, she let Mandy and the manager know she was done and thumbed out. When she got outside, her parents were pulling up in front of the theater. She commented on the timing, and they admitted that they had arrived a little earlier and parked the car where they could see inside the theater. When they saw her get ready to leave, they pulled out of the spot and drove to where she met them. They assured her that they had not waited long.

The Sunday brunch was buffet style, with certain dishes prepared to order and most simply available at will. They were shown to a table, and their waitress briefly explained procedures. Moments later, they were standing at the buffet, loading their plates.

Fresh from work, Angel was still half in inspection mode. She absently noted the levels of biological activity in various foods there, most well within safe levels.

Most.

She spotted something alarming, just in time to stop her father from reaching for it. One of the sauces - she didn't notice the name - was seething with activity. And not just some common food contamination. It hadn't grown there, or in any of the ingredients. It had been added. And recently.

Perhaps more alarmingly, it was not anything she recognized. She just knew that it was dangerously virulent.

Angel's father fetched the manager, and explained the situation. She immediately removed the sauce and started quietly questioning the serving staff. One of them brought out a new pot of the sauce, and it was uncontaminated. The manager invited Angel and her family to visit the kitchen, as though she was giving a VIP tour.

Angel had to give her credit, she thought quickly on her feet. Once they were in the kitchen, she asked to see Angel's ID. She nodded thoughtfully when she saw the theater card. She went on to explain that her brother in law worked for the chain, and had heard of Angel. And had discussed her, and a lot of other theater gossip, with the family.

Having ascertained Angel's identity, she asked if she would do a quick check of the kitchen, to see if there was any more contamination. Angel agreed, and while she was doing so the manager took pains to secure the tainted sauce. Angel's parents returned to their meal, for appearances sake.

As she expected, Angel found no signs of the contamination in any of the food preparation or storage areas. It was clear that the stuff was added at the buffet itself. Angel found two dirty plates with signs of the contaminant, but one of them seemed to have picked it up from the other. They were also secured as potential evidence.

At that point the police arrived. Showing, in Angel's opinion, more than usual tact, they arrived through the kitchen door rather than through the dining room.

The only other sign of the contamination she found was on the wrist of the manager, where a little of the sauce had landed when she handled it. Angel decontaminated that, before it would have a chance to enter the woman's body.

Angel learned that a nondescript man had been the last to serve himself from that sauce. About the time the sauce was being removed, he paid his bill and left. He paid in cash, leaving a small tip.

While clearly considering him a suspect, the cops decided to treat him as a possible victim. That gave them more room to act. They took Angel's statement, confirmed her ID, and thanked her.

The manager's thanks were more emphatic, and more concrete. Not only was brunch on the house for her family, but she gave Angel a business card with a note on the back. It essentially allowed her family to dine there free for the rest of her life.

While they were still a little shaken by the event, Angel and her family did their best to enjoy their food. And when they left, her father made it a point to leave a generous tip.

Between the early morning start, and the energy she had expended at the restaurant, Angel was asleep for most of the ride home.

Once they were home, she took off her work clothes and settled on her bed to resume her nap. As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that her old self would have just flopped on the bed in his good clothes. And wouldn't have cared.

She missed those days.

After waking up, she experienced something that had been surprisingly rare, lately.

Her parents told her no. And made it stick.

She had decided that it would be a great time for a swim. There was still time before she needed to get dressed for dinner, and summer was disappearing fast.

As far as her mother was concerned, Angel was thinking like a boy again. As a boy, she could have showered and dressed formally in less than half an hour. As a girl, or more to the point, a young woman, she would need much longer. In fact, her mother considered her to be behind schedule already.

Angel responded with all the dignity and grace of her sixteen years. "But Mooom! Daaaddy! Why? It isn't fair!"

The look her parents exchanged didn't help. It was their "we know something you don't know" look.

Angel was feeling put upon. This dinner was supposed to be an apology to her for causing an uncomfortable situation, not an occasion to raise discomfort to new heights. She could understand dressing fairly nicely, making sure her hair was combed and brushed, and maybe a tiny bit of makeup.

But this dinner was being more elaborately stage managed than the last show she was in. Her hair was not just clean and neat, it was styled. Her makeup, which her mother described as evening formal makeup, rivaled that first department store makeover. A special bra. She was a little surprised that her mother wasn't having her wear the formal dress. Or failing that, one of her work outfits.