The Stupendous Springer

Episode 1: Exposure, Chapter 3

The next day, Sophie joined Holly to go to school. She dreaded what she would experience, but saw nothing else to do about her situation but go on as normal, and see what came of it.

Sophie yawned as Holly's car went over a mild bump in the road, and she felt her pliable form undulate in response. Sophie chose not to react. She had not slept well, or for very long. She was tired. It took too much effort to be mad at her body for the way it was. She just wanted the day to be over, and the sooner, the better. Anything to draw her mind away from it was welcome. The sky was a pretty shade of blue today. Those clouds were pure and fluffy. The light played across the road ahead artfully. There was almost an aura of hope to it, as if the world was telling her it would all be okay.

"Hey Sophie, I have some good news," Holly began.

"What's up?" Sophie asked, ready for another distraction.

"I think I may have found a solution for getting you a stretchy body covering," Holly continued, clearly getting excited, "We just need to ask--"

"Holly," Sophie interrupted.

"Huh?" Holly grunted.

"I . . . " Sophie began, then, taking a breath, continued, "I really don't want to think about anything having to do with . . . that, right now."

Holly was silent for a beat. "Oh."

"I'm happy to talk," Sophie told her, truthfully. "I really am, just . . . not about that."

"Are you doing any better from yesterday?" Holly asked.

Sophie sighed. "I can't tell right now. I'll let you know."

Holly pulled into a parking spot at the school, roughly where she usually did, at least on school days. Sophie climbed out of the car, mustering all the strength she could to keep her footing. It was not easy given how tired she was, but she did. She looked up at the same hopeful sky she had seen on the way over. Please don't be lying to me, world, she pleaded in her mind. I need some hope right now.

The hope for which she implored the universe did not come when she asked. Indeed it did not for even an hour after. Immediately upon entering the school, she saw, she heard, she could almost feel the rapt attention of every person she passed by in the halls, student and staff alike. Some hushed, some giggled, some leered, and some stared. Sophie was grateful how tired she was - reacting emotionally would take more energy than she had at the moment, so she did not react at all. It hurt, deeply, and every single instance of unwanted attention was violating, but she just kept on track to class.

Her plan was simple. She would avoid stretching as much as she could. Not only did she want to do that anyway, but she hoped it would help her draw as little attention as possible, perhaps allowing the other students to even forget that she had ever . . . done what she had done.

For the first two class periods, not much occurred. Sophie was still comfortable like she never had been, but this time relishing it was not on her mind. If her experience was not so noticeably plush, Sophie would almost have been able to have a relaxingly normal class experience. So tired, tired of emotions, tired of hating her new life.

Sophie caught her arm slackening as it made its best attempt to hold up her head. Jerking alert, she tensed it, undoing the bend her forearm had developed. Glancing around, one of her classmates was laughing at her under their breath. Of course someone had been watching. Now that she actually looked, Sophie noted that there were several watching her, in fact. So tired, tired of emotions, tired of being uncomfortable with the attention.

The class period came and went with no real consequence. Sophie gained nothing, and she lost nothing but some energy keeping herself awake, and an hour of her life. In second period, however, she already had in mind that she was being scrutinized in every action. It was as if who she had been the day before had melted away, leaving nothing but the bare concept of an elastic person. What can she do? What will she do? Is she going to stretch again? Is she trying not to, or just not trying to? Sophie knew these questions raced through everyone's minds. Who is she? What is she like? What does she do for fun? What are her favorite foods? Sophie knew those questions had never been asked to the same extent or fervor. She had barely been a person to those around her, but now she was not even that, just a fleshy rubber band to about which to ponder and at which to stare.