Upon rounding the corner, Caitlin broke into a 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 carried today, she couldn't imagine studying for three hours in a room full of her peers. She really had just wanted to postpone her public unveiling as much as possible.

She was so flustered and nervous during her encounter with Maureen that it was a wonder Maureen hadn't seen right through her bravado. Why the hell didn't she say anything? Caitlin wondered. Maureen seemed distracted during their brief encounter, which Caitlin attributed to Maureen's 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 ten minutes late, Caitlin was grateful to enter her refuge of the day: the art studio. While she wanted to forget the carnival sideshow her life had become, she couldn't help but notice she had to stoop a little to reach her locker comfortably, and 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 reached for her normal paint-splattered, oversized t-shirt, hoping to downplay her makeover by slumming it a bit. To her chagrin, however, she found that where the shirt had previously been "grossly oversized," her lengthwise and outward growth made it just look a little big.

"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered to herself, reaching for an apron. The apron, still sized for a person nearly half a foot shorter than she currently stood, rode high and noticeably snug around her chest and she had to adjust the straps to make it fit properly. She also swapped Alexis' heels for a pair of old flip-flops, grateful for both the comfort and the slight lowering of altitude. After tying her hair back in a ponytail, she found that she had successfully downplayed her makeover by 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. She headed toward her normal spot in the far corner of the room, where she could distance herself from the cluster of her fellow 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 above her landscape, though 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 opted to let her subconscious mind do the painting. Still, she could not help but replay that morning's unusual encounter with her mother.

- - - -earlier that morning - - -

Caitlin awoke to her mother 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 (technically three) things dropped into her field of vision. The first two were her still unfamiliar new breasts, which Alexis had informed her were a proud 34E, that plopped onto her arm. The third were the locks of dyed raven-black hair which nearly blocked her vision entirely. She sat up suddenly, scanning her room for a tape measure and silently praying that she had not grown any more since the previous night..

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 Alexis had taken, so new ones would be of little use. She dropped the measuring tape and tried a tactile measuring method, which also proved fruitless since she had not had her new proportions long enough to gauge her size. She then caught a glimpse in her mirror of a dark haired, frantic, large breasted girl groping herself, and resolved to just get ready for school, and do her best to forget everything that had happened.

Unfortunately, every motion Caitlin went through served to remind her how much her body changed in the last couple days. Her bath towel felt noticeably smaller, the shower head lower, and Caitlin even noticed the closer proximity of top of the doorframes, which she could now touch comfortably in her bare feet. She tried a number of outfit possibilities aimed at minimizing her changes, each one about as effective as a neon sign pointing to her breasts. Alexis owned absolutely no conservative clothing options, and even the bras pushed her breasts up and out for maximum viewership. 

A half dozen tops, bottoms, and dresses brought her no closer to a decision. Caitlin looked at the clock and cursed, sensing the narrowing window of opportunity to make it to the studio before class started. "Fuck it all," she said aloud, turning away from the mirror. "I'll wear whatever, and people can say whatever."

Caitlin slid into a pair of borrowed jeans, grateful for Alexis' generous curves. The jeans fit a bit loose on her hips, which allowed them to hang a little to compensate for her longer inseam. She reached into her drawer and grabbed the first shirt she laid her hands on: a dark gray form-fitting Abercrombie tee. Alexis had left few options for flat-soled shoes, and Caitlin settled on the clog sandals with the 3-inch heel. Slipping them on, she did her best to ignore the fact that she no longer merely flirted with six feet tall at this point, and hurried out of her room and toward the front door.

"Byemomgottagofinals!" she blurted loudly, making a beeline 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 felt a dropping in the pit of her stomach at her mother's surprise.

"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 waited for the other shoe to drop. Just two weeks ago her mother stood 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 you're showing, 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 mother's fault..."

As her mother started off on a rant about Alexis' parentage, Caitlin stood on the steps, not sure whether 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 are 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, before deciding not to press the issue and headed out the door.

==== Back in the present. . .====

"Caitlin? Oh my. . ."

Caitlin snapped out of her reverie by the astonished voice of Mr. Knightley. The tall man must have noticed 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 let her brush hover over where she had just lifted it from, waiting on a reaction from her teacher.

"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 that yet another person somehow overlooked her substantial growth spurt, but what he was actually reacting to surprised her more. Caitlin had let her mind wander, something she normally tried to avoid while painting. Nonetheless, it 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 sat there, just as perplexed at its existence as Caitlin was. 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 situation, but he had already turned away from her toward the other students.

"What the hell is wrong with people?" Caitlin mused out loud, letting herself return to her work. Almost immediately, another distraction appeared, accompanied by the unmistakable smell of cigarettes.

"Whatcha' got there Landry?" Nicole sneered. Nicole Ryder had stepped outside for a smoke break, and, upon re-entry, noticed Mr. Knightley admiring Caitlin's work. Alongside dyed hair and abundant piercings, Nicole had large, bright amber eyes which had a subtly, hollowed look from moderate drug use and poor sleep habits. At about 5'2, her thin frame and haggard look often reminded Caitlin of a gremlin. Caitlin's higher perspective only aided in inviting the comparison.

"What the hell is that?" Nicole asked, gesturing at the igloo with a paintbrush.

Caitlin hoped to avoid an encounter with Nicole, 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. "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, while growing irritated 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 drew unwanted attention from the other students, and Caitlin scrunched down in a futile attempt to hide behind her canvas. She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. Oh God, Caitlin, she told herself. You aren't going to cry are you?

Nicole grew impatient. "You know what your project could use? A bit of Ryder magic'. . ." Out of the corner of her eyes, Caitlin saw Nicole approach her canvas. That bitch is going to ruin my project! Caitlin whirled around to physically stop her. Nicole, not expecting such a 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 comments about her body and intentions to deface her work sent Caitlin from embarrassed to livid in record time. She lunged at Nicole, grabbing for her hair, but instead catching her ear and the edge of a piercing.

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

Silence momentarily hung in the air as Caitlin, Nicole, and a number of spectators were unsure of what would happen next. Caitlin rubbed her cheek which stung from the impact, as she grew increasingly self-conscious about the spectacle. Nicole rubbed her ear, all the while spewing a streak of unbecoming comments about Caitlin under her breath. It didn't take long for Caitlin to pick 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, slutty, bimbo, cu…"

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

All spectators gasped at this latest development, though none had yet interfered. On the ground, Nicole spouted a whole new level of colorful profanity. The whole scenario had gotten a bit out of hand for Caitlin's taste. Though over an hour remained in the class, Caitlin figured this a good time to leave. Ignoring the gaping spectators, Caitlin abandoned her canvas, grabbed her open box of art supplies, and headed 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 felt herself pulled to the ground from behind by her hair and collar.

- - - - - - - -

In twenty-plus years teaching art classes, Mr. Knightley had never broken up a fight, and in his forty-plus years, he had never witnessed such an intense scuffle. While advising another student on the opposite end of the room, a series of yelps caught his attention, followed by a loud crashing and the unmistakable sound of paint supplies spilling on the ground. By the time he reached the source of the ruckus, he found his two prize pupils 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. Unsure exactly how to intervene, he looked around at the students who remained transfixed at the sight before them. He set his sights on Dean, a varsity linebacker (who also had a gift for watercolor) and motioned for him to help separate the girls. Dean took a moment to assess which girl stood the least chance of making him look bad: the feral-looking wiry one, or the tall girl who nearly matched him in height.

"DEAN!" Mr. Knightley yelled in his direction again. "Help me here!" Hoping his choice would not somehow affect his grade, Dean wrapped his arms around a fiercely clawing Nicole to pry her away from Caitlin. Nicole reacted to her captor by kicking and writhing wildly and Caitlin took advantage of Nicole's being bound from behind by slapping her before she was out of reach. Nicole reacted like a cat trapped in a paper bag, catching Dean off guard with a flurry of kicks to his shins, and the girls resumed their scuffle.

By this time, more students stepped in to intervene, but had difficulty due to the girls' refusal to let go of each others' hair. In a last ditch effort, Nicole abandoned the hair tactic and yanked Caitlin's shirt and bra up into her face, exposing a good deal of skin. 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 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 dragged an enraged, kicking and screaming Nicole out of the room. Another student volunteered to retrieve ice and band-aids for both girls, while others returned to their work. Mr. Knightley 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. Tears streamed down her face as she did her best to compose herself.

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

She looked up at him pitifully. Through broken sobs, she managed to choke out an unexpected reply.

"I'm really hungry."