Atalanta at Whateley: School Days Chapters 26

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I want to thank Bill and Asheligh for their help and encouragement and to the readers and their comments. It really is appreciated. I hope to get into regular postings--one or two chapters a week.

Dr. Bellows suggests a class change for Atalanta. Atalanta and Hank sit on the steps at Poe until Mrs. Horton runs them inside. Atalanta and Manny talk about Whateley and later she has a talk with her mom and we learn a little more about Audhilde.

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Chapter 26

The hall was deserted; as was the desk that Dr. Bellows’ secretary normally occupied. His office door was open and I skirted the desk to knock on the doorframe. A locked briefcase occupied a side chair with an overcoat draped over the back. His desk was cleared of the usual bric a brac that seemed to always clutter desks. No coffee cups, water glasses, or loose pens and papers.

“Going somewhere Doc,” I inquired through the open doorway.

“Christmas Break. Come on in and have a seat,” he said after inviting me in and closing his door before occupying his usual seat behind his desk. His hands clasped in front of his body, elbows resting on the tabletop.

He leaned forward.

“Atalanta looking back on the week, what are your impressions and thoughts on anything, anyplace, or anybody? It doesn’t have to be connected with Whateley.”

I hesitated before speaking. “You asked for my general impressions. Let’s face it, if I was a girl you met on the street you wouldn’t be asking this question. So what you want to know about is my life as a mutant,” I snapped.

Dr. Bellows remained still his serene smile locked in place, his eyes locked on mine. Most people didn’t know Dr. Bellows was a low level mutant with weak empathetic abilities that he carefully hid. He could feel the waves of frustration and anger.

Still smiling he replied, “You’re right my only interest in you is as a lab rat.”

I got up from my seat and began pacing the floor before coming to a stop in front of his desk. Placing my hands on his desk I leaned forward, “Don’t patronize me doctor.”

I quickly resumed my pacing before stopping and quietly resuming my seat. “Labels, I hate labels. I hate these damn mountains around here,” I cried waving my arms to include the horizon behind him.

“Back home,” I continued, “the mountains were wide and expansive, they let you breathe. Here, they are right on top of you.”

It wasn’t the mountains that were bothering her.

“At home I was just a girl.”

“… That’s not quite true is it?”

I knew he was referring to the desert incidence, but especially the snowstorm rescue. He was right. After that scene in the cabin, life couldn’t go on as it had before.

I sat down, “I’m sorry doc. You’re right I couldn’t stay there.”

He remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“I felt this same way when Mom enrolled me in regular school this fall.”

“And how did you feel when she enrolled you here?” Dr. Bellows prompted.

Looking up at him through hooded eyelids, my lips thinned, “I didn’t want to be here either.”

“Why? What is it that bothers you most?”

I knew exactly what bothered me the most but I hesitated as I ran the reasons through my mental filters.

“Atalanta I want to help you - as your therapist and as your advisor, but I need your help and I need you to trust me.”

“So, this is a doctor patient confidentiality agreement then,” I asked with the tendons in my neck jumping.

“Yes,” he replied quickly, “but with a couple of exceptions; if I think you are a danger to yourself or to the school.”

“I have to trust you but you don’t have to trust me,” I drawled. “Okay I’ll tell you this much: I hate labels. I hate being labeled. You know the reason I didn’t like going to high school this fall? You know why I didn’t want to come here?”

“Labels,” he inquired mildly.

“Now you’re talking,” I declared.

“Some labels are necessary for …”

“Specific labels are necessary,” I agreed, “like eye color, height, weight, age, and so on. But general labels like mutant, nationality, education, religion, dangerous, and similar descriptors are prejudicial and stereotypical. These words are used to impose rules and limitations by those doing the labeling because they are just too damn lazy or incompetent to be bothered.”

“But …”

“But nothing, you wanted to know so you are going to listen,” I interjected, “When I changed, more than my body and sex changed. I’m nothing like Alan-.” I stopped speaking as I ran the name Alan over my tongue again. “In fact,” I continued, “that name seems alien, and like the name of someone I used to know. Alan wouldn’t mind rules; he wouldn’t mind classes that were boring. He didn’t know what he didn’t know.

I do know the difference. I can smell life on a breeze from the sap that flows in the trees and converted by sunlight to energy, to birds on the wing. Chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits scurrying for food, and the natural ozone water emits as it tumbles towards the ocean. Nature is life, and it is death, and I can sense both. Those are lessons that you don’t learn inside the classrooms, or being herded around like animals and put in our stalls at night.”

“Umm,” he replied, looking thoughtfully through my file. “You have been very helpful and insightful and maybe I should take another look at your schedule.”

I watched him, lightly drumming my fingertips on the chair arm as he consulted a list of classes and writing on a separate sheaf of papers. Finished he straightened up leaning back in his chair and studied me.

“Thank you for your honesty, and after taking a second look at your schedule, I do believe I have uncovered an opportunity for you to train your senses in a way you can’t in a classroom.”

Ruh-oh!

Butterflies floated in my stomach as my legs tingled.

“I had you penciled in the survival class, and thinking you might look into joining the Parkour Hooligans, I now feel you need a more balanced education. The good news is that Whateley has a very good Drama and Theatre department and I can get you in.”

“Drama …Theatre?” I asked as the blood drained from my face.

“Yes,” Dr. Bellows continued cheerfully, “and you will be in time to participate in the Spring play.”

“Doc I don’t know a thing about plays and stuff, and I don’t have any interest in learning.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes pinning me as his voice carried, “Atalanta, I truly believe this gives you a chance to stretch yourself and test your senses in a way that they haven’t been tested, and you’ll learn more about yourself in the process.”

The admonishment to “know yourself”, from The Art of War jumped out at me.

“You have to admit it’s not your typical classroom.”

“I’ll give you that much,” I smiled wryly, “and you maybe right that I might learn something about myself.”

“Good that’s settled then, if I can work you in,” he replied standing and extending his hand, “Enjoy the break.”

“You too, Doc,” I returned grasping his hand and leaving the room to meet up with Manny. As he walked me to the door he asked me about my upcoming Christmas visit with the Medawihla Indians.

Manny was waiting for me outside and as we were walking toward Crystal Hall he asked, “Out with it Atalanta, what happened on your visit today?”

“What makes you think anything happened?” I inquired mildly.

“Oh, for one thing the report Sam had to make, and for another I know you,” he replied as he jostled me.

I filled him in on the morning’s activities as we went through the food line and after finding my table we sat down to eat.

“You carry that boot knife everywhere?”

I nodded, “I do.”

He leaned over and whispered “We need to have a talk somewhere private.”

I nodded not surprised, “I know just the place,” I grinned back at him. “First though I want to introduce you to some of my housemates,” as Nikki, Hank, Jade, Billy, and Chou sat down around us.

After the introductions were made, Chou quipped, “So are you here to keep Atalanta out of trouble?”

“No,” Manny replied fine lines appearing around his eyes, “I’m here to save the school from her.” Good natured jeers followed with Hank offering his escort services.

“Atalanta you are full of surprises,” Manny grinned at me as we were ensconced in the branches of Mr. Hawthorne.

“You wanted someplace private,” I reminded him.

When he told me we needed someplace private to talk the image of the giant hawthorn tree sprang to mind and after eating and trading barbs with my house mates I led him over to the ancient tree and introduced Manny as a friend.

After introductions we scrambled up into the tree and found a nice wide expanse that resembled a palm to rest on.

“I did, didn’t I,” he agreed. He paused to marshal his thoughts.

“When I left New Mexico I assumed you’d be there for another four years or so. I left a few things unsaid that now need to be said. The ranch was private lands and you didn’t have any local or formal security policy and it was surrounded by public or reservation land where custom formed the policy. Out there it was pretty much left to each person whether or not to go armed. Considering the wildlife and border issues that was probably the best decision.”

I nodded following along and guessing where this talk was leading to.

“There is an old saying,” he continued, “when in Rome do as the Romans do. That’s good advice for everyone to consider but particularly applies to people like me and especially for mutants like you. You don’t want your MMID card to list you as dangerous: authorizing deadly force.”

“This is about the moose today isn’t?”
He nodded, “Not entirely, but it does help illustrate a principal that you need to learn. Mrs. Carson, security, and faculty don’t know exactly how to classify you. That in itself is not a bad thing, but if you are going that route then you need to fly under the radar. You need to be seen obeying the rules.”

“I never initiated any of these confrontations.”

“I know Atalanta,” Manny sighed, “but as I told you out on the desert when you first started out, opportunities will come out of the woodwork. It’s almost like you’ve created a vortex; attracting this energy to you. Think of it as a test. Like a test those results will follow you around. What you want to be is classified as a non lethal threat and the best way to accomplish that is not to be carrying lethal weapons.”

“I know.”

“Are you carrying?”

I retrieved my knife from its concealed sheath; the afternoon sun absorbed by the flat matte and thick tanto design, the box cutter end constructed to penetrate. That particular knife was favored by US Special Forces.

“Did you bring your other edged weapons?”

“They’re in my room.”

“Okay I want you to leave them there at all times. Now that you are part of an organization, you will need to follow rules.”

I narrowed my eyes absorbing his thoughts, “I think I understand what it is that you’re saying but it was my instincts and your training that saved my rear end on the way out here. How do I balance rules with self-preservation?” I asked stubbornly.

Manny blew out air through his puffed cheeks, “Always follow your instincts but Atalanta …you are good enough to not need weapons; at least not here. This place is not a battlefield and even soldiers when they are on the base go unarmed unless it is in a warzone.”

I nodded replying, “It just feels so different out here.”

“You have to play the hand you’re dealt, not the one you wish you had.”

Dusk had settled and I had just seen Manny drive away. I really wanted to be in the car with him and though I had the money for round trip tickets, I knew better than to ask.

“I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Are you going to take a side trip on your way back?”

“If nothing unexpected turns up, I will.”

“Tell Mom and Judy hello for me and that I love them.”

“I’ll do that, and stay safe,” Manny assured me as he put the vehicle in gear and drove away.

“You too,” I called and turning walked towards Poe where I sat on the steps. The lights were blinking on across campus as darkness tightened its grip.

“Mind if I sit down,” Hank asked stopping at the steps.

“No, help yourself,” I answered scooting over.

“How did it go with Dr. Bellows, did you get your classes sorted out?”

In the darkness I studied Hank’s manner and decided he didn’t know about the theatre class, “Yeah it is mostly sorted out with a few classes to be decided after Christmas. He thinks I should take Theatre but I don’t know about it.”

“A lot of people like it, but most of the people taking it are upper classmen.”

“Hey I’m special,” I joked.

“That you are,” he agreed whimsically: blushing.

Was he flirting with me? Feeling devious and remembering the date with Jack, I asked Hank about the school, what he liked and disliked about Whateley. What kinds of entertainment they had on campus and if students were allowed to go into town.

I smiled as Hank talked and talked. And they accused us girls of gossiping but give a man a chance to talk about himself and suddenly you are a great conversationalist. But I listened-- . I really listened, until Mrs. Horton opened the door to remind us it was time for bed.

“Hank, I really appreciate it, I had a good time tonight,” and impulsively, I hugged him.

“We’ll have to do it again, I enjoyed myself too,” Hank responded beaming.

Mrs. Horton scowled.

We walked up the stairs to the landing, where Hank hesitated. I reminded him a gentleman sees a lady to her door. I impishly smiled as he complied and walked me the hall’s length to my room where I bade him good night. But not before I hugged him and again told him I enjoyed his company.

Once behind my closed door I stripped down to my panties and donned the “ratty old shirt” as Mom called my dad’s old flannel shirt. Sitting cross legged on the bed holding the phone I reflected on just what had happened tonight with Hank.

Obviously he had buoyed my spirits. The question was why. Was that due to his being a boy and me a girl or as kindred spirits? We were both Army brats and we could also help each other understand the expectations that came with our adopted sex. I didn’t know the answers but I did know that I liked the feeling that I felt from someone finding me attractive. And I didn’t know if I was losing the battle to retain a semblance of my masculine identity, and if I was, what it meant that I was no longer terrified at that thought.

Pushing that question aside I dialed the 505 area code that represented home, “Mom,” I greeted when she answered. “It’s your favorite daughter calling.”

“You’re my only daughter Atalanta, how are you?”

We exchanged the essential greetings and normal information before telling her that Manny was coming to work at Whateley.
“And he said he would try to stop on his way back to see you and Judy.”

“I’m glad you’ll see a familiar face. Have you made any friends with the students yet?”

“Yeah, I met up with a group calling themselves Team Kimba. They are cool and all but one are girls; and he is a changeling too.”

“Oh my, how is he adapting?” Mom was sharp.

“Hank went with us over to the reservation to see the Donners, and we had a long talk on the way over.”

“Really what did you two talk about? Comparing notes?” she asked lightly.

“Well yes we did.”

“What did you learn?”

“According to Hank, it is about expectations.”

Mom was quiet for a few seconds, “What kind of expectations, as I assume you mean expectations for girls?”

“Yes Mom the expectations he had growing up as a girl; he said his expectations centered a lot on weddings and babies.”

I heard a sharp intake of air, “Mom?”

“I’m here, that was a bit of a jolt.”

“Tell me about it, it was a surprise to me. You and I talked about the rules changing; because I could get pregnant. We didn’t really go into the love and marriage, or the family part.”

“No we didn’t and Hank’s right; little girls as a rule do grow up with the whole fairy tale princess background. I’m sorry dear I should have probably prepared you better but girls your age have moved or started to move away from that fantasy.”

“Not your fault Mom after all how were you going to bring it up? I know how,” I declared giggling excitedly.

“I’m afraid to ask: how?”

“You could’ve read me a bedtime story of “Snow White,” “Beauty and the Beast,” or “The Princess Diaries.”

“Hmm I like the idea.”

“…Mom I was just joking.”

“We’ll see but tell me, do you like this boy, Hank?”

“We sat on the stoop this evening and talked until Mrs. Horton called us inside. And I made him walk me to my door.”

“Oh and how did you accomplish that?”

“By reminding him, a gentleman sees a lady to her door.”

“Atalanta you little scamp,” she replied wistfully adding, “I sometimes now wish you had been born a girl.”

“If I had been, Hank and I would be batting for the same team,” I reminded her.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mom responded her voice trailing off. “Atalanta if you could, would you return to being a boy?”

“If by returning you mean before it happened: maybe. But if you mean now, then my answer is, I don’t think that I would.”

“So you’re happy being a female?”

A smile played across my face as I pondered that question. “I would say content.”

As we prepared to hang up Mom cautioned me to go slow and jokingly asked if she needed to write me a BC script.

“Bye Mom.”

I lay in my bed dressed in my nightshirt and panties staring into the ceiling, my mind everywhere but alone in a room on the second floor of Poe at Whateley in the middle of New Hampshire. My mind roamed to New Mexico, to the cottage I shared with my mother for the last 18 months and my friends, especially Lindsey and Mom's friend Aunt Judy.

I missed the open spaces that were bigger than life reaching as far as the eye could see toward the horizon. Here I felt squeezed in by the high tight mountain ranges and the societal and school restrictions. I had met several people this week, some I counted as friends, some were stick figures animating the background and others were potential enemies. I didn't fully trust the instructors, nor the security yet. I understood Mrs. Carson well. The school was bigger than any one person. While I understood it, I didn't like it.

As my conscious mind began to shift into lower brain wave patterns and sleep began to exert its hold, the unease and tension I felt all week surfaced. Sifting through my memories, free from the demands of testing, and learning new routines I become aware of the shifting emotions and ties of all the people that I had met in Vermont.

Those persons one at a time now stood out in stark relief, their auras blazing and throbbing with intensity shouted at me. Despite the vivid scenes tap-dancing through my conscious mind, that busy mind gave way to deeper levels where these scenes turned to dust before shifting smoothly into the realm of the subconscious. My last thoughts before sleep claimed me were of my Mom and Dad.

Later that night appearing from out of the darkness a familiar form alighted smoothly high on a branch outside a second floor window at Poe cottage. It peered through the window it’s glowing yellow eyes burning like hot coals. Its visage gave the impression of a “V” channeling downward ending at it’s great hooked beak. The only movements came from its upright, pointed ears as they occasionally twitched-in anticipation.

After several minutes of intense concentration a soft glow began emanating from the room’s interior. The mist flowed into every nook and cranny of the room before becoming aware of the single occupant. Deliberately the energy began clustering around the sleeping form before beginning to work its magic.

Not once did the figure stir or give a hint to the inner workings as new dendrites and neurons were formed establishing faster and more secure connections. Many of these new contacts established neural pathways in formerly abandoned and neglected zones, resulting in illumination in heretofore dark corridors. These corridors long neglected; having being swept aside by technological and artificial achievements, activated. Ancient wisdoms and knowledge became accessible as new networks emerged, enmeshing seamlessly with the old. The resultant core was similar to the upgrading of FAT tables to NTFS. Both worked side-by-side and each had their uses but NTFS greatly expanded capacity for storage and indexing.

The glow gradually dimmed before winking out of existence, it’s alchemy finished.

Outside, the great owl rose from its perch and glided silently disappearing into the darkness; mission accomplished.

Audhilde looked out the tower across the bleak landscape, reflecting on a promise she made so many years ago.: A promise that she hadn’t kept to her satisfaction; That promise that brought her to this outpost of civilization to rectify that shortcoming.

Her mind traveled across the ages to a different time on a windswept, moonlit beach, the ocean lapping lustily behind the young couple who had sought her help. She had given the young prince guidance in his quest to reclaim his rightful place on the throne. The athletic girl beside him was the only female allowed on his voyage.

Both of them were facing dangerous days that lay ahead.

Their child could be in danger if it was know she was a potential heir to two kingdoms. They had come to her for help in shielding the baby girl, until such time as one or both had reclaimed their inheritances.

She frowned in remembrance, turning from the window as her mind again went to that deserted beach. They had placed her in the position of deceiving her own sister; hiding from her the result of their indiscretion. The young woman was her sister’s charge, so she was strict in what she demanded as tribute. In the end she had reluctantly agreed to keep their secret and make arrangements for the babe’s care.

The hint of a smile played at her lips as she remembered the days of chaos that followed; the young man and the young woman “making their mark” in the world, and the stories that were told and retold around the world for ages. The prince was wounded in the re-taking of his throne and the young woman banished, while the caretaker for the child had vanished. Probably with good reason as Audhilde’s sister was known for exacting punishment for real or imagined crimes.

The years that followed were chaotic for her as well, and she never was able to locate the child. The knowledge stung, the pain made worse as she couldn’t confide in her family or to seek their help. That night on the beach Audhilde had looked at the soul of the child and memorized her signature.

During a birth, death, or in times of extreme emotional distress the veil is lifted and the exposed soul shines like a beacon, and rings with a sound that is unique. Audhilde could see and hear the exposed souls of any she chose to. She had had sporadic hits over time of the one she sought, but too briefly to locate. Almost two decades ago she was able to trace that particular soul signature across the Atlantic to the New World, where once again all traces disappeared.

On a whim she decided to explore this “New World”, and after about ten years the chaotic pattern she sought emerged from the calm of ether on the East Coast of the United States. From there she was able to follow it south and west.

Her aristocratic features twisted into a rueful grin as she remembered her surprise at the body that housed the soul she sought, and at her subsequent decision to reverse nature’s mistake bringing her promise full circle and to fruition.

The air around her shimmied as she briefly caught the scent of ozone and a body blinked into existence. The person next to her was striking both in appearance and in similarity.

“Sis.”

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Comments

flirting with a boy

not a skill I have, sadly ...

DogSig.png

Life is too serious

to take it too seriously.

Great chapter!

So, she is the reincarnation of the daughter of Atalanta, the only female argonaut?

nomad

I can neither

I can neither confirm nor deny that. But imagine the what ifs...if it did.

Hmmmm, it would be kind of

Hmmmm, it would be kind of nice if Hank and Atalanta became an item and the two of them would indeed be good for each other as they have very similar backgrounds before and after they changes.

They Do

They do have similar backgrounds.

Good chapter

Jamie Lee's picture

This is another fine chapter.

I wonder how much more Atalanta's life will be messed with by the last of this chapter. Or not.

Others have feelings too.

that was the worst...

advice Manny has ever given. 3/4 of Whateley goes armed and more. if someone tells you no weapons allowed. that where you need to be armed. a back up never hurts.
the rest was great, thanks

Mystery

Tas's picture

So Atalanta is still being improved by an outside force. Interesting.

Looking forward to the next part! I've certainly enjoyed it so far :)

-Tas

Yes it is

an improvement but one that is not visible and the she won't notice much if any difference. It maybe some things will become easier to learn.