Starting Over Chapter Ten

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Disclaimer: *Hisses* I'll probably meet an ifrit before I own GW, and it's common knowledge.

(If anyone knows just what happens at the end of the second semester in a Canadian school, please tell me, I'm tiptoeing around the subject).

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Before, dreams had always been full and clear; now, only fragments of them remained in her minds' eye; little reeling bits and pictures that broke off with time into even smaller, less distinct shards. Every morning, she spent five minutes sitting on her bed in deep thought, her legs hanging over the mattress, wondering about why she had a strange, dense feeling padding her stomach.

Dreams had always been used, in writing, in poetry, in peoples' minds, to further a foreboding presence or to explain something. This was incomprehensible and tangled with the sweat of sleep; Relena couldn't make out any sense in it at all.

So, usually with a soft, groggy exhale of air, she would climb out of bed and trot into the bathroom to brush her teeth - morning breath not being a pretty thing. Then, she would trot back to her room to dress, and so on.

Over her breakfast of toast, she attempted focusing her eyes on an assignment in order to finish it. Ignoring the crumbs that scattered over her lap with each bite and blinking repeatedly, she scrawled the answer to the problem and only hoped it wasn't as much a guess as she thought it was.

Still mulling over the feeling of having had a dream, she licked the last of the toast from her fingers before shutting the book and her folders, slipping them into her backpack. With the back of her hand she wiped her eyes, willing herself into a more alert state.

7:05. She had some time left.

Gathering up her things - backpack, coat - and setting these next to the door, she sank into the sofa one more time. Till she had to leave she wouldn't try to finish anything; since her leave those three weeks ago, she had managed to scrape together enough time to get the bulk of her work done. Now, only a few things were left over, and these would have to be turned in as late.

Snuffling, she pulled a tissue from her pocket. Her cold hadn't worsened, but it wasn't getting better. And all she seemed to be drinking was Elmwood tea, her remaining diet existing of bread and oatmeal. She hadn't felt this close to physically miserable in years.

Tenderly brushing the tissue against her raw nostrils, she wished she had taken some medicine, some drug, during the past few weeks. At seeing a television clip of one of her speeches, she could tell she didn't look all that well - make-up and expert lighting couldn't always keep things hidden. The bags under her eyes were enough to send her to bed.

Cramming the crumpled tissue back into her pocket Relena suppressed a yawn. She'd have to get to that later. It was already 7:20, just the time when she was supposed to head off.

Pulling on her coat and shouldering her bookbag, she stretched her neck at feeling a cool current of air slip by. The morning was drab, the sky still maturing from its' muddled gray, night-blue state. There was unusually little traffic, and a drunk on the street corner had collapsed in his place, an empty bottle still gripped in his hand.

Relena, after locking the door, rubbed the unevenly edged side of the keys with her thumb for a moment, staring down the street toward her school. These were the last few weeks of December; on returning just yesterday, she was still recovering from the jet-lag.

Cinq was colder now then in Montreal; it was a mild winter, with the snow turning into gray, slushy banks hugging the edges of the street. Crisp, the air around her blew the hair into her face again, reminding her to start walking. Pulling out a shawl from deep in her coats' pocket, she wound it around her neck.

Having turned in her leather shoes for boots, she tramped along till the stairs of Linden came close enough for her to hop up. As had become habit, she tapped the toes of her feet against the last step, letting whatever mush that had latched onto her shoes during the walk fall, and entered the building.

Recognizing several faces, she smiled thinly at anyone who greeted her. With the dry weather her lips had become cracked, bleeding whenever she stretched them too much. Finding her locker, she shed the outer clothing and was about to put away the unnecessaries when someone slapped her on the back, making her reel forward with a strong cough.

"Hey, Lena, it's good to see you again!" Denna said cheerfully, wagging her head from side to side in emphasis.

"Good morning, Denna." Relena happily responded, her tone warm. The tall girl ran a hand through her hair, now without gel, unspiked, and dyed a flaming orange. Denna hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her pants, as orange as her hair, and grinned.

"You certainly missed out."

"I did?"

"Oh yeah." Relena hugged some text books to herself and raised a questioning glance to Denna's eyes.

"What would you mean with that?" Relena asked, one hand sliding to her throat in case she coughed again.

"I found an old flapper's costume in my Nana's closet." A feral grin wrapped around Denna's face, her eyes sparkling. "You wouldn't believe the shocked expressions at that Winter fling the school had when I came in."

Indeed, it was wonderful to be back, if only for a little while.

"It's good to here." She said, smiling gently. Denna leaned against the lockers, her head tilted to the left.

"What happened to you?" She asked, losing all pretense of a jokester. Relena set her bookbag on the ground against her shins, fingers digging into her palm. No lying here, she had no need to lie.

"My cold came back during my trip."

"It doesn't seem as if you did anything for it." Denna said evenly.

"I was a little too busy to worry much." Relena responded, if flatly. She didn't need interrogating, even something as peaceful and friendly as this. In truth, she knew it was only worry that had made the questions well up and tumble from her friends' mouth. "But I am going to see a doctor this week."

"Good." Denna shook her head; earrings - tiny disco balls- flew and twinkled at her earlobes. "You're cold can't be why you look so tired."

It couldn't be that obvious, that plain. Relena, a little stricken, raised a hand to her cheek and touched it with her fingertips; she was exhausted, mentally strained. It wasn't that she felt as feverish as she did sluggish. Her hands moved clumsily, as did her legs. Each step made her rock back on her heels, trying to win over the tiny fits of shaky dizziness, and all she could do was continue as she had been to beat it.

Slamming the locker shut, Relena shouldered her backpack with her eyes on the floor.

"I have to meet with the principal, Denna, I will see you in class."

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"Have a seat, Miss Burg." The principal waved a hand toward one of the chairs in front of his desk, scanning through a folder of papers that he had retrieved from a cabinet when she had come in. Relena glanced around a second too long only to remember that it was her name he had spoken. Hurriedly setting her bookbag on the ground, she took a seat and waited, hands under her knees - the office was unexpectedly cold, and her hands were becoming stiff.

"Now, according to the records, you have missed nearly twenty days of school." Relena nodded though the principal still had his head bent over the papers. "If you miss ten, you automatically fail unless you have a reasonable excuse. In your case, we should already be discussing summer school."

Though she knew he wasn't trying to purposefully make her feel incapable, he succeeded in doing so anyway. Mentally chiding herself, she knew it was only because he had a duty to the students that he was doing this.

"Preferrably, I would talk to you and your parents about this situation; but since they aren't easily reached, I will have to do what I can." His stern eyes met hers abruptly. "But I will have to call them, and somehow, I hadn't received their numbers. "

Leaning forward, he handed her a packet of papers, which Relena began to sift through as he continued.

"Please write the numbers down. If it weren't for the suddenness of this, we would set up the transmission immediately, but, since they have had no warning of a meeting, we will have to set the date for sometime later." Picking at an eraser, the Principal added, "And we still have your grades to go through. Have you finished all the homework assignments?"

"Not entirely." The principal shook his head slowly, preventing himself from moaning.

"When, do you think, will you?"

"In two days I can hand the rest in."

"You are aware that this won't help your grades?"

"Quite."

"Are you ready for the exams?" Bowing her head, Relena gazed at her knees for a moment in serious consideration of drawing them to her and wrapping her arms around them, but forced herself to look up that second.

"Truthfully, no, not really."

"They are this week and we can't change the date of yours alone to accomodate your schedule." Relena nodded.

"I understand; I've already told my teachers beforehand that I would be taking them with the class."

"Good." Letting the eraser fall, the principal stared at her openly. "May I assume you know that you have failed this semester?"

"Yes, I know this very well."

"Good. Now, you're dismissed; go to your classes, you've only missed fifteen minutes."

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"What a nightmare." She mumbled to herself, unable to keep up the limited supply of optimism she had at hand, her shoulders drooping and feet dragging as she walked, scraping against the concrete sidewalk. Hands limply hanging at her sides, she only wished she were home, in the kitchen, with warm salt water to clear her sinuses and more tea.

A brisk, dry gale flattened her hair against her head, making it stream out behind her, and she licked her lips at the feeling of moisture being sucked out of her face. Rubbing her thumb against her index finger, the wool of her mits warming them, she trodded along without an alert sense to warn her of anything.

She jumped when someone's hand patted her head, a hand hugged by thick, rubbery gloves.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burg." Denna grumbled loudly, spoken in a guttural voice. Relena's smile quickly found room on her face; it was a near-perfect immitation of Misses Dubose, the teacher with which Denna waged verbal wars all too often.

Stopping, she waited for Denna's stride to take her to her side before speaking.

"I didn't know you lived in this area."

"I don't."

"But then, why are you walking along here?" Denna grinned, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and swung her arms at her sides in circles.

"I felt like stalking you, and anyway, I have to go pick something up."

"Oh." Relena pushed back the sleeve of her coat and glanced at her wristwatch. "May I join you?" Other than work, she had no plans; Relena felt as if a quick recess from it all would be of great help at the moment.

"Sure, I'd like you to see it." Denna picked up her walk again, making Relena nearly skip in order to keep up. "Have you ever been to 'Second Splits?'"

"No. What is it?"

"A thrift store."

"Is it nearby?"

"Only a few blocks from where we're standing." Denna kicked a trail of slush from the sidewalk as they passed by. "I enjoy it there a lot; the manager even knows me now. I'm a frequent customer."

Relena grinned at the indirect explanation this gave for Denna's sense of style.

"I see." Denna began to whistle, but quit after she found her throat in want for a drink, making her voice sound like that of a bull frog's.

"Splits was a place I found when I first came to live with Harriet; I had wanted to explore the area, and came upon the place in a half hour. I think I spent the entire afternoon there, just browsing."

"Is Harriet a relative you're staying with?"

"My grandmother from my father's side." Relena's eyes took on a form of surprise, her mouth conforming into an 'o.'

"I'm sorry I did not know, you never told me and I did not ask."

"Don't worry." Denna said with a wave of her gloved hand. "You wouldn't have recognized her as my grandmother, anyway; she's so shrunken and wiry, I don't resemble her in the least."

Turning a corner, they almost ran into a low-posted sign with 'Second Splits' splashed across it in flaking paint, once a jade green. It was next to a tight little door with creaky hinges; the store didn't even have a window for its' merchandise.

But Denna entered without a thought, shaking her head, slipping the earmuffs off her head, boxing her ears to warm them, stomping her boots to rid them of the mush of leftover snow. Relena unwrapped the shawl from her neck, her interest and curiosity winning over, and stuffed it into a pocket along with her mittens.

They were in a cramped corridor that only had three doors; the last two seemed to be restrooms. The first must have been the entrance.

Denna held the first door open, bent at the waist, one hand held out to the interior of the room.

"You first." She said, eyes glowing at the prospect of prowling the racks and stands inside. Relena stepped in pensively, wondering where her friend had led her; but she only had taken three steps when she felt as if she had to stop in order to take the sight in.

Displayed in rich, colorful abundance clothes had been stacked, packed into, hung, and folded, varying from different styles to the many materials used. Everything was sorted into general categories - long-sleeved shirts, gloves, jackets - but other than that it was a chaotic scene that seemed to go through perhaps three rooms. Studding the walls like posters were masks and hats as well as the occasional, ankle-length coat and or glitzy gown; raised on platforms around the room were shoes, boots, pumps; hung or folded into large racks were the rest.

Denna marched to the cashier's booth, tucked away into a corner, and began conversing with the person in charge at the moment, not quite argueing but inching to it, leaving Relena to explore.

Wandering through, Relena took down a hat, glancing it over in awe; the brim reached out maybe a foot, floppy, limp, a simple ribbon of blue around the crown. Placing it back onto the hook it had been on, she went on to study others; some were of a style she guessed to have come from the early 1930's; others she couldn't quite place with their oddities and ornaments.

Continueing, she went from one room to the next, each morphing into something entirely different from the first; though still splashed with color and sparkle, dangling and hanging in organized racks, it had no category other than 'Formal wear' to go under. Ranging from a large assortment of wedding dresses to prom clothing, she spent several minutes searching through.

"Your daddy don't dance and your mama don't rock and roll!" Denna crowed, making Relena jump at her sudden presence. Looking over her shoulder, she nearly tripped over her own feet at seeing Denna in a showgirl's suit. Setting on the beaded headdress that completed the get-up, Denna strolled to where Relena stood, rooted.

"Isn't that right?" She asked, her expression coy. Relena covered her mouth with one hand, not wanting to cough onto her.

"Well-"

"Positively shocking, yes?"

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful." Fists on her hips, Denna stared up at the racks of formals Relena had been sorting through. "Found anything to try on?"

"No, but I was only curious-"

"Let me pick something out for you." Denna reached up with one long arm and picked through, Relena off to the side, feeling slightly sheepish.

"Try this." She ordered, holding out a hanger. Relena's stare locked onto Denna's.

"I'm most likely not going to buy anything, though." She said, perplexed.

"That's not the fun part. Just try it."

"Denna-"

"Humor me, please." A few moments of wordless challenging went on, Relena softly shaking her head at her friends' persistence. Denna gently rattled the hanger close to her face, making the dress flick from side to side. "Please?"

Relena peered into her eyes; it was only a few minutes. Uncrossing her arms, she reluctantly curled her hand around the hanger, a submissive, if pleased smile crossing over her mouth.

"Alright, but after this, I will have to leave."

"Fine. The changing booths are in the last room; I'll show you."

Relena let herself be led to a stall where she was pushed into, the curtain flying shut behind her.

Now, enclosed in the darker, enclosed space, Relena stood for a few moments in paralyzed silence. Glancing around, she found a full-length mirror to her left, recording each move she made and displaying them all so proudly.

Slipping her sweater from her head, she let this fall onto a stool that was in the corner. Next came her shirt, topped by her pants, and she unhooked the dress from its' hanger, unzipping the back and slipping it up her legs.

The cloth, at first looking to be thick, was gentle and surprisingly light; she had no effort or use to pull at the sleeves when her arms needed a way through. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she zipped it up, feeling the loose material close around her torso and tighten, falling from her hips in wide, natural plaits.

Twisting around, she stared dumbly at the reflection the mirror generously showed her, the tiny transformation illustrated as an enormous step in her mind. In the dark, the stark white of the outfit seemed to glow; even though it came inches above her knees, it still seemed conservative.

Raising her arms and turning, she watched the back of the dress drop to display her shoulder blades, but no more. Picking up her hair in one large handful, she poised, feeling not much different other than vaguely surprised.

"How long will this take, Lena dear??" Denna yelled, her tone that of puzzled boredom. Quickly stepping out of the self-woven trance, Relena pushed back the heavy curtain, blinking at the light.

"Lord, that looks good." Denna hopped up from her crouched seat on the floor, placing her hands on Relena's hips in private critizism. "You could wear this to prom."

"Prom?" Since when had she planned on going to prom?

"Of course."

"I don't think I'm-"

"No hat, though, that would ruin the angel effect."

"'Angel effect?'"

"Hasn't anyone told you?" Denna pulled a dramaticly elaborated hat from its' hook on the wall, yanking it over her head and winking one eye at Relena, the brim hanging into her face, darkening a large portion, a wild array of rare birds' feathers arranged around the crown and tide tightly with a transparent gold ribbon. "White on a light skin color gives that person an angel's effect; there are always exceptions, but that's been my experience."

Relena picked at the skirt impatiently.

"Denna, I sincerely doubt-"

"The square neckline is riske, but made modest by the near knee-length of the skirt. The bodice is snuggly wrapped around the waist," Denna explained, sounding much like a professor, with her hands soothing small creases in the fabric, "But the wide straps balance that out sweetly. The fact that it's white just makes it all the better; white, non-shine cloth adds to the overall effect."

Relena picked Denna's hands off her shoulders - now straightening the straps - and gave a large, slightly frustrated sigh.

"Denna, I am most likely not going to the prom."

"But I am." Denna tilted her head in thought. "Wouldn't that make sense to accompany me?"

Relena thought back to Minister Io; he had hinted at her leaving before graduation with the excuse that her parents wanted her home again. Her stay abroad was waning to an end.

Shrugging, she didn't say anything; instead, she continued to pick at the smooth fabric of the skirt. It was pretty.

Denna expertly took her hand and twirled Relena in a circle, keeping her on her toes.

"It could be fun; perhaps Charlie Brown would come."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Relena smiled, eyes knit closed. Irritation at Denna was imminent and hard to shun; but it was beyond easy to slip off.

"Only if forced." She said jokingly. Denna smiled, adding a demonic tint to the quirk of her lips. She grabbed the brim of her hat and tipped it.

"That could be accomplished. She's a formidable little grouch, but I could overpower her." Nudging her in the ribs, she added, "How about it, accomplice?"

Relena grinned, finding the jibe harmless.

"I think I need to change." Denna found a three-way mirror and began to model with the hat, pulling it into the strangest of positions on her head. She nodded quickly at Relena's retreating form.

"Go ahead, I'll wait."

Pulling the curtain back into place, Relena leaned against the wall, wringing her hands lightly. Prom? Mayhap - depending on the time the event would be scheduled in.

Cocking her head to the side, she watched her reflection shimmer as the skirt of the dress shifted around her legs, finding nooks to fold into and lay against. Yet again, the glowing of the fabric in the dark caught her off-guard; pushing off the wall, she could imagine herself somewhere where the lighting resembled this. Turning around in a circle, arms raised, her eyes slid to her legs and bare feet, then back up from her thighs and waist to her shoulders.

Angel effect. She disliked the sound of it; it was too close to being called an angel, a title given to her in the tabloids - very rarely, since she was only a politician - and it clashed with many aspects of her personality. It sounded self-indulgent, for some reason.

Once again finding herself standing in front of the mirror, Relena leaned in, pressing her palms against the glass; watching her pupils change size, she formed a small, private smile.

Not bad.

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I have been wanting to write this for the longest time; but this impenetrable wall of what felt to be mud lay between me and finishing this. It was disappointing to have not gotten it done sooner. Ah well; I just hope the characters are staying in the boundaries of their personalities - and that the added ones aren't involved too much, though I don't have much choice about that, especially now.

Please review!