Our TG Captionpage 8
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“I have a great thing to say. Valeria: you’re a freshman.”
Those words hit you like a truck. You knew this wasn’t true.
“A freshman? I’m 18! I’m a senior!”
“You are a high school freshman.”
You stand firm. “I...am NOT...a-”
“Listen to me carefully,” the man says, swinging that pendulum so very fast. “You are a 14-year-old high school freshman.”
“I’m...I’m a 14-year-old...high...school........freshman,” you manage at last as the trance overtakes you. Your gorgeous adult body is now definitely that of a young teen: skinny, not curvy or busty, and a bit shorter. Your clothes are more childish but not overwhelmingly so. You’re still cute, but you aren’t hot anymore (not that you notice this). You can’t believe you are 14 now...high school is going to be so difficult! Middle school was whatever, but not this. You’ve been stressing about it for weeks, hoping you become popular soon and hoping you make varsity cheer as a frosh. You know the classes will be a joke but you can’t help but worry about working your way up the social hierarchy right away and maybe kiss a few boys with your tongue along the way. You and your friends could really make a splash.
“You’re a loser.”
“I’m not a loser!” You pout immediately.
“You are a loser!”
“I’m not a loser! I’m...popu...I’m cool...” you assert. You know you are not the most popular or cute girl with those big glasses on your face, but you know you could be cool by making the freshman cheer team and joining some clubs. Your parents said it’ll be so easy to fit in. You know you won’t be a loser.
“But you are a loser. You are a huge, huge loser.”
“I’m a l-loser...” you say softly, realizing that it’s true as your hair works it’s way into pigtails and your teeth become misaligned. At the same time, you lose all knowledge of cheer and become a total brainiac. You know that you aren’t very much in luck. You’re cute but you don’t do any sports and don’t have any real friends. Your parents always said that high school could be tough, especially for people who are like you.
“I’m a loser,” you say in your nerd body. The man seems pleased to see you like this.
Those words hit you like a truck. You knew this wasn’t true.
“A freshman? I’m 18! I’m a senior!”
“You are a high school freshman.”
You stand firm. “I...am NOT...a-”
“Listen to me carefully,” the man says, swinging that pendulum so very fast. “You are a 14-year-old high school freshman.”
“I’m...I’m a 14-year-old...high...school........freshman,” you manage at last as the trance overtakes you. Your gorgeous adult body is now definitely that of a young teen: skinny, not curvy or busty, and a bit shorter. Your clothes are more childish but not overwhelmingly so. You’re still cute, but you aren’t hot anymore (not that you notice this). You can’t believe you are 14 now...high school is going to be so difficult! Middle school was whatever, but not this. You’ve been stressing about it for weeks, hoping you become popular soon and hoping you make varsity cheer as a frosh. You know the classes will be a joke but you can’t help but worry about working your way up the social hierarchy right away and maybe kiss a few boys with your tongue along the way. You and your friends could really make a splash.
“You’re a loser.”
“I’m not a loser!” You pout immediately.
“You are a loser!”
“I’m not a loser! I’m...popu...I’m cool...” you assert. You know you are not the most popular or cute girl with those big glasses on your face, but you know you could be cool by making the freshman cheer team and joining some clubs. Your parents said it’ll be so easy to fit in. You know you won’t be a loser.
“But you are a loser. You are a huge, huge loser.”
“I’m a l-loser...” you say softly, realizing that it’s true as your hair works it’s way into pigtails and your teeth become misaligned. At the same time, you lose all knowledge of cheer and become a total brainiac. You know that you aren’t very much in luck. You’re cute but you don’t do any sports and don’t have any real friends. Your parents always said that high school could be tough, especially for people who are like you.
“I’m a loser,” you say in your nerd body. The man seems pleased to see you like this.
What do you do?
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