Out of the Ashes, Part 2

Out of the Ashes by Misty Meenor A Comic RetCon Universe Story The Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian characters are the property of DC Comics. Dolores studied me for a moment. "You're going out there, aren't you? That's what this is about," she asked quietly. I nodded slowly, wanting her approval. "How can I not?" I asked. "Heatstroke is another metahuman, has to be. There's only a few of us in the whole world, can we really assume somebody else will just show up to take him on? He killed five cops, Dolores. He's going to own this city. And he works for the Cartel. You can be sure he won't be the only metahuman to go bad." "And what will you do after that?" "I'll go after the Carpaci family. With me dead, the D.A.'s whole case falls apart. They'll be rubbing his nose in it."

---

The large room was dimly lit. The sole occupant stood at one end of the boardroom table, his perspiring features illuminated by a small spot lamp. A bank of video monitors covered the entire wall opposite; configured to form an single enormous display.

"I can report that Crime Cartel will be resuming shipments well ahead of schedule, Director," Anthony Carpaci mopped his brow.

The perspiration was in large part due to the stern visage displayed on the screen at the other end of the room. The voice was unimpressed. "And the backlog?"

"Ah. Well, there were unexpected developments, but we are working to resolve them as soon as --"

"Do so. I'm keeping your file on my desk, Mr. Carpaci. I'm disappointed. You would be well advised to have some progress to report next time. If you are unable to meet your commitments, you will be replaced with someone who can. Intergang has no patience with failures. I trust I am making myself sufficiently clear?"

"Ah, erm, perfectly clear, Director."

"Good. We're done here." The screen went dark.

~o~O~o~

Dolores found me in the basement, lifting weights. "Oh, here you are." She stood at the top of the stairs, and flipped on the lights before coming down.

I'd not even noticed the room had been dark. "Hey, sleepyhead."

She came over and enfolded me in her arms. I returned the hug. It was still a little disorienting; yesterday, I'd been a guy. That was before I died, and woke up as a teenage girl. The green kind. With powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.

That sort of thing takes a lot of getting used to. Plus, I was short.

I hadn't been the shorter participant in a hug since I took DeeDee Sommers to the eighth grade prom. It felt nice to be able to rest my head against her shoulder. Then and now.

She kissed the top of my head. "Thank you for.. what you did. I'll miss Dan -- I miss him so much already -- but I know it's for the best that we let him die. I know you're still him, and can be him, but… I don't need a shrink to see that can't be healthy. For either of us." She sighed heavily. "You were so right, it's complicated… This… is going to take a lot of sorting out, for both of us. It won't happen overnight. I want you to know I still love you."

I nodded, still hugging her close. "I know, angel -- Auntie. I love you too. And I know how much I need your help. Thank you for being here for me."

She squeezed me one more time, and gave me another affectionate kiss before releasing me. "Now, what have you been doing down here, green girl? Besides dressing up in fetish wear."

I grinned abashedly down at the outfit I'd come up with. A teal one-piece garment, cut high at the hips, and rising up to my neck, kind of like a racing swimsuit done in leather, and fitting so closely, well, it fit like it was a part of my skin. Because it was, of course. Thigh-high leather boots, in a shade of red to match my long hair, with heels that I was still a little wobbly on. A belt encircled my waist, and crossed between my breasts, to reach over my shoulders, crossing again at the small of my back to join with the belt again. In red, to match the boots. "Well, I got tired of being naked…"

She nodded skeptically. "Uh-huh. We'll come back to that. Not exactly Edna Mode, but nice colors for you. What were you doing when I came down?"

"I was just figuring something out. Watch this." I leaned over and picked up my weights with one hand. Not some weights. I just grabbed the rack and picked up the whole set, holding it out at arm's length. "This is the heaviest thing I could find in the house, it's a five-hundred pound set. It's nowhere close to my limit, as far as I can tell. What's wrong with this picture?"

Dolores gaped. "Ummm, well, besides the fact that you're small and green, and lifting those weights like they were balloons, I'm not sure what you're getting at…"

I grinned. "How much should I weigh, maybe a hundred ten, hundred twenty pounds? I don't know what I do weigh, but it's sure not as much as the weights, or we'd have noticed by now. So… why don't I fall over?"

She blinked. "Ahhhh, good point. Why don't you fall over?"

"I've got a theory, but there's more. Why isn't the rack bending? It's sturdy, but it was meant to support all that weight on a solid floor. Lifting it up by one end should make it collapse like a house of cards, but it's not."

Dolores nodded slowly. "I see what you mean. Your theory?"

I carefully set the rack down, and flexed my arm. "I'm not lifting it with this, I'm lifting it with this." I pointed to my head. "Oh, I'm pretty sure my new muscles are stronger than they look, but I'm not sure how much stronger. Because most of the force is coming from my mind."

Part of what I loved about her, she catches on quick. "So… if that was true… why can't you lift stuff from across the room?" She'd already deduced that I couldn't. Because if I could, I would have shown her already.

I shrugged. "I don't know. As far as I can tell, I need to be trying to lift it, and it lifts. I've tried touching something, and willing it to lift, but that doesn't work either." I shook my head. "I need to think about it some more. One thing I can lift, though, once I'd figured it out…" I waited for her to bite.

Dolores raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I give. What."

I grinned in triumph. "Me." I lifted myself up, hovering about a foot off the ground. "Now check this out." I picked up the rack again. "See what I mean? No way is it just muscles lifting this." I settled back to the floor, and set the rack down.

I looked up at her awestruck expression, and gave her a moment. "I think I know what I am now." I continued softly.

I explained what I'd seen on the news, about Jade, and metahumans. "I'm guessing the metagene thing popped just before I died. It's supposed to transform you, but I guess by then I was so badly burned there was nothing to work with. Somehow, it was able to use that gas from the Mars rock, and rebuild me -- this me, anyway -- and here I am. Some of my abilities are inherent in my Martian body -- the shapeshifting, of course, and a lot of the damage resistance, maybe the ability to see so well -- and something in my head enhances those and adds to them."

Dolores studied me for a moment. "You're going out there, aren't you? That's what this is about," she asked quietly.

I nodded slowly, wanting her approval. "How can I not?" I asked. "Heatstroke is another metahuman, has to be. There's only a few of us in the whole world, can we really assume somebody else will just show up to take him on? He killed five cops, Dolores. He's going to own this city. And he works for the Cartel. You can be sure he won't be the only metahuman to go bad."

"And what will you do after that?"

"I'll go after the Carpaci family. With me dead, the D.A.'s whole case falls apart. They'll be rubbing his nose in it."

"Go after them how -- kill them?"

I blinked. "No, of course not. Gather evidence, lay charges."

She sighed. "And what, waltz downtown in your sexy little fetish outfit, and toss a file folder onto the D.A.'s desk? Sweetie, you're not a detective anymore. You didn't even exist before last night. You are not an officer of the law, and you are not entitled to gather evidence. You're an unknown mysterious green-skinned alien kid with unknown mysterious powers, and only your word for what they are. Maybe you can control minds, or cast illusions -- why should anyone trust your say-so? Just being seen near a crime scene is enough for the defense to introduce reasonable doubt. You look like the Jolly Green Giant's baby sister, you are not a credible witness for this stuff, the defense lawyers would rip you apart and then start on the D.A. You are the last person on Earth the D.A. would want near any Carpaci case. Honey, you know this."

I dropped my eyes, and scuffed my toe into the cement floor, careful not to leave a hole. I muttered something that sounded like assent.

Her expression softened. "Answer me this. How much of your plans have involved just being a teenaged girl? What is Megan going to do with her life?"

I stopped, and thought about it. "I… I tried to make her some clothes…" I offered weakly.

Dolores sighed and nodded. "I thought so." She looked around the basement. "Let's go upstairs. We need to talk and there's no place comfortable down here."

I followed her meekly upstairs and we sat facing each other on the couch. It was much roomier now that I'd been fun-sized. "Can you please change out of that silly outfit? You look like an underage extra for a space-porn movie," she teased.

I mock-glared at her, but obliged by switching my form to Megan, a little taller and slimmer, just different enough in the face so nobody would see a resemblance between my green self and her. Much healthier skin tone, light brown shoulder-length hair, a t-shirt and shorts, and I was done. It sounds harder than it really was, I'd been practicing, so it only took a second.

I drew my legs up beside me on the couch, mildly surprised that it was a comfortable pose.

She was still wearing the engagement ring I had given her, twisting it nervously around her finger as she searched for a place to start. She noticed me noticing. "Did you mean it? When you gave this to me. You got down on one knee. You didn't have to do it that way."

I nodded earnestly, but didn't interrupt.

Her eyes were on the ring as she twisted it. "I really thought about taking it off, and putting it away. The last memento I'd have of Dan… it would sit in a box someplace, grow dusty, and eventually… be forgotten." She shook her head and wiped away a tear. "I will not cry!

"I would have married you in a heartbeat… We missed our chance, because we got our signals crossed -- I was waiting for you to ask, you didn't know how I'd react. I don't want that to happen again. I-I want to tell you what this ring means to me, why I'm still wearing it. A-and if that's not how you feel, well that's the risk, isn't it?

"This isn't about Dan. I know he's gone. But you, the new you, gave me the ring, you got down on one knee, and -- oh, damn, I'm messing this up." She sniffled and wiped her eyes again.

"Look, I know we can't be married. It's not about being husband and wife anymore. Not even about sleeping together, I don't know, we can sort that part out… But we can be together, can't we? Is that what you meant, when you gave it to me? Be a family? I don't want to lose you again." Her eyes pleaded with mine.

I scooted across the couch to put my head on her shoulder and hug her close, and she put her arm around me. Now that she was the taller one, it seemed the natural way of things, and I wasn't complaining. I was silent for a moment, trying to choose the words to make sure I said exactly what I meant.

"Angel, I said I love you, and I do. I will say it every day for you as often as you'd like to hear it. I wish I could be your husband. I... I think I could be your lover, if you'll have me that way. You will always be my closest friend. I want you to be happy. I will gladly be your girlfriend, roommate, niece, cousin, long-lost sister, or adopted daughter. B-but I'll need you to show me how." I was crying now, too, but not out of sadness, it was more like a surplus of emotion. I couldn't seem to make it stop.

I held up my left hand next to hers, and shapeshifted a simple gold band onto my ring finger. "I don't know a thing about jewelry, but I'd be proud to wear any kind of ring you want to pick out for me. I would be honored and delighted if we could be a family." I looked up at her face and gave her a half-smile through the tears. "And that's the strangest damn wedding vow you'll ever hear, but I guess that's what it is."

Her face lit up and she gave me a kiss that made me pretty sure that I could be her lover and she would have me that way, when the time was right, and this time our tears were happy ones.

I snuggled into her side. "Hey, this isn't so bad, being the smaller one."

She grinned and gave me a squeeze. "Get used to it, short stuff… I guess being your Auntie wouldn't be the best idea, huh."

I nodded, considering. "That could get pretty creepy, if we ever got found out. Cousin? No, wait. Dan's cousin? Second or third cousin, once or twice removed. My mom has relatives out east, I'm pretty sure nobody would notice one more. And passing as a member of my own family would be easier than trying to pass as one of yours. There's the resemblance to Dan, after all. Not that I'd be likely to meet any of my own relatives, I haven't seen any of them in years."

"Hmmm, could work. Remind me, why is Dan's cousin Megan in town, again?"

"Rebellious teen, left a difficult home situation. Parents were born-again Frisbeetarians. Unorthodox Evangelicals, the very worst kind. She just arrived on the bus this weekend. Dan was letting her stay with him. You met her, remember? You two really hit it off. She's come to the big city so she can go to college next year. That Dan really was a sweetheart."

She snorted. "Maybe, but he wasn't as bright with the ladies as he thought. So. What does the poor girl want to study in college?"

I thought about that. "Maybe… forensics?"

Dolores chuckled approvingly. "Mmmmm, now there's a girl after my own heart. Difficult course load, though. Lots of science. Maybe a chance to intern as a police tech, if she studied hard."

I shrugged. "She'll study. I doubt she sleeps much."

"So. Poor Megan comes to town, lives with Dan a few days. Dan gets killed, I come over to break the news, and decide to keep her. Can she cook?"

I was not walking into that. I grinned, "Not as well as you."

She giggled at that. "Well played, missy."

She grew more thoughtful. "Okay. The next few days are going to be rough. The funerals will be soon, and five cops really did die, and their families really do deserve our condolences and support. I'm the grieving fiancée of the sixth, so there's no way I can avoid the spotlight. I can get away with being out of touch today, but tomorrow it's going to start. I know I already have a ton of sympathetic voicemails, I checked. And as Dan's only known relative, you'll need to be visible too. Which means you'll need clothes. Which means we need to go shopping. Fortunately, you won't need much, since you fell off the turnip truck with just the one suitcase."

I protested, "But… I can shapeshift my own clothes…"

That got a skeptical look. "Sweetie, I know you have the ability, but what do you know about women's clothing? Specifically, teenaged girl clothing?" She nudged me off the couch and to my feet. "Show me what you'd wear to the funeral."

I thought for a moment, and obligingly created a white blouse and a black skirt and jacket, with plain black shoes. Dolores got up and inspected me with a critical eye, running her fingers over my 'clothes'.

"Sweetie, your jacket is cut like a man's jacket. It needs to be tailored more closely. You have curves now, your clothes need to show them off. Your shirt feels like a man's shirt. The fabric shouldn't be heavy cotton, it should be silk, or at least something a lot softer. The style could be more feminine. And the buttons are on the wrong side. Women's buttons are opposite."

She tugged at the skirt. "Your skirt doesn't have a zipper, or even a waistband. It's like a placeholder for a skirt. Your shoes… well, the style might have been popular in East Germany, I suppose. In grandma's day. You've got no makeup, no jewelry, and your hair -- that shoulder-length style is cute for everyday, but for something like this, you could wear it up. And you'll need to get a purse, at least -- girls don't use pockets."

She sat back on the couch. "Do you see what I mean? You have the ability, but you don't have enough information to use the ability yet. That will come, I'm sure -- but for now, you need some experience with real clothes."

I nodded, reluctantly. She was right, she usually was. "I guess."

Dolores gave me a sympathetic look. "It's not just pretending and playing dress-up, sweetie. You can't hide, or be a superhero all the time, that's just denial. You can't shut yourself away from the world. You are a girl, a very pretty one. You need to be able to mix with other girls, talk about things girls grow up knowing about."

She scowled at my unsettled expression. "It's not just makeup and menstrual cramps. Walking alone after dark. Not being able to reach the top shelf. Getting stared at on the bus. Flirting your way out of a traffic ticket. Having your ass groped. Everyday strategies for getting along in a world where you are smaller and weaker than the men who think they run things."

She lightened up a bit. "And hey, sometimes we even talk about what's in the paper, and whether the car needs a new transmission and even who won the game last night."

She paused to let it sink in, then grinned wickedly. "You'll need to learn how to deal with guys, too. Because they are so going to home in on you, toots."

I collapsed on the couch, and drew my knees up to my chest, and rested my head on them. "I know, I know, you're right. But… it's all so overwhelming…"

She made a rude noise. "Oh, yeah. Going out and dealing with the same things that I do -- that half the human beings on the planet do -- every single day, that's way scarier than putting on a frisky costume and fighting crime. I bet you even had a name picked out. Did you?"

I picked at an imaginary spot on the sofa cushion, and mumbled, "Well… I dunno… since I was a detective 'n all… 'n since I'm green… I thought maybe… the Martian Manhunter…"

Dolores burst out laughing. "Honey, you do know that being a 'manhunter' has a different connotation for a woman? I could see the tabloids calling you that, especially with your skimpy outfit, but let's not do their job for them…" How about… oh, I don't know… the Green Gumshoe? Martian Miss? Meteor Maid? Hey, that one's even a pun… Ha! On two levels, actually."

I could see she was having way too much fun with this. I crossed my arms and sulked. "Fine. Never mind. Forget it." I tried a pout on for size.

"Oh, now, don't be that way. Nice pout, though. Let's see… 'Miss Mars'; there, how about that one? Short, simple, and to the point."

I mulled it over. It really wasn't half bad. "Well, maybe. Sounds like I won a beauty contest," I grumped.

She grinned. "If that's the worst thing people think of, sweetheart, you're way ahead of the game. Besides, you look like you won a beauty contest." She patted my knee. "Come on, let's go shopping."

~o~O~o~

It was strange riding passenger when I was so used to driving myself; I sagged a little when I remembered I didn't even have a driver's license any more, let alone a car. Or even any way to pay for gas.

Our first stop was a big box department store; Dolores marched me around the lady's intimates section, picking out a selection of cotton panties in various styles, and a simple cotton bra. "You need something to go shopping in."

"Can't we just get everything here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not if you want to come home with me."

I shrugged and let her pick out a pair of denim shorts and a shortie top, and a simple pair of flat sandals. Then she thought it was important to pick out a handbag, and a wallet to put into it. At least I had some money for the wallet; I'd grabbed a few hundred dollars out of my emergency cash, before we left home. I was stuck with the picture of the pretend family that came with it, though.

As soon as everything was paid for, she sent me into the washroom to change from my shapeshifted pretend outfit into the real thing.

I changed in a stall; when I came out, I studied myself in the mirror. Damn, girl, if I were my sister, I'd be guarding me with a shotgun. I blinked. If that makes sense.

The bra fit snugly, and was actually kind of comfortable. The top bared my bellybutton to the world, and left me feeling a little exposed. Which was a little weird, considering that for the last hour I'd been walking around the store naked in nothing but my own shapeshifted skin. I'd had to squirm to get into the shorts -- I'd almost decided they were too small -- but they did fit, albeit very closely. I think I could sit on a dime and call heads or tails.

I'm not playing dressup anymore. I'm wearing actual girl's clothes in public.

My stomach felt jittery, like I'd committed to something, and it was out of my hands, and the only thing to do was ride it and see where it went.

Stepping into the sandals, I took a deep breath, stole one final look at myself, and was out the door.

I had to run back to grab my purse.

Dolores was all smiles as I approached her from the washrooms, purse slung onto my shoulder. "Lookin' good, toots. How does it feel?"

I thought about it. "A little scary. But scary-good. You were right, the clothes make a big difference." I did a little wiggle. "I like them. I like how they feel, and how they make me feel. I like how I look. That's kinda the scary part. It's too easy -- no, it's not easy, exactly, but it's easier than it should be. I should be freaking out, and I'm not."

Dolores led the way out to the car. "Maybe that's part of the change? Or maybe you're just more adaptable than you thought."

"Could be… or maybe it just hasn't hit me yet, and I'm going to break down and have a screaming conniption in the mall." I offered glumly, then grinned at the look she gave me, to show I was teasing.

"The fact is, I'm kinda having fun. Doing this in my old body, that would be creepy. But… I'm in this body, now. I guess I've decided to just roll with it."

The next stop was a secondhand store. If I was just arrived in the big city, it would hardly make sense if all of my clothes were brand new. Hey, we're cops. We know about alibis. If we were going to create a backstory for Megan, it made sense to at least put some effort into it.

Dolores practically locked me in the changing room, and handed in a constant supply of tops and pants and skirts and even dresses, and wouldn't let me out except to decide if something fit, or the color was right, or apply one of several other indecipherable criterion that I just hadn't managed to pick up on yet.

I relaxed and went with the flow, and discovered that I was enjoying myself, and the pile of clothes that passed Dolores' scrutiny grew steadily.

We finished by finding an old trunk that had clearly seen better days, but was big enough to contain my new wardrobe. I could have carried it out myself, but would have attracted a lot of unwelcome attention. Instead the cashier paged one of the kids in the back room to bring a wheeled dolly out, and push the trunk out to the car for us.

I thought of him as a kid, but in reality he was my apparent age; this was my first experience with the effect my new body had on the teenaged male of the species. When he appeared out of the back room, I smiled brightly, apologized for putting him to so much trouble, and thanked him for being so nice.

The effect was devastating. If I'd asked him to carry the trunk out balanced on his nose while yodeling Gilbert and Sullivan I think he would have done it. I doubt the poor guy would have two brain cells firing together for half an hour after we'd gone. In truth, I felt a little sorry for him. I'd been a teenaged boy, once.

As he followed me out to the car I could feel his eyes on my ass, and I shortened my steps so as not to outpace him as he pushed the heavy trunk. Plus, it made my butt wiggle more. Dolores knew exactly what I was doing; I kept getting amused glances from her anytime I looked her way. I couldn't meet her eyes for fear we'd both break out laughing.

Finally, we hit the mall.

As a man, I'd never cared for the mall. I knew where to find the bookstore, and the electronics place, and the two or three places that sold clothes that I liked. A couple of guy-tolerant places where I might buy a gift for Dolores. And the food court.

I could name maybe a dozen stores. All the intervening stores were just kind of fuzzed out in my head, I knew they were there but they were just spaces with nothing I'd ever need, so they just blurred together. Shopping trips were hunting expeditions. Get in, get what I came for, get out, get on with my day. Malls were a pain, wasted space.

A realization hit me, and I just had to stop, and turn in place, and soak it all in. Two huge levels -- probably a couple of hundred stores -- devoted to the celebration of commercialism, of advertising, of consumerism.

And almost every single unit in this giant retail Mecca existed for the sole purpose of selling something to me, now. Suddenly malls made more sense.

I hurried to catch up to Dolores, who was making a beeline for the lingerie shop -- yes, that was one of the dozen shops I could name, what guy doesn't notice a lingerie store? But I'd never have dared to set foot in it, until now. Dolores had to tug me across the threshold.

"We'd like to get this young lady properly fitted, please. She's been growing, again." Dolores grinned at my embarrassment. The young saleswoman gave me a knowing smile. "Of course. Come on back to the change rooms, let me grab a tape."

I followed her into the change room, and pulled off my shirt, so she could take my measurements. She tsk'd at the sight of my cheap cotton bra. "Those things give you no support at all. It may feel fine now, but trust me, if you don't start supporting 'em now, they'll be drooping way too soon… Thirty-four C, looks like. What sort of bra did you have in mind?"

I stammered, "I, umm, well I… -- what would you recommend?"

Dolores had obviously been listening through the curtain. She popped her head in. "This is my treat. The poor girl was raised by her father. She hasn't had a lot of feminine guidance. Some everyday bra and panty sets, and maybe one for special occasions." She gave me a secret grin, enjoying my predicament.

The woman made a sympathetic face. "Awww, poor dear. Let me take your other measurements, just so we have them, and then I'll bring you a few samples to try on… twenty-two -- I'm jealous! -- and… thirty-four." She draped the tape across her shoulders, and smiled. "Take that thing off, and I'll be right back."

I tugged off the cotton 'thing' and crossed my arms over my bare breasts, waiting for the woman to return.

Dolores slipped into the booth with me. "How you holding up?" she whispered.

I shrugged, and gave her a shy grin. "So far, so good. I'd sorta assumed that these things were always just going to… jiggle. It was… distracting for a while." I giggled. "The bra helped some, though."

Dolores chuckled. "Oh, they'll still jiggle in a bra, just less. You may get used to it, but trust me, men never do. Bras are a public service. Without them, men would never get anything done. Did you think that kid was looking at your smile?"

The saleswoman returned with a selection of bras for me to try on, and helped adjust them to ensure a good fit. Dolores insisted on buying several of something called a t-shirt bra, with two more that were similar but push-up -- I knew what a push-up bra was, I just didn't know why I had to have some. Finally, a very lacy demicup. All with matching panties, because apparently stuff should match, under there.

I left the store wearing one of the t-shirt bras, in order to prevent the saleswoman from trying to tear that cotton 'thing' from my body. The sensation was difficult to describe; it was comfortable, and it definitely was more supportive. But I felt hyper-aware of my chest. It was… different.

As soon as we were out of the shop, we were off to the makeup counter at the department store, where Dolores spun the same story about me being raised by wolves, male ones, and the nice lady help me to find some colors that worked for me, and patiently explained about daytime and nighttime makeup, and showed me how to apply the various products. I have to admit, she knew her stuff, the results were amazing -- but once I saw the end result, I knew I could recreate it any time. I left the counter trying not to lick at the coat of awful-tasting stuff slicking my lips and getting used to the sensation of mascara on my lashes.

I hefted the shopping bag full of various makeup products. "I don't know why I need all this." I grumbled.

Dolores shrugged. "Girls help each other with their makeup all the time. You might be able to walk around looking perfect, but if you do, you can bet your friends will want your expert advice. So you need to be able to walk the walk, toots."

I blinked. "My friends. My. Girl. Friends." Erk. Let's shelve that thought for a while.

Dolores smirked, but wisely said nothing.

We stopped in the jewelry department, where Dolores picked out some inexpensive bracelets, and a necklace on a fine gold chain. "Can you pierce your ears?" she whispered.

I closed my eyes and pictured it, little pinholes in the lobe of each ear. "How's that?"

She studied my ears for a second, then nodded. "Perfect. What do you think of the earrings over here?" I picked out a pair of simple small hoops, and she tutted me and added a pair of larger dangly hoops, and a pair of fake-diamond studs.

As we left the store to head back into the mall, we were set upon by a pack of fragrance-wielding salespersons. Dolores looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged meekly. "Why not?…" I grinned.

"You'll want to try something light, for everyday, something that works for you. You don't want to smell like you stole your mother's perfume," she advised.

"But I like your perfume, mom!" I teased.

We eventually found something citrus-y that I liked, and she agreed was suitable for a teenager, and not too expensive, so we added that to our growing collection of shopping bags.

Heading back through the mall on the way to the car, we passed a jeweler's. Dolores got a look in her eye, and asked me to wait outside. I found a bench and sat, surrounded by our accumulated treasures. I had a pretty good idea what she was up to, so I didn't peek. Instead, I passed the time people-watching.

My eyes narrowed. What are the Bone Fists doing here?

---