Authors Notes: This is a fanfiction set in the Whateley Universe.
Also sorry about the long delay and the fact that it's still not done. I've been fighting some kind of sinus infection since October that made it feel like I couldn't breathe. It's getting better now, but I'm still not near 100%. Between that and a few special projects I was getting nothing else done.

I stared at my body, there wasn't much else to do unless I wanted to do homework. If I'd been doing the homework in class, or with a partner I could talk to and joke with it would be really interesting. I was somehow picking up facts and things a lot more quickly than I had before. Even physics was making sense. But when you're all alone, with only a nasty bitch to talk to, you kind of lose the incentive to get stuff done.

It had been two weeks of hell, and I had no idea how I would last all the way to the end. Ms. Bitch had taken me out shopping once, to a tiny thrift store that was a single room, with old cast offs that were stained, worn thin, and badly patched. We'd passed a few bargain basement department stores, where my money could have gotten me some clothes that were the right size and new, but we couldn't have that of course. Ms. Bitch in her infinite wisdom and need to see that the public was kept safe from my mutant ways, had contacted the police so I'd been under armed guard while I was there, which had made it even worse. As if that hadn't been enough my white hair drew a lot of attention, I hadn't been allowed to get it cut so it was really messy, starting to get long enough to get into my eyes, and the tips were still dark.

With how my body was changing, I'd just bought a couple of really baggy track suits. Looking at myself, I could guess that I'd grown over an inch, my hips, breasts, waist, and face were changing, becoming more male. I was even noticing a change down below with my clitoris growing. It didn't take a genius to know that I was turning into a guy. I still hadn't told Ms. Bitch, she already knew my every step, she didn't have to know about this until it was too obvious. I'd even stopped writing in my diary, no reason to let her read all my personal thoughts twice.

Grabbing the bed, I picked it up without much effort. I was already really strong, and if the weird guy I was still dreaming about was anything like I was turning into, I still had a ways to go before I topped out.

Reaching into my bag I pulled out a magazine. After I was done reading it, I'd have to put it under my shirt, then get it into the garbage and cover it up so Ms. Bitch didn't see it, but I needed to do something, or I'd find out if it was possible to dribble a persons head the next time I saw my guard.

Fifteen minutes later I had a problem. I had to go to the bathroom.

I was usually able to plan around the allowed bathroom breaks, but whatever was happening inside of me sometimes messed up my system. I'd had a period the week before, and after a three day break, I was having another one. So my bladder was just as messed up.

Knocking on the door didn't get me anywhere. Listening at the extra strong metal door didn't reveal any sounds, so my oh so caring guardian was either asleep or out. I still wanted to know what I was suppose to do if there was a fire, this had to be breaking at least a couple of laws.

Unfortunately when I had tried to speak with my social worker, Ms. Bitch had hung up the phone the moment I began to complain, and threatened to contact the MCO so I'd be arrested. That option was looking better everyday. I hadn't been able to talk to Gabby or Claire at all, even though the rules book said I could contact them as long as my guardian was in the room. No amount of trying to rules lawyer my way into a call did any good, it depended on her discretion and I'd done nothing to warrant a call.

Slamming my fist on the door had about as much effect as knocking.

I was starting to get desperate. The stupid bathroom was just across the hall and I couldn't get to it. I could practically picture the grey little room. Cramps bent me double and I felt like I was about to explode.

Closing my eyes I screamed with pent up fury at how fucked up my life was, wishing I was anywhere but in that damn room.

The room spun. I grabbed hold of the doorknob to stay up, only to fall forward. It wasn't there anymore.

Opening my eyes I looked at a familiar room, the bathroom of my old home. Urgent matters kept me from really thinking about what was going on, a minute later as I washed my hands, I came to two possible conclusions, I was insane, or I could teleport. Seeing as how I could take things from somewhere else, teleporting to my old home didn't seem to be much of a stretch.

It was two in the afternoon, so I probably didn't have to worry about Mom being there. I went quietly to my old room. It hadn't been touched, everything was pretty much exactly as I remembered it right down to the left over sandwich which stank of rot and mold, it was mostly just dusty.

Sitting down on the tiny bed I tried to think about what to do. If I didn't go back to the foster home, I'd be wanted by the police and the MCO. But if I went back, I'd probably put a knife in Ms. Bitch by the end of the year which would be worse. Going to my battered and wobbly desk, I pulled out a small photo album and looked at my old friends. It would be nice to see them again.

Hell feeling the air on my face for even a minute would be preferable to going back to the prison the social workers called a home.

Did really have to go back? I could get all the money and things I wanted, I could move around freely. Even if the MCO found me, running wouldn't be a problem.

Getting a backpack that barely fit me I put the pictures inside. The next hour was spent getting keepsakes. I started grabbing a few essentials but put them back, I didn't want to be lugging around anything more than I had to.

That done, I went back one last time to the small room I was forced to call home. I wanted my diary and then I could get on with my new life.

Ms. Bitch was there, along with two MCO agents.

We all stared at each other in shock for a second. One of agents was digging through my things, while the other one was talking on his phone.

“Stop right there!” the guy pawing through my underwear shouted reaching for his gun.

I didn't know what to do, I just reached into my pocket and thought about something that would help. My hand clutched something hard that felt like a gun, I brought it out pointing it at the three people who had ruined my life. The MCO agent was still fumbling for his own pistol, mostly because it wasn't there anymore.

“I just want my diary and then I'm leaving,” I said, trying to keep my hand from shaking.

“You're not going anywhere,” Ms. Bitch said, stepping towards me her hand extended to take my gun.

“Stay back!” I shouted, trying to watch all of them at once.

While the two agents wisely stayed still, the woman kept coming. My hands were shaking so badly, I didn't know what to do. When she grabbed for the gun it let out a huge bang flying out of my hand. I screamed, expecting to see blood. Instead the air in front of her seemed to shiver and the bullet fell to the floor with a soft thud. She and the MCO agents seeing that I was unarmed jumped on me.

Closing my eyes I thought of going somewhere safe even as I toppled the floor with three heavy adults on top of me. A second later I was free. Looking around I saw that I was in my first foster home where I had actually felt comfortable. I knew I couldn't stay there, taking a moment to my breathing and tears under control I thought of a park in my old town that wouldn't be crowded during a school day.

The wave of dizziness came over me again, but it wasn't as bad as the first time, and I found myself sitting behind some bushes in my favourite part of the park where I'd spent so much time avoiding my Mom just writing in my diary, doing my homework, or reading. It was calm, peaceful, normal.

I broke down in tears.

**

Eventually I recovered from the shock of running away, shooting Ms. Bitch, and knowing that I was a wanted fugitive. I still didn't have my diary, but I had an idea I wanted to try after seeing how I'd stolen the agents gun. Thinking really hard about my diary, the sewn together binding, the pictures and thoughts inside of it, I reached into my pocket and grabbed it.

The moment I felt the thick book, the well worn cover, the stickers I'd put on it over the years I began to smile. I had it, and suddenly all was right with the world.

Staying in California was right out. They'd be looking for me, I'd probably be on America's Most Wanted in a few hours. I'd once visited family in Houston, that would be a good place to get a new start. I wouldn't actually say hello, I barely knew them, but to get new clothes, a haircut, a big meal it was perfect.

I tried to picture a place in Houston I'd visited that wouldn't be too crowded. I thought about a mall I'd visited there, specifically the restrooms. It came to me a lot more easily than I thought it would. Closing my eyes, I teleported.

Before I could open my eyes, there was an ear piercing scream. A saleswoman was sitting on the toilet, trying to cover herself and push me away at the same time. I screamed back in shock, and broke down the door trying to get out.

I bolted from there, and didn't stop until I was out of the mall and a block away. Seeing a busy fast food restaurant, I slipped inside, hoping not only to get a bite to eat but that the crowd would hide me. Money obviously wasn't a problem, so I ordered the biggest meal with another burger on the side and dug in.

Shooting Ms. Bitch didn't feel so bad once I had the chance to think about it. I hadn't even hurt her, probably because she had a forcefield generator like I'd seen on Tales of the MCO. So I wasn't a murderer, and I hadn't meant to shoot her. They'd probably say I was a horrible murderous person, but I really didn't care anymore. They'd already been treating me like a criminal so what if they wanted to add more to it.

Getting another meal to go, I munched on it as I looked for a hair stylist. I had two problems which nicely solved each other. The biggest problem was that I was on the run. The second minor problem was that I was turning into a boy. No one knew I was turning into a boy yet, so it was time to cast my femininity aside and embrace the new me. I could do that, it wasn't like I was super attached to it.

By the time I'd finished my take away, I found myself at a hair salon that was practically empty. Five minutes later I was getting my short messy white hair, that could charitably be called a pixie cut rather than a mop, turned into a more boyish one. It was still white, but that didn't matter much to me. I practised making my voice deeper as we chatted. I found out where the nearest G-Mart was, and even better a youth hostel where I could probably get a place to sleep.

With my new haircut and my baggy tracksuit, I didn't look out of place getting jeans, shirts and other things from the men's section. I'd have preferred shopping with some friends, but still getting clothes that looked OK, and actually fit my new body was a welcome relief. And paying for them was as easy as reaching into my pocket.

A quick trip to the bathroom and as long as I didn't stick my chest out too much, no one would think I had ever been a girl. At the youth hostel I checked in as a boy, and for a few extra bucks they didn't bother asking me for ID. I signed myself in as Chris Kringel, using the last name of a distant cousin that I always thought was funny.

Lying down in a room, able to write in my diary and look over the photos of my old life, I finally felt free of all the cares and worries I'd had to live with for so long. That night I slept like a baby.