<strong>Helen Poston and Isolde Black (JP by The Effervescent and Stupendous <span class="bbc_u">Branwen</span> and that Strange Mess of a Girl <span class="bbc_u">mayovagn</span>)<br/>Tuesday 4 September 2012<br/>Mr. Baker's Classroom Latter Part of 7th Period through to lazing about in the basement of the Black House in Isi's room.</strong><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Helen hadn't waited on Isolde.<br/><br/>She'd thought about her though.  Thought about her all through World History and later in last period gymnastics.  Thought about how she looked and how nice she had been to help Helen with her math worksheet.  Thought about those eyes with the beauitful grey rings and how Isolde had blushed, just a little bit, when she invited Helen to come over to her house to help Helen some more.  Thought about her hair.  A lot about her hair.  It was the one thing Helen had been able to stare at all period long without it looking weird.  Isolde's hair was just pretty, like layers of different colors that sometimes held firm and sometimes tangle around one another and made a muddy beautiful new color.  Once, when no one was paying attention to her, Helen had reached out and pulled a short piece of it where it lay abandoned on the back of Isolde's blouse.  Helen rubbed it between her fingers until she dropped it by accident.  What would her full head of hair feel like?  Was it soft?<br/><br/>"Helen!"<br/><br/>The shout made her look up just in time to reach out and help Jennifer from over rotating on the dismount  She was supposed to be spotting, not daydreaming.  Jennifer teetered, weight too far forward, and Helen's hand was too low on her belly, below the moment.  Jennifer went over the hand and landed awkwardly on the mat.<br/><br/>"Oh my god.  Jennifer, I'm so sorry," Helen said and bent down to help her team mate up.<br/><br/>"I'm okay," Jennifer said and pulled herself up via Helen's arm.  "What happened?  I looked up and you were just zoning out instead of watching for me."  It wasn't an accusation, but there was serious concern behind the question.  With the crappy school coach they had, Helen and Jennifer and the other girls who competed on the out of school squad had to more or less run practice themselves.  That included spotting and safety.<br/><br/>"I... I don't know.  I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something I guess."  About someone, Helen's mind corrected.<br/><br/>Jennifer put her arm on her friend's shoulder and shook her a little bit, making Helen look over at her.  "What's got you so worried?"<br/><br/>"Mr. Baker," Helen lied with a facility that surprised her.<br/><br/>"Yeah.  That sucks you got him again. Still, look at Felicity.  That girl had more boobs than brains and she managed to get an A in his class."  Jennifer walked with Helen over to the next exercise.<br/><br/>"He did a lot of tutoring with her.  He wants me to come by after school today and get some help.  Like, he really insisted on it."  Helen and Jennifer waited in line for their turn to vault.  "I don't know though.  I mean, Felicity was in there every day.  And she never looked happy whenever someone mentioned how much he was helping her."<br/><br/>"Yeah," Jennifer agreed.  "But she got an A.  I guess it's like gymnastics.  You have to work for it if you want it.  Anyway, Felicity moved, remember?  Her parents sent her off to some private school."  Jennifer got ready to run down the lane.  "You should go in for help," she said then took off, ponytail flying behind her.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Helen had ditched the last fifteen minutes of gym to go to Mr. Baker's room.  She was still in her leo and shorts in fact, and her grips dangled loose about her wrists.  There was chalk all over her and she was barefoot.  Helen figured if anyone asked her for a pass, she could say she just went to get a drink, or go to the nurse for girl stuff, especially if it was one of the male guards.  That freaked them right out, like they couldn't wait to send you on your way, pass or no pass.<br/><br/>Mr. Baker's door was open and he didn't have a class. Cool!  It had been her plan to just talk to him real quick in the middle of his class and say she'd gotten help from a friend and maybe get excused from tutoring.  But now she would be able to get help before 7th period ended and not have Isolde there, waiting or maybe making Mr. Baker upset.  She also worried about what Isolde would say to him.  She was so... so upfront about things.  Like she didn't care about arguing with adults.  The best part though was they could go right to her house!<br/><br/>"Mr. Baker?  It's Helen?"  She stood just inside his doorway.<br/><br/>He held up a finger to signal her to wait, then finished typing an email and looked up at her.  The merest tug of something that might be mistaken for a smile made his lips twitch.  "Hello, Helen.  I've been waiting for you.  And you're early.  Good.  Come in and shut the door behind you so we won't be distracted by noise in the hallway."<br/><br/>The darkness inside her roiled in uncertainty.  Helen just felt suddenly a little bit like being at the top of a swing and starting to come down on, that moment of everything dropping out from underneath you.  It passed and she shut the door.  Mr. Baker had papered over the little window in it with a picture of a graphing calculator.  "I came by for tutoring," she said and walked towards the desks.  "I thought, since like gym was so slow today, we could do it now?  Is that okay?"<br/><br/>"Sit here instead," he said and pointed to a short stool beside his chair on his side of the desk.  "I like to work with students at my desk where i have everything I need."  He nudged the stool a little bit away from his chair.  "And I'm very glad you came in early. That gives me more time with you.  Good work, Helen," he smiled warmly.<br/><br/>"Oh, okay," Helen said and smiled.  Mr. Baker was being nice!  That never happened.  She took the stool beside his desk.  It was awful close to him, so close she could smell the slightly sour scent of his armpits and the Old Spice aftershave he wore.  "So, like, I got some of the problems right, Mr. Baker.  Another student said so."<br/><br/>"Good," he said and patted her on the shoulder.  "I'm proud of you for that.  Now, let's start with some review."  For the next ten minutes he led her through the steps, working problems and being very liberal with his praise.<br/><br/>Helen started to smile, then started to feel really comfortable with him. Mr. Baker was being so nice!  It was not at all like freshman year. He even kept giving her little pats on the shoulder, the arm, even a hug or two. "This is really helping me, Mr. Baker," she said and looked over at him with a beaming smile.  "Like, way more than you helped me freshman year."<br/><br/>"Well, you've grown up a lot since then, Helen.  You were just a flat chested little girl then. Now, look at you," he said and nodded towards where the leotard was cupping her breasts.  It flattened them down a lot, and she wasn't especially big, but they were breasts.  "All grown up," he said again and put his arm clear across her back and held onto her opposite shoulder.  "Helen, do you want it to be like freshman year?  Or do you want it to be like this, just the two of us working and having fun and maybe you can make an A this time.  Won't your parents like that?"<br/><br/>"Um...yeah?"  She felt more than a little uncomfortable but it was okay.  He was a teacher, right?  And he'd really helped Felicity.  "They would be really proud of me."<br/><br/>"Well, then we have to spend a lot of time together," Mr. Baker said and squeezed her shoulder.  "A lot of time.  Now, work the next problem."<br/><br/>"Okay. Mr. Baker."  He didn't let go, even when Helen started to write.  She was frowning in concentration when he put his hand on her thigh.  Helen stopped, pencil poised over the paper.  "Mis...Mister Baker?"<br/><br/>"Shh," he whispered and leaned in close to her.  His hand squeezed her thigh, the bare skin totally exposed beneath where her leotard ended.  "Keep working," he admonished. "Strive for that A.  You do want an A, right?  Right?" he asked again, a little roughly.<br/><br/>Helen nodded.  The pencil in her hand shook.<br/><br/>"Good.  Now, keep working," he directed and pinched the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.  He didn't let go either, just kept pinching.<br/><br/>Helen tried.  She tried to ignore the feeling of his hand, of the painful pinch.  Tears welled up in her eyes and clouded her work so she couldn't see.  The more she tried, tried so he'd quit, the worse it got.  The pencil lead snapped and she dropped the #2 onto the worksheet.<br/><br/>"That's not very good at all, Helen."  Mr. Baker let go of her skin and began to rub it in circles.  "Does that feel better?"<br/><br/>Helen just sat there, petrified, and the tears threatened to spill over.  She wanted to throw up.<br/><br/>"Does it?" He asked again harder.<br/><br/>"Yes," she whispered.<br/><br/>"So which do you prefer?  This?" he pinched her quite hard making Helen jump but his arm across her shoulder held her down.  "Or this?"  Mr. Baker began to rub her thigh again.<br/><br/>"Please, Mr Baker. Please, I..."<br/><br/>"Answer me," he said and poised his fingers to pinch again.  "Pinch or rub?  You decide, Helen."<br/><br/>"Rub."<br/><br/>"No.  Say 'Please rub me, Mr. Baker. Please make it feel good.'"<br/><br/>"Please ru- ru- rub mmmm me, Mr. Baker.  Pppppplease make it feel good."  The darkness inside screamed to be let out, but the room was too bright, the distraction too much.<br/><br/>"Of course, Helen.  And remember, you asked me to."  He started to rub her thigh, hand moving up higher and higher towards her center.  Mr. Baker started to breath heavier.  His fingers brushed the crotch of her leotard.<br/><br/>The bell rang, startling both of them, and Heather bolted.  The stool fell over with a crack and she fumbled hard at the door.  Just as it opened, Mr. Baker's hand slammed into it, shutting it and he held it with his weight.  "Shhh," he said and stroked her hair.  When Helen tried to move, he grabbed the back of her neck and spun her to face him.  "You asked me to, remember?  If you tell anyone, I'll tell them what you asked me to do, Helen.  What bad things you wanted me to do.  What you asked for," he repeated.  "You don't want that.  No.  You want to be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut, right?"<br/><br/>She nodded, breath coming in shivery little gasps.<br/><br/>Mr. Baker let go and opened the door.  "See you tomorrow, Helen," he called out in a normal voice.  "Good job today in tutoring."<br/><br/>Just like Felicity before her, Helen didn't look happy leaving tutoring.  She walked down the hallway towards the gym, arms wrapped around herself.<br/><br/>Isi was glad.<br/><br/>She was glad that she had met someone she could talk to. She was glad that someone had accepted an invite of help with maths, no, wait, they called it math over here... With math homework. What was that about anyway? You didn't just do it once, you did it repeatedly, it was quite clearly maths. Silly and lazy north Americans. Dropping all the 'U's out fo the good words and calling things by the wrong names. She was glad that she had remembered to find out Helen's name too. That could have been awkward the longer it went. Three years down the line seeing each other in the street and having to admit that the entire time they were friends in high school she never knew the girl's name...<br/><br/>No, Helen seemed nice and interesting and fun and there had been that look that went on too long and felt electric and incredible and Isi hadn't minded at all...<br/><br/>And there was Helen looking miserable and...<br/><br/>Wait... Back up...<br/><br/>Isi stopped, her face hitting a look of concern almost instantly, her heckles very much up she raced over to Helen, "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"<br/><br/>"Nothing happened!"  The words were shouted, completely at odds with her tiny form.  Inside Helen the darkness seethed, roiling in a thick, angry fog that demanded to be let out but was imprisoned as surely as if her arms wrapped around her body held it in. "Just leave me alone," she said and spun to the left, twirling completely around and past any possible chance Isolde might have had of grabbing her.  Several students nearby looked over, hoping for a fight, but when one wasn't forthcoming they went back to hanging out against the walls.<br/><br/>She walked quickly away.  Not from Isolde.  From that room.  From him.<br/><br/><em>He did a lot of tutoring with her.<br/><br/>She never looked happy...<br/><br/>Her parents sent her off..</em><br/><br/>Now she knew why.  Now she understood.  Felicity had been just like her.  She was just like Felicity.  But why did she get sent away?<br/><br/><em>Shhh.  <br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>Remember.  You asked me to.</em><br/><br/>"No, it wasn't like that," she whispered to herself.  "No.  No no no."<br/><br/><em>If you tell anyone, I'll tell them what you asked me to do, Helen.  <br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...tell them what you asked me to do.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...tell them what you asked me to do.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>You want to be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>..be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>..be a good little girl and keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...keep your mouth shut.<br/><br/>Please rub me, Mr. Baker.  Please make it feel good.<br/><br/>...keep your mouth shut.</em><br/><br/>Helen ran into the bathroom and fell onto her knees inside the stall.  The black plastic of the seat was cold on her hands as she clung to it, then vomited what little lunch she'd had.  She kept retching, over and over, even when there was nothing else to get out of her tummy.<br/><br/>What was in her refused to come out.<br/><br/>Isi looked even more concerned and slightly taken aback at Helen's outburst, then followed her through the crowd and slipped quietly into the bathroom behind her. Lifted herself up and sat on the sink block and studied her fingers which were looking odd again, too short, too small. The sound of Helen's distress was too much though and she stalked over to the door, knocking on it quietly.<br/><br/>"Hey. I know you told me to go away, but... I want to help. I have to offer to come in there and give you a hug, because if I don't my heart is going to jump out of my chest and choke me till I do it. I don't want that." There was hurt and care and worry all rolled up in the English girls voice, "Please, if I can, I want to help. Really."<br/><br/>"Don't come in," Helen pleaded.  "I'm...I just don't feel good," she lied then rested her head against the wall of the stall.  It felt so good.  So cold and hard and like it would protect her.  Protect her from him.  Helen's stomach churned and she heaved again.  Heaved until her belly cramped and she could barely breathe.<br/><br/>"Bad fish sticks," she called out to Isolde, then flushed the toilet after wiping her mouth with a wad of toilet paper.  Helen stood up and pulled the door inward, not looking at Isolde.  At the sink she began to wash her hands.  When she looked up into the mirror, her face was pale, freckles standing out in stark relief.  "I'm sorry," she said to the girl in the mirror, but likely Isolde would think it was meant for her.<br/><br/>Isi looked a little different, still the same girl wearing the same clothes but her eyes were a lighter blue and she had a lot more freckles all of sudden, in a pattern almost exactly like Helen's own. Not that Isi herself seemed to have spotted anything wrong.<br/><br/>She watched Helen sweep past and arrive at the sinks, watched her start to wash up, her hands opening and closing a few times, "I... Don't think it was bad food. Only I don't want to force you to talk to me or tell me anything, I just met you, how can you trust me?" Her voice wasn't as English as it was before, a little north American twang had crept into it somehow, this Isi herself did find odd, but she couldn't stop now, had to plough on through. "I do want to help though. However I can. Whatever you need." She looked down at her boots for a few moments, sucking on her lower lip, noticed her hands again, too small, fingers too short, was it a trick of her mind? It had been happening all day, ever since History class. Come to that, her chest was looking, well, fuller than normal, felt heavier. Normally she had practically nothing, now it looked, at least through the heavy cotton boy work shirt she had on, like she had at least an A cup.<br/><br/>"I..." What. The. Haemorrhaging fuck? "I didn't have these earlier..?" She glanced up at herself in the mirror, her face went a little slack she leaned in, "Freckles... What..."<br/><br/>"There's nothing to tell," she shook her head at her reflection.  "Nothing happened," she lied, though every time it came out, the lie became closer to the truth.  Nothing had happened, nothing she hadn't asked him for anyway.  It was all her fault.  She shouldn't have done it, made him do it.  And she had to keep her mouth shut.  "It was bad milk."<br/><br/>Helen shook her hands dry then tried to drown out the voice in her head with the screeching hissing blow of the hand dryer.  She hit it again when it stopped.  Then a third time, hands long since dry but the noise making thinking and talking hard.  She didn't want to think.  "You want to help me?  Help me with math.  Make me understand it," she said, almost angry.  Helen turned around, about to say something else, but stopped.  She looked at Isolde, then at herself in the mirror, then at Isolde again.  Helen came to stand beside her.<br/><br/>"Bend down," she said and put her hand on Isolde's arm, pulling on it.  "Lower."  She didn't stop pulling until their heads were at equal height.  Helen stared at Helen and...almost-Helen staring back at her from the mirror.  Her hand reached out to touch the mirror, finding it cold and glass as expected and her hand met its twin on the glass.  "I thought your eyes were grey," she said.  "But they're the same color as mine.  And were you wearing concealer earlier?  I don't remember freckles."<br/><br/>"My..." Isi looked in the mirror, pulling away from Heather in the process, her face was normal, her eyes were dark blue with grey circles, even her chest was... Flat. Okay, that was a disappointment. Her hands were normal again too. "I think... I think I might be going insane. I had, like, tits, just a moment ago. Little ones, but tits. Now... Nothing. I don't... Normally I have nothing." Isi glanced at Heather in the mirror, back down at her own chest. "Hangon..." She turned her back on Helen, undid the buttons on the cream heavy cotton work shirt. Opened it up and checked out her chest, unaware seemingly that the mirror gave Helen a view of her nipples. "That's normal. So why did it look..." She buttoned things back up, put a hand to her forehead. "Maths. I was going to teach you maths."<br/><br/>Helen looked uncertain, but everything was back to normal now.  Right?<br/><br/><em>You’ll never be normal again.  Please rub me, Mr. Ba-</em><br/><br/>“Shut up,” she whispered.    “Just, shut up.”<br/><br/>“Sorry.” Isi shook her head, “I just... Why would I think...” She put her hands on her chest, felt around, normal. “Sorry.” she said again. “Going insane. Plus, I came in here to help you, not to go stark raving bloody mad.”<br/><br/>“What?”  Helen looked away from her inner conflict and saw Isolde.  Really saw here.  The real Isolde, not the...that hadn’t happened.  Just like Mr. Baker hadn’t happened.  “Isolde?  Can we just go?  I mean, just go to your house?”  She wasn’t even thinking about her school satchel and clothes still in her locker in the gym.<br/><br/>“Of course, yes. Right away.” Isi fidgeted with her messenger bag, gave Helen the best smile she could which was somewhat disappointingly lopsided right then. She nodded again and headed for the door to the ladies. “Ah, I am not very good at finding my way about here yet. Could you lead please?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” she said and took Isolde’s hand.  Helen's hand was small and very clean in Isolde’s, and she’d velcroed her grips up out of the way.  “Come on.”  All the way through the building she kept hold of Helen’s hand.  When they had to pass back by Mr. Baker’s room, Helen’s grip became frantically tight and her palm was all cold sweat.  The fingers began to relax as they moved away until she was just holding it normally again.  Only when they were filing onto the bus did she let go.<br/><br/>The tall, green vinyl seat swallowed her up and Helen scooted to inside, but immediately moved back over once Isolde was seated. Her bare thigh and calf touched Isolde’s leg.  There was already a large bruise forming on the inside of her left thigh, high up near where Helen’s leotard ended.<br/><br/>“Should you have changed?” Isi whispered, “Not that you have to. My mum won’t mind. Geoff might stare of course... He does that. Boys.” She had enjoyed the hand holding, the squeeze past that one door had been somewhat odd. But the hand holding in general had been really nice, it was it seemed wont to cause strange sensations in Isi’s belly and chest.<br/><br/>“I just wanted to get out of there,” she said, voice pitched low because Isolde was talking quiet.  Not like anyone could hear them over the noise of the diesel, the blaring CB radio or the other kids.  “I’ll get my stuff tomorrow.  Maybe you have like a t-shirt or something I can borrow?  Or something you’ve outgrown?”  Helen scooted closer, as if trying to push herself into Isolde.  Then she squirmed some more and put her arm up under Isoldes and took her hand again.  “I’m sorry I threw up.”<br/><br/>“No. Not allowed. No apologising for throwing up. You were... Upset.” Isi ventured, “I think we can steal something from my sister? She isn’t very b... She is smaller. Most of my stuff you would swim in.” The hand holding again. And leaning. Well, almost leaning. This was doing things to Isi, little fireworks were happening in her head. “I’m... We live on the outskirts. Its quite a nice house. You’ll like it.”<br/><br/>And that sounded lame. She ruined it. Whatever it was, whatever was going on she had opened her mouth and said something stupid and ruined it. And now she had that song going through her head, the ‘Something Stupid’ song. Good song. But not what she needed right then. Isi sucked on her lips and glanced down at their hands. Her hand was looking small again. Her breath caught. There was a freckle and she had seen it before. On Helen’s other hand. Isi didn’t have one there, or fingers that short and pretty. Hers were long and thing and some of them curved a bit to the left or right, hand dependent. It was her arm alright, but the hand was... A blink and the effect was gone again.<br/><br/>Isolde’s hand felt...right.  Like it was one of her own she was holding.  Helen rubbed her thumb across the back of it.  It just fit, was just the right size.  Weird, because Isolde was so much taller.  You’d think she would have bigger hands.  Helen kept rubbing little circles, not really sure why, only knowing that it still felt like the right thing to do.  It made her feel better.  Safer.  “You have a little sister?  What’s her name?  Is she pretty like you?”  Now Isolde’s hand felt like someone else’s, and that was okay too.  Because it was Isolde’s.  Isolde.  Isolde.  The name echoed in her head like a mantra.<br/><br/>“Helen.” Isi said, then caught herself, her face going to ‘oh shit’ mode, eyes wide, “Oh, er, no, Heide. Yeah. The girls wound up with German names, the boy with a British one. Our mum is German. She has the accent and everything, though she speaks better English than I do. Except when she’s mad. Then you can’t move for German. Mostly swear words though.” Isi smiled a little at that thought, then frowned, “She hasn’t been the same lately.”<br/><br/>“Everyone in your family has such, I don’t know, exotic?  Exotic names.  Like you’re all actors or something.  Yours is the prettiest.  Isolde.  Isolde,” she repeated, drawing it out.  “Not like Helen.  I mean, what did a Helen ever do?”<br/><br/><em>Should we tell them?</em><br/><br/>Helen banished the voice with a shake of her head.  Her hand slipped from Isolde’s grasp and the shorter girl wrapped her arms around herself again.  She looked down into her lap, to where the bruise was.<br/><br/><em>I made that happen.  I’m not good.</em><br/><br/>Isi’s eyes shot down to where the hand had been. She felt its loss, she wanted to put an arm around Helen, tell her it was okay, that everything was going to be alright, only she didn’t really have the right words. “My mum’s name is Rosamund.” Isi mused, “That’s fairly pretty. Thanks though.” She felt like she was blushing fit to burst, her chest was tight, it was just a name, she hadn’t said that Isi was pretty. Nearly though, and that was so... Nice. And sorta dangerous, but in such a great and wonderful way. Something had the potential to be happening here, but Isi wasn’t sure if it was or could or even should. Helen was hurting, badly, she needed help and... It was up to Isi.<br/><br/>It took a good five seconds of good hard lower lip gnawing, the kind that brings pain and concentration and steels you for the task ahead before the English girl reached out and put an arm around Helen’s shoulders. Pulling her into a simple one armed hug.<br/><br/>As soon as Isolde touched her, Helen squirmed.  But not to get away.  Rather she turned so her back was pressed into Isolde’s side and Helen drew her legs up onto the seat, while at the same time taking Isolde’s hand and drawing it, and her arm, around and in front so she ended up cradled inside the circle of it.  It felt safe.  It felt happy, and Helen rested her chin on Isolde’s arm the rest of the trip.<br/><br/>The bus was all but empty when it pulled into a really long driveway, paved and not dirt or crushed stone.  Helen noticed by the change in the noise the tires made.  When the bus stopped and she felt Isolde’s change in posture, Helen spoke.  “That’s your house?  Wow.  It’s really nice.”  She reluctantly let go of Isolde’s arm and stood up to follow her off the bus.<br/><br/>“We... Sort of won it in a government auction. It needs some work and whoever had it before? They decorated it in ‘Early maniac’ everything is gold and garish. We have a lot of fittings to replace.”<br/><br/>She offered her hand to Helen to lead her off the bus and towards the house. The vintage English racing green MG convertible sat in front of the garage told her Geoff was home. Isi took off her jacket and handed it to Helen, “Here, put this on. Its long and will help. Don’t want too much big brother ogling going on.”<br/><br/>The jacket was warm and smelled of Isolde.  It was the most comforting thing in the world, even if the sleeves flapped loose way past her hands.  It smelled like her and it was warm from her and she’d given it to Helen.  She wrapped it around herself, head almost lost in the neck, and looked like a little Raggedy Ann doll someone had stuffed into a toddler’s coat.  The first thing she did was snake a hand out and reclaim Isolde’s.  “Thank you, Isolde.  It’s really soft.”<br/><br/>She took in the house, every bit of it.  It was huge!  Isolde said she didn’t like the decorating, but everything looked expensive and classy to Helen’s firmly blue collar eyes.  What would it be like to live in a house like this, instead of one where you could hear everything going on outside and the windows leaked air around the bottom edges?<br/><br/>“Are we going to go to your room or the kitchen table?”<br/><br/>“My room.” Isi said firmly. “Fewer Geoff’s there.” She took Helen in via the back door next to the garage, not really a back door per-say as it wasn’t at the back of the house, but the closest they had in the Black household. The corridor inside revealed a laundry room a door to the garage and the door to the cellar. It was the latter that Isolde took. The stairs were really wide a strange feature that had come with the house. The carpet was a garish yellow currently, though that would likely change by the sound of things. They passed a family room and Isi lead the way to her bedroom.<br/><br/>It was. Big. Bigger than a bedroom likely had any right to be. With a kingsize bed and a three seater sofa, a large computer desk with a pair of large monitors on it that looked old but serviceable. There were little clues all over the room to Isolde’s general state of mind.<br/><br/>She had girl stuff like stuffed animals, yet also there was a shelf above her computer desk with classic Generation one Transformers re-issues and even a few original un-boxed ones. She had a fully built original European issue of Redhorn the Terrible and a number of other smaller wind up reds, which was incredibly rare in North America as Zoids weren't officially released there at that time. She had an action man wearing barbie clothes holding a spatula holding hands with a Barbie doll wearing action man clothes holding an assault rifle. Someone had taken the time to re-cut the clothes, even adding fabric in the case of the action man, to make them fit right. She had posters on the walls, all in frames, all for films.<br/><br/>Reservoir Dogs, Unforgiven, The Breakfast Club, The Killer, Twelve Monkeys, Brazil, The Iron Giant, Metropolis (original Fritz Lang), Hellraiser, Evil Dead II, Alien, Fight Club and last but not least Monty Python's Life of Brian. Her computer desk was tidy, though the full size resin model of the Lament Configuration puzzle cube next to her mouse looked almost real. Yet sat the other side of it was a book of stickers of little cartoon kittens. The whole room was like this, a seemingly mismatched jumble of boy and girl stuff.<br/><br/>Isi wandered in and sat on the sofa, putting her messenger bag to one side, she smiled, “Home. Well, kinda. Not really sunk in that we own the place yet. Government auctions are cheap, but you wind up getting what you get. We got this.”<br/><br/>Helen didn’t sit, not immediately.  She walked around the room, hem of Isolde’s jacket reaching down to mid calf, and just looked at things.  She pulled out the kitten sticker book and went through it, smiling a few times, then put it back.  Often she looked over, making sure Isolde was still there and smiling when she was.<br/><br/>“This is so cool.  You have so many nice things.”  Helen walked back over and stood in front of Isolde.  “I bet it gets dark down here, huh?  Like, really dark.  Does it?”<br/><br/>“It does. With no windows down here and all. There are two in the bathroom, but they don’t let in a lot of light anyway, being small.” Isi smiled, “You want me to turn the lights off?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Helen said, sounding very interested.  “I do.  I want to see how dark it is down here with everything off.”  She swiveled side to side, suddenly excited looking and happy, then looked around.  “Okay if I sit on the edge of your bed?”<br/><br/>“Oh, of course, you can lay on the bed if you like.” Isi nodded, stood and walked over to the door to the bathroom, vanished inside, there was the sound of blinds being drawn down. She was back out a moment later and closed the door. She then headed out and turned the lights off in the family room and stairs down from the floor above. Finally coming back into her room and closing the door before turning off the lights.<br/><br/>It was pitch black. “How’s that?” A voice in the dark.<br/><br/>“Perfect,” she said breathily.  “Just perfect.  Oh my gosh, this is so nice!”  It felt way different than the closet.  Bigger.  Open.  More space to play around in and more dark to be wrapped in.  Helen hugged herself, sleeves flapping loudly in the black room.  “I wish I lived here.  That this was my bed in this wonderful dark room.  I bet you sleep so good!  No light to bug you.”  There was the sound of bedding rustling as Helen laid back on it.  Her feet didn’t quite touch the floor where they dangled from the end of the bed.<br/><br/>“Isolde? Can we leave them off for a minute?  I just want to relax.”<br/><br/>“Of course we can.” Isi blinked, then again, she could almost... There was just the hint of... That was weird. Like a warm body showing up against the dark. Almost there but not. Then as she started to examine it, really think about it, she lost it again.<br/><br/>Isi shuffled across the room, hand reaching out to feel for the edge of the bed. She found it. With her leg. Topping forward she fell face first on the large soft but firm mattress.<br/><br/>“Are you okay?”  Helen pulled her legs up onto the bed and got onto her knees.  She took the two shuffling moves necessary and felt her knees brush into the side of Isolde.  Floppy hands, all covered in cloth, reached out and patted to determine just where Isolde lay.  “So, maybe not the best idea, but I still like it.”  And she did.  Already Helen felt calmer, like what had happened were no longer something that could hurt her.  She was safe in the dark, at home in it.  Just like always.  “Get the rest of you on the bed,” Helen urged and mock tugged on each side of Isolde’s ribs.  “Then we can stretch out and not worry about tripping over anything.”<br/><br/>Isi climbed up onto the large bed and laid herself down next to Helen. “You are a fan of the dark then.” A statement not a question. “I like it too. Its nice sometimes. Gives you that floaty feeling.” Isi was quiet for a few moments, “So, did I tell you about my dad?”<br/>