That was easier than she thought.  It felt so liberating, just to walk out the front door of the school.  As though there had never been any barrier there at all.  What was she really even there for?  Even the bitter, angry girl she'd been up until now had known that school wouldn't help her.  Even if she did make the grade, her mother would more than likely uproot her just as suddenly and chaotically as she ever had.  Without any organization or, hell, ability to manage herself, she wouldn't be able to transfer any of Esther's grade credit into any other school anyhow.  And Esther, minor that she was, couldn't fill in the blanks even if she wanted to.  No diploma for her.<br/><br/>Yesterday, a thought like that would have wrecked her, balling her up into a viscous coil ready to snap at anything and everyone that wasn't willing to buy weed.  For today, however, she found the thought vexing but ultimately negligible.  If she needed it, she could always get her GED later.  And with her abilities, she could probably make the grade without even showing up, provided she did so correctly.  She pondered whether or not she actually had the ability to get the principal to just sign her a damn diploma and get on with it.  Seriously, aside from the production dates at whatever print shop needed to actually make the damn things, there was no reason anyone would find a discrepancy.  And that's if they actually cared.  It's a fucking HS diploma, after all.  It wasn't even important unless you didn't have one.  Like a tetanus shot, or a belly button.<br/><br/>As she walked, she pondered what actually important to her at the school.  Cynthia was important.  Hallie was important.  Red and Gold were important.  She liked Marshall.  She even liked Leila, although her repressed sexuality and obvious interest made her concerned.  It was as she went through this list that she contemplated whether or not she was moved to<em>protect</em>these people.  It was a strange contemplation.  She didn't want them any of them to be another Dorothea, or another Amalia for that matter.  Then again, even people she actively disliked, she didn't really want to do that to.  So, the question became, did she actively care enough about any of them to actually risk herself?  The old her wouldn't have.  The new her, she realized with a hint of shame, still didn't.  She'd met someone almost just like them all before.  Being bubbly classmates, repressed lesbians, or future great actresses didn't change that.  Even her fellow Trans-humans were still the Jock and the Prom Queen.  She'd seen them all before.<br/><br/>Except for Marshall.  He was unique.  She pondered that as she moved along, realizing that she actually did have a soft, germinating affection for Number Muncher.  She smiled at that, and then scowled a little.  Part of the reason she was able to label people as both 'important' and 'expendable' was because of her rapidly altering communities.  She'd learned to bridge quick, superficial connections and break them just as easily.  She would be hurt if she found Hallie, or Cynthia ruined.  She would be frightened, even stricken, if something happened to Red and Gold.  But she expected, subconsciously, that they would simply be transient faces on her whirlwind life journey.  Marshall..  if she wasn't careful, she'd bridge a real connection.  And then Mother's erratic migration patterns could hurt her again.<br/><br/>Esther listened to herself, feeling vexed, but not bitter.  She remembered the instances clearly when she had started to hate her mother, back when she was 9.  When she still called people best friends, and meant it.  She remembered crying, torn from people her nine-year-old self had loved, for the fourth time that year.  People she couldn't even name any longer.  By the time she was 10, she stopped having best friends altogether.  Yesterday, that had made a hole in her heart that couldn't be sealed.  Today, she found herself thinking how immature she was, to let those days have affected her.  Mom had done her best.  Her best was pretty crappy, but she'd done it.  And it had turned out alright.<br/><br/>Mom.  The image of her made Esther stop short.  She was the one thing that was constant in her whole life.  Hell itself could fall from the air, and that's the only person Esther would try to save.  The only person she would really put herself in harm's way to protect.  It was one of few things Esther knew absolutely.  And like any of those things, she didn't really know why.<br/><br/>Esther was on the corner of Tangle and Ebert.  Down the road was the Trove, as she liked to call it.  LeVere was a beautiful sort, a person who liked oddities and found wonder in the small things.  The two of them had quite a history, and there was a modest,<em>professional</em>attraction there.  And she was comely.  Not like the girls at the school, perhaps, but an older, more exotic beauty.  Esther felt a tinge, as a fantasy ran through her mind, wondering what she'd look like with her long, be-speckled hair and wonder-filled eyes between Esther's legs.  Esther shook her head.  LeVere was one of very few parts of this town that she liked.  She also knew a thing or two about paranormal matters, which might be useful if she needed a slave..<br/><br/>"The fuck!?"  she hissed, smacking her lower back chidingly.  No response came, obviously, but she'd need to inquire further about that.  Still, that meant going to LeVere's today was strictly off the table.<br/><br/>She kept walking, looking at the antique shop.  The boy that ran the place was one of those quiet artsy types.  Dear god, she was running down her list of every eligible male or female in the town.  Was she actually browsing for people to fuck?  Her?  Mom would be so proud... Another time, perhaps, but the moment wasn't right.  She realized she was putting off her choice, trying to fit the shoes that would allow her to feed on someone.  She kept walking by the place, moving down for the McDonald's.  Not today, she thought.<br/><br/>McDonald's made her smile, albeit maliciously.  She knew the history of the place, and knew it would serve her interests and needs well.  She wanted anonymous sex.  I don't know you, you don't know me, we fuck, we part, we never see each other again.  It would keep the guilt away, to a degree.  Esther sat down on a bench she was passing, just to withstand how utterly, completely depraved that sentiment sounded.  It would be easy, nothing simpler, than to have a Happy Meal with a Happy Ending to some nameless schmoe in the stalls.  Quick and painless.  Esther grimaced a little, pondering.  There was a risk, there, of not knowing precisely who she was hurting.  But more than that..  did she really want to have sex in a bathroom stall, again?  It's fine, if you just can't help yourself, but, it'd be nice to have a kitchen counter, or a bed, or..<br/><br/>"..Oh."<br/><br/>A little while later, she was moving down towards the seedier side of town.  Most people would find it off-putting.  But she'd seen worse.  And the people she dealt with knew her lineage.  Mom's bloodline wasn't good for much, but there was a large carny circuit that ran about forty miles to the northeast, and criss-crossed another hippie circuit not too much farther than that.  Hippies and carnies weren't friends, but they shared the road, and so they shared stories.  If the story reached a group of hippies that one of their own was hurt, even peace loving flower children could become real assholes.  No one, thug or not, wanted to get blackballed by people that lived off the grid.<br/><br/>Okay, so maybe it didn't count for that much, but it had gotten her in the door.  Peace-loving or not, a lifestyle hippie was still an outlaw.  That meant trust.  And the people she dealt with down this way knew Esther.  She came up to one of her, ah, associates.  A man named Skinny, who probably weighed about 300 pounds.  It was a statement, and if you were dumb enough to call him on it, he knew he couldn't do business with you.  "Got some skin for me?"  she said, with a grin.  The tips of his lips turned up.  A smile, but a tough guy one.  The kind that couldn't betray that he had his favorites, even here.  Skinny knew Esther and her Mother.  They were trustworthy, but her mother was insatiable, reckless.  A fun woman, and a good source of income, but screwed up otherwise.  Esther, by contrast, was considered prudish, even business like, for a hippie.  She could move product at the highschool, which made her useful, although she hadn't gotten into the sexual side of things.  Skinny liked to think that was because she was still 17.  That made her question a remarkable one.  He wasn't actually sure she wasn't a virgin, in which case, he intoned, he wished she was making money off her instead.<br/><br/>Esther wanted to bargain for use of a room for the afternoon.  And she wanted her partner to be someone..  she didn't know how to put it, someone he didn't like very much.  Someone that needed to fall in or get out.  He may have asked her why.  Her response..  "I'm skipping school to have sex.  If I'm going to be a bad rebel, I want a worse rebel to do it with.  You know, so I look good by comparison."  Somewhere were still the screams, wondering what she was doing.  But she didn't care.  She was actually starting to get excited.<br/><br/>The deal was sealed, a bit of pot and a few white lies ensured that Skinny would get his keep.  She found herself moving to a sound-dampened, upstairs bedroom, walking slowly, feeling like a prowler.  Was this really happening?  Was this really better?  She didn't know.  The more she tried to understand, the less she grasped.  She thought of Billy then, how he'd noticed that in her face the last time they'd spoken.  Maybe that was just the way this worked for now.  Still..