10.12.98

"Ooh... There's something on this computer that I think you won't like." Sid murmured this to Tara, trying to catch her attention. "Look... Checkitout." He had this odd habit of half-mumbling, half-slurring his words when he spoke, like everything he did was sneaky.

Finally dragging herself out of the realm of words on the page on the screen before her, Tara looked. "Oh. Well..." She blinked, and blinked again. The name of the folder didn't change in the least, sitting their quietly, waiting for the next passer-by to notice. Sid hovered in the background, just behind her chair. Deciding to set a good example, she just shook her head. "What's in here...?" She double-clicked on the folder that was now labeled "Bearded freak's Odds and Ends". "Oh, yeah..." Clicking on the folder once more, Tara renames it.

"'Story snippet'? What'sat?" Sid leaned forward, peering at the screen.

"It's just a really short chunk of a story I started writing." The girl opened the story segment, noting again that it was -very- short and that she ought to do something with it.

Later that day, Tara mulls the problem of the cruel name. It -obviously- meant her, since it was on her folder and because it described her fairly well. It wasn't -her- fault her body didn't know when to stop making the damned hormones, now, was it? It wasn't as if she -wanted- to have this nasty curly -dark- hair sprouting on her upper lip, chin and throat.

She didn't usually like the way she looked, and the last few days seemed to coalesce into something that made her wonder if it was a sign from God... The events of the past days, that was, not the rogue face-fuzz itself.

Tara was of average height, for a girl, woman (whatever) in her very early twenties; her feet fit nicely into women's 7-and-a-half shoes, she was probably overweight but she carried it fairly well, and was rather myopic. She was, however, flat-chested when compared to almost every other female she'd ever seen. 'Bee stings', said her dictionary of slang. 'Mosquito bites'. Nothing terribly unusual in that... She could, normally, ignore her looks (or lack thereof) but not today. Not since the kids at her old school had whispered, not-so-quietly over her androgynous looks on Friday; not since the woman in the store had told the cashier "you can help him first" on Sunday; not since the folder, and later, at the mall, when some people had been standing around in front of a shoe-store and a girl had begun speaking loudly -- She'd glanced over out of curiosity, an oblique and skittering glance, and her sharp ears had caught something mumbled, then "...thought (something) meant... (something) 'are you a boy or a girl?' (laughter)". She knew they meant her, they'd been looking her way, they'd -had- to mean her...

The woman hadn't felt the queries her appearance raised this acutely in just forever. Strangely, though, she hadn't felt the cold, prickling chill of humiliation... Just bitter sadness, and an impotent anger at the fates that had seen fit to visit this evil upon her. She knew it was typical and cliché, but she dearly wanted to know why she, of all people, had been singled out for this. It couldn't have been Drew Barrymore, no, she was one of the lucky, Beautiful People. No, no...

Another day, another dollar... Or two, or three. The family emergency over with, Tara straggled into work the next day, blinking blearily. Sid was there, she smiled a bit and wiggled her fingers as she went by. The rest of the library regs were there, including the ones she wasn't all that fond of. As long as they didn't hurt the books, she wasn't worried.

Her morning was pretty uneventful, the head librarian getting tech support on the line for her and the three of them got most of the logging-on problem taken care of... For the most part.

Then came break.

Tara had been working on one platform, trying and failing to get to some docs she'd saved on a Web-based account. Thinking that her browser was somehow truncating the work, she moved around the corner and tried accessing it from a computer using the -other- platform. No soap, the thing was cut off in the middle and she couldn't fix it.

Oh well... Tara closed the window and poked around on the harddrive, checking on some of her other stuff. Everything looked fine and dandy, but she thought she was missing something. Hm. Oh, that's right, it was saved on the drive of the machine beside her, to the left.

Smiling to herself, she turns her chair and stretches a bit, moving someone else's windows aside and opening her folder. The title in the window made her heart sink coldly in her chest, then constrict with the bitter bile of helpless anger.

"bearded freak'sOdds and Ends", it said.

Again.

Tara's lips pressed thin, her fingers flying as she renames it. Sighing to herself, she replaced the windows and stood, wandering back around the corner. Who'd done it? Why? Oh, screw the -why-, she -knew- why. Why? Because it was obvious that she was ugly, and as everyone -knows-, ugly people, fat people, people that weren't bloody _perfect_ like whoever the *Ahem* was that kept renaming her folder obviously thought they were, don't have _feelings_...

A thought struck her, causing her to wince faintly. Pondering, she turned and leaned back around the corner. "Hey, Sid?"

"Yeh?" He didn't glance up, intent on whatever was on his screen.

"Who was working at number one this morning?"

"Oh, uh, Garret was."

"Garret? Ah... Thanks."

"Yeh."

Garret. Of course... That was his stuff, on the desk and the floor, surrounding the desk. Of course. She watched Sid for a few more minutes, noting that he appeared as sneaky as ever...

She detested this. She didn't -want- to not trust the kids that drifted in and out of the library all day, she didn't want to suspect everyone and be as sneaky and subversive as she could... It was a -lot- of work to do that. It was a lot easier to just go along, all sunshine and polkadots.

Garret.

Now she had a choice. Well, several, actually... Confront him on his lonesome, taking the problem on herself; she could go to the head librarians, which would end up involving her mother, grandmother, Garret, Garret's parents -and- the school admin lady; or she could ingore it for the moment and wait to see if it happened again.

Tara didn't exactly have -proof- that it was Garret, since she hadn't been in yesterday, and therefore had no clue as to -when- the title had been changed... But, as he -usually- sat there, it was an easy enough to conclude that he was the most -likely- to have done it.

Of course, there was no reason to suspect Garret... It could easily have been someone else who was if not polite, at least indifferent to her face. She had the feeling that it was _not_ Toby or Eli, nor Maggie (she always used #4)... Perhaps Clyde, or the excessively quiet Mark. Or Sam, big and distrustful of any platform beyond his favorite.

This time, she noted, finding that appelation on her folder hurt. Had her armor rusted, weakened? No, no... It was stronger than ever. It was just that she'd become so complacent, spending all her time by herself, that she'd forgotten just where it -didn't- protect. So much for her...

She was also fairly certain that it wasn't one of the junior-high kids. They were... With the exception of one, they were all nifty students. The remaining one reminded her all too much of herself at about that age, though she hadn't played hockey or been into the stuff that Jeb was into.

So, now she had to decide. Call him out, tell her superiors, or just leave it alone altogether.

Since the next influx of kids was drifting through the doors, she chooses to leave it alone, for now...

But she wasn't likely to forget it.