Richard glared. He hadn't stopped glaring since their latest...mishap. "The Stig had bloody well better turn up soon! You know the only thing worse than turning back into a teenager?" His voice cracked slightly on the words. Apparently, Hammond's voice still hadn't quite settled at that age.
"Realizing you're not actually any shorter than you were as an adult?" Jeremy offered.
Richard punched Jeremy. James let him this time.
Jeremy had turned into a tall and weirdly pretty teenager. The hair was longer and fuller, creating a stylishly unruly 'tumbledown curls' effect, and his face had rearranged himself in a way that made the girls stare.
Richard, on the other hand, had landed in his awkward stage. He appeared to be about fourteen, although he kept insisting he was sixteen, he had spots, his eyes were far too large for his head, the punk hairstyle that was presumably supposed to make him look tough only made him look twelve instead, and he was so small students kept squashing him up against lockers by mistake. He'd been in two fights over this already, and it was only lunchtime.
James...well, he wasn't sure how he looked. Richard said he looked fine, which he suspected meant he looked ordinary. He was avoiding mirrors and trying not to think about it too much.
"The worst bit," Richard said, "is being stuck in a school, in a country where they don't let sixteen-year-olds nip off to the pub for a pint."
In the distance, singing started.
"I take it back. That's the worst bit. Not another bloody musical number!" Richard shook his head. "I don't care what it is, I'm not dancing this time!"
"You'll dance. We all will. We have to." Jeremy groaned. "I just hope I don't have to sing again."
Privately, James thought he wouldn't mind the singing, if he could get away with not dancing, and if he had more interesting lyrics. Sadly, all of the songs seemed to be about minor adolescent troubles. If there'd been a sensible song in there, like "Little Honda", he'd have been far happier.
"Hey." A tall young man with a crew-cut beckoned. "You guys aren't from around here, are you?"
"You bloody well notice that, did you?" Richard answered.
"Not usually teenagers either, I'm guessing." The guy nodded. "Something seriously weird is going on here. Have you met the scary pink chick? If not, avoid the scary pink chick. I'm Dean, by the way."
James shook Dean's hand. "James. The tall bloke's Jeremy, and the short and angry one is Richard."
Dean nodded. "There's some kind of curse on this place. I suspect the scary pink chick. Talk to you after school." He glanced off into the mass of students, and ducked off.
An admittedly frightening-looking young woman in pink swooped down the hall. "Hi, I'm Sharpay!" She looked over at Jeremy. "You're not bad. Did you know there's a school play coming up?"
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"Realizing you're not actually any shorter than you were as an adult?" Jeremy offered.
Richard punched Jeremy. James let him this time.
Jeremy had turned into a tall and weirdly pretty teenager. The hair was longer and fuller, creating a stylishly unruly 'tumbledown curls' effect, and his face had rearranged himself in a way that made the girls stare.
Richard, on the other hand, had landed in his awkward stage. He appeared to be about fourteen, although he kept insisting he was sixteen, he had spots, his eyes were far too large for his head, the punk hairstyle that was presumably supposed to make him look tough only made him look twelve instead, and he was so small students kept squashing him up against lockers by mistake. He'd been in two fights over this already, and it was only lunchtime.
James...well, he wasn't sure how he looked. Richard said he looked fine, which he suspected meant he looked ordinary. He was avoiding mirrors and trying not to think about it too much.
"The worst bit," Richard said, "is being stuck in a school, in a country where they don't let sixteen-year-olds nip off to the pub for a pint."
In the distance, singing started.
"I take it back. That's the worst bit. Not another bloody musical number!" Richard shook his head. "I don't care what it is, I'm not dancing this time!"
"You'll dance. We all will. We have to." Jeremy groaned. "I just hope I don't have to sing again."
Privately, James thought he wouldn't mind the singing, if he could get away with not dancing, and if he had more interesting lyrics. Sadly, all of the songs seemed to be about minor adolescent troubles. If there'd been a sensible song in there, like "Little Honda", he'd have been far happier.
"Hey." A tall young man with a crew-cut beckoned. "You guys aren't from around here, are you?"
"You bloody well notice that, did you?" Richard answered.
"Not usually teenagers either, I'm guessing." The guy nodded. "Something seriously weird is going on here. Have you met the scary pink chick? If not, avoid the scary pink chick. I'm Dean, by the way."
James shook Dean's hand. "James. The tall bloke's Jeremy, and the short and angry one is Richard."
Dean nodded. "There's some kind of curse on this place. I suspect the scary pink chick. Talk to you after school." He glanced off into the mass of students, and ducked off.
An admittedly frightening-looking young woman in pink swooped down the hall. "Hi, I'm Sharpay!" She looked over at Jeremy. "You're not bad. Did you know there's a school play coming up?"