"Seriously?" you asked. "You know how hard it is to get approval to take study hall! The principal only okays it if a teacher support...." you trailed off, suddenly understanding.
Randall smiled. "Excactly. A few other teachers allows one or two preferred students to sit in the classroom during their preparation period. If I - Miss Card - recommend it, then there won't be any problem."
"Awesome!" you said enthusiastically. "And it's at the end of the day. That'll be perfect! Almost like getting out of school early..."
"Whoah, there, Tim," she cautioned. "While I'm happy to spend time with you, I will need to do some work too, you know. It won't all be fun and games. We'll have to come up with a study plan for you and a method of evaluation."
You looked at her in shock. She seemed much more like the real Miss Card than the Randall you knew. "Huh? Are you for real?"
She sighed. "Yes, unfortunately. It may be a pain but I am a teacher now - your teacher in fact - and we both have responsibilities." She gave you an encouraging smile and reached out to pat your hand. "Don't worry, I won't be a 'hardass'," she joked, sounding more like your friend.
You nodded slowly. "Okay..." you said, "I think I get it." You hesitated, trying to find a way to put your thoughts into words. "But...but Randall...dude, you've changed. You seem way different from last week..."
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Tim, you can't call me that anymore. I'm afraid it's going to have to be 'Miss Card' - or 'Laura' when we're alone. It wouldn't do at all for anyone to overhear you."
You rolled your eyes. "See! Even the way you talk has changed. You sound mostly like Miss Card now."
She grimaced. "You're right. Alot has changed." She relaxed back in her chair and continued. "Remember what I told you last time? How I seemed to immediately pick up all the 'woman stuff' your mom showed me? Well, that's become even worse."
"What do you mean?" you asked, feeling concerned for your friend. You leaned forward across her desk, resting your chin on your hand. "What happened?"
She looked a little afraid. "It's everything, Tim. I looked over the lesson plans she wrote and I knew the stuff after only one read-through. I seem to instinctively know where things are in my apartment. I immediately clicked with her friends - like I'd known them for a long time."
"You're remembering her life?" you asked in horror.
"No, no...not exactly," she explained. "I don't have memories per se of anything she did. But certain things are very familiar. Things she did and knew come naturally to me. I tried painting - me, totally un-artistic Randall - and I'm pretty good." She looked you directly in the eyes. "Even my habits and tastes have changed. The way I walk, sit, and talk. The foods I like. It's all different. I feel like I'm losing myself sometimes!"
You clasped her hand with yours. "It's okay Ran...Laura. You're still you, I'm sure!"
She shook her head. "I picked up some of our favorite action movies the other day to try to take my mind off of all this stuff. And I got bored with them. I felt like I was in the mood for something else, so I browsed through her - my - collection. I ended up watching The Notebook. And I liked it - even though I cried!"
The idea of Randall sitting through a chick flick like that - much less crying - drove home how much she'd changed. And in just one week! No wonder she had been **** to talk to you.
She took a deep breath to calm down. "I had a followup with the surgeon the other day. I asked him point-blank about what's happening to me. He gave me a big spiel with lot's of medical mumbo-jumbo, but what I got out of it was this. They didn't put my whole brain in this body; he said they needed to keep much of her 'nerve tissue' in order for me to function in this body. So they transplanted whatever part supposedly contained my memories - my consciousness, I guess. He was very curious and asked alot of questions, but didn't act surprised. He said I would probably pick up much of her mannerisms and knowledge - that the brain was very resilient, new pathways would form....blah...blah...blah. Basically, that while I should always have my memories and know who I was, I would quickly pick up most of her personality. 'It's for the best' he said. 'It will help me adapt.'"
She gripped your hand tightly. "Tim, you're like the only real link I have to my old life. I was dealing with the body thing okay. But music, movies, food - all that stuff that was Randall is gone. You're the only thing that's left. You're still my best friend, and I don't want to lose you. So you've got to stay connected to me, okay?"
She looked at you pleadingly. You were dumbfounded by Randall's revelation and wanted to help however you could. She was your closest friend and you didn't want to lose that. At the same time, you felt a weird connection to her - a sexual tension between you that had been building since the night she took your virginity. You could almost feel the air crackle with energy between you, drawing the two of you together. Unconsciously, you both leaned across the desk, your faces pulling closer and closer together. You lips touch....
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