Chapter 13

Surprising Revelations

Wiping the sweat from her eyes, she glanced around and saw Mr. Brodrick putting up the tools and switching off the portable forge. Taryn was tiredly making her way to her stall. Sylvie felt as if she had played a hundred soccer games, her legs were sore and her breath came in tiny gasps. Making her way to her stall, she was surprised to find a pitcher of water sitting in a large bowl with a washrag and a bar of soap beside it. Mrs. Brodrick must have brought it out. She was something else, that Mrs. Brodrick. Sylvie gave a private cheer and trotted over. The water was lukewarm, testifying how long it had been out there, but Sylvie didn't care. Peeling off her now grubby shirt, she eagerly began to wash her arms, chest and face. There wasn't much she could do about her hair, but thankfully a quick brushing was all it needed. Putting on a good shirt she trotted out of her own stall.

Outside, she paused by the striped curtain that served as Taryn's door. Behind it she could hear Taryn alternately sniffing and cursing. Sylvie assumed she had gotten her hair brush caught in a knot and was trying to pull it out. Wincing in sympathy, Sylvie wondered if she should even go in. Taryn might resent the fact that she needed help with her hair. It was a ridiculous sore point, as Taryn was very proud of her hair, and rarely cut it. As a result, it hung almost to her waist. Sylvie preferred to keep her hair short like a sensible person. After all, long hair had a nasty tendency to get caught in things and blow across her face. Still, she knew that long hair sometimes needed help with detangling and such. She should definitely go in to help. As she thought, her tail swayed across her haunches, betraying her indecision. Firming her jaw, she pushed aside the curtain and strode in with a flick of her tail.  

Inside the small enclosed stall, the single lamp that the Brodricks had thoughtfully brought in cast a soft light that illuminated the room easily. Taryn was standing next to her cobbled up dresser with her pocket mirror set in front of her and her thick comb in her other hand. As Sylvie had already guessed, it was caught in a thick snarl of hair that had completely entrapped the comb. Taryn's tugging at it had only made it worse, in Sylvie's opinion. Taryn's eyes caught her from the mirror and she snapped at her, "Well, are you going to help me with this or not?" The frustration in her voice was plain. Suppressing a giggle Sylvie carefully made her way over to help. In the confines of the stall, there was little room to maneuver her bulk, but she managed to get close enough to grab the comb from Taryn and set about making the snarl go away.

As she worked, she elicited a tiny whimper from Taryn each time the comb tugged at her hair. Each stroke pulled the head back as she pulled and forward when it came out. Taryn's eyes never left the mirror as she worked. Taryn kept biting her lip as if in deep thought. Something seemed to be chewing at her mind. Sylvie thought about asking her what was wrong, but decided against it. Surely she would tell her what was wrong in her own time. It was probably something to do about her mom. Sylvie knew Taryn felt terrible about leaving, and so did she. There wasn't much anybody could do about it however. I hope Ben finds Roland soon. Otherwise, we're going to be in deep with no way out.

"How do you do it?" Taryn suddenly asked, surprising Sylvie.

"What do you mean?" Sylvie asked. The conversation was not going the way she was expecting.

Taryn gestured back at her. "How do you stand being a centaur?" she elaborated slowly, as if Sylvie was being particularly dense.

Sylvie's response was automatic, and the quip slipped out before she could stop herself. "On all four feet."

Immediately, she knew that was a mistake. Taryn scowled back at her. "You know what I mean." She muttered fiercely. "I look at you and it's almost as if I don't know you. You look and act like a centaur, to the point where I can't even tell you were even human once. Everytime I turn around, it's like you've adapted. Like you've accepted that this is you and the human is gone forever."

Sylvie almost dropped the brush at the torrent of words. She felt her anger rise. How DARE she imply that she didn't want to be human anymore. Of course she did, didn't she? Now where did that thought come from? She wondered. However, there were more important things to do right now and she shoved that thought firmly out of her mind. "Of course I want to return to being human!" she replied heatedly. "I want to be human as much as you do. Do you think I like being a centaur?! I don't! I miss my friends, I miss my team, and I even miss school, as weird as that sounds." Sylvie set down the comb. Her hands trembled in anger. Or was it fear? "I hate that this has been done to us. I would love nothing more than to choke that sniveling weasel Roland and stuff him into one of his own costumes. However, there is nothing I can do until he is found. I can't do it. I can't even walk down the street without causing a big scene." Her left foreleg stamped the ground in anger, making the hoof ring loudly against the pavement beneath. "The only things that are good so far are the running and the strength that have come from this." Abruptly, the heat was gone from her voice. "What else can I do?" she asked wearily.

What else can I do? The question seemed to hang in the air. Sylvie studied Taryn's face, searching for any clue that she understood. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and her face was drawn. It looked like she might even cry. Sylvie felt helplessness crash down on her. Taryn had always been the quiet one, never lashing out in anger at anyone or letting anyone seeing the hurt. Sylvie supposed it was due to always having to take care of her mother. Without her to anchor her, Taryn had become rudderless, and it was clearly upsetting her. Sylvie put her arm around Taryn in a comforting fashion. "Hey." She said softly, brushing off the soft tear. "Don't worry. We'll get through this. If there's one thing I know, is that we'll be human soon, and this will seem nothing more than a bad dream."

Taryn looked at her disbelieving. "You sound so certain." She muttered. "I can almost believe you."

Sylvie put the broad grin on her face that was her signature. "Of course we'll get through this. Just stick with me. Have I ever led you wrong before?" The time she had prodded Taryn into stealing some cookies came to mind. Of course, they had gotten caught when they had taken too many and ended up being sick. Taryn's snort interrupted her, telling her what she thought of that. Grinning sheepishly now, Sylvie went back to brushing out Taryn's long brown hair.

When the girls had finished, they went out to see Mr. and Mrs. Grogan waiting for them with another fold-away table laden with baskets of fruit, bowls of oatmeal and plates of steak. Squealing in delight, the rushed up to the table only to be stopped cold by Mrs. Grogan's stare. It seemed to pierce her and fill her with shame. Embarrassed, Sylvie hung her head and muttered apologies. Taryn said the same thing next to her. Much slower now, they took their places at the table. After Grace, Sylvie piled on salad and steak on her plate. Oatmeal sang to her however, and she took a large bowl of that as well. Picking up her spoon and fork, she proceeded to devour the food in front of her. In between bites, she spoke to Mr. Grogan.

"What's next?" she asked around a mouthful of oatmeal.

Mr. Grogan took a moment to respond, wiping his lips with a floral print napkin that seemed at odds with his usually morose attitude. "Well," he said slowly, "the next step is to bring in that old horse bath and get it repaired. Since Benny says you can't be seen outside for a while, I'll bring it into the barn and we can work on it. When we are finished, we'll run you girls through it before bedtime chores."

Taryn glanced up from her plate of salad. "A real bath sounds heavenly." She said, a note of excitement in her voice. "I would love to be clean again." She finished, somehow making it sound as if she hadn't had a bath in months instead of just a couple of days. Well, almost a week now.

"That sounds great." Sylvie agreed, not to let anyone think that she enjoyed being any dirtier than she had to be. "It could even be the best opportunity to wash our hair out as well." She ruefully ran her fingers through her mop of red hair. Thick oils and other things she didn't want to think about coated her fingers. Yes, a bath definitely sounded like a good idea. Then she noticed Mr. Grogan looking at her with a sour look on his face. She was wondering what his problem was until she saw that she had polished off all her food, enough for two or three people. No wonder he was upset, at this rate Sylvie and Taryn could eat them out of house and home! Sylvie resolved to watch her intake of food to help keep the peace. She sighed slightly. A diet. She had never gone on a diet in her life. Intense sports and running had taken care of her body. Granted, she tended to eat more healthy foods anyway to maintain her edge, but her weight had never been a problem. Well, whatever stood against her could be beaten. This was just another opponent to be beaten.

Sylvie helped Taryn with the dishes while Mr. Grogan stepped outside the barn. Minutes later, she heard the sound of a tractor firing up. Mrs. Grogan trundled the wagon of food and dishes towards the house while Taryn and Sylvie opened the large doors to allow Mr. Grogan to brin in the large tractor with a scoop on the front. Attached to the scoop was what appeared to be a jumble of piping arranged in a square cage. She was unsure what to make of it, as it was brought in and set on the floor. This thing has been outside a looong time, she immediately noticed. The bars had a coating of rust on them, several wires appeared to be exposed, and there was a coating of leaves, needles and other crap on it.

She stared at it with some dismay, echoed by Taryn's statement, "You expect us to wash in that thing?!" Taryn shuddered as she stared at it and Sylvie couldn't help but agree. This thing didn't need repairs, it needed to be scrapped.

Mr. Grogan came in from the side door. He must have heard Taryn's cry of disgust, because he addressed his next comment to her. "Don't worry yer head about it. I'll get it fixed up in no time." And with that he strolled over and got to work. Sylvie and Taryn hung back to watch. He first selected a series of brushes to clean off the dirt and much that had coated the machine. Then he took a spray can from the shelf. Apparently, it was quite dangerous, because he put on a breath mask and goggles and gestured to them to move to the far side of the barn, something they were only too glad to. He sprayed a thick layer of foam over the bars and exposed metal before taking a thick brush and scrubbing. Then he took a rag from a bin in the back and cleaned off the foam. To Sylvie's shock, most of the rust came off! That was amazing stuff! Giving a grunt of satisfaction, Mr. Grogan returned the can to the shelf and the rag to the bin. Feeling that it was safer to come back, Sylvie walked closer. He grabbed a series of pliers and wirestrippers, as well as some spare wire from a drawer in the workbench in the office.

Sylvie felt antsy. She wanted to help she realized, but was unsure if she would be a help rather than a hindrance in her new body. Her mother had told her more than once in her life, "Girl, if you stand in the back of the class, you'll never get noticed. Take the plunge and walk up to the front. For good or ill, you'll always be remembered." Not exactly the best advice, perhaps, but truthful nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge.

"Excuse me Mr. Grogan," she asked softly. "Could you use some help?" Mr. Grogan paused from his work and looked up. "Possibly." He said looking her over. Finally he gestured, and she trotted forward. He pointed towards the tools set on the ground next to him. "Pass me those tools as I need them, and you'll be a big help." He told her. It wasn't the job she had envisioned him needing help with (moving the thing into the garbage seemed a good use of her strength) but she nodded.

As they worked, she fell into the rhythm of the project. Hand tool over, receive used tool and set it in the appropriate spot on the floor, take new tool up and repeat the process. Over and over it went, as his pliers poked and prodded at the worn wiring, using alcohol to clean connection points and occasionally changing out a wire with a new one and soldering the connection. Check connections for weakness and move on. The smell of burnt plastic and wire permeated the space and tickled her nose, but she pushed past the irritation and continued passing tools over and over. Occasionally, there was a spot he couldn't fit his hands in, and she would help as best she could.

Finally the time came for the final connection to be tested and then Mr. Grogan stood up with a muffled groan. Sylvie felt like echoing him. Standing like that had made her legs sore, the continuous bending had put kinks in both her backs and she didn't think she would ever get the smell of burnt plastic out of her hide. The washer however gleamed from their attentions. It still had the leprous rust patch on it, but the bare steel stood out against it, the wiring was in good condition now, and all the nozzles had been cleared and were ready for use. Mr. Grogan appeared with a bottle of spray paint. "Just one last thing to do, and we can get it ready for your use after supper." He said. Startled, she turned and saw the door was open and Taryn and Mrs. Grogan were setting up for dinner. He had lost all track of time while working. Shrugging, she went to wash up while Mr. Grogan sprayed on the quick drying paint.

Taryn was finishing setting out the bowls of oatmeal when she returned. Nodding her thanks, she stood quietly by her end of the table and waited for Grace to be said. Mrs. Grogan said the words and the barn resounded with their tired "Amen". Weariness filled her limbs and her back screamed at her, but she was proud of her accomplishments. For the first time in a long time, she was useful again. That fact filled her with a warm glow as she settled down to eat. Despite her earlier vow, she began eating voraciously to fill the aching hole in her middles. Her stomach was ready to riot against her if she didn't fill it, so she immediately tackled the oatmeal. She was so hungry; she felt a vague feeling of disappointment when she scraped the bowl clean. Turning to the plate and its generous helping of salad, she heard her stomach growl and rushed to fill it. In very short order, all the plate had been emptied of the meal and she stepped back from the table with a sigh of contentment. She heard Taryn mumble something about wanting dessert, but there was no real desire for it. She felt that there was no real need for it, as her stomach felt full and satiated.

With the hole in her middle filled, she thought longingly of the shower that awaited her. In the days since her transformation, there hadn't been an opportunity to wash up at all. The most she had been able to done was spit baths using a damp rag to rub clean her upper body. The horse bath would be heavenly, even if the water would be cold. Idly, she wondered if there was a way to warm the water, but dismissed it quickly as sheer fantasy. While they had worked on the wash, she had seen no evidence of heating coils.

When supper was cleared away, Mr. Grogan showed her how to use the bath. The controls were surprisingly simple, just turn a knob to start water flow and step in. One could operate it while the other was inside. After he finished his explanation, he left for the house and left them alone. Sylvie and Taryn looked at each other and giggled in relief slightly. "Which of us wants to go first?" Sylvie asked quietly.

Taryn gave her a small grin. "How about you? I watched close enough that I think I know how to operate this thing. You helped build the sucker, so you can use it first."

That seemed fair, so Sylvie pulled off her shirt and reached behind her back and undid the clasp that held her bra. Tossing her clothes in her stall to be taken in for washing later, she stepped to the center of the machine and nodded to Taryn. She gave her a quick thumbs-up and then turned the knob. Sylvie almost yelped when the nozzles hit her with cold water. Tucking her arms around her chest she tried to keep from screaming as the ice cold water sprayed her body back to front. It seemed a slow and agonizing process, yet one it reached her front, the water seemed warmer somehow. Water cascaded off her flanks and pooled at her feet. Fortunately, a drain set in the middle of the sloped floor succeeded in carrying away the waste water. That was as much as she noticed before soap from the nozzles now covered her in lather. She held her breath, fearing that if she breathed she would get some in her mouth. She suppressed her irritation at that. Taryn should be more careful with the water!

When she finally stepped out of her shower some time later, she was dripping wet and felt as if she had been tossed into a lake. Taryn stood off to the side and handed her a towel. "What's so funny?" Sylvie said irritably as she began toweling off. "Nothing." Taryn said. However, she seemed to be struggling to keep in her smile. Sylvie sniffed slightly then grinned. "Well, as soon as I get done, then we can do yours." She said sweetly. She gave a smile of satisfaction as Taryn's smile was wiped off her face.

Getting some clean clothes from her pack, she hurriedly dressed in a pajama top and then went over to the machine. Taryn had already removed her clothes and stood hugging herself from the damp air. Sylvie turned the dial to wash, and nozzles sprayed out and hit Taryn in the rump, causing her to jump. "Hey!" she shrieked. "Warn me next time!"

"Sooorrry" Sylvie sang. That should teach her for taking so long! Then she tried turning the knob to make the cycle end faster, but found she couldn't. The knob was on a programmed setting and would not move any faster or slower. Sylie chewed her lip slightly as she realized that Taryn couldn't speed up the process even if she had wanted to. A sigh escaped her. Taryn was not going to let her forget this, she thought unhappily. There was nothing for it now, though. Turning her attention back to the controls, she kept an eye on the cycle to make sure the washer didn't break down as it ran through the soap and rinse cycles.

When the nozzles finally shut off, Taryn all but leaped from the washer like she had found a live viper in there. "That…was…COLD!" she shouted. She flapped her arms around like a chicken until Sylvie could toss her a towel. "True." She agreed. "Still, it was nice of them to go through all the trouble to fix this up for us. By the way, where did the towels come from? I found them on the stool next to the machine."

"Oh, Mrs. Grogan brought them in while you were in the soap cycle." Came Taryn's muffled reply as she toweled her hair.

Well, one mystery was solved anyway. Sylvie waited for Taryn to dress before removing her come and laying down on the floor near the bedding. Taryn had laid down herself, careful of keeping her muddy hooves off the mattresses. Sylvie then started brushing her hair, chatting lightheartedly about school and Josh and ice cream. Taryn for the most part kept quiet and answered occasionally, she seemed to still be trying to warm back up. Although she gave a pained yelp every time the brush snagged one of her snarls.

With Taryn's hair finished, she bid her good night and stood up to return to her room. She returned her stuff down and glanced at her mirror. No time now to do her hair, it had almost dried. Still, a few strokes to get it straight wouldn't hurt much before bed. Moving to her bag, she pulled out her red brush and began smoothing out her hair. Fortunately having short hair meant that it took only a few minutes to do so. Returning the brush to the bag, she laid down on her mattress, also sticking her legs out slightly to keep her hooves off the mattresses. As soon as her head hit her pillow, she was fast asleep.