Tom staggered backwards and clutched at his head with a soft groan as new memories filled his mind, memories concerning the young girl standing in front of him.
It was a windy, gray morning April. The trees had just started to awaken from their long winter slumber, but the days were still cold and the sunlight far from warm, especially when they were hidden behind a thick blanket of possible rain clouds. The office was equally chilly, the cold, dry air could send a shiver down the back of anyone not suitably dressed. Luckily you were not anyone that foolish.
"Ackerton" A female voice harped from the nearby desk. You rose from your seat and made your way to the receptionist. She was in her late 40s, possibly early 50s. Her brown hair was dyed a deeper brown than it should have been, but a few gray hairs still poked through. She gave you a look over the rim of her glasses and slapped a plastic guest pass on the counter in front of you.
"Go on through, hon. You know the drill from there"
You thank the woman and take the guest pass, heading for the security door to the right of the main desk where you flash the pass in front of the sensor. The door buzzes and a powered lock snaps open, and you pull the door open and head into the hallway beyond. You'd done this many times before, walking down this hallway, but it nevertheless made you feel anxious, given where it led. Offices and waiting rooms flank you as you pass deeper into the building, coming to a stop at a door labelled '303', the same number that is on your guest pass. You take a breath, steel yourself, and move through the door into the waiting room beyond.
The first thing that hits you is the smell, and your eyes water from the combination of poor hygiene and cigarette smoke. You blink away the tears and follow the scent to it's source; a young redhaired girl in clothes that were too large on her and dotted with deep stains sitting at the table, munching hungrily on a plate of crackers before taking a huge sip of water from the nearby glass. Next to the little girl is a social worker in a deep blue business suit. You'd seen more than your fair share in your time with the program, though much like the hallway you never felt like you'd be a hundred percent comfortable around them.
"Hello! So glad you could join us!" Catherine Deschamps says with a practiced, fake smile on her angular face. Her dark hair is tied up in a bun which does very little to reduce the mental image of her face being hard and sharp enough to cut bread. She hands you a clipboard filled with information, the usual disclosures, the confidentiality agreements, waivers. All things you've done before and you quickly sign your name on each page until you're done. Knowing what to do you pull the papers from the back of the clipboard before handing it back to Mrs. Deschamps, who thanks you before launching into the usual spiel of exposition.
"This is Roberta Bolstrum, but she goes by Bobbi. She's brand new to the program and given the rather...extreme circumstances surrounding her we wanted to make sure she got the most out of the program. That's why we called you"
You nod in understanding agreement. You listen to MRs. Deschamps quielty give you the details; that this Bobbi girl is malnourished, she's underweight and several years behind in her overall development due to what was clearly a neglectful home life. You don't get the full story as there's a layer of confidentiality with case files, but you're told what you need to know: The little girl is an only child who lives with her mom (for now) in the Shermer Fields trailer court. She looks more like she belongs in the fourth grade rather than the sixth, and has been in remedial classes since the third grade. She has no friends and does not get the opportunity to interact with her peers. She's HIGHLY motivated by food but unfortunately doesn't talk very much; the only person she seems to have any kind of conversations with is her teacher and even that is fairly limited.
That's where you come in. You thank Mrs. Deschamps and watch as she goes back to Bobbi, who has finished with her snack, and introduces you to her. After a few awkward moments where the young girl shrinks backwards into her seat and tries to hide behind her long, messy red hair, the social worker gets ups, says a few perfunctory things, and leaves the room. You know that she's just going to the closet space between this rom and the next, to watch the two of you interact through one of the one-way mirrors that dominate both walls.
After a moment you take a breath and then take a seat next to Bobbi, who shrinks away further, staring at you with large green eyes that are filled with confusion and distrust. You spend the next hour of your afternoon treating Bobbi as you would a frightened cat, talking to her in a calm, measured voice, telling her about yourself, your likes and dislikes, leaving plenty of openings for her to join the conversation. You make no sudden movements or attempt to move closer to her, you have to let this little girl come to you.
It takes the better part of your interview hour, and you were just about to give up. You try to stay engaged as you talk about superheroes. It isn't your strongest subject but you figure that even this little neglected girl would have seen at least one of the Marvel films, right? Or knew about Batman? You mention that your favorite superhero is Iron Man; You don't know much about him outside a handful of movies, but you like the special effects with his armor and his snarky jokes. You ask Bobbi who her favorite superhero is and after more silence you look at one of the mirrors in despair, tapping a finger to the side of your nose as the signal for Mrs. Deschamps to end the session.
But then you hear it. A tiny voice, barely more than a whisper.
"I like Black Widow" Bobbi murmurs, as through the gaps in her hair you can see one of those big green eyes flickering back and forth from the tabletop to you, searching for a response. You rack your brain to think of a rejoinder and come up with "Oh yeah, she's pretty cool! What did she do to make her like her?"
There's another long pause before she whispers again.
"She has red hair like me but mine isn't that pretty. I wish my hair could look that pretty"
Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as you hide your excitement in FINALLY having broken through. You give her a compliment back, about how her hair looks pretty in it's own way, and then you spend the next thirty minutes having a on again, off again talk as Bobbi tells you she likes cats but doesn't have one, her favorite color is red and that even though she's not very good at reading, she likes a book series about 'dragon knights' because she wants to fly one day.
Eventually Mrs. Deschamps returns to the room with a box of colored pencils and a coloring book and tells Bobbi it's time for you to go. You get up from the table and say goodbye, but you also ask the expected question: "Would you like me to come back and talk some more tomorrow?". It's the usual bait to see if a child is receptive to the program's idea or not, and after a few moments, her dirty red hair bobs back and forth.
"Yes"
You smile, say that you'd see her soon, and leave the room with Mrs. Deschamps.
"Great job! You're the first person she's opened up to! I think the two of you would be a great fit. Here, follow me to my office and we'll finish the paperwork!"
The memory faded, but the headache persisted as Tom tottered back and forth on his feet. He blinked his way back to his current reality and rubbed his temples in an attempt to push the headache away with very minor success before looking at the still entranced girl in front of him. More information flooded into his brain, though this time it was more basic, and much less vivid. Bobbi Bolstrum was his charge! She was enrolled in a welfare program designed to help her develop better social skills and get to have experiences that she wouldn't otherwise have while her mother was being investigated for criminal neglect.
But it was something that Tom loved to do. He knew he could never be a true superhero like Captain America or Superman, but if he could make a difference with just one life, well, he knew that that was the only thing that mattered. That was why he had joined the...
Option 1: 'Big Sister' program. But wait...They only let girls join the program and that meant...Oh no! Tom looked down to see a generous pair of breasts pressing through a VERY different outfit than the t-shirt and varsity jacket he had been wearing moments ago. He pushed blonde hair out of his eyes as he realized the magical Stone had changed him into a very pretty teenage girl! But wait, what did that mean for Tom, or rather Tammy, and Willow? But Tom is interrupted as Bobbi snapped out of her trance, and began to speak. Did she remember Tom at all? Or did she herself remember who she used to be?
Option 2: 'Big Brother' program. He was actually on loan to the 'Big Sister' program, a rare exception due to his exemplary performance as a Big Brother and the fact that Bobbi seemed absolutely terrified of other females, most likely because of her abusive mother. Bobbi's eyes refocused as she snapped out of her trance, but as she began to speak, did she remember who Tom was? And more importantly, did she remember who she used to be?