Continued from Part 3
It took Mom and I several long minutes to find William's new form the next morning. He kept calling out to us to give hints, but he was so small that his point of view just wasn't helpful to us. "I think I'm in my shirt, so just shake me out!" he finally piped up, getting annoyed at the giants not being able to find him. Mom finally lifted the empty t-shirt, still slightly warm from being worn by a living, breathing human child a few hours before, and we watched in silent horror as a single piece of elbow macaroni rolled out of the bottom. there was no way he randomly hid a piece of pasta in his shirt the night before, so...
"Is that you, William?" I nervously asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. "You just... can't be a piece of - "
"Put me in the box." The boy's voice suddenly interrupted me, saying the most inconceivable sentence Mom and I could've imagined as matter-of-factly as if he was telling us the sky was blue. Why would William want to be thrown into a box, and what box was he talking about? He couldn't mean -
"We're not gonna do that, Willie," Mom stated flatly. "You're my son, not a piece of food."
"Look at me, Mom," William said from his tiny form. "I think you're more than a little wrong about that. Put me in the box with the other macaroni."
Oh, THAT'S what he meant?! I suddenly felt a lurching in my stomach. "Mama, I think I'm gonna be sick..." I dashed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, leaving Mom to try to reason with my little brother while I vacated my stomach of the previous night's meal. Not even bothering to clean up after myself, I found myself curled up on the bathroom floor.
I was vaguely aware of Mom walking by twice, once in each direction. I thought I heard Dad and Evelyn's voices at some point, but I barely cared. My loving, caring little brother who was taller than me was reduced to a noodle, and I wasn't taking the news very well. My tears had formed a small puddle on the bathroom floor by the time Mom came in to check on me.
Dad and Evelyn had helped William convince Mom to do what he wanted. They knew that transformed objects mostly wanted to be used for their form's purpose, and transformed food was no different. William had somehow figured out what he was going to turn into beforehand, and had prepared himself for what that would entail. He wanted to be added to the rest of the elbow macaroni, after which he would stop talking at all. He didn't want us to know when 'it' happened. The combined efforts of a pair of shorts, a swimsuit and a noodle ended in Mom bowing to her former son's wishes. When Mom entered the bathroom to check on me afterward, she held me in her arms as she brought me to the living room, where we stayed for most of the rest of the day in near silence.
With William silent in a box of macaroni, the house became quiet. The next few days were spent checking me in with a pediatric therapist who knew about the Virus, and Mom seeing a therapist herself. We met more Virus victims in the meantime, discovering that others were starting to "just know" what they were going to turn into beforehand, just like William.
This new development had proven especially useful for one 4-year-old girl and her family, since she knew she was about to turn into an entire house. They let the city know about it the day before she was due to transform, and they set up a vacant lot for little Alaiya to become a brand new house. An African-American lesbian couple moved in a few days later, the former little girl becoming a home.
A month later, Mom decided it was time. Around suppertime, I walked into the kitchen just in time to see her pouring our elbow macaroni into a pot of boiling water. I immediately knew what that meant. What was William feeling in that moment, tumbling with the other identical pieces of pasta into the scalding liquid? Feeling his body slowly soak up the water and soften while being stirred around in the seemingly gigantic pot? He was still staying silent while he was being cooked, so I tried to put his inevitable fate out of my mind for the time being, and went back to my room to play with my dolls.
I paused to consider one in particular, a Barbie made to look Japanese that used to be a 13-year-old boy. He had been passed on to me after his little sister transformed into an earthworm, and he was another Virus victim who chose to remain silent. Was this really the future for these unlucky transformees? To be used for their new purpose, willingly denying their own former humanity? I had really gotten lucky with my transformation, only reducing in age and changing race.
I was shaken out of my thoughts by Mom yelling for me. "Wren, supper's ready!" she called, and I set down the sentient doll to run out to the dining room.
I considered the meal set out before me. Mom had made goulash, and I was fully aware that William was in there somewhere. What was that like? Being coated in tomato sauce and mixed in with cooked hamburger and chopped tomatoes, then scooped up into a ladle and dropped onto a plate? I sat at the table, still unsure how I felt about the situation. William was still quiet, and I realized he was probably planning on staying that way.
Mom was studying my reactions, and finally said something. "Please eat, Wren," she said simply, knowing that I hadn't been eating well lately due to my now officially diagnosed depression. Wanting to get it over with, I put my thoughts of my former brother out of my mind, and slowly ate the well-made goulash in front of me.
William never made a single noise.
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Another year went by. We never found out which one of us had eaten the noodle that was once William, and we didn't particularly want to know. His nutrients had been absorbed and used by one of us, and the rest of his form would exist in the sewer for the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, life moved on.
Remember the couple I mentioned earlier? It was decided that I should spend time around them, in preparation for my mother's inevitable transformation. It was highly unlikely she would still be able to look after me, so the couple was fully willing and prepared to adopt me. As it turned out, I loved spending time with them. They taught me more about my new culture, and we quickly bonded over it. Eventually I came to refer to them as bonus mothers, not fully realizing how soon that would come true.
She never told me exactly what she was going to turn into; only that she definitely knew. As she succumbed to the virus that summer, the legal process for Amara and Makenna to adopt me was finalized, and I became their daughter. The night my former mother was due to transform, it was strongly suggested that she share a bed with me. I wouldn't know why until the next morning, but for the time being, I was just glad to spend one last night with the last remaining member of my old family.
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