Very little is more important than school, but this algebra test means nothing next to the sight of her body against a starry background.
She’s been aware for years that her body is wrong, skin and meat and juices and Incorrectness, but none of the makeup ads and style magazines had understood the reason why or what she wanted to do about it. The dream state almost gets it.
Would she like to recolor her hair? Sharpen her cheekbones? Grow wings? A unicorn horn? Claws, fangs, crystals, purple eyes, pointed ears, platinum teeth?
So many options, so much freedom, but the first thing to do is obvious. She has to get rid of her skin. Pores and hair and sweat glands melt away, replaced by blue metal scales as shiny as a just-washed car. And as the metal spreads, power accumulates.