Sometimes, it is what you do that matters. Sometimes, it is who you are. Usually it is just being in the proper place at the proper moment in time with the will to act.

I have problems with my family. I'm sure you're saying that everyone has problems with their families. Mine are different, and possibly more severe than yours. You see, I have always felt that there was something about me that was wrong, didn't fit, or simply was broken. I don't consider myself special in any real way. It's just that I would remember events from the past differently from the rest of my family.

I remembered getting a dress for my fifth birthday. For half of the population, this wouldn't have been a big deal. That's because you are all girls. The other half of the population, the one that I'm a part of, are boys. We don't usually get things like dresses or dolls (Christmas of the same year). I don't remember being disappointed. Well, not when I received it. I went to look for the dress a couple of weeks later, because I wanted to show it to one of my friends, and it wasn't there. I asked my mother where the dress was, and she got a strange look on her face. I never asked about the dress after that. Or the doll when it went missing.

Life for me was like that. I would have an event happen, that later no one around me would remember. Like my first date with Brian Reynolds. I remembered him asking me. I remember the search through clothes I have never owned to find just the right thing to wear. Putting on make-up that didn't exist. I remember him trying to kiss me, and puling away from him.

I was twelve at the time.

It is also the event that lead me to believe that I was a little bit insane. I knew that I didn't have a vanity in my room. I knew that the yellow comforter with the lace frill had never been on my bed. But I clearly remembered them from the whole "date event". Brian was my best friend, and I couldn't ever see him asking me on a date. He is girl crazy. And like I said before, I'm a boy. Sure, I'm a bit small for my age, but that is normal for someone in my condition.

I just took a moment to read back over what I've written, and man, I'm so wordy here. I'm telling the story. Let's get in a little show, shall we? (Mrs. Henderson would be proud)
---
Jamie opened his eyes.

That's me, James Patrice. Everyone called me Jamie til my 9th birthday. After that most people switched to Jim. Damn you Jamie Summers, I really liked Jamie as a boys name. Sure, it was re-runs but the teasing at school made the name unbearable. Also, you may notice that I tend to talk about myself in the third person in flashbacks. Get over it ;)

He had gone to bed excited for today to come. He couldn't now remember why. He lay in bed on his Transformers sheets looking at the model of the Millennium Falcon he had suspended from the ceiling with fishing line. The Tie Fighter had fallen to the floor again, and luckily, this time, it didn't break.

Then he remembered. Today was his first outing with the Cub Scouts. They were going to a BMX rally and would even be allowed to try some of the tricks. He jumped out of bed and threw on his blue Cub Scout shirt with a pair of jeans. He didn't have any of the rank badges like the other boys yet, but he'd only been eight for a week. He had finished all of the requirements for his Bobcat badge and his dad said he would be there to "Turn Him" into a Bobcat at the next Pack Meeting.

He put on his yellow bandanna and raced downstairs to gulp down some breakfast.

"Slow down, Jamie. You're food isn't going anywhere." Jamie's mom, Helen, said to him with a smile.

"But, Mom," Jamie whined, "I don't want to be late."

"No whining, Jamie. You still have time before they get here."

Jamie moderated his pace just a little, but patience hadn't ever been his strong suit. He had to wait a long time after breakfast for the Den Mother and the rest of his Den to show up so they could head out.

In reality it was probably only about 10 or 20 minutes, but an eight year old never really pays attention to time. It doesn't mean anything to him yet. Especially in this simpler time without the internet, widespread games systems, or cell phones.

They finally arrived and he rushed out the door to the waiting station wagon.

For all the youth who aren't yet bored to tears with my ramblings, a station wagon is like an SUV. . .actually, it is more like a limo. Only not as glamorous.

He climbed into the back of the station wagon through the rear door.

You know, like a hatch back. You know what? How bout this: http://www.google.com/images?q=plymoth%20station%20wagon&oe=.... That will give you an idea. Having not had it until recently, I often forget about the internet.

The boys joked around while they traveled out of town to the race track. BMX was big at that time. Especially Freestyle. Jamie loved watching the flips and jumps of the bicycles.

There were some competitions running when they got there, so the boys rushed over to the fence to see older teens compete.

"Look at that!" Jamie yelled as one after another the racers did a flip on the ramp right in front of them. He watched how they pulled back on the handle bars at the last instant, and went mostly rigid while in the air. "I could do that," Jamie whispered to himself. His best friend Brian heard him whisper.

After a couple of runs, and some more jumps, flips and twists, Mrs. Lewiston led them over to a fenced in area.

"Hi, guys. My name's Brad."

"You're Brad Davis!" Jamie enthused.

"Yes, I am. Three time cup winner. Let's get you checked out on these bikes and let you try a few jumps. The main thing to remember about jumping bikes is that whatever you start doing before you leave the ground continues after you leave it. Try and be straight up and down. Just let the jump happen and you should all be good."

Jamie knew instantly that what he had been thinking had been right. You start the flip before you leave the ground. It starts on the ramp. "It's so easy," Jamie whispered again.

"Bet you can't do a flip," Brian said almost casually to Jamie.

"I can so." Jamie replied. Jamie was the youngest of the scouts and always felt that he needed to prove himself.

"Ok, then, do it." Brian said with a little smile.

"Ok, then I will."

Jamie rode up the highest hill, since he thought he would need some speed. He pedaled down the hill as fast as he could. As soon as he pulled back on the handle bars at the top of the ramp, Jamie knew that everything was going to work perfectly. The earth whirled around him. He saw the sky, followed by the hill, then the ramp, still going, and he saw the landing point. Everything was perfect and he let out a little whoop. His feet slipped off the pedals as he landed on the ground. He crashed into the metal crossbar of the bike. He felt something break as he tumbled to the ground. He vomited his breakfast on the mud before passing out.

Jamie awoke in the hospital.
---
Mrs. Henderson, my creative writing teaching in junior high always told me that it was better to show a story, that to tell it. Sometimes, I think, a little bit of tell goes a long way. Especially when I am trying to introduce you to my life.

I had landed on the cross bar hard enough to break my pelvis. Everything between the cross bar and my pelvis was crushed. They reconstructed my penis, but there are things that can't be reconstructed with simple plastic surgery. That's right. I produce no testosterone. I'm 14 and I am never going to grow a beard, bulk up, or anything else a normal boy my age will do. Well not without hormone shots. And I'm not even sure those are the shots I want.

I blame my shrink.

After the accident, my parents got me together with a child psychologist.

Ok, this is another reason that my family and I don't get along. I hate my Psychologist. I prefer his wife Mary. She's also a psychologist, but I see her as a friend. My Shrink (I never acknowledge his name. He gets frustrated with me.) isn't my friend. He is paid by my parents, and tries his best to get me to agree with them. He wants me to be a boy. I'm not so sure who I am.

I've told Mary about my false memories. Even about the date with Brian. I told her about how it made me feel. About my anticipation for the event, and disappointment when he didn't treat me like a lady.

I told my Shrink about my fifth birthday party and the dress. He calls it a fantasy. That was the last time I told him about one of my false memories.

Judy and I usually speak over the phone. I asked her once what she tells her husband. She said she considers me her patient, even if no one is paying her directly. After the accident, I dropped out of the scouts. I had only really done it to please my dad. I spent a month in the hospital as they tried to piece my groin back together. That was when I first started to write.
---
Jamie sat looking out the window. He couldn't move his body because of the heavy plaster cast that immobilized him from the waist to the knee. One of the nurses came in and saw him.

"Cheer up, Jamie. I'm sure it isn't all that bad."

"I'm stuck in here, and they moved the last kid off the ward this morning. I'm alone in here."

"Well, why not write or draw about your life?" She produced a pad of paper and a pencil.

"Ok," Jamie said, not sure if this was something he wanted to do. He started to write. Not about himself, but about a kid named Jodi. Jodi's life was nothing like Jamie's. Jodi had really been given the dress on his fifth birthday. Jodi had gone to parties, and had lots of friends. He was popular at school. Jodi never landed in the hospital. Jodi never had to sit around for days with nothing to do.

Jamie wrote for hours and cried as he thought about what his life could have been, if only he'd been Jodi instead.

Jamie stopped crying as he began to think. Maybe he couldn't be Jodi, but he could at least write about him. Jamie made it a bit of a Science Fiction story. Jodi was born in 1995 just like Jamie was, but there was something called The Web that connected peoples TVs together. They carried around personal phones and sent "text messages" to each other. They had typewriters connected to the TVs so that they could type messages there as well.

It was about 6pm when the nurse returned. "So, what have you written for us?" She asked me as she came in.

Jamie turned the pages over. Suddenly he wasn't so sure about all of this. He liked his story about Jodi, but he was afraid that anyone who read it would know that it was about him.

"Look, Jamie, It's all right. My name is Mary Keller. I council kids who have been through tough situations. My husband was hired by your parents to help you, but he couldn't come today."

Jamie looked at the woman who he had thought was a nurse. She had seemed so nice, she just had to be a nurse. She reminded him of his mom.

"Ok, but I only want you to see it."

"I have to tell my husband, Frank, something about this, as he is your councilor."

"Can't you be my councilor?"

"Oh, Honey. You'll like my husband. He is really a nice man. So, let's take a look at what you've written."

Jamie reluctantly handed over the pad of paper. He watched as Mary read his story. He knew that she would know, that he wished his life were like Jodi's. He just hoped that it would be alright.

"Well, Jamie, you certainly have a good imagination. Some of these devices you describe almost sound magical."

"Yeah, Jodi really gets to have a lot of fun."

"Don't you get to have a lot of fun?"

"Jodi is popular and has a lot of friends. My only friend is Brian. Sure, we play a lot together, but Brian has other friends that don't like me very much."

"Why don't they like you, Jamie?"

"They think I'm a wimp. They want me to go play sports and camping and all of that. I tried that. Look what happened to me!" Jamie had tears in his eyes as he gestured down at his cast.

"Tell me about Jodi's friends. Aren't they all girls?"

"Yes, but they don't call Jodi a wimp. They like him for who he is. They had tea parties, and dress-up parties. They know Jodi is really a boy, but they don't mind. He even has a pink personal phone. They all have identical phones, and sometimes they get them mixed up, but that's ok because they are all best friends."

"You know Jodi will never be real, right?"

"Jodi isn't real. It's just Jamie. His name is Jamie too."

"His name?"

"The little boy I sometimes remember. I remember getting the dress for my fifth birthday, and going to Susan's party in it. I remember the China doll that I got that Christmas, along with a cloth doll. I liked the China doll better because she had brown hair just like mine, even if mom told me I couldn't play with her. She was a doll for looking at, not for playing with."

"Do you have other memories like this?" Mary asked. She had a weird look on her face.

"I have lots of memories like this. Most of them are in the Jodi story. I know they can't be real because there isn't really a Web connecting TVs and there aren't phones you can take anywhere. I used to get confused, though. I thought my mom stole that dress. It really stuck with me. I wondered how she could be so cruel. I later realized that it wasn't a real memory. I started calling them false memories. Sometimes it feels like I am living two lives. One in the real world, and one with False Jamie."

Mary seemed to come to a decision. "Ok, Jamie. We'll keep the stories just between us. I would like you to keep writing them for me. Even if they aren't real, they let me see a bit of you that you aren't comfortable showing any other way. Can you do that for me?"

Jamie smiled. "Sure. I really like you, Mary. You're neat."
---
I didn't stop writing about Jodi. Mary was a bit surprised last year when Jodi went on a date with my best friend Brian. I told her that False Jamie's life had started becoming more and more different from mine. When we were both eight, there wasn't much of a difference. He had friends. I had Brian. As both of us grew older, our early divergence lead to a greater and greater difference in our lives. I think that is when Mary realized I wasn't making False Jamie up.

I didn't realize til recently.

Jodi wasn't my only character that I wrote about. I mostly wrote fairy tales. Princesses being saved by handsome princes. Princes being saved by beautiful princesses (I was an equal opportunity author). Sometimes, they saved each other.

Last week, my Dad read my journal.

Mary had asked me to keep a journal of my thoughts and feelings. She didn't ever need to see it. I just needed to write to sort everything out in my head. She did this the day after my ninth birthday. Everyone was calling me Jim at this point, but I decided I would still sign my journal Jamie, to keep me closer to the False Memories that I really wanted to be true.

I walked into my room to see my dad on the light blue bedspread that had replaced my transformers years ago.

"Dad?"

"What in the heck is THIS," my dad bellowed at me as he looked up from his reading.

"That is private Dad!"

"Is this your diary, you little girl?"

"It's my Journal, Dad."

"My little pansy boy, writing about his feelings, in his little diary!"

"Dad, give me my Journal. You had no right." I was starting to cry.

"No right? I'm your father, damn it. You will respect me."

"Respect you? You don't know the meaning of respect. Mary respects me as a person. You see me as someone who can live out your lost fantasies."

My father hit me. "How DARE you, you little pussy." He threw my journal at me, and it opened up my cheek under my eye. I picked up my Journal and walked out of my house. Blood dripped onto my shoulder. I had stopped crying before I left the house. That man would never make me cry again.

I walked up to the woods behind our house. Suddenly I could see both the forest around me, and one that was just slightly different. In one of them, I was crying. I could feel my skirt swish around my legs as I hugged myself. The Trees were in all the wrong places. My view passed through the tree in front of me. I closed my eyes and could still see.

The hill looked the same. I tried to keep as close to the other perspective as I could. Brian jumped out from behind a tree. He looked angry.

"There you are, you little fag. Did you actually think you could run away from me after telling me your little secret?"

"What are you talking about." I said before realizing that this was the False Brian that False Jamie had been on a date with.

"I never meant to hurt you, Brian. I really want to be your girlfriend."

"How can you be my girlfriend when you're not even a girl! We can fix that here and now." There was a large kitchen knife in Brian's hand. He stabbed False Jamie in the groin. I could feel her die. I felt what she felt, but I had the clarity of mind she didn't. I knew that my best friend had just killed another person. He had just killed me.

I don't know what happened next, or even how it happened. One moment I was in my world (or Earth₁ as I think of it) and the next I was in her world (Earth₂).

The air smelled subtly different. It was a little dirtier. It clung to my throat a bit. It was also quite a bit colder. No wonder False Jamie had been hugging herself for warmth. Oh no, False Jamie. I turned to where I knew her body would be. Brian was still standing over her with the knife.

My dad, upon learning I would no longer be attending scouts enrolled me in a karate class. It was a small school run by someone called Billy B. No one I knew back in Earth₁ had ever heard of him, and every one in Earth₂ is crazy enough to think he only does aerobics. It was a mixture of Judo, wrestling, and kick boxing that he taught us. I have a black belt that he personally awarded me.

I stepped behind Brian and twisted his right arm out and away from his body, the whole time putting pressure on the nerve point in his wrist. I slipped my left arm around his throat and after he dropped the knife I kicked his legs out from under him so I could get a better grip on his throat. After a slow 30 count, I dropped his now unconscious body to the ground. I checked his pulse and breathing and then hog tied him using Jamie's belt. I searched through Jamie's purse for her personal phone and dialed 101. When a voice came on telling me that there was no such number, I remembered that 911 was the emergency number here, and they used something silly like S.O.S. for the international emergency code. How silly is that.

I dialed 911 and told the woman who answered the phone what had happened.

I sat down to wait for the police. I heard my dad calling for me. Wait, he was calling for Jamie. And she was dead. That is when I heard the first police sirens.