by Justme

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Chapter 7: A burden shared is a burden halved

"Well, I know what we can do about that problem. Livy and I will just call and explain to Maria that you're not really a cheerleader, we were just teasing you, and apologize for making her think you were." Livy's looking like speak for yourself, Mom, but Mom's looking back like he had your help getting into this mess, he's going to have your help getting out of it. Mom's face can be downright eloquent sometimes.

"Thanks." That's a relief. And I don't even have to do anything. "So, but, what about the other problem?" I'm kinda feeling cornered lying in my bed with all these people in here so I get up and sit on the edge of it.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Livy has the answer? "You'll just have to go to school as a girl from now on." Ah. I should have known. I don't hear the scorn in her voice I would have expected, though--it sounds almost playful, like a dare. Maybe the drugs haven't worn off yet after all.

"That's one option." Say what, Dad? And he said it with a straight face.

"Not really." As much as I'd like to. I try not to sound disappointed, but I'm not sure I succeed.

"Yeah, it'd never work." Huh. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Felicia. "Like, people would probably notice something different about him, you know, in the locker room and the showers?" Oh, right, we had this conversation before.

"There are ways to avoid that. Valid reasons to be excused from taking Phys. Ed." Dad's just playing Devil's Advocate. Or teasing me. I think.

"That's right; in fact you had enough P.E. credits from your old junior high to fulfill your requirements so I didn't even have to sign you up for any this year." What, Mom's in on it too? I don't know whether to be getting my hopes up, or just really, really scared. What's going on here? Are they just teasing me? Or is this some kind of trap? I look back and forth between their faces, trying to read their expressions, but they're both totally deadpan. My heart is pounding in my chest and it's so loud they must be able to hear it.

Whenever the digital alarm clock on my dresser gets to the next hour and the numbers all flip at once it makes a kind of loud "thwap" noise which I'm so used to I don't notice it anymore, but everyone else jumps and looks at it, which makes me jump about out of my skin. Luckily no one's looking at me. Ten o'clock.

Felicia looks, appropriately enough, alarmed. "Uh-oh. I was supposed to call Mom to come pick me up by now, 'cause she didn't want me riding my bike home after dark. Can I use your phone?"

"Sure, it's in the kitchen. C'mon, I'll show you." Livy leads her out.

As they're leaving I watch Mom and Dad and decide they must have been teasing. Mom does tend to get kind of a weird sense of humor after a glass or two of wine. And I mean, why would they try to trap me into admitting something like that anyway? I was just being paranoid.

So why do I feel more disappointed than relieved?

When Livy and Felicia are out of earshot I ask, "So, what's another option? To do about school, and Maria, and everything?" 'Cause I can't really think of anything else offhand, other than having her killed or faking my own death, neither of which seems really realistic or desirable. Although if I was supposed to be dead they couldn't very well send me to school, so that wouldn't be so bad. But somehow I don't think they'd go for that so I don't suggest it.

"Well, I know it sounds absurd but we could always tell the truth and face the music." OK, Dad, there's integrity and then there's insanity. "All kidding aside, it's really the only choice we have."

"But wouldn't Mr. Weiss be pretty pissed about, you know, being made a fool of and all? And, I mean, with everything that went on here tonight it would be kind of hard to convince him that wasn't what we were trying to do, you know?"

"You never know for sure what someone's reaction will be until you see it, but that does seem like a strong possibility."

"So, wouldn't you have to, like, look for another job? I mean, even if he didn't fire you, wouldn't it suck to have to work for him after that?"

"I don't want that to be your concern. I have to live with the consequences of my choices, but I won't let them affect you if I can help it."

"So that's the only option? 'Fess up and go to school with everyone knowing all about this?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything else. I don't have anything to blackmail the Weisses with to keep them quiet." Mom looks like she's about to say something about this but apparently decides he's kidding.

I can't let this happen--there must be another choice. "Could I maybe go to a different school?"

"They don't allow you to switch schools within the district. We looked into that. And the other schools don't measure up anyway--it's why we bought our house in this neighborhood even though we could've afforded something bigger across town."

"A private school, then?"

"I wish we could afford that for you and Livy, but I'm sorry, no."

"Why can't I just stay home and read books and have you and Mom teach me? That's how I learn everything anyway."

"The laws in this state are pretty strict about school attendance until you're sixteen."

"Then maybe we could just tell everyone I'm your nephew or something, and that's why I look so much like Lee, and I dunno, maybe I came to live here 'cause my parents died in a car crash, and Lee had to go away 'cause, um, 'cause her fainting spell was caused by a brain tumor, and..."

Dad's laughing.

"All right, all right." I just can't go to school with everyone knowing, though. I don't think Dad understands my life would be in danger. "Are you sure I couldn't just go as a girl?"

"I know you're worried about what people will think, but it's not a good idea to try to fool people like that over the long run. Look how much trouble it's gotten us into in just one evening."

"But, I mean, if this gets out...."

"Well, if you think it's something to be ashamed of you shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I don't think you feel that way. And if it's not something to be ashamed of, you can hold your head high and just let the slings and arrows bounce off you."

Yeah, easy for you to say--I don't think the 'slings and arrows' will be metaphorical in this case. "I'm not ashamed, Dad; I just don't think people will understand." I don't like where this is going at all.

"Probably not, but it isn't like you to put so much stock in what other people think of you. You've always stood your ground and insisted people accept you for who you are, or go screw themselves. I'm sure you can do that now."

I feel like I'm being crushed between Dad's expectations on one side and cold reality on the other. And I can't even talk to him about how I'll get the crap beat outta me 'cause he'll just tell me to stand up to the bullies or they'll never respect me, and offer to teach me how to defend myself, and I've tried all that crap before and it never works and I'm hopeless at fighting; the best his self-defense lessons have ever done is bought me enough time for a teacher to show up so I get in trouble for fighting on top of getting beat up. The more I think about it the more I just want to scream, to run away, far away, or just die right here and now...

...and suddenly I see what I need to do. Insist people accept you for who you are. Thinking about actually doing it is terrifying though, and it can't be undone. But I don't see any other way. It's this, or be crushed.

Maybe I can pluck up my courage by getting mad, like I did earlier in the car. Only I'm not sure what to be mad about 'cause I'm not being forced to hide who I am anymore; in fact I'm being forced into revealing it when I wasn't planning to--like, ever. I guess I can be mad about that. And maybe about Dad not getting it on the whole getting beat up thing, as long as I don't think too much about the actual getting beat up part which just makes me more scared. And I'm thinking about it too much and I need to just do this before I lose what little nerve I have.

"OK, Dad, have it your way. You want me to stand my ground, insist on people accepting me for who I am, OK. Fine! Then I'm going to school as a girl. That's who I am. This," indicating how I'm dressed, "is who I am." Only somehow, it still comes out sounding more scared than angry. I think the word is petulant.

They look confused. Stunned actually. Like they're trying to find a way to convince themselves I'm joking, 'cause I can't possibly be serious. I feel a little wobbly and sick to my stomach again but I just glare at them, daring them to challenge me.

Mom speaks up first. "Oh, Joey. You're gay?"

"NO!" Why does everybody think that? I know she's trying to be sympathetic and understanding, but she's just not getting it. "I'M ... NOT ... GAY. I'm a GIRL. G-I-R-L. I don't care what my body looks like, it's wrong. I'm a girl. I've always been a girl. Don't ask me what I mean. I just know, OK? I've always known." This time I really do sound angry. Mom looks a little scared. Dad--his face is a mask. I can't read him at all. "And I'm tired of pretending to be a boy. I won't do it anymore. I won't."

"I always knew you were a little freak." Huh? I must have missed the part where Livy and Felicia come back. I'm too wrung out right now to be hurt by her little barbs, but I think I actually hear sympathy in her voice, not contempt.

Felicia is looking at me with tears streaming down her cheeks, but there's a trace of a smile on her lips. What's that all about? She sees me looking at her, marches over and locks me in a hug, burying my face in her shoulder. Knowing at least someone in this room understands kind of drains all the fight out of me, and I can't help it; I just go limp in her arms and start shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

And I feel another set of arms around me, and a voice in my ear is saying, "Shh, it's OK, it's gonna be OK, we're here and it's gonna be OK," and it's Livy, and the shock is almost enough to make me stop crying, but I only pause for a second and then go back to sobbing. And a pair of hands gently turn my face away from Felicia's shoulder, which is now glistening with my snot and drool and damp with my tears, and it's Mom, and she kisses me on the forehead and looks reassuringly in my eyes, and I still don't know if she really gets it but at least she's going to be supportive. And Dad, I still can't read the expression on his face, I have no idea what he's thinking, but he sees me looking at him and his expression gets sort of warm and comforting and he holds out his arms, and I pull away from the knot of people surrounding me and wrap my arms around him and bury myself in him and I'm still crying and I don't know what's going to happen when this is all over but I know it's going to be all right. "I love you, Dad." Funny, I can't remember the last time I said that.

"I love you too, so-" He stops himself, tenses for a second, then relaxes and starts over. "I love you too, punkin." I can hear his smile at the private joke. I smile too.

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I'm lying here in the dark, but not totally dark 'cause the neighbors left their porch light on and it's shining through a gap between my curtains, and Felicia went home like an hour ago and everyone else went to bed and part of me feels like that's good 'cause I'm just so tired and part of me feels really alone and like, how can they sleep now? 'Cause I know I can't.

So I'm just lying here, staring at the slash of light on the wall from the neighbor's porch light, thinking of all the problems I'm gonna have now that everyone knows, like once the shock and the drugs wear off is Livy going to make my life even more miserable than she tried to before 'cause she sees me as competition or something, and how am I gonna be able to hide the fact that I have a boy body all day, every day, for the rest of my life, especially when it starts to really change which from what they've been telling us in health class the last couple of years could happen any day now, and how am I gonna face Grandmother and Grandfather Sorensen and all the cousins at Christmas, especially Lori--no, she might be OK with it, and Lisa won't care. It's Ken I should worry about. He'll probably feel like I'm a traitor or something; we were always outnumbered by the girls already whenever our families got together. And oh god I don't even want to think about what Dad's side of the family will do to me. Uncle Vic might be able to accept it but the rest of them will no doubt disown me, even Grandma Frances, bless her bigoted Irish heart. And that's the adults; hell, some of those kids have beaten the crap out of me before just because they could. Maybe we could just tell them I died or something--but I know Dad will never go for that.

Only apparently just 'cause everyone went to bed doesn't mean they went to sleep, 'cause I hear faint voices coming through the wall, so I stick my ear against it and it's kind of muffled 'cause Mom and Dad are trying to be quiet but I can still make out what they're saying, mostly.

"...confused, and if I'd realized I wouldn't have encouraged him like that." She's not saying her. I guess I didn't get through after all.

"I don't know. I think that just brought it out in the open. It sounds like it's been bothering him for a long time, and maybe it's best that we found out about it now. Maybe we can help him somehow." Et tu, Dad? Well, I guess I should expect this to be kind of hard for people to accept, especially my parents. And, I mean, I have spent a lot more time talking with Felicia about it than with them. But I shudder to think what their idea of help will be in this situation.

"Do you think maybe a therapist would be able to help?" Dad's not likely to go for this, at least. He works at an ad agency; I'm not quite clear on what exactly he does there but advertising is all about convincing people to buy stuff they don't really need, and then to feel good about having been suckered into it so they'll do it again. Anyway he's of the opinion therapists just use the same bag of tricks to convince you you're happier than you were before you started supporting their extravagant lifestyle.

"I don't know. Maybe." What? No, you are not going to convince me I'd be happier as a boy. I've been trying to convince myself for years. Besides, you've taught me too well; I'm on to all those tricks and they don't work on me.

I'm not going to let this discussion go any further without me. It's my fucking life they're talking about here.

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Knock, knock, knock. I'm kinda steamed about them plotting behind my back and I'm not worrying too much about waking Livy up right now so I'm kinda pounding on their door.

"Come in?" Mom sounds like I've caught her doing something naughty. Like she did that time I heard muffled voices and giggling just before knocking on their door. I try not to think too hard about what that was all about but I'm glad she at least has the decency to feel guilty about what they're doing now.

I shove the door open, stomp in and close it behind me. Arms crossed, I give them my best look of righteous indignation. "A, I can hear you guys, and 2," I figure an oblique Archie Bunker reference might serve both to lighten the mood a bit and shame them, if they get it, "I'm not confused. Well maybe just that I know I'm a girl and my body disagrees; I admit that's kind of confusing. But I know what I am and that's a girl and I don't need some fucking headshrinker trying to convince me I'm better off being a boy 'cause I've tried telling myself that for thirteen fucking years now and it's not working. This is not something that just occurred to me. I've been a girl my whole fucking life but you all were so convinced I was a boy and I just didn't know how to tell you so you'd understand. Clearly I still didn't do it right 'cause you still don't get it, do you?"

"No, sweetie, I guess we don't." I noticed Mom wincing every time I dropped 'fucking' into my little tirade but she sounds at least apologetic, if not understanding, so now I kind of feel bad about doing that.

Dad looks tired, and kind of--old. I mean yeah, he's my dad, of course he's old--but I never saw him look so worn down before. It kind of scares me.

He speaks slowly and deliberately. "You've had years to work this all out, but it's new for us. You'll have to forgive us if we're a little slow on the uptake. I know I for one will be more on the ball after a good night's sleep, and"--he looks thoughtful for a moment--"I think I can promise to sit down with you after dinner tomorrow better prepared to hear and understand what you have to say." Great, I get to spend an entire day worrying about how to do this. "In the meantime, we'll respect what you're telling us and treat you accordingly." He gives Mom a pointed look; she looks resigned, then nods first to him and then to me.

"All right. Thank you." I guess that's all I really wanted. I turn to go. "G'night."

"Good night, sweetie. No matter what, we love you."

"I know, Mom. Me too." I guess I usually take that shit for granted, like it's just a recorded message they play back that doesn't really mean anything, but it's kind of reassuring to hear it this time.

"Sleep tight, punkin. We'll talk tomorrow, I promise." Cut it out, Dad, you're gonna make me cry.

"'Kay. 'Night."

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Tap, tap. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary--OK, I should have been asleep a long time ago, I realize. Before I can say "What?" the door quietly opens and Livy sticks her head in.

"Can I come in?" She's whispering.

I shrug, and wave her in. She sits on the bed next to me and starts stroking my hair. This is kind of freaking me out; she's never done this before. Pull my hair, sure. Stroke, never.

"Poor little freak." She says it with affection though. "I heard what you were saying to Mom and Dad just now. They can be so dense sometimes."

I stare at her. "You... understand?"

She nods. "I dunno, but it just makes sense to me somehow, what you were saying about knowing. I mean, I know I'm a girl, and if I woke up one morning with a boy body and even if everyone acted like I'd always been like that I'd still know. I mean, you don't need to peek down the front of your pants to know what you are, you know? And if you did and it wasn't what you were expecting to find, it wouldn't mean you were wrong. You know? You just know."

I'm glad it makes sense to her 'cause I'm not sure I followed that at all. But right now I'm just grateful someone in this family doesn't think I need a padded room. Even if it is Livy. "Yeah. Thanks." I sit up and give her a big hug and a few tears of relief.

"You know, I always kind of wished I had a little sister. Turns out I had one, in disguise." She looks me in the eyes and smiles. "We'll just have to figure out a way to straighten Mom and Dad out tomorrow. Well, sweet dreams, Sis. Welcome to the life you were s'posed to have. Anything I can do to help you make up for lost time, let me know." She hugs me back and gives me a kiss on top of my head before going back to bed.

And of all the weird, surreal shit that's happened today, I think that takes the cake.

###

Chapter 8: A joy shared is a joy doubled

I don't usually wake up at the crack of dawn, at least not in the summer, but I'm kind of nervous and a little excited about today. For the first time I don't have to pretend to be a boy around my family. I can just be me. I already had my shower, and went ahead and shaved off the dark fuzz that was starting to grow under my arms, 'cause as a girl that's what I'm supposed to do and no one will give me crap about it. Hopefully Mom won't give me too much crap about using her razor. Or maybe it was Livy's--well, maybe whoever it belongs to won't even notice. Nothing much else about me is hairy, at least not that wouldn't be hairy on a girl anyway so it was just the pits but I guess I'll be needing my own razor--gee, won't Dad be proud. Also I 'borrowed' some of Livy's shampoo 'cause I've always liked the way it smells, and no one's gonna give a girl crap about smelling like flowers.

Trouble is, now I don't know what to wear. I don't usually bother much about that but today it seems like it's going to matter and I'm having trouble figuring it out. I mean, I want to look obviously female, as a constant reminder to Mom and Dad that I'm their daughter, not their son, 'cause I figure they'll need that at least for a while; old habits are hard to break. But I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard, you know? 'Cause that'd just look like I was desperate to convince everybody and not sure of myself, which I am. Sure, I mean--not desperate. So I think skirts and dresses are out, at least for today.

Also, I'm kinda stuck with boy stuff as far as socks and underpants go. Nobody else is even up yet, so maybe I can sneak off to the mall on my bike and be back before anyone even knows I've gone. Damn, no, that won't work--the mall won't be open yet and Mom and Dad will be up long before it is.

Wait, what am I thinking? I don't have to sneak around! I'll just get Mom to take me to the mall once Dad's off to work. I guess I'll offer to pay with my own money if she balks at the expense or tries to claim it's unnecessary. Not that she doesn't love me, but did I mention she's a freakin' tightwad?

So, what'll I wear to the mall? Maybe I should just start trying stuff on and see what grabs me. Damn. I need a full-length mirror in here like Linda has. I wonder how much they are. I doubt I could talk Mom into springing for that.

All right, I'm over-thinking this--the jeans from yesterday are still clean enough; I guess I can just find a different top I like and go with that.

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I guess I got lucky that first time at Linda's; in these jeans it's kind of tricky to get things arranged so nothing shows or looks funny. Once done, though, the result is definitely "obviously female." And the white rib-knit top is tight enough to emphasize my little fake boobs, adding to the overall effect. It's not quite a crop-top but if I raise my arms just a little it shows my bellybutton. And something about it--I don't know, the little sleeves or the shape of the neck opening or the way it fits or something--just says 'girl.'

How did Linda put it? Clothes that show off your assets and hide your flaws. Well, I don't know what assets I'm showing off but I'm definitely hiding my two main flaws--what's missing up top and what shouldn't be there down below.

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Hm, that's something I didn't notice missing from my wardrobe before--shoes. I mean, my new white sneakers work fine with these jeans and stuff, but someday I'm gonna want to try wearing one of those dresses and I can tell you right now these sneakers are not going to cut it. I don't really know what I need in that department though, 'cause I haven't really spent a whole hell of a lot of time checking out girls' shoes, if you know what I mean. No point in asking Livy 'cause like I told Linda, she almost never wears dresses. Mom does once in a while when we go out but I don't want to dress like a mom. Well, hopefully Linda will be willing to help me out there--though she'll probably want to take me shoe shopping, which is even worse than regular clothes shopping 'cause some lame loser who couldn't get a better job than shoe salesman has to help you try on every pair.

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Looking in the bathroom mirror there's something that seems to be off, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Like, this outfit just needs something but I have no idea what. It's not that it's wrong or anything, just--I dunno, not quite finished somehow.

I just know this is gonna bug me until I figure it out.

All right, I feel really lame for caring so much about clothes and how I look all of a sudden, but how you dress and look really does affect how people see you--yeah, even people like me who like to think they're not influenced by such superficial bullshit. And like I said, today of all days that's going to matter. I want to get it right.

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"'Morning, Sis." I finish rinsing out my cereal bowl and turn to look; it's Livy, in flannel jammies and hair that looks slept in. I can't help grinning. She called me Sis. I know, she did last night, but I wasn't at all sure she'd still feel the same way this morning.

"'Morning!"

"My, aren't we perky today. Couldn't wait to get started in your new life, huh? You look good. Not my style but it suits you." I blush a little; I'm not used to getting compliments from Livy. "How long you been up, anyway?"

"I dunno, an hour? Maybe two. Since before sunrise anyway."

"Yeah, I can never sleep in when I'm excited about a big day either." She looks me over and sees my bare feet. "No socks in that big bag of clothes, huh?"

"No, just the cheerleader ones I wore last night." She winces at the mention of cheerleader, no doubt anticipating having to confess to Maria.

"So, what all was in there?"

"Oh, some of everything, I guess. Except socks and shoes. And underpants."

"Ewww, thank god; that would be gross." Her expression shifts from disgusted to something else I can't quite figure out. "Wait, so you're like wearing boys' underpants under those jeans?"

"Um--yeah? Like what choice do I have?"

"I guess, but"--she doesn't look happy with the idea--"just go to the mall and get some, like today, OK?"

"Yeah, I was gonna ask Mom to take me after Dad leaves for work."

"Good. I dunno, there's just something a little sick about a girl wearing boys' underwear."

"Oh." I'm getting all self-conscious now. "I just, I mean--I've been doing it so long...."

"Yeah, but that's different--you were a boy then. Or--no, you weren't. But you had to--uh. This is so confusing." She apparently sees my face fall 'cause she goes suddenly from exasperated to sympathetic. "How did you ever handle it all those years? I'd have gone nuts or killed myself or something. But you don't have to pretend anymore now, so go get yourself some panties and stop wearing those stupid things, OK? Just get rid of 'em all. The sooner, the better. I wouldn't want it getting around that my sister wears boys' underwear, you know?"

"OK." I still don't get why she's so hung up about the Jockeys, but at least I know there's no question in her mind about what I really am.

I gotta admit though, I wasn't expecting this kind of acceptance from her, of all people. I almost hate to take a chance of spoiling a good thing, but I gotta ask.

"Livy?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, you do realize I'm the same person I was yesterday, right?"

She gives me a funny look for a second, then laughs. "Yeah, of course. It's just, I guess there was something I didn't know about you yesterday, you know? Something kind of major?"

"Yeah, but...."

"What?"

"I dunno, I mean, does it really make that big a difference?"

She frowns and ponders for a minute. "Yeah. I'm sorry, but yeah. It's like, there was a bunch of stuff about you that just always bugged me for some reason, and... knowing what you really are puts it in a whole new light, I guess." She looks a little upset with herself. "Does that make me a bad person? Like, narrow-minded or something?"

"Hey, don't worry about it too much, OK? It's not like I haven't gone out of my way to bug you. I kind of felt it was my duty as your little brother."

She gives me a sour look. "Yeah, well, you don't have that excuse anymore."

"No, now I'm your little sister, which opens up whole new opportunities for ways to get on your nerves." I put an evil grin on my face and rub my hands together.

She grins back. "Take it easy, all right? You just got me liking you. Don't blow it your first day."

"Awwww, you're no fun." I do a fake pout and act all disappointed. Don't ask why this pops into my head now, but--"Hey, I never got an answer last night. What is Midol, anyway?"

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"'Morning, Mom!" For once it's nice to be bright and chipper when she's the one who's not fully awake yet.

"'Morning, Jo- ...ey." She was already looking at me but it's like now she sees me. She stands there for a minute looking all put out or something. "Is it OK if I still call you Joey?"

"Sure." What the he-ck, Linda already thinks that's my name. Sort of. What, now I'm cleaning up my own thoughts?

"Good, then I won't have to think too hard about it." Jeez, thanks for being so sensitive about it, Mom. Well, I guess it is kind of early in the morning to be dealing with something like that. I suppose I can cut her some slack.

I figure it couldn't hurt to give her her morning 'fix.' "Here, I made coffee." I pour a cup from the percolator. "Real coffee, not instant." I've never made it before, but I've watched Dad do it. It's not rocket science.

"You made coffee?" Now she looks sure I've lost my mind.

Well, I was bored. And nervous. And, you know, wanted to make a good impression. I'm not sure why; it's not like I'm exactly new to this family, but I guess in a way I kind of am. I just nod and hand her the cup.

"Thanks." She sounds dubious. She stirs in a spoonful of sugar and takes a sip, then tries really hard not to make a face and puts in another spoonful. She gets the milk out of the fridge, pours some in her coffee to water it down I guess, and asks casually, "So how long did you let it perk?"

As she's taking a sip I tell her, "Um, I dunno, twenty minutes? Isn't that long enough?"

She makes a face as she swallows. "Is twenty minutes long enough, she says. I should think so. Thanks for the thought sweetie, but next time you make it take it off the heat a minute or two after it starts perking." All at once I'm crestfallen that my coffee sucks and elated that Mom referred to me as she. "You could use this stuff to unclog drains." Yeah, yeah, very funny. She said she!

Anyway, it can't be that bad--she's still drinking it.

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I always like to read the morning paper back-to-front, 'cause that way if I get interrupted I've already read all the best parts. The funnies are on the back two pages. My favorite is Doonesbury. When there's stuff like that available I don't know why they bother printing crap like Marmaduke and Family Circus and Nancy--I mean, if there are people out there who actually think those are funny, we need to get like Jerry Lewis or someone to hold a telethon to find a cure 'cause that's just sad.

I guess I was absorbed in it or something 'cause I didn't notice Dad sit down at the kitchen table across from me. Luckily he hasn't figured out the right way to read the paper yet and likes to start from the front page, which is in a whole separate section so we never have to fight over it. Anyway the first I'm aware of his presence is when Mom puts his ham-and-eggs and a cup of coffee in front of him and says "Here you go," with a sly wink to me. I guess I'm supposed to be in on the joke when he gags on my horrible coffee, but I don't think it's the least bit funny so I give Mom a sour thanks a lot look from behind the comics section which she responds to with oh, come on, it's funny and I reply with no, it's not just as Dad takes a sip--and shocks us both with "Mmm, just the way I like it--nice and strong. Thanks, honey."

Mom's aghast, but manages "Don't thank me, thank your daughter," gesturing in my direction.

Dad lowers the paper and says, sounding rather impressed, "Livy made this?"

"No, your other daughter." Well, I guess I've got Mom in the habit.

"My other daughter--?" I peek over my half of the paper, feeling a little awkward and a little hurt that he's forgotten already, but he sees me, catches on and barely missing a beat continues, "--can make me coffee any time. Thanks, punkin." Yeah, he's pretty smooth; no wonder he does so well with the ladies. I smile at him; Mom just rolls her eyes at both of us.

----------

"Hi, Linda?" I hope she goes for this--it might make things a little easier on Maria when Livy and Mom confess. Which might make things a little easier on Livy and Mom, not that they deserve it after pulling that on me.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, it's me, Joey."

"Oh, hi." Pause. "Um, did you say Jo-ey?"

"Um, yeah." I can almost hear her cringing on the other end of the line.

"So, I've been saying it wrong this whole time? I feel like an idiot."

"Don't sweat it. It's no big deal."

"Sorry. You should've said something."

"If it mattered, I would have." Still, her feeling a little guilty right now can't hurt. "So, I have a favor to ask you, as if you hadn't done enough for me already."

"OK, what is it?"

"You're a cheerleader, right?"

"Yeah, at Addams." Huh. So, Franklin must be the junior high she went to. I guess that makes sense if that stuff fits me now.

"Well, there's this girl I know, Maria; she's starting seventh grade at my new school this year and she desperately wants to make the cheerleading squad. And, well, yesterday she saw me wearing your old Franklin warm-up suit and before I could explain, Mom and Livy--that's my sister--they were making out like I really was a cheerleader and now she wants me to coach her for the tryouts."

"Oh." Hey, stop giggling; it's not that funny.

"So, um, I got them to agree to confess to Maria that they were playing a joke on me, and her, but I just know she's gonna be crushed when she finds out. So I was wondering if I could somehow talk you into doing it--coaching her, I mean."

"Sure, I'd love to. But I want you to do me a favor in return."

Fair enough. "Sure, what?"

"I want to coach you, too. I want you to try out for the squad."

"What?" No way. I can't even do a frikkin' cartwheel, fer cryin' out loud.

"Come on, it'll be good for you. You might even like it." She keeps saying stuff like that. The worst part is, she's been right so far.

Well, I don't want to let poor little Maria down. She'll probably see how hopeless I am and give up on me pretty quick anyway. "Oh, all right. I'll do it."

"That's the old school spirit!"

I hate school spirit.

----------

"That was a very thoughtful thing to do, sweetie." How can Mom sound proud of me and worried about my sanity at the same time? "Are you sure you don't still want us to call and tell her?"

"No, I think it'll be better if I do it myself. Um, Linda asked me a favor in return."

"Oh? What?" Now the worry comes to the forefront.

"She wants to coach me too. She wants me to try out for cheerleading. Apparently I'm like, her pet project now and this is part of her evil plot to indoctrinate me into the traditional subservient female role."

Mom goes a little cross-eyed at this, which is something she does sometimes when she's trying too hard not to laugh out loud. "I see. And you're going to go along with it?"

"Well, for Maria's sake, you know? I figure there's not much danger of me actually making the team."

"Squad, dear."

"Uh, right, squad. What, were you a cheerleader?"

"Me? Heavens, no. Your Aunt Kathy was for a year, though. God, she was insufferable." She says the last part under her breath, like I won't hear or something.

----------

"Hi, Maria?" I'm kind of wishing I'd let Mom and Livy handle this after all.

"Hi, Lee! How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, thanks. Um, how'd you like to get together with me tomorrow for some cheerleader practice?"

"Yes! I'd love to!" Yikes. That's OK, I've always got the other eardrum....

"Only, I won't be the one running it. We'll go over to my friend Linda's house and do it there."

"OK. Is she a cheerleader too?"

"She is, but, um, actually I'm not. She just gave me her old warmup suit 'cause it didn't fit her anymore."

"Oh. But your sister said--"

"She was playing a mean joke on me, and for some reason Mom went along with it. I'm really sorry about that. I have such a weird family."

"Oh, that's OK. It was really cool of you to set up a practice with your friend." See, it's all about how you present it. "So, you're gonna try out too? You'll be in eighth grade, right?" I suspect she wants reassurance that I won't be competing directly against her.

"Ninth, but they'll never pick me anyway 'cause I'm totally uncoordinated."

"Well, you'll sure never get picked with that attitude." Now she sounds enthusiastic. And kinda like Mom. "If you're going to try at all, you should at least give it your best shot." Yeah, definitely like Mom.

"I guess so. It's just, with tryouts starting in two weeks, it would kind of take a miracle." Like, for starters, I'd miraculously have to actually want to be a cheerleader.

"You'll see, we'll work hard from now until the tryouts and we'll both get picked. I can hardly wait until tomorrow!" Well, I'm glad someone's looking forward to it, anyway.

----------

"I'll need a ride over to Linda's tomorrow morning at ten. And we'll be picking up Maria on the way."

"What do I look like, a taxi driver?"

"Mo-om! Whose fault is it I have to do this, anyway? And I didn't make you confess to Maria yourself, so you owe me."

"All right, all right." Guilt--it works every time.

"And I need to go to the mall for socks and underwear and stuff."

"I repeat, do I look like a taxi driver? Take your bike."

"I would, but one of the things I need to get I won't be able to carry on my bike."

"What do you need to get?"

"A mirror for my closet door." I realize as I'm saying this it sounds kind of vain. "Well, you're always on my case about looking like a slob. How'm I s'posed to know what I look like without a mirror?"

Mom looked strangely disturbed for a second there; now she looks sort of skeptical, but at the same time relieved. What's that all about? "All right; you do need new underwear--you're supposed to throw them away when they get holes in them or the elastic wears out. I suppose I could take you now if you're ready to go." She sounds exasperated, but when doesn't she?

----------

I'm finding the prospect of shopping in the girls' underwear department at J.C. Penney a bit daunting. I am a girl as far as anyone here knows, but still--"I mean, I don't even know what size I need, or what kinds are comfortable, or what. I don't want to go in there and look like I've never worn them before and don't know what I'm doing." I'm speaking kind of under my breath so no one else hears. Particularly not Mom; I figure the less reminders she has of how I used to be the sooner she'll get used to how I am.

"Yeah, sure, I'll do it. You want me to just pick up a bunch of socks for you too, while I'm at it?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, Liv." She likes it when I call her that. "While you're doing that I'll go get a mirror." I head for the home furnishings department, still slightly stunned that Mom actually gave me money for this and hoping it will be enough.

As I'm going she calls after me, kinda loudly, "You're OK for bras, right?"

I'm feeling totally embarrassed as I call back, "Yeah, I think so." Mom looks highly amused, or maybe the word is bemused.

----------

I notice I'm looking at the store displays a little differently. I mean, instead of looking at mannequins and thinking she'd be a total fox if she were real and stuff like that that sounds really lame and stupid now that I think about it, I find myself looking at the clothes and wondering how I'd look in them, and more importantly, how I'd feel about looking like that, and whether or not that's how I'd want people to see me, you know? 'Cause those are clothes I could wear now. I don't know why, but I never looked at displays of boys' clothes like that. I just kind of developed my "pay no attention to me" look and refined it over the years; I wasn't really interested in clothes beyond that.

Before I have a chance to think about it too much, I see a mannequin wearing an outfit kind of like what I've got on. Only the mannequin has this really cool white macramé belt that doesn't have a buckle, it kind of ties to one side and has these long tassels that hang down with big wooden beads on the ends. And a kind of matching bracelet. That's what's missing. I've got to see what that would look like on me!

----------

Damn. I've gotta have this belt, but the price. I brought my own money but I don't have enough, and if I use some of the money Mom gave me I don't think I'll have enough left for a mirror. Besides, she'll get mad if I don't bring her the change. Anyway it still wouldn't be enough for the bracelet too. Guess I'll just have to save up. Sigh. Back you go, belt--maybe next time.

----------

Did I really just do that?

----------

I do need to get myself a purse so I can give this one back to Linda. And this one's kinda cool--it looks like it's made out of an old pair of jeans, with a back pocket on the side. But once I buy it, I won't have anything left to put in it. Well, except for the lip gloss. I guess I don't have much choice though. Sigh. By the time I can save up enough for that belt, who knows if they'll even have it anymore. I had no idea being a girl was so expensive.

----------

Jeez, the mirrors here are way too expensive. Anyway I don't need anything fancy--just a plain mirror, no frame, no stand, no decorations; as long as it has a reflection I'm all set. I guess I'll go see if they have something cheaper at Meijer's Thrifty Acres next to the mall.

----------

The guy in Meijer's was being patronizing and annoying me, treating me like some kind of helpless invalid or something, I guess just 'cause I'm a girl. So I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of helping me out to the car with the mirror, even if I'd had the keys which I didn't. But now I'm kind of regretting it, 'cause it's not all that heavy but it is really awkward to carry and everyone seems intent on crashing into it.

"Hey, Lee. Want some help with that?"

"Huh? Oh. Hi." It's Rich. What, does he hang out here every day? Then again, I should talk. "It's OK, I've got it." Not very well, though; it slips a bit just as I say that.

"You sure?"

I swallow my pride. After all, he's not being patronizing, just courteous. "Um, no. I guess I could use a hand here; thanks."

He grabs it near the middle, by where I'm holding it. "OK, I got it; you can let go now."

He's pulling and I don't want it to break, so I let go, but--"I thought you'd get one end, and I'd get the other."

He hefts it up onto his shoulder. "Yeah, but I didn't think that was a good idea in this crowd." Well, he does seem to be having less trouble managing it than I was. He may not be much taller than me but I guess he's stronger. I feel like that should bother me, but for some reason it doesn't.

"Um, OK. Mom and Liv are waiting for me back at J.C. Penney. In the girls' underwear department." I say that last part just to see if I can make him blush. It works.

----------

He's not saying much. I mean, I'm not normally the type who needs to fill any silence with pointless chatter, but I thought he liked me. Not that I want him to, but, you know. "Um, so, is Maria here too?"

"Nah, I just came to hang out with my buddies at the arcade. I was on my way there."

"Oh, cool. I love pinball. Can I come too? After we put this in the car?" For some reason he looks alarmed. "What?"

"Um, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

"Trouble?" What's he going on about?

"With your old man. Shit, I can't believe how strict he is. And kind of scary, too. It must suck for you."

Ah, so Dad must have had a little 'talk' with Rich like I asked him to. "No, he's not so bad, really. Anyway I figure what he doesn't know won't hurt him." I throw in a sly grin for effect. Rich smiles back, but it's a dubious, kind of scared smile. I'll have to remember to ask Dad exactly what he said to him; this is kind of fun.

----------

As he's walking away from the car I call out, "Bye Rich! Thanks!" I think I could have convinced him to let me tag along to the arcade, but it doesn't matter anyway 'cause Mom's impatient and just wants to go. "See ya 'round!"

"Yeah, later." I have to suppress a laugh 'cause he sounds so relieved. As I turn to get in the car I catch Mom looking at me with a really strange expression, like maybe she's kind of worried but also pondering something she can't quite puzzle out, but then she sees me looking at her and smiles blandly to cover it up. I shoot her a look of suspicion but by then she's turned away and doesn't see it, or pretends not to anyway.

----------

"Where are you going with all those?"

I'm guessing she's referring to the armload of Jockeys. You know, just a hunch. "Throwing 'em out, like you said to."

"But--you can't have many left. You don't expect me to wash your underwear every day, do you?"

"No, I got all new ones at the mall, remember?"

Mom furrows her brow and asks, "When? I didn't see you--"

Then Livy pipes in with, "I picked up a couple packs for her when she was getting the mirror, remember? And socks."

Mom looks at her, perplexed. "But--those weren't for you...?" You can see on her face when she makes the connection. "Oh--" She doesn't seem to know what else to say. A variety of expressions, none of them happy, are fighting for control of her face.

"I told you that's why I wanted to go there in the first place." I decide to let her work it out while I head for the kitchen to get a trash bag. I guess I should have gotten it first, but, you know, what fun would that have been?

----------

Knock, knock. "Yeah?"

Mom sticks her head in the door. "Steve just called, and we're having a guest for dinner again tonight." We should just change her middle name to 'exasperated' and be done with it, you know? "At least it's only one person this time, but I can't serve leftovers to company so I need to run to the supermarket again."

"OK. Hey, can you pick me up some of that double-sided foam tape? So I can put up my mirror?" It's leaning against the wall next to the closet door. I found out the hard way, you can't really attach something to a hollow-core door with screws. Luckily I can cover the damage with the mirror. She has a sour look on her face, so I go get the last of my change out of my purse and hand it to her. "Here." I try not to look quite as annoyed as I really am.

"Oh, all right." She sounds a little flustered. "I'll be right back. Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

"I'll try."

I can't believe I spent all my money on a freakin' purse. It is a pretty cool one, though. And these things sure can hold a lot more than pockets do.

Wait. If Dad's invited a guest for dinner, he must have forgotten about his promise to sit down with me afterward and listen to me explain about being a girl. I'm kind of disappointed in him, but at the same time relieved that I seem to be off the hook for tonight, at least.

----------

When I threw out my old underpants I forgot about the ones I'm wearing, so I take off my jeans to change. Just seeing the Jockeys kind of bums me out and I'm looking forward to being rid of them once and for all. As I take them off and see my thing unfurl between my legs I desperately wish I could do the same with that, and I get even more depressed. How is it that I can be so sure of what I am, who I am, and yet such a stupid little thing makes me feel like a big old fraud, like I'm totally deluding myself to think that anyone will ever really accept me as anything other than what my body says I am? I get a brief mental image of myself ten years from now, looking like Dad in bad drag, but I suppress it with a shudder before it can overwhelm me with despair. I know I don't look anything like that now and I don't want to face that yet.

I get a pair of my new panties out of the drawer where my Jockeys used to be but I feel a little weird putting them on. I mean, I'm a girl and girls wear panties, right? But that's not what I see as I'm pulling them up. I tuck myself away--I'm getting the hang of that so it doesn't take as much fiddling as it used to, and the panties actually seem to do a better job of holding things in place--and I look more like a girl's supposed to down there, but I feel like I'm just a boy playing dress-up or make-believe. At least I know that's how other people would see me, and I guess on some level they'd be kind of right. And it's hard to get what I just saw between my legs out of my head, much as I want to. As I turn around to look for where I dropped my jeans, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, from the chest down because it's resting on the floor. Only it's not myself I see, it's a nearly-naked thirteen-year-old chick with a firm and slender bod, and suddenly I have a boner straining to get out.

Oh dear god, that just looks so wrong. I shudder and pull the panties off as quickly as I can.

And now what I see in the mirror is really weirding me out, so off come the shirt and the stuffed bra.

I don't much like what I see in the mirror now but at least it seems relatively safe and normal. Just, you know, horribly depressing, but at least not somehow twisted.

I curl up on my bed, naked, not sure whether I want to cry or throw up, and try to think.

Like Felicia said, if I'm a girl, and seeing a half-naked chick turns me on, does that make me a lesbian?

I don't know. I wonder about it for a while but finally I decide it's not all that important to figure it out right now, since there aren't actually any half-naked chicks in my bedroom at the moment. Unless you count me, but A, I'm all naked, and B, I don't look much like a chick right now.

Anyway that's not what's really bothering me. It's the way my body reacted. I'd rather forget I even have the stupid thing, but it's kinda hard to do that when it forces itself to my attention like that. And it's really frustrating and in a way kind of scary that I have so little control over it. All the more so because I'm supposed to be a girl and that's not even supposed to happen and it's just one more thing to constantly remind me of what I'm not. And what a freak I am.

I'm starting to wonder if having this mirror in here is such a good idea after all.

---

 
To Be Continued...