MY Magic PDA part 1

Bob and Megan, a married couple in their final years retired for the night. Just before drifting off to sleep Bob made an off hand comment to which Megan agreed with a slight twist. They did not know something was listening and granted their wish. How will this challenge work out when they hardly know the rules of the game?

Sept 20, 2011
Newly edited through the unforgiving seventh grade English teacher. There are a few minor changes but nothing to alter the story. You will notice a change from first person narrative to third person in some scenes. This is intentional. The primary focus is from Bob/Sarah's point of view. I shifted to third person when Bob/Sarah was not involved in the scene and for areas where scene setting is involved. With that in mind it should lessen any confusion. I trust this helps convince you there is a method for the writers madness and it is not a lack of skill. This decision may be a failure but I did it on purpose.

Rights reserved by the author with permission to host granted exclusively to Big Closet.

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Muffled voices broke through my dreams as I could hear parts of an agitated discussion. An amber glow from a small clock reported it was one a.m.

“We have to clamp down”. A male voice said with urgency followed by a softer reply, “yes you are right but nothing has worked yet.”

I turned over burying my face into the pillow. I thought. 'This is another screwy dream.' Then there was nothing until I could feel the vibration of my cell phone. With my eyes firmly shut I pressed the offending machine to my ear. My face planted deeper into the pillow.

An angry slurred voice shouted “it’s 3 a.m. Where in hell are you with the money bitch?”

I hung up instantly shutting off the damn phone. I desperately tried to escape this dream from hell. Over the last year my wife of fifty years had suffered ever greater health issues. There is no way we could expect a rebound to better health. I remember the day before from within this stupid dream as I continually tossed and turned trying to wake. I focused on a silly conversation we had before I went to bed. After watching a science fiction movie, I suggested we could download into younger bodies. My wife, Megan laughed.

“You would like that me looking like that movie star.”

I shrugged replying, “not a bad idea.” Turning serious I added, “wouldn’t you do this over? I would if I could be with you.”

She sighed from behind tired eyes saying, “yes but this time you have the kids.”

My regard narrowed considering, “dear if that is what it would take to spend another lifetime with you, sure no problem.”

She smiled and turned over. “Go to sleep, you have no idea of results wrought from wishes. I love you for the thought.”

One more time I flipped to my other side at last having escaped that stupid dream. The voices had left and the dreaded cell phone remained off. Everything was good until I had to go to relieve myself. The bathroom was three steps from my bed. It was a large room with a wall length mirror over double length floor cabinet with soft blue night lights one to a side. The sunken tub sat just beyond the cabinet next to a toilet. A large walk in closet completed the room. I took one step out of bed with my eyes closed. Another step led into the darkened room. From the corner of my eye the blue light in the mirror caught my attention.

I never turned on the light when taking these late night runs. Megan's dismay resulted in her complaints whenever I missed the bowl. I usually adjusted for this by sitting down to go avoiding any chance of a bad aim as turning on that light sometimes woke me and this night as with many others I only wanted to make a quick turn back into bed. The image startled me. There in the mirror stood a young girl about sixteen perhaps. She had this hideous spiked black hair with a stud in her freaking tongue. I blinked closed, my eyes, relieved myself and dashed back to bed certain I was still dreaming. Silence, nothing but silence and darkness remained until the faint beep, beep of an alarm startled me awake.

Here was that face again in the darkened mirror highlighted by blue light. I watched my hand in the mirror as it reached up to touch the black spike on the top of the head. I closed my eyes reopening them as my gaze caught that hideous stud in the middle of her tongue. Stepping backward I sat on the throne and emptied my bladder and by rote cleaned myself. Afraid to examine any more and convinced my dreams continued, I made my way back to bed. There was no relief as my eyes opened at the sound of another beeping. This time it was not the clock, it came from under the bed. I reached down and felt my PDA right where I left it last night. Certain I turned it off I picked it up. Fully awake I glanced around the room it was similar to the one where I had gone to bed with Megan last night. Identical except for the single twin bed I occupied.

Again the PDA beeped. Flipping the lid open I discovered I had turned it off last night. How could it be beeping? I ignored it for the moment and starred at the night stand partially groggy.

The digital alarm that awoke me was not there the night before. Instead a simple clock radio regarded the space. The time reported to be six A.M. I reached under my pillow for the cell not finding it. Bending over I scanned under the bed, there was no sign of it. Confused, wondering if I was really awake, I stood ignoring the stupid beeping by tossing my pillow over it. I was wearing a black silk pajama in a style of shirt and trousers. I returned to the bathroom mirror to gaze at the person staring back at me. She was a teen perhaps sixteen or seventeen and stood about my old height of five foot eight inches. I actually caught my breath when I realized those breasts were smallish. It was a relief, at least getting used to those mounds would be easier, the smaller the better.

I retained a fading hope that I was still dreaming. No sounds flowed from anywhere in the house. I could see out the window and glimpse a tall mountain in the distance. It looked oddly familiar. This was a stand alone house and not an apartment. Not that it makes an immediate difference at the moment. Who the hell is this kid and how did I get here? Wherever here is. Another beep catches my attention and I disconnect the battery to shut the annoying PDA off. I am not ready to face whoever is waiting for me.

Back to the bed I sit with my PDA in my lap with the folding mini keyboard and battery attached. I glance to the lower right corner of the screen the clock reports six fifteen, August 30 but no year. That is odd, I think. I double click the time to open the calendar. I see only month, day and time reported in annoying red flashing digits. Biting my lip I finally boot up to see a flashing box. You have a message! I am surprisingly calm considering I am a seventy year old male with a doctorate in computer programming harboring the body of a late teen female Goth. I hit the button to read. Interactive Text start with enter key.

“Hello Sarah.” flashes on the screen.

I respond by typing, “you mean Bob.” In almost an instant the screen flashes again, “not anymore Sarah in case you have not noticed Bob does not fit.”

I take another deep breath before firing off a response. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about preferably, before I wake up. I’d hate to repeat this dream again tomorrow.” With almost no pause a text appears.

“This is no dream we heard your offer last night and decided to take you up on it. The Boss downloaded you and Megan into other bodies. You are also in another time period."

“Downloaded,” I type, “you mean I am a freaking Cylon?”

Within seconds a return message appears, “download is an easy way to describe it. The actual mechanics are beyond your grasp. Just be quiet and listen. You were given this opportunity because the boss likes you and considers your life long behavior deserving.”

I type, “great what about Megan where is she?” Then wait for the response more convinced this is a bad dream gone viral. A convoluted answer follows.

“all in due time. You are in the body of a screwed up kid that died tomorrow.”

I blink while typing, “tomorrow? If it is tomorrow how can I be here and where the hell is she?“ Whoever I was texting followed with an incredulous almost sarcastic response.

“Sarah, Sarah, I, don’t have time for this. Consider if we can do what you see before you. Why is it so hard to believe we can replace her before the fatal act?” I, don’t respond and listened as he or it continued. “If her actions had not changed others that were important, we would not have interfered.”

“So,” I begin, “this must be a short test change events by tomorrow and be on my merry way.”

I thought this is getting weird. Though, I want the information I am not too comfortable having a conversation with an unknown actor. I have to humor it to get answers, unless I wake up that is.

“Oh but it will take longer than that. I will explain. Sarah screwed up big time as she rebelled and gravitated toward the drug culture. Her loser of a boy friend conned her into giving him a large amount of her inheritance which she turns over tonight. Sarah has a trust fund given her by her grandmother.”

I jump in with, “Let me get this straight. I am a drugged out little Goth witch who gives her money to a loser and gets killed for it.”

He responds in a cynical manor. “That about sums it up Bob. Except it gets worse. The result causes the girl‘s mother to have a heart attack.”

I exhale even more slowly. I write “just what am I supposed to do? What about the real owner of this body?”

Growing more impatient it interrupts, “I was coming to that. You need to stop the events and get the kid’s life back on track. The boss will then return the girl to her body if she deserves it and you and Megan will be reunited. It is not hopeless. The boss removed all traces of any drug effects and you are once again a virgin.”

With my eyes narrowing I type, “except the many guys who had her are not likely to forget. By the way how many are there? Just how much of a slut am I? Just who is the boss? I have to change the cycle of events and that is it? How long do I have?”

The answer is simple enough, that is for a dream right out the comedy channel, “as long as it takes. You nearly flunked your Junior year and the boss is expecting you to at least graduate high school. The boss is the head of the universe, God for lack of a better name. It was easy for him to wipe their memories of your sexual favors. How many does not matter for now it never happened.”

I blink, thinking rapidly, “a year! What about Megan, don’t tell me, she is the freaking drugged out boy friend.”

A rapid response flashes across the screen, “no, no, you won’t know who Megan is but he,,, ops, has a different task.”

“You slipped.” I replied, “Megan is a he! I bet she let you have it over that.” I waited for a long moment the answer coming after a pause. Then I considered it typed the answer followed by ops meaning that slip was intentional.

“All I can tell you is he is dealing with it and is no longer pissed at you for causing this.”

“Wait a minute!” I nearly scream typing in all caps. “It was not my idea to become a Cylon Goth witch. I only mused about how far I’d go to relieve the pain Megan endured. Don‘t blame your interference on me ”

There was silence for a moment before a response appeared. “Sarah you are not a Cylon, you don’t have to be a Goth that is for you to change. As for witch, you might be, I can’t say but the boss has been known to do that.” I gasp, followed by a quick response, “what now?”

The question raised by the rapid response to my gasp caught me a bit and I blurted out. “I think, and you hear me? Why in the hell am I typing?”

“It was easier for you to handle my girl,” said the voice appearing in my head. He did not wait for a response before continuing.

“Keep your PDA hidden. Once a month on the last Saturday you can communicate with Megan. You are not allowed to reveal who or where you are. That information will not transmit. You are in the year 1979 so you know why that PDA is a secret.”

Did I hear that right? I could not let that go. “You are telling me that your screw up in 1979 is so urgent you waited until 2011 to bring me back in time to correct it? That makes no sense. Did you consider whatever I do will also create changes?” I sat back thinking ‘I got you now.’

The answer was even more of a reach. “The boss has a difficult task running the universe. Sometimes events are missed. I will keep it simple. The girl, Sarah is an important cog in the wheel. Without her descendant an important event that must take place in 2013 cannot happen. Alas any minor disruption you may cause will be of little importance. Your assistance will only prevent this girl from destroying herself, among other little events.”

I, grew weary of this cryptic BS. I exclaim “1979 and we are communicating over an internet. There is no internet in 1979." With a chuckle, I consider the opportunity to purchase some of the stock winners. I respond with, “ok so when do I wake up from this dream?” The PDA goes dark. I reboot it to discover all my programs are there but no internet when I read. “it has not been invented yet.” I consider that adding, “either has any of these programs,” only to read. “Quit bitching enjoy.”

Dangling my feet off the bed I consider this sick joke as I am clearly not dreaming. I have to ditch the boy friend, not give him the money tonight, avoid getting killed and turn a rebel into an honor student. Then just perhaps I get to see Megan again. After that just what is my next magical trick? When was that Microsoft IPO? I muse with a half smile. The voice says, “not for a couple of years.”

“How do I get in touch with you?” I ask aloud. “Turn on the PDA if I have anything to say you will hear me,” comes the reply followed by another voice from a distance. It was not my friend in the magical PDA. No friend is not the right attribute. Handler sounds more like it. This voice came from downstairs. “I hear you are up and moving around. Hurry up and get down here your father wants to talk with you before he leaves.”

Great I think no respite and I have to figure this mess out. “In a few I have to get dressed,” I yell down. Before doing anything else, I bury my PDA into the dark recess of my closet and notice my cell phone is not under the pillow. It went the way of the digital alarm. Cell phones for all practical reasons were not as we know them now. They were mostly mobile phones used in cars, weighed over two pounds and were not very compact. I could see my pulling this little thing out of a purse everyone would freak out and it would not work anyway. How in hell can I get along without the internet? I, shrug and shovel through my closet for clothes. I look through the array of every ugly costume that could possibly exist. I am not a fashion expert but I know gross and this kid mastered in gross. There is nothing here that I could possibly show this body in. Exit the closet and rummage through the drawers. I manage to find a pair of jeans and a silky cream colored tank top, oh well. I grab a pair of boy type nylon panties and a bra and head off to the shower. Mother I suppose, again commands my presence, “are you dressed yet”

I yell back “getting out of the shower, give me a few.” I, can’t get used to this voice, though it sounds nice it is not me. As I stare into the mirror looking at that butt ugly black mane I start beating it with a brush. At least the towering spikes disappeared but there is no semblance of order. Better yet I found no tattoos while examining myself in the shower. I fluff up the hair here and there wondering how on earth do women do it? The problem is I appear to have none of this girl’s memories and will have to fake it. She must have a diary around here someplace. Speak little and listen hard perhaps we can pull this off. I look at the clock and it is well short of eight A.M. What kind of kid gets up before eight on a Saturday? Not this one I bet. With a shrug exhaling a breath of exasperation I open the door to step into the breach.

A long hallway lined with a highly polished maple spindle railing led to the carpeted steps. On a floral paper printed wall was a family portrait. I stopped to gaze at it noting a very attractive blond woman and a handsome man. Both are in their late thirties and of fine health. They stood behind a girl sitting on a straight chair like what you would find in a dining room. Perhaps thirteen or fourteen and quite pretty. Like the mother she had a pixie style blond hair cut. Pixie style is my best description. What do I know? It looked like a young Meg Ryan. I am sure they had a name for it that escaped me. I never did pay too much attention to that stuff. A sudden thought almost brought a chuckle as I mused. The voice said I might be a witch. That begs the question what would Hermione do? That is easy, she’d simply point her wand at the picture whispering, replicate! I suddenly noticed that girl was me. What the hell happened to her? I descended the stairs knowing I had to find that wand.

The stairs empty into an open area on the first floor between the living room and a dinning room. To the left my parents are sitting at the table finishing breakfast. Mom is wearing a sweat suit and dad a tee shirt and jeans both looking very much like the couple in the picture. I walk past mom behind her chair and pour a cup of coffee without saying anything just offering a nod of the head. I sit quickly opposite them as they occupy each end of the table. Mom looks at me with a disapproving gaze while dad’s eyes widen as he mumbles, “coffee?”

I simply nod again knowing better than to start a conversation. The extended silence almost last forever until mom speaks up. “You have to do something with that hair.”

Dad raises his brow while nodding his agreement. Then interjects, “That is the least of it. You are aware we are at our limit with your acting out. It is a good thing there is nothing lower than a grade of F.”

I almost offered another "whatever," but thought the better of it. Instead I agreed to try to do better.

Have you ever wanted to say, "screw it" and run out the door screaming? Just run with no destination. I almost did. That is how I felt it suddenly appeared like I was thrown into the deep end without a life line. I let out a silent scream, 'Megs where the hell are you' I need you now. My withdrawal was broken by words every kid has come to know at one time or another as my father spoke in a steady firm controlled voice.

“Sarah, you are going to change starting now. He added the word teenage girls hate, "grounded forever." Then came his pause for effect. He was not through. “This afternoon you and I are going to take a drive to Pinewood. Before that mother is taking you to get that awful mess out of your hair. You need to look presentable for school next week.”

I rolled my eyes listening. God, he is good! I thought, before saying something stupid.
“Pinewood, is that a cemetery, why are we going there?”

The silence was deafening. I knew I should have simply said, whatever, if I was compelled to speak at all. “Young lady,” came dad’s measured response, “considering your behavior it just might be. It is a private school that is quite demanding. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you in there. We need to introduce you to the dean and pick up your uniforms”

I could think of a lot of one liners such as, just like the president you hid my grades? I decided to keep quiet. It's different president and being a wise ass at this moment not a good choice. Instead I simply nodded my assent. Mom looked stunned I sensed she expected some sort of loud protest. I simply smiled at her asking “when are we going to the barber shop?” I began to consider they were doing exactly what I needed but I should display some resistance for show. This girl would have demonstrated some level of temper. My being new at this girl gig I had no idea how much temper is too much.

Mother smiled repeating “barber shop.” That is not a bad idea because I was thinking how cute you'd look with a buzz cut.” She sipped her coffee ignoring the bait I threw into the water while turning her attention toward father. “Martin why don’t we meet you at the school after we finish at the hair dresser?”

Dad leaned forward considering before nodding his assent and turned toward me. “You are rather quiet, do you have anything to say?”

I rolled my eyes at a complete loss and could only utter a single word, “whatever.”

Mother stood walking straight toward me in a sudden motion. I blinked thinking she was about to slap me. Her eyes widened as she passed wordlessly stopping at the sink where she rinsed her cup. “Whatever, is that all? Meaning whatever you say dear father, I will cooperate? Or whatever, you think you are not in control and I will do whatever I want? Before you answer consider we are going to do what is in your best interest.” She sat back down issuing that look mastered by parents over years of war with teenagers.

I still did not respond verbally but rolled my eyes in the classic whatever display. Father leaned forward cryptically saying. “We are doing this because you told us this is what you wanted.” Stunned, I shot back, “when did I ever say I wanted this?”

Father smiled broadly as leaned forward chin resting in his palms braced by elbows on the table. “Let’s see you chose to be truant, not do your school work and fail classes. You decided to turn a pretty girl into a Goth and run with a crowd of criminals. By your actions you stated clearly you could not make decisions in your own best interest. You screamed loud and clear that you needed tighter restrictions, tougher rules, more supervision and clear boundaries. Because we love you, we are giving you what you said you needed.”

My eyes grew wider as my mouth dropped open unable to answer. Another eternal moment occurred before I could form a response and when I did this came out. “Mother what time is the appointment? I need to go to my room and rest I am tired.” Mother’s expression was one of calm surprise. My answer shocked her as she expected exactly the opposite of how I presented. She could not figure out my attitude shift. My eyes shifted toward father trying to read him. Having raised three kids myself I recognized this guy is good.

Gretchen, that is mother’s name, answered “1 o’clock be ready, you can go to your room but no phone.”

It took seconds for me to exit the table run upstairs and close my door, loud enough for them to hear. I quietly opened it and crept toward the railing to listen. I could hear mother's voice. “What do you think?’ Father responded “it went better than I expected. Is it the quiet before the storm?”

Back in my room I searched frantically for that diary. Without any luck I only managed to create a pile of clothes on the closet floor. I closed the door resolving to make a trip to the Goodwill with a large donation. In desperation I flipped opened the PDA to find a message. “You did good, not too over the top. The diary is under the rug behind the dresser.” Way to go voice, I mouthed silently.

Sitting on the bed legs tucked under me in a position I could never have achieved before waking up in this state. I read and processed the information that was Sarah. I had to pay attention to hygiene which was becoming more and more of a pain. It is a radical change from my old form requirements. I could not wait to complete this mission and get back to normal. Gazing into the mirror I thought, girl you could be a real heart breaker if only you weren’t so screwed up. That obnoxious stud central to my tongue was a real pain, it had to go. How anyone could consider this to be an advantage was a mystery to me. How do I get rid of it? Then I thought of the voice and a devilish idea formed, What would Hermione do? I stared into the mirror sticking my tongue out. Pointing a finger at the stud like a wand I shouted, “Removify.” Feeling a bit foolish I blinked, the damn thing was gone. With an impish smile I wondered how far can I go with this. Worse, how do I explain where it went? Keep my mouth shut for now and claim I popped into the clinic later. Hours passed as it is now crowding noon and with a new understanding I stashed the PDA and went downstairs to face mother. I did not dare try the wand trick on my hair because I could in no way explain the change.

I did learn that father was an executive with an area lumber company. When this state, New York, began it’s attack on logging, lumber mills and everything concerning forest products it destroyed the local economy. Lost jobs caused severe financial hardships. Most working class families suffered. Many moved away. Those who stayed accepted low pay service level jobs. These well intentioned progressive ideas always have unintended consequences. Those who advocate policy changes are never the ones affected. It is always people like Sarah who suffer the consequences. People who had decent paying jobs not only lost their security they lost their sense of self as well.

Dad landed on his feet getting a high paying job with the phone company. Sarah took the brunt of it as the kids singled her out because her family did not suffer as most did. Her father had nothing to do with it but that did not matter. She rebelled buying into the notion her father was partly to blame for the economic destruction. Being an engineer I understood the need to protect the environment but I also knew the game was played by creating a villain. There never seemed to be a middle ground with these passionate issues. A fourteen year old became a target. She rebelled resenting both her parents and those who targeted her. She was essentially friendless and a tool of those from the dark side. I am a little more sympathetic toward the girl and beginning to take this personally. Because of the diary, I at least figured out I was in NY thousands of miles from where I had lived. But exactly where I am not sure and it is not a question I could simply ask, “hey mom what is the name of this town?” Sure I will ask that question. That mountain out the window I think I know what that is, hmm.”

The ride to the salon was done in almost total silence. Mom was acting a bit defensive as if she expected me to bolt out of the car at any minute. I decided perhaps some non threatening conversation would help.

“How long is this going to take?”

Mom took a deep exasperated breath. "Are you planning to go somewhere? Because, you are not." Since you ask, it will take an hour.”

I exhaled slowly for dramatic effect. “Then we go to the prison right?”

I heard an exaggerated sigh. The woman to my left, spoke again. “I am not your enemy we are only doing what is best for you. Clearly, you are not happy where you are going to school. Think of this as an opportunity for a new start. I volunteered to drive you the twenty-five minutes each way on a daily basis because I love you.”

Sarah most likely would have come back with a snippy one liner. Instead I changed the subject. “Do we have any of those thirty gallon leaf bags at home.”

Gretchen blinked, “What! Why are you going to rake the lawn?”

I laughed, “no I need to clean out my closet and make a trip to Goodwill. I doubt my present wardrobe will fit my new style. By the way, what do you think if I get it cut short, feathered in layers covering my ears with a slight touch of bangs? I want it sort of like yours but not the same.”

Mother almost slams on the breaks. She, stammers “are, are you serious?

I answer, "of course I am."

Mother responds "I’d like that done in your natural color. Why did you suddenly change your mind?"

Capitulation is never easy and having never been a rebel I had no interest in playing one. I was aware to achieve my assignment an end to this war of attrition must be found. There were bigger battles to fight. From what I could determine the enemy was not Sarah’s parents. Not only did I need to figure out how to get through this mess I needed a safe place to operate. To answer her question was not easy. Better to say little, “because it is time?”

I sat in the chair as Gloria approached with a perky persona chirping non stop as she began her work on my wild crop. I had instructed her that I liked the look of O.N.J. on her Physical album cover and wanted my natural honey blond coloring back. The album had not been released yet. Try explaining the Physical look when the rage is a few years in the future. Gloria handed me a book and I found something close. In about an hour she finished and here I sit gazing into a mirror with a younger version of Olivia looking back. I wondered what Megs would say if she could see her old man now. I just starred as Gloria waited for my reaction. All I could think of is wow, I like the new me. All I could say is “cool.” All I lack is the singing voice and the Australian accent.

Mom was speechless and obviously quite pleased as we walked back to the car. She kept repeating statements like “Your father will be pleased.”

She made attempts to sell me on the new school. I was not too thrilled about that aspect. It was like being thrown to the wolves. I may be able to fool the adults but the peer group is a different animal. I never gave a thought to the possibility the new Sarah would be viewed as a trophy, worse yet she is hot! It proved to be a twenty five minute drive to the outskirts of a medium sized city where a stately Victorian array of ivy covered buildings formed the school’s campus. It looked like something set in the English countryside. I could smell preppy it reeked of preppy.

Inside we met the stuffy middle aged portly Dean having indicated the term Head Master was out dated. Groveling appeared to be the preferred persona so I remained as silent as I could while the Dean droned on about tradition, selectivity and honor. They had a limited number of seats. He claimed the school allowed for two hundred students spread through four year levels. Fortunately for us a few in the coming senior year caused a scene and were asked to leave. Mother and father did all the talking as I mostly looked out the window hoping to avoid any evaluation. That was not to be as they ushered me into another room where I spent the next hour taking some dumb tests to establish my basic ability. With that done we were given a tour of the grounds and buildings. Again the Dean droned on and on. I contributed only a few yes and no sirs doing my part to schmooze keeping parents and Dean happy.

Another hour had passed before the dean was approached by a smiling lackey. Then read the paper mumbling, “very good, very good. Your daughter Mr. and Mrs. Ryan is very impressive”

I blinked not sure if this was a good thing or not as he droned on.

“You will start Thursday after the weekend’s holiday. We will go to the office for your schedule and don’t forget to get your uniforms. Three sets didn’t you say Mrs. Ryan?”

Mother nodded and the Dean followed with, “Blue blazer, white blouse with a blue and gold plaid skirt. No more than an inch above the knees and of course you can wear navy tights during the cold months.”

I rolled my eyes thinking great I hoped to avoid skirts and tights. I thought myself as a jeans girl. Megs will love this. Now I have to get home, talk to Megs and figure out how to get rid of the inbred Mark. Yes, the sick boy friend has a name. All of this right after a trip to Radio Shack.

We ate at the local Mickey D’s arriving home at six pm. Talk about cutting it close, in an hour I could contact Megs. At least I’d know if she was firmly on the ground. Though I am uncertain how she is viewing our circumstance. Did I really create this mess? Does she really want to work toward our reunion? Is she pissed about being a guy or worse yet does she like the idea? Too many questions and I still have to lay out my plan to deal with that loser Mark. I suspect from Sarah’s brain washed writings this guy is dangerous.

I picked up several trash bags along with my uniforms and told my parents I would be spending the next few hours cleaning out my closets. Hopefully, this will give me cover and time to talk with Megs. They simply smiled upon hearing the information probably hoping this new Sarah was not another trick. I threw together one bag rather quickly and dragged it downstairs.

Father intercepted me as I rounded the corner into the dinning room toward the outside door.

“You were serious” He said with a pleased tone.

Still walking toward the door I answered, “Oh yeah the Goth thing has gone past its prime.” It was the first thing that came to mind.

Dad smiled saying “You can throw it the back of my car. I will take it to Goodwill Monday on my way to work.”

Upon my return from the car I added “I have a lot more.” A bit relieved I did not have to do it myself.

Dad gave me a hug as I turned toward the stairs. Mom just looked doubtful but at least she appeared a bit more relaxed.

Back on my bed I booted up just before seven and the Voice greeted me with another warning. “I am listening you cannot reveal who or where you are or any details of your circumstances.”

I nodded my assent with no response and the voice after a long moment repeated his warning.

“Did you hear me?” He asked.

My eyes widened and I began typing rapidly answering in the affirmative and asked. “Where is Megan?” I did not expect an address but rather inquired when will she be connected.

“She will be right on I will be quiet now” the voice answered.

“No wait” I typed in caps because I‘d rather read lines of text than hear voices in my head.

The voice came back “what is it?”

“I wanted to know this Mark fellow can I reach him on the PDA?”

“What an odd question I think you can tap into his phone by typing the number. Why do you ask?”

The voice sounded interested as my query caught him off guard.

“As you know my problem is tonight and perhaps I need to call him to set up a meet. It is not like I can use the phone and getting out of here is not the easiest scam to pull off.”

My handler gave off a thoughtful hum before answering.

“The powers of your magic PDA can handle that. You type he hears your voice and his words come back to you as text.”

“Thanks now where is Megan.” Before I can add anything else, he is gone and a single word pops up on the screen.

"Hi" the one word message appears on my screen.
“Megs?” I type excitedly.
“Bob?” she responds.

My head is spinning as I fire away. “How are you how are you feeling?’

“I am feeling great, never better. This is really weird.”

Megs goes on for a minute longer telling me she is not sure she likes being a guy. Then she admitted there are some advantages. Somewhat relieved I asked her. “You are not mad at me for creating this mess?”

How could you know babe? You did not do anything other than worry about me. You have always looked out for me?” She then added. “Speaking about babe, I hear you are quite the looker.” As is her nature she responded with teasing.

I grimaced, “Uh it takes some getting used to. Though, you caught on quickly calling me babe already. I know you can’t say anything. How hard is what you have to do?”

She assures me that it is nothing too difficult and is hopeful we will be reunited soon. I find it hard to think of my wife as a he. I agree to that again. While seeking reassurance I ask, “is everything is ok, you are all right?”

Again she assures me that things are different but she feels great. She did question who is in charge. The little man salutes every cute girl she sees.

I laugh before typing “It goes with the territory and leave the cute girls alone.”

We talked for about thirty minutes and I did learn she could see the same mountain from her bed room window that I could. Meg was always great with descriptions and to non mountain climbers one mountain looks much like another. But her description of a series of slides appearing to spell the word no was the tip off. The voice soon disconnected us until next month but I was certain Meg was in this town. Now to figure out who he is.

I read Sarah’s diary again. She revealed Mark and his friend were low life drug dealers who got her hooked on meth. She paid for her habit by doing favors for both Mark and Walter. She only had sex with Walter to prove her love for Mark. Mark said watching her do Walter gave him great satisfaction. She was convinced by Mark to give him three thousand dollars from her account. If she did not, Mark’s creditors would do him considerable harm. She was to give him the money by this evening. That explains the three A.M. phone call. Obviously Sarah had not drawn the money out of the bank. Unless she got it yesterday and hid it somewhere. I know I did not go get it and Sarah was removed before 1 A.M. “What about it voice when did you remove Sarah?’ I typed into my laptop.

His rapid response spread out on the screen. “Yesterday, right after a blow out with her parents after dinner, why do you ask?” Came the quick response to which I replied.

“I need to know if she got the money for her friend.”

The voice said, “no it was up to you to get it today.”

Slightly bent out of shape I thanked him for setting me up. “There is no way I can get it now. Thanks for not telling me. Is there anything else I should know? It is fun playing your games but the least you can do is explain the freaking rules. Like how many other people are screwing this babe?”

The voice showing irritation fired back. “I told you no one that has been erased.”

I considered this a moment. “So Walt does not remember banging Sarah. About my lover Mark, I have a plan but a few more details will help.’

The voice assured me that neither of these guys remembered having sex with Sarah but they both were going to do her big time when she showed with the money tonight. I signed off letting him know that I was less than pleased with this operation. At least that saves me a conversation with my parents trying to figure out the girl’s actions yesterday. I’m not sure I wanted to know about the big blow out. It was time to test my theory.

I reached into the dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and threw them on the floor. Let’s see if that finger works. I recall a spell from my studies of Hogwarts. Yeah I know it is fantasy and pure fiction. Then again here I am a seventy year old man in the body of a seventeen year old girl using a PDA that has not been invented yet. I look at this angelic face in the mirror and fully believe that Hogwarts spells just might work. Looking down at the shorts I point my magic finger and said, Engorgio. The shorts blew up from a size three to a size twelve in seconds. I smiled broadly, pointed my finger again saying Reducio. Bang back to a size three. Grinning even more broadly I mused I like this. Let’s try another one. I walk into the hall close my eyes and focus on my bathroom. I think Apparate, suddenly I get dizzy and find myself standing in the tub. This is going to take practice. So I am a witch. I, don’t know how good but we are going to find out.

I open the PDA and type in Mark’s number and quickly hear, “What’s up babe, got the money?’

I respond rather quickly by typing Obliviate Sarah. It is a spell that erases whatever you dictate from the target’s memory. I am counting on it causing Mark to forget he knows me. I heard Mark saying “Who is this?”

I answer, “You don’t remember me. I am Walter’s girl is he there?”

The phone is handed over because I hear, “Hello.”

I quickly type Obliviate Sarah.

“Look bitch quit playing games whoever you are.” I hung up.

I am not sure if that worked but the reaction suggest it may have. I accomplished task number one. All I have to do now is complete a school year and find Megs. I have to know if this worked because I don’t need to be ambushed by a couple of thugs. I sit there for several minutes feet dangling from the bed. I decide that I need to sneak over to Harry’s Dog Shack. That is where Mark and Walter hang out. If I walk in and they, don’t know me then all is well. If they do, I sure hope this apparate spell works.

The problem became how do I get out of here? Sarah’s diary informed me of her oft used route down the trellis from her window. Thanks to the short hair there was no need to tie it back. I simply donned a Yankee baseball cap which I promised to lose before I get back. The tight jeans were a chore to snake into but with a sloppy blue sweat shirt I was ready to go. I spied my purse on the bed stand. Shaking my head in denial, no purse for me, I jammed my essentials into the pockets of my jeans and crawled out the window. It was a bit shaky descending down that trellis but soon the feet were secure on the ground I quickly scampered into the trees. Having never done this before, I was rather out of my element. I shrugged, in for a penny in for a pound, closed my eyes concentrating on the village park in my mind. The non verbal thought of apparate repeated through clenched teeth deposited me near the bandstand. God, I thought, thank goodness no one saw that. I have to be more careful. Without warning I could hear the Voice comment, “yes you do.”

I could see the dog shack across the main street on the other side of the park. I approached the door tepidly entering quietly. There sat Mark and Walter in a dark corner. Sarah had their pictures, that is how I knew. Ignoring them, I walked to the counter and sat on a stool. I could feel their stares as unseen eyes measured my profile as if I am a piece of meat. I glance into a large wall mirror behind the counter watching their reflection. They are huddled together mumbling while tilting their gaze toward me. It is quite unsettling as the counter man walks over, “whadda you have?”

Taking a short breath I answer, “a dozen dogs with the works to go.”

He turns, placing the order into a white cardboard carton, closes it then hands it over saying, “three bucks.”

I fish three singles from my pocket handing them over and turn to leave. My way is blocked by Mark and Walter with the former saying, “you can’t leave just yet babe.”

I blink trying to step past him. “Out of my way I, don’t know you clowns.”

Walter steps closer saying, “quite true but you will before the night is over.”

He does not finish his comment as his leer is interrupted by an angry blond woman rushing through the door. She grabs Walter by the arm spinning him around. “Crawl back into your hole slug while you still can.”

Turning to me she says, “in the car.” Stunned I rush out directly to the car with mom marching behind.

The short ride home featured a non stop lecture ending with “you are grounded.”

I sheepishly respond “I only went out to get us some hot dogs.”

That was met with an icy stare and stone silence. It was only a ten minute drive but it seemed forever. Dad looked furious as he was greeted with mom’s ’I told you so stare’. I scampered up the stairs to my room. I no sooner settled down on a corner of my bed, opened up the PDA when Dad’s voice called up from the bottom of the stairs. “You better get down here the dogs are getting cold.”

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