The summer I turned thirteen, my parents thought it would be great if I spent all summer with my cousins in a lakeside cabin.

The Cabin, by Karin Bishop

Part 1

Chapter 1: To The Lake

The summer I turned thirteen, my parents went to Europe on an extended business trip with a vacation added. They thought it would be great if I spent all summer with my cousins in a lakeside cabin. This had happened the previous year as well; they always said it was good to get to know Family.

My uncle Jack Henderson was a loud, cigar-smoking “man’s man”, all about ‘huntin’ ‘n fishin’. He was a big man, over six feet, and had played football in college. He’d had an insurance job for years but had moved into some kind of sales. Even last year, he’d changed and gotten more macho, somehow. He’d raised his oldest boy, Chuck, in the same mold. Chuck looked like a smaller version of his father with the same dark wiry hair but was already bulking up, and he was already full of the same macho swagger at seventeen. His brother Larry was fourteen, and wasn’t as bad, but probably would wind up the same as Chuck. His hair was darker and straighter and he wasn’t as overall big as the other men in his family.

The youngest child, Cynthia, was thirteen. She was a blonde girl that had kept to herself each summer; I really didn’t know a lot about her because the circumstances didn’t allow conversation between us, in the confines of the cabin–but I’d always liked her and wished we could have hung out more. Her mother was my aunt Margaret, my father’s sister, who suffered her macho men in silence. Margaret was the graceful version of my father, with the blonde hair that she’d passed on to Cindy, and happy blue eyes. She’d been a sociologist and had left a business to marry and start a family. I wondered sometimes if she regretted it; but she had smarts and humor, and had raised Cindy to be her own person. Although both females appeared to the men to be models of feminine submissiveness, I’d always had the feeling there was iron in them, and liked them both immensely because of it.

I was the opposite of a macho man. I was thin and kind of short. My skin was clear–acne was not a problem–and I’d grown my dirty blond hair long like a lot of kids, almost down to my shoulders, but I guess nobody thought I was cool enough to hang out with. My father, Steven Thornton, traveled so much on business that he was rarely home; he was some type of international troubleshooter for his company. Mom was sort of famous for a business book she’d written when she was still Elizabeth Harriman, and now worked very hard at a corporate job as well–although we didn’t seem to need the money–so it seemed like I was raising myself. My parents were all about becoming independent and ‘one’s own person; so they had no problem that I was what they call ‘a latch-key kid’, getting myself up in the morning for school, and coming home to an empty house. We were pretty well-to-do, and it was a nice, big house, but it was still an empty house. I had very few friends. I didn’t really fit in with the other boys in my class; they seemed like a different species sometimes. I had a couple of girls in my class that I talked with and we got along, but we never did anything together because it wasn’t considered cool for boys and girls to hang out yet. I didn’t fit in anywhere. So mostly I stayed home and read. I felt like I was in some sort of holding pattern; I hadn’t started the teenage years quite yet, and everything felt possible but was too far away to grasp.

I do know that I dreaded the summer. The thought of two months with those macho jerks turned my stomach. The year before I’d only spent two weeks there, and it was full of cruelty to animals–catching and gutting fish was pretty normal, but Chuck liked to shoot, so he and Larry proceeded to wipe out every life form around the cabin. One time Chuck shot a bird, then drove a nail through its skull into a tree and used it for target practice until the body separated from the neck and fell to earth. Larry laughed until he choked. Sick stuff.

My cousins picked me up at our house; Mom and Dad were catching a cab for the airport later that day. I sat on my bags on the front porch, awaiting my doom. My uncle’s big dirty station wagon pulled up and my heart sank; up to the last moment I was hoping for a last-minute reprieve. With the usual family bustle my stuff was loaded in and we set off. Chuck immediately commented that I looked like a faggot with my long hair. My uncle haw-hawed his agreement. I noticed that Larry’s hair was kind of long, but that went unnoticed. My aunt said that lots of boys wore long hair, and Cindy pointed out that Chuck’s best friend had hair even longer than mine. Right away the lines were drawn, and I knew who my allies were.

It was a typical long, dusty drive; with a fast food stop and later a ‘piss stop’ as my uncle called it. Larry got carsick about fifteen minutes from the cabin; he’d been grumbling for nearly an hour but my uncle kept telling him to ‘Be a man’ and refused to pull over, even when Larry finally made a strangled sound and clapped his hands over his mouth. My aunt rolled her window down and Larry spewed out the window and down the side of the car. My uncle cursed him and commanded him to wash the car when we arrived. So we were off to a great start.

The cabin was a large A-frame; quite beautiful actually against the pines. It was truly lakeside, with a dock and a small motorboat tied up. My uncle had some good years awhile back and bought it as the first step up towards joining the Country Club across the lake, but his business soured and nothing came of it. The cabin was fully equipped: phone, TV with a satellite dish, laundry, garage; everything a normal house would have, but no computer. I liked the cabin; I just hated the guys in it. I dragged my bags upstairs as Larry began washing the car.

As a guest they put me in the top bedroom; it was a very small loft, actually, and it felt like exile. Cindy and my aunt had a bedroom, the two boys and my uncle another. I didn’t really need to change, so I went down to check out how things had changed since last year. I could hear Chuck and my uncle planning a hunting trip. My aunt and Cindy were puttering around in the kitchen, the radio playing some soft jazz, which surprised me. My uncle called down to “Turn that shit off!” and I saw the look that passed between the females as they obeyed. I chuckled to myself; I knew that as soon as the menfolk left the music would come back on.

I walked down to the dock, looked across the lake. I walked back around the cabin and came to Larry still washing the car. He was grumbling and cursing about how he was going to tell them where to stuff it, and so on. I knew that Chuck generally made his life miserable, as I’m sure my uncle had made Chuck’s life awful, until the boys would turn as ‘tough’ as my uncle. Chuck bragged and swaggered; Larry was surly and sulked. Inwardly I sighed; if I couldn’t get some time to myself to read, it was going to be a long, miserable summer.

Chapter 2: The Sporting-Goods Store

The next few days were spent getting the cabin and surrounding area cleared for the summer. We all pitched in and raked, cut weeds, and cleared the roof. It was hot and dirty work, and we’d look forward to a cool plunge in the lake at the end of the day. Chuck laughed at me the first time he saw my bathing suit; my mom had bought me a pair of Speedos in Europe and they were tight, like bikini briefs. Combined with my long hair, small thin frame, and white skin (I hadn’t had a chance to tan yet), I probably looked girlish. Chuck shouted out, “Where’s your bikini top, honey?” and guffawed, and my uncle and Larry joined in. I ignored them (something I was learning from my aunt and Cindy) and went swimming anyway.

The guys also spent time getting things ready for an extended hunting/camping trip; ‘the menfolk’ would leave at the end of the week for ten days or so. I was dreading going along with them; I just remembered last year’s trip as full of wet sleeping bags, runny noses, sex jokes, burping and farting, and macho bonding crap. Apparently my uncle had forgotten something, or it was missing from the cabin, because we had to take a run into the bigger town for some provisions. It was almost an hour each way, so we all went. We dropped off Cindy and her mom before heading to the sporting goods store. My uncle was buying ammo when Chuck and Larry came up behind me.

“Well, which one are you?” Larry said laughing, shoving two photos of deer at me. One was a doe and one was a buck. I knew what they meant and was mad, but also felt very cold somehow. I remembered how Cindy handled her brothers; she dismissed them.

“Chuck, Larry’s confused. Maybe you can help him,” I said, and turned to check out the swimming gear. I was thinking maybe if I found a sufficiently macho swim suit they wouldn’t bug me so much at the lake. I thought I overheard Chuck say “She don’t know”, but maybe it was my imagination.

I never found a decent suit before we left, with Chuck pushing a shopping cart filled with shooting and fishing supplies, heaters, and who knew what else. I tagged along behind; even Larry didn’t hang with me as he had last year. We piled everything into the station wagon, stopped to pick up my aunt and Cindy who had several bags with them.

“Figures. Women just can’t control themselves in a store. They got to buy, buy, buy,” groused my uncle, completely ignoring the fact that he’d just spent hundreds of dollars at the sporting goods store.

“Hey,” I started to say; I was angry on behalf of my aunt. “What about–” and I caught her eye; somehow I knew her meaning–leave it be.

“What about what?” asked Chuck with a sneer; he’d known what I was about to say.

“What about getting something to drink for the road?” I said.

Everyone relaxed–I got a tiny approving nod from my aunt–and my uncle pulled into a 7-11. Even though it was turning chilly, we got various drinks and headed home. Just as we pulled onto the main road, Larry opened his can of Coke and it sprayed all over me. I’d noticed him quietly shaking it, and I know he’d planned the whole thing, but everyone began shouting at once. My aunt calmly reached over, took the can, and dropped it into a plastic bag. Larry had pointed the can at me so nothing had hit him; I was soaked, my shirt almost dripping. We pulled over to the shoulder and I got out–now my uncle was yelling at me not to drip–and they began cleaning up the spill with some old towels. I peeled my shirt off and Cindy handed me a face cloth to dry myself; it was the only clean towel in the car. Finally we started off again, me shirtless.

After a half an hour, I was cold. I’d been feeling like a cold was coming on, but either the heater was broken or my uncle just wouldn’t use it, and I stayed cold.

“Daddy, Stuart’s cold,” Cindy said.

“He should be a man. This isn’t anything compared to what we’re gonna have on the camping trip; this’ll just get him ready, toughen him up,” said my uncle. I noticed that he didn’t talk directly to me.

“Jack, he’s shivering,” my aunt said.

“Oh, hell. Tell him to put something on, then.” It became obvious there weren’t any coats, so I continued to huddle in my misery.

“I’ve got a sweater,” Cindy said, coming to my rescue. “Only maybe ...”

“For God’s sake, give it to him. Case closed,” said my uncle. It was one of his favorite expressions when he didn’t want to deal with anything.

Cindy reached in one of the shopping bags and pulled out a yellow sweater, with the tags still on. She was a little embarrassed. “It’s new ...” her voice trailed off.

“That’s okay, Cindy. Thanks, but I don’t want to ruin it. I’m still kind of sticky,” I said.

“Sticky is better than you freezing. If you don’t mind wearing it ...maybe you can wrap it around you.”

I thanked her and took the sweater. I saw Larry staring at me intently. The hell with it, I thought, and pulled the sweater over my head. It had long sleeves and was kind of short; the kind that would expose the midriff. I pulled my hair out of the neck hole and caught Larry’s eyes. Something came over me, and defiantly I stared right back at him as I brazenly fluffed my hair.

“Dad, dad, you gotta see this,” cried Larry, pointing to me.

“What the hell?” my uncle said, and checked me out in the rear view mirror. I don’t know what he could see in the twilight, but it was enough. “Well, isn’t she lovely?”

Chuck said, “Who?” and turned around. His face went odd when he saw me; I glared back at him like I had at Larry. It was only a sweater, for God’s sake. Still, it was too much for Chuck. “Looks like Susie’s finally come out!”

He and my uncle laughed, and Larry joined in. My stomach churned coldly with shame and fury; I could tell that it had been no mistake I’d heard in the store–they’d already started calling me ‘she’ and obviously had already named me Susie.

My uncle began to sing, joined in by Chuck and then Larry. “If you knew Susie, like I know Susie oh–oh–oh what a gal!” Chuck pointed at me at each ‘oh’ and they dissolved in laughter.

My aunt forcefully said, “That’s enough. Now!”

“Ah, honey, we’re just having a little fun. I mean, look at her. No, I mean him. No, I mean her. No, I mean–” my uncle began laughing again. He was having way too much fun.

“Now,” my aunt said quietly but with amazing force. It had the desired effect; they stifled themselves. A few minutes later, inevitably, they burst out again with an impromptu chorus of the Stevie Wonder song ‘Isn’t She Lovely’.

“Jack!” my aunt said warningly.

“Come on, Marge, you should be happy; it looks like you got another daughter!”

“That’s okay, Aunt Margaret,” I said before she could answer. I knew what I was going to say would forever change things. I didn’t know how, but I just didn’t care. “That’s alright. They’re just frightened about being evenly matched, three against three.”

It couldn’t have had a more immediate impact if I’d thrown a light switch. Everyone shut up instantly and froze in place. That was it. The lines were drawn. I’d firmly placed myself on the side of my aunt and Cindy, and I was no longer a member of the boy’s club. My aunt gave me the strangest look, a combination of surprise, caution …and approval? She made a silent ‘shh’ with her lips, and we rode on home in silence. As we entered the cabin, we all went to our various rooms. I undressed and got into bed. I was still mad, and feeling shaky, and probably coming down with something. Either way, I was dreading the morning.

Chapter 3: The Morning Without Men

I woke up to silence. It was odd; with Chuck and Larry around, things were never silent. I crawled out of bed and realized that I did have a cold or flu–I felt wretched. Maybe I should go down and apologize, I thought; get it out of the way.

I had been sleeping in boxers and a t-shirt; I started shivering before I reached the door so I pulled on a robe, picked up the yellow sweater that I’d folded the night before, and walked downstairs. I found Aunt Margaret in the kitchen, planning some meals, judging by the cookbooks and notepad. She looked up.

“Good morning, dear,” she said brightly.

“Morning. I brought down the sweater to be cleaned. Or maybe we can return it ...”

“Ah, yes, the famous yellow sweater that did so much. Maybe we’ll just wash it and you can keep it.”

What she said didn’t quite register; I looked around. “Where is everybody?”

“Oh, gone. Long gone. Do you want breakfast?” She seemed completely relaxed.

“What do you mean ‘gone’? What about the hunting trip?”

“What about it? You didn’t really want to go, did you?” I shook my head slowly. She smiled. “I didn’t think so. And believe me, after yesterday, you’re better off not being alone with them. Honey, you should get a good look at yourself. You’re not well, are you?”

“No, I think I’ve got a flu thing. I feel crummy. But I also feel crummy about yesterday–”

“Why? Because you stood up for yourself? Because you put some macho bozos in their place? Or because you allied yourself with Cindy and me?”

This speech blew me away. Macho bozos? She said it so matter-of-factly, but I could tell she thought it was for the best. I didn’t know what to say, so I said something else.

“Where’s Cindy?”

“She was reading out on the dock, last I saw. She didn’t want to wake you, so she thought she’d catch up on the newest Stephen King. You’re really looking pale, honey, do you want to sit down?”

I nodded and sat dumbly at the table. She got some orange juice and some medicine, handed the pills to me, and sat down again. Slowly I realized she’d never called me ‘honey’ or ‘dear’ before, and the whole way she was relating to me was like–well, it was like she acted with Cindy. Maybe we really had turned a corner of some sort yesterday; I found that I didn’t mind it a bit.

“What they did was unforgivable. I’m sorry I didn’t put a stop to it before, but I never dreamed they’d go that far. You must have been so angry!”

I nodded. “And humiliated. Yeah. But you know what? They were right.”

“About what?” she leaned toward me.

“About ...being more comfortable being ...like a girl.” It was really hard to say it, and I was amazed that I’d blurted it out.

“Being like a girl ...or being a girl?” she asked gently.

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it before. I mean, unless this is a magic sweater ...” I reached out to touch it and we both laughed. “Aunt Margaret, I don’t know what I mean. But I do know I feel crummy.”

“Well, we’ll just call that the flu and not because of yesterday. We’ll call yesterday a blow for freedom, maybe, for all of us. I’m just sorry they were calling you names–”

“What, ‘Susie’?”

“Yes. That must have been horrible for you.”

I smiled ruefully. “I don’t know. I always kind of liked the name Susan. There are worse names; Harriet maybe.”

She laughed. “Or Blanche!”

“Or Hortense!”

“Or Margaret!” She doubled over laughing at her own name.

“No! Margaret’s a great name! And you could be Marge, or Margie, or Maggie–”

“Thank you, honey. Well, if you’d been born a girl, you would have been Susan.”

“You’re making that up!”

“No, I was there at your birth, remember? Your dad and mom were going to name you Susan if you were a girl. Jack knew that, so that’s why he started calling you ‘Susie’ behind your back. I should have stopped it; I’m sorry.”

I stared at her, stunned with this revelation of my own history. I shook my head. “Please don’t beat yourself up about it. You know, some things are getting clearer ...Uh, is it okay if I go back to bed? I hate to waste a great day, but I feel–”

“I know–‘crummy’. Of course, dear. But change those shorts and shirt; you’ve sweated them out. You must have had a fever in the night.”

She rose and accompanied me upstairs. I really was woozy and didn’t really want to change. I had nothing clean to wear, so my aunt handed me an oversized t-shirt and said I could use that. I took off the sweaty clothes and pulled the shirt over my head while she discreetly turned her back, then flopped down and was asleep before she even left the room.

Chapter 4: Wake Up, Little Susie

I woke up in the early afternoon, feeling a lot better than I had. Through the small window I could see the blue sky and feel a cool breeze. I got out of bed, momentarily surprised to find myself in the sleep shirt; then I remembered. The way the shirt fell down around my knees reminded me of a dress. I looked down at my legs and wondered what it would be like to wear a dress or skirt. As I walked, I could feel the hem of the sleep shirt against my legs, imagining it to be a skirt, and tried taking smaller steps. I walked downstairs to the bathroom, which was next to the laundry room off the kitchen. I couldn’t see or hear anybody, but the radio was still playing soft, cool jazz, perfectly matching the breeze.

I stepped into the shower and washed. Strange new thoughts went through my mind as I soaped myself; I thought about the body I was washing, and wondered how I would feel–how I would feel–if the body was female. I found to my surprise that it didn’t bother me; if anything, it made me feel more comfortable. I gently rubbed the soap on my chest and around my nipples, and the nipples responded by getting a little hard and slightly pointy. Suddenly I wished I had breasts. I had never, ever had such a thought before, but I thought, ‘If I had breasts, then I wouldn’t be a boy, would I? So my uncle and the guys wouldn’t expect me to be a boy, right?’ Then I soaped down my tummy and between my legs, and I thought, ‘Oh, yeah, except for that thing. Even more than not having breasts, that thing keeps me from being a girl.’ I had never thought about my penis before like this, but I knew immediately and without any hesitation that I wanted it off of me. I wanted it gone. It symbolized all the obnoxious macho posturing of my cousins. Maybe the emptiness of my life, too. But if it were gone, then I’d be like Cindy and Aunt Margaret, and that didn’t seem so bad at all ...

After washing my hair twice, I rinsed and stepped out. I toweled off and used the hair dryer over all of my body as well as my hair. I felt really fresh and clean and new. Then I realized I hadn’t brought any clothes with me to the bathroom, and I had nothing to change in. Some spray had accidentally hit the sleep shirt, so it was wet. I opened the door to see if I could grab something from the laundry room, and my aunt came in with a basket of laundry.

“Oh! Hi, I thought you were still sleeping. How are you feeling?” she asked cheerfully as she put down the basket.

“Much better, thanks. Uh, Aunt Margaret, I forgot to bring down any clothes to change into.”

“Oh dear; I thought you were still sleeping so I grabbed all your things to wash. And we’re mostly line drying, so it’ll be awhile. I just finished folding a load of Cindy’s ...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the basket and we both thought the same thing.

“Well ...is there anything there I could wear? I mean, if it’s alright with you? I mean, with Cindy?” I was starting to stammer.

She smiled warmly; I could tell she knew exactly what I meant. “Let me see,” she said as she removed stacks from the basket. “Yes, there are some shorts and tops and other things here. I’m sure it’ll be fine with her. Why don’t you take your pick? I’ll go tell her I okayed it. Then when you’re dressed, come out to the deck; I made some lemonade. You’ll need to replenish your liquids after that fever.” She filled the basket with my wet clothes from the washer and headed out to the clothesline.

I stared at the stacks of Cindy’s clothes. I knew I could try to find the most male or unisex clothing there, like jeans and a white t-shirt, but I realized that Aunt Margaret had given me a sort of test–gently and kindly, but a test nevertheless. And the weird thing was, I wouldn’t know if I passed the test until much, much later. I settled on a pair of bright green shorts and a green-and-white striped short-sleeve top. When I put it on, I found that it had a scooped neck–I think they call it a boat-neck–that showed more of my shoulders than I’d ever worn before, but it was kind of nice. The short sleeves were shorter than a boy’s shirt; I think they were called ‘cap’ sleeves. I didn’t have any muscles, and I thought my arms looked nice in the shorter sleeves.

I realized that I needed underwear, and of course there were no boys’ underclothes in the stacks. I remembered that my aunt had said ‘shorts and tops and other things’, and realized that I knew what the ‘other things’ were, and so I picked up some yellow bikini panties and put them on. They felt very cool and soft and very pleasant except for the front, of course. My penis was a problem, so I tucked it back between my legs. It wasn’t very big, anyway, and my balls weren’t very big, but they popped out a little from between my legs, so I got an idea. I sat down on the toilet seat and spread my legs, and relaxed as much as I could. In a few minutes of deep breathing and gentle probing, I found I could push my balls back into my body. I’d read about this in an article on sumo wrestling, and was amazed at how easily it worked! Then I tucked my little penis back and pulled on the panties. They fit snugly and held me in place. Looking down at the smoothness between my legs, I got a sudden thrill, like some kind of psychic ‘push’. I knew I was on the right track.

I pulled the shorts on and I had to admit that my legs looked great, and that surprised me. Since I didn’t look like the other boys my age, I never really spent time looking at myself in mirrors or even considered my body objectively. Now I looked in the mirror and saw that my hair was clean but all fly-away–I hadn’t put on any conditioner. I brushed and brushed, but I guess there was some static, because it never lay down. It was just to my shoulders now, and pretty thick. I noticed that on a peg by the mirror were a several headbands and those ‘scrunchie’ things girls used for ponytails. So I brushed all my hair back, gathered it, and got a white scrunchie around the ponytail. Looking in the mirror, I saw that I’d put it on kind of low, so it looked like a guy’s ponytail, although I’d never pulled my hair back before. I pulled the scrunchie off and brushed it all back again, then pulled the hair up high to the back of my head and put on the scrunchie. As I reached my arms up and back, I was a little stunned by how girlish I looked in the mirror. I turned my head to the left and right, watching the ponytail swing. I liked it a lot.

Although we were usually barefoot at the lake, we always had a standing rule that shoes be worn around the yard. I had no shoes nearby, but near the door of the laundry room I noticed a pair of plastic Nike slip-on sandals. I don’t know who they belonged to, but what the heck–I slipped them on. I walked out onto the deck; Cindy sat reading, her feet up on one of the deck chairs, soft jazz coming from a small boom box next to her. Her mother was leaning over filling Cindy’s glass with pink lemonade when she saw me. She actually splashed some on Cindy’s hand because she was staring so hard at me.

“Cindy ...uh, Cin, we have company,” Aunt Margaret said with a smile.

Cindy started turning as she said, “Who?” Then she saw me; I swear that her mouth stayed open, then she mouthed the word “whoa”. I suddenly got nervous and I don’t know why, but I did a pirouette.

“Yep. ‘S me.” I stood still.

My aunt pulled out another deck chair and pointed to it. I saw she already had an empty glass for me, which she started filling.

“Come on, honey, the lemonade’s just right.”

I don’t know why I was doing the things I was doing, but without any hesitation I sat and crossed my legs at the ankles, knees together. I thanked her as I took the glass. The pink lemonade was delicious; part of my mind said, ‘Of course it has to be pink, for girls.’

Cindy still stared at me, then a big grin spread from ear to ear and she said with an atrocious cowboy accent, “Hey there, little lady–new in town? Why don’t you set yoreself down and sit a spell?”

We all laughed at her line, then awkwardly grew silent as we thought about the ‘little lady’ part. I realized that I didn’t mind a bit, and decided to play along.

“Thanks for the borry of your clothes, missy!” I said, my accent as bad and broad as hers.

We all laughed again at this, then in her normal voice Cindy said, “Anytime, cuz.” That quieted us some more.

My aunt looked out at the lake. “You know, we’re going to have ten lovely, quiet days with the men gone. We can swim when we want to, go shopping when we want to, watch our shows and listen to our music and read our books and sleep as late as we want to. Now, that’s heaven!” Cindy and I agreed, and she went on, looking at me now. “I hope you’ll want to share that with us; just ...just us girls. ”

It was apparent that she was inviting me to be a girl the whole time, but she didn’t know what to call me. Without thinking, I came up with the answer.

“I’d be pleased and honored to be ...one of the girls, Aunt Margaret. And that would make me your niece, Susan. Right?” I looked at her anxiously; I realized I was holding my breath waiting for her response. Suddenly, so much future depended on her answer.

She was thinking, and unconsciously bit her lower lip. Then she smiled. “And I’d be honored to welcome you to the family, Susan. Or Sue. Or Susie!”

“That goes for me, too, Mom,” Cindy said as she reached her glass over to clink a toast. Cindy said clearly and slowly, “If you knew Susie, like I know Susie, oh–” we clinked our glasses, “oh–” clink, “oh, what a girl!”

We all drank, looking eye to eye, and that settled that.

End of Part 1