Just before turning out the light and getting in bed, I looked in the mirror on the small dresser. Looking back at me was a happy–but tired–pretty girl.

The Cabin - Part 3

Chapter 8: Getting Ready To Ride

Cindy shook me awake the next morning.

“Come on, sleepyhead. You’re going to miss summer!”

I was groggy because we’d gone to bed so late after the phone call with my parents; for a moment I wasn’t sure where I was. I slipped my legs out of bed and suddenly remembered: I have a nightgown on. Oh, right, and my parents approved! Suddenly I felt awake and a lot better than I would have imagined.

“Mom said you guys were up late, and to let you sleep to 10. It’s 10:01, so let’s go! It’s really great out already, so get washed, grab a bite, and let’s ride bikes around the lake!”

She bounced off the bed; I had to chuckle because she was still in her nightie, too. I grabbed the robe and padded downstairs to the bathroom, stripped, peed, and took a shower. After washing my hair and applying conditioner, I noticed a pink razor on the shelf. Even though I had almost no hair at all on my legs, and none under my arms, I didn’t even stop to question what I was doing; I turned off the water, stepped onto the bath mat and leaned across to the medicine chest and found a pack of disposables. I took one, got back in the shower and turned the water on. Then I soaped up under my arms and all over my legs, and stroke by stroke, I shaved my underarms and legs. The whole time I was careful to keep my penis between my legs; if I had my way it wouldn’t ever see the light of day again! Still, I had to soap myself down there, but before I did, I admired my ‘mound’ and wished it were real. As I soaped my chest, I cupped my nipples and wished that breasts would form. As I soaped my hair, I wished that it was cut in an attractive, feminine and girlish style.

I had it bad!

I stepped out and dried off, then used the hair dryer on my hair and all over me, carefully tucking myself back in when dry. My now-hairless legs felt fantastic! I used some talc with a lovely scent, and began brushing my hair. Putting down the brush, I picked up my hair and tried different styles, and wished yet again: this time, I wished that I was a normal girl going to the hair salon and having my hair and nails done.

Boy, did I have it bad!

Pulling my robe around me, I headed back upstairs. I really did have to start bringing clothes down with me! Someone had laid out fresh panties and bra in a wine-dark color. The panties slipped on easily and then I almost trembled when I picked up the bra. It was obviously a ‘first bra’, almost more like the top half of a tank top, but it was a bra and I was going to wear it! There was no clasp to deal with; I pulled it over my hair and then pulled my hair out from under it, and tugged it into place. It felt snug and secure and there was this sudden rush of desperate wanting. I wanted my breasts to develop. I absolutely wanted them! I wanted to look down at my mounds, I wanted to see the round tops of my breasts peeking out of tops, I wanted breasts. Mine. I sighed.

Finally I pulled on the dark blue shorts and a sleeveless blue-green plaid shirt that tied at the waist, I discovered. Walking barefoot, I headed down to get something to eat. Cindy was at the table working on a cantaloupe. She was wearing a yellow halter top and khaki shorts. She said my aunt was next door; didn’t that woman ever sleep? At first I was thinking about the typical bacon and eggs, but then thought I should follow Cindy’s example–after all, a girl’s got to watch her figure! I got a piece of melon and found a yogurt to go with it. I was careful to take small scoops and small bites. So that was my simple and healthy breakfast.

I told Cindy about the conversation with my parents, and she was overjoyed with the prospect of a girl cousin. We’d never really had much to say to each other before, but I was finding out that she was an intelligent, funny, and lively girl, and I liked her a lot. I thought that between Cindy and my aunt, I couldn’t find two better role models. I loved being with them, but not so much the men in their family ...

My aunt had told Cindy some of the news as well, and said that because the men were returning and we didn’t know how things would turn out, we couldn’t do anything feminine that was permanent, like piercing my ears, but that day would come. In the meantime, Cindy said that before we went on our ride we could certainly take the time to do my nails. I chuckled inside; I’d had the salon fantasy in the shower, and now minutes later she was going to do it!

We cleaned up and went to her room. I sat on the edge of the bed while she rooted around the jars and bottles on the vanity, before finding what she needed. She wrapped some cotton between my toes and then applied a dark burgundy polish to the first toe. Then she changed her mind, used the remover to strip the polish, got another bottle and started again, this time with a shimmery clear polish that looked almost like mother-of-pearl when it dried. It was subtle and at the same time caught the light, and left no doubt I had nail polish on. I loved it! She used some tools on my cuticles and nail ends, then applied the same polish to my hands. She had a plug-in gadget to stick my fingers in that dried the polish quickly, while my toes continued to dry. Then she commanded me to sit at the vanity, while still not touching anything.

Cindy fussed with my hair, grumbling that it really needed a good style and cut, then finally did a modified French braid. I thanked the stars that my hair was long and thick enough to pull off the style; I always had liked it and thought it very feminine. Then Cindy told me to close my eyes, and she applied a light makeup. I wondered if she was putting a heavy foundation on, but she said it was an SPF-30 sun block. I’d have to apply it to the rest of my body, but at least the face was done. She said ‘hold still’, and suddenly she plucked my eyebrows a little and I pulled back.

“Cindy, I thought you said we wouldn’t do anything permanent?”

“Relax, silly, just a few stray hairs. I’m not shaping them or anything; just getting some stragglers out of the way. Although you really do need shaping, Sue!”

“It’ll come, Cin. I think that’s something we’re all sure of, now–it’ll come!”

My nails were dry, so I applied the sun block to the rest of me. Cindy handed me what looked like lipstick but was a sun block lipgloss with a little shimmer to it as well. Then we spritzed some cologne she called Sunwater and headed downstairs. I actually skipped on the way down–I felt wonderful!

Chapter 9: The Bike Ride

There were a couple of mountain bikes stashed in the garage; we had to pump air in the tires and shoot some WD-40 (wearing gloves so our hands didn’t get dirty) before they were ready. For a moment I wished they were real girls’ bikes, without the horizontal bar, but mountain bikes were standard for everyone these days.

I followed Cindy out to the side of the lakeside road; I was a little wobbly at first, getting used to the bike, but got steady quickly. The only real problem was that my penis, tucked between my legs, was getting mashed on the seat. Actually, I kind of welcomed the mashing; if only I could grind it down to nothing! I knew, of course, that soon it would get sore, so I modified the way I was sitting and pedaling, with a little sway–and I think it probably wound up looking more girlish that way!

Cindy was in the lead and other than occasionally calling out over her shoulder, usually to show me a landmark, we pedaled in silence. There was one incident that made a big impression on me: a red convertible Volkswagen went past us, in the opposite direction, with three guys in it. They darn near got a whiplash watching us as we passed, and they tooted the horn and called out, “Hello, girls!” with a playful, Animaniacs-type of sound. They meant both of us, obviously, and although my rational mind tried to minimize the impact–thinking, ‘they probably meant her and didn’t get a good look at me’–my heart seemed to beat faster. I knew that they had thought I was a pretty girl, and that made me feel fantastic. Obviously, I was going to have to deal with boys a lot sooner than I’d told my mom.

We’d gone about halfway around the lake when we came to a public beach I vaguely remembered from past years. At the side of the parking lot was a diner called The Ice House, with a window on the side where you could get drinks, hot dogs, snow-cones, and snacks to eat outside. We leaned the bikes against a pillar and locked them, and went to the window.

Cindy was reaching into her shorts. “Come on, let’s get a snow-cone. My treat!” She pulled out some folded bills, and we went to the window to see a short old guy with a stained T-shirt.

“What’ll it be, ladies?” he said with a bored raspy voice. My heart skipped a beat again; we were up close and he saw me as a girl. Well, he’s bored and old and probably doesn’t care, I rationalized again.

Cindy said, “Cherry okay?” I nodded, and she made the purchase, handing my cone to me. We took that first icy, sweet mouthful and began walking to some benches in the sun, overlooking the beach.

“Did you see those guys?” she asked excitedly.

“Which guys? In the VW?”

“‘Which guys’ she says! Yes, silly, did you see them–or better yet, did you hear them?”

“I heard ...something.” I took another bite; I was unwilling to admit the truth about the encounter.

“Oh God, don’t get weird on me now! The guys, silly, the guys! This lake is going to jump this summer, and we’re finally old enough to jump right along with it! Oh man, did you see the driver?”

I had to stop her for a moment. “Cindy, do you think ...do you think I look okay?”

“Okay? You look great! What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think I look like a real girl?”

“Yes! Duh! Earth to Susie! Those guys sure did! Relax, you really do look great, you know. If I didn’t know you were my boy cousin–or used to be–I’d never know that you weren’t born a girl. And I really do mean this, Sue–don’t know how because Stuart was kind of a dweeb–but you’re actually pretty, and I think with a little work and some confidence, you could be a babe! So relax and enjoy it.” She took a bite and dribbled the juice down her chin, catching it with her hand and giggling.

I laughed, too. No, that’s not true–I giggled, too, just like I was her girlfriend. I also noticed with surprise that I was sitting with my legs crossed at the knees and my arm across my lap. I also noticed that I was eating my snow-cone exactly like Cindy, too; holding the cup in one hand and delicately holding the straw with the thumb and two straight fingers. It all felt so natural, and maybe I should just relax and enjoy the day, like Cindy said. We looked out over the beach; there were mostly families at this time. Later in the day and evening there would be an older crowd, getting increasingly older and bolder as darkness fell. It was an old summertime ritual, and I knew we’d be spending a lot of time here if Cindy had her way.

We finished the snow-cones and washed our sticky hands and faces at a drinking fountain, then debated whether to sit on the beach, ride further on, or ride back. The matter was settled when I suddenly noticed that Cindy’s bike seat had left a dirty brown stain on the bottom of her khaki shorts. I discreetly pointed it out, although she couldn’t really see it unless she had a mirror. We’d put air in the tires but forgot that the seats had gotten kind of moldy over the year of storage. I spun and she checked my butt, and I had the same stain although not as noticeable since my shorts were dark blue. We edged to one of the Ice House windows, and standing in the sun, she could see the reflection of her stained butt. Now we had no choice–we had to ride back home and change.

Chapter 10: Lunch

The ride home was quiet and hurried, and mercifully no cute guys in cars passed. That I’d even had that thought shocked me–cute guys? What was happening to me? I pedaled behind Cindy and thought about what might be happening. I’d never really thought about girls one way or another; I’d also never really thought about guys one way or another, either. The two sexes were part of the world that I felt distant from, and after all, I was only twelve–almost a teenager, but not really one, yet. Most of my childhood had been taken with books, TV, and movies, but not even those I pursued like a fan, except for the books. Why was I so cut off from everything?

Obviously, I was discovering things about myself this summer. The most amazing thing was discovering that I wanted to be a girl. I’d never really wanted anything before, that I could remember, and that in itself was odd. I also found it odd that I couldn’t remember more than a few years back. For instance, if someone had asked me what my sixth birthday was like, I couldn’t recall. That was coldly shocking. I cast back for my most distant memory. I had a flash of banging cooking pots together. I had a flash of a new family car my father bought; it was gray. I had a flash of one of the girls in school–kindergarten? First Grade?–being mean to me and me crying; something about eggs. And that was about it! Not very impressive after twelve years on earth.

Now, for the first time, I’d found something I wanted that made me feel alive. Maybe everything up to now was just dormancy, like a cocoon. Cool–did that mean I would turn into a beautiful butterfly? I certainly hoped so! All I knew for certain was that I felt completely natural acting like a girl. Maybe it wasn’t ‘acting’, but I felt fully alive and on full sensor alert, Captain, as they said on Star Trek. I decided then and there–pedaling along behind my cousin–that I would fully explore this discovery of girlhood, and try not to be ruled by my mind too much. My mind was telling me, ‘what you’re doing is wrong’. My mind was telling me, ‘everyone can see you’re a boy’. My mind was telling me, ‘don’t even think about boys’. And, in thinking that, my mind was telling me, ‘don’t be a queer!’ But my heart and soul was telling me, ‘you’re a pretty girl and you’re going to have a fantastic summer!’ So I would listen to my heart.

We reached our garage, stashed the bikes, and I followed Cindy into the house and into her room. She nearly tore the shorts off, she was so angry.

“Ruined my day and my shorts! I forgot about covering the damned seat, especially after a long winter! My bike at home has a seat cover and I just forgot!” She was wearing very tiny yellow bikini panties, and I was momentarily startled by our casual intimacy. But then, we were just a couple of girl cousins, right?

Cindy must have suddenly remembered otherwise, because she let out an ‘oh!’ and grabbed the shorts in front of her, then, she laughed loosely and threw the shorts at the hamper.

“Oh, man, I don’t believe I did that! Oh, geez, I’m sorry Sue! Wow, that was weird!” She collapsed on her bed, legs flung wide, and covered her face with her hands. The bed bounced with her laughter.

I was truly puzzled. “What’s so funny, Cindy?”

“Oh, geez,” she gasped, then took her hands away from her face, starting to calm but still shaking with laughter. “I pulled off the shorts without thinking, then I thought ‘omigod, he’s a boy’, and got all prudish. Then I thought, ‘what, are you stupid? She’s a girl! There are no boys here!’ and oh, Sue, I’m sorry, I’m sorry ...”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I let ...oh, society get the better of me. I know you’re a girl. I mean, I’m absolutely sure you’re a girl, now that I’ve spent more time with you. But society says ‘you’re my boy cousin’ and that’s just bullshit! I must have hurt your feelings there, but it all felt so ridiculous–” she started laughing again.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and thought for a moment before I spoke. “Cindy, when we were riding back, I had some time to think, and what I came up with was this: My mind–and what you called ‘society’–is saying, ‘you’re a boy, so act like one’. But my heart is saying ‘you’re a girl, so act like one’. I was having the exact same argument between my mind and my heart that you just had when you stripped in front of me.”

She got instantly serious, looked at me, and sat up. “Wow, that’s so cool! Like we’re on the same wavelength or something!”

“Like we’re cousins!” I grinned.

“Exactamundo! Look, I’ll do my best not to ever think of you as a boy if you do your best to do the same. I mean, don’t think you’re a boy. That make sense?”

I nodded. “And you’ll just have to bear with me for not knowing girl things. Like clothes and makeup and ...and boys.” I said shyly. “Sort of like I’ve been at some weird religious commune where they don’t let you do anything feminine.”

“And thee wishes to discover thy girlish self?” She started giggling.

“I dost! Dost–is that right? Anyway, is it a deal?”

“You bet! But I’ve got to admit, I’m still discovering some things myself. I mean, I’m only thirteen!”

“And you both are exploring where no man has gone before,” said my aunt from the doorway, startling us so much we jumped and gasped. I noticed that we’d both put our hands on our chest in the identical feminine response, and we laughed a little and stopped. We didn’t know how much my aunt had heard, or how she’d take it all. She walked in and sat on the other corner of the bed, and Cindy sat up fully.

“Cindy and ...Susan,” she said slowly, as if hesitant to say my name, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but inadvertently heard quite a bit of your conversation. I don’t really know what we’ve got here. I’ve got to ask a few questions of you, Susan. Isn’t this all really just a lot of fun for you? Some dress-up that you can take off, fold up and put away?”

“No, Aunt Margaret; I thought we already talked about that ...”

“Let me put it this way: Think about everything you can do as a boy and a man. Basically, anything you want. What can you do as a girl and woman–and I’m going to be brutal here–if this continues? You can’t possibly fully let yourself go in case somebody discovers your secret–your penis. If you have any relations with boys, it will be as a homosexual and will be illegal. If you decide to undergo counseling, hormone therapy, and sexual reassignment surgery–all lengthy, costly, and very, very painful–you will probably seem like a normal female to outward appearances. If the surgeon is very good, your genitalia will look female, and you’ll have some degree of sexual response–and I’m talking to you two like you’re grownups, now. Of course, you’ll never menstruate, which might be considered a plus, but you’ll never be able to give birth, which is a minus. Women with hysterectomies or past menopause can’t conceive either, but that doesn’t make them any less women. But you’ll always be wondering ‘is this all there is?’ because you’ll never be sure that you’re fully a woman.”

I looked her in the eyes. “Aunt Margaret, first of all, thank you for speaking to us like adults. Okay, I don’t really know what’s in store for me as a girl–but then I don’t know what’s in store as a boy, either. I might be a miserable, friendless guy because I don’t fit in anywhere. I might be gay, I don’t know. What I do know is that I would spend every moment of every day of my life wishing I was female. And as I grew hair on my body and got bigger and my voice changed and I got farther and farther away from any possibility of looking female, I would get sadder and angrier and more unhappy. Okay?”

She was startled. “Well, that’s a bit harsh, maybe, but I’ll go along with you that that is one possible future.”

“So here’s the alternative. I experiment. We experiment, I mean, this summer. I know this all just happened and would seem too early to make any decision, but I know. I’m already convinced my future should be female, but we need to explore everything. I don’t know how, but we deal with the guys when they come back. Somehow, God willing, I can continue to be Susan the rest of the summer. Then we have a really, really long talk with my parents this fall, and they and I take it from there. I’ve decided that I want and need counseling, hormones, surgery, the works–it’s not fantasy land, it’s correcting a mistake of nature, so I’m ready and willing and prepared for the pain. Because at least it’ll be my own pain, like ‘being alive’ pain! I think the reason I’ve drifted through my life so far is that I was cut off from who I really am, and who I am is Susan.”

I stopped, gasping a bit. My voice had risen towards the end and I was sorry about that but not sorry for what I’d said.

My aunt stared at me.

“Mom, can I say something?” Cindy asked shyly. Her mother nodded. “I know a lot of kids, boys and girls. I can tell the difference no matter what they’re wearing. I mean, in the dark. If you had a totally dark room, just talking to them one by one, I’d know who was a boy and who was a girl.” Pointing to me, she said, “That’s a girl sitting there. I’ve no doubt of it. It’s only what was between her legs when she was born that made society tell her she’s a boy, and that’s what’s been messing her up.”

“An interesting way of putting things, Cindy,” Aunt Margaret said. She stood up. “Well, lunch is ready.” Cindy pulled on some new shorts and we followed her mom downstairs, looking at each other and wondering how things stood.

There were sandwiches laid out, and glasses of juice. My aunt had a stack of today’s mail, and there were new Seventeen and J-14 magazines. Cindy grabbed the J-14 and handed me the other, and we looked through them as we ate. I’d never paid these magazines any attention before; in fact I thought it was kind of silly that there were so many at the newsstands, but I looked at them with new eyes now.

The Seventeen had articles on everything from makeup (I hadn’t thought about it but would probably need to learn), to choosing clothes (needed it), to menstrual cramps (didn’t need it). Then I thought about that; although I would never experience menstruation or cramps, I better be familiar with the subject when I was talking with other girls. Other girls? Was I really thinking of myself that way already? I must be starting to, because I suddenly realized I was looking at a picture of a couple on a date, and I was thinking about what that dress would feel like, and what it would be like to have a boy’s arm around me ...

Very, very strange. I didn’t know if this made me gay, or what; maybe it would be straight–but only if I was a girl. I flipped through the magazine some more; I studied the ads and the clothes the girls were wearing.

“Cindy, how do you dress at school? I’ve only really seen you on summer vacation.”

Cindy swallowed her juice. “Well, I dress like ...well, no style with a name. Bummer! Now you’ve got me bummed that I don’t have a ‘Style’!”

I laughed. “No, that’s probably a good thing! Who wants to dress in a style that already has a name and looks like everybody else that dresses that way? ‘I’m preppy. I’m a Goth. I’m a nerd. I’m a jock.’ Whatever!”

“Whoa, Susie, you said that like you’ve been saying it at the mall for years! Better watch out, or you’ll be a Valley Girl.”

“Fer sure! Gag me! Whatever! Whew! I can’t keep it up,” and we both cracked up.

Cindy started flipping through her magazine again. “Why did you want to know my style?”

“Well, I guess I might have to find my style this fall. If I live that long!”

“If you live …? Oh, you mean the guys. Yeah; that’ll be rough. Hang in there, and you’ll–oh, here!” She spun her magazine around and showed me an article with several girlfriends running around a carnival. “See here?” She pointed out a girl with a short white T-shirt that exposed her midriff, and a denim skirt and platform sandals. “I’m like this a lot. And here,” she said, pointed to a blue slip-dress. “And–here.” This time pointing to a tight gray long sleeved top, scoop necked, with tightly flared burgundy pants.

“Cool. No, I mean it! Those are all very cool. A significant lack of dog collars and tattoos!”

Cindy leaned forward and stage-whispered so her mom would hear. “Don’t think I’m not planning on tattoos! A rose on my ankle, a spider on my butt, and a big sunflower around my belly button!”

We both cracked up and my aunt stuck her head in the kitchen and said, “Don’t forget to have them tattoo the hospital phone number so they’ll know where to take the body after your father kills you!”

“Oh, Mom!” Cindy said. “I’m just kidding; you know that.”

“I know, honey. Just talk it over with us before you do something permanent.”

I got quiet; Cindy asked me what was the matter. I said, “I’m just thinking about doing permanent things. I mean, I’m thinking about doing, uh, permanent things.”

My aunt looked at me sympathetically. “I know, honey, you want to jump all the way into girlhood. I can see that. But first things first. We have to see what your parents say after they’ve discussed it, and we have to deal with the boys’ return.”

The sandwich lost its taste and became a lump in my throat. I closed the magazine and stared at the table.

“Come on, lighten up! We’ve still got a couple of days before the testosterone cases get back!” Cindy laughed. We all chuckled at that. “We’re burnin’ daylight. It’s bikini time! Case closed.” We all burst out laughing at her impersonation of her father.

Chapter 11: Swimming

We cleaned the dishes and I followed Cindy upstairs to her room. She already had laid out the two-piece for me, and pulled her bottoms on. She was holding her bikini top out in front of her, trying to untangle the straps. I got my first full look at her chest–or rather, I should say her breasts. She’d developed enough so she had two swelling mounds, milky-white against the darker skin of her lightly tanned skin. Her nipples were a dark rose, and puckered slightly. I thought Cindy’s breasts were beautiful and I was immediately envious. I wanted breasts! I wanted that swelling on my chest, and even though I knew some girls complained they hurt while growing, I wanted that hurt! Maybe in time, I thought, if I’m a good girl ...

“Well get dressed, silly, don’t stand there gawking,” she said with a smile as she finally fastened her top. I was relieved that she wasn’t angry with my staring.

“I’m sorry, it was just ...I want to …”

“I think I know. You want to develop, too, don’t you?” I nodded, and she grinned. “I sure remember that feeling, seeing other girls at school develop before I did. Well, Sue, I have a hunch that your day will come. Really! In the meantime, there’s a big bright sun out there, and we need to get out in it. So get dressed! I’ll help.”

I removed the necklace and bracelet she’d given me, and stripped all the way, determined to be as unselfconscious as she was. Fortunately my penis still stayed where it was, and I pulled the bottoms up. I loved how snugly they held me. Then I picked up the top and had to do the same sort of untangling that Cindy had. Finally it made sense and I got it on; she stepped behind me and fastened the back. After pulling the top a little down and around, it felt comfortable. Alien and strange and wonderful, but comfortable. I decided to unbraid my hair, so I asked Cindy for a bit of help, then brushed it out. The whole time, I kept checking myself out in the mirror. It was hard to believe it was really me; all I saw was a cute girl. No great shakes in the chest department, of course, but a cute face.

As I brushed I turned slightly, raising up on one foot. I think I had a cute butt; maybe that was wishful thinking. It felt good to see the slight flash of light from the polish on my fingernails as I held the brush. As I turned a little more, I noticed the polish on my toes, and felt even better.

We headed downstairs; Cindy grabbed the magazines from the kitchen table; a couple of towels and sunglasses by the bathroom, and we padded outside in our sandals. My aunt called out not to swim before an hour was up–the old ‘cramps’ thing. We walked down the dock and spread our towels out on the boards, already hot from the sun. We lay down on our backs, took off our sunglasses, and started soaking up some rays.

“You know, Sue, you’ve got a pretty cool thing going,” Cindy said, eyes closed, face pointed skyward.

“What cool thing?”

“If you get to go all the way, I mean as a girl–no, I don’t mean ‘all the way’ with a boy–” she giggled. “Okay, I’ll try it again! If you get to be a girl all summer, and your parents let you go to school as a girl, then you can be anybody you want to be! I mean, think about it: I’m going to school with kids who’ve known me all my life, and they expect me to dress and act a certain way. I couldn’t go ‘Goth’ if I wanted to, because they’d laugh and know it wasn’t ‘the real me’. But you! You get to go to school–whether it’s your old one or a new one–and create a whole new Susan. They’ve never met you before, so you can be any style you want! That’s what’s cool!”

“I never thought about it. No, really; I mean, Cin, come on, it’s only been a couple of days. Yeah, I’m sure this is what I want to do, but it’s not like I’ve thought it all out. Right now I’m not thinking about anything except what my parents will decide, and really dreading the guys’ return at the end of the week. But you’re right; if I get to stay the way I want to be, I’m going to have to learn what kind of girl I am.”

Cindy began singing ‘What kind of girl am I’ to the tune of ‘What Kind of Fool Am I’ and we both cracked up.

“Well,” Cindy said finally, “at least we’ve got time–and the right magazines!–to figure it out.”

After that we got quiet and lay there, soaking up the hot sun. The next thing I knew, Cindy was shaking me.

“Wake up, Sue! You’re dozing off!”

I was hot and sweaty and groggy; I turned over and looked at her. She motioned with her head to the water. I nodded, rolled over and stiffly got up. I felt hot all over and prayed I hadn’t burned. She took two steps and leaped into the lake with a whoop. I took a breath and followed in next to her. The water was colder than I expected, but that was probably because my body was so hot. After the initial shock, and we bobbed to the surface, Cindy began swimming out to a nearby float. I followed her. My suit top felt strange, but after awhile I paid no attention to it. Cindy reached the float and pulled herself up on it, sleekly like a seal. I followed: I don’t think I was as sleek as her but I got up alright. I used both hands to press the water out of my hair, and felt like a pinup.

In fact, Cindy was primping like a pinup, pushing her hair up and posing, laughing. I matched her; I crossed my legs at the knee, threw my head back so my hair fell between my arms, and thrust my non-existent chest skyward. She egged me on. I pulled one arm up and pushed my hair up from beyond and gave her a pouty kiss. This time she cracked up.

“Oh God, you’re too good at this! Are you sure you were ever a boy?”

“A boy ...a boy ...Hmm. Don’t seem to remember!”

“Well, top this, girly girl!” Cindy stood up on the float and struck a pose with one hand on her knee and one on her hip, leaning forward.

“Okay, how’s this?” I countered, standing too, and put both knees together and to the side, pushing up the hair and kind of squatting, like an old photo of Marilyn Monroe. Cindy started laughing so much she lost her balance. As she tried to correct, the float started tipping. I reached out to help her, and we steadied each other, both a lot more serious now.

“Whoa! We almost went over!” I said as we slowly let go of each other, balancing carefully.

“Yeah; I don’t mind falling in the lake but I don’t want this thing on top of me–hey, there’s Mom.” I turned and looked to the shore. My aunt was waving us in. Cindy and I looked at each other, shrugged and dove in, swimming evenly back to the dock.

My aunt leaned down as we climbed out. “Water looks great! How’s the float?”

“Okay,” Cindy said. “A bit tipsy. Or we were!” She and I giggled slightly.

“The reason I came out is the sun. I mean, I didn’t think about it before you went out, but I realized that Susan shouldn’t tan in the suit, because it’ll leave marks that might be ...awkward when the boys return.”

“Too late, Mom. We put on sun block, but we fell asleep before the swim. And look at Susie.” She pointed to my chest; I looked down and couldn’t see anything. My aunt reached out and gently moved one of the top’s straps, and the expression on her face let me know.

“Did I burn?” I asked.

My aunt shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, but you’ve got the start of a definite tan line. Did you do your back?” We shook our head. “If you want to stay out here any longer, I think you ought to only lay on your tummies. Susan, well ...I guess you’ll have to wear shirts the whole time until it fades.”

“Or until it’s okay again, right, Aunt Margaret? You did say that’s a possibility?”

She nodded. “Yes, but we’ll see. Anyway, you can spend up to one hour more in the sun–but be sure to undo your straps so there are no lines. Then come on in, shower and get changed.”

“What for?” Cindy asked. “I mean, what’s the plan for later?”

“The Doyles next door have invited us to dinner, and it relieves me from having to cook anything.” She turned to me. “Of course, Susan, I’ve got to start teaching you some feminine skills like cooking and sewing. It might sound pre-feminist, but they’re things you need to know–and every boy and girl should know them, for that matter. But one more night without cooking is fine with me.”

“Actually, I look forward to learning. I don’t know about tonight, though; do I go as a boy or a girl? And if I’m Susan, won’t they talk to Uncle Jack and the boys?”

“You don’t know Monica Doyle, Susan! She’s not too crazy about Jack, or any man, after her divorce. Bonnie is nineteen or twenty now, and could care less about Chuck and Larry.”

“Have I met her daughter?” I asked.

“Daughters. And no, I don’t think so; I think Bonnie was somewhere else last summer, and Hannah was just three or four, I think.”

“Sixteen years’ age difference? Wow! Is there anyone else?”

“No; Monica, Bonnie, and Hannah. And no man, if Monica has anything to say about it.”

“Chuck might have something to say about Bonnie if he hasn’t seen her in two years,” Cindy said. “I always thought she was pretty. I’m curious to see what she looks like now.”

I thought for a moment. “Well, I guess that settles it. We can’t have any men over there tonight, can we?’

“Right, Sue! Well, you girls catch your last sun and come on in.” Aunt Margaret turned back to the cabin.

Just hearing her say ‘you girls’ gave me a warm glow. I felt like an idiot grin was spreading across my face, and looked at Cindy, who had a smirk.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“I thought so! Well, get used to it. It fits. Come on, Sue, I just thought of something I want to show you.”

We went back to lay down on our tummies and undid the straps of our tops. It was odd holding the top against my chest with one hand; I felt a strange sense of being on display, like the world shouldn’t see me with my top off. Maybe that was the beginning of feminine modesty? We lay down with the magazines spread open. Cindy showed me some more outfits, and I flipped through my magazine and showed her some that I liked–my new ‘style’ coming out, maybe. We kept chatting like that until it was time to go in–just a couple of normal teenaged girls. I wanted to explore that new sense of myself, but felt doomed by the return of the men. Oh well, I thought, enjoy it while you can because it may be over at any minute.

End of Part 3