Our State Fair, by Karin Bishop

Part 6

But things did not go smoothly at the midsummer dance. There was a pleasant time spent wandering around during the day; the town’s park was festive with balloons and streamers and activities, mostly for young children. Among the fire department’s display of their new truck and water cannon, the 4-H Petting Zoo, and the Boy Scouts’ climbing wall, clusters of girls and clusters of boys were passing, pausing, chatting, and moving on.

Terry walked with Melanie and Julie, meeting up with Carlie, Heather, and Claudia and then with Mary Ann, Sue and Diana, and then splitting off into other groups, reforming in combinations. At one point Terry saw Al with four other boys that he didn’t know the names of; they were three years older, after all. But Terry certainly knew the names of the boys that were his own age; even if he didn’t, the other girls talked about them nonstop.

Two girls wore sundresses, but for the most part the girls all wore variations of camisoles, tank tops, capris, shorts, and denim skirts. The chances were that every girl probably had something already in her closet that every other girl wore; it was a rather funny mix-and-match, but that was life in a small town. Terry wore a lime-green camisole with a raspberry bra and white shorts and sandals. He wore silver jewelry and plum nail polish, a gift from Melanie, whose tank was red and wore khaki shorts and flip-flops.

Then the girls disappeared from the park; they all went to their various homes to get ready for the dance. It was already arranged that Terry would have a sleepover at Melanie’s house. As always with teen girls, even though Mom had chosen a lovely blue dress for the dance, the girls raided Melanie’s closet. There was some more mix-and-match fun and a lot of giggles and finally they settled on their wardrobe, even after a week of discussing choices.

Melanie wore a rainbow-sequined tube top and impossibly tight shiny black pants, almost leggings, with black strappy heels. Terry teased that she looked like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease and Melanie grinned back and nodded.

“That’s the plan! I’ve heard boys talk about her. It’s like, what, forty years later or something, and they still get off on Sandy!” She handed Terry a silver-sparkly halter top. “And this is for you. No bra.”

“Uh …”

“No bra!” Melanie said, forcefully. Then she softened. “Babe, I know that look is not you, but this is a really important dance. This will be the dance where you show the boys–and any doubting girls–that you’re all girl!”

Terry said, “Why don’t I just go topless, then?”

Melanie pretended to consider it. “Hmm …possible …”

“You’re such a goof!” Terry laughed, playfully slapping his friend’s shoulder.

“No, you ah!” Melanie responded; it was their own private joke about Boston accents.

In the end, Terry reluctantly agreed to the halter top–as long as Melanie also provided a black lace shawl–and a black skirt, smoky stockings, and heels. Ever since that first mall visit when Mom had bought him three-and-a-half-inch heels, he had been practicing at home.

But he’d never danced in them.

Melanie’s big brother Dave raised an eyebrow when the girls came downstairs to go; he was driving them and just grinned at his sister. “Hook much?” he teased.

“Forget it, stud; you can’t afford us,” Melanie tossed back breathlessly, flipping her hair back.

Terry’s hair was back with a silver alligator clip but Melanie had styled it so one large wing of hair constantly flopped in front of his face. He had to flip it back with a finger, a move choreographed and described as ‘so sexy!’ by Melanie, whose hair was tumbling in russet curls.

The girls were not alone in their extreme dressing; Dave’s eyes nearly fell out of his head when he pulled up to the barn with the teen disco.

“Is that Claudia Jennings?” he gasped, looking at the girl in a tube top and miniskirt, her lipstick shiny crimson.

“Yep,” Melanie grinned.

“God, I remember when she was …” Dave cleared his throat. “Mom says I’m picking you up at eleven. Don’t make me wait.”

Melanie said, “Why not? You could look at Claudia some more!” She giggled and slid out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride, Dave,” Terry said as he got out.

“You’re welcome, Terry,” Dave grinned. “Nice to know my sister knows somebody with manners!”

“It’s not Claudia’s manners you’re looking at!” Melanie teased.

“Mel, cool it,” Terry laughed. “Give the guy a break.”

“You’re right,” Melanie said, contritely, but so Dave could hear. “I shouldn’t tease him about Claudia. It’s just a good thing he didn’t see Carlie!” She giggled and swirled away.

Terry grinned apologetically at Dave and followed his friend. Behind him, Dave sputtered, “Carlie Thompson? What about her?”

“See?” Melanie said when Terry caught up with her. “Boys only think about one thing.”

“Like we’re not?” Terry shot back, and they both giggled.

They entered, mingled, and of course found themselves in a large cluster of girls. Somebody had done their best to turn the barn into an urban-hip warehouse with decorations and lighting, with day-glo graffiti spray-painted on plywood sheets, but there was still the muted whiff of hay and manure. But the music was loud and fresh and kids were already dancing.

“Come on, you guys!” Carlie said, dragging Melanie and Heather and Terry onto the dance floor.

Terry had begun dancing, as a girl, at first alone at home with Mom’s urging, and then with Melanie, bouncing around her bedroom with CDs blasting. This was the first public dancing he’d done but it didn’t matter; they were all having fun so quickly that he forgot to be self-conscious. For one thing, he could relax about being braless. Heather wore a white halter top; her rather large breasts threatened to flop out the sides, and her white spandex pants were so tight that ‘you could read the date off a quarter’, as Al had once remarked. Carlie was dazzling; her jet-black straight hair had some blue in it and almost seemed to glow. She wore a black lace top with one shoulder bare; she’d applied something to her skin so it shimmered in the lights. Carlie’s pants were remarkable; they were camouflaged capris, basically, very tight, but cut so low that a black thong was visible–the ‘whale’s tail’ that Al had also spoken of once.

I can’t believe how much weird stuff boys come up with about us, Terry thought.

Carlie also wore black strappy heels as did Melanie and Terry. Got to find out what that shimmery stuff is, Terry thought, realizing for the first time that he coveted another girl’s makeup.

Finally, boys stopped drooling and got brave enough to ask the girls to dance, one-by-one. Terry found himself nodding yes to a boy whose name he didn’t know; he thought it was Sam. Now there was a swirling mass of Terry and his three girlfriends and four boys dancing, joined by still others.

They took a break, thanked the boys–Heather with a hug–and headed to the girls’ area of the barn, fanning themselves and laughing. There was a large punch bowl with a stern adult policing it; the girls scooped up punch and then stood, talking about boys, about what other girls were wearing, and about boys.

A slow song started.

“Here it comes,” Carlie said.

“What?” Terry asked.

Heather said, “Here’s where we find out who’s serious.”

Melanie explained, “Fast dances don’t mean anything. It’s when the guy has to walk up and ask the girl to slow dance, that’s the serious part.”

The boy Heather had danced with and hugged walked right up to her; she grinned and went to the dance floor with him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Geez, Heather,” Carlie snickered. “Shove ‘em right in his face, why don’t ya?”

Melanie and Terry, joined by Julie, giggled.

“What about Chuck?” Terry asked. “I thought they were, like, forever.”

“Forever until one of them is out of town,” Julie shrugged, without any spite.

Melanie said, “Maybe it’s how they’ve lasted so long.”

“Maybe it’s just whoever’s convenient,” Carlie said. “Oh! I didn’t mean–”

“Naw, you’re right, probably,” Melanie said.

Terry asked, “So she’s tight with Chuck, but like this is okay?” He watched Heather and the boy dance. “And Chuck’s like this with other girls?”

“From what I’ve heard,” Carlie nodded.

Julie shrugged. “Not what I’d do, or want my fella to do, but seems to work for them.”

Terry was learning so much, and the ever-fluid relations of girls was still so new to him. I’ve got to have a long talk with Al about this when I get home, he thought. Even though he didn’t participate, he grew up in a girl’s world.

A good-looking tall boy broke from the pack of boys and headed towards them.

Melanie nudged Terry. “Showtime,” she said softly.

“Huh?”

“Derek Sommersby? Remember?”

Terry nodded, his eyes down, his breathing tight.

“What about Derek?” Julie asked.

“Jules, he’s cool, right?” Melanie asked quickly.

“Well, yeah. He was in my English class. Pretty smart, too. Why?”

“Because Tere is crushing on him and it looks like he feels the same way, too.”

“Mel!” Terry whispered fiercely.

“Go, girl!” Julie whispered just as the boy reached them.

He smiled at the three of them but looked at Terry. “Um …Teresa? Would you like to dance?”

Without thinking about how nervous he was, almost floating on autopilot at the sight of Derek’s smile, Terry smiled back. “I would love to, Derek.”

They went on the floor and Derek assumed the classic position; Terry grasped Derek’s outstretched hand and put his other hand on Derek’s shoulder and felt Derek’s hand slide around his back. They began a rather formal, stiff box-step. Terry glanced around at the other couples; some were in similar positions and some were closer. Derek was looking somewhere near the top of her head.

“Derek? It’s okay to look at me,” Terry said, wondering why Derek had asked him to dance when he was so formal with him and not even looking at him.

“I’m sorry, I …” Derek frowned. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but …it’s the way my mom taught me.”

Feeling relief that it wasn’t because Derek was creeped out by him, Terry smiled. “It’s okay; Daddy taught me this way, too.”

It was true; Mom had insisted on it as soon as Terry announced that his girlfriends wanted him to go to the midsummer dance. It had been awkward at first for Dad, but he’d relaxed and when the lesson was over, Mom knew that another barrier had fallen between father and new-daughter.

Just then the DJ said, “Everybody’s having such a great time, and that song was kinda short, so here’s another for y’all, an Eighties classic.” The familiar sound of Foreigner’s Waiting For A Girl Like You filled the barn.

Terry made a decision, or maybe not a decision so much as allowed the next level to happen naturally.

Because of the music volume, he leaned up to Derek. “Well, this is the way our parents taught us, but maybe we should try something ourselves, huh?”

He slipped his hand out of Derek’s and moved both hands to clasp around Derek’s neck. Derek’s hands moved to Terry’s waist. They could each feel the other relax and they smiled at each other as they moved in sync. Terry put a little extra sway in his hips; it wasn’t to tease as much as it was pleasurable to feel the music and to feel Derek holding him. He sighed with happiness. The moment was perfect.

“I really like dancing with you, Teresa,” Derek said.

“I like dancing with you, Derek,” Terry smiled. “You can call me Terry if you want. Or Teresa.” He stretched his shoulders happily and realized it was thrusting his breasts up. Embarrassed slightly, he leaned his head against Derek’s chest. “Thank you for asking me to dance,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for saying yes!”

Terry chuckled and pulled back to look at Derek’s smile and happily smiled back at him.

The moment was perfect–too perfect.

And then some guy shouted from the pack of boys.

“Always knew you were a faggot, Sommersby!”

Derek stiffened, as did many other couples.

Terry did, as well, but quickly said, “You’re not, Derek. He’s just looking for trouble. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Derek looked at Terry sadly. “Yeah, I do. God, I’m sorry, Terry.” He broke the hold and escorted Terry back to his girlfriends.

“Derek, you don’t have to do this,” Terry pleaded, as Melanie and Julie put their arms around him.

“Yeah, I do,” Derek said, looking brave but trapped. “And he insulted you. That can’t stand.”

Terry stared as Derek turned and walked to the pack of boys.

Melanie whispered, “Omigod, he’s really into you, Terry!”

“Did he say, ‘That can’t stand?’ What a guy!” Julie said. “Keeper, girlfriend!”

“But he’s gonna fight!” Terry said desperately. “He’s gonna get hurt, and it’s all because of me!”

“You were right, Mel,” Julie said, as Melanie nodded.

“Right about what?” Terry asked.

Melanie stalled, but Julie said gently, “Melanie said she could tell it was real between you and Derek.”

Terry felt a flood of warmth at the same time as he felt a chill of fear.

Although Terence had never really participated in the world of boys, he had observed it and was aware of its codes and conduct, just as Alice was aware of the girls’ world around her. Terry could almost choreograph what was about to happen, and wondered: If he could, why couldn’t the chaperones? He looked around and the punchbowl policeman was still there but no others seemed to be around.

The pack of boys filtered to both sides, leaving the loudmouth and two friends in the middle. Terry could see Derek walk up to him and they spoke; the music was still going but the DJ, at least, had the good sense to end the slow song abruptly and slam into a popular rock number. Some of the kids watching the confrontation started dancing instead, but a sizeable number were still fascinated, waiting for fists to fly.

“I’m going over there,” Terry said.

“Teresa! No!” Melanie cried, grabbing Terry’s hand.

“This is what they do,” Julie shrugged. “The usual fight.”

“This is my fault and it’s not like the usual fight because I’m not like the usual girl.” He looked at Melanie. “Please, Mel?”

Reluctantly, Mel nodded and let go. “I love you, Terry. Be careful?” she pleaded.

Terry smiled weakly at her and then began walking to the confrontation. People parted in front of him like he was Moses or something. I wonder if I should swagger like a boy or sway like a girl? he thought, and realized it was too late; he had a natural girlish grace and couldn’t change his stride now.

As he came up, he heard Derek saying, “–just apologize to her and we’ll …” Derek broke off, seeing the guys look past him at Terry. He turned and seemed about to say something.

Terry didn’t recognize the boys and didn’t know who the loudmouth was but looked at the most likely guy and said, “Was it you that called Derek a faggot?”

It was so direct that it startled everyone. They’d probably been sure Terry would say something like ‘Don’t hurt him!’ but never expected the confrontational start.

The guy looked at Terry up and down, leering almost, then at Derek, and then back to her. “Yeah, it was me.”

“Well, you were mistaken,” Terry said calmly. “And you should apologize.”

The first sentence threw them but the second revved up the loudmouth.

“Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.” He crossed his arms theatrically. His buddies tried to look tough.

Terry said, “This is actually fairly simple. If Derek was a faggot, it would be because he was dancing with a boy. Am I a boy?”

Suddenly Melanie’s wisdom about going braless paid off. All three boys’ eyes–and many others’–flew right to Terry’s quite-obvious breasts. They rose and fell as he breathed, and his nipples were just a bit visible. It had the effect of seriously weakening the guy’s argument, but he rallied.

“We all know what you are,” he sneered.

“What am I?” Terry asked, putting his hands on his hips, one high heel thrust forward.

Derek said, “Teresa, you don’t have to–”

“Derek? I do,” Terry said sadly, echoing Derek’s words. He gave Derek a quick smile to show he was okay. To the group of boys, he said, “After all, it seems to be an important question to some of the boys here.”

“You’re a dude looks like a lady,” the loudmouth sang in a rotten attempt at sounding like Aerosmith.

“Nope. Not a dude,” Terry said calmly.

“Yeah, you are. Everybody knows it!”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘everybody’ you’re talking about, but everybody I know knows I’m a girl.” He paused just enough to let the guy start to say something but spoke over him, “But let’s just say for the sake of argument that I am a boy. Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Okay. Then …fight me.”

“What?” The guy’s mouth was actually open.

“Teresa!” Derek gasped.

Terry stayed focused on the loudmouth. “Come on. You obviously like to fight …boys, I guess. So you think I’m a boy–you’re wrong, but you think it–so come on. Fight me.”

The boy had not expected this. He glanced around at the guys and without thinking, sneered, “I’m not fighting a faggot!”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Terry said quickly.

“No! It’s not …it’s like fighting a chick!”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Terry said again, just as fast.

“No! It’s …” The guy shook his head. “I don’t fight chicks or faggots.”

“But you didn’t call me a faggot. You said it to Derek. Who is, by the way, taller and stronger than you. That might be why you’re not fighting. But you never called me a faggot. You called me a dude. Are you saying you don’t fight dudes?” Terry tilted his head. “Tell me; who do you fight? Or do you just shout crap from far away in a corner?”

Terry could feel the temperature of the boys around them change. There was this …distancing from the loudmouth. Even his two buddies looked like they wished they were elsewhere.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” the loudmouth said stubbornly.

“Because I’m a chick?”

“Yeah–no!” he responded, caught off guard. “You’re a faggot dude.”

“Well, I think we all can see how you really feel about ‘faggot dudes’ by what’s been growing in your pants,” Terry said, pointing with his polished nail, as every boy gasped and stared immediately at the erection in the loudmouth’s pants. Terry had noticed it starting when he’d walked up and thrust his high-heeled sandal forward.

Terry pressed forward. He hated the things he was going to say but knew the dynamics of the boys required it. He waved a finger. “So this is what it comes down to. Forget about any apologies and stick to …hard facts.” Some boys snickered, as Terry knew they would. “Either I’m a boy and you’re getting a hard-on looking at me, which makes you the faggot. Or I’m a girl and you’re just being a regular guy. Which is it?”

The loudmouth was smart enough to realize how he had to play it. Grudgingly, he said, “You’re a girl.”

Terry flashed on a major idea; it was triggered by something in the tone of the guy’s response but also something …physical in the loudmouth’s demeanor when Terry had approached him, and when he’d raised the finger. It was almost a …flinch? Terry tried to remember something he’d read long ago about bullies, about dominance. He decided to risk it.

Terry kept the foot thrust forward, his hands on his hips. “Yes. I’m a girl. Say it,” Terry said.

“You’re a girl,” the boy responded, nodding.

“Am I pretty? You must think so, because you’ve got a woodie just from looking at me.”

The boy frowned. There were some laughs from the other boys.

“Say it,” Terry said, almost snapping the first word.

“You’re a pretty girl,” the boy said in a rush, automatically.

Unbelievable! Terry thought, but said, “So since we’ve established that I’m a pretty girl, then when Derek was dancing with me …” He let it hang. “Tell us,” he ordered.

“So he’s not a faggot,” the boy said. “I was …I was mistaken …”

Terry smiled and said to the group of boys, “Mistakes can happen. No …hard feelings, huh, guys?”

The boys either nodded or snickered. Terry turned to Derek, but he didn’t move and his face was unreadable.

Terry felt his inner strength crumbling. His lips trembled and his eyes stung. He turned and worked hard at maintaining what he hoped looked like a casual walk back to his staring girlfriends, who clustered around. He suddenly broke down in a sob as Melanie and Julie hugged him and quickly walked him out of the barn.

Terry was still dabbing his eyes, standing by a parked car with Melanie, when Derek came out of the barn. He saw the two of them and threw his head back in a sigh.

“Geez, what’s with him?” Melanie asked.

“I robbed him of his fight,” Terry nodded.

“He should be glad!”

“No; it’s not the way guys work. They …” Terry sighed and shook his head. Then he looked at his best friend. “Love you, Mel,” he smiled and then walked toward Derek.

“Derek? Can I say something?” Terry asked softly.

“I don’t know; you can be kind of scary when you’re talking,” Derek said with a small smile.

Terry took that as a good sign but knew he had work to do.

“Let me say upfront that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” It was asked without any anger, just surprise.

“I butted into the middle of things. You were handling it just fine, I know, but I couldn’t just let you be my knight in shining armor. You said it was about him insulting me, and I just thought that …I was the problem. And you shouldn’t have to hassle with my problem.”

“It’s not your problem,” Derek said evenly. “It’s his.”

“Well, yeah, but he’s got a problem with my problem. And it kind of …it just pissed me off, you know? He had no right to yell at you. If he’s got a problem, he should have yelled at me.”

“Well, you were right. He has no problem yelling,” Derek grinned.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to get caught in it. And I got pissed off, like I said. And I realized that the whole thing …the whole night, the whole summer, my whole life …was coming down to what they think of me. What everybody thinks. I know what I think, what I know; I’m a girl and always have been. But if it didn’t get settled, they’d make my life hell and also my family and my friends …” He looked at Derek with wide eyes.

Derek nodded. “You’re probably right, there.”

“So I just took the bull by the horns, so to speak.”

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “Man! You sure did! It was creepy. Creepy cool but …creepy how you …like, ordered him around.”

“I know!” Terry giggled, covering his mouth.“Believe me, Derek; I’ve never, ever done anything like that before. But standing there, I saw little …flashes of something from the guy, the way he moved, and I suddenly remembered an article I’d read that bullies are usually bullied at home. And that bullies often are most afraid of being found out, that they’re scared, and that bullies often have a secret desire to be bossed around, to be dominated. It’s really perverse; they bully people hoping to find the one person that will bully them. So I just thought …why not try it?”

Derek laughed. “It was amazing. You probably could have gotten him to roll over and play dead. He was totally under your control.” Derek’s handsome face did something. “I kind of know the feeling,” he added softly.

Terry’s heart fluttered but he kept himself together. “I really, really wasn’t trying to take the fight away from you; I know you could take the guy. But you didn’t need to and it really wouldn’t have solved things for me. Or for you.”

Derek nodded. “I can see that. Now, I mean. I was pissed at you at first, and then I thought, ‘Wait a minute; why am I pissed at her?’ and I began thinking about it. You’re right.” He nodded again, and then chuckled. “But when you pointed at his pants …”

Terry blushed and his hands flew to his mouth. “Omigod, I know! I can’t believe I did that! But it was so obvious to me; I mean, there the thing was, and the argument sort of made itself, you know? And all I really had to do was point it out.”

Derek seemed embarrassed about something.

Oh, God! He’s getting hard thinking about me! Terry realized. It made him feel very powerful and yet very feminine. And very happy.

“Derek, I just wanted to say I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did,” Terry said. “You’re a really great guy and I loved dancing with you and …I just wanted to say that.” He turned to go back to Melanie.

“Teresa? Terry?” Derek said. “Uh …I really enjoyed dancing with you and …I’d like to do some more of it, if you’re agreeable.”

“I don’t think …”

“Dance with him, Terry!” Melanie shouted.

“Mel!” Terry spun at her.

“Go on! You know you want to!” Melanie grinned.

Derek was scratching the back of his head. “This is kind of awkward …”

“Melanie, we are not going to dance!” Terry declared, and then turned to Derek and said softly, “Because maybe we just want to walk …?”

Derek smiled and held out his hand. Terry ran a step to take Derek’s hand in both of his and squeezed it.

“See you, Melanie,” Derek called over his shoulder, grinning.

“Back by eleven, Tere! Or Dave’ll be pissed!” Melanie shouted.

“Got it!” Terry called out, hearing Melanie respond with a whoop and a giggle.

That was the true turning point, at least as far as the younger crowd was concerned. Teresa Wilcox was a girl and was going steady–or ‘pert near’–with Derek Sommersby after a killer confrontation with a Duvall boy at the midsummer dance. End of story.

All summer, though, Betsy’s dominoes continued to fall. A week after she’d told the family about their genetic inheritance from AGM, she’d reappeared at the farm with an attorney, Steven Gianni. He was a Big Name in environmental cases against corporations, and had agreed to offer his firm’s services to the Wilcox family, completely on a contingency basis. As similar cases were being discovered, he was adding to his client list so his terms were quite reasonable–a class action suit was sure to be more powerful, as well as with the media already sniffing around–and Steve was sure it would be enough pressure to induce action from AGM.

But to everyone’s surprise, AGM did not repeat their actions of the past, when they had denied culpability and quietly paid off families for their silence. In fact, AGM had been expecting–most likely, dreading–cases of exposure to Mackenzie produce when the children reached puberty–the ‘second wave’, as it was generally called now. AGM’s own scientists had warned the company to be prepared, and the emotional climate towards corporations had also changed over the last decade-and-a-half.

Before, corporations had been assumed to be paragons of virtue, working for the benefit of American citizens while making a sensible profit. It was assumed they would never resort to illegal, unethical or downright immoral practices. Any such cases that cropped up from time to time were assumed to be due to an unfortunate misunderstanding or due to an individual criminal within the company. It was easier to buy silence from those who knew better. Now, some corporations were widely known to be rapacious profit machines without any consideration for the benefit or even the safety of the American citizens, and were fueled by obscenely huge profits. Cases of poisonings, contaminations, dumping of sub-standard pharmaceuticals and worse were common knowledge.

AGM, already under fire for everything from contamination, illegal experimentation, and price fixing, was facing a Congressional inquiry and class action suits on several fronts. It was the corporate reasoning that America depended on the food AGM provided; therefore nothing must threaten their massive agri-business; their mega-farms must be preserved.

In a move that was welcomed by all–although with suspicion–AGM held a press conference and performed a major public mea culpa. They pointed to the benefits of their research and deplored the ‘unfortunate, unforeseeable side-effects’ of the testing of ‘decades past’, and also pointed out the safeguards they’d instituted to make sure it never happened again. They even trotted out ‘Mr. Mackenzie’, who turned out to be an AGM scientist named Paul Ferguson, who tearfully apologized for anyone hurt in their efforts to bring more abundant healthy food to America. The only cloud on that horizon was when an investigative journalist turned up the fact that the alleged ‘Mrs. Mackenzie’, a researcher named Sarah Woodbridge, had committed suicide five years before, leaving a note that said she couldn’t live with the terrible lies and hurtful things she’d done to innocent people under AGM’s orders.

Consequently, AGM made it plain to Steve Gianni and other lawyers that they were not going to fight; there was no need for a court battle and ensuing, prolonged media coverage, and they publically pledged to ‘provide every assistance, medical and financial, within reason’ to all the affected families.

Meanwhile, the Wilcox family spent the Fourth of July watching fireworks at the county park and the next day Mom drove Alice and Terry to the big city hospital. Both children were taken separately and began a day-long series of tests. Mom spent a less-than-happy day shopping for odds and ends at the mall, worry for her children keeping her almost itchy with nerves. Dad had stayed on the farm to work but had a wish-list of parts he and Alice wanted from the John Deere and Napa stores. At the end of the day, Mom was told that Alice could return home but they’d like to keep Terry for one more day. After a nervous and tearful farewell with Terry, mother and new-son drove home.

Alice told her that she’d had all the fluids checked, plus DNA swabs and hair samples. She’d had a very complete gynecological exam, which she made plain was absolute torture. She’d had an MRI and some other scans, and in between each session she met with different groups of psychologists and psychiatrists. She’d looked at inkblots and photographs and even had her brain mapped with electrodes while they asked more questions. Then there had been yet another gynecological exam.

“Then they said they were finished, and it wasn’t even four. I spent the last hour sitting in the waiting room, trying to find something decent to read while I waited for you,” Alice reported. “Finally found a two-year old Popular Mechanics,” she chuckled. “What is it with waiting rooms? Don’t they keep up their subscriptions?”

“Do you think that even then they were observing you, maybe?” Mom asked.

“I never thought of that,” Alice frowned. “Probably. I mean, they were thorough. Twice in the stirrups …man, I hope I never have to do that again.”

“I know how humiliating it is, Alice. I haven’t met a woman yet that liked it–”

“It’s not that–”

“Wait; I’m not done! Nobody likes the stirrup chair but I was going to say that I know how extra painful it must be for you to endure that. I don’t know how you can avoid it, though. So you’ll just have to …‘man up in the stir-rup’!” she grinned.

“Yeah, I know,” Alice said, watching the darkening countryside go past. “But I …I’m worried about Terry.”

“Me, too,” Mom said quietly.

“I saw her at one point; she was being wheeled out of–”

Mom snapped her head to Alice. “Wheeled? Like strapped down? Or on a stretcher or what’s that thing called–”

“Ma, calm down. It’s called a gurney. But I meant in wheelchairs. That’s how they moved us around, both of us. Pretty fast, too. She was being wheeled out, I was being wheeled in.”

“Okay, then,” Mom said, calming. “So, how did she look?”

“Scared…and embarrassed,” Alice said quietly. “She tried to be brave. She joked and said, ‘Piece of cake, bro!’ but her eyes …” Alice tapped her hand on her leg several times. “I never …I never really understood how this is for her. I mean, I said that it would be easier for a big farm girl to pass as a boy, but this isn’t about passing. It’s about …”

They drove on in silence while Alice formulated her thoughts, still tapping her leg. Just like her father, Mom thought. She prefers thinking her statements through rather than just letting the words come out. And the tapping thing ...Frank does that when he’s angry, wound up.

Finally, Alice said, “It’s like this. There’s the society thing that Terry feels way more than me. As screwy as it is, it’s much easier for people to accept a girl wanting to be a boy. After all, it’s a man’s world, right? And that word ‘tomboy’ that I always heard …it was a polite and acceptable word. You know, Mom, even when it wasn’t about me. You’d be in a store and overhear someone say, ‘How’s your granddaughter?’ and the other one says, ‘Oh, she’s going through her tomboy phase; I can’t get her into a dress’ and the first one says, ‘Well, she’ll grow out of it. I remember mine’ and so on and so on.”

Mom nodded, chuckling. “That’s pretty much word-for-word. You’re right.”

“But now flip it; think about it for a boy that wants to be a girl. ‘How’s your grandson?’ ‘Oh, he’s fine. Going through his sissy phase. Can’t get him out of his dresses’.”

Mom laughed out loud. “I never thought of it in such simple terms! You’re right!”

The tapping was back. “Ma, the doctors and all were really polite with me, all professional and friendly, but I’m the tomboy, so it’s acceptable. I got the feeling, just from looking at the ones with Terry, that maybe some of them thought she was a sissy, or a freak, or …” Alice’s jaw tightened. “They shouldn’t treat her that way. She deserves better. I wanted to get up, grab her wheelchair and push her the hell out of there, away from all of that.”

“You’re such a good big brother!” Mom smiled. “Protective of your little sister. I love you so much for that, Al.”

Alice looked uncomfortable but said, “Well, thanks, but …I know the tests have to be done. And I know that Terry’s way more complicated than me. It’s just the thought of her being there, all alone, overnight.”

“I bought her some books and magazines today, and she’s got those, plus there’s some DVD thing they have in her room,” Mom said, then frowned. “But I worry about her, too, and I’m calling her the moment we get home. But don’t feel slighted; I’m sure you’re every bit as complicated as Terry; they probably just took you first and got your things together faster.”

“No, Ma; they told me she was more complicated.”

“Because …” Mom had no idea.

“Towards the end, they were winding up their time with me. They said the analysis of everything would be done overnight. One of the doctors–I guess he was trying to reassure me–said something about how I should relax; my case was pretty simple. ‘Not like your brother’s,’ he said. See, Ma? Even then, that doctor, smiling at me, insulted my sister!”

Mom noticed that Alice had curled a fist in anger. “I’m sure he was just trying to calm you, and …he wasn’t involved with Terry.”

“But that was just it; what I said just now. He had no problem smiling at the tomboy and sounding kind of …sneering at the sissy.”

“I get your point,” Mom said, feeling anger herself.

“Anyway, I asked him what he meant about me being simpler and he started to tell me but another one took over; she’d worked with Terry in the morning.”

“So there was some crossover of doctors.”

“Oh, yeah. And the corporate guys, too–”

“Corporate guys?” Mom’s head snapped around again.

“Steve explained it to us, remember? Before we signed everything?”

“Well, that they’d have access to the data …”

“I think when I said ‘corporate guys’ you thought of dark suits hovering in the background. No, these were doctors; they were right there in the thick of it. The way it was explained to me was that part of the agreement with AGM is that they be actively involved in helping us. Part of that new strategy Steve said they were doing, to help with their damage control. But they’re paying for everything so I didn’t mind. And the doctors from the hospital itself seemed pretty much okay with the corporate guys. Only way you could tell ‘em apart was the embroidery on their white coats.”

“Embroidery?”

“No, not … needlepoint or something,” Alice laughed. “The docs all have their names embroidered–you know, stitched–on their lab coats. But some had the hospital name and some had the corporate logo. That’s what I meant about telling them apart.”

Mom nodded, understanding.“So what about you being simpler than Terry?”

“Well, they don’t know for sure–although I think they already knew a lot more than they were letting us think–but it’s two things. You know we all start out half-female, right? I mean, as eggs?”

“Yes, dear; I had heard a thing or two about that!” Mom chuckled.

“They’d speak in a mix of medical jargon and regular talk and analogies. Basically, we all start out half-female with the X chromosome. Every egg. Then the male’s sperm fertilizes and things start developing pretty much the same for boys or girls for most of the pregnancy. Things form, I mean; hands, a nose, things that just make a human being, male or female not entering into it. Then things start making female or male parts whether the sperm had an X or a Y, so things might become ovaries or might become testicles. Like if there’s a Y in the father’s sperm, at some point things switch and hands stay hands but ovaries become testicles.”

“We both know it’s even more complicated than that but I understand,” Mom said.

“I know you do; I’m just setting it up the way they told me while it’s fresh. So besides the physical stuff, there’s chemical stuff going on, brain chemistry and such. What we call ‘the wiring’ is really chemicals in the brain.”

Alice was silent for a time and Mom let her think.

“I’m going to switch to the other thing that’s different between Terry and me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about but nobody’s really addressed it yet, as far as I know. Exposure. When we were all discussing this whole thing with Steve, you and Dad remembered that you started buying from the Mackenzies sometime during the pregnancy. I mean, with me.”

Mom nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was my second trimester, maybe the very start of the third; the dates seem to line up with the information Betsy came up with. About when they began offering their produce on the market.”

Alice nodded. “Exposure, then. See, I was barreling along to be a proper little girl for half or most of your pregnancy. Then you started eating the Mackenzie stuff, and it took awhile to take effect, so it was only in the middle or even the last stages that I was affected. That’s why I have a full set of female organs, and grew up to have periods, breasts, and so on, because I was mostly done as a female, so to speak. In the womb, I mean. But the Mackenzie stuff affected my brain chemistry, not just wiring me to think like a male, but also my pituitary and adrenal and other glands–basically messed up my …” Alice frowned.

Mom let her think..

Alice continued. “No, I’m not going to say ‘messed up’, because I like being a guy. The Mackenzie stuff rewired me as a male, but so late in pregnancy that I didn’t look male, although it’s my endo …enda …”

“Endocrine?”

“That’s the one. My endocrine system was most affected, for growth and thought patterns. It’s why I’m so big and strong and think like a guy. My Mackenzie brain sent out the commands to my body to start making a boy, to build stronger bones and make muscles and stuff. Girls’ bodies don’t get those commands. Metabolism, too; that’s different.”

Mom nodded, taking it all in. “And Terry was exposed more.”

Alice laughed sadly. “I’ll say! Mom, I’ve gotta say this up front: It was not your fault, okay? Nobody knew, so don’t blame yourself. But this is the major difference between Terry and me. You started eating Mackenzie stuff when you were already pregnant with me. But you were already eating Mackenzie stuff all the way through your pregnancy with Terry. Plus, your system had three years of eating it in between us!”

Mom’s eyes widened and she gasped. “I never thought of that! But–they said it had no affect on adults!”

“No affect on the adults themselves, but, Ma …you were saturated with the stuff–three years’ worth!–so your system, your womb and everything, was already affected. Face it, Ma; you were Mackenzie soup! And then you dropped Terry into it.”

“I didn’t drop Terry into …” Mom sagged. “I get your analogy. I can’t tell you how …devastated and …and angry …”

“And betrayed,” Alice nodded. “So, Ma, here’s the point with Terry. The doctor explaining me to me? She said embryonic development–for our cases–could be thought of as a railroad track. The train is growth; it chugs along in a straight line on the tracks and if it’s the XX Express–she even smiled when she called it that–then the tracks continue in a straight line. When the Y chromosome fires up, it’s like a switch that routes the train onto a different track, and that’s the male track. Both tracks reach the same destination–birth.”

“Makes sense, in a rudimentary kind of way. I think the Y chromosome is more active than that; I mean, right from the very start.”

Alice turned to face Mom with some excitement. “Yeah! I know, but …think about the XX Express with me. I was going along that straight line because there was no Y chromosome. They’re running more tests tonight but they did tell me I’m definitely XX.”

“Wait a minute–if you’re XX, where did you get a Y …” Her eyes widened. “Mackenzie?”

Alice nodded enthusiastically. “It’s not your genes and it’s not Dad’s genes. Both of you guys did your job the right way. And I didn’t get a biological Y chromosome–not through Dad’s sperm, I mean. The effects of a Y chromosome …that’s what the Mackenzie stuff added!”

“You mean the Mackenzie produce caused …” Mom began nodding. “Y chromosome effects, the chemistry and so on?”

“Right! That’s what’s so mind-blowing about it all! Everybody’s been figuring you’re either XX or XY. Or those …I don’t know what you call ‘em, but the rare ones with like XXX or XYY?” She laughed. “Although triple-X sounds like–”

“I know very well what it sounds like, young man!” Mom said sternly, even as part of her noticed how easily she’d said ‘young man’.

Trying to get past the chastising, Alice quickly said, “But it’s not the chromosomes themselves! That’s the incredible thing about the Mackenzie stuff. In a way, whatever the side-effect does mimics the effects of the …” She trailed off, staring. “Yeah! Of course!”

“Of course what?” Mom asked.

“Ma, they never said this, but I just said ‘side-effects’ and I told you that it was like the effects of the Y chromosome, without changing the chromosome itself, right?”

Mom thought over all they’d said and then nodded.

Alice said, “It’s all about the effects, Ma! They’re not side-effects! They’re not …by-products of the contamination; they’re the whole reason for the Mackenzie stuff to begin with! Look, Ma; I’m big and strong. And isn’t that what you want with your crops? Higher yield? Hardiness? Your livestock, too? Big and strong?” Mom nodded and Alice continued, swept along. “AGM probably designed their stuff to do things like that, and so it affected me and–hey-whaddya-know–I’m big and strong! Makes sense, right?”

Mom nodded. “It makes perfect sense when you explain–”

“Oh, God!” Alice gasped, eyes widened. “You’d want big and strong livestock but your breeding stock, you’d want …well, however livestock gets domestic. More fertile, more …mothery, if there’s such a word.”

“I’m sure there isn’t,” Mom chuckled and then froze as Alice’s words sank in. “Terry? Terry?”

Alice nodded solemnly. “We got hit both ways.”

They looked at each other in silence, stunned.

Alice recovered first, clearing his throat. “So that’s why I’m simple. I was an XX embryo happily on her way to being Daddy’s Little Girl and the Mackenzie stuff suddenly said, ‘Let’s just make her big and strong’ and it also meant developing like a male and that’s why I’m the way I am.”

“I see! It is pretty simple–and an outrage!” Mom took a deep breath. “But I understand. And did they say anything they can do for you? For Terry?”

Alice frowned and looked out the window. “Naw. I’m wired this way; it’s cellular. But we did talk about the options. For me. Well, not options. Operations.”

“I know you want your breasts removed,” Mom said gently.

“Right. That’s first and foremost. That’s one operation. The second is …you’re not going to like this and I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand that I have to do it. The second operation is a hysterectomy. No more female plumbing, no more periods, no menopause. Also, without the estrogen in my system, I’ll develop even more like a regular guy. On one hand it sounds like a win-win, but I asked about …well …” Alice looked down at her hands. “Mom, they can remove some eggs from me first; freeze ‘em. I could have my own biological baby …with my wife, I mean …” Her forehead creased with the future possibilities and complications.

Mom had noticed that Alice had called her ‘Mom’ and knew this may be the last female conversation she would ever have with her first-born child. Softly and gently, she said, “I think that’s a wise decision. I understand completely, the hysterectomy, but saving your eggs …I had no idea they could do that and I think it’s wonderful that you consider it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Alice said softly.

Mom knew with that final word, their mother-and-daughter moment was done. From now on, it would be about her son. They drove on in silence for a time, and then Mom said, “That’s two. What’s the third operation?”

“They can make a penis, or an almost-penis, that will look like the real thing.” Alice laughed. “I can even write my name with my pee!”

Mom laughed with her. “What is it with guys and their fascination with writing with their pee?”

“Marking our territory, maybe? Anyway, they said there’s an …inflation gadget that would mean I could get erect and I could …” Alice frowned. “Don’t want to freak you out, Ma.”

Mom laughed again. “Way too late for that!”

“Okay, then,” Alice chuckled. “I can have normal sexual relations with a girl. My wife, of course!”

“Oh, of course!” Mom teased back.

“No ejaculation, like I said, but …they said I could combine my eggs with hers and we could have a sperm donor and we could have a child …” Alice sighed. “All in the future.”

“Yes, honey, but now you have a future,” Mom reassured.

“Yeah. It’s complicated …but it’s mine,” Alice declared with some pride.

After a time, Mom said, “So Terry is more complicated?”

End of Part 6