I was astounded. "How did you know it was me?"

She chuckled. "I'm psychic, remember? No, seriously, I have caller ID. What did you think?"

This weekend was even better than the last. The more time I spent with Ida, the more I liked her. We did the makeup thing: she talked to me about colors. We flipped through a fashion magazine and she used the faces to illustrate different techniques, and explained when and where they're appropriate. We talked about day, evening, and night. She showed me how she did her own face. Together we picked out some good cosmetics for me, and she helped me get three different looks with them. I had my eyebrows tweezed, which is always fun (I'm being sarcastic, in case you can't tell — tweezing eyebrows is a pain!).

We did other things too. We watched The Devil Wears Prada together, and we took a long walk through the neighborhood. She told me how things had changed since she was my age... who used to live in this house and that house... who was her best friend, and what they did together.

I got so comfortable during our walk that I almost told her my secret — my big secret — I mean, about how I used to be a boy.

Thank goodness I didn't, but it was only chance that stopped me: we ran into a tiny little girl with a cute little dog, and after that distraction was over, the feeling passed and I realized what a bad mistake I almost made.

On Sunday night when I was lying in bed, I realized that Ida and I were bonding. It used to sound like a stupid meaningless word to me, but now that I'd experienced it, I deeply appreciated it.

And then, of course, Monday at school was a terrible let-down after the weekend. It was hard to take the mundane ritual... high school almost seemed unreal: flat, dull, and, well... high school.

Until the big moment: when I finally went home. Maisie had told me at the very end of lunch period that she and my mother had "done" my room. She told me at the absolute last minute of lunch, so it was impossible for me to ask her anything at all. I know she did it that way on purpose. I was in agony the rest of the day.

"You'll see, Princess! You'll see," she cackled, and I wanted to smack her. Plus, I had to tell myself that being called Princess was a lot better than being called Mark.

When I got home, I ran upstairs and burst into my bedroom.

It was a dream! The furniture was white neo-Victorian (my mother told me later). There was a bureau as tall as me, a huge desk, a rolling chair, a bookcase, a cute bedside table with a lamp. Near the front windows was a sitting area with two massive armchairs, a rug and a coffee table. The bed had an antique cast-iron frame, and an incredibly high mattress, and the whole thing was covered with a mountain of blankets, covers, and pillows. I couldn't believe it. All the furniture, the rugs, the bedclothes, must have cost a fortune!

"It wasn't as much as you might think," Mom said. "With Ida's help, I was able to get some amazing deals. Most of these pieces were a display setting, so we saved quite a bit just from that... And knowing what I was looking for helped a lot. I think I mentioned to you on the plane that we had a generous budget."

"Although you did go a little overboard," my father commented with a smile, as he peeked in the doorway over Mom's shoulder.

"What about you?" she asked, nudging him conspiratorially in the side.

"Oh, yeah!" he laughed as he hauled out a computer video screen from behind his back. "I'd almost forgotten!" He walked theatrically over to my desk, where he set it down with a flourish.

"The rest of it's in the extra room," he said. "I'll hook it up later."

"A computer!" I shouted, overjoyed.

"We figured you could use some of that reward money now," Mom said, "and your father says that the computer will help you with your homework."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "So, Marcie, are we the best parents, or what?"

"Yes!" I shouted, "You guys are the best parents ever!" And I ran over to hug them.

Now, I told you all of that just so I could tell you this: That night, after dinner, after my dad had set up the computer ("We don't have the internet hookup yet, so you'll have to be patient," he cautioned), after I finished my homework and changed into my pajamas, I sat on the floor in the middle of my room and looked around me.

I had never had a bedroom like this before.

I never dreamed I would ever have a room like this, yet here it was.

I didn't mind that Mom, Ida, and Maisie had chosen it all for me. It was better that way: I didn't have any ideas about it. I wouldn't have known where or how to even begin.

My room was beautiful, and far better than anything I could have come up with on my own.

That's when it hit me: I was finally settled. Since last August, when we started packing, I hadn't really had a home. But now, I did: I was HOME. I could feel it, through and through.

It was exactly the feeling that Mrs. Earshon, the psychic, had mentioned: "When you're in your new house, the first time you look around your room and feel that everything's in place, then you can call me."

I looked at the clock. It was 9:15. That meant it was 6:15 in California. I dug out my address book and dialed the number.

It rang twice, and then I heard the familiar voice say, "Hello, Marcie?"

I was astounded. "How did you know it was me?"

She chuckled. "I'm psychic, remember? No, seriously, I have caller ID. What did you think?"

"Oh," I said. "So..."

"Tell me, Marcie, how is your room? Is everything in place?"

"Yes, it's–"

"Hang on, Marcie, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm going to start dinner soon. We can talk a little bit about you, and a little bit about business. But we have to be quick, because my tummy's rumbling. I've been going all day, and had to skip lunch."

She put on a headset and chatted as she quickly dealt some cards. "Let's see what we have," she said, and then let out an sigh of dismay. "With you, there is always this double... um, two things mixed together." This was something that confused her greatly when I first met her, before she knew I was transitioning.

"I never... Oh, look at this: There is danger coming, soon, I mean physical danger, but it's not for you... but at the same time it involves you. Oh, dear. Let's see. Oh, I wish we had more time, but... hmm... Right: what it probably means is that somebody misses their aim: they want to hurt someone else, but end up trying to hurt you."

"Is it bad?" I asked.

"You'll be alright," she replied. "The cards that talk about your health and well-being, they're all good. So, you won't be harmed. Maybe a little scared, but you're a brave girl. What you need to remember is this: you have to try to be the best friend that you can be. That's what will save you; that's what will get you through."

Oh, brother! It sounded like an after-school film! Incredulous, I asked, "I'm supposed to be best friends with a person who tries to hurt me?"

"No, that's not what I said. You have to be a friend to the people around you. People your age."

"Is someone my age going to try to hurt me?"

"Hold on. Try to stop interrupting, okay? This danger that I mentioned, it involves an adult, a man, not a relative. Someone you've met." I thought of the bank robber and the purse snatcher. Who else could it be?

For some reasons, Sister Honororia's brother, the policeman, came to mind as well, but it couldn't be him. He wouldn't hurt me. He was a jerk and a power freak, but he was a policeman, after all.

"As far as people your age... there is a girl close to you, probably in your class, your school, who will be... very negative toward you. VERY negative. But there, too, you have to try to stay open, to love, to be a good friend. I see this girl has a broken heart. And this is someone you've already met. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

"Oh, yes," I said, and tears came to my eyes. It had to be Maisie.

"Okay, so be ready. This is going to happen soon, too. The good news is that both things are going to come in the next week or two, and then it will all be over. Oh, and hmm. It says here that you just got some money, but I saw that in the newspapers already. Put it in the bank. You'll need it for something... I don't know what."

I wanted to interrupt and complain about all the love and be a friend stuff — how could she be serious? What was it? Love conquers all? Give me a break!

I didn't get a chance to ask her, though. Just as I was opening my mouth, she went on to something else.

"Here's one more hard thing with some good news behind it: you have to call your old boyfriend–"

"Jerry?"

"I don't know his name, Marcie. Anyway, you need to call him so he can break up with you."

"What!? You can't tell me to break up with him!"

"I'm not, Marcie," she said. "I never said you should break up with him. I'm just saying that you have to call him. However, according to the cards, when you call, he's going to break up with you. You don't need to — in fact, you shouldn't — say anything about a breakup. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry, but I don't think I am."

"Hmmph!" I commented. "I don't want to do it!"

"You have to. Otherwise you won't be able to go on with... oh, you'll find out. You have to call him. But don't worry: there will always be a boy buzzing around you. Not 'boys', plural, but there will always be a boy for you. Okay?

"I guess," I said glumly.

"Keep your chin up," she said. "It's mostly good news. Bad stuff followed by good stuff. That's going to be your life, so get used to it. And, listen, I have to go. I'm starving! This one's a freebie, but I'm going to send you a little brochure with prices and what to do if you want to talk with me. I told you, this is what I do for a living. You're an interesting person, but I can't do this for free. Okay?"

I gave her my address and we hung up.

© 2007 Kaleigh Way