One boy is about to learn that he has already passed such an event, and nothing will ever be quite the same…

Apprehensively, Billy followed Nancy and Lauren through the mall, his mom walking to his left, trying to encourage him by a subtle grin and with a discreetly placed hand on his shoulder now and then. Right then, Billy misunderstood the difference between praising and teasing all too easily, so his mother was watching out for him. Still, she and the girls had made plans, so she’d need to be more assertive with him. Of course, being his mom, she knew just how to do it.

They approached the salon that Patricia and Nancy liked to visit, Maxine’s New House of Glamour. “Girls, I think we ought to enjoy ourselves this afternoon,” she opined. “Are you up for it? My treat!”

“That’d be great, Mis’ess Danziger!” Lauren beamed at her friend’s mother. “I haven’t gone to a salon since my senior prom.”

“It’s been almost as long for me as well!” Nancy admitted. “And poor Billie has never been!”

“Maybe that’s ’coz Billie doesn’t wanna go?” Billy objected to the main point of the discussion.

“Oh, nonsense!” Patricia declared. “How can you possibly know if you’ve never been?”

Billy would like to have answered his mother’s question. He did not want to go because he was a boy. Nor did he, however, wish to call attention to the fact that he was a boy while wearing his current attire. Anyway, it was a rhetorical question, which to answer was at best poor style, if not simply rude. In other words, it would not be cool. Besides, to answer your mother’s rhetorical question probably was sassing.

No, Billy was not dressed for any kind of confrontation.

Billy felt his sister take him by the left arm, Lauren by the right, and with his mother laying her hands on his shoulder from behind, ushered him into the salon. The receptionist raised an eyebrow at the party of four as they entered. “Can I help you,” she asked.

“Would you be able to squeeze us four ladies in this afternoon?” Patricia inquired. “That’s myself, my two daughters, and our friend.”

“That you, Trish?” a lady of nearly the same age as Patricia stepped up to greet her with a smile in her eyes. “I haven’t seen you for so long!”

“Good to see you again, too, Maxie!” Patricia returned the greeting. “You weren’t here when I came in before I sent Nancy off to college.”

“Jim and I weren’t back from the Bahamas, yet,” she admitted. “There was a cancellation at the resort where we were staying, so the manager offered us a nice deal to stay longer. Jim insisted that it was too good to pass up and I really couldn’t disagree.”

“Well, some people have all the luck!” Patricia registered as a mock complaint.

“I’m not apologizing for it, though,” teased Maxine. “Now what can we do for you today, Trish?”

“The works for all of us,” said Patricia. “Nancy is here with her college roommate Lauren, and my younger daughter Billie needs a full makeover.”

Maxine had recognized Billy as her friend’s teenaged son. Whatever was going on was Trish’s affair between mother and son. Maxine had no reason to interfere. Besides, this meant additional income and perhaps some fun on the side.

“Zoë, come here please!” Maxine called to one of her assistants, a young woman in her early twenties, sporting her platinum-blond hair in a semi-pageboy haircut. “This is Billie’s first time. Her mom wants her to have a total makeover.”

“Not that, please!” Billy objected.

“Nonsense!” Zoë dismissed his complaint. “We’re gonna have some fun today! Since this is your first time here, you’re gonna get to know some of the perks of being a girl.” The assistant beautician led Billie by the hand to a changing room. She handed him a pink terrycloth bathrobe. “You undress, now, and put this on. I’ll be back for you in a minute.”

Zoë closed the curtain behind her to leave Billie in privacy. As she did, Maxine beckoned her over. “What is it?” Zoë asked.

“I don’t know if you guessed—,” whispered her boss.

“Billie’s really a boy, isn’t he?” Zoë anticipated, still sotto voce.

“Yes! He’s Trish’s son and Nancy’s little brother Billy.”

Zoë fought to suppress a giggle. “So, what’s the story?”

“He didn’t participate in his school’s dress-up day, so Trish is sending him to school as a girl Monday.”

Zoë could suppress her giggling no longer. “So, what should I do with him?”

“Make him look as much like a girl as you can,” Maxine advised her. ”And while you can tease him some, be gentle about it. After all, we don’t want him running away.” Zoë and Maxine both giggled together.

Kelly heard knocking and looked up from her laptop. “Rhonda?—Rhonda Davies?”

“Hi, Kelly! I saw what happened at the game so I thought I’d come by,” said the Freshman Homecoming Princess. “Are you feeling any better today?”

“Except for the broken wrist, I’m actually feeling pretty good,” Kelly assured her. “How are you?”

I’m alright, except—well—I feel guilty,” confessed Rhonda.

“But why?”

“Well, first, I want to thank you for letting me have Homecoming Princess. Passing me the crown was really gracious of you.”

“Do you know why I did?”

“I heard it was because your escort wasn’t available. Is that, like, true?”

“Yes, it is. I had named Brandon MacDonald, but he’s ill. In fact, he’s in another room down the hall.”

“We’re lab partners in French One,” Rhonda informed Kelly, reaching into her purse. “Here! I got you this, like, for a thank-you gift.” Rhonda withdrew a satin gift box from her purse and presented it to Kelly. She took the lid off the box to see inside of it a porcelain figurine of a knight mounted on a white horse, in shining golden armor and ready for battle.

“It’s beautiful!” Kelly beamed, noting the craftsmanship. It somehow reminded her of others that her mother had at home, but she wasn’t sure. Rhonda had put some thought as well as some money into the gift. “Thank you!” Kelly sang out as she drew Rhonda awkwardly into a bedside hug with her right arm, allowing them to kiss one another’s cheek.

“Maybe he’ll do until you can find your real Knight-Escort to keep you company?” Rhonda gently teased.

“Maybe,” agreed Kelly. “So, like, who’s yours?”

“Jimmy Pickering,” Rhonda named as her escort.

“I didn’t know, like, you two were a couple,” Kelly, teased Rhonda with a smile.

“Kind of a new couple,” emphasized Rhonda hesitantly. “Of course, he’s escorting me to the Homecoming Banquet and Ball tonight.”

“Then you be sure to have enough fun for both of us,” Kelly wished her. “But you still haven’t answered my question: why d’you feel guilty?”

“Because if you hadn’t passed the title to me, you wouldn’t have been on the sidelines and injured with Abby while cheering.”

“Oh, Rhonda! Don’t think that way!” Kelly consoled her. “I was injured trying to protect my friend and I’d do it again. If I could change anything at all, I’d have been fast enough to get us both safely out of the way. My injury is merely inconvenient compared to what Double Abby is dealing with. She’s still unconscious.”

“But how about you?” Rhonda began with a new line of inquiry. “Won’t your broken wrist keep you from cheering?”

“Well, I can still, like, sing, yell cheers, and maybe dance simpler choreography, but pyramids and any of our more daring gymnastics hafta wait until my wrist heals up,” she explained. That’s at least six weeks, then like a couple more for physical therapy.

“How do Abby’s injuries affect the team?”

“We’re not sure yet. With her out and me injured, we need either to rework much of our choreography and many of our stunts, or find someone who can learn it quickly so we don’t hafta make too many changes. So Coach Brenda is already looking for a substitute. I mean, Double Abby is out for at least three months with physical therapy if not longer. She’s out for the remainder of football season and most of volleyball and basketball seasons. If she heals well, and setbacks, I figure she could do some lighter cheering for spring sports—kinda like what I’ll be doing until my wrist heals.”

“How bad are her injuries?”

“Broken arm, broken leg—two places—three broken ribs with ruptured spleen, and a concussion,” recounted Kelly. “The ruptured spleen was her most serious injury, I think. Her surgeon was able to repair it, but it will prob’ly take the longest time of all to heal.”

“I wish I could do something for Abby. I feel so helpless about it all,” lamented Rhonda. “Maybe I can do something to help her out when she’s awake again? I did get her a figurine, too, though.”

“What kind?” Kelly asked, not only in earnest curiosity but also to distract her friend from feeling helpless.

Rhonda withdrew another satin gift box from her purse and opened the lid to show Kelly. “I got her this from the same line of figurines as yours.”

“Oh, that’s such a lovely piece. She’ll like it very much,” affirmed Kelly examining the beautiful figurine of a unicorn. “Clearly you’ve heard that Double Abby loves unicorns.”

“I’ve, like, noticed she has them on her notebooks, some clothes, and a lot of accessories.”

“I guess that, like, gave it away?”

“I wish other people I know were as easy to choose gifts for.”

“Well, you’ve aced it for Double Abby and me,” Kelly assured her, nodding and smiling as if to admit her own quandaries in selecting gifts. “And my Knight-in-Shining-Armor gets a prominent place in my bedroom,” she promised.

“Your real one will come charging into your life someday,” predicted Rhonda. “Just who, when, and how will surprise you.”

“Well, I never imagined you with Jimmy Pickering.”

“I never imagined myself with him, either, but he really knows how to treat a lady and—and he makes me laugh!”

“You have yourself a winner, then?”

“Think so,” said Rhonda sighing in relief. “I think so!”

The five girls came out of Billings Square, laden with their bags and boxes from shopping through the early afternoon. Debbi carried a large, plush toy unicorn, and Holly, a cuddly toy dog. Valerie carried a big shopping bag that concealed an eighteen-inch (46 cm) doll, while Teri and Alice both held on to plastic balloons. The girls maneuvered the spoils of their Shopping War as best they could. Alice managed to wave down a minivan taxi for them.

“Where to?” asked the driver.

“Saint Luke’s Hospital,” Alice told him. “I think we all can fit.”

“Do you young ladies need any help with your bags?”

“No, thank you, sir,” Alice assured him, smiling. “We’ve managed all afternoon.”

The cabbie grinned back at her. “Just thought I’d offer,” he said.

“And we appreciate it,” continued Alice. “But it’s all easier than it looks.”

The cab ride took about fifteen minutes, turning back toward the residential and community college area of town.

“Eighteen seventy,” announced the driver as he turned the meter of in the waiting lane at Saint Luke’s.

“Five bucks apiece everyone,” Valerie levied from the girls. Each dug into her purse for a five-dollar bill. Alice collected and added to them her own, passing twenty-five dollars to the driver. “Keep the change,” Valerie told him.

“Thank you, ladies,” offered the driver, noting that the tip was larger than normal as the ladies cleared out of his vehicle with their belongings. “That’s generous!”

Before leaving, Valerie knocked on the cabbie’s window and he lowered it. “You gotta card? We’ll all need a ride home later.”

The driver smiled at the young woman as he took a business card from a little tray next to his seat. “Tell ’em you need a van an’ ask if Number Thirty-Eight is available,” he instructed her. “You’re bein’ really nice to me.”

“I might be a rich girl now, but Daddy drove a cab to pay for college when I was still little,” Valerie admitted sotto voce. “If I mistreated a cabbie, he and Mom’d absolutely kick my butt and rightly so.”

“So, what’s your dad do now?”

“He’s a lawyer.”

“So a cabbie went to law school?”

“Uh-huh! And if it’s for a case related to driving a taxi, he’ll even represent drivers pro bono.”

“Pro bono?” the driver looked at her inquisitively.

“No charge. He’ll take on the case for the public good.”

“What’s your papa’s name?” the driver asked getting his pen.

“David Schmidt,” she replied.

“Could I get a ’phone number for ’im?”

“Wait a sec—,” said Valerie rummaging through her purse. She handed the driver a card. “I always like to keep two or three of Daddy’s business cards in my purse—just in case!”

The driver looked at it, briefly noted its information, and put it into his shirt pocket. “Well, thank you again for doing business with me,” he said. “Call me if you need a cab.”

With that, Valerie ran to catch up with her friends as someone escorting a woman in a wheelchair flagged the taxi down.

Zoë paused at the curtain of the changing room. “Are you decent, Billie?”

He pulled the pink belt of the terrycloth robe tight around his waist. The robe was really too short for him, or so he thought. It barely covered his butt and he was afraid of exposing the panty underneath. He also wore a pair of pink slippers on his feet. Overall, he felt rather vulnerable as undressed as he was. “Not really,” he replied.

Not wishing to risk scaring the boy away, Zoë clarified her question. “Do you have your robe on?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming in, then.”

Billy sat back in a chair, cowering as he held the robe tightly closed.

“So, have you thought about what kind of hairstyle you want?” Zoë asked him.

“No, I don’t know anything about it,” he admitted. “I’ve never needed to until now. I’ve always worn my hair long ’coz it’s cool.”

“Yes, but obviously, you don’t take care of it very well,” the beautician concluded after a brief examination. “You have tangles and split ends all over it. Don’t you ever use any conditioner?”

“Like I said, I don’t know anything about it.”

“Apparently not!” Zoë concurred, almost despairing at the task before her. “Please, work with me here. Don’t you have any idea what kind of a hairstyle you’d like?”

“This whole thing isn’t even my idea, really,” Billy dismissed. “I’m just going to school as a girl Monday. So whatever you do, I need to look like a guy again the next day.”

Zoë looked at Billie’s hair again, this time to imagine what she might do with it. The hairstyle would have to let him pass not only as a girl but also as a boy. This was not anything that she’d ever tried before. Maybe Maxine knew how? Zoë’d have to ask.

Jenny Chang had invited Jeff, Mark, and Melinda to join her for lunch at Uncle Li’s Chinese Restaurant. They all sat together at Jenny’s family table, because the restaurateur was her own Uncle Li. She had opened up her laptop computer while waiting for their lunch to be served. The topic of conversation was a certain video recording of her new boyfriend in English class.

“So where d’ya think he learned that?” Melinda wondered. “I mean, if you had just shown me this without telling me who it is, I’d have thought, like, she was a new girl in school. I’d never have guessed she was Brandon. I’m friends with his sister, so I’ve, like, seen ’im around, but this blows my mind!”

“I’ve sit next to him in lab every day since school began and watched every move he makes,” admitted Jenny. “And I’ve never seen him do anything or say anything even to suggest that he could look and act and talk like a real girl.”

“It’s almost like he’s a method actor,” suggested Melinda.

“Wouldn’t that be ‘method actress’?” Mark quipped.

“No—Brandon’s the actor,” clarified Jenny. “Brandi is his role. He’s playing her.”

“What’s a method actor, anyway?” Jeff asked.

“A method actor continues to play the role, even offstage, like twenty-four and seven until the production ends,” explained Melinda. “The actor lives like he really is the character in daily life.”

“Then I’d say Brandon wasn’t like a method actor since he only did it for one day,” contended Mark. “And not even the whole day—at least I don’t think so.”

Jeff smiled across the table at his buddy. Melinda followed with her own smile to suggest that she was taking her boyfriend’s remark as a challenge to be dealt with later. Mark had begun to think for himself since they’d been dating. She liked it that way.

“So, that’s what encouraged you to make your move on Brandon?” Melinda asked Jenny.

“Pretty much,” she confirmed. “He’s, like, super smart and seeing how cute he looked in that dress, well, I decided not to wait any longer. Mom says sometimes a girl’s gotta go after what—or whom—she wants.”

“That’s how I got Mark,” recounted Melinda as she interlaced her fingers with his. “But is it really important to you for him to dress like a girl?”

“Omigosh, no!” Jenny denied. “But that he was willing to do it and then did it so well tells me a lot more about him than was visible on the surface.”

“Well, me and Mark ’ve known ’im like forever and we never seen ’im do anything the least bit girlish,” added Jeff. “But that video is crazy! Where did he learn that?”

“Prob’ly by watching us,” suggested Melinda. “He’s learned those moves from every girl he’s ever seen.”

“Everyone else may think he’s nerdy,” remarked Jenny, nodding her accord as a waitress carted their food over to them. “But I think he’s attentive and thoughtful. If that’s nerdy, I’ll take a nerd over other guys any day.”

“Who had the Buddha’s Delight?” asked the waitress.

“I did,” confirmed Jenny.

“The Veggie Mu-shu?”

“That’s mine,” said Melinda.

Kelly was sitting up in her hospital bed reading her Spanish textbook when the other five of her circle blew into her room like a sudden wind. Holly entered first, carrying the plush, toy puppy, followed by Teri, Valerie, Debbi, and Alice.

“Hi there, Kelly! How ya feeling? Hey, Kelly! How are you, Kelly? Good to see you’re up and about!” greeted the visiting girls, respectively, yet almost simultaneously.

Kelly’s friends swarmed her with hugs and kisses. “Careful!” Kelly warned them. “Watch the wrist!” Awkwardly, each girl displayed an appropriate degree of affection for their friend, somehow without aggravating Kelly’s injury.

“We thought that you might need a cuddle toy,” announced Holly, “so here’s a cute, plush puppy!”

“Well, thanks!” Kelly offered. “You really didn’t have to, though. Mom brought Benny the Bear in and I woke up cuddling him. But he could still use a new roommate.”

Meanwhile, Teri looked to affix a plastic balloon labeled “Get Well Soon!” somewhere. She had thought to tie it to Kelly’s wrist, but the one was broken and she didn’t want to impede the other.

“Just attach it to the wheelchair,” Kelly told her when she saw what Teri was trying to do. “I’m not allowed to go walking right now, so that’s how I can take it along.”

“Why can’t you go walking?” Holly inquired. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Liability issues,” answered Valerie. “There’s a risk that a patient could fall and aggravate an existing injury.”

“Uh-huh,” affirmed Kelly nodding. “They wheel me everywhere since I can’t steer safely with just one hand.”

“So, when are you going home?” Valerie asked Kelly.

“Tomorrow morning, I think,” she answered.

“Two nights just for a broken wrist?” Alice followed up.

“Doctor MacDonald was worried I might have internal injuries that didn’t show up ’til later,” explained the injured cheerleader. “He had me stay for observation. Even though Double Abby took the worst of it, I still got hit hard.”

“We all hope you’re alright after what happened,” encouraged Debbi. “Will you be back at school Monday?”

“I should be,” assured Kelly. “Coach Brenda wants to meet with me later today to help her find a substitute for Double Abby. She’s clearly going to be out of action for a while—two or three months, maybe even longer.”

“What were her injuries?” Holly asked. “I can’t remember them all.”

“Concussion, a broken arm, a leg broken in two places, three broken ribs, and a ruptured spleen,” Kelly enumerated her teammate’s injuries. “She’s looking at no less than eight to ten weeks to heal and, at the very least, a couple weeks of physical therapy after that.”

“So we’re talking about a significant time before Abby’s back to normal, then,” observed Alice. “That’s likely to interfere with her studies.”

“That had crossed my mind,” replied Kelly. “I’ve been wondering how we might help her.”

“We could organize a study group to meet with her here,” suggested Alice. “We could also set up something for her studies online.”

“But she’s gonna have trouble using a keyboard,” observed Kelly, “at least until her arm heals. I’m finding it difficult with a broken wrist, myself.”

“We could ask for volunteers to work the keyboard for her,” proposed Valerie.

“I’m sure that the other cheerleaders will be eager to help her out,” Kelly surmised. “I think it’s important to have as many of us who can keep visiting her so she won’t feel isolated.”

“But not just cheerleaders,” added Debbi. “We should visit, too.”

“Absolutely,” commented Alice. “Otherwise, she may begin to feel isolated. She’s gonna be alone in her room most of the time as it is.”

“That’s why we came today,” Holly announced. “Even if she’s not awake yet, she’ll know we came.”

“That’s why we got her a great, big plush unicorn,” explained Debbi. “It’s her favorite theme.”

“I know,” affirmed Kelly. “Rhonda Davies came by earlier. She brought a figurine to give her. Look at what she gave me…”

She took the lid of the satin-covered gift box off to show the mounted knight to her friends. “Whaddya think?”

“It’s exquisite!” Alice declared and beckoned to examine it more closely. She gently lifted it from the box and noticed the distinctive trademark on the bottom. “Omigosh!” exclaimed Alice. “It’s a Lladró!” So Rhonda Davies must have some real money, she quietly concluded.

“A Lladró? Are you kidding me?” Kelly asked, almost shocked. “How can you tell?”

“Look at the bottom,” Alice directed her. “That’s Lladró’s mark—no mistaking it! Your passing up Homecoming Princess must’ve meant a whole lot more to her than any of us realized.” She handed the figurine back to Kelly who looked at the mark on its bottom, not having done so earlier.

Kelly also recognized the trademark, as her mother had collected a few pieces. But now the girl had one of her very own. Still, she did not know how valuable some of the figurines by Lladró® were.

“We got, like, a gift for Brandon, too,” Valerie remarked as she pulled the large box from her shopping bag. “Take a look!”

“Omigosh!” Kelly squealed when she saw the big doll dressed in a cheerleader’s uniform, complete with matching pennant, pom-poms, and megaphone. “That’s darling! I have got to see Brandon’s face when you give it to him! Who found that, anyway?”

“That was all Val’s doing,” said Debbi.

“But why the cheer uniform?” Kelly asked Valerie.

“Why not? I think it’s especially cute,” replied Valerie with a giggle. “So then, who do we visit next, Brandon or Abby?”

“Let’s find out,” suggested Kelly as she pressed her call button. Before anyone else said anything, Nurse Fran was at the door.

“Looks like a big party in here,” the nurse remarked. “What-cha need, Kelly?”

“Is Brandon free for a visit from us?”

“No, he’s talking with his doctor right now. She just went in, so they may be awhile.”

“Then could you take me down to see Abby again? We wanna check in on her and leave a gift and cards and a balloon for her.”

“Well, I would think that would be alright, except there are so many of you. Let’s go downstairs and ask the charge nurse.”

“Brandon, I don’t especially like prescribing medication like this to teenagers,” Dr. Windham warned her young patient. “But your symptoms were severe enough that you may really need them.”

“What is it?” Brandon asked her.

“Alprazolam,” she told him. “It’s a powerful drug and I want you to understand how to use it safely. Only take it if you’re having a panic attack or feel one coming on.

“First, if you feel any panic coming on, try the breathing and relaxing exercises that we practiced. If that calms you down, it’s better than taking the pills, so don’t take them if you don’t have to.

“But if the panic is still coming on, take one pill and give it some time to work. If you’re still feeling panicky after half an hour, then take a second pill.

“If a panic attack hits so suddenly that you didn’t feel it coming on, then take two right away. But never take more than two. If two won’t do, then call for help.

“Any time you need to use these, tell your school nurse, your parents, or me immediately afterwards.”

“Does that mean I gotta carry the pills with me all the time?” Brandon asked her.

“Yes,” affirmed Dr. Windham. “And here’s how I’d like to arrange this. I’m prescribing these in blister packs. Always carry two pills and a copy of your prescription with you in case of an emergency. Also, take one card of pills for your school nurse to keep in the locked medicine cabinet there with a copy of your prescription. Keep the rest at home.”

“So then I’ll always have some at home, some at school, and a dose with me,” he summarized his psychiatrist’s orders.

“And you need always to keep that copy of your prescription with you,” she emphasized. “Remember, this is a controlled substance. Don’t give it to anyone else and especially don’t try to sell it. ’Cause it’s major bad if you do!”

“Then should I have it at all?”

“Like I said, Brandon, I don’t like to give this to anyone your age, but your panic attack yesterday morning was too severe not to prescribe you something for a sudden attack. So, your parents and I discussed it and we agreed that you’re both smart enough and mature enough to handle the drug responsibly. This drug is powerful and it should work for you. The danger is in using it too often and for too long. I won’t let you have more than what I think you can get by with. If it turns out that you need something to take every day, it won’t be alprazolam. But let’s not go there just now.”

Brandon thought a moment. “Then I guess I should take it to the school nurse on Monday?”

“I can’t think of any reason for you to wait,” replied his psychiatrist. “And do have her call me to confirm that you’ve given her your supply for safekeeping.”

“So, are there any pills I gotta take for Asperger’s Syndrome?”

“Not right now,” replied Dr. Windham. “You haven’t shown any symptoms of attention deficit or hyperactivity, so there’s no need for anything there, at least not yet. There may be other symptoms to show later that might indicate other meds. For now, we have to wait and see.”

“The room’s really not big enough for all of you to go in there at the same time,” the duty nurse told them. “Besides, she’s unconscious, so she can’t talk to you, anyway.”

“We just wanted to visit and leave our get-well cards and a gift for Abby,” pled Valerie. Debbi held the large unicorn up for the nurse to see, Teri standing behind her with a plastic balloon. Valerie continued, “Please? At least she can know we thought of her when she wakes up.”

“Alright, then!” the nurse sighed, not wishing to seem unreasonable or even ill-spirited. “But no more than two of you at a time in there with her. And keep it brief.”

“What’s her problem?” Teri whispered to Alice.

“Nothing, really,” Alice answered her. “Protecting Abby from too much commotion is just part of her job.”

Teri went in and tied the balloon string to a bedrail while Debbi brought in the big plush unicorn to put under Abby’s unbroken right arm. They tarried briefly with their badly injured classmate, placed their get-well cards on Abby’s nightstand, then allowed Valerie and Holly to visit with her next. Valerie noticed the little Lladró® unicorn sitting on the nightstand next to Abby’s bed, while Holly held Abby’s right hand and cried for a moment. They also left their get-well cards for her on the nightstand.

After Valerie and Holly came out, Alice wheeled Kelly into her friend’s room and they spent a moment watching over her. They both noticed her Lladró® unicorn as well as the big plush one under Abby’s arm. Alice then added hers to the accumulating stack of get-well cards already on the nightstand before kissing Abby on the cheek.

“Y’know, Kelly,” Alice addressed her friend, “I think we should invite Abby into our circle, too.”

“You’re right,” affirmed Kelly nodding in agreement. “Why didn’t we think to include her before?”

“We can be real bitches sometimes,” concluded Alice. “We need to work on being less like that.”

“Agreed,” conceded Kelly. “That’s what Doctor Van de Meer was trying to tell us Thursday morning.”

“You’re right, Kelly,” Debbi concurred. “Double Abby is the kinda girl we already should’ve invited in.”

“Sometimes we’re so caught up in our own little group that we miss seeing other people,” observed Holly.

“But we’re trying to include others,” Teri asserted to her friends.

“No, Holly’s right,” Alice followed up. “All we’ve really done is to seek one or two others just like ourselves. Do we always need to be so exclusive? Is that what you wanted to say, Holly?”

“Yes, it was,” answered Holly. “You just said it clearer than me.”

“Not really,” Kelly assured Holly. “What you said was perfectly clear to anyone who’d listen. You always speak from your heart, girl. We need you to keep doing that.” Kelly felt tingly as she looked into Holly’s eyes. Unable to fold her arms to hide her usual body language, she had to satisfy herself by thrusting her right hand into the sling holding her left arm. But now she understood why she was so attracted to Holly: the girl was sweet and kind, possessing an innocent simplicity in her views of the world. Was that why Kelly had also liked Brandon? Was he indeed clueless, or did he just live in a simpler world than she understood?

While Zoë had been busy styling Billy’s—or Billie’s—hair, another girl, Cheri, had been giving him a very feminine manicure and pedicure to go along with it. He’d have been much less anxious if it weren’t for all the giggling that continued back and forth between the hair stylist and the nail technician. But then, that was the idea. They didn’t get to do this to guys very often, so they had to have their fun while he was there.

Billy hadn’t quite understood fully until now that he’d yielded Nancy control of his life for a few days. But that had been implicit when he’d asked her for help. Being “cool” wasn’t necessarily what he’d thought. He ran through his mind what his actions had been and wondered how he’d miscalculated his friends’ and classmates’ reaction to skipping Gender-Bender Day. That was why he’d called his sister and somehow this exercise should help him understand. If “cool” wasn’t what he’d thought, then what was it?

What good were school traditions anyway? Wearing girls’ things? Why? For some reason it had been a tradition. But why did bucking it make him “uncool”? It’s just clothes, after all.

“Hi there, Billie!” Nancy startled him, prompting giggles from Zoë and Cheri. “So, how are you dealing with it?” his sister asked him.

“How do you think I’m dealing with it?” He replied. “Why are you doing this? Why am I doing it? None of it makes sense to me.”

“You might not believe this, but the treatment you’re getting right now,” she explained to her younger brother, “we ladies regard as a pleasure. When you’re dating a girl, if you treat her to an afternoon like this, she’ll be thrilled.”

“You kidding me?” Billy asked, incredulous.

“Oh, you’d better believe it, Billy-Boy!” Zoë interjected. “Unless she’s a confirmed tomboy, there’s nothing she’d enjoy like a complete spa-day. And even a tomboy might not turn it down.”

“I just don’t understand how girls think,” complained Billy.

“We know you don’t, Little Bro,” Nancy reminded him. “That’s kinda like the point of all this.”

What frightened Brandon was that the entire troupe came into his room, squealing all at once. He was not surprised that Kelly would visit him; in fact, he might have been disappointed if she hadn’t. Nor did Alice seem out of character showing up at his bedside. But he didn’t expect the entire Swarm to descend for a group visit.

“Hi, Brandon!” Kelly announced. “How are you today?”

“Alright, even if suddenly I seem overwhelmed,” he answered. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d look in on one of our favorite classmates,” Valerie explained. “Besides, if we visited both Kelly and Double Abby without looking in on you, that would’ve been rude, don’t you think?”

“Well, I guess I would’ve felt slighted if you had,” conceded Brandon, still suspicious of any hidden agenda behind their visit. “Anyway, you are here now and I appreciate your visit.”

“We have a gift for you,” declared Valerie, withdrawing the box with the eighteen-inch (46 cm) cheerleader doll from her shopping bag. “In honor of your achievement Wednesday as Brandi, we got you this. After all, every girl should have a doll.”

Brandon just sighed before grinning at the girls. Now was the time to bow to the absurdity of the situation. “She’s a nice doll,” he acknowledged. “I’ll take good care of her.” They all giggled at his promise.

“Brandon, now that you’ve accepted the doll, we’ve agreed not to tease you about being girlish anymore,” said Valerie on behalf of the group. “We took it too far. We’re sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said. They had apologized to him, so he needed to be gracious. “It’s not so bad if you remember I’m still just a guy going along with a school tradition.”

“And we think a lot of you for that,” added Alice. “I respect you for pulling it off so well. You showed great acting ability.”

“I think we got so pushy about it because your act was so amazing we wanted to see it again,” Debbi explained. “You had so many of the details down.”

“To do that you had to be paying attention to girls as people, not just as sex objects,” asserted Alice. “That makes you a different kinda guy, one we like.”

“Alright, girls,” Brandon addressed them. “I’ll admit dressing up like you for a day was fun. But I am a guy. So get over it!”

“But we’d like Brandi to appear at the Hallowe’en Dance,” pled Debbi.

“No,” said Brandon, shaking his head.

“Maybe the Powder Puff—?” Kelly began to ask.

“No!” Brandon refused, folding his arms in defiance.

“But Brandon—!” Valerie tried to challenge him.

“No!” he declared, pointing his right index finger at Valerie, then sweeping it around the room. Indeed, a hush had settled in his room and he nodded a couple of times to acknowledge the silence.

“Hmm?” Brandon vocalized before speaking again. “My game, my rules!”

Alice grinned at him. « Touché! » she replied nodding.

He looked at the cheerleader doll that they’d presented him and smiled. Then, he folded his arms around it, almost as if hugging the doll. He looked around at everyone before settling his focus on Valerie. “Thanks to all of you for the doll,” he offered them. “It’s an appropriate and thoughtful gift.”

Outside Brandon’s room, a clinical psychologist and a psychiatrist listened intently to a complex example of group dynamics unfolding.

“But zat cannot be,” objected Dr. Devereaux. “Zat is not ze Asperger’s type behavieur.”

Dr. Windham smiled wryly and raised an eyebrow. “I told you this boy would be interesting,” she reminded her colleague. “Just when you think he’s about to withdraw into his shell, he suddenly asserts himself, here taking command of the social dynamics.”

“Yet until now, his testing, his interviews, his behavieur, all are consistent wiss ze Autism Spectrum Disorder. You know him longer zan I. Why you sink he change now?”

The psychiatrist puzzled over it for a moment. Why—how could an Asperger’s patient suddenly gain control in such a circumstance? Then she remembered why Brandon came to the hospital—to the ER—to begin with: anxiety, a panic attack!

« Mon ami, il s’agit de l’instincte primale, » Teri Windham replied to her longtime colleague.

« C’est le peur? »

« Oui! »

Dr. Devereaux folded his arms, nodding a few times before uttering: « D’accord! »

“He’s been in such fear of that group of girls taking control of his life, that he’s responded by asserting control, as if he were the alpha-male of his tribe,” observed Dr. Windham.

“Euh, since zere are no ozer boys, he is ze alpha-male of ze tribe,” affirmed Dr. Devereaux. “But as I am not ze sociologue nor ze anthropologue, I do not wish to analyse from such a viewpoint. Zat ze strong fear may motivate him could explain his assertion, yet his facilité of ze dynamiques sociales seem too expert. Ze Asperger’s patient cannot develop such expertise social zat we see.”

“Like any other Asperger’s patient, Brandon has topics of passionate interest. The first, which has been known for quite some time, is mathematics, as was confirmed in the tests and interviews,” reviewed Dr. Windham. “However, only now has another such topic emerged for Brandon. He’s actually an intense observer of human behavior. He watches and learns what these behaviors are, although he’s not imitated these until very recently. We may have just witnessed the second use of his secretly learned behaviors.”

“So, what was ze first?”

“Blaise, I have a video that you must see.”

Brandon sat in the passenger seat in a pensive, sullen mood. He clutched the rugged, nylon bag containing his laptop to his chest.

“Penny for your thoughts, son,” said his mother as she checked the rearview mirror before backing out of her parking space.

“Why did she hafta be hurt so bad?”

“The impact from those two big players was tremendous,” explained Elizabeth. “If they had hit her at a slightly different angle, her injuries could’ve been even more severe.”

“Double Abby looks just so—so helpless lying there. I feel guilty because there’s nothing I can do to help her.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, son! You may have an opportunity to help her out yet.”

“Well, I’m glad Kelly wasn’t injured too badly,” remarked Brandon. “She was just trying to protect Double Abby.”

“That was a completely selfless act,” emphasized his mother. “Saving her friend became more important to Kelly at that moment than even her own safety.”

“But then she teases me until I can’t take it anymore,” complained Brandon. “I’m pretty sure her teasing was a cause of my panic attacks.”

“Brandon, Kelly teases you because she likes you,” his mother declared. “She always has.”

“And you always say that,” retorted the boy. “But you’re not whom she embarrasses in front of everyone.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Mom, it’s been that bad for a long time. I told Doctor Windham that I’m frightened of her.”

“Frightened of Kelly?” Elizabeth asked, her voice underscoring disbelief.

“Yeah, Mom,” affirmed Brandon. “She and her friends are why I had that panic attack yesterday morning. They think I’m transgendered and told me I’m really a girl and wanted me to start dressing like one at school every day.”

“But how did they cause the panic attack?”

“In the nightmare, Kelly and her friends did something to get me elected Homecoming Princess. Next, they took me to the mall and made me get a makeover and a formal dress. Then they made Jeff take me to the game, where the announcer told everyone I was the first boy to be chosen Homecoming Princess. That’s when I woke up with the panic attack.”

Elizabeth thought a moment about what her son had just told her. “I don’t think that Kelly and her friends meant you any harm. However, she is the kinda girl who tends to get carried away by her own exuberance. She and her friends may mean well but lack needed wisdom.”

“But I certainly got harmed this time.”

“I know, son. I know,” she assured him. “But how much of what harmed you was what they did, and how much was your own reaction?”

“Môm! Those girls were chasing me around, trying to get me to wear dresses!”

“Now, Brandon, so let’s assume that they chase you with their dresses. Can they make you wear one?”

He thought for a moment. “Not unless they got me somewhere alone and tore my clothes off me.”

“Is that likely?”

“Not really.”

“So what other way could they get you into a dress?”

Now Brandon understood where his mom was taking their dialogue. “I’d hafta agree to put it on.”

“And can they make you agree to it?”

“No, I guess not,” said Brandon, a little more relaxed. “And I demonstrated as much when they came to see me.”

“Sounds to me like you have a better handle on the situation than you thought, now that you know your response is your decision,” his mom assured him, smiling as she began to merge into the neighboring lane of traffic.