---

 
Author's Note: Hi, This is the second story I've ever written. It's still incomplete. I hope you like it.

Feel free to archive or otherwise distribute, provided it (and this preamble) is unedited and no fee is charged for access. This story may not be distributed from any site that charges money, is members-only, or uses that ridiculous "adult check" thing (or any similar system).

All rights reserved by the author, who can be contacted at: [email protected] ~Becky

Image Credit: Picture purchased and licensed for use from 123RF.com Stock Photography.

The model(s) in this image is in / and are no way connected with this story nor supports nor conveys the issues and situations brought up within the story. The model(s) use is solely used for the representation of looks of the main character(s) of this particular story. ~Sephrena
 

---

 
Chapter 1.  Saturday
 
 
"You have great skin," Marcia said to me when the song ended. I looked over at her quizzically. We'd been lying on her living room floor listening to a CD, both a little exhausted from her attempts to teach me to dance earlier in the afternoon, and although I'd been staring at the ceiling while the song was playing she'd obviously been looking me over. I blushed.

"You're so lucky," she continued. I spend all my time cleaning mine and I still can't get it to look like that. And you're a boy."

It wasn't like Marcia Wilson was the ugliest girl in the neighborhood. She'd had about three pimples the whole time I'd known her. That was about three years, since Marcia had moved in next door. I was twelve then, she was fourteen, and at first it seemed like we had nothing in common. I was a kid compared to her worldly adolescence. Her brother Rob was a year older than me, but he was a jock and he regarded me with some disdain. He and I definitely had less in common.

I thought Marcia was smart and beautiful - more so as she got older. Her mother and my mother became friends, and so from time to time one or the other of us would go next door to find our moms and pass on phone messages or tell them we were going out or something while our mothers yakked half the day. That was when Marcia and I discovered we had similar tastes in music, and started swapping CDs and tapes and spending time together sharing whatever either of us had bought recently.

Not that I bought anything; it was all Marcia's contribution. Mom and I weren't doing too well since Dad had left, and even though he still sent some money I got the impression from Mom that it was irregular and really only barely covered the mortgage, and when she got retrenched from her job her savings were pretty much all we had to go on. Marcia's parents were rich, or so it seemed to me. Their house was easily the biggest in the neighborhood. It seemed Mrs. Wilson was always off shopping, sometimes taking Marcia with her and returning with more new clothes than I'd ever seen. Marcia's clothes wouldn't fit into the closet in her room. She had so many they also filled the huge closet in the spare bedroom they had. Even her brother Rob had more clothes than I'd ever seen, which was pretty funny for a guy his age. From what I could tell Mrs. Wilson was worse, Marcia told me the walk-in closet in her parents' room had barely any room for her father's things at all.

"Well," I said, "I'm younger than you, I guess my skin will get worse in a year or so." I decided to change the subject and got up to put on the new Bjork CD, one of Marcia's favorites. I was a bit sensitive about the fact that I hadn't really reached puberty yet. Fine hair had only just begun to show on my legs and around my genitals, but that was about all that had happened. Mom bought me a razor for my fifteenth birthday but I think that was more a symbolic thing or something, I hadn't needed to use it yet. My skin was, as Marcia had said a few moments ago, smooth as a five year old's.

Strangely enough I wasn't really in a hurry to go through all the changes that were in store for me. I had noticed in the locker rooms at school the things that had happened to the other guys in my year, and some of them seemed pretty scary, or at least uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine myself ever looking like that, though I knew I eventually would. I guessed that when it happened the guys would start being a little kinder to me and not tease me about my size and stuff so much. I didn't really get on too well with many of them, or really any of them - in fact Marcia was easily my best friend even if she did come up with some harebrained schemes that sometimes got us both into trouble.

Mom had commented a couple of times over the last year or so that I didn't seem terribly happy. She was pretty perceptive. I hadn't really been able to figure it out myself, but every now and again I wondered why it was that life just didn't feel right. It wasn't just school, it was... well, a lot of stuff. Lack of confidence or something I guessed. I didn't say anything to Mom about these feelings though, and I never told her how much I hated school. I never liked to tell her stuff that would worry her.
 
 

 
Chapter 2.  Saturday Morning
 
 
The next Saturday Marcia was over at my place where I was taping her latest CD purchases and she did it again. "You know, Chris, you're going to have to get your hair cut soon, it's starting to frizz at the ends and pretty soon it'll be as long as mine"

"Yeah, right," I said dismissively. My mom cut my hair the last time for my cousin Beth's wedding cause she couldn't afford to send me to someone, and she did such a terrible job I had vowed never to let her do it again. Because of the bad cut in the first place it was pretty much a shaggy mess eight months later, and did need a trim, but there wasn't much we could do about it short of me putting myself at her mercy again. I was taking a bit of ribbing at school about looking like Cousin It.

"Why don't you get it cut?" she asked.

"Well, if you must know, it's because I can't afford it," I said.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize things were that bad."

"It's okay, forget it."

"Sorry. It's just that you've actually got really beautiful hair, it would look great if you tidied it up a little," Marcia said. Then, with that same look she'd given me the week before, she said "Why don't you let me cut it?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. You'll do a worse job than my mom did," I snorted.

"Well, I wouldn't have to take much off it, you know, not a proper cut or style or anything, just even it up and take off the split ends and stuff." I obviously still looked doubtful, because she continued. "I did my friend Joanie's a few weeks ago, you know it was just a matter of about a half inch off in a straight line at the back, it was easy."

For some insane reason I suddenly thought, "What the hell?" I mean, I was eventually going to get it cut a lot shorter anyway, so if she just cut it a little I figured I could have any mistakes she made cut out later. And if she really screwed it up my mom would have to send me to a professional rather than risk making it worse herself. Which would be okay, I was kind of ready for short hair again. Life had been kind of boring lately, so taking a small risk like that seemed okay.

"Just even the ends up, right?" I said.

"Yes, I promise."

Pretty soon I was sitting on a stool in her bathroom. Her brother Rob was out with his new girlfriend, Tanya, and Marcia's folks were off shopping for a new car, so we had the place to ourselves. I sat there waiting for her to begin.

"Take off your shirt," Marcia said.

"Why? You're cutting the hair on my head, right, not my chest!" I spluttered.

"You don't have any hair on your chest," she said. I blushed, and she said apologetically "It's to stop the hair getting caught on your shirt and making you itch. I'll get a t-shirt for you if you're worried about getting cold, you can wear that instead and I'll just wash it when we're done."

She left and came back in with a t-shirt. I took off my shirt and pulled the one Marcia gave me over my head. It was one of those scoop-neck things with short capped sleeves, obviously a girl's top instead of a proper t-shirt.

"Very funny," I said. "I guess one of Rob's was out of the question?"

It did look pretty silly, and Marcia grinned. "I don't go into Rob's room unless I have too, he's funny about it. It's okay, it's only for a while." She straightened my head so I faced her and said "Anyway, you look kind of cute."

"Don't push your luck," I said.

Marcia combed my hair out and began trimming the ends. At first I couldn't see what she was doing because of the hair hanging over my eyes, but it didn't seem like she was cutting very much. Then she started spending a lot of time on the bits hanging around my face. Finally she finished and stood back. I turned, and saw past her to the mirror. Oh god, she'd given me bangs!

"That looks better," she said, obviously unaware that I could see what it looked like.

"Yeah, if I was aiming to look like Angela McKinnon," I snorted. Angela was a girl at school who was so Laura Ashley it was nauseating. "You'll have to cut the rest of it now." I looked at the mirror again. It was kind of weird, actually. I looked a lot like a younger version of my mom. I'd never noticed that before.

"What do you mean?" said Marcia, in what I assumed was an attempt at innocence.

"It's a girl's cut, Marcia. Cut the sides a bit and it won't look so bad." I started to reach for the scissors but she pulled them away.

"Well, I like it," Marcia smiled, as though assessing my hair for the first time. "Do me a favour, will you?"

"What? I'm not going anywhere or anything, okay? Not until you fix this."

"No, nothing like that. But you should wash it. I'll finish cutting it, but I'd just like to have some fun with it first, okay?" She had her best winning smile coming up, I could see the beginnings of it.

"Fun?" I said suspiciously.

"Oh, come on, it'll be great. Let me see how this can look."

What the hell. I went and took a quick shower and washed my hair as per Marcia's instructions. She handed me a bottle of conditioner with strict instructions that I was to leave it on for at least ten minutes before rinsing and applying a second conditioner. The stuff stank but I left it on as she asked. As I was drying myself off Marcia knocked on the door and handed me a robe to wear, something fluffy and white. The sleeves came down over my hands, but it felt great to wear. I came out and sat at her dressing table while she went to work.

After a bunch of gunk went into my hair she started to dry it, working it with her fingers, then began to use a curling iron to wrap it into really big curls. Halfway through she saw me looking at what she was doing in the mirror, so she grabbed the towel I had used and draped it across the mirror so I couldn't see. Before she got to drying off the hair over my eyes she stopped and pinned it back, and then I saw her coming at me with a pair of tweezers.

"No way!" I squeaked.

"It'll look completely natural, I promise. I'm just going to tidy them up a tiny bit. You don't want to look like a monobrow, do you?"

That was carrying things a bit far. My eyebrows hadn't thickened at all yet, in fact I think they were finer than hers. But as she bent over me I got a good view down the front of her shirt, and a whiff of her smell, a clean, sweet smell from whatever soap she used, and I succumbed. I didn't usually think of Marcia in a really sexual way, but all this attention from her was starting to have an effect on me. And it was all a little bit kinky, too, I thought, as I felt her tug at a few eyebrow hairs. I'd worn women's clothes before, when I was younger as a kind of joke when we got into the dress-up bin at school, but I'd never tried to look like a woman. As Marcia surveyed the results of her handiwork and went back to drying off my hair I began to wonder why it was that I wasn't objecting quite so much to what she was doing. Did this mean I was weird, or what?

She finished with my hair and stepped back to admire her work. I started to get up to reach for the towel and pull it from the mirror, but she put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. "Unh Unh" she said. "Not until I've finished."

"Aw, come on Marcia."

"Don't spoil it. It won't kill you to do this once. Besides, I think you like it."

I didn't say anything. She was right, and I couldn't lie to her, but I didn't want to admit it. I was starting to feel really weird. If this didn't mean I was queer, did it mean I was developing a crush on Marcia? I liked her and all that, but... She brushed some pinkish-brown powder over my face, applied a little eyeliner and mascara, then finally got me to purse my lips so she could put some lipstick on me.

"Ta da!" Marcia said, pulling the towel from the mirror.

I was shocked. I had expected to see me in makeup, but that wasn't how things looked at all. I looked like someone else. I looked older, but I looked like a girl. Like a young woman. A lot like my mom in the photo of her and Dad when they started dating that was still on the bookshelf in the living room at home.

"Pretty good, huh?" said Marcia.

I was still reeling. My head was framed in a mass of hair, big curls cascading down to my shoulders. It was a lot lighter than it had been, too. Blond. Blonde. Except for the lipstick I didn't really look like I was wearing makeup at all. In fact, I looked great. In the big fluffy bathrobe I realized with something of a shock that I looked pretty. I looked like the kind of girl I'd like to date.

"Uh, it's..." I really couldn't think of anything to say, and my voice trailed off.

"Yeah, you look good. Better than I look in that robe."

I raised my hand to my hair and patted it, then stopped, self-conscious that what I had just done was what a woman does with her hair.

"I thought it needed a little lightening," said Marcia.

"Will it change back?" I asked, suddenly anxious. What was I going to do at school on Monday? "Will it get darker when I wash it?"

"Not really, but if we cut it again people will just notice the change in length more than the colour, so don't worry about it." I must have looked unconvinced, because she shrugged and said "Time for the rest of it."

She strode over to the closet and began going through racks of clothes. "The subtle casual look," she said, as she pulled out a short black skirt and a pretty blue blouse. "Stand up," she commanded as she walked back to where I was sitting.

I did as she asked. She held the clothes up to me, as if assessing my size.

"You're looking kind of spacey, Chris," she said. "Lighten up"

"I'm okay," I said. "I was just kind of expecting to look a little different."

"Well, might as well go all the way, hey," she said, handing me the clothes. I stood there holding them stupidly as she sorted through a couple of drawers to find something else. Finally she handed me some lingerie and something else made of black nylon. "Put these on underneath."

I hesitated. Finally Marcia realized that I was waiting for her to leave the room before I changed.

"Oh, okay. Guess I wasn't thinking then. You really kinda look like a girl," she said. "Do you need any help with any of that?"

I looked at the clothes in my hands. How complicated could they be? Marcia stepped out of the room, then poked her head round the door to ask if I'd like a soda. I said sure and she went downstairs to get some while I undressed.

I took off the robe and picked up the underwear. It was just a bra and panties. I wondered briefly whether it was necessary to go to that length in this experiment, then looked at the chair on the other side of the room where I'd left my own clothes and realized that my own underwear had disappeared anyway. So I tried the panties on. They felt pretty good, actually. I was kind of surprised. I had thought maybe they'd be really uncomfortable, on account of having to hold a little extra in. They bulged a little at the front, though only a little. To make them more comfortable I adjusted myself, and tucked myself back into them.

I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror. That was too weird. I still looked like a girl, only one with absolutely no chest, like someone had taken a photo of a normal girl and then airbrushed out her breasts or something. I realized my body was still underdeveloped enough that I just looked immature rather than masculine. It was vaguely disconcerting, but somehow kind of interesting, too.

Then I looked at the bra. There hardly seemed much point, really, considering it wasn't going to be supporting anything, but I put my arms through the straps and did it up. That was surprisingly easy, too, and it didn't really feel that strange. I looked at the mirror again, and noticed that the bra cups protruded just enough to give the illusion - at a casual glance - that I had breasts. I pulled on the skirt, buttoned it at the side, then did up the blouse, with some difficulty until I realized all the buttons were on the wrong side. Well, the right side for a girl's blouse, but ...

Marcia came back into the room just as I was doing up the last of the buttons. "Wow," she said, handing me the soda. "That was a good choice. Blue is definitely your color."

I turned back to the mirror to look. Something was not quite right. Marcia came over holding the bits of black nylon, which I recognized as stockings now, and told me to put them on. They were solid black, and only came up to mid-thigh. I'd seen the style around a lot, so I knew that was how they were supposed to look. Marcia then came back over with a couple of flesh-colored bits of nylon, and I looked at her with some puzzlement. She bent over me and began to unbutton the top of my blouse. I sat rigid, wondering what was going on, but she scrunched the nylon up into two balls and placed them in the cups of the bra. "That's better," she said. "Not great, but it'll do for now." I looked at the mirror again and saw that whatever it was that hadn't been quite right was fixed now.

I should have been more wary of her words "for now," but as I looked at myself in the mirror again I wasn't thinking about too much except that I looked like someone completely different. I was a babe, there was no other way to put it. It was the strangest feeling, to be me, but to be someone I'd never met before.

"Well, what do you think?" Marcia asked. "Not bad for a quick makeover!"

"It's ... well, it's certainly different," I said, breaking into laughter. Marcia began to laugh, too.

"If you were really a girl, I'd be jealous" she said. "As it is I think you're pretty hot!"

I blushed, and looked at my feet.

"Oh yeah, shoes," said Marcia. She picked out a pair of low-heeled chunky shoes and got me to try them on. "How do they fit?"

Actually they fit very well, though they were slightly on the big side for me. "Try walking" said Marcia, and I did. The feeling of the skirt brushing against my legs was interesting, it made me feel very conscious of what I was wearing but it wasn't at all unpleasant. After I'd done two short trips across the room she gathered up the now empty soda cans and led me down the stairs. As we passed through the living space I was conscious that the huge windows to the street gave anyone outside a good look in at me, and I was suddenly acutely self-conscious. What if my mom looked across from our place?
 
 

 
Chapter 3.  Saturday Lunch Time
 
 
Marcia fixed us both some lunch, a light salad. Ordinarily she would have offered me more, I realized as I was eating. We began to chat about the dinner Marcia was planning to cook for some friends next Friday evening while her parents were away. Most of the kids at school would have just had a big, raucous party, but Marcia had decided she wanted to do something elegant, so she was holding a dinner party for her three best girlfriends from school and they were each inviting a boy. I had kind of hoped when she mentioned she was doing it that she might have asked me, but of course she was going to ask Mike, the captain of the football team who Marcia was quietly keen on.

As we talked, Marcia kept joking with me about how wonderful I looked, about how I looked much better than I did as a boy. At first it was kind of subtle, but then it started to get under my skin. Dammit, I was a boy, and I mightn't have been some muscle-clad jock like her brother but I wasn't a total failure at it. Things would change in a year or two, I knew they would. My hormones just hadn't got into action properly yet.

"So, come here often?" she asked jokingly.

"No, I'm the shy and retiring type," I said.

"Yeah, right," said Marcia. "The way you look, you'd be a big hit anywhere."

I wondered about that last comment. She wasn't thinking I was going outside like this, was she? That wasn't part of the deal.

"When are your parents due home?" I asked, suddenly conscious of the time.

"Oh, not until at least five," Marcia said. "Unless Dad gets impulsive and buys something sooner." I must have looked perturbed because she immediately added "but you know him, he researches everything to within an inch of its life"

"Well, I should get changed anyway," I said, standing up and taking our plates across to the dishwasher.

"Not so fast," said Marcia. As I turned around she was holding a camera. She opened the cover, aimed it at me, and squeezed the button. The flash dazzled me, then dazzled me again. As she took photo after photo I began striking poses. I did a particularly vampy look by the doorway to the living room, then Marcia had me lie on the rug near the fireplace and try to look sexy. "You do know how to look sexy, don't you?" she said, laughing.

I grabbed the camera from her and took a snap of her as she laughed, and then she grabbed it back from me and we began to wrestle to see who could get control of it. We were laughing and rolling on the floor when I suddenly became aware that someone had just walked through the room. Marcia sensed it, too, because she stopped attacking me and called out "Hello?"

Rob stuck his head back around through the door he'd just left through. "Hey Sis, you looked like you were busy so I didn't interrupt." He was being sarcastic. I always thought Rob acted like a jerk toward Marcia, but I guess she gave as good as she got.

"I thought you were out with Tanya."

"She had a headache. Can you believe it?" said Rob. Marcia exchanged glances with me, like "Of course she had a headache, wouldn't you?" I didn't respond, I was rigid with fear as I realized that Rob was going to have this little adventure of Marcia's and mine all over school by lunchtime Monday. Actually, make that tomorrow, he'd make a point of ringing everyone he knew just to tell them.

But Rob was still hanging in the doorway, looking at the two of us. Finally he said to Marcia "Well?"

"Well what?" she said.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"I thought you were too busy to stop and say hi," Marcia shot back quickly. "But you're right. This is Jenny. Jenny, my adorable brother Rob."

I couldn't believe it. He didn't recognize me? This was too much. Sure, we didn't see a lot of one another, but I lived next door! I looked different, but how different?

"Nice to meet you, Jenny" said Rob. All of a sudden I became aware of the way he was looking at me. I'd never been looked at that way before, and I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," I said, in what must have sounded a very flat voice. Rob looked momentarily disappointed, and then disappeared from the doorway again. Marcia and I heard him going up the stairs, and then finally could hold it no longer and burst out laughing. If he heard us he must have assumed we were laughing at something to do with him, because he didn't come back.

"That was great!' said Marcia

"That was weird!" I said. "Really. How dumb is your brother?"

Marcia kept laughing. "Chris, this has made my year."

"Speaking of which," I said, "What's with this name 'Jenny'?"

"It was just the first name that popped into my head. I don't know. I suppose it was a better choice than your real name."

We both laughed again. "He has to figure it out," I said. "Nobody can be that stupid."

"No, it makes sense," said Marcia. "His brain wasn't working. His first response when he saw you properly was to think sex."

I swallowed, not wanting to think about that.

"So he didn't figure that he knew you, he invented a whole new space for you in his head." She paused, then laughed again and added "The one marked 'babes'."

"I'm thinking this is getting a bit too strange," I said, suddenly anxious again. "I need to get changed, Marcia. Now."

"Well, I don't think you can do it here, with Rob in the house" said Marcia. She had a point. But I didn't want to hang around and give Rob a choice to see more of me. I said so to Marcia, and she agreed that he'd probably figure it out eventually if he had a chance to talk to me.

"We could go out," said Marcia.

"No way," I retorted. "Besides, he'll still be here when we come back."

"Well, if we stay here he's going to figure it out for sure, eventually. I mean, you look really different, but you still talk like Chris, and you move like a boy"

"So what do we do?"

"I think we should call Becky and see if you can change at her place."

I wasn't sure about that. Becky was a friend of Marcia's from school. She always seemed nice the few times I'd met her, but I really didn't know her too well and wasn't sure this was a way I wanted to present myself to her. But Marcia was up and at the phone. "It's busy," she said. "Well, at least that means she's home. Come on, let's get out of here"

Marcia went upstairs and returned with my clothes stuffed into a shopping bag, then ushered me out the door. "I told Rob we were headed to Becky's."

"So how are we getting there?"

"It's not so far, I figured we could walk. That's how I usually get there."

Walking. I started to feel strange the minute we stepped out the door. Rob might be dumb, but I was sure everyone else was going to see straight through me and see a guy in a skirt. What if a cop car cruised past as we were walking? I didn't want to spend a night in jail.

As we walked down the path to the street I was feeling like I was going to throw up, I was so nervous. Fortunately we turned left to go to Becky's so we didn't have to walk past the front of my house -- I don't think I could have done that under any circumstances.

I was starting to get kind of mad with Marcia. Whenever I let her talk me into a bit of "fun" things always went slightly wrong. This was just one more example, I guess. Here I was, in broad daylight, wearing a skirt down the street I lived in.

After about ten minutes of walking we turned into the main street. Santa Rosita is mostly an old town, and there's been a community effort to maintain the old buildings. So although there's a mall on the outskirts of town there's still a lot of stores and traffic in the centre of town too. Cars were cruising past us slowly as we walked, but the occasional shopper paid us no attention as we passed. Still, after a few moments Marcia looked across at me and made me stop walking. "You've got to learn to walk differently," she said. She explained that I was still moving like a guy; that women moved differently. I more or less knew what she was saying, I just hadn't thought about it. I was gonna argue with her that I was only gonna be dressed as a girl for a few more minutes, but I felt very self-conscious of myself out there on the street, so I did what she told me and we walked on, me swinging my arms a little more and standing a bit straighter. "That's much better," she said. It did feel better, actually.

Then Marcia stopped at the door to a little antique store. "What's up?" I said. "Let's go." But Marcia was looking at an old pair of earrings in a cabinet just inside the store.

"Quiet," she said, "or people will notice." I was agitated, but I did as she asked. As we walked on, she said "Chris, if you're gonna talk you have to make your voice a little musical, like girls do."

"Musical?"

"Yeah, less of a monotone." She demonstrated a sentence the way she would say it, then tried to imitate me, which cracked me up. "That's better, you're smiling again," Marcia said. "You haven't done that since we left the house." She made me try saying some things more 'musically' as we walked, corrected me when I got too sing-song, and eventually pronounced "that's better - still not exactly right, but much better."

I started to feel a little more confident. We'd walked past lots of Saturday afternoon shoppers, and none of them had stared at us. I'd had a couple of glances from a few guys, like the kind that Rob had given me, but it seemed they actually thought I was a girl. So I stopped panicking about everything, and as Marcia and I walked on and we began talking about the new Aaron Spelling show that had started the week before I began to forget that what I was doing was kind of freaky.

"I think you've got the voice thing down," Marcia said. That's when the car stopped next to us. Driving it was Mike, the guy Marcia was keen on. There was another guy in the passenger seat. I thought I'd seen him at school, but I wasn't sure.

"Hey, Marcia," Mike called.

We stopped walking. Marcia went over to the car, and I followed a few steps behind.

"What's happening?" Mike asked.

Marcia explained that we were just on our way over to Becky's place, and Mike suggested that they could drive us. I was trying to smile and shake my head 'no' at the same time, but Marcia wasn't paying too much attention to me anyway. She agreed, and opened the back door to the car. I hesitated before getting in -- I didn't know these guys, but I guess Marcia knew Mike well enough. I got in, trying to smooth my skirt under me as I sat down, to see Mike twisting around in the driver's seat to say hello. I could see him sizing me up in that same way I'd already experienced with the other men who'd looked at me.

"Uh, Mike, Paul, this is Jenny," said Marcia. She was still going along with it. That made sense, I guess. I knew she trusted Mike, but who knows how this Paul would have reacted to finding a boy in a skirt in the back of the car. I couldn't really see him properly, just the back of his head. He half twisted around and he and Mike said "Hi Jenny" almost in unison.

"Nice to meet you," I said, trying to keep my voice "musical" as Marcia had suggested. I had to admit it sounded better than the time I spoke to Rob. Marcia gave me a smile and a little nod of approval. We drove off, and Mike and Marcia did all the talking, about the two parties that were on tonight and which one was the better to go to. Very soon we were at Becky's, and as we thanked the boys and were climbing out of the car Mike said to Marcia, "so, tonight at 7.30?." Then Paul turned to me and said "How about you, Jenny? There's a few of us going to this party. Want to come along?"

I was about to say no when Marcia said "Cool. Why don't you pick us both up from my place?"

I was stunned. The boys pulled out of the drive and roared away as Marcia and I walked to the front door.

"What was that about?" I demanded.

"It was easier than making excuses. You don't have to come, I can say you had a headache or something. Anyway, it's not like it's a date or anything, it's just a bunch of us going to a party."

Marcia rang the doorbell. "Hey, do me a favor and wing it with Becky, okay? Then you can get changed."

I was still trying to work out why Marcia had included me in the evening's plans. There was no way that I'd be invited, or welcome, as Chris. Everyone at the party would be older than me, and they'd be part of the inner circle that surrounded the football team and the girls that dated them. Anyone who was geeky, like me, would definitely not be invited. I'd never been to one of those kind of parties. Still, there was no way I was going to go as Jenny. That would be just way too strange.

Becky opened the door, and Marcia introduced me and said we were passing and thought we'd see how she was doing, but we couldn't get her on the 'phone. Becky invited us in, apologizing 'cause she'd been on the 'phone to another friend. And she just hated call waiting. She thought it was so rude to interrupt someone just because there was another call.

I was amazed once again. Clearly she didn't get it, either. She chattered on to Marcia for a minute, then turned to me and said "I haven't seen you around town before, Jenny. What brings you to Santa Rosita?"

Marcia, always quicker than me, jumped in. "She's just visiting. Her family's thinking of moving here, and they came to check the place out." Where did she get this stuff from?

"Well, hope you like it," Becky smiled. "We think it's a bit of a snooze, but mostly it's okay."

I looked across at Marcia. We had come here for a purpose, and she'd had her fun with Becky, now was the time to put an end to this. I tried to catch her eye, but she and Becky were babbling on about someone I didn't catch, so I sat back and waited for Marcia to get the hint. In a few minutes I was drawn into the conversation, too. They were, of course, talking about boys, and Becky asked me what I thought of Paul, the guy who'd been in the car with Mike. I replied that I didn't really know him yet, and Becky looked at me kind of strangely and said, "No, I meant the way he looks"

"Oh," I said, trying to recover. I hadn't given that any thought at all. Good, I supposed, if you liked a lot of muscle. "Great. Maybe a little on the heavy side."

"Jenny likes the scrawny ones," said Marcia, laughing. I scowled. We talked on. Apparently Marcia now had no intention of telling Becky. I tried to give her a few signals, but mostly I just enjoyed sitting and talking. I liked Becky, she was funny, kind of in a sarcastic way which made me think of how she could cut someone down with a few words if she wanted to, but I could sense she was a good person inside, she liked to laugh at so many things. She wasn't exactly pretty, at least not in a conventional sense, because she affected something of a goth look, kind of 'goth-lite' as Marcia called it. But she sure was striking with her dark hair and pale skin and full red lips. And she had a great figure.

Finally I could sense that Marcia was going to tell Becky, and all this would be over. It was pretty late now, after 5.30, and I had had enough. Well, actually I really enjoyed the conversation, and the chance to hang out with Becky, and apart from the sheer terror of being out in public I'd had more fun with Marcia than I'd had in ages. I wasn't really having to think about the way I talked and walked and moved and stuff, but a little part of me was exhausted from all the tension and I needed to stop. Eventually Marcia said to Becky "So, have you noticed anything weird today"

"Apart from Denise Convey inviting me to her party tonight, you mean? No."

Marcia was just beginning to speak when we heard the front door open, and Becky's parents entered. Great. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I was introduced to both of them. Becky then said "Wow, look at the time." It was almost 6.00

Marcia stood up. "Time for us to move ourselves on, Jenny. Mind if I use the bathroom, Becky?"

"Knock yourself out, but hurry. I gotta get ready, Brad's taking me for a bite to eat before the party," Becky said, as Marcia went off to the bathroom.

"Do you girls need a lift home?" Becky's Dad asked me.

"Oh, don't worry Mr. Connor," I started to say, but he maintained it was no trouble and in a few minutes Marcia and I were in his Lexus and headed down Main Street back the way we'd come earlier in the day. When we pulled up outside Marcia's place we thanked him and began to walk up the drive toward her house as he pulled away.

"Jeez, well that was a really productive trip to Becky's," I said sarcastically.

Marcia looked slightly wounded. "Well, after we got there and got to talking, I don't know, I just seemed to forget about it for a while. You make a terrific girl, you know that? I had a great time, and so did Becky. I almost wish you were always a girl, it's fun."

I honestly didn't know what to say to that. Did she mean she didn't like me as a guy? She must have noticed my expression, because she continued. "Not that I don't have a great time with you as Chris. But today's been fun, hasn't it? And you are very good at being a girl, you have to admit that."

I sighed. I had enjoyed it. But now I was still trapped. "Maybe I can jump the fence and climb through a window," I said, looking across at my house, but I knew there was little chance of that. Mom had gone through a security phase after dad left and installed extra locks on the windows.

"Let's just tough it out," I finally said to Marcia. "I know Rob is gonna spread it right through the school when he finds out, but I don't see what else we can do. I mean, I can't just go home like this, my mother would freak completely."

We walked in to Marcia's house through the kitchen door. Her father was getting ice from the refrigerator for some drinks. "Hi Dad," said Marcia.

"Hi Hon," her father said. "How was your day. This must be Jenny"

Both of us looked at him blankly. "Rob mentioned you were together," he said. "It is Jenny, isn't it?"

"Um, yes," I squeaked.

"We have to get ready for the party tonight," said Marcia, leading me by the hand through the kitchen.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson," I said in what I hoped sounded like a sweet voice as Jenny pulled me into the living room. Mrs. Wilson was sitting with her back to us, reading a magazine.

"Hi Mom," Marcia said as she half-dragged me through the room. "we're just going upstairs to change for the party."

Marcia's Mom twisted in the chair to look at us, but only caught a glimpse as we left through the door to the hallway and the stairs. "That's nice," she called vaguely.

We got to the top of the stairs, to see Rob coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I had to admit I was impressed by his body, he obviously worked out a lot to keep it in that shape. He looked me up and down again and said "Hi Sis, hi Jenny. How you doin' ?"

"Fine," said Marcia, trying to lead me past him on the landing.

"You going to the Convey party tonight?" He asked Marcia.

"Yes. Mike's taking me." Marcia said. "You're not, are you?"

"Well, I haven't got an invite, but since Tanya's sick tonight I thought maybe me and the boys might head up there later on."

Yeah, I'm sure all the seniors are just gonna love that," said Marcia sarcastically as we reached her room and went inside. Once again we collapsed with laughter.

"This is great," said Marcia. "Jenny, I can't believe how wild this is."

She'd called me Jenny when we were alone. I let it pass. I was laughing, too. I couldn't figure it out. Were these people really stupid, or what? But then I saw myself in Marcia's mirror again I stopped laughing. It was true. I did look like someone different. I wasn't sure how I'd ever get to look like the old me. Was I going to have to shave my head, or what?

We sat on Marcia's bed, trying to work out what I was going to do that night. Clearly I couldn't change and leave as Chris, because the Wilson's were expecting to see Jenny leave. Then I realized. The clothes! "Where are the clothes?"

"What clothes?"

"My clothes." We'd had them in a shopping bag when we left Marcia's house.

"Uh, did you take them out of the car when we got to Becky's?"

They were still in Mike's car. God only knew what he'd think when he found them there.

I lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to work out how this had gone so totally out of control. I couldn't change back if I wanted to. Now I had to go home like this. For a few minutes neither of us spoke. Then Marcia lay back on the bed beside me, and began stroking my arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I kind of got you into this."

"There's not too much 'kind of' about it" I said, and then regretted it. It wasn't really Marcia's fault. I'd gone along with everything. I'd even had fun. "I guess if I stay out late I can go home when Mom's already asleep and she won't notice."

"So, what are you going to do until then?"

"I could stay here."

"No, my parents would think that was strange. I think you better come to the party with me."

"Unh unh. No way. I'm not cut out for going to those kind of parties as a guy, I definitely couldn't handle it as a girl "

"Actually, I think you could handle it much better." Marcia's voice had gotten low, and she moved from stroking my arm to touching my neck. It felt very soothing as I lay there. She raised herself on the bed a little and leant over me. "Jenny, don't take this the wrong way, but I think this was really good, what we did today. Don't you?"

"I enjoyed it," I admitted without thinking. Oh God! What was I saying! I tried to roll over away from her, but her hand on my shoulder stopped me. She kissed me lightly on the forehead and laid me back down.

"It's okay, I knew you would," Marcia said.

She was right. She'd known this would feel good for me. Had she planned it? No, that wasn't so important. The bigger question was, why did it feel right? "Oh, God. Marcia, am I weird?"

"No hon, I think everybody needs to do some exploring some time." She was back to stroking my throat. "Think of it that way, it's just a bit of exploring." And then she kissed me on the lips.

I'd never been kissed on the lips before. Ever. I mean, I've never been able to attract girls, so there's never been any opportunity. Marcia's kiss was gentle and sweet, not too long but warm and soft, and it kind of did something to me. I just lay there and let her do it. She lifted her head a little and smiled at me. "I've never kissed a girl before," she said.

"Neither have I," I said without thinking. I was going to have to watch what I said more. "I mean, I'm not a girl"

"You look like one," Marcia said. "But maybe that's why I did it, 'cause you look like one but you're not."

I reached up to her, but she pulled her head back further. She continued stroking my neck. "You're a good friend," she said softly. "Maybe my best friend. Let's not complicate this too much."

I was disappointed. She had started this. But she was right. I didn't want to complicate things with Marcia, of all people. She wasn't just my best friend, she was one of my only friends.

"Okay" I said. Then I got up off the bed. "May as well make the best of the rest of the evening."

"Say what?"

"Well, if I'm stuck in these clothes, and can't go home 'til late, let's do something. I can't very well walk the streets waiting until my Mom goes to sleep, can I? I'll have to stay with you."

"So you'll come to the party?" Marcia said, getting up from the bed and holding my hands.

"I guess so. Nobody will know me there anyway. I may as well take this as far as it can go," I said. A little voice inside me told me I was making an enormous mistake.

Marcia hugged me tight, and tried to jump us both up and down. "Yippee!" she squealed. "This is gonna be *lots* of fun. You won't regret it." She went over to her wardrobe and began to sort through her clothes, looking for something. "I'm gonna make you look great," she said.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked. "It seems to have worked pretty well so far."

"No, this is a party. You want something ... exciting," said Marcia.
 
 

 
To Be Continued...