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Part 6

I couldn't believe it! Mindlessly I let myself be led from the pedicure room through the relaxation room and into a full service salon. Before I could conjure up a rational thought, I watched a cape whisk over my front. The stylish woman, in the mirror behind me, lifted my hair out of the way as she fastened the collar of the cape around my neck. Her thin delicate hands sifted through my hair as she teased it.

"Seems I have a lot to work with here." She leaned over me. Her dark auburn hair dangled down my shoulder. "My name's Pam. I'll be your stylist today Bailey."

"Nice to meet you," I said cautiously, still in shock at the turn of events.

Looking back on it now, it really wasn't much of a surprise how I ended up there. I had let myself be talked into a visit to the spa by my mother. She had casually called it a mother daughter day. Little did I know she actually wanted to turn me into her daughter. There I sat in a hairstylist's chair, being pumped up toward certain ridicule. Soon my somewhat effeminate hair would be truly feminine, and I didn't have the courage to back out of it.

"Your mother picked the style out of a magazine, but I was wondering if you wanted something a little different," Pam said.

In a semiconscious state of mind I managed to piece together what Pam had said. Her nimble index finger pointed at a page ripped from a magazine. It sat precariously under her mirror, and seemed to reflect back at me mockingly. The model's bright blonde hair tickled her shoulders, and went up in playful layers to the top of her head. Slightly curled bangs fell past her eyes, and were light enough to be able to see the blonde's smiling green eyes through the hair.

Pam leaned over me again. "I know you're probably stunned by all of this." I felt her hand reach out and turn my chin to face her. "If I leave it a bit long, you can always cut it again before school starts." Her bright red lips framed her pleasant smile. "You'd probably like that option I'm sure."

"Does my mom really want it that way?" I asked.

Pam stepped over to the counter of her station. "I want to know what you want," she said. "This whole day has been about you, and this hairstyle should be about you as well."

"I like my hair," I said, looking into the mirror.

"I can style it without cutting it," Pam said.

I shook my head.

"Your mother won't be mad," Pam said. "She'll understand."

"It's not that," I said.

"Did you want a different style? I can give you a magazine to look through."

I continued to shake my head. "Maybe…"

"What sweetie?"

"Could you make it like Melanie's," I said. "Only a little longer."

Pam smiled. "I can do that." She stepped over behind me and played with my hair a bit. "Is that what you really want?"

"I think so…"

"It'll be really feminine," Pam said. "Just warning you."

I stared into the mirror for a moment. My mother actually wanted me to be a girl. At least I thought she did. Tom, my stepfather, on the other hand, was totally against it, but said it was up to me. My brother Justin had been calling me Bailey since Tuesday when we discussed changing my name from Zachary. Even my girlfriend Tiffany wanted me to be a girl. It seemed like everyone around me wanted Bailey except me.

"I want it to be," I said.

Pam's eyebrow raised in the mirror behind me. "You sure?"

"I want to look as feminine as possible," I said, without a hint of doubt in my voice.

"In that case," Pam said, "might I suggest some work on your eyebrows?"

"If it'll help," I said. "I don't wanna be recognized…" I lowered my voice, though we were alone. "As a boy."

"I can definitely do that for you," Pam said. "I can't guarantee it'll all go back to normal by school though."

"I can deal with that," I said.

"So be it," Pam said. "You're braver than I thought."

She continued to play with my hair for a moment. A pleasant smile sat frozen on her tan face. If I didn't know any better, I could swear she was waiting for me to change my mind. Eventually she eased my hair down, and stepped over to her counter. She came back with a spray bottle in one hand and a comb in the other. With one more decided look in the mirror, she set about wetting my hair and combing it out.

I sat in a daze for a long moment. In the mirror I watched my hair go from nearly dry to workably wet. Pam now appeared dedicated to the task. As she combed my wavy hair out as straight as possible, pulling the comb through a few rats, she took on this aura of seriousness. After a few more moments of combing out my hair, she put the spray bottle back onto her counter. Then she walked back behind me with the comb and a pair of scissors.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Pam asked.

I eyed the scissors and comb in the mirror. My wet hair fell in strings around my head. This was my last chance to scream "negative" and to abort the mission. I didn't. Even with all of her warnings and chances to get out of this, I wanted it to continue. The reflection in the mirror, of the pretty girl with the wet hair, nodded.

"Okay," Pam said in a serene tone. "I'm going to start with doing some choppy layers on your sides, back and crown. Then we'll move to the front and give you some cute bangs."

Start she did. In a matter of seconds, Pam had taken the plunge into my hair. Her nimble fingers maneuvered the scissors like a trained surgeon. I had never had my hair cut by anyone considered a professional, at least not in my opinion. Usually I was taken to the local ten dollar hack job place. Like all things that day, this too was a new experience.

"Since your hair is naturally wavy," Pam said. "I'm going to try to leave a bit of wave at the end of each layer." She paused to put her hand on my shoulder. "I don't know if I'll be successful, but I'll try. It should also leave it a bit longer." She smiled and went back to cutting.

I watched her drag the comb through my slick hair. Then she expertly cut it off at the same length. In the mirror I could see my hair slowly transform. Up to this point it had been a bit long, but with no shape to it. Now, as the sides began to step down in layer upon choppy layer, it was truly starting to look like a girl's hairstyle.

"I'm going to leave the back a little long," Pam said, putting her finger halfway down the back of my neck. "You have a natural flip there, and I think it'll look cute." She started cutting my hair in the back. "I'm layering it much the same way as the sides."

By the time Pam had worked up to the top of my head, before the bangs, I could already see there was no way I'd ever be called a boy. It didn't matter how boyish I made myself look, or what clothes I wore. People would either call me a tomboy, a girl, or a sissy. At that moment, I didn't care anymore. I liked the way my hairstyle was turning out.

Pam spun my chair around to where I sat facing her. With my back to the mirror, I couldn't see her finish her masterpiece. It didn't seem to matter anyway, as I kept my eyes shut for the next part. She combed my hair out in the front, leaving long strands draped over my face. I could feel her then taking strands at a time and cutting them off.

"Keep those pretty blue eyes closed," Pam said. "I'm layering your bangs too, but I think you'll look cute with asymmetric bangs."

"What does that mean?" I asked, unsure of the meaning of asymmetric. Did I learn that in elementary school?

"It means they'll be longer on one side than the other," Pam said. "In your case, I'm leaving the left side longer than the right." She continued to cut. "If they bother you later, you can have your mom straighten them. I just think it works for you personally."

"Okay." I really didn't have much else to say to her explanation.

When Pam had finished with my bangs, she went back over my hair. In various spots she took a little more off. She walked back to her counter without turning my chair back around. After a few seconds, she came back. I caught glimpse of something shiny and metallic in her hand. Then she lifted her hand to my face and I realized she held a pair of tweezers.

"I'm just going to clean up a few hairs on your eyebrows," Pam said. "This might hurt a bit at first, but you get used to it really quick."

She was right. It hurt a bit at first as she quickly plucked hairs from my eyebrows. After several plucks, however, the area became numb. In my head I tried to conjure up what the meaning of "a few" was to her. It seemed like she spent half an hour plucking at my eyebrows. Maybe I was just anxious to see the finished product. Eventually she rubbed both eyebrows gently with her thumbs.

"There," she said. "That wasn't so bad was it?"

"Not really," I said.

"You're actually a bit lucky," she said. "Some blondes your shade have blonde eyebrows as well." She came back with a hairdryer and a round brush. "You got the dark ones people can see, and they honestly were shaped quite nicely to begin with."

Pam set about drying my hair. She used the brush to curl the wavy ends of my hair. I was dying to see what she had done to me. The slow methodic way she dried my hair drove me crazy. I could've sworn she was deliberately postponing the inevitable.

Finally she seemed satisfied with the level of dryness of my hair. She walked back to her counter to put the hairdryer and brush away. When she came back I noticed she was playing with some sort of styling wax. Her fingers plunged into my hair. They flexed back and forth, pulling and teasing here and there. As she worked the final touches into my hair, she turned the chair slowly to face the mirror.

"And there we are," Pam said.

My eyes must've grown about five times their normal size. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. Wavy layers popped out everywhere on my head. In the back, my hair flipped out to each side of my neck. Above my eyes, wispy bangs swept to the left, curling inward and lightly brushing across my thin, and now slightly arched eyebrows. My pouty lips dropped open as I beheld the girl in the mirror. Pam continued to tease my hair.

"Oh my." Melanie's voice drifted in from the doorway.

I couldn't pull my gaze away from the mirror. Pam stepped away, as her daughter came up behind me. Melanie took her mother's place, and began to tease my hair. I couldn't speak. Mindlessly I sat there, staring at two girls in the mirror. As Melanie continued to move her fingers in and out of my hair, I felt like her puppet. She used this to her advantage.

"So I talked to your mom," Melanie said.

"Oh?"

"She thinks it's an excellent idea for you to work with Kate and I."

"Work with you?" Pam asked.

"Bailey wants to learn how to be more girly," Melanie said. "I was thinking Kate and I could help her."

"Oh I see…" Pam walked over with a broom and started to sweep up my discarded hair. "You sure you want to do that?" She asked, looking at me in the mirror.

"I think it would be fun," I said.

"Fun for them," Pam said. "I think you'd be surprised at how strict Melanie can be." She swept up some of my hair. "And Kate can be deathly serious when she has to be."

"Your mother seemed pretty serious about it too," Melanie said. "She even offered to pay us."

"I hope you turned her down young lady," Pam said.

"Oh I did," Melanie said. "But I'm going to treat it as if she did pay us." She looked down at me in the mirror. "It's not going to be all fun and games. There's going to be some serious learning." She waited until her mom turned away before giving me a mischievous wink.

"Did you agree upon a schedule?" Pam asked.

"I called and talked to Kate. We decided Tuesday and Thursday afternoons once school starts," Melanie said. "Those seemed like the best days for everyone."

"When school starts?" I asked.

Melanie patted my head. "She can come over to Kate's after school, and her mom can get her after." She totally ignored my question. "It'll give us about an hour to set up."

"Well it sounds like you're serious about it," Pam said. "As long as it doesn't interfere with school and you treat it like a job…"

"We definitely will," Melanie said.

"Are you okay with all of this Bailey?" Pam asked.

"Of course she is!" Melanie leaned over me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a friendly hug. "She already agreed to it."

"Well I have some old cosmetology books at home that might help," Pam said. "I guess you could find some books on deportment at the library, or stuff on the web."

"Thanks mom!" Melanie said. "You're the best."

"Why don't you take Bailey back to her room now?" Pam asked.

"Oh…" Melanie retracted her body from me. "You have a new outfit waiting for you." She unfastened the cape from around my neck, and carefully removed it. "Your mom had me put it in your room."

I followed Melanie back to the changing room. The silence felt a bit melodramatic, but I didn't feel like sharing my sentiments about my predicament with the people we passed. Surprisingly a young man in his twenties sat out in the relaxation room. This little bit of information put my mind at ease about being the only male in the building. Though at the moment I didn't feel very male. I definitely didn't look the part.

"Here we are," Melanie said, her voice snapping me back into reality.

My hand fumbled for the key in my pocket. I pulled it out, my hands shaking as they moved to the door handle. Why I felt nervous at the moment, I had no idea. The feelings inside of me were beginning to well up, and maybe I was scared I'd reach the point of bursting when I saw my outfit. Perhaps I had some doubts about this entire day.

The door swept into the room, brushing against the plush carpet inside. Melanie let me enter first, but again stepped by me into the room. I put the key on the counter near the door, and watched Melanie. I knew we'd probably be getting a lot closer in the future. At that moment in time, however, I really wanted to be left alone. I wasn't used to this much attention, and I felt uncomfortable with the sisterly way she already acted around me.

"I put the dress over here," Melanie said. "It is absolutely darling." She pulled a dress from the small closet and held it up in front of her. "What do you think?"

I stepped over to examine the dress. The pearl-colored satin material slid through my hand. It felt a bit heavier than Tiffany's sleepwear, but just as slick. With a bright and varied pansy print over the pearl, the dress could go with about anything. The sweetheart neckline swept down from inch wide straps, and gathered at the front with a row of pearl color buttons. Completing the feminine appeal of the dress, the full, gathered skirt had a slight layer of lace peeking out at the bottom.

"Do you need any assistance?" Melanie asked quietly.

Already uncomfortable with the situation, I looked at her shaking my head. "I think I can manage."

"Okay," Melanie said, handing me the hanger. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

"Thank you," I said, taking the dress in my hands.

Melanie stepped past me, turning at the door. "The shoes are on the ottoman," she said, as she pulled the door shut.

Shoes. That one word could catch my attention in a crowded room of screaming people. I'd grown to have a fond appreciation for shoes over the past two weeks. The various styles had always amused me, but when I stepped into the women's side of shoes, it opened up a whole new world to me. I couldn't explain it. I just liked shoes.

I hung the dress on the back of the door, and stepped over to the ottoman. As I slipped onto the cushiony seat, I pulled the shoebox over to me. I carefully removed the lid, as if the shoes were a precious hidden jewel unearthed during an archeological dig. After removing a few pieces of tissue, I finally unveiled them.

Inside the shoebox sat a pair of sandals. They were thin-soled with tan on the bottom and a silver cushioned lining on top. Three thin white straps crisscrossed over, forming the shoe's upper. Another thin white strap went over the heel and wrapped around the ankle, closing with a small silver buckle. The small one and a half inch kitten heel added just the right amount of maturity and femininity to complete the look.

The shoes were absolutely adorable, and like always I couldn't wait to put them on. I kicked my slippers off, as I removed the left sandal from the box. After a bit of fidgeting with the ankle strap, I managed to get it open. I placed the sandal on the floor, and slipped my foot into it. With a bit more fidgeting I managed to get it buckled onto my foot. Then I repeated the process for the right sandal, before I sat back and kicked my feet out to look at them.

They fit perfectly, and looked amazing. My feet looked entirely feminine in them with my shocking pink nails, and the softness given to them from the pedicure. I started to wonder what Nathan would think of my feet now. He seemed to be into them the other day. Then I started to wonder why I instantly thought of Nathan. What about Tiffany? She would go crazy if she saw them.

"Everything going okay in there?" Melanie asked from behind the door.

"Yes," I said. "I'll just be a moment longer."

I knew she was probably dying to see me in the dress. I could picture her bouncing like a little kid who had to pee. It seemed cruel to keep her waiting, so I pulled myself away from staring at my new sandals, and stood up in them. After tugging the belt loose from my robe, I let it slide from my body onto the ottoman. I found my bra, hanging in the closet, was the only thing remaining of the clothes I arrived in. I slipped it on and walked over to the dress.

All things considered, the dress looked absolutely beautiful. It looked like my mother spent a fortune, not just on the outfit, but the entire day. I noticed shades of pinks in the pansies, so I knew my nails would go with it. Thinking of my nails caused me to look at my hands. Their smoothness and the way the nails were shaped screamed girl before the pink polish became a factor.

This only made me think about the conversation with the nail technician Tonya. She claimed guys would be wanting me to touch them with these hands. The first guy that jumped into my mind happened to be Nathan again. I knew from Tuesday he couldn't wait to touch me. Touching him scared me away from the thought. Obviously there were some issues I needed to discuss with him.

I reached up and pulled the dress from the hanger. While I examined and felt the material, I found a slim little zipper on the right side of the dress. I pulled it down. It opened it up enough to be slipped on over my head and shoulders. As the dress came down over my body, it felt so light and dainty. I suddenly got a giddy feeling all over, the feeling I now got every time I tried on some new feminine attire.

In one motion, I pulled the zipper up and opened the door. Melanie burst in, closing the door behind her. She appeared to be beside herself as she fawned over the dress. I stumbled over in front of the vanity, as she pulled me over and stood behind me. She tugged at the straps of the dress until they were tight. Then to my surprise she reached around me and started squeezing and adjusting my bra beneath the dress.

"Oh relax," she said. "It's not like they're real." She looked at me in the mirror and raised her left eyebrow. "Though it's a good thing you act like they are." Her hands continued to grope my chest. "It's instinctively girly." Finally she removed her hands and pulled out the stool from under the vanity. "Have a seat, and we'll do your makeup."

"Makeup?" I asked, sitting down on the stool.

"No no!" she said. "Not like that!" She reached over and locked the door to the room.

"What?"

"Like this."

Her hand wrapped around my arm, quite firmly, as she yanked me up from the stool. She pulled me back from the stool and turned me to face her. After making sure she had my attention, she reached back with her left hand and smoothed the back of her skirt. Then she eased herself down onto the stool. The move appeared quite graceful. She waited a moment before standing back up and stepping away.

"Try to keep your knees together," she said. "Be fluid, and just ease yourself into it." She stood to face me. "Think graceful."

I stepped over to the stool and turned to face Melanie. She appeared to be the most serious she had been all day. I reached my left hand behind me, and cautiously smoothed the skirt of my dress. As I lowered my bottom to the chair, Melanie motioned to be less rigid at my knees. I followed her advice, and found myself moving quite gracefully onto the seat.

"That was pretty good," Melanie said. "Do it again." She took my wrists and pulled me gently from the stool. "This time relax, and try to make it more natural."

I tried it again, following her advice.

"Don't think about it," she said, pulling me up again. "It should be something you just do by instinct." She smiled pleasantly. "Like being offended by someone touching your breasts."

After several more attempts, Melanie finally thought I got it. At least I was close enough to not look absurd doing it. She stood me up again, and walked me over to the closet on the other side of the room. Then she stepped over to the side. I looked at her, wondering what was next. It didn't take long for me to find out.

"Now, without even thinking about it," she said. "I want you to walk over to the stool and sit like I showed you."

I started to stroll over to the stool, but before I got past the ottoman Melanie stopped me. She rushed over between me and the vanity.

"Oh dear…" She pulled me over to the mirror. "You need to work on your walk." She looked around me into the mirror. "Didn't Kate or Tiffany show you how to walk?" Her brow furrowed. "Or stand, for that matter?"

"No," I said. "It's all been for fun." I felt like I had to defend myself for some reason.

"Well if you want to dress for fun, that's fine," she said. "But since you've been going out in public, you should work on at least the basics."

"The basics?"

"Yes," she said. "Like your posture. You will find it a lot easier to walk like a girl if you work on your posture. First…" She reached around to my chest again. "Keep your chest up and your shoulders back." She started to adjust my posture. "Keep your chin up, and use your abs to support your back and upper body."

I let a bit of sarcasm overtake me. "You're really serious about this girl schooling aren't you?"

Melanie dropped her hands from me. "Do you want to learn, or not?"

I detected a bit of disappointment in her voice. "I do," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Chin up," she said, slapping at it gently with the back of her hand. "Eyes forward." She moved her hands down to my waist. "Now this is more important for higher heels, but since you're wearing heels you might as well get used to it." She gently moved my hips back, and up. "You want to adjust your pelvic tilt when you're wearing heels, to change your center of gravity."

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

"Let's just say my mother taught me right," she said. "I'm also really interested in fashion. I want to be a model some day."

"Well you certainly have the look for it," I said.

I could tell she was blushing now. "Thanks." She saw me looking at her in the mirror. "Eyes forward!" She turned me around to face the closet. "Now I want you to walk over to the closet, keeping your knees loose and stepping heel to toe." She backed over to the doorway of the bathroom. "Try to keep your posture."

I did as she asked, stepping lightly over to the closet.

"Relax more," she said. "Keep your posture, but relax and be fluid. Stroll back to the door."

Again, I strolled across the room, trying to relax as much as possible.

"Again. Take smaller steps," she said. "Pretend you're walking on a line, and keep the inside of your foot on that line with each step." She waited until I reached the closet. "Let your bottom roll with each step, it'll make your hips have that sway in them guys drool over."

"But I'm not into guys," I said, as I strolled over to the door.

"I don't care," Melanie said. "You're going to walk like you are. Now again. Maintain your posture and this time relax your arms at the elbows."

I continued to walk back and forth across the room. Melanie gave me advice with each turn. She even showed me how to turn. By the time I reached the closet the last time, I felt like I'd been working on walking for an hour. Melanie checked her watch, apparently thinking the same thing, then walked crisply over to the vanity.

"You'll have to work on it in your spare time," she said. "I don't think you can perfect your walk in ten minutes." She stood next to the vanity facing me. "Now, walk over here and sit like I showed you."

Without giving it much thought, I waltzed over to the stool. Casually I stepped in front of the stool, reached back to smooth the skirt of my dress, and eased down onto the stool. Melanie clapped quietly a few times. She came over behind me and smiled at me in the mirror. Then she put her hands lightly on my bare shoulders.

"Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all." She walked over to get a small gift bag from the counter. "Now in your spare time I want you to work on your walk and sitting the rest of the summer. Wear a skirt with heels when you do." She came back over to the vanity. "Remember when you sit, even though you don't like boys, boys love to sneak a peak up a girl's skirt." She pulled a compact of light pink blush out of the bag and opened it. "So keep your thighs together as you sit, and when you change positions."

Melanie turned the stool around to face her. She lowered herself down as she stooped over me with the blush. In a matter of seconds she had applied a light amount of blush to my cheeks. She closed the compact and put it back in the bag. Then she pulled out a tube of carnation pink lipstick. I watched her pop the cap off and spin the lipstick up out of the tube.

"Speaking of that," Melanie said. "Take this knee." She tapped my right knee. "And cross it over the other." She started to apply the lipstick to my lips. "Remember to keep your thighs together."

I followed her instructions perfectly, and she seemed very pleased.

"Now switch them." Melanie paused with the lipstick application to watch me. "Good!" She pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity and had me blot. "Switch a few more times to get used to it." She stood back to watch me. "You do pretty well with that." She came back with the lipstick. "I want you to work on your posture at home. Even guys should sit up straight."

"Okay," I said. "This is a lot to remember."

"You'll get used to it in no time," she said. "Just remember to sit and stand up straight, but be fluid and graceful in your movements." She held my chin firmly and lifted it so I faced her. "I want you to take this seriously and practice the rest of the summer. That way we won't have to waste much time teaching it when school starts." She raised her eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Got it," I said, a bit scared to say no to her.

"Good!" Melanie said, as she reached into the bag once more and brought out a small bottle of ck one. "Your new scent."

She winked at me. Then she dabbed the citrusy fragrance on my wrists, the backs of my knees, and behind my ears. The smell filled the immediate area, but wasn't overbearing. She dropped the lipstick and ck one into the gift bag, and handed it to me. Then she slipped a cute braided pink bracelet onto my left wrist, and stood up in front of me. A pleasant smile spread across her face.

"You're so cute," she said. "Your mom is going to flip."

"I was kind of getting scared she left me here," I said with a chuckle.

"No," Melanie said. "She got a massage a little while ago, and has been waiting out in the reception area for you." She checked her watch again. "Which reminds me… You better get going. Don't want to be late."

"Late?" I asked, rising from the stool.

"She got tickets to a local play," Melanie said. "I think you'll like it."

"So I'm all dressed up and actually have a place to go?"

"Exactly," Melanie said. "I'll be seeing you around Bailey."

"Thanks for everything," I said.

"Work on what I showed you."

"I will."

With that said, Melanie opened the door and let me slip out of the room. A small walk later, I stood in front of the door to the reception area. My knees trembled a bit as my hand wrapped around the handle. I was scared to let my mother see me like this. What if she liked it so much she wanted to keep me as a girl? I knew deep down it was my decision, but something told me I had already made the decision.

I kept in mind the fact that I had chosen my own hairstyle. Her choice was a bit more conservative, and could've been fixed easily. My current hairstyle would either have to grow out, or be cut pretty short to start school. The door handle turned in my hand. I took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

My mother, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine, slapped it down on the table when I stepped through the door. She recognized me, but had to do a double take. With the combined speed and agility of a cat, my mother bolted toward me. As she gushed over my new appearance, Linda, the receptionist, sat smiling at me with her forearms resting against the desk.

"Well it looks like you're pleased with the results Misses Walker," Linda said.

"Very much so," my mother said. "Though I didn't expect Pam to go so feminine with the hairstyle."

"That…" I glanced at Linda and then back at my mother. "I asked her to do this."

"Oh," my mother said. "I see." She played with my hair a little. "Well it looks darling."

"It sure does," Linda said. "Did you enjoy your visit here Bailey?"

"I really did," I said, looking at Linda.

"Well you're welcome to come back anytime," Linda said. "The other ladies really enjoyed having you."

"Thank you," I said. "And tell them all thank you for me."

"I'll do that," Linda said.

"Well I'd love to stay and chat," my mother said, "but we have a matinee to get to down the street."

"You ladies have a good day," Linda said. "Enjoy your play, and thanks for choosing Oasis Day Spa."

"Take care," my mother said.

"Goodbye," I said.

The warm summer sun greeted us as we exited the spa. Already past its peak in the sky, I could tell the time was somewhere in the early afternoon. My mother reached toward me with a pair of sunglasses in her hand. I took them and examined them briefly. They looked like cheap drugstore sunglasses, with white plastic frames. I knew they were solely bought to go with my outfit. My mother smiled at me while I slipped them on.

"They really did an amazing job," she said. "If I didn't know what I was looking for, I wouldn't have recognized you."

"I really look that different?"

"Honey…" She put her hand on my shoulder. "You could honestly go to school like that, and people would think you were the new girl in town."

"I've actually been thinking about that," I said.

"Well tell me about it while we walk."

We set off down the sidewalk of Broadway. I held my chin up, and remembered to keep my posture as we walked. Even with the short lesson from Melanie, I felt I could walk down the street confidently in my low heels. My mother's business casual apparel made it so I didn't stand out like a sore thumb. However, my youthfulness, and the appeal of my outfit caused plenty of young men to take a look at me. I couldn't help but get absorbed in the attention, and soon found myself smiling at some of them.

"Bailey?" My mother snapped me back into the conversation. "What did you want to say about school?"

"Oh…" I glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot. "I was wondering if maybe I could go to school as Bailey?"

"Honey you will be Bailey when school starts," she said. "Remember we changed your name?"

"I mean…" I stopped to lower my voice. "As a girl?"

My mother shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"It will take a lot more than an outfit and a name change," she said. When I didn't respond she continued. "There's just too much involved in that sort of…" She took a breath. "I like that you're exploring this Bailey, but I'd like you to stay my son."

That certainly confused the hell out of me. This whole time I thought she was the one pushing for me to become her daughter. Now it felt like she was playing games with me. It was like giving a kid a taste of cake and then pulling it away from them. She wanted me to experience being a girl, but didn't want me to be one. What did she want?

"What do you want?" I said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Do you just want another toy to dress up like you used to do with your brother? What is it? Really?"

"What?" My mother looked shocked. "No! That's not it at all." She glanced around. "I don't think this is the proper place to discuss it either."

"I need to know," I said, lowering my voice.

"I just wanted you to have a day," she said. "Something fun."

"And realize I like it, then have it taken away?"

"I'm not taking anything away," she said. "We can do this again."

"Just not every day?"

"Look, I'll make you a deal." She put her hands on my shoulders. "After high school you can do anything you want." Her eyebrows raised above the frames of her sunglasses. "Does that sound fair?"

"Can I still dress until then?"

"You can express yourself within reasonable limits," my mother said. "However, you're entering a stage in your life where many of your peers are going to be increasingly less accepting of certain things." She took her hands from my shoulders and straightened up. "Just fair warning. I want to see you happy, but I don't want to see you get hurt. That's why I suggested it be an after school activity."

"I understand…"

"Well don't look so disappointed," my mother said. "We still have the summers and weekends."

She smiled at me, and I had to smile back. I guess it was a small victory. At least now I knew my mother's motives for sure. For now, she only wanted a part-time daughter. I could live with that for the moment. My brother's motives were easy. He was too young to care. Now I just had to figure out Tom's motives.

As we turned to move up the street again, I fell naturally back into my walk. My heels now clacked almost in rhythm with my mother's heels. The skirt of my dress felt so sensual with the lace trim swishing against my thighs. I could feel my hips sway with each small step. The sun felt amazing and warm on my bare skin, while boys' stares gave me all the confidence in the world. I could enjoy the day again.

We continued to walk up Broadway to an old community theater. It had been there for decades, but I'd never been to a play there. The play we took in happened to be Barefoot in the Park. Though the name didn't live up to my expectations of what it was about, I enjoyed it nonetheless. The actors and actresses were amazing, and made me appreciate the theater at a young age. Most importantly, it gave my mom and I something to talk about on the way home, other than the usual banter about my issues.

It so happened, I couldn't wait to tell Tiffany about my day. I found myself on the phone not even ten minutes after my mother and I got home. We ended up gushing over the events like two tweenage girls. She seemed more excited about my new hairstyle than anything, and couldn't wait to see it. As I continued to talk to her, I could hear my mom talking with Tom. So I crept closer to the door to see if I could hear what they were talking about.

"He actually said he wanted to go to school as a girl?" Tom asked.

"Yes," mom said. "I felt so bad saying no to him, but I don't think he could handle it."

"I say let him dress as a little girl for school," Tom said. "An ass-kicking or two from his classmates will help him decide if he wants to go on with it."

"You know that's not funny Tom," my mother said.

"It's not meant to be," Tom said. "He needs to realize there's a world out there ready to kick the ass of anyone who's different."

"Is he that different in the scheme of things?" my mother asked.

"Maybe one day you'll both wake up and realize it, but until then…" Tom paused for a moment before continuing. "I say we wait to see. Girl… or boy… We'll just have to see."

"Is that okay?" Tiffany's voice blared through the phone.

"What?" I asked.

"Can you sleep over at her house?" Tiffany asked.

"Uh…" I stepped back into my room. "No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Tom doesn't want me spending the night," I said. "For obvious reasons. Guy. Girl."

"Oh…" Tiffany sounded disappointed on the other end. "I guess that's understandable. But you can still come right?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll just have to leave early."

"Great!" Tiffany said. "It's nothing formal, but I would love to see you in a dress."

"I could do that," I said.

"And heels!" Tiffany said, as if it were an afterthought. "Sandals would be so cute."

"I'll see what I can do," I said. "For you."

"I love you Bailey," she said, my name change obviously not a big burden in her mind. "Can't wait to see you at Tracy's party."

"I love you too," I said. "See you there."

"Bye bye," she said, hanging up the phone.

I walked over and hung the phone up. My mind was still on the conversation Tom and my mother were having. However, when I got off the phone I couldn't hear a sound from either of them. After a minute or two, I heard the front door close. I hurried to my window to see my mother getting in her car. As I watched her pull out of the driveway, Tom came and stood at my door.

"I have to admit," Tom said, waiting for me to spin around and face him. "You really pull it off."

"Where did mom go?" I asked.

"She went to get your brother," Tom said, walking over to my bed to sit down. "Come here. Let me look at you."

I stepped over to the middle of my room. Tom's eyes went up and down my body. With a little encouragement from him, I spun on my toes so he could see the whole outfit. As I turned to face him again, my dress swished back and forth over my thighs. His eyebrow raised as he looked over me once more.

"You know your mother used to model like that," Tom said. "It's been awhile, but…" He shook the thought from his head, and replaced it with a subtle smile. "You look… pretty."

"Thank you," I said.

The smile dropped from his face. "Why did you lie to me?" Tom asked.

"When?"

"At the table the other day, you said you didn't want to be a girl," Tom said. "Today you told your mother you wanted to go to school as a girl."

"I didn't lie," I said.

"That sounds like you want this fulltime," Tom said. "You lied to me."

He coaxed me toward him with his finger. I reluctantly stepped forward. Tom reached out and took hold of my arm, yanking me down toward him. As I fell across his lap, he put his left arm over my back to hold me down. Then he lifted the skirt of my dress up to my waist, exposing my white panties. I started to squirm when he rested the palm of his right hand on my bottom.

"I don't like being lied to," Tom said. He raised his right hand and brought it down with a firm smack on my bottom. "For this to work, we need to trust each other." He raised his hand again, only to bring it down firmly on my bottom once more. "Did you lie to me?"

"Yes…" I said, reluctantly.

Tom landed another few swats on my bottom. "Do you want to be a girl?"

"No," I said.

Tom swatted me several times. "Do you want to be a girl?"

"Yes," I choked out. Tears began to form in my eyes.

"Then don't ever lie to me about it."

He continued to swat me until I squirmed beneath his left arm. When I started to kick my feet, he ceased with the spanking. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't sob. Tom pulled me back up and helped me stand. He even helped me fix the skirt of my dress. I never felt so humiliated.

"That's how little girls get spanked," Tom said. "Don't ever lie to me again, or you'll be seeing a lot more of it."

I nodded. He stood up, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Then he wiped the tears from my cheeks, before leaving my room. Now I would remember that day for another reason. I'd never been spanked like that before. They were usually the "bend over" type. That was my first of many over-the-knee spankings.

From that moment on, whenever I got into trouble with Tom, I received a sound spanking. I think he even went out of his way to make them memorable. It seemed like he set aside time to do them, to make them sink in. No matter what I was wearing, it was either pulled up or down to reveal my panties. This was a final act of humiliation he used to make sure I never forgot.

I did forget. I'd eventually slip up time and time again. By the end of the summer, my mother eventually took up the act in Tom's absence. Sometimes she even employed a hairbrush if it happened to be on hand. Eventually the hairbrush became a staple, as it took fewer swats with it to get the point across. Justin, on the other hand, still got the classic spanking with the belt. Though I knew the belt was painful, it never instilled the humiliation I felt being over someone's knees in my panties.

There were other forms of correction as well. For instance, in the week leading up to Tracy's party, my mother took note of all my actions. If I acted out of the perceived norm of a girl, while I was a girl, she would have me work on it before bed. She claimed it would help me to fit in better if it started to become second nature. I couldn't disagree on that fact with her, however, I saw myself being more feminine than even the girls I knew. At least the girls my age were still somewhat boyish at that age.

Yet my mother had me work on it all anyway. I chose to spend the week as a girl, to stay in character so to speak. My mother, on the other hand, chose my outfits for the week. All week I wore skirts and heels, to help get me ready for Friday. Not only did I get the practice of walking in heels all day, but my mother also had me walk in them for her before bed. If I sat the wrong way in a skirt, she would have me practice sitting in a skirt before bed. This particularly came in handy when I arrived at Tracy's party in a dress.

I navigated Tracy's front stairs like I had been walking all summer long on the two inch tapered heels of my black, strappy, sling back sandals. After waving my mother off, I turned back to the door and pushed my pink-tipped index finger against the doorbell. I stood up straight, and held Tracy's present out in front of me. Inside I could hear the voices of several girls. The door swung open.

"Hello," Mrs. Young said, as she opened the storm door. "Bailey, right?"

"Yes," I said. "Hi Misses Young."

"Well come on in," she said. "And I keep telling you girls to call me Betty."

"I'm sorry," I said, walking past her into the house. "I'm just not used to --"

"Bailey!" Tiffany's voice could have woken the dead. "I told you she'd make it!"

Betty quickly took Tracy's present from me, before Tiffany crashed into me. She threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me over back through the door. Her nose brushed my ear. I could hear her inhale softly. She seemed to linger there for a moment.

"What is that?" Tiffany asked with a whisper.

"Ck one," I whispered back.

"I love it," she said in a breathy voice.

When she broke the embrace, her arms slid down my arms to take my hands. She rocked our hands in and out, and gave me a smile. Her hazel eyes moved up and down my body. They stopped at my hair.

"I absolutely love what you did with your hair," she said. "It's so daring!"

"Yeah," Tracy said, coming to greet me. "Tiffany said you changed it, but wow…" She started playing with the wavy layers, along with Tiffany. "You didn't have to get all dressed up though."

"I think her dress is cute," Tiffany said. "Love the corset look." Her hand ran over the smooth, black, cotton and spandex front of my dress, before dropping to play with the gray and black plaid bottom. "And the tiered skirt… really cute."

"I hope it's not to uncomfortable," Tracy said. "We're gonna be kinda lounging around and watching movies."

"Thankfully it's not a real corset," I said with a smile.

Tracy smiled at me, letting her eyes roam down my legs. "I like the shoes," Tracy said. "I don't know how some of you do it, but I'd kill myself walking in heels."

"You've never worn heels?" I asked.

"Never have," Tracy said. "Never will." She walked away to join her mother.

"But you're going to wear yours the rest of the night," Tiffany said to me. "Right?"

"If that's what you want," I said.

She hugged me again. "I can't believe you went so…" Tiffany lowered her voice. "So girl on me."

"You don't like it?" I asked.

She broke the hug. "Are you kidding?" Tiffany said, nearly whispering. "I love it! What about your stepfather though?"

"He gave up on me I think," I said. "He just started treating me like a girl, and told me I could do whatever."

"And you believe him?" Tiffany asked.

"Am I not supposed to?"

Tiffany shrugged. "It just seems kind of weird to me that he changed his mind so fast."

"I guess he had to come to grips with it?"

"That wasn't too expensive was it?" Tiffany said, playing with the straps of my dress.

"Not really," I said. "Why?"

"We're having ice cream," she said. "Don't want it to get ruined."

"Oh it's fine." I lowered my voice a bit. "I'm just so happy to see you again."

Tiffany smiled. She put her arm in mine, and walked me into the living room. There were four other girls in the living room. I knew two of them vaguely from school, but the other two must have been Tracy's friends from another school. In the middle of all four of the girls, was Tracy's younger brother, Kale, desperately trying to get attention from each one of them.

"Everyone," Tiffany said. "This is Bailey."

I raised my hand to wave. "Hi girls."

Kale froze in his tracks and stared at me. "You're pretty," he said.

"Kale!" Tracy stormed into the room. "I told you, you could stay in here if you didn't bug us."

"Oh, he's not bugging us," Tiffany said. She walked over and stooped down in front of Kale. "You really think she's pretty?"

Kale nodded, unable to look away from me.

"I do too," Tiffany said.

Kale turned to face her. "But you're a girl."

"Well girls can think other girls are pretty," Tiffany said, looking at me with a smile. "Why don't you introduce pretty Bailey to everyone here?"

Kale's head continued to bob up and down. He calmly walked over to me and held his hand out. I offered my hand, and he took it and led me into the midst of the other girls. Before he introduced me to anyone, I turned to see Tiffany walking out of the room with Tracy. She turned to smile at me before disappearing into the hallway.

"This is Megan," Kale said. "Though she likes to be called Meg."

"Hi Bailey," Megan said.

Megan I had never seen before, but she was a cute girl of Asian descent. She had a short, black pixie cut on top of her oval face, with warm light brown almond-shaped eyes. Somewhere she had discarded her shoes, and I could tell she had on nude hose. Her frame was about the same as mine and Tiffany's, and her pale pink dress fit her perfectly from the thin spaghetti straps to the hem at her knees. I also noticed she was the only other girl who wore a dress tonight.

"Nice to meet you Meg," I said, shaking her delicate hand gently.

"Tawny," Kale said.

I took Tawny's hand. Her old dark blue polish was chipped and missing in spots. This reminded me of Tonya's statement about how you could tell a lady by the way she took care of her hands. Though there seemed to be a lady hidden somewhere underneath that straight, black bob cut, Tawny didn't present it much at all. She happened to be the most boyish of the group, hiding her thin frame with a black Korn t-shirt, and baggy jeans. Yet underneath it all, I could tell she was just as pretty and feminine as the rest of the girls there.

"What's up?" Tawny said, giving my hand a firm shake.

"Danielle," Kale said.

"Danielle," I said, with a smile.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Danielle asked.

To be honest, I knew Danielle. I didn't know her well, but we had the same fourth grade teacher. Her too-thin-to-stand-in-the-wind frame was unmistakable, especially with the long ponytail of straight blonde hair, which came to the middle of her back. I don't think she ever had a haircut since kindergarten. We used to call her Rapunzel. My head shook from side to side, as I looked into her large pale green eyes, which always seemed to be smiling.

"You look so familiar," Danielle said.

"He does!" the fourth girl said from beside me. "I'm Vanessa." She held her hand out.

"Excuse me!" Kale said. "I was doing the introductions."

"Kale!" Tracy said from behind me. "Go help mom in the kitchen."

Vanessa happened to be the other girl I knew, though less than I wanted to personally. Her orange crop top and short jean shorts covered very little of her flawless caramel colored skin. She started budding early and was on her way to becoming a young Tyra Banks. Vanessa even had the poise and structure to be a model, and ended up pursuing that career after high school. Without any competition, she had to be the most beautiful girl in the room.

"I swear I know you from somewhere," Vanessa said, still holding onto my hand.

Her coffee-colored eyes stared deeply into mine. I watched her face contort into one filled with mystery and then like it was trying to figure out the meaning of life. The awkwardness of the situation filled me momentarily with regret at having come to the party. In all honesty, I never wanted to in the first place. Tom, along with my mother, persuaded me into coming, thinking it would be a good idea.

"I don't think we've met," I said.

"No," Vanessa said. "You actually look like a boy I knew in school." She shook her head. "But your hands are too smooth and soft to be a boy."

"Because I'm not?" I could hear the other girls start to snicker.

Suddenly it appeared a light bulb went off somewhere in Vanessa's head. "Zach?" She asked quietly. "Zachary Walker?!"

"I…" My lips quivered.

I was found out! How in the world did she know? My mother didn't even recognize me the first time I dressed. She even claimed she wouldn't have recognized me Saturday, had she not known before hand. Yet somehow Vanessa knew. A girl I hadn't seen for over a year knew I was a boy. How?

"Relax!" Tiffany burst out laughing from behind me. "She knew before you got here."

"Your lips even shook like a little girl," Tawny said, from the couch.

Vanessa laughed out. "I so had you going!"

"That wasn't funny," I said, dropping her hand. "Why did you tell them?" I asked, turning to Tiffany.

"I had to," Tiffany said.

"It was my fault really," Tracy said. "I had to know why two girls disappeared into my pool shower for half an hour."

"Ooh," Danielle said, now standing to get more involved in the conversation. "I have to hear about this!"

"It was nothing," Tiffany said. "Really!"

"Besides," I said. "A girl doesn't kiss and tell."

"So you were kissing?" Danielle asked, running her finger down my bare arm.

"Bailey!" Tiffany said, her face showing concern and shock at the same time.

"I probably should stop there," I said. Then I turned to face Tracy. "Who all knows?"

"Just us here," Tracy said. "My mom knows too, but my dad and Kale don't know."

"What about Rebecca?" I asked.

"Not unless Kate told her," Tiffany said. "Though they do talk about everything."

Tawny and Megan remained on the couch. Their heads bobbed back and forth, taking in the whole conversation. Eventually Tawny focused more on me, stealing glances while she thought I wasn't looking. Megan slowly withdrew her attention from the conversation. Her actions told me she happened to be on the shy side. I could tell she was one of those who liked to be around people, but just kind of blended in with everyone.

"Girls!" Betty said from the kitchen. "Come get some ice cream!"

"I wish you would've told me," I said to Tiffany.

"You're not mad are you?" Tiffany asked.

"A little," I said. "The whole point of me doing this is for people not to know." I shook my head. "You're going around telling everyone."

"You're right," Tiffany said. "I'm sorry. I keep letting it slip."

"Well eventually you're going to let it slip to the wrong person," I said.

"For what it's worth," Tawny said, standing up from the couch. "Everyone here is cool with it. Even Tracy's mom." She helped Megan stand up. "You actually make a cute girl."

"You really do," Megan said quietly.

"Thanks," I said, watching them slip into the kitchen. I turned my attention back to Tiffany. "Promise me you won't do this again without telling me first?"

"I promise," Tiffany said. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," I said, embracing her in a sincere hug.

"Why don't you two kiss and make up?" Danielle asked.

I turned to see Danielle watch us intently with a sly grin upon her face. Pretty soon Tracy grabbed her and pulled her off to the kitchen. This left Tiffany and I alone with Vanessa in the living room. I broke our embrace, and let Tiffany go on ahead of me into the kitchen. Vanessa waited a moment until she crossed into the other room. Then I felt her hand reach out and grab my upper arm gently. She leaned in closer to me.

"I always though you were cute," Vanessa said. "Now I think you're even cuter."

A moment of boldness took me over. "I always thought you were pretty," I said. "One of the prettiest girls in school actually."

"You're so sweet," Vanessa said. "I think you would've given me a run for my money though."

"Girls?" Betty said from the doorway. "You coming?"

"Of course," Vanessa said, putting her arm in mine to walk me to the kitchen.

If you have never seen twelve and thirteen year old girls dig into ice cream, I could never paint a picture of the sheer chaos which transpired that night. The ice cream ranged from plain vanilla to fudge brownie. There were cans of whipped topping, assorted toppings from chocolate chips to sprinkles. You had to be bold to stick your arm in there for something. Mrs. Young had a hard time trying to clean up after us, and just gave up until the end.

I settled on a bowl of plain vanilla. Where I indulged was the toppings. Before long I had adorned my ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, tiny little chips of chocolate and that topping that turns hard when it sets. I had just stepped over to put some whipped topping over my masterpiece, when Vanessa walked up beside me. Tiffany strolled over to my other side, making me feel a bit nervous. Had they talked?

"You are so lucky," Vanessa said to Tiffany, under the loud talk of the other girls. "Bailey is the cutest thing."

"Well she's mine," Tiffany said. "So keep your little paws off."

"Relax!" Vanessa said, pulling herself back slightly. "You know I'm not interested in girls." She leaned in closer again. "Besides, you two make too cute a couple to break up."

"Thank you Vanessa," I said. I tried to hide my noticeable blush, and maintain some dignity by trying to get the conversation to stop. "I'm happy with Tiffany."

"I just can't believe you made her wear heels," Vanessa said.

"I don't make her wear them," Tiffany said. "She makes her own decisions. I just asked her nicely."

"Well you should ask her to more often," Vanessa said. "She looks killer in them." She put her hand on my arm and leaned even closer toward Tiffany. "Imagine if she wore them to school."

"That'll never happen," I said with my mouth full of ice cream.

"Honey," Tiffany said, putting her hand on my upper arm. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Just picture it," Vanessa said. "If she wore them every day to school, by the time she graduated she'd be so used to wearing them…" Vanessa looked at me and smiled. "She'd want to wear them all the time."

Tiffany looked at me. The conversation obviously got her thinking about it. I could tell by the half-dazed expression on her face. It was the look she got before we did our little role playing games. After a moment she shook her head. She turned her face back to look at Vanessa.

"Bailey's right," Tiffany said. "That'll never happen." She lowered her voice. "She has to go back to school as a boy. It would just be too complicated the other way."

"That's too bad," Tawny said, walking over to meet us. "I would've liked to see you go to school in something like that." Her eyes roamed my body.

"You want to see everyone in a dress, but yourself," Megan said, walking up behind Tawny.

"That's because only girly girls wear dresses," Tawny said, making Megan roll her eyes.

"What are we talking about?" Danielle said. She looked like a Barbie doll walking over toward us.

"We were talking about how cute it would be," Vanessa said, turning to Danielle. "If Bailey went to school as a girl."

"Aw," Danielle said. "You mean you don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to…" I looked past the girls surrounding me to prospect the rest of the room. "It just wouldn't be a good idea."

"You're probably right," Megan said. "It would be pretty hard to deal with."

"I can only imagine," Tawny said.

"My mother said I could do whatever when I graduate," I said.

"Well that's cool at least," Vanessa said.

"Really?" Tiffany asked. "You didn't tell me that."

"I'd say that makes you two even," Danielle said.

"What about after school?" Vanessa asked.

"I can dress after school and on weekends," I said.

"Cool!" Vanessa said. "Maybe you can hang with us as a girl every once in a while."

"Maybe," I said.

"That would be fun," Megan said, desperately trying to get a shy word into the conversation.

"We're going to start the movie soon," Tracy said from the kitchen doorway.

I stood beside Tiffany. We watched in silence as the other girls shuffled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Young, or Betty I should say, frantically went around cleaning. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to us, but I knew she wanted to eavesdrop. Tiffany waited for a little while, eating her ice cream and watching me eat mine.

"I wanna talk to you about something later," Tiffany said.

Her lips pressed against my cheek. They were cold and a bit sticky, but her kiss felt good. She brushed by me, and exited the kitchen. This left me alone with Betty. Before I could sneak off, Betty turned to face me. She dropped her hand, clenched around a mess of paper towels, down to her side.

"Everything okay?" Betty asked.

I nodded, unwilling at first to give up any information.

"You look a little concerned," she said.

"I've been through a lot this summer," I said.

"So I've heard," Betty said. "After Tiffany and Tracy told me about you…" She sighed. "Honestly I expected some boy to show up in drag, tripping around on his heels," Betty said. "I got to say, you really surprised me." She walked over closer to me. "You're darling."

"Thanks," I said quietly. A blush burned atop my cheeks.

"Then something dawned on me," Betty said. "You were at the pool party." She stepped even closer. "The pool party meant to be for all girls." Her eyebrows raised and she gave me a stern look.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Tiffany asked me to do it last minute. I didn't even know!"

"It's okay," Betty said, smiling. "You are a girl after all." She tossed the paper towels in the trash. "I'm going to let it slide for now." She looked me up and down. "I'm not going to forget though. You owe me! One for the pool party and another for this party."

"I'll make it up to you," I said. "I promise."

"You better!" Betty said. Then she broke into a smile. "I'm perfectly okay with you being a girl or a boy around here." She paused for a moment. "I'll just add it to your tab." She winked.

"Thanks Misses…" I caught myself. "Thanks Betty."

"Any time." Betty smiled at me again. "Go join the others."

I stepped out of the kitchen. My mind began circling around something I could do to make it up to Betty. Why did I promise? I didn't have a clue what she wanted, but maybe there was just an understanding now between us. As I came into the living room and saw Tiffany on the couch, I started to let it slip to the back of my mind. I sat on the end of the couch next to Tiffany, smoothing my skirt with my empty hand as I sat down. Before long the movie started, and I forgot all about my promise to Mrs. Young.

The first movie we watched was The Secret Garden. I suddenly noticed the resemblances between Tiffany and the lead actress. Not only did Tiffany look like her, but they also had the same playfulness about them. This little fact alone made me enjoy the movie a lot more. I started picturing Tiffany and I playing our little games in a secret garden. In the garden I could be Bailey, and nobody would care at all.

Tiffany finished off her ice cream, and moved closer to me. When I finished my ice cream, Tracy got up, before I could, and took our bowls to the kitchen. Eventually Tiffany put her head on my shoulder, and wrapped her arms around mine. I crossed my legs, like Melanie had shown me at the spa, with the right over the left toward her. Tiffany curled her legs beneath her, and put her left hand on my bare knee.

When Tracy came back in, the whole room shifted. Tracy sat on the other end of the couch, and Vanessa moved over to sit between her and Tiffany. Then Vanessa kicked her flip-flops off and swung her legs up onto Tiffany's lap. Her calves ended up in my lap, and her feet rested on the arm of the couch. I watched her ease her head down into Tracy's lap, then she turned to watch the movie.

At first I thought it was a little rude. It felt like Vanessa desperately made an effort to force herself into our private space. Then I saw Tracy was okay with it, as she started to run her hand through Vanessa's hair. Tiffany seemed okay with it too, as she had moved her left hand from my knee, to put it on Vanessa's left leg. After a minute or two, she started to move her hand up and down Vanessa's leg.

"Her legs are so smooth," Tiffany said quietly. "You should feel them."

Tiffany's blessing was all the motivation I needed. I moved my right hand up onto the side of Vanessa's left leg. Soon I had my hand sliding up and down her calf. Tiffany was right. Vanessa's legs were really smooth. Then Tiffany moved my left hand onto her own right thigh. She moved my hand up her inner thigh, until it brushed against her loose knit shorts.

"She's already shaving them," Tiffany said beside my ear. "Then she moisturizes twice a day." She turned her lips toward me even more. "They feel good don't they?"

I nodded.

"I started doing it too," Tiffany whispered. "Can you tell?"

"It feels nice," I said, trying not to draw any attention.

"I was thinking how sexy it would be if you started to do the same," Tiffany whispered, putting emphasis on the word sexy.

"I could try it," I said. "There isn't much to shave though."

"Do it anyway," Tiffany said. "For me."

"Okay," I said. My voice was barely audible. "I'll do it."

Tiffany licked my earlobe. "Thank you," she breathed into my ear. Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek and went back to watching the movie.

Before long I had my hands running over the legs of two girls. Tiffany stared straight ahead at the television screen. Each time I neared the hem of her shorts she would flinch. This caused me to retract my hand down her leg, and she would take a deep breath. Vanessa, after awhile, had closed her eyes, and was also breathing heavily. She opened her eyes every so often to check her surroundings, and would shut them again after a brief moment.

I surveyed the room for a moment. Kale and Danielle, who were sprawled out on the floor actually watching the movie, were oblivious to everything going on around them. In the oversized chair, to the left of the couch, Megan and Tawny were snuggled up closely. From the way they were situated, one could say Tawny took on the role of a boy, and Megan the role of a girl.

At first I thought Megan and Tawny were just acting overly friendly. Then I soon realized that didn't fit at all with the situation I witnessed. Megan shifted her legs over Tawny's lap, and let her head down to rest across Tawny's chest. She wrapped her arm around Tawny's midsection. Then Tawny lowered her lips to Megan's head and kissed her hair. I watched for a moment longer as Tawny started to caress Megan's nylon-clad legs.

"Don't Megan and Tawny make a cute couple?" Tiffany asked in a whisper near my ear.

Well that answered that question. I turned to whisper back. "Are they lesbians?"

"No silly," Tiffany said. "They're like us."

"What?" I really did not get what she said at first.

"You don't recognize Megan?" Tiffany asked.

I turned and looked at Megan. She did have certain familiar characteristics. I started to think I had seen her before, but I just couldn't place a finger on it. It dawned on me that I would need a little help on this one. Luckily Tiffany was prepared to help me out a little more. Though her hints were vague at best.

"She went to our school," Tiffany whispered.

"I'm gonna need a little more than that," I said.

"He was in our class last year, and fifth grade with you."

Then it hit me. I finally got what Tiffany had said about those two being like us. She just had to say it for me to know. Otherwise I wouldn't have figured it out at all. Megan was like me, another boy dressed up like a girl. She made one heck of a girl too from what I was looking at. Yet I still couldn't place her. I had to think for a moment, to think of her as a him.

"Brice…" Tiffany whispered.

"Brice Seong," I said, as his name finally came to me.

There was no way that was Brice. I couldn't picture him as his former self. In school he straddled the line between shy, quiet nerd and reclusive geek. He never actively sought friends, and I don't know if he ever had any in elementary school. As a girl he seemed to find plenty. Brice hadn't yet lost his shyness, but he looked happy where he was at, nestled up in the chair with Tawny.

"I can't believe it," I said. "He makes one cute girl."

"So do you," Tiffany said.

"What about them?" I asked, gesturing toward Tracy and Vanessa.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"Are they a couple too?"

"Oh, no…" Tiffany held in a giggle. "They've just been friends forever." She leaned in closer. "Remind me to tell you something later."

"Okay…"

I looked back at Megan. What I now knew, I couldn't believe. Someone out there happened to be going through exactly what I was going through. Not only that, but we were in the same town, not hundreds of miles apart. I wanted to talk to Megan about everything that night, but I never got the opportunity. However, what I learned stuck with me the rest of the night.

I thought about all the things I could talk to Megan about during the ride home. There were hundreds of questions I had to ask her. In the car, my mother asked the usual questions about how the party went. I brushed them off with simple answers. At one point I told her I wished I could have stayed the night, as we were having so much fun. She reminded me of Tom's rule, and that was the end of that.

Even in bed that night, as I drifted off to sleep in my lavender pajamas, I still couldn't stop thinking about Megan. It wasn't that I liked her, so much as I liked what we had in common. Somehow, among the mass confusion swimming around in my head, I found the will to drift off to sleep. I didn't know how long I slept, but I woke up around three in the morning. From the other room I could hear Tom and my mother arguing.

For a moment I remained still in my bed. I couldn't make out what they were saying though. So I slipped out from under my sheets, and set my feet down softly upon the carpet. I sneaked over to my door, and opened it quietly. Now I could make out what they were saying. After listening for a little while, I realized their argument centered around me.

"You told me you would learn to accept it," my mother said. "After all of that --"

"I said to let things happen naturally," Tom interjected. "Instead you're dragging him to salons and letting him get his hair styled like…"

"Like a girl?"

"Have you seen him Susan?" There was a slight pause. "Not only have you pushed him over the top with your little schemes, but now he's even acting like a little girl. What's next?" Another pause. "Are you going to take his shoes away and force him to wear heels from now on?"

"You could be more supportive," my mother said.

"There's a huge difference between supportive," Tom said, "and pushing someone down the path you want them to go. Now you're influencing what he even wears from day to day."

"Like you did at first?"

"And I admit it was a mistake," Tom said. "It only made him want it more." Another pause filled the tense atmosphere. "Now look at him! He's walking like a girl now, even sitting like one. Before long he'll be doing it naturally, and then what? I bet he even sits down to --"

"And you're saying it's all my fault?"

"Maybe you should stop pushing him to be your little daughter," Tom said. "Maybe you should let things run there natural course."

"Maybe they already have," my mother said. "Maybe this is what he wants!"

"Maybe what I want is for people to stop fighting over what I want," I said, now standing in their doorway.

"Bailey…" My mother started to rush over to hug me.

"No!" I said, pushing her away.

For some reason I saw her as the enemy now. As horrible as it sounded in my mind, Tom was right. I realized my mother had been pushing me into this. Tiffany, Kate, and now my new "teacher" Melanie were all trying to push me into being a girl. Maybe it didn't seem like a bad thing to them at the time, but at my age I started to think more and more that it was a bad thing. Tom's line of thinking started to wedge its way into my brain. They both stared at me, waiting for me to talk.

"Maybe I do have a problem," I said.

"No, Bailey…" my mother said.

"Let him finish," Tom said.

"Tom is right," I said. "I have to do this the right way." I looked at the floor. "I can't pretend I'm something I'm not, without knowing what I am first. If I'm supposed to stay a boy…" I looked up at Tom. "Then so be it." Then I looked at my mother. "If I'm messed up somehow, and I'm supposed to be a girl…" I looked back at Tom. "Then the doctor will know what to do."

"I'm glad to see you're thinking about this all logically," Tom said.

"Are you saying you want to see the doctor?" my mother asked.

"I want to know the truth about all of this," I said.

"Then I'll take you to see Doctor Peterson next week," my mother said.

"No." I shook my head. "I want to see the specialist Tom told me about."

"You talked to a specialist?" my mother asked Tom.

"I felt something had to be done," Tom said. "He's the best in the area with this sort of knowledge."

"Fine," mom said. "I'll take him. When's the appointment?"

"Mom…" I looked at the floor again. "I kind of want Tom to handle this."

"That's silly. I'm your mother!"

"Sue," Tom said. "There might be some issues he'd feel more comfortable talking to another male about." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'd like to handle this one."

"Oh…" My mother stepped back to sit on the bed. "Well if that's what you want."

"Thanks for understanding mom," I said.

Tom gave me a sincere look. "Why don't you run along back to bed?"

Back to bed I went. For at least half an hour I had a restless fit with my thoughts. I hope I didn't make the situation worse than it was, but for some reason I felt betrayed by my mother. After all, the clothes were her idea. The trip to the spa was her idea. I started to think even the parties and the female lessons with Melanie were her idea. Maybe she had some hidden desire, left over from dressing her brother up, to turn me into a girl.

Perhaps my mother had every woman in town involved. Then again, they all might've been on my side. I didn't know. However, what I did know, was that on Monday, Tom and I would be on the right track to figuring all of this out. I'm sure the doctor would know what was needed. With this slight peace of mind wrapping up all of my thoughts, I drifted off to sleep once more.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...