Two days before our scheduled departure for our new school, Dr. Adams removed my bandages. He left the catheter in and gave Amie and instructions on removal. It seemed simple enough. Everything seemed surreal but wonderful. My mom and Amie’s parents all warned us that the new curriculum would be much more challenging than that to which we had grown accustomed in public school. We both agreed that a more challenging curriculum would not be difficult since the public school seemed to be geared to the lowest common denominator.

We were also excited to discover what the girls were like at an exclusive private school. I worried that they Amie and Jamie
might be snobs, but I took comfort in the fact that Amie could deal with anybody. She could make friends with almost anyone. Those who refused to be friends she usually ignored.

We decided to have everything packed and ready on a Monday night and start out on the 3 hour trip across central Texas at 4 am. This would put us in San Antonio before 8 am. Anyone who has experienced Texas weather in August would understand the logic of this plan. This gave us time to get breakfast before heading to the school to see what kind of registration nightmare awaited us.

I once heard it said that driving across Texas is not a trip…it’s a career. Luckily we were going “only” about 200 miles. The trip went well, but it’s not a scenic route. The Katy mall is huge, but if you’re not going to shop, it’s just traffic. The turnoff to LaGrange was mildly interesting. Remember “Best Little Whorehouse in Texas”? That was about the end of the scenery. I was kind of glad I didn’t have a driver’s license. I laid back and found where I left off in “Huckleberry Finn”.

Amie looked at my book title. “Kind of a boy’s book, huh?”

“I guess, but it’s fun to read and you can learn a lot about the times it which the author lived. When you read history books, you get something like, ‘Rulers of the Spanish Empire, which had expanded north of Mexico City into present-day New Mexico and California, believed it would be advantageous to link California and New Mexico.’ Boring, right?

“Well,” I continued my defense, it’s a good rule that, if you’re going to write…write about what you know. Sure, you ‘know’ about things you’ve read, But Samuel Clements or, if you wish, ‘Mark Twain’, lived the things about which he wrote. When you read his books, you are not only entertained, but you get to know the ‘flavor’ of the period. You begin to understand the class system which had developed. This country was well on its way to developing a society not dissimilar to that our ancestors left in England. The history books might try to explain this, but ‘Mark Twain’ makes you understand it. At one point, when Huck Finn is helping Jim escape, he argues with his conscience about it because he feels he is stealing property from Jim’s owner. That tells me how commonly accepted slavery was in that day. Also, the dialect is fun to read aloud.”
“Wow. You wouldn’t over analyze, would you? Seriously, I’ve read ‘Tom Sawyer’, but haven’t got around to ‘Huckleberry Finn yet. I’m glad I haven’t because now I’ll look at it in a whole new light.”

“I think Tom and Huck have slightly different personalities from one book to the other. Of course, the book, ‘Huckleberry Finn’ is a little darker and more serious than ‘Tom Sawyer’.”

“Well, when you finish ‘Huckleberry Finn’ in a few minutes, maybe you can just use your eidetic memory and tell me the whole story.”
“I’m afraid you’d go to sleep if I talk that long. Going to sleep at the wheel at 80 miles per hour is probably not a good idea.”
“I’m only going 78…and a half, and have you noticed all the cars passing us? If someone wants to pass me on the highway, I’m happy to let them because I imagine them saying, ‘There’s a speed trap ahead. Please let it catch me...PLEASE?’ More than once, I’ve seen a car pulled over that passed me a few miles previously. When I do, I think, ‘You’re welcome’.”

“Well, you’re right about people passing us. A cop with radar has a lot of speeders from which to choose. He can ignore a couple of girls creeping along at on 78 miles per hour...excuse me 78 and a half.”

“This ‘Vette is cool for driving around town, but it sucks on a long trip like this. When we go home for a visit, we’re driving to the airport and taking a flight home. We’ll fly to Hobby Airport. It’s not nearly as far from River Oaks as Bush International.”

“My thoughts exactly, Amie, ‘Great minds…’ you know.”

“Get the MapQuest ready. We’re approaching San Antonio.”

The MapQuest led us to the school with no problem. We arrived at a gate which opened to a long drive. At the end of the drive were several beautiful brick buildings. Some of the buildings had ivy growing up the walls.

“Well,” said Amie, “we’ve made it to the Ivy League already.”

Amie parked the Corvette and we walked into the massive main building. A very neatly dressed woman sat at a desk. Her name tag said that she was “Miss. Burton”.

“Welcome,” she said gleefully. “You’re our very first arrivals this morning. Do you have your registration cards?”

We had our cards ready. She took them and said, “Welcome, Amie Adams and Jamie Simms. You are in room 101 in “Jane Long” building. You’re lucky. You’ll be close to almost everything and you can park your car right at your door. You’re already registered. I assume you have laptops. Your login information is in your room. You can log in and look at your schedules as soon as you get settled in.”
We both thanked her and proceeded back to the car to move it and unload what little we had. The van carrying the bulk of our possessions would arrive later that day. Our room was much larger than we expected, and from our window, we could see the main building entrance. We would be able to watch the other students arriving during the day. In the closet, school uniforms of several different sizes were hanging. We were to find a size that fit us and hang the others on a rack near the door. We would then be given several uniforms of the chosen size. Of course, we were the same size. I stood in front of the mirror in my new uniform. I began to wonder: “Is this a dream.” No. It was definitely reality. Thank goodness it was reality. This would be a horrible dream from which to awaken. I started thinking about what I would be doing at this moment if I hadn’t met Amie. I soon cast those thoughts aside. Why think about something so boring when reality was infinitely better.

Amie walked up and stood next to me looking at our reflections. “Honey,” she said, “we have it made. All we have to do is not screw up. Let’s vow to make perfect grades. Then, we’ll be on our way to the real Ivy League. We have one huge advantage over the other girls.”
“What’s that?”

“Boys…they’re a major stumbling block for so many girls. We don’t need them. Oh, we can have a ‘crush’ now and then, but they’ll soon realize that they come second or third in our priorities, if they figure in at all.”

“Cool,” I said. “We’re a self-contained learning machine, and neither of us is likely to get the other pregnant.”

“Right! I wonder what the probability of that would be. It would be a decimal point followed by several thousand zeros.”

I put my arms around her neck. She held my waist, “Zeros and ‘exes’”, I said. She pulled me closer and kissed me as if she would never stop. When she did stop, she looked at my face.

“Jamie, you’re blushing. How sweet. I love everything about you. Even your blushing. Well, there is one thing that’s a problem, but it will be taken care of in time.”

“I can’t believe I have to wait until I’m 18 to have corrective surgery. I wish there were another way.”

“Funny you should mention that. My dad and your mom are actually looking at the possibility of you having surgery overseas. They could arrange to do it secretly in the states, but they’re both too much ‘by the book’ to do something like that. My dad is investigating the work of different physicians in Thailand. If he can find someone he trusts, you could have surgery during the Christmas break.”

“Oh my God, Amie, that would be wonderful!”

“Yes. I know my dad, and he’ll find someone. You’ll be all girl…and I’m claiming you now. You’ll be all MY girl! Jamie…your eyes…are those tears?”

“Maybe,” I said, my voice breaking. “I never thought I could be so happy!

Well, you’re beautiful even when you’re crying.

There was a light knock on the door. Amie opened the door. It was Miss Burton. “Just checking. Are you girls happy with your room?”
She looked at me. “Tears? What is it?”

“Just a slight touch of homesickness”, Amie explained.

“Oh, dear. Well, when classes start, you won’t have time for homesickness. Besides, you can call home anytime after classes. I see you’ve both found your uniform sizes. I’ll go ahead and take the rest of these and make sure you get some more of the sizes you need.”
She took the uniforms and left.

“Look,” Amie said, “new arrivals”. A silver Cadillac SUV was pulling up to the front of the main building. When it stopped, a tall, slender girl with very short brown hair stepped out. She wore jeans and a white, man’s dress shirt. From a distance, she appeared to be wearing no makeup. She didn’t need makeup. She was a natural beauty, but she was built more like a young boy. She had slender hips and, apparently was not wearing a bra. It was hard to tell because the shirt was a little large for her.

“Well,” said Amie, “it’s pretty easy to read her. 'Boys…forget it!’ Let’s make friends with her, but not real close friends…you know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. She really is beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, boys are going to cry when they find out they don’t have a chance. They should know that just by one look at her, but boys can really be dense.”

“She probably carries a sharp knife in those jeans, and any boy who goes too far is liable to wind up without balls.”

“Oh…that’s why the bulge,” Amie said. “I thought maybe…”

We both giggled as the new girl headed in the building. She definitely didn’t walk like a boy, but she had an air of confidence about her. She seemed to be one who knew where she was going and what she wanted when she arrived.

Students began arriving with increasing frequency. They all had at least two things in common: they arrived in style and, almost without exception, they were beautiful.

Amie noticed the latter. “They must have a beauty rule at this school. I wonder if our parents had to send a picture of us to get us admitted.”

“Well, I guess we made the cut. Let’s look at our schedules.”

We got out our laptops and went through the necessary procedure to set up usernames and passwords. Whoever set up the school software knew what she was doing. That was a relief because so often websites are done by someone who thought being a programmer would be cool, so they went to night school and got a paper that said, “This person is a computer programmer.” The “programmer” then set up a website full of glitches that sent the user in circles without accomplishing anything. Any problem was automatically called “user error” or “data entry error”

This school’s site, however, was seamless and simple to use. We looked at our schedules and, amazingly they were identical!

“Wow,” I said, “that can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, said Amie. Probably my dad’s doing.”

“Your dad is amazing,” I said.

“I know. I realize that more every day.”

Suddenly, both laptops beeped. A message popped up, “Any students wishing to have brunch can proceed to the cafeteria. If you have special dietary requirements which you have not yet communicated to the school, please see Miss Winston in the office adjacent to the cafeteria.”

Amie and I looked at each other. “Let’s eat!” we said in unison.

The cafeteria was not hard to find. When we got there, we found almost anything a person could want for brunch. If you didn’t find something to your liking, a cook was standing by ready to fix whatever you could want (within reason). Amie and I piled our plates with bacon, eggs, and fruit. There was plenty whole milk to wash it down. Diet? All that was to us was the word “die” with a “t” added. We were growing girls, and we wanted lots of fat to grow us in the right places. My breasts were growing so fast I could almost see the difference daily. If Amie’s breasts grew any more, I figured she would fall forward. She wouldn’t fall on her face, though. Her breasts would stop her. Her whole body was a work of art and, incredibly, she grew more beautiful daily.
We ate until we could hold no more. It seemed that the school must have hired the best cooks they could find. We left the cafeteria and headed back to our room for a nap.

But, a nap was not in the cards for us. The “man with the van” was there with all the things we thought we couldn’t live without. He was willing to unload it all, but we decided to help him so the work would go faster and we could place most things in places that would be more convenient for us when we started sorting them out. When we got everything in our room, it was not as large as it had seemed before. We began the process of prioritizing our possessions. Some of the things we thought we needed so badly now became clutter, and back to the van they went. Curtis (the “van man”) didn’t mind. I’m sure he was very well paid. When we were done, he headed back to Houston with the van more than half full.

By this time, we were past needing a nap. We began sorting out what now were the “bare necessities”. Most people would be amazed at the amount of clothing, shoes, underwear, trinkets, toys, keepsakes, pictures, etc. that we found indispensable. As we sorted, we found creative ways to place items to make the most efficient use of space. When we were done, we had a beautifully decorated dorm room with plenty of space. We also each had a spacious study area. These areas were the most important because study was the whole purpose of our being there. We realized that, unlike when we were in public school, we were not the smartest kids in school…at least, not yet. We didn’t know what kind of competition we were up against, but we knew that some of the other students were as smart or smarter than we were. We had a challenge ahead, just how much of a challenge we did not yet know. This could have been scary, but I found it more exciting. Amie didn’t seem worried a bit. I knew she was smart, but I didn’t know how smart. If there was any lacking in her intelligence, (which was doubtful) she made up for it in confidence.

At 5 pm, a message came across the laptops offering dinner. We went down and had a light dinner, then went back to our room to put the finishing touches on our decorating. At 8 pm, we decided to turn in and get a good night’s sleep so we could face whatever challenges awaited us on our first day of classes. Our room had twin beds with a window between them. We decided to ask the next day if we could have a double bed, saying it would take up less room. If someone suspected we had some other reason…OK. Suspect away! If they think we’re lesbians or something like that, they could just get over it.

I lay down and closed my eyes and wondered how long it would take me to go to sleep. I opened my eyes again and the room was bright. Had Amie turned on the light? No…it was light outside, too. I looked at the clock and it was 6:45 am. Wow, I thought. I slept fast! Today was the day we find out what private school is all about. It was like starting a new chapter in our lives. I looked at Amie’s bed. It was empty. She was already in the bathroom getting ready. One decision was already made for us. What to wear. I had to admit, the uniforms were a time saver. Breakfast was from 7 am to 7:45 am. First class was at 8 am. Our first class was math. Classes were 1 hour 10 minutes, with a 10-minute break between classes. An interesting aspect of our schedule was that Physical Education was our last class. This would enable us to go back to our dorm room to shower, affording us more privacy. Once again, we saw our parents’ influence on our schedule.

In the public schools, the emphasis recently was on a heavy homework schedule. My mom suspected that the purpose of this development was to push job of teaching the important things (the 3 R’s) off onto the parents, so that the teachers could concentrate on the politically correct issues, such as gender equality, gay rights, and transgender rights (ha…imagine that!). The problem with this is those students whose parents have little education or those parents who don’t realize that the teaching job has been assigned to them are less likely to be involved in their children’s education, thus perpetuating an inferior education for the poor.

In our new private school, classes were intense learning sessions and homework was assigned to ascertain that the students were learning. Those not keeping up with the class were given special attention to get them up to speed because, once allowed to get behind too far, it was almost impossible to catch up. This special attention was also intense. The parents are called and made aware of the situation because a child must be brought up to speed or ultimately the child must be held back a grade. This is looked down upon in the public schools, but in a private school there is the issue of tuition.

Generally, a parent doesn’t want to pay tuition twice for the same grade level. Summer classes with reduced tuition are made available to try to keep the student from having to repeat a grade.

This type of remedial work is rare, however, because the students admitted to the school are generally well above average academically.

The intense nature of the teaching in the classroom left little time for the little distractions so common in public schools such as note passing and chit chat. The fact that the school was for girls only eliminated competition for boyfriends or girlfriends, at least for heterosexual relationships. There was, or course, a thriving community of relationships that the school did their best to ignore. Some were just relationships among girls who had occasional spats, some were lesbians who had breakups and other problems similar to heterosexual relationships.

Still, the school seemed to function well and turned out well-educated young women.

Math class was mostly review. Second period was history, where I was thankful for my eidetic memory because the textbook was so incredibly boring. The teacher’s lecture did make it come to life a little, but I tucked away all the textbook information in preparation for the tests to come.

English was a breeze because grammar is mostly rules. Rules are something at which I excel. I guess I inherited that ability from my attorney mom. Even the exceptions to the rules were easy because an exception to a rule is essentially another rule.
My memory would carry me through Spanish, also. That left Physical Education. I loved volleyball. All other sports I hated with a passion. I would have to do a good acting job to make an “A” in PE.

All this going on academically left little time to think about one really important aspect of my life; the fact that I was transitioning from male to female. That fact came to mind with less frequency as time passed. I felt that it wouldn’t be long before the idea would be a relic of the past that would be of questionable validity. In could see myself in the future wondering, “Is it possible that I was actually a boy at some time in my life? I think I remember having a tiny penis. Maybe that was a dream…or a nightmare. I can’t see myself as a man. That’s such an odd concept.” Maybe at some point in the future, I could be hypnotized to forget that I was born with such a repulsive appendage.

Being the first day, PE class was spent getting fitted for shorts and tops. Most of the time was spent sitting around chatting. I sat in a corner. I just didn’t feel like chatting. Amie, of course, introduced herself to several others who she thought might make worthy allies. They would, or course, be OUR allies. Amie saw me sitting alone and realized I was happy having “alone” time. I would meet the new friends in due time. I was happy that she recognized my need to be alone, and I appreciated her taking the responsibility of making friends for both of us.

My “alone” time was very important to me. If it was quiet, that was even better. Sometimes, a television or radio playing would get to be too much. If I had the controls, I would mute it. I found the ensuing silence beautiful.

I thought about just leaving and going to the dorm, but it was a little early to start making waves. I wouldn’t mind, but it would affect Amie also. At some point, we had set our individual selves aside and become a team. That was fine with me. It seemed to make everything easier. She filled in a place in my life where something was missing and, I guess, I provided something she needed. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I was happy with the arrangement and she seemed to be also.

I noticed that Amie was being measured for P.E. clothes. She waved for me to come over, and asked that I be measured right away because we were roommates and needed to both get our room in order. We were quickly measured and dismissed. We headed back to the dorm. We felt too tired to review the day’s classwork, but once we got to our room, showered, and relaxed a little, we both felt better and we quickly reviewed our classwork.

We finally lay down to sleep, and after a few seconds, Amie’s voice broke through the dark. “You wouldn’t believe how many lesbians attend this school!”

I was incredulous. “What? How did you find that out so fast?”

“Oh..I had my ‘gaydar’ out. A little suggestive chit chat and out they come.”

“’Gaydar’ huh? I don’t think I have that.”

‘You will”, she assured me. “Just give it time.”

I smiled in the dark, then drifted off to sleep.