“Ten-HUT,” Rupe, the quarterback for practice today, yells out confidently. He takes the snap for the last play of the day as I run the route we had been practicing. I jump and easily catch the ball that he had thrown spot-on.

At that very instant, Butch (yes, he really fits his name) trips as he comes in to ‘tackle’ me. The result is that he really DOES tackle me—hard. He comes down on me with his full force—and he weighs twice what I do, being a year older than me and already having started puberty several months ago.

I feel a really sharp pain in my shoulder and tears come to my eyes right before I black out…

I come to and my head hurts really bad. Allen is talking to a woman in a white coat. I am in some room that looks sort of like a hospital room, but not. The doctor looks over and sees my eyes open, she gets a relieved look on her face.

She comes over and says, “Hi, Hon. Can you tell me your name?”

I start to nod, but it hurts too much. I say, “Vick…Victor Fitzsimmons.”

She smiles and says, “And can you tell me what day it is?”

I groan and say, “The last of day school before summer… Friday. Why did Butch hit me so hard? My head hurts…”

She smiles again and says, “It is my understanding that ‘Butch’ tripped and hit you by mistake. It wasn’t his fault. I am sure that your head does hurt, there is little doubt that you have a concussion—we will work on that in a minute. Your shoulder is also injured; we will have to work on that, too. I am Dr. Angelica, by the way. You can call me Angi.”

When she mentions my shoulder, I realize that it hurts like hell, too. My head throbs. I look around and say, “Where am I? This doesn’t look like a real hospital.”

She giggles and says, “It is a private clinic. It is the closest medical facility to the school and with you being unconscious, they decided to bring you here. It is a good thing they did—you could have been in a coma for a long time. Don’t worry, we are fully accredited and functional.”

I look at Allen and ask, “Does Mom know?”

He nods and says, “Of course! I was already there to pick you up. She has to come from all the way across town and it is Friday rush hour. I can let her know not to kill herself getting here now that you are awake, though.”

He turns away to make a call on his cell.

The doctor looks back at me and says, “Now, let’s get you something for that pain—luckily you were only out for a couple of minutes. Still, I can’t give you anything really strong until I get you a cat scan. Then we will set your shoulder; it is separated.”

She gives me a shot of something and I feel better almost immediately. The harsh roar of the Niagara Falls in my head dulls to a more reasonable Class 5 rapid.

Allen comes back in and says, “There was a big accident on the freeway; it will take hours before your Mom can get here—she is stuck between the exits with no way off. She is alright, though, so don’t worry.”

Doctor Angelica, Angi, says, “Well, young Vick here is not going anywhere tonight anyway—I want to keep him for observation until I am sure there is no long-term, or permanent damage. Even assuming not, your sports days are over for the summer.”

I groan, “What about sports camp? It starts next week?”

She says, “I am afraid not! You are going to have to rest that shoulder for a couple of weeks and I don’t want to even think of you bumping that head again!”

I groan and they wheel me out to do my cat scan. Then they tape up my shoulder. After I get back to my room, the doctor says things look OK and gives me a stronger dose of pain meds. I feel funny as she injects in into my arm but really good—like I am on clouds or something.

I just lay there with a goofy grin on my face when Mom finally comes in. I don’t really get everything they’re saying, but it is something like ‘he has an extreme concussion and will need to stay for several days but as long as he is quiet there is no real danger’.

I am in a blissful stupor the rest of the day. I barely notice Mom sitting there, holding my hand.

She kisses me as she and Allen leave. She says, “Hon, you are going to have to stay here a while. I have to leave on a trip, but can be back at a moment’s notice. The doctor assures me that you will be fine with a lot of rest and there is nothing I can do if I am here. So, you will stay and rest as long as you need. Allen will be here to look after you if you need anything, OK?”

I nod sort of stupidly, not fully processing what she is saying. I am just too out of it to have any sort of emotional response—even though I sort of process that Mom seems worried. She kisses me again and they leave to get something to eat.

The night is literally a blur. I am not allowed to sleep, but the meds keep me in a stupor. Mom is there until sometime early in the morning, napping in a lounge-chair in my room.

Finally, she gives me a kiss and says, “Be good, Hon. The doctor says you can leave in a couple of days to a week—as soon as she is sure that you are OK. Listen to her and Allen, OK? He has the authority to do whatever needs to be done and I am only a plane ride away, OK? I love you!”

And she hurries off; a haunted look in her teary eyes.

The next couple of days are really boring—at least what I can remember of them, but at least I am allowed to sleep the second night.

On the third day, I am feeling better. Well, at least my head is—my shoulder is still really sore.

Allen comes in and sits down. He gives me a pitying look and says, “Well, sport, I just dropped Albert off at the bus station—he is on his way to camp. I am sorry you are missing out on your camp. I am also sorry you are going to have to stay here a couple of weeks…at least.”

I sit straight up and instantly regret it. I hold my head and ask, “What did you say? Why? I thought a couple more days—at most!”

Allen just gives me conspiratorial look and says, “Well, the doctor didn’t want me to say anything. She was afraid it would depress you. I think that you are old enough to handle the truth, though. She is thinking that you may have to stay in the hospital here most of the summer. She seems really worried that you somehow hurt your head again.”

I give him an imploring look and say, “Please! There has to be something we can do! You’re in charge of me while Mom is gone. Make Angi let me leave!”

He shakes his head and says, “Well, she did mention a camp that starts next week. She sponsors it and she thought it could be safe for you—but you would have to pass some tests…”

I look at him a glimmer of hope, but I didn’t quite like his tone—like he was embarrassed, or something. I ask, “What kind of camp? Tests?”

He nods and says, “Yes, they are a combination of medical tests to show you are ready and an entrance exam. I guess it is a pretty exclusive camp… It is…well…it is a ‘creative’ camp.” He raises his hands and says, “Look, I know it is not a sports camp—but it DOES get you out of here…”

I look at him incredulously, “Cre…at…ive camp…? What is that? It would get me out of here? Entrance EXAM?”

He just nods and gives me a wink, “I have the answers…”

I blink.

He says, “Look, this isn’t something you’ll pass unless I help you. I pulled some strings with my connections and got the questions—and more importantly, I have the answers. Angi can have no idea that I gave you these, though, OK? You have to be completely convincing.”

I swallow and nod.

He hands me a sheath of papers and I look through them. The questions are really weird. The answers even more so.

He says, “I am going to go get some coffee. I will test you in an hour. Can you have the answers memorized by then?”

I shake my head at the weird questions, but say, “Yeah…I think so…”

An hour later, I am answering the multiple choice questions as he grills me. I get a perfect score on the second and third try.

He says, “OK, nice. I am pretty sure you can ace the exam… Now…I have to tell you… Well, I don’t know how to put this… Umm… Like I said it is a creative camp… If she asks you anything about being OK with pretending to be a girl—or dressing like one… It would be best if you convinced her that you are totally OK with that…even better that it would be completely normal for you. The camp is all about flexibility. If she thinks that you aren’t willing to be flexible, then you won’t get in.”

I look at him like he is crazy. I am actually sure he is.

He just shrugs and says, “Or you COULD stay here…”

o~O~o

“Well these results are very illuminating. Is there anything that you want to tell me, Vick?” Angi gives me a piercing stare.

I look at her and shake my head.

She says, “I see. Well, can you tell me something? If you imagine yourself in a dress… How would you feel?”

I blush and remember what Allen had said. I say in a quiet voice, “It would feel…normal…”

She nods and says, “OK, Vick. Then tell me…if you were wearing that dress…feeling normal…what would you call yourself?”

I take a quick breath and wonder what to say… I say the first name that comes to mind…that of my arch-enemy from kindergarten, “Paige…”

She smiles and says, “OK, Paige. Would you like to go to my camp next week?”

I nod and smile shyly.

She says, “OK, Paige. I would love to have you there. I want you to experience being a girl—is that OK?”

My head is swimming. I want to say ‘hell no!’, but then I think about having to stay here all summer and say, “Sure! That sounds wonderful!” I feel like I am going to puke.

She comes over and gives me a hug. She says, “This is a big breakthrough, Hon. Don’t worry, Sweetie, you will have fun, I promise!”

I nod; no idea what she is talking about.

She says, “I am going to give you some medicine to help you feel that way, OK? Allen has said it is OK, if you want it.”

I simply nod—I have no idea what is going on…

She has me roll over onto my stomach and gives me two shots in the butt. The second one stings. She says, “OK, Hon. All done. I think you are well enough to take the bus to camp tomorrow. In case you have lost track, tomorrow is Sunday. Camp actually starts on Monday, but I want you to take it easy and this way you will have a little extra time to settle in.”

I rub my butt and nod. I still have no idea what just happened.

The next morning, Allen comes in early and says, “Well, Sport, you convinced her. Well done! I let your Mom know that you are going to camp and she is ecstatic. She was a bit surprised that you wanted to go to creative camp. I explained that you WANTED to—it is important that she think that. She doesn’t know that the doctor was going to keep you. We need to keep that a secret between us guys, OK? No one can know I told you. Let’s do a secret handshake on it!”

He makes me do the stupid ‘secret’ handshake that he does with Albert. I promise I won’t tell. He says, “Your Mom is held up at that offsite meeting and won’t make it back before you leave, but she promises to come see you on parent’s day at camp. OK?” I bite my lip nervously and he smiles and leaves.

Angi comes in and says, “Paige! Are you excited to go to camp? I want you to be the best girl you can be there. Do you promise?”

Afraid that she will make me stay here if I balk, I enthusiastically nod and bite my lip. I almost DO balk when she pulls out a dress and says, “Do you need help? Have you ever worn one?”

I nod and say, “Yes, I…need…help.” Then I shake my head and says, “No, I haven’t ever worn one.”

She smiles and says, “Well, that is an important first step—admitting you need help! I am proud of you. But I tell you what, since you have never worn one and don’t really know how to be out in one, why don’t we go with a nice pair of jeans and a top for now?”

I feel a wave of relief pour over me. It was some stupid test and I won’t have to wear it.

She takes a shopping bag and hands it to me. She says, “Allen got these for you to wear to camp. I will bring you some more things when I come down tomorrow, OK? Now, be a good girl and put these on. Your ride will be here soon.”

She leaves me alone in the room and I look in the bag and nearly faint. The ‘jeans’ are bright pink and REALLY girly with all kinds of embroidery and jewels. The shirt is at least from Star Wars, but it is a pale pink, as well, with a storm trooper on it. It has the word ‘Trooper’ written underneath it. I wonder if that is supposed to mean anything.

I take out the rest of the things, all girls, of course, including pink panties with hearts all over them, pink socks with lace, and you guessed it, glitzy pink shoes.

I groan and take off the hospital gown, which I really only now notice is a pale pink, as well, and step into the panties. I do have to admit that they feel much nicer than my normal undies, but not enough that I really want to wear them. I put on the shirt and notice that it too is much softer than my normal shirts. It is also cut funny—the sleeves fall on my arms differently and the waist is tighter.

Finally, I groan and put on the sock and shoes.

Angi comes in just as I am finishing tying the shoes and says, “You look adorable. You can wear heels later—once I am thoroughly convinced your head injury and balance are OK.”

She surprises me then by putting makeup on me and telling me what the stuff is she is using. Something about mascara and lip gloss.

I look at myself in the mirror…shocked, devastated, and confused… I look like one of the girls from my class…

She says, “You look really sweet, Paige. I expect you to be a real girl at camp…and beyond. OK? If it gets to be too much, though, be sure and tell me. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed. You will always be welcome and safe here, OK?”

Of course, I saw that as the threat it was: ‘Be good or come back here to rot’. I nod—terrified.

She hugs me and says, “OK, come on, Sweetie, the van should be here any second. I will be there tomorrow. I won’t be there the whole time, but I will be looking out for you—I promised Allen and your Mom. You’re going to be there for six weeks, after all…”

I nearly faint, but pretend to hug her back. I follow her out, feeling like a complete idiot dressed like this. I should be in a football uniform!

She leads me out to the van and I pretend to smile as I get in. I wave ‘enthusiastically’ as the van pulls off.

I look over at a boy sitting next to me and blush thinking of how I am dressed. He looks at me and smiles—he must be a year or so older than me and says, “Hi, I am Ian. What’s your name?”

I start to automatically say, ‘Vick’, but catch myself and say, “Paige.” There is no telling if it is another test to see how I answer. I don’t want to be stuck in that hospital room all summer; a week was enough. Although, I am beginning to wonder if THIS is really any better…

Ian just nods and says, “Hi, Paige. I’m sure I’ll see you around. I guess you’re in Camp Pink, then?”

I shrug and say, “Ummm…I have no idea. I just got signed up yesterday, really. It sort of happened really fast.”

He just nods and says, “Well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around camp.” Before I can say anything else, he starts playing on his phone and doesn’t say another word.

I sit there and watch him for a bit—wishing I had a phone to play on. My thoughts drift to what Allen had said before I left and Angi had given me these clothes, “Remember, no one can know that I gave you the answers. You can’t let ANYONE know that those aren’t YOUR answers. You can’t let ANYONE know that you’re not comfortable being a girl. Remember, if anyone finds out, we will BOTH get in trouble—especially you, though. They will think that your head injury is worse than they thought and that you just made it all up. You know what THAT means, right? I did this for you, Sport, OK? Don’t let me down!”

I am not really sure what it WOULD mean if I said anything, but I’m sure that I really don’t want to find out. Allen was most emphatic about not letting Mom know. He said he didn’t want her to worry about me—so I couldn’t ever let her know. He said this is a win-win: I get out of the hospital and get to go to camp and Mom knows I am safe. I had just nodded. I am pretty sure he is right about that. Mom CAN’T know that I cheated to get out of there—no matter what.

I look around the van. It is full with a mix of boys and girls—ten in total. It seems like most of the kids know each other. The boys are mostly playing some game on their phones. The girls are mostly chatting and giggling. I watch the boys, envious of their ability to play games. I blush as some of the girls look my way and giggle. I figure they know…

Finally, after about an hour, the bus pulls through some gates that say “Imagine Nation Creativity Camp” and then up to a house that says, “Pink House”. The driver says, “OK, you girls know who gets off here. Paige, that includes you!”

I startle as three girls get their things as start getting out.

I look up and the driver smiles at me and then says, “Have fun, Hon!”

My heart is beating like a drum as I get up to step out of the van.

Ian smiles at me says, “See you later, Paige!”

I smile wanly at him and nervously step out of the van. The three girls that had gotten out ahead of me are waiting. One of them, in a short pink skirt and white t-shirt says, “Hi! I’m Brenda. This is Julia and this is Georgette.”

As she names the other two girls, the first, in a pink dress smiles at me; the second in pink jeans sort of like mine and a white tee raises her hand. They both say, “Hi!,” at the same time.

I nervously smile and say, “Hi! I’m…Paige.”

Brenda says, “Welcome to Pink House. I guess this is your first year here? I don’t remember seeing you last year… This is my—well, our—third year.”

I nod and say, “Yes, this is my first year. I was going to go to sports camp, but then…” I am not sure how to explain things, then decide to go with as close the truth as possible to make it easier. “…I got hurt and found out about this camp when I was in the hospital. I just finally signed up, like yesterday…”

Georgette looks at me and asks, “Sports camp? Are you a T-Girl, like me?”

I give her a confused look and Brenda says, “You know—transgendered. Are you in a boy’s body?”

I nod and say, “Ummm…yeah. This is all really new…”

Georgette says, “Well, the main thing is that you can be yourself! Did your parents have problems with you—or did you just keep it bottled up?”

I say, “I, ummm, never said anything…”

Brenda says, “And you’re already in Pink House? Wow! Nice—you must have been desperate if Angi let you in here that quickly. But after seeing how you were eying the boys on the bus, that isn’t really a surprise I guess—yes, we noticed.” They all giggle.

Julia says, “Just so you know, Brenda and I are both G-girls. You know genetic girls. Our parents are both big into the LGBT movement and so are we. There are actually more G-girls in Pink than T-girls, which is a shame, but don’t worry—we’re all on your side.”

Brenda says, “Yep! Come on, Paige! We’ll show you around.”

They take me into the cabin and I am immediately immersed in a PINK and GIRLY HELL! I groan internally and, once again, ask myself if I should just take my licks and go back to the hospital for the summer.

Georgette says, “There are a total of around twenty girls in the cabin. We don’t really make any distinction between ‘T’ and ‘G’—I was just curious. You know there is a high bar to get into Pink and you must have passed the exam if you are here.”

Julia nods and says, “Yes, you are just one of us girls—as is every other girl here. Since you are new to both the camp AND to your real gender, we’ll all be looking out for you and helping you adjust.”

They all surprise me and come over and give me a big group hug. I feel really awkward and wonder what they are talking about when they refer to my ‘real’ gender...

Brenda says, “Yes, it took us quite a while to get Georgette to loosen up last year when she finally made it to Pink. Being brought up as a boy can really mess with you, but I promise that no one will know you are not a girl by the time camp is over! And everyone knows that Pinks rule! We are the girliest of them all!”

I feel my heart drop to my feet as I think to myself, “I am officially in HELL! What am I going to do?”

At that moment a GORGEOUS girl, probably around eighteen, comes in and says, “OK, girls. Give them up!” She smiles and says, “Hi, Brenda! Hi, Julia! Hi, Georgette! And you must be Paige. Welcome to camp and to Pink House! I am your counselor, Francine. Don’t worry—I know EXACTLY how you feel, Hon! I was in your shoes not so long ago.”

The others go over and give her a big hug and hand over their cell phones. Francine comes over and gives me a hug and asks, “Do you have a cell?”

I say, “Well, I do—but not with me. I didn’t have it in the hospital when I left from there.”

Francine nods and says, “Yes, I heard you had a close call. I’m glad you’re doing better. We’ll take it easy on you until Angi says it’s OK to loosen the reins a bit. She’ll be checking up on you pretty regularly—especially since this is your first month…”

She waves as she heads out the door and says, “I’ll see you at dinner, girls. I’ve got some things to finish up.”

I look at the girls surrounding me and ask, “What’s with the cells?”

Brenda says, “It’s so that we are forced to be more ‘social’.” She makes air quotes with her fingers and continues, “Like social media isn’t! Anyway, it doesn’t usually bother us girls as much—but it KILLS the boys to lose their games!”

They all giggle and I suddenly understand why there was that air of desperation coming from them on the bus. I had already had a week in the hospital to get over the initial withdrawal of my favorite games, although, I really miss playing them—and now will have to get by another SIX WEEKS…

My hell just got worse: No sports AND no games PLUS this pink nightmare…

The girls show me around the camp. It is actually pretty big. There are a lot of different cabins—all designated by a color. There is also a large ‘Creativity Center’ which looks like a big auditorium with a lot of little rooms attached to it. There are rooms with costumes, rooms with art supplies, rooms with instruments… Anything that is anyhow related to the arts seems to be represented here.

I feel the loss of my sports camp as we walk through the center. That camp was very much like this—only dedicated to sports… I am not the artistic type—or, at least I have never had any interest in any of it. I honestly don’t know if I am any good at anything other than rough and tumble sports.

We walk around a while longer and wind up at the ‘swimming hole’, which is actually a well-maintained lake. There are mostly boys swingout out and jumping into the lake from a rope swing.

I sigh and Julia says, “Do you like to do things like that? It’s OK, you know.”

I shake my head and say, “I doubt they would let me, even if—not after my injury. Angi is afraid I’ll hit my head again and my shoulder would never be able to take that strain.”

Brenda says, “But you can swim, right? Surely that won’t hurt—if you’re not jumping in?”

I shrug my good shoulder and say, “I guess…I am not really sure, yet. Angi’ll be here tomorrow and I guess I’ll know more…”

After that we go to the camp cafeteria for supper. There are maybe thirty kids there. We get in line and get our food. I find that I am sort of nauseous, so I only take some chicken noodle soup and some crackers.

Georgette notices and just says, “Don’t worry, it’ll get better after a couple of weeks…”

I think to myself, “I HOPE my nerves settle down before then…” I say, “Yeah, I hope so—I might starve!”

The girls giggle and I eat while they chat away. I don’t think they have stopped chattering the whole time we have been together. They keep trying to pull me into the talk, but it is about clothes, or makeup, or boys…nothing I am remotely interested in—or could talk about even if I wanted.

After we finish eating, we go back to the pink hell and I notice a pink duffle bag on the bed that has my name on it. The cabin has five bedrooms, each with four beds. The four of us are in one room.

I go over and unzip it to find more panties, socks, a pink skirt, a blouse, a pair of pink flat girl’s shoes, and a nightgown.

Julia says, “I hope that isn’t supposed to last you all six weeks!” All three girls giggle.

I shrug and say, “Angi said something about bringing me more, tomorrow…”

Georgette nods at my pajamas and says, “I have an idea, girls! Let’s get into our PJs and do each other’s nails!”

Julia says, “Awesome idea! I have some totally awesome colors!”

Brenda nods enthusiastically and says, “Me too! Let’s!”

I don’t know what just happened, but all of a sudden the girls are running around like crazy pulling off their clothes and putting on their ‘PJs’, which turn out to be nightgowns, as well. I am blown away that they are just getting UNDRESSED out in the open like that.

It is apparent that Julia and Brenda have no bulge in their panties. I am surprised when I don’t see one in Georgette’s panties, either.

Brenda looks at me and asks, “Are you OK, Paige?”

I shake my head and say, “I…I…I’m used to the boy’s locker room. This is…overwhelming.” I start to cry and don’t know why.

Georgette comes over and hugs me. She says, “It’s OK, Paige. THAT will get better, too... Now, come here and put this on. It’s just us girls, OK. You’re not in the boy’s locker room. Girls don’t belong there, right?”

I wipe my eyes and shudder a little. Not knowing what else to do, I take off my shoes and socks, then my jeans and my shirt and stand there in my panties—my slight bulge very apparent. I pull the silky nightgown over my head. It barely covers my panties and it feels really weird to have my legs bare this way.

Georgette smiles and says, “OK, now I know why you were embarrassed. No one has shown you how to tuck?”

She comes over and gently pushes me down onto the bed. She surprises me when she pulls down my panties and matter-of-factly explains how to push my testicles up into my abdomen and how to pull my penis pack between my legs—all while demonstrating ON ME!

Since I haven’t entered puberty yet, there is no reaction from the little guy—luckily. That is not to say that I am not embarrassed! I blush and Brenda giggles.

She says, “Now that we have THAT taken care of—we need to take care of those raccoon-eyes!”

I give her a confused look and she pulls me to the vanity. It feels weird with my ‘junk’ tucked away, but it doesn’t hurt—thankfully. I look in the mirror and see that the mascara that Angi had put on my eyes had run down my face where I cried a bit ago. I can’t help but laugh at myself. I look ridiculous—and the absurdity finally breaks through my confusion.

It feels good to laugh, although the girls coach me on turning that into a giggle.

Brenda takes out some sort of wipe and shows me how to wipe the black streaks off of my face and then makes me turn right around and reapply mascara to my lashes. She shows me how and in no time, I look like I did before—only this time, the mascara is heavier and my lashes seem thicker and longer. More like all three of the girls in the room with me.

I stand up and notice my short gown ride up. I see my panties in the mirror and get a chill when I see that I am as flat as the girls in the room.

At that moment, Francine knocks on our door and comes in. She asks, “Hi, girls! What are you up to?”

Julia says, “Hi, Francine! We are getting ready to do each other’s nails. Wanna take part?”

She giggles and says, “You KNOW I do! Don’t you dare start without me!”

I am amazed. This is a beautiful girl; several years older than any of us in the room—although, I have a suspicion I am the youngest—and she is willing to take part in this nonsense.”

The girls all pull out bottles of nail polish. Most are PINK, although some are various other garish neon colors.

Francine giggles as the girls take off the polish that she has on her finger and toenails and quickly replace it with a bright metallic-blue.

Francine, in turn pulls me over and inspects my fingernails. She moans and says, “Well, there is NO doubt that you have been living in sin as a boy by the looks of these nails! I can’t wait until Jemma gets ahold of you, girl! We’ll do what we can, for now though. Right, girls?”

They all giggle and I watch in horror as they take turns filing my nails (fingers and toes) and then painting them a really bright bubble-gum PINK!

As they are mutilating my nails, Francine asks me, “So, Paige, I understand that you had a perfect score on the exam—that makes you a pretty special girl for Pink. I only know of one other girl that ever scored a seven-fifty on the exam…”

Georgette nearly screams and says, “You scored a seven-fifty, Paige? Really? No wonder you had a quick entrance into Pink. Most girls only score around five hundred to get in.”

Brenda looks at Francine and says, “And…we all know who the other girl is. Paige, meet your co-perfectionist, Francine…”

I am totally lost. I pretend to know what they are talking about, though, since obviously I am supposed to. I know they are talking about the test that Allen got me the answers for and that causes me to blush in shame.

I shake my head and say, “I don’t really know what the big deal is—it isn’t like you can study for it, right?”

Francine giggles and says, “Silly girl! I know you’re going to be an awesome young lady! And…I LOVE those bubble-gum nails. Now, you girls need to get to bed! Go on!”