"All of your life, even when you were a child, I've heard people say how brave and clever you are. Well! I've never believed it, and I don't believe it now! I've never seen any proof! All I see is a spoiled little, vain little, empty-headed girl. Still, now's the test! Now we'll see whether I am right or you are wrong."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Nina asked.

"If I was that princess," I said, "I would go to Grognon and see what she wanted."

Nina was appalled. "She'd want to kill you, that's what she'd want!"

"Maybe," I replied.

"Oh, Marcie!" Nina said. "You would do that, and you'd think it was brave, but it wouldn't be!"

"No?"

"No, it would be stupid!"

I smiled at Nina and said, "Well, let's see what Princess Marcelline will do."

Nina gave me a look of concern. "She's going to do something brave and dumb, just like you would do."

My shoulders slumped. "So you *do* know this story!"

She hedged and squirmed in an I-don't-know-maybe way, saying, "I don't remember everything..."

"Okay," I said. "Let's go on." *I* wanted to find out what the Princess was going to do.

The moment Marcelline entered Grognon's chamber, the door was shut and four of Grognon's women threw themselves upon her. As quickly as it takes to say it, they had the poor Princess trussed up, good and tight: she was bound and gagged, unable to move or to cry out.

"Now, Princess," Grognon sneered from her bed, "All of your life, even when you were a child, I've heard people say how brave and clever you are. Well! I've never believed it, and I don't believe it now! I've never seen any proof! All I see is a spoiled little, vain little, empty-headed girl. Still, now's the test! Now we'll see whether I am right or you are wrong."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Nina asked.

"Yes it is," I agreed.

"Come, my friend," Grognon called, "I have need of thee," and soon there appeared a fairy, who looked upon Grognon's wounds and wept with compassion.

"Who has done this to you?" the fairy demanded. "Tell me, and I shall turn them into a toad or a pig, or any loathsome thing you like!"

"No," Grognon protested, with great insincerity. "That would be harsh and unforgiving. I have an idea that is much more suitable and noble."

The fairy paused, and looked behind her, only to see Marcelline pleading with her eyes.

"Who is this girl?" the fairy asked. "And why is she—"

"She is the author of my misery," Grognon told her. "My greatest enemy. Consumed by her jealousy of me, she bewitches men with her supposed beauty, and drives them to do me harm."

The fairy's eyes flashed fire, and poor Marcelline feared that the next moment would be her last.

"I've thought of a fitting punishment," Grognon went on. "Nothing that will harm her. On the contrary, it might help her learn the error of her ways."

"What a great heart you have!" the deceived fairy cried.

"Strip her of her riches, of her title, of her name, and most of all, strip her of her feminine wiles. Let her be a peasant boy, who must labor for his bread."

The fairy was delighted at the apparent justice of Grognon's request.

"Simple work shall teach her honesty," Grognon explained, "and a humble station will teach her humility."

"I shall do as you ask, my good friend," the fairy replied, "and I shall do more: I shall carry the girl so far from here that she will never find her way back."

"Thank you, my friend," the hypocritcal Grognon said. "And now, you must excuse me... my strength is failing, and I must rest."

"I shall take this miscreant away at once," the fairy told her. "And carry out your noble request."

"Thank you," Grognon said. "There remains only one thing to tell: A word of caution. Do not listen to a word she says. The girl is full of lies, and is an artful deceiver."

The fairy laughed. "Never fear!" she replied, and with a wave of her wand, she and Marcelline were gone.

In the next instant, Marcelline found herself in the middle of a great forest. The cloths that stopped her mouth and bound her hands and feet where gone. The fairy stood before her.

Marcelline tried to speak, to protest her treatment and to tell the fairy the truth of what happened between herself and Grognon. But when she opened her pretty mouth, no sound came out.

The fairy spoke to her. "I have placed a charm upon you so that you cannot speak in my presence. You are fortunate that the Duchess Grognon is so merciful and kind, for I am not. I would gladly lay the worst of punishments upon you. Instead, you have been given the chance to redeem yourself. I hope you will use your new life wisely, though I doubt you will."

With a wave of the fairy's wand, Marcelline's tresses fell away, along with her soft and lovely clothes. In their place came boots, pants, shirt, coat, and hat — all rough, coarse, sturdy stuff. In place of the bright colors she was used to wearing, her new clothes were dull brown and faded white. They were old and worn, but they were clean.

They were the clothes of a man.

The fairy held up a small mirror so Marcelline could see herself. In the reflection Marcelline beheld a handsome young man, dressed as a laborer. When her face showed astonishment and dismay, so did the young man's face.

"I could have made you ugly," the fairy said, "but for a vain thing like yourself that might have been too much to bear. Farewell!"

And with that, the fairy vanished, leaving behind the hand-mirror and a much-distraught young man.

I paused, and sat there thinking. Nina waited, then said, "Hey, the story doesn't end there. Why aren't you reading?"

"I was thinking," I said.

"Are you thinking what the princess will do next?"

"No, I was thinking what *I* was going to do next," I replied. "I need to talk to Cassie."

"Hmmph. Maybe you should stick the book into the back of your pants, in case she swats you."

"I don't think she will," I said, smiling.

"You never do," Nina laughed.

"Hmmph," I said. "Listen, I'll be back soon. Okay?"
 

I walked up the stairs slowly. Something was coming together in my mind: a realization was forming, but it wasn't quite clear yet. Back when I was Marcie Donner, I was interested in girly things: I read Cosmo, I made friends with Ida so I could learn about clothes and shoes and makeup. My bedroom was a teenage girl's dream, with its cool colors and furniture, and I always tried to make the best choice of what to wear.

Now, as Marcie Auburn, I seemed to be very different: my room had no color. It was very spartan, and at the same time it was a mess. As far as I could tell, I wore the same clothes, over and over, until they fell apart or someone else threw them away. I didn't wear makeup, and I played sports.

It didn't make sense.

I went to the door of Cassie's room, which was open, and knocked. Her room was a stark contrast to mine: the walls were a very light color somewhere between lavender and blue, and the furniture was light, natural wood. It was elegant; it was together; it worked. I knew that she'd done it all herself, made all the choices, and that the room perfectly reflected who she was: a intelligent, organized, young woman with taste. Cassie didn't look up. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking intently at a list that she held in her hand.

For some reason I found myself saying, "Dilly-dilly."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Of all the things to remember, you have to remember that?"

I shrugged. "What does it mean?"

She gestured toward the walls. "The color is Lavender Blue. You know the song?"

"Oh, oh, I get it now." I laughed. Mom used to sing it to us when we were small.

"That would be a good thing to forget," she told me. "So what's up?"

"Can you help me with something?" I asked.

She hesitated. "It depends on what it is. I'm sorry, but I don't have a lot of time to tell you the stuff you don't remember. Trust me, it will all come back to you."

"No, it isn't that...," I said.

Cassie looked at me. She was obviously biting her tongue, trying to be patient. She knew I had a problem, but she was busy with something of her own.

"I don't dress very well do I?"

"No," was her curt reply.

"I wear the same junk over and over?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I want to change. I want to dress better. Will you help me pick my clothes for a while? Until I get it?"

She didn't answer right away. Her eyes moved around as she thought. At last she said, "I don't know. Maybe. I can't help you now, though, because I have to get ready for my trip."

"What trip?"

She looked irritated at my not knowing, then said, "I got accepted to Princeton, and I'm going to New Jersey tomorrow for a visit," she said. "I'm going to be there over New Years, and part of next week."

"Oh, yeah," I said, remembering. "Jerry told me. Congratulations."

She stiffened. "You need to remember to not say things like that."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Cassie scratched her nose. "Listen: After Mom is done with your room, why don't you ask your friend Eden to come over? She knows how to dress, and she'd probably love to help you go through your things and shop with you. Plus, she'd be more patient than I ever would."

"And she won't smack my ass," I interjected.

Cassie laughed. "Yeah, that too. Anyway, one word of advice: DON'T ask Mom for help. She'll have you dressing like Nina, and everyone will laugh at you."

"Okay, thanks," I said.

She smiled. "I won't be here much longer. Around September, I'll go away to college, and then you'll be the big sister here at home. In the meantime, I'll try not to pick on you any more. I've got to grow up, and I want you to have some good memories of me before I go."

I smiled back at her. "But I do have good memories of you, already."

She laughed. "Wait until you start remembering," she said. "I think I'll sleep with my door locked until I'm sure you've calmed down."

I frowned. "Okay," I said. "I don't think it will be that way, though."

She chuckled and stood up, stretching her arms. "You used to be an only child," she said. "Only-childs are weak." As she talked, I was aware that she was getting into position to give me a swat, so I backed into the hallway. "See?" she said. "You're learning. Come here and give me a hug." She held her arms open, and I was torn between suspicion and wanting a hug.

Suspicion won out. "No, thanks," I told her. "I'm good."

"Smart girl," she commented. "Now go. I gotta pack."
 

I went to my own bedroom door, which was shut. I could hear Mom still working in there, and some half-remembered sense warned me it was better to stay away until she was done.

After using the bathroom in the master bedroom (my parents' room, I told myself, trying to get used to saying the words), I noticed that it was only three in the afternoon. It surprised me, because it seemed like an incredibly long day so far!

I went back downstairs, expecting to get back to Princess Marcelline, but on the way down I heard the theme song to Hannah Montana. I realized I'd have to wait to find out about the Princess, and decided that it was a good time to call Eden.

I didn't feel entirely ready for the call, since there was so much I didn't yet remember. Still, I reflected, unless Eden had drastically changed, it wouldn't be a problem.

Things were starting to come back to me, but I wasn't really remembering them. For instance, I wanted the phone, and found myself walking into the kitchen, turning right, and picking it off the wall. Just as I'd done countless times before in my life. And Eden's number, well, I knew that anyway, but my finger punched it out just like it does every day.

Eden's mother answered, which surprised me, because I thought she'd still be at work. (See? I remembered that, too!) So, when Eden got on the line, I asked why her mother was home.

"She took the week off," she said. "I told you."

Well, I guess I don't remember everything.

"So, hey: guess what?" I asked her.

"Um, let's see... your mother is painting your bedroom?"

"How did you know?"

"Your mother was SO excited that you finally let her do it, that she called my mother." She giggled. "So you decided that pink is your color?"

I sighed. "She *says* it's not pink. It's Peach Puff."

"And that kind of looks like... something like... pink, right?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Face it, Marcie," Eden said. "I have bad news for you: You might be turning into a girly girl."

A girly girl? There it was again. "Actually, Eden, that's the reason I'm calling. Do you think you could help me with my clothes?"

"Help you? With clothes?" she repeated as it registered. Then she shrieked, "Are you kidding!? I'd LOVE to! Do you mean, like go through your stuff... and—" here she sounded cautious "—and, like, throw some things away..."

"Yes," I said. "We have to throw away all the old, crappy stuff, and figure out what works and what I need."

"Oh, my God!" Eden said. "What happened to you!? Are you sure I'm talking to Marcie Auburn? The girl who wears the same old clothes every day?"

"I don't wear the same thing every day!" I protested. "And they're not old, they're just comfortable..." I trailed off. Obviously this was a well-worn track in my brain. One that I had to let go of. "Yes, Eden, I have to reform. I realized that I live like a... like a..."

"Like a BOY," Eden said. "You live like a boy! You know you do! You have a messy room, you don't care about your clothes..."

"Okay, okay," I said. "Don't push it. I want to change, and I want your help. But don't lecture me, okay?"

"Alright," she agreed. "So when can we start?"

I looked up at the ceiling, as if I could see my mother singing to herself as she ran the paint roller.

The pink paint roller.

"As soon as the paint dries," I said.

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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