SRU -- The Football Hero
By Ellie Dauber
(c) 2001

Here's another of my older stories. It was an experiment in writing in the first person. Let me know what you think.

* * * * *

Jack Weston really wanted his son, Mark, to follow in his footsteps as a high school football star. He wanted it enough to resort to magic. But...

* * * * *

"Mall Security, Sam Crawford speaking."

"Sam, this is Al Dehner at Rite Aide. I've got a crazy man screaming in my story." Al's voice was quivering, a sure sign the man was nervous. In the background, Sam could hear what sounded like someone shouting, though he couldn't make out any words.

"On my way," Sam said.

The Rite Aide was only about six stores away from the corner where the Security Office was located. Sam could hear the shouts before he was halfway there; something about the "wrong store" and some old man.

Sam followed the noise.

A heavyset man in his late forties was standing near a display of lawn furniture, demanding that some old man show up and fix something. The man was angry, and he wasn't using the sort of language that should be used in a public place. He stopped screaming when he saw Al and ran over to the guard. "You work here -- in the mall I mean," the man said. He didn't sound angry, more desperate. "You know where his store is. You can take me there; can't you?"

"I know every store in this mall, sir. I'll take to whatever store you want, but you've got to be quiet. Your shouting -- and your language -- they're disturbing all these nice people."

"O-okay, you're right. I'm sorry. But I've got to see that old man, got to get him to fix what he did." The man grabbed at Sam's uniform.

"It's all right, sir, but please let go of me." The man looked into Sam's eyes and blinked. Then he let go of Sam's uniform. "Now, sir, where's the store that you want to go to?"

The man... giggled. "It's here; the store's right here; right across from the Radio Shack; and next door to the T-Rex T-Shirts store."

"Yes, that's where we are now. Is this the store you wanted? I don't think there's any old man working here." He looked at Crawford who shook his head.

"This is the place, but it isn't the store. There -- there was another store here yesterday."

"Sir, this store has been here since the mall opened. How could there be another store here?"

"He -- he said the store was m-magic. That it was there because I needed it to be there." He giggled again. "He knew my name when I walked in; he knew what I wanted before I -- before I could tell him."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head; another nut that believed in urban legends. "Sir, that old guy, was he wearing some kind of ratty old robe?"

"Yes... yes! You know him; you know the store. Where is it? How do I get there?"

"I'm afraid you can't sir. That store, Spells-R-Us, it doesn't exist. You must have heard about it and had some sort of weird dream or something. Let me call a cab to take you home."

"No! It's true, and it's here, and I'll find it." He picked up a beach chair and through it at a display. "Even if I have to tear this whole mall apart."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, sir. Please calm down."

"Calm down!Er Calm down after what that bastard did to me -- to my son." He threw another chair. This one smashed the glass display case holding some calculators and cameras. "Come out, you old bastard," he shouted to no one in particular. "Come out, or I'll wreck this store."

Sam grabbed the man and quickly applied a wrestling hold. "Call the cops, Al," he yelled to the frightened druggist. "This guy's their baby."

* * * * *

Jack Weston stared at his lawyer through the reinforced glass of the police visitors' room. "I tell you Ned, I'm not crazy."

Ned Montgomery looked at his client -- and his friend of over ten years. "Well, you must be something, Jack. Disturbing the peace, destruction of property, public nuisance, they could put you away for a year or more, easy. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Okay, but, please, let me tell the whole story before you interrupt. Okay?"

"The whole story, I promise."

"You know how much I'm into sports, especially football. I got to go to college on a football scholarship, almost made it into the pros. I met Sherrie because I was the big football hero, and she was the tutor that helped me keep my grades high enough to be allowed to play."

"Any way, after we got married and had Mark -- you promised not to interrupt -- I wanted him to follow in my footsteps, be a jock like his old man. He tried, I'll have to give him that, but it wasn't because he wanted to. He did it just to shut me up. His heart wasn't in it, and he just didn't care enough to be any good. I knew he had the talent -- he was my kid after all. He just didn't give a damn."

"This weekend is the start of training for the fall schedule. Mark should be there, first string, just like I was. When I asked him about it, he said that he hadn't even tried out. He said that he had better things to do. 'Better things,' do you believe that? No -- don't answer; let me finish."

"We had a big fight. I almost slapped him -- you know, try and knock some sense into him, but Sherrie screamed at me. She said she'd leave me if I hit him. I stormed out of the house and drove over to the mall. On the way to the mall, I started to get one of those tension headaches of mine. I went to the Rite Aid to get some aspirin. Only it wasn't there."

"Don't look at me like that. It wasn't. There was a store, a curio shop or something -- like that Pier One Sherrie likes -- with display windows and -- I swear to Heaven -- a real door with one of those old-fashioned bells that jingled when the door opened. I looked around. There was this old guy in a real ratty looking blue robe -- like my Uncle Fred's old bathrobe -- behind the counter."

"I looked at him, and he says, 'Hello, Jack. Welcome to my store.' Then he hands me a line that he's some kind of wizard and can read my mind. I tell him to prove it, and he says, he's here to sell me something for my kid. He says the store's magical, and it came to the mall because I needed it to be there."

"He hands me this little bottle of green liquid -- it looked a little like that Mountain Dew soda. He says pour it in something and give that to Mark to drink. Mark drinks it, and he'll be down on the field with those football players. I give him a look because I know he's crazy. He says it'll only cost me five bucks, and what did I have to lose. I figured what the hell and gave him the money. What did I have to lose? Oh, Lord! What did I have to lose?"

"I bought the stuff and went left the store. I still had my headache, so I stopped at another store and got some aspirin. I bought a soda at the food court to wash them down, and drove home.

Sherrie gives me a look that says I'm really in trouble with her. She said Mark had gone to a friend's house, but he came back about ten minutes later; just after I got home. His friend wasn't home or something. I apologized to them both like I really meant it. I said how much football meant to me, and asked Mark to let me try just one more time to convince him. If his answer was still no, then I wouldn't ask again. He agreed, and I said he should let me give it my best shot. Let me take him over so we can watch the team try-outs."

"He wasn't sure, but I promised we would leave, if he wanted, after I talked to him. I figured that if that stuff was magic, he'd go right down and try out. If not, well, I had my fingers crossed when I promised not to bring the subject up again."

"We head over to the field. The kids are trying out, working hard. A few of them even had some talent. But I thought, 'Wait till Mark gets his mind changed, he'll show them all." There were folks sitting here and there in the stands, family and friends of the kids on the field, I guessed. Over away from the players, the cheerleaders were practicing. A couple of them were pretty cute, too, for jail bait."

"The school boosters were selling refreshments. I bought a couple sodas, orange for me and a coke for Mark; easier to tell them apart that way. While he was talking to some kid, I poured that stuff in his coke. We climbed up into the stands and took a couple of seats right there on the 50. I handed Mark his coke and started talking about what a wonderful game football was. You know, he was hardly listening to me. He was too busy looking at those cheerleaders -- not that I blamed him."

"Then he took a swig of the coke. I began to tell him the story of that pass I caught that won us the district title my senior year in high school, but I stopped. He -- just about everybody -- seemed to have frozen. I looked around. There was even a ball or two hanging in mid air. The damn stuff wasmagic."

"Then Mark begins to change, only not the way I expected. I figured he was going to bulk up, get some muscles, maybe even grow a couple of inches. Instead, he starts to shrink. He gets thinner, more delicate looking. His hair starts to grow, comes down over his ears, doesn't stop until it's down past his shoulders.

His nose gets smaller and his lips get a little bigger. His eyebrows got thin, like narrow lines. Then I could see it -- somehow -- he had on lipstick, and there was something on his eyes. I could even smell some perfume in him. I looked down at his clothes. His T-shirt had these bumps growing under it. 'No,' I thought, but, yeah, my son was growing tits -- nice looking pair, too, big like his mother's."

"What little hair he had on his arms just kind of faded away; so did the few hairs he had on his face. He seemed to be getting a figure, slim waist, broader hips. I wondered how his clothes still fit. Then, they start changing, too. His T-shirt turns into some kind of pink blouse. It was kind of sheer, and I could actually see the lines of the... the bra he was wearing all of a sudden. His jeans changed, too. They just kind of grew up his legs and turned into a pair of white shorts -- with no damn bulge in them where a guy's family jewels should be. He had on pink socks and girls sneakers, too."

"Then, all of a sudden, everything started moving again. Mark looks at me like everything's normal. I started to say something, but before I could, one of the cheerleaders, a cute little redhead, comes over to near where we're sitting. 'Hey, Marci,' she says. 'You better come down if you're going to try out for the squad.' I didn't know what to say."

"Then Mark... my Mark leans over and kisses me on the cheek. 'Wish me luck, Daddy,' he says, and he runs down onto the field. He and the redhead go over and talk to a woman, the girls' coach, I guessed, and he starts jumping around the field, doing somersaults and stuff. The coach asks him a few questions and hands him a couple of sheets of paper. He comes running up into the stands and hands it to me. 'I made it, Daddy. I'm gonna be a cheerleader.' The papers are a medical form and a permission slip. He runs back onto the field, and I sat and stared."

"What the hell happed? Then I remembered what that old coot had said: 'Mark would be on the field with the football players.' The potion worked all right. Where else would cheerleaders be except on the field. I knew I had to get back to the mall, get him to take back the magic. I ran for my car and drove here -- I don't want to say how fast -- but the store was... gone. The Rite Aid was back where it always was. I figured the two stores had to be in it together, so I started wrecking the place to get them to call the old guy. The rest... well, the rest you know."

"And you believe that?" Ned asked.

"Of course, I do. It's the truth."

Ned stood up and walked over to the door. "Did you hear all that?" he asked someone in the hall outside.

Sherrie walked into the Visitors' Room followed by a pretty young girl in a new cheerleader's uniform. It was obvious from their features and long brown hair that they were mother and daughter. They both looked like they had been crying. "Jack," Sherrie said leaning towards the glass separating her and her husband. "What have you done to yourself. We don't have a son; you know that."

The girl joined her. "Daddy, I-I'm sorry that you don't love me. I'm a girl. I've always been a girl. Just ask anyone. I love you, but I -- I can't be the son you want me to be." She sat down in the chair and began to cry.

A young man in a brown suit, a policeman's badge hanging out of his jacket pocket, walked in. "Mrs. Weston, Mr. Montgomery, after what I just heard, I think a judge will drop the charges if you agree that Mr. Weston will go someplace for a nice long rest."

Sherrie Weston nodded. "Yes, I-I think he needs one, and it will be better than putting him in jail for something he-he wasn't responsible for doing because he wasn't in his right mind."

"Fine," the officer said. "If you'll come with me, we'll see about his transfer to Connorstown Hospital, they have a very good psych unit." Sherrie and her lawyer started out, but Marci stayed where she sat. "Are you coming, Ms. Weston?"

"No, I-I'd like to talk to Daddy for a minute if I could, please." When the officer nodded, Marci added, "and could you turn off the microphone. I-I really don't want everybody to hear."

Marci waited a bit; then she leaned forward. "Testing... one... two... three. Okay, I'm pretty sure it's off. Are you satisfied now, Dad?"

"What... what do you mean?"

"You tried to trick me, to use magic to make me into some stupid football jock. Instead, you got a pretty little cheerleader."

"What, but how did you know?"

"Mom asked me to follow you. She was afraid you might go get drunk or something. I saw you go into that store, and I saw how happy you looked when you came out, so I got suspicious."

"The wizard told me exactly what the potion he sold you would do. It would change reality so everybody but you -- even me -- would think I'd been born a girl. But it would only last 24 hours. He figured that was enough time to teach you a lesson."

"I figured that you'd never really learn your lesson. All my life you've been trying to make me into a man just like you. I figure that if being a man means that you're willing to use magic to make your son's life into something that he never wanted; then I didn't want to be one. I paid him a hundred bucks to make the spell permanent but fix it so I'd know who I was, too."

"You can't -- you can't possibly be serious."

"I'm serious, Dad. Thanks to that magic, everybody -- even Mom -- thinks I was born a girl. And the magic gives me all the memories of that life, so I won't make any mistakes."

"But a girl?"

"Yes, a girl, with periods and a boyfriend -- a cute one, too -- and everything. I'm free of you, Dad, free of your trying to control my life. You'll be away for a long, long time, and the only way you can get people to stop thinking that you're crazy is to admit that I'm a girl. And there's one more thing I want you to always remember."

Jack sank back into a chair, feeling defeat, feeling the headache of all headaches growing behind his eyes. "What... what's that... Marci?"

"I love you, Daddy." She said in a voice like a little girl's. Then she blew him a kiss and turned and walked out of the room, hips swaying in her pretty new cheerleader's skirt.

The End