Chapter 8

We were quiet for a while. I'm not sure what Bee was thinking, but I was trying to work out how I could help her without giving away my ability. If I was to change her like I was itching to, I would be found out easily. However, I was thinking that I could do some subtle changes to her face to feminise it, stop the hair from growing there, smooth out her Adam's apple, and any internal changes wouldn't be visible and none of it would be blamed on me. I thought I could even get away with changing her pelvis and hips. Bee would notice it as her clothes wouldn't fit her the same, but I couldn't see her thinking that I had anything to do with it.

It would only be possible if I was staying with her for a month and I didn't know if that was going to happen. I knew she had promised me that she wouldn't hand me to the authorities, but she could get in trouble if she didn't tell someone. I was pretty confident that no one would consider that I could be the missing David, so even if child services of one kind or another was to take me in, I wouldn't end up back with the FBI or mafia. I would probably end up in an orphanage or foster home, but that was doable.

I was going to stick to my story that my parents had sold me to some bad men because it was true and would give me a reason to not want to tell anyone my surname or explain where I had come from or how I could have ended up near that service station. I expected them to presume that I had hitched a lift or run from a car that had stopped there to refuel.

We parked in a shopping centre and Bee led me inside holding my hand again. I'm not sure if I put my hand out or she did, but it just seemed to happen naturally. It felt right though, and I needed the reassurance with all the strange people around me. We stopped at the first cafe that we came to. I had a ham and cheese sandwich with a hot chocolate and Bee had soup. Since my mouth was mostly full, Bee did most of the chatting and told me about her life. She was in the movie business although Bee described her job as a gofer. She then had to explain what a gofer was. Go for this, go for that. I thought she was kidding and just giggled at her. That was an interesting experience, I giggled. I can't remember the last time I giggled if I ever did. It felt good though. The producer of her current movie was quite religious and no work was done on a Sunday, which gave her the time to relax. Her job was pretty full-on when she was working on a movie so she was going to see if I could join her tomorrow, but I needed to be a good girl. Stay where I was put and not get into any trouble.

I told her I would be a good girl. It came out naturally, almost without thought and the feeling that I liked being a good girl. It was also a bit jarring. I had never thought those words before or any feeling associated with it. I tried to think back to when I lived with my family and see if I could ever remember being called a good boy, but I couldn't. Most of the language towards me was derogatory. Only my mother said nice things or at least I think she did. I couldn't remember any.

Buying the booster seat was a bit embarrassing. Bee asked for some help so that she bought the right one. They measured me and suggested one which was almost a baby seat. It had a five-point harness and I couldn't release it myself very easily. I saw Bee wince at the price, but she didn't hesitate and chose the one suggested.

When we started shopping for clothes I slipped the five hundred dollars I had in my jacket into her handbag. She saw me do it and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“I stole it off some bad guys. I'm eight, I don't know what to do with it,” I answered with a shrug.

I think I won that battle. Judging by her car and clothes, I didn't think Bee earns that much money and taking me on, even if it was only temporary was costing her.

Shopping for clothes was an interesting experience. I couldn't remember shopping for my own clothes before. I mostly had hand me downs from my elder brothers or my mother bought me what I needed. In New York, I was given a uniform to wear that was supposed to make me look like a junior doctor. I felt overwhelmed almost as soon as we entered the store and spent the first 15 minutes hiding behind Bee. Bee was great though, she would hold different things up against me and ask me what I thought. Girls have so much more variety than boys. Due to my size, my options were a little limited, but still, far more than I was used to. I tried on various items that helped Bee work out my sizes, but I didn't have to try everything. We weren't trying to create a whole wardrobe, just a little sample of lots of different styles. There were a few items that worried me more than others. A few 'cute' skirts and two dresses really banged home the different world that I had now found myself in. I knew I couldn't really object and although I felt nervous about wearing them, I realised I needed to overcome my reluctance. Eight-year-old girls normally wore such things, so I was going to have to suck it up. The one item that embarrassed me the most was these training bras. I had no development and at eight years old, none was expected, but Bee insisted that I would need them, and should get used to wearing them.

By the time we returned to the car I was exhausted. Bee then had to fit the car seat and I found myself securely strapped in. Within minutes I just couldn't keep my eyes open and I dropped off to sleep. I woke up with Bee talking. It took me a few seconds to realise that she was using a blue tooth device to connect her mobile to the car stereo, so she was talking to someone else.

She was discussing my case, so I closed my eyes and pretended that I was still asleep. Because it was on a speaker system I could hear both sides of the conversation. Bee was explaining why she couldn't just hand me over to child services and her friend, who sounded like a lawyer, initially tried to convince Bee to change her mind and when he realised that Bee wasn't to be swayed agreed to see what he could do. She then phoned someone to get permission to bring me on site tomorrow. She made all sorts of promises about me being good and no bother to eventually get reluctant acceptance.

I stopped pretending to be asleep and started looking around. Her lawyer friend phoned back and told her to send a picture of me to his phone and he would pass it on. I think Bee noticed I was awake at that point.

“I am not going to hand you in. We made a pinky promise and I always keep my pinky promises. We may have to prove that it would be dangerous for you to go back to your family so I have a friend who is going to do a little investigation for us. It would speed things up if you would tell me your full name and who they are.”

I didn't say anything.

“OK then. Is it alright if I take your picture so that we can see if you are on the missing person's list?”

“Yes. How do you get on the missing person's list?” I asked.

“If someone disappeared then those who love them report that to the police hoping that they can be found.”

“I didn't disappear. I was sold,” I stated firmly. Then, completely outside of my control, my lip started quivering as I tried to say what I was thinking. “No one loved me.” I managed to get out. And I started crying again.

Bee tried to comfort me, but that is pretty hard to do from the front seat while driving. I didn't cry for too long.

“I'm sorry for upsetting you, Rose.”

“That's OK, Bee. You just want to help, I know that. You are not like the bad men. It just makes me sad.”

Bee started talking about the film that she was involved with. It involved a twelve-year-old actress who was playing a nine-year-old girl. It was a remake of an old film called 'Firestarter'. Bee suggested that I stayed away from the actress as she hadn't been behaving very well. There was a bit of a personality conflict between the child star and the director, mainly because the director wasn't happy with something about her acting and she wasn't good at accepting criticism.