Time to clean out the closets...

The four of us worked the rest of the evening, moving things from Hannah's room to mine and from mine to storage. Not just dresses but makeup, jewelry, and even intimate items. Hannah had two packages of panties she had never opened, and now she was too big for them—plus Mom, having planned this had bought stuff.

Including bras.

"I don't need a bra!" I protested, sure that my face was red enough for a stoplight.

"So your clothes will fit right," Mom said. "All the girls your age are wearing bras."

Hannah put in, "And some of them will be padding them as much as you will." She snickered.

I didn't have a chance; they ganged up on me. At least I didn't have to put one on right away; the bras went into one of my dresser drawers. Three of them, all size 28A. They had to explain bra sizes to me. The number is how big around you are, and the letter is the cup size. "You're tiny," Hannah noted. "I was wearing this size when I was twelve."

"Well, these are new, so they probably don't have your cooties," I said. Girl cooties, sure, but not my sister's. They were just plain white training bras, but really, I was trying not to be terrified. What would it feel like to wear a bra? Mom showed me the little pads, like tiny pillows, that would fill out the cups, and I thought I might faint.

I didn't have time, though. There was so much to move. Dad kept taking my old boy stuff out to the storage shed behind the garage, an area I stayed away from after dark because of the local wildlife I didn't want to think about.

Mom, Hannah and I kept busy. Shoes. Purses. Billfolds. Jewelry box. Girls had so much stuff! And my sister was a packrat that had kept everything. She even gave me a stuffed pink panda that she said had never gotten along well with her other plush animals. "She's a prima donna," Hannah had explained. "Like you."

I stuck my tongue out at her, and she laughed. "You're weird," I said. "And I don't need a two-foot-tall pink bear." Pink! Ahh!

"Aw," she hugged the bear. "Samantha doesn't love you. And Roary the Lion says he's going to eat you if he finds you on the bed again. I guess you'll have to go live out in the storage shed with those scary possums."

I gasped. Not fair. Hannah knows I am terrified of possums. They're why I won't go into the backyard after dark. "Give me the bear," I conceded. Hannah handed her over, all soft and silky, unlike my Pookie bear whose fur had mostly worn off long ago. "What's her name?" I asked, holding the plushie so I could look at her face. She had big eyes with pink rings around them and lavender-pink nose and ears. Way too cute.


"She likes to be held like that, like a baby. Her name is Sugarpie," said Hannah. "But you can rename her."

I winced. "You are so weird, sis," I said. I couldn't think of a better name than Sugarpie—it seemed perfect for the adorable bear.

Hannah giggled, nodding, tapping her nose and pointing at me. I hugged the pink panda and stuck my tongue out at my sister again. If I'm going to get treated like a girl, I'm going to take advantage of the license to be a brat. My sister had been getting away with it for years.

Mom came in about that time with another pair of shoe boxes. I had gone from owning four pairs of shoes to owning twelve. This would make fourteen, no fifteen, one box had two pairs in it. And these were just shoes my size—well, my size in women's sizes—that Hannah had had in the back of her closet. Mom opened the boxes to show me—high heels.

"No! F-f-f-!" I yelped.

"You'll need to get some practice with them, Samantha," Mom said, nodding as if she agreed with me. "Now," she said, "it's after ten and tomorrow is a school day for Hannah, so time for bed."

Hannah nodded, grabbed me in a hug and kissed me on the forehead. "G'night, sis," she said. "Don't let the possums nibble on your toes."

"Mom!" I screamed. Okay, I screamed, I was wound pretty tight. I also almost hugged the stuffing out of Sugarpie. Once when I was about four...but never mind, I didn't want to think about that. I couldn't help it; possums are just gross.

Mom was so startled by my scream, she sort of ran backwards into Dad, who was coming in the door to see what the heck was going on. They all started to laugh at me until they saw I was crying.

Daddy said, "Hannah, that was mean," looking at her, all fierce. He put an arm around me, and I didn't try to get away. I'm as brave as the next guy, but possums made me want my daddy. "You shouldn't scare your sister like that," he accused.

Hannah hung her head and agreed. "Yeah, I guess it was. I didn't mean to really scare her. It was supposed to be just teasing." She looked up at me, "I'm sorry, Sam," she said.

"Samantha," Mom corrected her. She moved close to me on the other side.

"I'm sorry, Samantha," said Hannah, then gave me a hug, which turned into all four of us hugging.

"Samantha," Dad asked. "Do you forgive Hannah?" He bent his head close so he could look me in the eye.

I was all embarrassed by then, more than I was before, which seemed incredible. "Yeah, I guess. She was just being her usual stupid self." Another hug and Daddy kissed me on the forehead.

He took Hannah across the hall to her room. "We're going to have a talk," he promised, and I could almost hear her swallow because that meant a lecture. Poor Hannah, but I didn't quite feel sorry for her because my heart was still pounding and my toes wanted to curl up and hide.

Possums. Eww!