Chapters 4-6 of 9

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Monica Rose
Special thanks to Barbie Lee and Amanda Lynn.

 

 

 

4. Girl me. McCroy and shopping for a girl. Uniform. Cleo suspects something.

So, it looks like I'm a girl. That’s what all the certificates I had said. I was a girl. I was born a boy, but the certificates said otherwise. It was Minde’s and Stan’s fault. Mostly Minde’s fault but Stan took responsibility.

Stan found a doctor in the religious city. I thought it was a monastery at first, but later it appeared to be a city name. He, the Doc, made me look all-girl where the natural certificate of my manliness dangled. He said it’s reversible. My thingy was tucked down and back. The same way I usually did it before but it was arranged surgically this time.

I talked by phone with my mom. Well, I don’t have or rather I don’t know my biological mother, so my mom was Minde’s mom. Formally, she was my granny but I’d called her mom all my life. I talked with her by phone and she made me promise to try to be the best girl possible. She told me that it was my fault too. Because I didn’t double-check the papers Stan had sent us with our data.

I was away a day and a night and, when I returned, things started to snowball.

When Stan brought me home, Minde was waiting for me and he wasn’t alone. Cleo was with him.

“School is starting shortly,” Cleo said, “and you definitely need some new things.”

“What things?” I wondered.

“Your dad showed me your closet…” she started.

“DAD!? You mean Minde,” I corrected her.

“As you wish. But Minde is your father, right?”

“Yeah… And…?”

“And, as your father, he has a right to show me your room and closet,” Cleo retorted.

“So…?”

“What?”

“What what? You wanted to say something, not I,” I said.

“Huh? Sorry…” after a pause, she added, “you need underwear, clothes, shoes, learning tools, and much more like…”

She made a pause and I wasn’t sure she had mentioned that ‘much more’ for emphasis or she was about to add something to her list of things I needed.

“… like the uniform,” Cleo completed the sentence at last.

“Don’t I need to get instructions from the school first?” I asked.

“I picked up everything for you,” she said proudly.

“Well… thank you, I guess. But I can do it all by myself,” I wasn’t happy that she was kind of overprotective. As if I was a little kid or a damsel in distress. Well, I might be a damsel now, but no way was I in distress.

“You’re welcome,” Cleo replied. Just like I didn’t complain about her treating me like a child.

“Don’t want to ask your friend to come with us?” she asked.

“Come where?” I didn’t plan to go anywhere. I thought we were about to make a detailed list of what I needed and then I'd get everything.

“To the mall. Go ask your friend. We can take my car.”

She was annoying. I had no choice but to pay a visit to Melanie and Sandra.

“Do you remember McCroy?” I asked Sandra’s mom.

“Yes, I remember. Didn't he come to your home with Minde and Stan? Wasn't it the same day you girls had a slumber party here?” Melanie asked. “Why didn’t I see you afterward? Were Minde, Stan, and this Mr. McCroy happy with the meal prepared for them?”

“Thank you, it all went well,” I replied. “They complimented me on the dinner. But McCroy is a she and she is kind of Minde’s friend, I guess… And she is taking me to the mall to get things for school and like… she asked me if you and Sandra might want to go with us?…”

Sandra didn’t let me finish, “Let’s go, let’s go. Please, mommy, please?…”

What was with that girl and the mall?

“What does Ms. McCroy drive?” asked Melanie.

“A microbus Voyager,” I said.

“You mean a mini-van?” Melanie asked.

“Maybe… In our country, it’s called a microbus.”

 

 

The mall – a place with many stores. That’s where Sandra and her friends spent their time. I expected that there would be some privacy but… Cleo was here and she was annoying. She selected things that I would never buy, ever.

Like underwear with lace. You could see through it! On top of this, Cleo wanted my underwear to be brightly colored. It was so shockingly impractical. See-through and visible under light clothes! I could only manage to ask one question, “WHY?”

“There are moments when every girl needs something special,” Cleo explained.

“Well, I don’t.”

“You can’t be sure. Those moments will come up unexpectedly.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“But even if there is no occasion, there are times a girl just wants to feel, feminine…”

“Not me.”

So we ended with plain white, black, and nude-colored briefs. Cleo said they’re called panties. I’ll have to write down that word when I get home.

Next in the line were bras.

“You need to wear one at school according to this book,” Cleo said. Not waiting for me to answer, she showed me the “Student Code of Conduct: Rules and Regulations”.

We ended with an elderly lady, almost mom’s age, measuring my chest. The first bra is probably a kind of initiation, so Cleo, Sandra, and her mom gathered at the dressing room awaiting the saleslady’s verdict.

The result was predictable – I had no breasts. My chest was flat. All of them including the saleslady were very disappointed. I wasn’t. But I needed the bra anyway and the saleslady offered me a padded one. I got many bras for any occasion in all the popular colors and they were all padded.

The next item was pantyhose.

“It’s too hot…” I tried to complain, but…

“There are times when you simply can’t go bare-legged,” Cleo explained.

I didn’t inquire as to what those times were, but, It didn’t matter. They bought what they thought was essential for a girl.

‘Essential’ wasn’t one or two things. I got new shorts that barely covered my underwear and jeans with embroidery on the back pockets. I got two skirts. I didn’t know why I needed them but after Sandra approved, Cleo bought them. Later, I got some shirts, only they called them blouses. Then some ballet flats and running shoes.

“We need to get you the uniform,” Cleo said, “the rest will have to wait until the next time.”

“What REST?” I had already everything that anyone could wear for a year or two. What was this ‘rest’ thing?

“The rest are all things for when it gets cold out…”

“How cold?”

“Very cold,” Cleo didn’t go into details. I’ll look it up when we get home. I thought it was always warm because the sun was setting very fast like in the South. Like in Crimea. At home, there were two hours of twilight before sunset, and then two hours after and then full darkness. Here in America, the light before the night fell was as if someone flipped a switch! It couldn’t be as cold as it was in Lithuania?

“Maybe it can wait?” I offered.

“It won’t be long before it starts to get chilly,” Cleo said, “the weather starts to get cold as early as September.”

“So all I need now is only the uniform?” I asked.

“Only…” Cleo confirmed with a chuckle.

We had to go to a special store. They measured me in all sorts of ways.

“What does my uniform look like?” I wondered after another lady took all of my measurements.

“What grade?” she asked. I noticed her nametag said ‘Nancy’.

“Nine,” Cleo replied.

“Wait! What? Why nine. I was told by the embassy that I would be going into tenth!” I argued.

“Principal decided that ninth grade would be better for you to adapt. So we decided…”

“Wait! Who are ‘we’? And what is this ‘principal’ thing?”

“The Principal runs the school,” Cleo explained.

“Kind of a director then?” I offered.

“Not exactly but you should call him the principal.”

“So who are ‘we’?” I insisted.

“Your father and I.…”

“What’s next? Is he going to find me a husband?

“Are you finished?” Nancy, the lady who had measured me asked. Cleo and I turned to face her.

“So grade nine then?” she asked and Cleo nodded.

“Grades six through eight wear pleated skirts. Starting with grade nine the skirt is A-line,” Nancy explained.

For me, it was another whole new bird language – what’s that A-line? Is it shaped like an A? So why not just call it a truncated cone?

“A-line is better I guess,” Cleo offered.

“You’re right,” Nancy said. “The problem is in your girl’s size we have only pleated skirts. It’s the same with the blouse and the swimming suit. We’ll have them in two weeks. At least you won’t have to wait till the last day.”

“Swimming suit?” I wondered.

“Yes,” Nancy confirmed. “They are one-piece navy for older girls while for the younger ones, they are blue with pink trim.”

“Why do I need one for school.”

“You’ll have two of them. And they are for swimming,” Nancy said with a chuckle like it was a joke. “What style do you swim in?”

“An ax style,” I replied.

“Huh?”

“I don’t swim, I sink like a rock,” I said.

“Do you do any sports?” Cleo asked.

“Sure. Gymnastics.”

“Gymnastics like on the beam?” Sandra asked.

“Well, no, the beam is for…” I stopped before I said ‘for girls'. Because exercises on the beam are only for girls in the competition. For boys, they only use the beam to train for balance, but never in competition. “… the beam is for advanced gymnasts. I’m not that good.”

“Then you will need a leotard also,” Cleo announced.

I didn’t know what this leo-something thingy was so I didn’t complain or argue.

“Are we finished yet?” I asked instead.

 

 

We were not finished. After the school uniform was ordered we spent another two hours looking for and buying things like paint for the face and nails. And then, of course, plastic and metal decorations for hands, fingers, neck, and hair.

Sandra, her mom, Melanie, and Cleo were all excited about all those purchases. I wasn’t. For me, it was the greatest waste of time and money. I didn’t plan to wear anything that we had bought. I couldn’t find any use for these things. Before I had everything I needed and I was comfortable.

At home, Cleo helped me put everything into its proper place into the closet and drawers. Then she wanted me to change into something we had bought but I refused.

Minde and Stan were still at work. I didn’t know if Minde would come home with Stan and at what time. I needed to get started on dinner now. I had German fresh pork sausages in the freezer and they bake well in the oven. I needed some veggies to go with the meal, but Cleo was still here.

“I need to start dinner and then clean the house,” I hinted at her. I expected she’ll leave me alone. The hint didn’t work.

“So, what do you want to do for dinner?” she asked instead.

“I’m going to do bratwurst with mashed potatoes on the side and some salad. While everything is cooking, I'm going to clean and dust.”

“How about if I take care of the potatoes and then I’ll help you with your cleaning, ok?” Cleo offered.

 

 

We finished everything I had planned to do. Minde came home with Stan and we had dinner. After dinner, I again felt like I did the other day as I felt like a fifth wheel. I excused myself and went to my room.

I went through my new things to know where everything was. I had calmed down enough by now. I could see the clothes were made for a girl and I was a girl now. I will wear most of them when… when I need to, even though I didn’t want to. Except for my new jeans, everything showed too much skin for my liking. Maybe I had to start wearing them at home to get used to them.

I changed into a denim skirt and a tee. The skirt was short and the shirt was skin-tight. After I changed, I sat on the edge of my bed and looked at the full-length mirror on the closet door. I looked like a girl. I could see my panties. I smacked my knees together but there still was a triangle through which I could see my white panties. I changed my panties into black and checked myself in the mirror again. I had to keep my knees together to not expose myself. But as mentioned, there was darkness in the triangle area and no panties were visible.

The next hour or so I wore the skirt. I walked around my room, bathroom, and hall on the second floor. The bra was constraining. I felt it all the time. I could forget that I was wearing the skirt. But I had to remind myself to keep my knees together.

 

 

After Cleo and Stan left, Minde came to my room.

“I owe you an apology,” he started. “I thought it was a prank and we could fix it any time. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. It will be practically impossible to change you back into a boy. Can you ever forgive me?”

“You don’t have to apologize. As mom had said it was my fault. I didn’t read the paperwork. What I don’t understand though, is why do you treat me like an object? You went to the school and set things up in a way that I would never do myself. Why? You were never there for me. Never. On my very first day at school, when I played sports or, my math and physics Olympiads. You were never there with me. I had to do everything by myself. And now you went to the school and decide what grade I will be in.”

“That was Stan. A few weeks ago he noticed you had one friend, Sandra. But you were more friends with Melanie instead of Sandra and other girls. He asked Cleo for help. Cleo is a professional.”

“Who’s Cleo?”

“She’s the HR Manager for our company,” Minde said.

“What’s that HR thing?”

“Human resources, like ‘kadrovik’ at home.”

“They have the KGB where you work?” A little sidetrack here. There was a KGB representative in every enterprise. They had the last say if any employee was suited for career growth, a foreign business trip, or allowed to work in a secret program. They were called Kadrovik, and they were doing all HR jobs there.

“No. It’s arranged a little differently here. She’s a psychologist. We just wanted her advice. So we invited her to our home.”

“Why you didn’t tell me?” I inquired.

“Stan was afraid you would be offended.”

“Why didn’t you tell them that I could cope with anything?”

“I told them what kind of father I was,” Minde admitted. “They didn't believe it was true. Cleo said I had to be more attentive. Anything added to nothing was more. I couldn’t think of what I could do for you. Cleo helped me. That was when Stan was with you in Providence.”

Oh! That was the religious word that the city was named.

“So Cleo knows I’m really a boy?”

“No!”

“That’s good. I was afraid she was suspicious of me.”

“The only thing she was suspicious about was your age. I had to reveal to Cleo and Stan today that your birth certificate was messed up and you are two years younger.”

“Oh… What will happen now?”

“Nothing…” Minde replied. “Cleo said it explains why you behave like a tween girl and not a fifteen-year-old one.”

 

 

5. Being myself. My first period. Bazaar and school uniform.

Each day was the same as any other day – chores, duties, groceries, and laundry.

Then one day, a week or so later, Minde came home with Stan.

“There is a way to fix this,” Stan started. “You may identify as a boy while physically a girl. You’ll claim gender dysphoria and it will be a reason to change back into boy mode.”

“When?” I was a little impatient.

“It won't work immediately. You have to identify as a boy. Convince others you are a boy inside.”

“I’m sorry Kris, but you will have to attend school as a girl,” Minde said. “That includes the school uniform, girls’ classes and…”

“Wait, what girls’ classes?”

“Like Gym and Home Economics,” Stan explained.

“Just be yourself,” Minde offered. I did remember Stan saying the same when I asked how to be a girl.

 

 

Summer was coming to an end and school starts soon, but, I still had a few things to do. I had an appointment with the doctor. Not the one who had rearranged my boy things, but that one who prescribed my vitamins and sent my health certificate to the school.

After the doc, I had planned to buy some groceries so I rode my bike. It rained the night before, so in the morning there were still some puddles on the road. Passing one puddle I managed to hit a pothole and the blow made the seat top crack and shot a spring up into my groin. I checked myself discretely and my shorts weren’t torn. I used duct tape and a plastic bag to fix the broken seat.

At the doc’s office, there were a lot of people. But I had an appointment so I went in quick. The nurse checked my vitals, measured my height and weight. The doc asked if I was taking the prescribed pills. Then she suddenly said, “I want to check how things are going this time. Please change into a gown.”

“Take all your clothes off,” the nurse told me.

I was sure that my body was rearranged properly and I wasn’t afraid to undress. When the bra came off the doc examined my chest.

“Not much there, but I feel some development,” she said.

The nurse handed me a paper gown and helped me to get in it. I pulled my panties down and there was a fresh bloodstain on them.

“Shit!” I muttered to myself and then it dawned to me I’d said it in English and both women would understand what I said. My hand automatically shot up to cover my mouth and I said, “I’m sorry…”

“When did it happen?” the doc asked.

“On the way here,” I said.

“Weren’t you prepared for it?”

“I have roller-bandage in my backpack,” I said. I was prepared for an emergency. “But I had no occasion to check myself.”

“Don’t you have a pad?” the nurse asked.

“What’s this?” I shook my head no.

“Didn’t your mother show you what to do?”

“I don’t have mom,” I replied. Even if I had a mom, how could she know I'd hit a pothole on the way.

“Oh, you poor thing!” they both exclaimed in unison.

“Put this in your panties, this side up, and fix in place by folding those wings down.”The nurse gave me a strange cotton dressing-like thing and showed me how to fix it inside my panties.

“Change every time you use a toilet,” the doc offered me a pack of those things. “And take this brochure to read at home. There is everything you’ll need to know.”

The brochure was titled ‘My very first period’.

“Come back for a new prescription after you finish your pills,” the doc said and dismissed me.

 

 

I had two big problems now. The first one – what I’d damaged in my groin. I examined myself in the mirror at home. There was nothing serious just a little spot where the broken spring shot into. Nothing serious.

Another problem was my broken bike seat. Because of its size, the seat wasn’t as common as most other bikes. You could get it in the store but it cost thirty-nine dollars. That’s more than my bike cost with all the accessories. Sigh…

When I got home, I checked my shorts, I found out they were torn. Those were the last clean pair, so I had no choice but to put a skirt on. I liked denim the most cuz it had pockets. The pockets weren’t as big as they were in shorts or pants, but they were pockets for things, like money and keys.

At the bike shop, I didn’t remove the seat fast enough.

“May I help you miss?”

Miss? Well, I was wearing a skirt so, who would possibly think that I was a boy? I looked up and there was Claude.

“Oh…” I said. But then I thought I was being impolite, “I mean, hi!”

“Hi Crystal. I didn’t recognize you at first,” Claude replied. “What happened?”

“I need to change my seat, this one is broken. I need this particular one because its stem is non-standard and…”

“It’s standard junior size.”

“You mean kids?”

“Not kids, junior,” he insisted.

“Ok then. Thanks,” I replied and bent down to unfasten the old seat.

“Let me help you,” Claude offered.

I didn’t like the idea of Claude doing my job. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to be rude, so maybe it was… as I was considering how to respond Claude removed the old seat.

“Let’s go. I’ll show you what we have,” he ushered me into the store.

I turned to the spare parts section but Claude took me in the opposite direction. We passed the bike section. We entered another section where the junior bikes were. It wasn’t as big as the adult section, but not small. I had been in this store before, but I’d never been in this section. I didn’t even know it was here. I explored stores by myself. I didn’t ask the staff for help because my English was worse than poor.

“Here we are,” Claude said. “Those seats are the size you need.”

There were almost ten different choices - narrow and wide, hard and soft, leather and plastic.

“I think this one suits your needs the best,” Claude offered me a wide soft plastic seat. “It’s for everyday use, not for racing. And this new material remains soft in freezing temperatures so you could ride in winter. And as a plus, it matches your bike’s color.”

That was true. The seat was lavender. I’d say girly lavender. I wanted to ask for another color, something more boyish, that’s not so girly. But then I thought – it’s just a seat.

Another surprise – it was only six dollars. I had planned on spending thirty-nine but spent only six. It felt as if I made thirty-three dollars!

 

 

On my way back, I finally found the Farmers’ Market. It wasn’t like it was like back home. It was cleaner, with no dirt, and rubbish.

The reason I specifically wanted was for blueberries. That was my first disappointment – the blueberries were the same as the ones in the grocery store. They were not from the forest but harvested on the plantation. But veggies and fruits were good, much better than in the grocery.

 

 

School time was getting close and I went back to the mall for my uniform. This time I went with Sandra and her mom Melanie. My order was ready and I needed to check the way the clothes looked and felt.

The first thing was my new swimsuit. Why did I need one if I didn‘t swim? There it was anyway. A one-piece with an open back and bumps on the chest.

“When your breasts start to grow,” the assistant woman Nancy said, ”just remove the padding.”

To be honest I didn’t plan on growing my boobs. But I couldn’t say that.

Next was the uniform itself. That was a shirt, sorry blouse, skirt, ballet shoes, and jacket. The shoes were sorta ballet shoes but they were not as soft and their sole was rather hard. The jacket was heavy and long. The plus – it wasn’t mandatory in hot weather.

Melanie started fiddling around the hem of my skirt. The skirt was short – to the middle of my thigh. But Melanie made it even shorter.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Rule book says skirt’s hem can’t be above the jacket hem. It can be at the same height as the jacket’s hem though,” Sandra explained.

“It’s already short,” I complained.

“Don’t be a prude,” Sandra said. What does the word ‘prude’ mean?

“Girls your age look much better in shorter skirts,” Melanie added. “We will fix them at home.”

What could I say? Did I have a say?

“Check out this one too,” Nancy offered me the second skirt. “It’s made from another material.”

That other material made the skirt hug my bottom and made it feel round and big.

“Super!” Sandra exclaimed. “I want it too!”

“It’s a new arrival,” Nancy said.

Sandra got two new skirts. She was eager to get home and shorten them.

I wasn’t as enthusiastic as Sandra. I didn’t like the idea of this padding over my chest or skirt making my butt look big. I didn’t like the skirt so short. I dreaded sitting in it.

 

 

6. School. New friends. I got a job. New look. Stan.

I expected the first school day to be something very special. Sandra said and Melanie confirmed that it wasn’t. I decorated our home with flowers and Minde with Stan took pictures of me in my new uniform to send home.

I was in what they called an A-line skirt. I felt better in it than the other one that hugged my butt. It was the only skirt that wasn’t altered by Melanie. Anyway, I felt it was a little too short for me. I kept tugging the hem down.

I wanted to ride my bike but everybody said that the school bus was much better. Sandra and I went down the street to the florist shop where the school bus would pick us and other kids up every day. At the bus stop, two boys were there already. Sandra knew both of them and said their names were Sean and Ken. She didn’t talk to them and didn't say hi. She said they were geeks, whatever that was. I waved, smiled, and said hi anyway.

The bus came and we boarded it. Sandra’s friends were already there and they had kept a place for her, but not for me.

“Crystal!” someone waved a hand from the middle of the bus. It was Claude.

“Hi,” he said when I came near. “You wanna sit with me?” Claude motioned to the empty seat.

“Hi,” I greeted him back. “Thanks,” I said and sat down in the empty seat, not forgetting to keep the hem of my skirt straight out in front of me when something bumped into my back. It was my backpack. I’d forgotten to take it off before sitting down. So I stood up and repeated the same move with the backpack in my hands. This time I plopped down not holding the hem. I almost gasped when my bare thighs touched the cold plastic of the seat. I hated skirts and that stupid uniform.

The bus was divided into zones. The front was occupied by girls in small groups. The girls were gossiping and giggling. The back of the bus was taken by bigger boys. The giggles from the front of the bus were echoed by guffaw in the back. In the middle, there were all regular people. Like geeks Sean, Ken and their friends, or other boys and girls, like Claude and I.

The school was two separate buildings in one gated area. It was called a campus. The buildings were a junior high and a senior high school. The latter was the one I was attending.

Most kids knew each other from previous years. I knew Sandra, Claude, and Sandra’s friends Alice, Rachel, and Linda.

First, all of us were ushered into the auditorium. There some man, probably the principal, greeted us all and he made a speech. I didn’t understand what he was saying, the acoustics were terrible and my English was even worse. Later, we were divided into groups of twenty. My group went to what was called homeroom and there was a teacher. Homeroom is where the school day starts.

The homeroom teacher was a young woman, Minde’s age, Morgan Kramer. I would think Morgan was a masculine name but she was definitely a woman. She took roll call so we would know who was who. There were twelve boys and eight girls. That’s eight girls including me.

Ms. Kramer told us when the girls have Home Economics and she said that the boys will have a shop at the same time.

Later there were classes. In English and history, I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Language and history weren’t my best courses. Mathematics, physics, and chemistry were what I preferred. But I wasn’t sure about being able to communicate. There were clubs and some academic activities after school. I signed for programming.

The last period was the gym. Boys and girls were on opposite ends of the field. The teacher was evaluating our skill at running and jumping. There were some clubs too, but they called them teams. I couldn’t understand what these teams did, they were softball, soccer, and cheerleading.

Sandra said that I could be a cheerleader because I was a gymnast. I didn’t understand what that was.

“It’s kind of group gymnastics,” the gym teacher explained.

“I’m not good at group things. I’m too short,” I replied.

“Just show me what you can do with the other girls.”

Sandra and her friends showed me what jumps, tumbling, and splits they wanted me to do.

“Very well,” the teacher said, “I can use you.”

“But I’m not sure I want it,” I said.

“You’ll get a credit,” she offered.

“I don’t need it.”

“What do you mean you don’t need it?” the second teacher wondered.

“I don’t plan to buy anything so why would I need a credit?”

“Here credit is a point added to your graduation score,” is how Sandra tried to explain the significance of the credit.

“Oh… Ok then,” I agreed.

 

 

I and other new cheerleaders were about to start practice during gym classes. Then there will be another evaluation. Those who pass will join the squad. Another new word.

After school, I rode the bus home while Sandra and her friends stayed there for practice. As I exited the bus I saw a handwritten sign in the florist’s shop window – “Help wanted!”

I looked around and there was a dark tremendous cloud coming from the northeast. I rushed into the shop but the florist wasn’t there. I ran into the backyard and there she was. A huge amount of flowers in their pots were on the ground. If the rain started, all those plants would be washed out of their pots.

“Need help?” I asked her without greeting.

“Yes. Please,” she replied.

I dropped my backpack on the porch. We both get down to work moving pots one by one onto shelves in the basement. We had just finished when the first big drops of rain began to fall. It bucketed down shortly after that. The florist motioned me to come inside. I grabbed my backpack and followed her in.

“Let’s talk about money,” she offered.

“Have I damaged something?” I wondered.

“Oh, no!” She exclaimed. “About your payment.”

“No! You asked for help. We are neighbors. What are neighbors for then?”

“I guess you don’t understand,” she said. “The phrase ‘Help wanted’ indicates that I need an employee.”

“Ah… I can’t. I go to school.”

“That’s ok. I’ll need you two hours a day three times a week,” she explained.

“Is it legitimate?”

“Yes, of course!” she confirmed.

I got a job. My boss was Polly the florist. I’d never imagined it was so simple to get the job.

 

 

The first school day was remarkable. I got a job. And the weather changed. It was raining constantly. Not pouring but drizzling. Anyway, it was colder than before. Like sixty at day and dropping to fifty at night. So now I was wearing pantyhose under the skirt or shorts. I still don’t understand why girls were not allowed to wear pants instead. Rules are rules. I wore pantyhose every day to school and for the florist store and practice. Like any other girl.

Pantyhose is another unpractical feminine garment. It’s sliding down constantly. I just wanted to adjust it and suddenly it’s torn. Even the microscopic hole resulted in a running eye and the whole pantyhose was ruined. The next thing I had to do was to excuse myself and scurry to the bathroom and change into a spare one.

So much about bad weather.

Considering all other things my life changed. Not much. Homework, florist shop, practice, school. I had much less time for home. At home, cleaning, laundry, and meal were eating the rest of the time. Not much of it was left for me.

What else? My friends changed. Sandra and her friends didn’t bother to invite me to their sleepovers or other activities. I had no interest in fashions and cheerleading. We simply hadn’t many things to talk about. Claude had a new girlfriend Ruby and was spending all his free time with her.

I got closer with Ken and Sean. Sandra said the boys were losers. From my point of view, they were normal boys. More like regular people than sport-addicted Sandra and company or Claude with his buddies. Sean was in programming like I was. He introduced me to Unix and other network-related things I wasn’t familiar with. Ken was into the radio. He built his own radios and various gadgets.

I spent almost all my free time with Sean. He lived a block away from the florist shop in opposite direction to my home. I got to know his parents and baby sister (Sean’s words) Sidney. Sidney was in eighth grade. She was thirteen.

Once when my last pair of pantyhose was torn Sidney offered me a pair of her own. I liked it much more than mine. It wasn’t sheer and was softer and it was no run. It looked like a kids’ thing but it was so more comfortable that I bought some of them and wore them to school. Sandra sure disapproved of my new look but her mom Melanie said I looked cute. Minde said I looked like a kid but Stan liked it.

 

 

“Why isn’t Cleo coming over anymore?” I asked one day in October. It was already more than a month since her last visit. “Did you split because of me?”

“Why, no,” Minde replied.

“She did what we had asked her,” Stan said, “and that’s all.”

“I thought she was Minde’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, no!” Stan chuckled. “She’s married with three sons.”

It was a kind of relief.

“I thought she was offended. You know… because of me…”

“I guess she understands the reason for your behavior,” Stan said, “but if you want to apologize, it’s great. You may write her a letter.”

I felt better already. On the other hand, I was a little confused.

“Are you two, uh, like, uh, you know, err… like those men, uh, that…”

“If you think we are gay, we are not,” Stan replied. “I don’t have a steady girlfriend, but your dad…” and he winked at Minde.

I noticed how Minde at this instant blushed beet red. I giggled and Stan laughed. And Minde became even redder.

“Oh…” I managed to say.

I wanted to know everything about Minde’s girlfriend but he didn’t say a word. I didn’t pressure him.

 

 

Stan was like a family member. He was visiting very often. And he helped me a lot. Minde helped too but only after I’d asked him. Stan was different. He offered to help. Usually, it was when I was ready to ask Minde. Stan had this kind of sense to know the exact moment when to offer his help.

Usually, it was transportation. I had my bike and trailer. But I couldn’t take large and heavy things. Besides, it was drizzling almost every day lately. Simple grocery shopping was a problem.

Then I needed an adult to buy things I couldn’t buy myself. Like brandy and rum. Rum was good for preparing remedies in case of flu or cold. At home, Mom used brandy for some cakes or to make butter crème for cake finishing. Those were not my own recipes though.

At last… Stan was someone I could address with the question of what to wear for one or another occasion. Minde usually just shrugged and said nothing. Sandra and her mom Melanie tended to dress me in everything skimpy and tight showing a lot of bare skin. Stan explained what I was expected to look like and what jewelry to put on.

Stan brought me to Providence. This time the same doctor reverted me back into the boy. For one week only. He said some problems might start if things in my groin were left glued for two months or longer. Who needed additional problems? I didn’t. So once in a while, I had to be the boy for a week and then the girl again.