The next morning we met the guys for breakfast, and, after some passionate kissing in the parking lot, headed our separate ways – we up the coast, they down.

We drove up Route 1, taking in the spectacular views. Mary wanted to talk about our recent adventure.

“About last night …”

“Yeah?”

“I’d rather you not mention it to my folks.”

“I wasn’t planning to. Besides, I’d rather forget about Ron and …”

“Why?”

“Because it was gay.”

“Not if you’re a girl … and even if it was, what’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am.”

“Well, last night should help you figure it out.”

“I guess.”

“Was that your first time with a boy?”

“It was my first time kissing anyone like that.”

“Would you like to do it again?”

“Well, as long as it didn’t go a lot further.”

“A little further would be ok?”

“Yes,” I blushed.

“But not a lot?”

“No.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“Well, I know that I’d probably get the crap beaten out of me if a guy got in my panties.”

“Depends on the guy.”

“I suppose so.”

“I notice you’re wearing lipstick today.”

“I ah … Yes, it makes me feel prettier.”

“That a girl! … Should I find you another virgin boy to seduce?”

“I didn’t seduce him … he kissed me.”

“And you kissed him back?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want him to stop.”

“The same with me and Don. … And he fondled your breast?”

“Yes.”

“Without your bra?”

“No, through my blouse.”

“But you liked it?”

“Yes … it made me feel … I’m not sure.”

“Did you want him to?”

“What?”

“Take off your bra?”

“Part of me did, but then he’d know I’m a boy.”

“But, you’re a girl. I keep telling you.”

“Well, I’m made like a boy.”

“Have you ever thought of doing something about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Growing your tits?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re already wearing a bra. You might as well have decent tits in it. If you like your boyish breasts being fondled, trust me, you’d love real tits. How about it?”

She pulled into a turnout with a magnificent ocean view. “Hand me my purse. … Here take two of these.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“It’s not a drug – not that kind anyway. Here’s some water. Down the hatch.”

“What was that?”

“Birth control pills – we don’t want you getting pregnant.

“You know I can’t.”

“Of course, but it’s going to help you in another way – growing tits. BC pills are female hormones. … Since I’m already pregnant, they’re no use to me. So you might as well take the lot.” She handed me a plastic case and six foil disks with pills to be punched out. “Take two a day until we can get you a proper prescription.”

I put the pills in my purse. They were so small. I doubted they’d do anything beyond making me feel more feminine. “Ah, thanks.” That was all there was to it. I took two a day as a kind of make Morgan more fem game – not expecting anything to happen.

We arrived at the Astoria house just after 1:00. It was a modest house for the neighborhood, which happened to be a gated community. The Astoria’s place had a pool and backed onto a golf course.

Mary’s parents, John and Kate, looked me over, maybe to see if I was pregnant too, then me greeted warmly. They were more chilly towards her. She’d told me they were very traditional and attended some sort of evangelical church. They weren’t happy that their only child hadn’t remained a virgin, but was bearing “a child out of wedlock,” as they put it. I was surprised they didn’t call their grandbaby a bastard, as that seemed to be how they thought of him/her.

Mary’s pregnancy wasn’t a big thing for me as a couple of my foster sisters had been pregnant. They seemed no better or worse than any of the other kids. Also, a lot of the expectant women in Faye’s practice were single. It might be better to have two parents, but I’d have been happy to have even one.

The greeting set the tone for the rest of the afternoon, which was formal and often strained. I was caught in the middle, with Mary using me as a buffer, while her parents tried to hold me up as a model of virtue – especially after I made the mistake of answering some intrusive questions.

“Morgan dear, where did you and Mary meet?” Kate asked.

“I worked at a doctor’s office and met her there.”

“Well, at least you were there because you got yourself knocked up,” John sniped.

“I don’t think anyone gets themselves knocked up, Mr. Astoria.” I wanted to defend my friend, but still be polite.

“I suppose not,” he reflected.

“I think John meant that you’re not the kind of girl who has sex before marriage,” Kate said, feigning a compliment.

“I suppose not. I’ve only kissed one boy.”

“Good for you dear,” she responded. I wondered what she would think if she knew I was a boy.

“Mary, you should try to be more like Morgan.”

Mary rolled her eyes, but said nothing. I was so incensed that I was about to tell them I was a boy, but remembered my promise to Mary and held my tongue. Later she apologized for her parents.

I suppose they felt they’d made their point. Anyway, they played nice after that. Later we had a home cooked meal with salad, pot roast and apple pie, and the conversation was casual and easy. As we were finishing our pie, John announced that we’d be going out for dinner the following night.

“I have a treat for you as well,” Kate announced. “I’m treating you girls to shopping and the salon tomorrow.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“That’s very kind of you, Kate.”

As Mary and I were dressing for bed, Kate knocked once and came into our room. A few seconds earlier, and she would have seen the bulge in my panties, but I had just put on my pink nitie.

“Morgan, dear, since you’re an orphan and just starting out in the world, I’d like to get you a few things tomorrow. You know, some simple accessories – to make up for my earlier behavior. I wonder what you’ll be wearing for dinner tomorrow?”

“I appreciate the thought, but you needn’t get me anything, Kate. I mean, I don’t wear jewelry.”

“Nonsense! I insist.”

I showed her my new dress and black pumps.

“What a cute dress! It will show off your lovely legs perfectly. … Sleep tight, girls.” She kissed us both and left.

“So, that’s what it’s like to have a mother,” I reflected.

“Yes – both frustrating and endearing.”

We started the next morning about 9:00, driving to the local mall.

“I always get Mary earrings when she visits. A girl never has too many.”

I followed along patiently, not paying a lot of attention. The next I knew I was sitting on a stool in The Ringing Belle having my ears double pierced. It was only when I saw double pearl studs in the mirror that I wondered how I could go back to being a boy with my ears pierced like that.

I was still wondering when we went into Macy’s.

“Morgan, you have a cute dress, but it needs accessorizing. So, I’m getting you a string of pearls – as a memento of your trip.”

I looked at Mary, hoping she’d stop her mother from wasting her money on a pearls for boy.

She smiled broadly. “I agree, mom. A pearl necklace would complete Morgan’s look and they would go perfectly with hi…r new studs.”

Kate didn’t catch Mary’s little slip, but I almost freaked. I emerged from my panic to hear Kate saying “… this one, Morgan?” She was pointing to a strand of pearls in the case. Not having head the question, I replied, “Oh, they’re so pretty, Kate.”

“Then you shall have them!”

“Mrs. Astoria, Kate, I really don’t need pearls. I’d have no where to wear them at home.”

“Nonsense, you can wear them on dates.”

I again looked anxiously at Mary, who only seemed amused at my plight. I left wearing my new pearls. Despite wondering what I’d do with them once I got home, I loved how special I felt and how pretty they made me look.

We had a salad in the food court and then left for the salon, where we spent the afternoon. The operator showed me a book of styles. I really liked one called a braided crown. The picture showed it decorated with little flowers woven into the braid, but she said it would be difficult to care for. It would be best for a special occasion and if I really liked it, I could have it for my wedding day. I blushed.

“I leave myself in your hands, Hanah.”

“Since you like braids, what if I give you a French braid with tendrils?”

I wasn’t sure what that was, but it turned out to be gorgeous. My hair was braided down my back with little curls hanging down over either temple. Unfortunately, she gave me bangs so I couldn’t return to my male ponytail. Still, I couldn’t imagine looking so good as a boy.

When Mary and I got back to our room, I wanted to be mad at her. “Look what you’ve done to me! How can I go back to being a boy with my ears pierced like this and bangs? Bangs! What kind of boy has bangs?”

“The kind of boy who’s a girl. Come on! I saw how happy you were when you looked in the mirror at the salon. And you love your pearls too – studs and all. Tell the truth … You like being pretty, don’t you?”

“Well, yes … But, how can I be a boy?”

“Do you want to be?”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t know.

That evening, I didn't feel at all like a boy as walked into Le Papillon in my new dress, pearls and heels. I imagined how Ron would react if he saw me now. I didn’t have long to wait – not that Ron was there, but a boy my age at the next table couldn’t take his eyes off of me. I was thrilled and exited to be so attractive, but, still, that a boy was attracted was confusing.

I took my pills every morning before Mary and I relaxed at her parents’ house, shopped, or did the tourist thing in San Francisco. Even in summer it’s too cold for a skirt or shorts in San Francisco, so Kate bought me a cute pair of embroidered jeans and a matching jacket that cost her a fortune. Mary insisted on flirting with any boys who took an interest in us. At first, I was shy and embarrassed, but by the end, I decided flirting was fun. It always made me feel pretty and interesting, and reminded me of kissing Ron. It wasn’t that I was attracted to boys sexually, but still, I enjoyed how they made me feel.

Our last night we had a home-cooked dinner and the conversation became serious. Mary’s parents wanted her to come home to have her baby, but she was happy living on her own.

“But, who’ll help you when the baby comes?” Kate asked.

Mary didn’t respond immediately, so I jumped in. “I’m going to go to birthing classes with Mary and be her birthing coach. I can also help take care of it.”

“Yes, that’s the plan. Morgan will be there for me.”

Now it was said and confirmed. You don't really think things out when you're just 18.