My problem didn't seem to have a medical solution that I knew of.

A couple of phone calls in the morning arranged things for me to take Tuesday afternoon off school, though Coach Wilson wanted me there for any part of practice I could make it to.

"We've got to get you and Dave synched up on the plays," he insisted. I could see his point. Tuesday was one-third of the time we had before the Friday game. I didn't relish having to do my little routine to get a shower. Hmm? What if I just arranged to come home for a shower?

I might be able to work that out, and thinking about it was better than thinking about the doctor appointment Megan had cornered me into. What the heck could the doctor tell me, anyway? My problem didn't seem to have a medical solution that I knew of.

I mean, changing sex sometimes made the news, but not how I had done it. And did women ever try to change to men? How would that work?

I picked up Jake and Megan in reverse order of how I had dropped them off the night before, climbing down on the driver's side at Megan's stop to help boost her into the tall cab.

"Hey guys," she chirped after sitting in the middle of the bench seat. "Did you get the reading done?"

Jake shrugged, and I grinned at them because, yeah, I had got it done. Reading as homework is way easy for me.

"There's probably going to be a pop quiz on it tomorrow," Megan pointed out. I grinned at her. As jocks and cheerleaders, pop quizzes don't count against our semester grades, and Megan knew this as well as Jake and I did and gave up trying to needle us over it.

Jake glared out the side window toward the desert hills southeast of town, a much less inspiring view than the Mogollon Rim to the north. "You let Coach know about your doctor appointment?" he rumbled a question.

"Yeah," I answered, not trying to out-John Wayne his gruffness. "The office, too." Meaning the school administration office.

He grunted. "Neither of them ask what kind of doctor?"

I grunted back, a bit annoyed.

Megan looked from one of us to the other and giggled.

I smiled at her. She had a cute giggle. She poked me lightly in the ribs, and I grunted again to try to provoke another giggle. Just as cute as the first one.

I tried not to think about having a doctor's appointment with Megan's aunt, the gynecologist.

* * *

Senior history is immediately after and in the same classroom as homeroom, so we were all together, along with most of the other jocks and cheerleaders. At the same time, Mr. Anders took the roll and read announcements, followed by Mr. Mull's exciting lecture about the Hanseatic League.

Jake sat near Joanna, still looking like his pet budgie had died, while the blonde head cheerleader twiddled her fingers at us and dispensed benedictions on her congregation of other cheerleaders. I sat between Megan and Leland Frick, the team cinematographer, king of the outer row. It's amazing that a high school team has a cinematographer, but Lee made it happen by doing the job before anyone thought of telling him not to.

I caught Lee looking at me strangely mid-period and quirked an eyebrow at him. He looked startled, pushed his wire rims back up the beak of his nose and subtly shook his head. Well, if he wanted to tell me something was up, he probably would.

After having dismissed him from my attention, a worry nagged at me. Lee was probably the smartest kid in the senior class. He not only took movies of the football team but still photos for the school newspaper (The Handshake) and was president of the committee that would produce the school annual. On top of that, he had a 4.1 grade point average and had already won some sort of scholarship to the University of Colorado.

And he noticed things, often being the one to call Coach's attention to some weakness or lack in both the home and visitor's teams' preparation or execution. If anyone in the school might be able to figure out something about what had happened to me, it would probably be Leland Frick.

I turned my attention back to Mr. Mull's riveting account of trade among thirteenth-century North German coastal cities, frowning a bit, but I cheered up when I saw Megan reaching toward me. I reached out, too, and our fingers touched in the middle of the aisle between us. I wanted to laugh out loud at her gesture but managed to suppress it to a rather strangled-sounding hiccough.

My middle felt as if I had been tickled, and we smiled at each other. Leland probably saw our antics but Frick him.

The rest of the morning passed normally until meeting Megan outside English class third period, when I almost literally ran into Joanna Linklater. She was seriously leaning on Jake in the middle of the hallway like a cartoon drunk holding up a lamppost.

When Megan and I linked up, four hands in a tangled clasp, Joanna smirked at us.

I tried to ignore her as other students flowed around us, but she spoke in a voice that seemed to have an edge. "Hey, Petey," she cooed. "How's it hanging?"

Megan and I resolved our hand holding to something more conventional, then turned together to let someone else pass us, and I faced the head cheerleader. Jake appeared oblivious, and Megan was frowning.

"Joanna," I said in a mild voice. "I'm not your scratching post." Megan squeezed my hand, and she grinned for a moment.

Joanna frowned, and Jake snorted. Then they moved out of the way, and Megan and I went into class. "Oh, meow, Petey-Pete-Pete," my girlfriend whispered. I squeezed her hand back and tried not to laugh out loud. I probably shouldn't have poked at Ms. Linklater like that, but it had been fun.

*

We hadn't talked about it specifically, but I figured that Megan and I could leave after third period, get something to eat and be at the medical center by 1 p.m. Except, I got a message to come to the school office.

Mystified, and a bit apprehensive, I headed that way as class let out, Megan holding my hand. On the way, we passed Jake and Joanna, standing in line at the snack bar, glaring at each other.

"Wonder what that was about?" Megan asked.

I shrugged. I thought I could guess. With his arm still in a sling, Jake couldn't drive the truck, which I was still driving, anyway. Joanna had a car, but Jake wouldn't really fit in a '71 Beetle, so she was getting bitchy about eating on campus.

"Maybe she doesn't like the brand of kibble they're serving?" I suggested.

Megan giggled, which was what I wanted. “Pete, Petey, Pete,” she said. "So now, it's woof-woof, Joanna?"

I made a noise that wasn't a giggle, and we went in through the big double doors on the admin building.

At the desk, I was handed a note that just said, "Call home." I showed it to Megan, who squeezed my fingertips and made an encouraging noise.

The foyer of the admin building had a phone booth, so I headed over there rather than asking to use the desk phone. I didn't close the door, and Megan stood beside me as I dialed. I held the phone where Megan could hear, too.

Mom answered quickly.

"You wanted me to call home?" I asked.

"Hmm," she murmured. "You didn't mention any doctor appointment." It wasn't an accusation, just a statement. "The school called me to confirm."

"Ah," I stalled. I didn't want to lie to my Mom.

"Dr. Verre is a gynecologist. Is this really an appointment for Megan to find out if she's pregnant?"

"Ah!" I repeated, surprised. "N-not exactly. Mom, she couldn't be—um—. It-it was just one time," I babbled. Well, once before my miracle when I still had the equipment.

Mom snorted. "She most certainly could be from one time, Pete." A pause, then she went on. "You're both eighteen, but any girl who doesn't want to get pregnant should probably be on the pill. Is she there? I hear two people breathing. Let me talk to her."

I handed the phone to Megan, my hand shaking.

"Hey, Mrs. Peterson," she murmured." I heard what you said, uh huh?" She listened a moment, and I couldn't hear what Mom was saying. "I agree, and I know I'm not—uh, because I'm already on the pill, and we used protection besides. Yeah. It's just I need a refill. Uh-huh."

Then she giggled, and I looked at her. "He's standing right beside me, turning red enough to roast marshmallows."

I did hear Mom's laugh, and then they both hung up. Megan turned around and put her arms around me. "She's happy, but you know what, Petey-Petey-Pete?"

"What?" I leaned in for a quick lip smooch. Megan hadn't entirely lied to Mom but didn't seem to have a problem being indirect about the truth.

I was relieved until Megan said, "She's right about girls our age. We should probably both be on the pill."