“Pft! No one is going to believe you used to be a boy!”

As eldest, I usually got to sit up front with the driver when I wanted to, and right now, I did because of the psychological edge it gave me in confidence. Enough confidence to say something like, “You know I’m never going on any dates,” and hope it would stick.

But Donna wouldn’t let it alone.

“What never?” she asked on a rising note from the seat directly behind me.

Oh, God. I couldn’t resist. “No, never!” I countered.

“What never!?” Mom came in on soprano, with a bit of a giggle from behind the steering wheel.

“I won’t say it,” I said, backing out.

So they both did. “Well, hardly ever!”

Of course, we all three had to giggle. G&S is just too silly.

“You’re going to get asked for dates!” Donna pointed out.

I glanced down at myself. Yeah, I probably will. I was wearing the denim skort set, and while it had a higher neckline than some of the other things I had acquired, there was no hiding my new shape. “I’ll just ignore them. It would be too risky. They might recognize me.”

Donna pooh-poohed that. “Pft! No one is going to believe you used to be a boy!”

“I’m still a boy!” I protested.

“There’s some question if you ever were a boy,” she pointed out.

I sighed. My medical situation would probably not be sorted out soon. It really looked like I would have to go to school Monday as Joni. We’d worked out a sort of half-baked explanation that I would pose as Aunt Heidi’s daughter, my own cousin, while attending until something got worked out with the doctors. But it already didn’t look good, since a big dose of testosterone had just made my chest grow two cup sizes overnight.

Mom negotiated the complicated side roads to get out of the parking lot around Fashion Valley and back onto the freeway heading east. She’d been concentrating on that task and ignoring the byplay between Donna and me until she actually made it into the traffic stream before commenting, “Your father should be home by now, maybe he has some news from trying to find a new doctor for you, Joni.”

“Eep!” I said. If Dad was home, he’d see me wearing the new girls’ clothes we’d bought, and suddenly that seemed like a bad thing. I tried to grab my nerves and head off a case of the shakes at the pass when Donna stuck her hand through the gap between the front seats to squeeze my arm.

“It’s okay, sis,” she said. “He’ll understand.”

I reached a hand over and grabbed hers to squeeze back. Being called ‘sis’ didn’t actually bother me so much right then because I needed the reassurance from Donna that she would stand beside me. We squabbled and fussed at each other, a lot, and I expected a raft of teasing but I knew we were family and that counted.

Mom changed freeways as smoothly as she ever managed it, and Donna and I kept our hands clasped while my face leaked a bit. We’d be home in a few minutes, and things had probably changed forever, but still, it was good to know I had people that cared about me.

Once home, I had the task of putting my new clothes away. Not that I really wanted to, but I couldn’t just throw them on the bed and expect someone else to do it. For the first time in my life, I contemplated what it would be like to be a truly spoiled princess. It kept my mood from going sour, and I grinned as I decided there would probably be drawbacks I hadn’t thought of.

Linda was underfoot, dashing in and out of my room with four-year-old energy. She had rushed back home from the neighbors’ as soon as Mom got the car stopped, and we opened the doors.

“Joni gots new clothes!” she squealed more than once.

I actually did dump everything on my bed temporarily while I tried to figure out where I might put it. Looking at my closet in its current state, I decided I should do a cull of things that were not going to fit. Hardly any of my shirts would work with my new figure, but I should still be able to wear some of the pants, and the shoes would still fit.

Linda ran in again about then, squealed something I didn’t catch and ran out. Had I ever had that much energy? I’m not even sixteen yet, and my baby sister makes me feel old. Still smiling, I pulled my winter coats and dress shirts out of my closet and lay them on the far end of the bed. Some of the pullover shirts I might still be able to wear, but any top clothes with buttons or zippers went into the sorted-out pile.

Linda was in again with something comprehensible to say. “Momma says you should try everything you got on again to show me!” she babbled.

“No, she didn’t,” I countered. Linda always used shoulds and woulds and coulds when she was lying about something someone else had said.

“Okay, she didn’t,” she agreed. “But would you? Puh-lease, Johnny? I mean Joni?”

“Not just yet,” I stalled. It occurred to me then that Mom and Donna would almost certainly want me to model things again for Dad when he got home. I mean…. I felt myself blush down to my toes. What was Dad going to say when he saw me in some of this really girly stuff?

I turned around and sat down on the only chair in my room. All of my sand had suddenly ran out, and I didn’t think I could stand up.

I had to get up and do something or just sit there until Mom or Donna came in to chivvy me into some other girly activity. Like painting my nails, maybe. This thought caused me to look at my nails, and I was annoyed to see that I had torn a nail and hadn’t even noticed it. Okay, that got me up and moving again. I got out my clippers and trimmed the torn bits off then used an emery board to smooth the nail edge, so I didn’t tear it again.

I’ve always been a little fussy about my nails. They’re not strong and tough like my Dad’s nails, and I am forever scuffing, breaking or tearing them. Especially, I reflected, when putting on or taking off clothes for some reason. Two years ago, Donna had talked me into trying nail polish, just a clear coat, and I had worn it during our vacation at Grandma and Grandpa’s place in Arizona. I’d even renewed the polish a time or two, but then when we got home, Rod Pick had said something about me wearing polish, and I had taken it all off.

I frowned. Rod was going to be someone I had to deal with because he knew darn well I didn’t have a cousin named Joni. I considered what I could say to him, what he might say, and if he would tell everyone who I really was while I put my new clothes on hangers and put them away.

Well, not the bra and polos. I emptied out my t-shirt drawer and put the polos there with my one spare bra folded in the corner. It was embarrassing to need such an item, but it was a heck of a lot more comfortable to wear one than not. I twitched my shoulders experimentally and felt my girls jiggle in their soft containers. Yep, a bra was a necessity.

I used one of the now-empty Nordstroms bags to hold the clothes I had definitely decided would no longer fit and put the bag and contents on the floor at the foot of the bed. Still not done with that chore.

I had all the new stuff put away but had laid my boy jeans and other pants on the bed for consideration. I closed and latched my door against the danger of low-flying baby sisters, then took off my jumper skort by just undoing the front and sort of stepping out of it. I didn’t hang it up yet, though, just lay it on the end of the bed closest to the closet.

I got a polo out from the drawer and put that on, then started trying on pants. Neither of my dress pants fit well anymore, and I scowled over my shoulder at the image of my round butt in gabardine or whatever it is such pants are made of. I would not be wearing those to church, that was certain, and both pair went into another empty shopping bag.

I tossed a pair of jeans in with them because I knew they wouldn’t fit without trying them on. But there might be hope among my other three pair. In the end, only the stretchiest pair fit at all well enough to be seen in public wearing them. Had my butt expanded at the same time as my bustline? I sighed. The view in the mirror looked a bit painted on, but at least I had one pair of boy jeans that sort of fit.

Someone tapped gently at my door. Had to be Mom. I stepped over and lifted the Linda-proof latch. “It’s open,” I said. “Come on in, Mom.”

She entered smiling. “You look nice in that,” she observed. “I sent Donna out to help Linda burn off a few fuel rods while I get some dinner ready. Do you want to come help me in the kitchen?”

I blinked. I help in the kitchen more than Donna probably does, but somehow suddenly, this feels different. But I agreed, “Okay. I was just trying on some of my old stuff, and this is the only pair of pants I have that fit anymore.”

She grinned. “Well, don’t complain! They fit very nicely.”

“You haven’t seen them from behind,” I warned her, but she only laughed.

I followed her toward the kitchen table, where I saw she had laid out some vegetables and implements of destruction.

“Your father is on the way home. I talked to him on the phone,” she said as she got out her measuring cups and spoons. “He’s arranged for you to see a specialist on Tuesday.”

I nodded. So maybe there was some sort of hope of getting me out of this situation.

“Oh,” Mom added. “I talked to Heidi, too. She’s at work showing homes in Newport, but she has promised to come down this week to see her new niece.”

I rolled my eyes, but Aunt Heidi is a practical person who knows how to have fun, too. Maybe she’d be a help. And if I’m going to be masquerading as my own cousin, then Aunt Heidi must be my new Mom?