Part 08 Real Love by Kim EM Copyright © 2003 by Kim EM All rights reserved

With humor and empathy, Kim tells the story of Billy, an 11-year-old whose life has reached a low point. Weaving in some autobiographical details, Kim follows Billy's journey toward becoming accepted as the girl he has always been.

 

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Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between this story and any actual person, living or dead, is coincidental. After writing this, God, I hope so. The story contains mature subject matter. It may contain adult situations and/or language. If you're not old enough to legally read this (and you know who you are), then get out of here before it's too late. You've been warned.

Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as long as the text is unaltered, and my copyright and this notice are included. Oh, and this permission is conditional upon it's being available only on free sites. No membership fee, "Adult Check", or other means of skinning money out of people are allowed.

I'd love to hear from any readers with comments. E-mail me at [email protected]
 
Earlier chapters and other stories are available at:

Kim's Place : http://www.kimem.net
StoryPortal : http://www.storyportal.org
Crystal's : http://www.storysite.org
Fictionmania : http://www.fictionmania.com
Sapphire’s : http://www.sapphireplace.com
 
This part of the story is dedicated to the real Pepper, the only faithful friend of my childhood.
 

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Previously:
 
By the time the finale had ended, Pepper was a quivering mess. As Mom and Dad loaded up the cart, I had comforted her to the point where she shakily jumped from the cart and relieved herself on the grass. Dad helped her back onto the back of the golf cart and we started back for home. As we slowed for the turn onto the third fairway, a couple of other carts approached. On the carts were — Oh, no! — Mrs. Libby, Mrs. Bandurski, their husbands, and Gail and Tina.

I huddled down between Mom and Dad as a stream of invective came from Mrs. Libby.
 
 

Chapter Thirty-Five: THE VERY AIR TURNING BLUE
 
Dad kept the cart moving, trying to outrun the others, but the little battery-powered motor wasn't capable of any great speed. A running adult could have easily kept up with it. It was pretty scary, moving through the darkness, not being able to see where we were going. We might have bailed out and run, if not for my still-healing wounds. There was very little moon that night, and the golf course was unlighted, so it was just bumps and unexpected jolts, and the shouts of a raving madwoman over the whine of the three golf carts.

It's a good thing Dad knew the course so well, because he was able to pilot by dead reckoning through the fairway and past the sand traps to the side of the course. An avid golfer, he was out there several times a week, and knew every bump and gopher hole on the course. The others weren't so good… Mister Bandurski almost tipped their cart at the lip of a sand trap, but was able to keep the cart upright and moving.

The near-spill caused them to lose some ground, and Dad pulled slightly to the right, away from the implacable Libby cart, but the pathway was narrowing, and he didn't really have anywhere to run. Mom drew me to her side, holding me tightly, and I could hear Pepper in the back, a low rumbling growl coming from her throat.

Dad warned us to hold on tight, and took an abrupt rightward turn across the green. I know that must have hurt him, but by this point we knew the Libbys weren't going to give up, and we had to find a way to get away from them. Cutting across the green may have been a mistake, though, because our wheels slipped on the damp grass, and the card abruptly slewed sideways. We didn't tip, though, and Dad recovered and hurtled the cart off the other side, the Libby's cart in close pursuit, the Bandurskis following just behind.

Mrs. Libby's stream of invective hadn't slowed one bit. I guess she wasn't as imaginative as I'd thought; she was starting to repeat herself. A little way past the green we came to a natural bottleneck. To the left was a concrete retaining wall, holding back a hill with houses atop it... I'm not entirely sure why the wall was there, since the hill was in no danger of sliding onto the course, but I guess they had their reasons when they built it back in the twenties.

To our right was a man-made lake, created a few years before when some developers had tried to drain the swamplands to the south of the course, in order to build houses. They'd created a fair sized lake near the course, but had been unable to build, since they'd discovered a twenty-foot layer of peat. I'm sure it was good for something, but not the place to plant the foundation of a house. So the muck lay there, creating a barrier that no golf cart could hope to cross.

In between these impassable barriers was a small woodlot, little scrubby trees not over thirty foot tall, growing so thickly that even in daylight it was difficult to walk between them, let along race a golf cart on a near-moonless night. Through its center, though, ran a cart path, about twenty yards long, connecting the second green to the third tee, and the other way the eighth green to the ninth tee.

It was narrow, though, and our slide across the green had put us at an awkward angle of approach. The Libby's cart had a better angle, and they were able to edge slightly ahead of us, nudging our cart just enough that we couldn't get to the path. Dad tried to nudge back, but the underpowered and overloaded cart couldn't deflect theirs, and we skidded to a stop just short of the trees.

The Libby cart was just ahead and to out left, blocking the entrance to the cart path, and the Bandurski cart pulled up behind and slightly to the right, blocking us so we couldn't back up to escape. Gail and Tina were screaming at their parents to stop this, to leave before someone got hurt, but their mothers were beyond listening, and their fathers just looked across the carts at each other, shaking their heads helplessly, meekly following the dictates of their wives.

Stuck as we were, Dad got out to face the Libby's, warning me in a low voice to stay put. He stepped around behind the Libby cart, circling around to confront Mister Libby, who'd been driving. Mom got out on her side, standing ready to face the Bandurskis, in case they came out of their cart. She moved back a few feet to stare them down after also telling me to sit tight.

Believe me, I had no intention of going anywhere. Given my physical condition, I couldn't have outrun a puppy, let alone two maniacal adults. This was a really bad situation, and it looked as though it might turn nasty at any time. Nasty! What was I thinking? It was nasty, had been nasty, and didn't show any signs of changing for the better.

Pepper jumped over the seat back, standing on the seat to my right, her fur bristling and an ominous growl coming from low in her throat. I hugged Pepper tightly, and she turned to me, quickly giving my face a lick, then turning back and tensing, looking around between the Libby and Bandurski carts. I could see she was upset and ready to fight. I don't think I'd ever seen Pepper like that before. Since I'd gotten her, she had been the gentlest of creatures, keeping me company in my loneliness, always at my side. Now, seeing her like this had me scared. If she was ready to fight, things must be even more dangerous than I'd thought.

Mom still stood facing the Bandurski cart, her arms folded and a cold look on her face. Mr. Bandurski sat, both hands on the steering wheel, while Mrs. Bandurski flinched back and almost seemed to shrink in her seat. Gail held her father's arm, tightly, imploring him to back up and take them home, telling him that this was wrong. He seemed confused, and frightened himself, but after giving a quick look to his wife, he returned to his motionless pose at the wheel.

I looked the other way, where Dad had stepped up to Mister Libby, and started arguing with him. I hoped this wasn't going to turn into a fight. Dad was about 5' 10", where Mister Libby was more like 5' 6", and Dad was a lot bulkier and heavier, having been somewhat of an athlete in his younger days, but he was a good fifteen years older than Mr. Libby, and I didn't want him hurt.

Dad and Mister Libby were shouting at each other by this point, and Tina was begging her father to go home and not do this, but was being ignored. Mrs. Libby was adding to the wild situation in the cart by launching a fresh streak of profanity, her face turning visibly redder as she went along.

Dad and Mister Libby continued shouting at each other, the very air turning blue around them, and I sat, huddling down, miserably hugging Pepper for all I had, wishing this night was over. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I had the bad feeling that someone was going to get hurt before this all ended.

Mrs. Libby finally hit what must have been her blow-off point, because she suddenly leapt from the cart, her voice rising to a crescendo, and loomed over me. I tried to draw back, but there was no place to go, and she reached out and grabbed me, yanking me bodily out of the seat and pulling me from the cart. I was still holding Pepper for dear life, and she squawked briefly at being lifted, then her growl came back full-force.

Mrs. Libby gave me a hard shove, releasing me as she did, and I tumbled backwards, falling over the bumper of the cart and landing square on my back and shoulders, Pepper landing heavily on my belly. As I hit, I felt something inside me rip, and multiple blinding flashes of pain. My head, shoulders, and belly were all on fire, especially my belly where it felt like someone had tried to rip out my insides.

I heard my Mom scream, and Dad lunged past the Libby cart towards Mrs. Libby.

I tried to scoot backwards and get away, but whatever strength I had was gone, and I doubled over clutching myself, vomiting, feeling the pain and wetness from below, looking down and seeing something black against the darkness seeping through my skirt.

A sudden blow to the head rocked me, causing me to fall limp as Mrs. Libby's foot connected with the side of my face. I couldn't think, the pain almost taking me out of the world entirely, but I tried to fight it and clear my head. Again her foot connected, slamming my head to the ground, and making me vomit again as blood flowed freely from my nose. Dad tried desperately to reach her to stop her, but was being held by Mister Libby, who had surprisingly been able to latch onto Dad and not let go.

I could hear scuffling from the other side of the cart, and Mom's cries of rage. I couldn't see, though, being half below the front of the cart, and my eyes dimming with the blood and pain. As the foot drew back to strike once again, a dark shape flew overhead, and as I passed out I could hear Pepper snarling and tearing and the last I heard was a scream of pain from Mrs. Libby and then everything was gone.
 
 

Chapter Thirty-Six: SOMETHING I DIDN'T WANT TO LIVE WITH
 
The next I knew, I woke into a world of grey fog, lightening gradually into a too-familiar scene. I groaned at the sight of another hospital room. It seemed like I'd spent much of the summer in one hospital or the other, and it was getting to be annoying.

With a sinking feeling, I knew. When Mrs. Libby had dragged me to the ground, something inside me had ripped apart, and the not-yet-fully-healed repairs had come undone. How bad was the damage this time?

Was this going to be my fate? Bad enough when I'd been at least theoretically a boy. The constant beatings from the other kids were bad, bad enough that I had finally been driven to find a way to take my own life. But this! Since I'd publicly become a girl I'd been ostracized, beaten, knifed, and mutilated, and now attacked again. This was too much. Too much. If this was what life had to offer me, it wasn't worth it... better to end it now and get out before things got even worse.

As I lay there, thinking over what to do — and how — and when, a nurse walked briskly into my room, stopped, and looked at my solemn expression. She took a good look, nodded, and quietly said, "The good part is, you're awake." She stepped up to my side, reached for my wrist, and started taking my pulse. "The bad part is, you're awake." I nodded dourly, and as she bent close to take a good look into my eyes, she whispered, "You're not supposed to agree with me."

My eyes ran quickly across the room, and then focused again on her face. "This is the last place I wanted to wake up."

She nodded, and seemingly pulled a thermometer out of thin air, sticking it into my mouth, under the tongue. "Keep your mouth closed for a moment."

I nodded, and she moved on to checking something at the side of the bed, down near the floor. I looked on with some interest, wondering what she was doing. She 'thumped' something out of my sight, and it sounded like her fingernail on glass. I mentally shrugged, figuring I'd find out in time. She straightened up, spent a minute or two scribbling in a notebook I hadn't noticed, then reached over and took the thermometer from my mouth.

After a moment, she smiled and said, "There, that looks much better. I'll call Doctor Jenkins and let him know you're up." With that and a casual flip of the hand, she left the room, and I was once again on my own.

The nurse's quick exam had been a bit of a distraction, but the issue remained... I didn't want to go on if my life was going to become a series of hospital stays broken by new opportunities to get hurt. Even though I was now physically the same as any other girl (at least on the outside), I still was the target of choice. I supposed it was because people saw me as some sort of freak.

I didn't think there was anything much to be done about that, except maybe time, for the fact of the change to fade from people's consciousness. The fact remained that pretty much everyone in the Michigan City area knew about me, and I'd be willing to bet that this new attack would be played up in the News-Dispatch, and when I got out I'd be the subject of even more attention.

There wasn't any way around it that I could see. I was fated to be considered the town pervert, I was sure, and that's something I didn't want to — couldn't — live with.

I woke up to find someone standing at my bedside, scribbling into a notepad. "Ah, you're awake. Good," he said with what I took to be a British accent.

"I'm glad someone thinks so."

He chuckled and said, "I'm Doctor Jenkins. I've been looking after you since your nasty little incident."

"Since... how long has it been?" I was starting to worry, now. Just how long had I been unconscious since having my head kicked in by Mrs. Libby?

"Not long," he said, "only since last night."

"Ohhh. All right. I was wondering there."

"Wondering?" He looked up from the notebook.

"I thought it might have been a lot longer." I tried sitting up, but couldn't seem to work up the strength. "What?"

He set the pad on the bedside table, and helped me back to a comfortably prone position. "Don't try sitting up just yet. You lost a fair amount of blood, it's a bit early, and you've got some injuries that will need time to heal."

"Injuries? I remember Mrs. Libby kicking me in the head, and pain in my belly. I think something in there tore. But why don't I feel it? Shouldn't I be in pain?"

He leaned over and stroked my forehead. "You will be. Right now you're still pumped full of painkillers. Once they start wearing off, you're going to be in a lot of pain."

"Great."

"I'm sorry."

I turned my head to look him in the eyes. "It's not your fault. It's that bit–that is, it's Mrs. Libby."

The doctor smiled gently. "You're not supposed to know words like that just yet. But yes, it appears to have been her fault, and she's been arrested."

"She's in jail?"

"Not exactly. She's under arrest, but she's here in the hospital, under guard."

"What happened?"

"Your dog, um, Pepper?"

"Yes?"

"When that woman tried kicking your face in, your dog leapt at her and took her down."

"PEPPER?"

"Mrs. Libby is suffering a lot of damage to her face, arms and hands."

"Pepper?"

"Mrs. Libby is going to be in need of a fair amount of cosmetic surgery. I think, no matter what happens with the police, she's going to be paying for last night for many years."

A voice came from the doorway. "I think it's safe to say a lot is going to be happening with the police."

"Wendy!"

In the doorway stood the police artist, Wendy, and another officer. She looked at the doctor and asked, "Can we come in? We need to interview Kimberly about last night."

He turned and picked up his notebook. "Certainly." He turned back to me and said, "I'll be back in a little bit and we can discuss your injuries and what we need to do about them."

"Okay, doctor."

He turned and headed out the door, saying something softly to Wendy as he passed. Wendy and the other policeman entered and approached my bed. There was only one visitor chair in the room, and she motioned the other officer to it, seating herself on the mattress at the foot of the bed.

"Your limp doesn't seem so bad today."

"It's a good day," she smiled. "I hope you're not feeling too horrible."

"Not yet, but the doctor tells me I will be."

"If you find yourself in too much pain, just tell me, and we'll stop and continue later."

"All right."

"I'm glad you're not in much pain right now. I have to tell you, you certainly look like hell."

The other officer flashed a shocked glance. "Wendy!"

She looked at him, amusement in her smile. "I should introduce Lieutenant Grant. Rob's been placed in charge of the investigation, and he asked me along since we'd already met."

"Lieutenant." I nodded to him.

"Good afternoon, Kimberly. I just need to ask you a few things about last night. I've already got a fair idea of what happened, but I need to hear your side of things."

"My side?" I asked in surprise.

"Well," he said, "that may not have been the best way to say it, but we need to know what happened from your perspective. That is, the way you saw it."

"I know what perspective means, Lieutenant."

Wendy got up and leaned over to him, speaking quietly, though I could still hear her clearly. "I told you, Rob, this is no ordinary eleven-year-old."

He nodded, grudgingly. "Eleven going on thirty sounds more like it."

"Ahem"

They both looked at me, and had the grace to look embarrassed.
 
 

Chapter Thirty-Seven: I FEARED IT HAD BEEN ANSWERED
 
It was just over a week later that I was allowed to return home. Still bruised and stitched and walking a bit funny, I made my way to the back door, holding onto Mom's arm. I stopped short, catching Mom by surprise.

Silence.

"Where's Pepper?"

Silence.

"Where's Pepper?"

"She's…" Mom started, and then stopped short.

"Mom?"

Silence.

"Dad?"

He averted his eyes, then turned to the door and keyed the lock. He stepped inside, Mom and I following. Once in the rec room, Mom helped me to the sofa, arranged some pillows, and helped me to a comfortable position.

Mom made a beeline for the stairs, while Dad went for the downstairs bathroom. I found myself alone, with my most important question unanswered. Or, rather, I feared it had been answered by their silence.

I heard the toilet flush, and a moment later the door opened and Dad came out. He quietly walked over to the sofa, stood looking down at me for a moment, then pulled up one of the other chairs to a position facing me across the coffee table. He sat, quietly watching me.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Honey?"

"Pepper. Is she… Did they…"

He gave a short, humorless laugh, and said, "She's okay. No one's done anything to her yet."

"Yet? Where is she?"

He looked at me seriously. "She's under quarantine. They have her locked up at Dr. Heinrich's animal hospital until the hearing."

"Hearing?" I looked helplessly at him. "What hearing?"

"The way the Libby's told it, Pepper attacked and disfigured Mrs. Libby without provocation. They claim she's a dangerous dog, and they want the city to destroy her."

"DAD!"

He swiftly moved over to the couch and held me. "It's going to be okay. We all know what really happened, and so do the police. That's why Natasha's been arrested and is being held without bail."

"The police… they aren't going to do anything to Pepper, are they? She was just trying to protect me."

"I doubt it. But Bob and Natasha are in tight with the politicians in town. They are raising a stink, even through they were the ones to start it. They've even been demanding that charges be filed against us for what happened."

"What?"

Dad chuckled. "Even their political friends laughed in their faces over that. No, nothing will happen on that front. And I'm sure Pepper will be okay. Things just have to go through channels before she can be released back to us."

"Okay." I relaxed back, thinking. After a bit, I suppose Dad felt ignored, because he got back up and returned to the other chair. He sat there for a while, watching me.

"Where did Mom go?"

"She's not dealing well with all this. The attack on the golf course — on top of everything else that's happened, she's feeling that you're going to continue to be in danger — and that there's nothing she can do to help."

"Oh, noooo."

"It's not your fault."

I nodded, thinking about what this had to be doing to Mom.

"I said, it's not your fault."

"But…"

"Kimb — Kimberly," Dad stumbled on the name, "listen to me. None of this is your fault."

"That's not true. It can't be."

"What," he asked seriously, "are you talking about?"

I rolled onto my side, ignoring the twinges of pain. I faced the back of the sofa, my back to Dad, clutching one of the throw pillows to my face. "If I hadn't — hadn't told Mom about me, back in May. If I hadn't told her I'm really a girl, none of this would have happened."

"Were you wrong," he asked gently. "Isn't becoming a girl what you wanted? What you thought you needed?"

I sobbed into the pillow, hot tears soaking the corduroy material. Dad crossed back from the chair to the edge of the sofa. I rolled towards him, and clutched him with all my strength, and he held me silently as I let the torrent of emotions out. Finally, the tears ran down, and I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes. I moaned, "What am I going to do?"

Dad gazed down at me and said, "It's too late now to change your mind… but I suppose, if we needed to, we could figure something out."

I looked at him in surprise. "Change my? What?"

"Isn't that what this was all about? You feeling you've made a terrible mistake?"

"No!"

"But, then-- what?"

"It's not being a girl, it's the people, isn't it?" Mom's voice came from the foot of the stairs. "You're having difficulty understanding the reactions of the people around you, right?"

"Yes."

Mom walked across the room, sitting in the chair so recently vacated by Dad. "I'm having trouble with that, too."

Dad looked a bit baffled. "Am I missing something?"

"Dad, it's the people I've run into. There's so many who don't understand, who treat me like some sort of freak, or like I have a disease that's catching. People like Bob at your office, or Aunt Marge, or, well, most of the people I meet."

"Not everyone is like that, you know."

"Not everyone, but enough. Gail and Tina are wonderful, and Ma, and Mrs. Kaczynski, and Elizabeth at the office. Joyce is okay. I'm sure there are others. But most people treat me as if I have leprosy. And then…"

"Then?"

"Look at what's happened since May. I was beaten at the end of school, and again at the mall. When I come home from the hospital in Chicago, I get beaten and knifed by three teenagers I've never even seen before. And they knew me, you know! Mrs. Libby flips out, and tries to kick my head in. Is THIS what I have to look forward to? " My voice rose as I talked, growing increasingly agitated. "Living where people's reactions range from fear and hatred to violence? Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like?"

Dad looked stricken, and turned to Mom, but she just looked helplessly back at him.

"It's not going to be like that, Honey. I don't know what we're going to do, yet, but we're not going to let that happen to you."
 
 

Chapter Thirty-Eight: ONE HELL OF A FAMILY
 
I was back to sitting on the porch, reading. There wasn't really much else I could do. Moving was still painful, even a few days after I'd returned home, and the doctor wanted me to rest as much as possible. So, there I was out on the porch, reading alone, just like I used to do all the time. The only difference is that now Pepper wasn't lying there at my feet.

Hearing a noise from the yard, I looked up, to find Gail's head sticking out from behind the corner. She stepped out into the open, and asked, in a very small voice, "Can Tina and I come in?"

I nodded, and she beckoned, and Tina stepped diffidently around the corner. They hesitantly walked up to me and stood, heads down. Tina finally looked up, slightly, and said, "We weren't sure if you'd want to see us, not after what my mom did to you."

"Look at me." They did. "What your mother did was horrible, and I doubt I'll ever find it in my heart to forgive her." They both looked down to the floor again. "That was her, not you. It would be insane for me to blame you for the stuff she did."

They looked up again, smiling shyly.

"Besides, you're my friends."

After a few more minutes, they both were sitting casually as we chatted away. We talked and talked, about everything under the sun, except her mother and the recent events. Mom came out onto the porch a few times, and we wound up with sandwiches and lemonade.

Eventually, I needed to use the toilet, and I had to ask them to help me to the bathroom. With Tina holding my elbow, I made it to the bathroom, and once alone, took care of my business. After cleaning up, they again helped me back to the porch.

As I gratefully eased back into my lounge chair, I said, "I really hate this."

Gail asked, "What?"

"Being sick all of the time. It seems like, as soon as I get a little better, something else happens. It's getting really old. I haven't spent this much time in the hospital in my life."

"You're only eleven," Tine contributed.

"That makes it better?"

"Maybe this was the last time."

I laughed sourly. "That's what I thought the last time."

"Umm."

"And the time before."

"Oh."

"This can't go on. I -- I can't deal with it if that's what the rest of my life is going to be like."

"What?"

"Look, I've been beaten, cut, and stomped this summer. People keep treating me like I have leprosy. Is THAT all I have to look forward to?"

"No!" Tina and Gail said as one.

Tina stood and faced me. "Look, a good part of the problems were caused by my family. My brother," she fairly spat the word, "is a bully and a thug, and," nodding towards Gail, "a rapist. My mom is a -- well, a real bitch."

Gail gasped at the language. "Tina!"

Tina didn't flinch. "It's true, isn't it?"

I couldn't resist. "I'm not going to argue with you."

Gail: "Kim!"

"Listen," I said, "Her son has made a career of being a Jay Dee, and finally took it far enough that, well, you know what's happened. She's been supporting him in all this, keeping everything hidden and letting him go on his merry way. She's been sleeping with your mom, and it's not hard to see that she's the one who runs the couple." Gail flinched, and I apologized. "Sorry."

"No, it's true. Mrs. Libby has been bossing Mom around for years." She sighed. "I've never been able to figure out why. It's kind of like Mom is her servant or something. I know it's silly, but…" She trailed off.

Tina sat back down, sitting forward tensely. "Mom's in the middle of lots of bad stuff. She always has been, and I doubt she'll ever change. Maybe if this sends her to jail, it'll give her some sense."

"Isn't there anything your dad can do?"

Tina laughed. "My dad? You mean Pharaoh Squaraoh? He spends all his time at the office in Chicago. And when he's not there, he's out drinking and chasing…" She paused. "I'm not supposed to know this, but he's, um, not really interested in women." She sank back into her chair, her eyes suddenly squeezing tightly shut. "It's one hell of a family."

Gail was out of her chair and into Tina's in a flash, holding her tightly, as tears crept from under her quivering lids.

Tina forced out, in a broken voice, "God knows what'll happen to me when I grow up."
 
 

Chapter Thirty-Nine: THERE WAS ONLY ONE WAY
 
I was still worrying about what the future might bring. It was getting frustrating… everyone else seemed to acknowledge that there was a problem, but somehow before I could pursue the idea to its conclusion, we always got distracted onto a tangent.

Anyways, I was spending a lot of time lying around reading and watching television. There wasn't a whole lot else I could do. Although my strength was slowly returning, I was still pretty weak, and anything more taxing than a walk to the bathroom or kitchen was too much for me to handle.

The place seemed strangely empty without Pepper. She was never allowed upstairs, and I was avoiding the rec room because she wasn't there. I hoped she was doing okay at the kennel. She'd already been locked up a few weeks, and they wouldn't let me or my parents see her. Until the hearing in another week or so, she was going to be kept in strict quarantine, and I could just imagine how low she must be feeling.

I'd run through all my unread books. I hadn't been able to get to the bookstore since school let out, and I was now rereading some favorites.

This day was a bit muggy and rainy, and I'd retreated to the rec room to read. While I was avoiding that place, it was the only part of the house with air conditioning, and at that point the only place where it wasn't like breathing soup.

I heard the doorbell ring upstairs. It was the front door's bell. It was easy to tell — the back door had a "Ding-Dong" sound, but the front door's was a more complex set of chimes. I'm not positive, but I think it might have been an imitation of Big Ben or some such.

I could hear Mom getting the door, and then low voices from the foyer. After a moment the voices stopped and I heard her on the stairs. She came into the rec room and stopped. "There's someone here to see you. I'd have sent him in, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see him."

"Who?"

"It's someone from Notre Dame, Gary Silvers."

"Ummm." I was kind of surprised. While Gary had never been one of the guys who'd made my life hell, we'd never been all that friendly. I couldn't imagine why he'd stopped by. I guessed there was only one way to find out.

"Honey?"

"You might as well send him in."

Mom went back to the front hall while I tried to arrange myself. What the heck was he doing here?

He cautiously walked into the rec room and looked around. This was the first time he'd been there since my sixth birthday, and the room had changed a bit. I'd certainly changed more than a bit.

Gary walked up to me, gave me a good look, and said, shyly, "Hi."

"Hi." I motioned him to a chair.

"You've had a busy summer, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

He leaned forward. "I've been reading… that is, I've seen a lot of the stuff in the News-Dispatch, about what's happened to you since school ended."

I nodded.

He continued, earnestly. "I remember how you looked the last day of school… IN school, that is. I wasn't there when the guys beat you up."

I nodded again.

"I didn't know anything about it. Nobody told me a thing — if they had, I'd have warned you, or at least told the nun about it so she could have stopped it."

That earned a bitter laugh. "If she'd known, do you think she'd have lifted a finger to stop it?"

"What? Of course she would. Wouldn't she?"

"I'm not so sure. You know just how much I've been beaten since second grade. Do you really think that could have gone on if the nuns are tried to stop it?"

He sat back, slumping in his seat. He said, thoughtfully, "Didn't they?"

"Nobody has EVER been punished for beating me up. Not until the beating at the mall."

He replied, in surprise, "What? You're kidding!"

"With these nuns? You've seen them for years, working on me. I've never been what they wanted, and they've done all they could to change me."

"But…"

I plunged on, "You've seen them in class, right? Making fun of me in front of the class? Singling me out for a tongue-lashing when things didn't go the way they wanted?"

He nodded. "Yes, but…"

"That's how they work. Mock and humiliate the person, and if that doesn't work, well, you've marked them out as 'designated target'."

"Desi… Designated?"

"It means, it's like they painted a target on my back and invited the other kids to start whomping."

He turned a bit pale at that. "I... I never even noticed."

"You were lucky. Since I was there, I got to be the target. If I hadn't, then someone else would have become the goat. That's what they do — whoever they disapprove of the most becomes the whipping boy. The first time I was beaten up by a couple of the larger kids, the nun — Remember Sister Lea? — did nothing. No punishment, no rebuking, nothing. No, that's not quite true. I was punished for 'not fighting back'. Can you imagine what that did, as far as letting the other kids know it was okay to take out after me?"

"No. No, I was there, and I never knew." He looked really upset, almost like he was ready to cry. Why it would affect him like that, I didn't know. It seemed like an overreaction, and yet–

I sat, silently, and waited. He sat, also silent, but I could see his thoughts were turned inward. Something was on his mind, something serious. What it could be, I didn't know, but I suspected he was making a decision. It took a while, but finally he returned to the outside world, and he shifted in his chair.

"I've… That is, there's something I want to ask you. If you don't mind, that is."

"Gary, I think you can ask pretty much anything. I might refuse to answer, but I'm not going to get mad if it's something you really want to know."

"Okay, thanks. It's just that this is hard. I mean, I don't know how to say…" He trailed off to an embarrassed silence.

"You might as well spit it out. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to freak at the question."

"Oh — Okay. I just wanted to ask… What… I mean how… How did you tell your parents?"

"Tell them?"

"Um, yeah. How did you manage to tell them…"

"That I was really a girl?"

"Yeah." He was bright pink and staring intently at his sneakers. "Weren't you afraid?"

I let out a long breath. Now I knew what was bothering him, and it's something I'd have never suspected. "I was afraid — more afraid than I've ever been in my life." He continued to stare down at the floor. "But I managed to tell my mom, after a lot of worrying. I thought they would hate me, that they might want to put me out onto the street."

"But…."

"But they didn't. They listened, and we saw the doctor…" This time I trailed off.

"What?"

"The doctor didn't react well. He…"

"Yes?"
 
 

Chapter Forty: THE TRUTH ABOUT CATS AND DOGS, PART 3
 
She'd been in the cage forever, waiting.

The last time she had seen her human, the Evil One was trying to kick the girl's head in. Since then, nothing. No sign of her person, nobody familiar, not even anyone carrying the scent of the little human.

She was proud of herself, though. For once, she'd been able to defend her charge, attacking the person trying to harm her. She had leapt right into the face of the Evil One, and started biting and clawing, and it had stopped the Evil One from kicking the little girl in the face. She'd kept at it, too, until one of the Big People had pulled her away, and by then the evil one was huddled into a ball, retching and screaming. She wanted to see if the little one was okay, but the Big Person held onto her collar, and the other Big Person knelt at the girl's side, blocking her view. All she knew was that she smelled blood, and coming from her human, this was a bad thing.

The other Little People, the ones who visited her at home, were crying and holding onto each other, smelling of fear and grief, and looking like they wanted to come over to hug her, but the big person who was with the Evil One held them back, making stern noises. The other big people had left, and then returned a short while later with other big people in some Evil Things with flashing lights.

Several of the big people swarmed around her human, and a few others were by the Evil One, who was moaning and clutching at her face. The little human wasn't moving, and the big ones lifted her onto some sort of table on wheels, then put her into the back of an Evil Thing. She could smell their fear as well, and this worried her. She'd never smelled so many scared humans at one time — what did they have to be scared about?

She tried to join her human in the Evil Thing, but the big person still held her collar, keeping her back. The Evil Thing with her human drove off, and she stood, straining against her collar, whimpering.

More big people led the Evil One into another noisy Evil Thing, which then drove away.

A strange big person clipped a leash to her collar, and then led her into the back of yet another Evil Thing. It drove through the night darkness, until they came to the Place That Smelled Like Fear. She was taken inside and stuck with needles, then given a nasty bath, and finally locked, wet and miserable, into a fenced area.

She stayed there for days, then weeks, bored and scared and missing her person. She'd been in the cage forever, waiting.

Finally, on a really dull afternoon, someone came. The big person opened the gate, and stepped in carefully, a leash in their hand. The person clipped the leash to her collar, and led her out. She went willingly, hoping she might find her human.

Her nails clicked on the linoleum as she pulled at the leash, wanting to run, to hurry and find the little girl who was the center of her life. She pulled, but the big person was far stronger, and her paws went sliding across the tile. She could smell other dogs from out of her sight, but she ignored them. She was on a mission.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door, and sat to wait as the big person caught up and opened the door. Her nose told her, and she knew at once, and with all her strength pulled the leash from the person's hand. She scrabbled into motion, and launched herself into the room, almost leaping into the arms of her little human. The girl was sitting in some sort of chair with wheels, but she didn't bother about such things. The human she loved was here, and hugging her, and that was enough.

Life was good.
 
 

"I have done many foolish things in this life, but what I regret most are the things left undone"
 

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To Be Continued...
 
 
 © 2003 by Kim Em. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.