"If wishes were horses, all beggars would ride
And look down their noses from chargers astride.
If hope granted wings then lovers would fly
Away above clouds to castles in the sky."

Part 3 - If Wishes Were Horses...

by Wanda Cunningham

Chapter 6

The Fourth Wish

I combed some of the water out of my hair and found a hair dryer under the sink. I seldom used one but just then it was exactly what I wanted. I used it, and the comb, to quickly dry my hair but found myself oddly concerned with just how it looked.

It seemed much too short. Even though, at the same time, it seemed as if it might be longer than it had been this morning. I wanted to whimper.

And it was red. Not fiery red like Phoebe's or Aunt Maggie's, mostly brown but not the light ash brown it had been. It wasn't red enough to be cinnamon, more of a light auburn I decided. Really, a better color than it had been but how could anyone not notice?

I stuffed the edge of my hand into my mouth to stifle a sob. Then I cleaned up the bathroom. I used the smaller towel to wipe down the tub and shower stall and the larger one to soak up stray splashes on the floor. Then I hung both of them over the shower rail to dry a little before going into the hamper. I felt a bit cross with myself for not having remembered to bring a robe to the bathroom. Then I recalled that I didn't even know where my bathrobe might be--I hadn't seen it since the last time I got back from the hospital and we'd moved since then.

I'd put all my other clothes into the hamper so unless I turned another towel into a sari, I'd have to get to my bedroom naked. I opened the door and listened for the sound of computer keys clicking downstairs.

Hearing the reassuring sound of mom churning out professional lies, I dashed down the hall and into--Phoebe's room? For a wild moment, I actually considered raiding Phoebe's closet to see if I could find anything that would fit me. She'd moved her stuff in, what she wasn't taking to college, last weekend, before Mom and I actually moved in to live here. And she had a lot of clothes, she never threw anything away even stuff that no longer fit so probably something would fit me.

Back out again, quickly, and into my own room which was actually closer to the bathroom. "I'm losing my mind," I complained to no one.

I started to get dressed but all of my own clothes just felt wrong. The jockey-style briefs were the first problem. I simply did not want to put them on. They looked wrong, they felt wrong and I wanted to cry. I forced myself to put them on and bit my lip. The t-shirt was easier and yes, my little breasts did show a bit through the thin cotton.

I tried on three pairs of pants before I found a pair that seemed to fit right. Even though it didn't look as if it had, my butt had apparently gotten bigger. The waist of the pants didn't reach my waist but settled an inch or two lower, even so they seemed a bit short with an inch or so more of my ankles showing than usual. Had they always fit like this or had I had a growth spurt? A real growth spurt or something else?

I found an old oxford cloth shirt in my closet and put that on, wishing vaguely that it weren't plain white. What color I wanted it to be, I tried not to think about. I left the shirt hanging out to conceal where the waistband of my pants had ended up. My sneakers still fit well enough, even with my thick white socks.

I looked at myself in the long mirror on the back of the bedroom door. I looked a lot like Phoebe but I still really did look like me. Maybe I'd always looked like Phoebe? I put one hand on a hip and tried a Phoebe-pose, then turned quickly away from the mirror. That was too scary.

I went to the mirror over my dresser and tried to figure out what to do with my hair. Did it seem a little bit longer? I decided to conceal any changes. I'd never been much of one for caps but I had a few and the Anaheim Angels' cap seemed to do the best job of hiding my hair. I liked the red color, too. I resisted the urge to fuss with my hair and just crammed it under my cap. Phoebe could spend hours messing with her hair and I didn't want to get started.

I went down the stairs as quietly as I could. The house on Pine Ridge Road had three doors to the outside but to get to any of them I would have to pass within sight of my mom. I didn't want to talk to her, I didn't want her to see me, I didn't want to be asked for explanations. If I sneaked out and she discovered I was missing, I'd get a lecture later. Better than the risk of being forbidden to go look for the queen.

The stairs came down and emptied out into the short hall that ran sideways through the house. To the right and behind the stairs was the living room; to the left lay the downstairs bathroom and dad's office, the utility room and the door to the garage. Straight ahead was the dining room and the kitchen around the corner with the breakfast nook opening off of it. Diagonally across the dining room, my mom sat at her computer, clacking away at her latest opus, half-turned away from the stairs.

I contemplated my route. Straight ahead across the dining room lay the wide, glass doors out to the patio. If I went that way, mom would surely see me. I could go left down the hall through the utility room and into the backyard through the garage but that was a lot of doors to be opening and closing. I could go right and out the front door but I'd be in sight of mom a long time.

While I dithered, Mom looked up and saw me standing there. "Going out again?" she asked.

"Yeah," I admitted.

"It's after four and it gets dark early in the mountains, dear. Be back by six and we'll start some dinner." She went back to typing.

We'll start some dinner? Did she expect me to help her cook? She did, and what was worse, it kind of sounded like fun, like I wanted to learn to cook. I remembered Phoebe taking cooking lessons and getting all enthused about making pasta primavera and stuff. I could probably do that but did I really want to?

I shook my head then hurried through the dining room; the sliding glass door seemed heavier than before and I had to slow down to deal with it.

"You look cute," Mom commented. "Think the cap and bulky shirt will keep the itches away?"

"Uh, that's the idea?" I said.

"Good idea not tucking the shirt in, too." She grinned at me. "Phoebe used to love to wear your brothers' old shirts that way."

She did? I looked cute? I got out of there as fast as I could and tried not to think about it.

I went out the back gate onto the path behind the houses and started down toward what I had begun to think of as The Fairy Rocks. The sun was still more than an hour away from touching the mountains west of us but I had no real idea of how to get in touch with the queen other than going to the rocks and shouting. If she didn't answer, what could I do?

In a tense and desperate mood, I overreacted when I heard the clopping of hooves behind me. I turned quickly, realized the horse and rider were much closer than I might have thought, squealed and jumped off the path without really choosing a landing spot. I tripped over a log, tangled my legs in some fallen branches and knocked the wind out of myself against a tree trunk.

"Graceful." someone commented behind me and the horse noises stopped.

I felt my face reddening as I turned around. Sitting on a tall palomino, the neighbor boy I'd met earlier looked down at me. He still wasn't smiling but he did seem amused. So did the horse. Combined with the fact that I had bitten my tongue, their attitude made me feel cross. "You 'tartled me."

"Sorry," he said. "This is a horse path, you know."

"No, I tinnet?" I said.

He indicated a sign with a glance. "Bridal Path" it said. The misspelling didn't penetrate until later.

"Oh. Well, I'll be washing out for horses next time."

"Are you afraid of horses?" he asked.

I'd never given it much thought, not having been around the beasts much before. "N-no?" It was a very big animal and it did loom over me. "What's his name?"

"Phillip," said the horse.

"Roland," said the boy.

"What?" I said, looking from one to the other.

"Roland," the boy repeated. "What's your name?"

"Etan," I stammered. I tried again. "Etan Bartlett." I shrugged, the tip of my tongue had swollen slightly and made some sounds hard to say.

"That's an interesting name," he commented.

"Are you Phillip?"

His red-blond eyebrows went up. "Yes, Phillip Daniels. Did I tell you before?"

"Sorry," said Roland, flicking an ear. "I thought you were asking me what his name was."

I shrugged. "No, I...? Someone must have told me?"

He smiled then, just a quirk of his lips really. I grinned at him for some insane reason.

"Would you like a ride? Roland can easily carry two?"

Roland looked me over as if judging my weight and then nodded benignly.

Phillip leaned over, extending a hand toward me. "Just put your left foot on top of mine and swing up behind me."

I don't know why I did just that, but I did. He lifted me easily up behind him. He didn't have a saddle on the horse, just a blanket and a sort of thick pad. Being so close to Phillip seemed exciting and I laughed like Molly might have.

"Sit up close and put your arms around my waist," he told me. I did so. His muscles felt lean and hard under his shirt and I felt some sort of internal heat flow between us. "We're not going to go very fast, I'm just taking Roland for a long walk down the hill and back up to the stable."

"Stable?" I asked.

"Number Twenty-Three belongs to my uncle," he said. "He's got room for half a dozen horses up there, it's the last house on the hill."

"Oh, neat!" Something about the situation made me feel a bit giddy.

He patted the horse's neck and flicked the reins lightly. Roland ambled down the hill. "I live in number Five there," he nodded as we passed the gate where I had seen him earlier.

From atop the horse, I could look into the yards behind the houses, mostly at barbecue equipment but number Three had a pool, I noticed. "Who lives there?" I asked.

"The Atterberys. They're having a party on Monday and I've got an invitation. Would you like to come, too?"

"Uh?" I leaned against him enjoying myself and forgetting totally about fairies and curses and betrothal gifts.

"It'll be okay, they said I could bring a guest and you'll get to meet everyone. I'm surprised they haven't already invited you since you live here."

"Maybe," I said. "I'll have to ask my parents, maybe they got an invitation and hadn't told me?"

"Is it just you and your parents?"

I nodded against his back. "My brothers moved away and my sister is at college, she'll be here for holidays."

"It's just me and my folks, too. And mostly, just me and my mom. Dad is gone on business a lot."

"My dad works at home and mom is a novelist."

He turned to look at me over his shoulder. "For real?"

"Uh huh, she writes romance novels. Vicki Bartlett."

He smiled, a small smile that only quirked the corners of his mouth. "Well, I guess I've never read any of them then."

I laughed. I'd never read any of mom's books either but suddenly I felt curious about them. I'd have to take one of them off the long shelf at home and read it. Just so I knew what my mother had been doing.

He kept turning his head to look back at me. It put our faces awfully close together. "Aren't you supposed to be driving?" I asked.

He smiled his tiny smile again. "Roland knows the way, we won't get lost."

He turned away just in time, I thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest from looking into those pale eyes only a few inches away. I gasped or made some noise.

He looked back again. "You okay, Eden?"

Eden? Etan? Eaton? What did he call me? What had T.C. called me? I nodded, unable to speak just then. He put a hand on my hands where they were linked around his middle. The heat I'd felt before seemed to flow from his touch again, and this time I felt it concentrating in my nipples and groin. Could he feel against his back the little breasts fairy magic had grown on my chest?

I squeaked. I couldn't seem to move and my voice wouldn't work at all. Phillip must be thinking I was a girl. And maybe T.C. had thought that, too. And what was infinitely worse, I realized I'd probably been acting like a girl around them.

Phillip looked at me, his beautiful face again only inches away. Beautiful? How could a boy's face be beautiful?

"You're scared out of your wits and you aren't going to say anything about it," observed Phillip.

I nodded.

"Are you afraid of me, or of Roland?"

"Uh..." I trailed off, trembling a little.

He must have felt that. "It's me, then," he said. He pulled up on the reins slightly; Roland stopped his steady gait and just stood there patiently. I don't know how Phillip managed it, but suddenly he was on the ground and lifting me off of the horse's back. I stood there in front of him, he still had his hands around my waist, and I had to look up to see his face. "You've never had a boyfriend?" he asked, surprising me again.

I shook my head, still unable to speak. I'd never had a real girlfriend either. I'd never been on a real date.

Phillip smiled that odd non-smile of his. "I'd like to be your first boyfriend then. It's traditional at our school for the juniors to date freshman girls. So, shall we make it a date for Monday at the Atterbery's party?"

I never saw the train that hit me but I heard it. The roaring filled my ears and my brain and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on a log beside the path and Phillip was sitting next to me.

"I didn't expect you to faint on me," he said mildly.

"I didn't either."

"Do you need to lie down?"

"No, I think I'm okay, now." I patted myself and realized then that somewhere along the way I had lost my cap. Probably when I stumbled and ran into the tree.

His smile got a bit wider, for him almost a grin. "You hadn't answered the question yet?"

He sat very close, our legs were touching and he had an arm across my back. "What was the question?" I asked, having trouble breathing.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Eden?" Before I got the breath to answer, he added, "I wish you would say yes."

"Yes." I couldn't believe I'd said that!

I felt dizzy and weak and confused. It came on suddenly this time, and I thought I knew what it was. Not just shock at giving Phillip such an answer to his question but the workings of fairy magic; fairy magic that had forced me to grant Phillip's wish. The crystal clear air, the bright colors and somewhere the sound of fairy bells, this had all happened before. There didn't seem to be anything I could do about it.

He smiled his beautiful smile at me and I know I smiled weakly back. "Good," he said. "We can go to the Atterbery's party Monday but what are you doing tomorrow?" His arm around me squeezed gently.

"I have to..." I gasped. I tried to stand up but I couldn't move.

He sat back, giving me more room. "I've gone and scared you again. I'm sorry, Eden."

He was being so sweet. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I wondered if I could possibly think of anything scarier. I could. "I have to...go..."

He nodded. "All right. Do you need to ask your folks about going on a date with me?"

My head wobbled and he took that for nodding yes.

"They'll probably want to meet me?"

"Gurk," I said.

He smiled again. "You're so cute when you get shy. What if I walked you home right now? Or we could ride Roland?"

"Hey," said Roland. "We were going to go all the way down the hill and back up. I need my exercise, let's get moving."

"You have to--you have to finish your ride?" I said.

Phillip looked at the horse. "You're right. Roland gets all cranky if he doesn't get his walk. He's a year older than me and for a horse, that isn't young."

"Hmmph," said Roland. I think I must have giggled, as that grunt sounded exactly like my mother's Uncle Henry when he had expressed some opinion no one else agreed with. I glanced up at Phillip and even though he didn't smile I could tell I had amused him. I hugged myself to stop the shivering.

Phillip stood. "You still don't look as if you're ready to go anywhere. Why don't you sit right there, I'll take Roland down the hill and pick you up on the way back up. Then we can just walk back to your house if you don't want to ride?"

What could I do? I really wasn't in any shape to walk anywhere yet. "Okay," I said.

"Okay, then," Phillip smiled and, well, I smiled back. "When I first saw you, I wasn't sure you were a girl with what you were wearing then. But you aren't really that much of a tomboy, are you?"

"N-no?"

"Nope." He swung easily onto Roland and took up the reins. "You're dressed like a boy but you wouldn't fool anyone. You're too cute." And he actually chuckled. "I want to see you in a dress--or a swimsuit."

I nearly fell off the log right there.

"I'll be right back, Eden, wait for me," he called as he and Roland started down the path.

I watched him ride away and when he looked back, I waved. Well, Phoebe would have and I had told him I'd be his girlfriend. I certainly hadn't promised to wear a dress, though. But a corner of my mind wondered what I would look like in a bikini.

---

Chapter 7

The Doolittle Effect

How had I gotten into this mess? It started when I stepped on that frog by the fairy rocks. Old King Fritharic was having his froggy revenge, certainly, but what would his queen, Her Tiny Majesty, Tintabelle, do about the current turn of events? If these wishes people were making--they must be part of her 'betrothal gift'--if these wishes turned me into a girl I couldn't marry Tintabelle.

Maybe she'd just give up, she really had no good reason for wanting to marry me in the first place. Fairies seemed to have whims of iron though. And if she did give up, I might be stuck like I was. I gasped at the idea, scared, thrilled, astonished and bewildered all at once.

Why hadn't the magic turned me completely into a girl? I had breasts--they itched--but I still had at least one major part of my male identity. Maybe Molly's wish--she had wished I were a girl so I could visit them anytime--maybe her wish had been defective? After all, she was only four years old. Who else had made a wish?

Mom had wished I were more like Phoebe; that's when I had started acting more like a girl. And I couldn't seem to stop. It had also turned my hair red and my eyes green, sort of.

Phillip had wished I would say yes. Or had he wished I'd be his girlfriend? I shivered. How would the magic treat his wish? Would anything else physical happen to me? Besides the aching I felt inside when I thought about Phillip holding me?

That was three wishes, I realized. Maybe the magic had run out? No, wait, I'd made a wish, too. The one that allowed me to talk to animals when I wished I knew what the dog was thinking.

Wait a minute. I had made a wish; I could make wishes? "I wish I were a boy again," I said aloud. Nothing happened. "I wish none of this had happened!" I stood up. The light didn't change, I didn't hear fairy bells, I didn't feel dizzy and weak. "I wish I'd never stepped on that stupid frog!"

Still nothing happened. I sat down. One wish to a customer, me included, apparently? And I'd wasted mine on a do-little request to understand animals. That wish had done more than I asked and Molly's had done less. Was there any sort of rhyme or reason to this at all?

I felt the tears start running down my face and soon a trickle had turned into a flood. I sat on a log in a big green forest and wept like a little girl. The second time I wiped my face with my sleeve, I decided I'd better head for home. I couldn't sit there waiting for Phillip to get back; he'd see immediately that I'd been crying. I must look a mess.

Mom would see, too, but she had seen me come home crying before. It wasn't anything new. I could even tell her part of the truth; that one of the neighborhood boys had teased me about looking like a girl. I stood up again and right then, I heard hooves.

Not the gentle plop-plop of Roland walking, this was the sound of a running horse. I took a step and peered down the path. It had to be Phillip, and he was galloping his old horse to get back to me quickly. I'd never make it home before he caught up to me, even if I ran.

I admit it. I dithered. One part of me wanted to see Phillip again, and he'd asked me to wait, it would only be polite. And the sound of the running horse excited me, I could feel my heart pounding. My lips felt hot, my nipples--!!!-- tingled and standing there in the path, I felt my thighs clench together in a pleasurable anticipation I didn't want to understand.

Here he came. He would see me standing here in just a moment. I could dive into the bushes and hope he would ride past me. Okay, I didn't do that. Instead, I squealed--like a girl--dashed back over to the log and sat down. Knees together, hands in my lap and I even ran a hand through my hair to fluff it up.

I was smiling when Phillip and Roland came around the turn where they could see me. I waved. "Eden!" Phillip called. I laughed and waved again. None of us saw the deer just before it bolted from the woods right in front of Roland's nose.

The big horse swerved, only the fact that he was running up hill gave him enough stopping power to avoid the collision. Phillip, not using a saddle, didn't stand a chance of staying on Roland's back through such a maneuver.

I screamed.

Phillip fell, rolling onto his shoulders and falling on his back with a loud thump and a yell. Somehow he landed far enough away from Roland to avoid being kicked or stepped on. The big horse crashed into some bushes, bellowing loudly--and cursing in a voice Phillip couldn't hear. I'd never heard a horse curse before but Roland was quite colorfully discussing the habit and ancestry of a certain deer with a few general expressions of disgust and anger spinkled throughout.

I ran toward Phillip, very much afraid that he had broken his neck, but he was waving a hand at me before I reached him. "I'm okay!" he said, gasping a little.

I knelt beside him, afraid to touch him and wondering if I should run to call 911. Did they have 911 in this place? I didn't have a cellphone with me because coverage in these mountains was so spotty they were almost useless.

Somewhere I heard a woman's voice saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The queen made me do it." I looked up to try to find the voice but tears made everything blurry, I had started crying again.

"I'm okay," Phillip said again. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." He moved his feet experimentally, "See? I'm okay."

"I was so scared!"

"Well, I'm okay, don't be scared." He tried to sit up but groaned and lay back down quickly.

"I'm going to go get help!" I told him.

"No, don't!"

"But you're hurt!" I couldn't stop crying but I couldn't leave either because he had grabbed my hand.

"Well, I'm hurting but I don't think I'm really hurt-hurt." He smiled at me, the tiniest smile I'd ever seen.

I smiled back, a little goofily, probably. "You're an idiot."

His smile widened just a little. "Okay, I'm an idiot," he agreed. "Just stay with me for a moment longer. Please?" He squeezed my hand.

I sniffled back my tears and wiped my face on my sleeve again. "Why did you gallop, this isn't a trail for galloping, is it?"

"Uh, well, no. It's too narrow and there's places you can't see far enough ahead. So, okay, I'm an idiot and you can tell me so. I just don't want to hear my mom or my uncle telling me so for several hours."

Roland came over and looked down at him and snorted. The voice only I could hear sounded like Wilford Brimley. "He wanted to impress you."

I glanced at Roland.

"Good boy," said Phillip. "Roland likes a run now and then, don't you, boy? And it's easier for a horse to run uphill than down." It was? I wondered about that but the horse in question distracted me from asking about it.

Roland looked off toward where the deer had disappeared. "Don't blame me." He turned his long brown face toward me. "I've never understood a deer that well before, but did you hear what she said?"

It hadn't occured to me but of course animals didn't normally understand each other. I must radiate a sort of Doolittle effect. I nodded toward the horse and he nodded back. "Something spooked that doe," I said.

"I guess so," Phillip agreed. He tried to sit up again and I helped him. The fall had torn his shirt over his left shoulder and he must have scraped it on the hard ground. The skin looked raw and red there; oozing thick, slow blood.

"You're bleeding a bit," I said. "You need to go home and wash that out." I trembled a bit to think how much that must hurt him.

He sighed. "Give me a minute. I'll need to take Roland home and I can wash up at the stable."

We were very close just then, our faces only inches apart. I thought for a moment that he might try to kiss me and I pulled back abruptly. He groaned. I told him, "I still think I should go get your mom."

"Don't you dare," he said. He got his feet under him and stood up without help. "See? I'm fine."

I looked up at him. His torn shirt hung off his shoulder and I could see the muscles of his chest and upper arm. The scrape was mostly on top of his shoulder and his back. He didn't have the kind of muscles T.C. had been showing off, more lean and bony than meaty. Still, the sight had a strange effect on me.

The Queen had tried to kill him or at least scare him. Or scare me. Well, she'd done that but now I felt angry. It must have showed in my expression.

"What?" he said.

I shook my head. "If you're okay, then, well, I have to be going?"

"You're not mad at me?"

"No, no." I shook my head again.

He smiled. "Still my girlfriend?"

I sighed. "Phillip! I--I...." It had to be the magic, I wanted to be his girlfriend, weird as that still sounded. But it could get him killed; fairy jealousy is a thing of legends. That loomed larger than my questionable gender; I didn't want Phillip to get hurt.

He looked at me solemnly. Those blue eyes were so beautiful; the lashes turned golden in a stray beam of sunlight and I thought my heart would stop. I stepped back, how could I be seeing a boy as being beautiful?

I turned and ran.

"Eden?" He called after me.

I didn't think he could catch me, he must still be hurting after his fall.

"Eden!" he called again. "I'll stop by your house on the way back from taking Roland home!"

I didn't answer, I just ran all the way home, through the redwood gate and onto the glassed-in porch. The weight of the sliding glass door slowed me down and Mom stopped me with a word.

"Ethan?"

I did stop. I didn't look at her or she would see that I had been crying. "Yes, ma'am?" I said.

"Ethan, what's going on?"

"I can't talk about it, Mom."

She got up and started toward me. "You most certainly can talk about it..." she began.

"Just leave me alone!" I dodged past her and ran up the stairs. I don't think I had ever run up stairs before in my life. I ran to my room and threw myself across my bed, sobbing and crying. I didn't know exactly what was wrong--everything!--but it just hurt too much right then.

Mom followed me, of course. She came in quietly and sat on the bed and pulled me close to her. "Mom, please..." I protested.

"Hush," she said. "Finish crying and then you can tell me all about it."

"No, I can't."

"Hush, baby," she said. "You can always tell me about it, I'm your mother." She handed me a wad of tissues she must have grabbed on the way up.

"You wouldn't believe me," I sobbed. I couldn't tell her everything, Frog Kings and Fairy Queens, talking animals, I'd get locked up. I know I cried as if my heart had been broken, I'm not sure why. My mother held me against her and said silly, comforting things. Finally, when I began to run down, she gave me a squeeze and pushed away gently.

"Blow your nose," she ordered, making a face at me.

I blew my nose, discarded that tissue and wiped my eyes with another.

She smiled and pushed my messy hair away from my eyes. "Now tell me about it."

"I don't know what to say?"

"Just begin wherever you're comfortable, and go from there," she suggested. "Contrary to popular opinion, stories do not have to start at the beginning."

What could I tell her? I'd have to say something to explain my outburst or she would never let it rest; she'd be watching me and asking questions until she found out something to satisfy her mother instinct. I'm the baby of the family and I've been sick most of my life, Mom and I were close in ways most boys my age could not imagine.

Most boys.

I felt the tears threaten again, but I caught a glimmer of a way out of confessing to insanity. A painful way, and a difficult one because I didn't dare tell her a blatant lie or even direct evasion. She was my mom, she would know. "I'm so confused," I said. That much was true.

"You're a teenager, comes with the territory," she said, smiling.

I sat right in front of her and she hadn't noticed the change in my hair or eyes. She'd held me in her arms and hadn't felt the difference in the contour of my shape. I found that hard to believe but perhaps she had just been distracted by my weeping.

"Phoebe used to come home crying like that, regularly. Or at least every few months or so," Mom observed when I still hadn't spoken for some time. "Though I don't remember Adam or Sean indulging in such histrionics."

Ouch.

"Talk," she said. "Say something, where did you go, who did you see?"

"Uh, I went out. And there was this boy, he lives in Number Five? His name is Phillip, I met him earlier."

"Uh huh." She nodded encouragingly.

"He's older, he must be sixteen or seventeen. He has a horse, its name is Roland."

"A pony? I always wanted a pony when I was little," Mom said.

I shook my head, "Roland is a big horse. Huge. Um, Phillip offered me a ride and I got up behind him." My lip trembled.

Mom frowned a bit.

"Then...then..." I wiped away tears again.

"Then?"

"Then he asked me for a date! Mom, he thinks I'm a girl!"

"Oh." Mom seemed to be considering this while I fiddled with tissue and wiped my hands.

I got off the bed and went to my dresser where I kept a full box of Kleenex. I stared at myself in the mirror; with my eyes all red and puffy, I looked hideous. I let myself relax into a Phoebe-pose and complained, "Mom, do I look like a girl?"

She didn't deny it. She stared at me, I could see her eyes go wide in the mirror. She had a good view, a three-quarter profile front and back. I noticed that the looseness of two layers of cotton did not completely conceal my altered shape.

She took a breath. "Why would he do that? Ask you for a date? Didn't you tell him you're a boy?"

"I-I tried," I stammered. "He misheard my name. He thought I said, 'Eden'."

"Eden."

"Yeah, it almost sounds like 'Ethan', doesn't it?"

She nodded vaguely. I saw her look at my chest, my butt, the way I stood. She looked me in the eye and I hit her with a soft hammer. "I don't look like a girl, do I, Mom?" I didn't have to make my lip tremble, it did it all by itself. I felt tears leaking out of my eyes again and dabbed at them with the tissue.

"Well," she dodged the question. "Not--not really?"

"Meaning I do!" It did hurt, but at least we weren't discussing talking weasels. Was this really a wise thing to be doing? Who could know, certainly not me. I felt rattled and shaken. Mom really had been my confidant all my life, normally I could tell her anything. "I do look like a girl," I said with my lips trembling.

"Well," she backtracked. "Maybe a little, honey?"

"I don't know what's happening to me!" True enough and almost a relief to tell someone. But in the excitement of the moment, I decided to go further. "I've got to show you something!" I began unbuttoning the shirt; with three buttons undone, I just pulled it off over my head and the t-shirt with it. I threw the cloth toward my desk chair and stared into the mirror.

My little booblets actually looked a bit bigger. The cookie flesh behind my nipples had more shape. I could see Mom's eyes bugging out in the reflection. Suddenly more alarmed than I expected, I examined them with my fingertips. "They keep growing!" The nipples themselves had assumed a pointy, tent-like shape, the whole arrangement looking like candy drops sitting on top of cookies. It occurred to some part of my disorderly mind to wonder how Phillip or T.C. would react to the sight of such confections. And they were excruciatingly sensitive. "Ow!"

Mom suddenly moved, coming over to stand beside me and bending to get a better look. "How long has this been happening?" Her manner had changed from emotionally comforting to medically concerned in a moment.

"I don't know!" I wailed convincingly. "I only noticed just this week! Since we moved!"

"Your chest looks exactly like your sister's did at eleven." Mom bit her lip, reaching toward my chest.

"I'm almost fourteen, Mom! And--and--I'm s-supposed to be a boy!" I tried to move away but she pulled me toward her and gave me a hug, not too tightly but tight enough to get a reaction. "Ow! That hurts! What's happening to me?"

"I don't know," she said in my ear. "I don't know, we'll take you to a doctor."

"Am I turning into a girl, Mom?" I gave her a fiercer hug. "Ow. I feel so strange?"

She patted me on the back then released me. "I don't know that, either. I'm not a medical person. I've heard of such things in my.... But..."

"Talking to Phillip and him thinking I was a girl made me feel...weird?" I said.

"Put your shirt back on." She handed me the t-shirt. "Weird, how?"

I shrugged. I really didn't know how to explain it. "Well, besides confusing, it was also exciting. I knew he really liked me. Boys like, like that--uh, they usually want to beat me up?"

She nodded. Coming home in tears for me had usually involved various contusions, abrasions and lacerations. Once, I got a concussion and a broken wrist from being dumped into a trash bin.

"Put your shirt back on," Mom suggested, handing the t-shirt to me.

I pulled the t-shirt back on and looked at myself in the mirror. I fussed with my hair in Phoebe-fashion while considering this new perspective. What would it be like to be one of the popular kids at school? A popular girl.... The thought scared me and excited me in strange ways.

I turned to Mom. "Am I pretty?" I asked her before I had time to think of what question I might be about to ask.

"I suppose you are," she admitted. "I've always thought you were pretty, but I'm your mother."

I grinned shakily. "Phillip said I was too cute to be a boy, even if I was dressed like one."

"You did look cute," she said. "I told you so, too."

"I know! And Phillip asked me to go to a party with him on Monday, then he hurt himself, showing off." Once the gates were open, I found it hard to stop telling Mom embarrassing things. I just hoped I could avoid mentioning the fairies.

"What?" Mom looked startled.

"He galloped his horse on the trail out there, and--and a deer startled Roland and Phillip fell off and I thought he'd been killed!" All true, and the memory of wide-eyed fright I told it with was also real. "He just scraped his shoulder and tore his shirt, though. He said he'd be okay."

"Well, that's good. I suppose." Mom looked doubtful and confused, she was staring at my chest.

I looked in the mirror again. My little nubbins showed clearly in just the t-shirt. It almost looked indecent. I blushed. "I'mgonnaneedabra!" I wailed.

Mom pulled me close for another hug. "For goodness sake!" she said. "Don't be such a waterworks! Put your other shirt back on; we don't want to give your father a heart attack when he gets home!"

"Yes, ma'am." While I put the shirt on, she got up and started out of the room.

"I'm going to see if I can find a doctor to talk to," she said. "On the Saturday of a three day weekend, probably not, but I have to try."

"Mom."

"What?"

"PhillipiscomingoverlatertotalktoyouandDadabouttakingmetotheparty!"

Mom squeezed her eyes shut. "That's what you were crying about," she said.

I realized that she might be right. I realized also that I wanted to go to the party with him. I took a deep breath and made an effort to speak clearly. "What am I gonna tell him?" I choked out.

"Do you want to go to the party with him?"

"I don't know!" But I did. And Mom knew instantly that I had lied.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "We can always tell him you're too young to be dating?"

"Oh, God!" I sat down on the bed. "I've got to go to school with him later! He's going to find out!"

Mom leaned against the doorframe and rubbed her temples. "I need to talk to the doctor, maybe he can prescribe something. For me."

"I'm sorry, Mom!"

"I don't see anyway this could be your fault, honey. I'd better call your father and prepare him, he's probably on his way home now. And maybe he'll know a doctor, I can't think of anyone closer than UCLA"

I went to my desk. "I'm going to try to look something up on the web."

"Oh, lord. I can just imagine. Anything to do with sex and most of what you'll find on the internet is pornography."

"Well, okay! Then I won't!" My lip trembled again.

"Don't pout. You look just like Phoebe when you pout."

"I do?"

Mom rolled her eyes and headed out.

I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow, and struggling to get my thoughts and emotions in some sort of order. That went well enough, I considered with the last rational shreds of my sanity. But now that I've convinced my mom that I'm turning into a girl, what do I tell her when I get the fairies to change me back?

---

continued in part 4 [Non-Emergency Planning]

Read More [The Fairy King]