I had just slipped one of my sisters dresses on and had gotten it zipped up when I froze in response to hearing a sound. I was supposed to be home alone on this particular Saturday, as Mom and Rachel had gone out to do some shopping for one of Rachel’s friends birthday parties.

“Turn around, let me get a look at you.” I heard mom’s voice from behind me. I slowly turned around, figuring that mom was going to be pissed at me, instead she was smiling. “What’s your name?” This puzzled me.

“I’m Justin.” I said, confused by the question. “Am I in trouble?”

“I know what your boy name is, silly. I meant what is your name when you are wearing your sister’s dress?”

“Oh.” I replied softly, my voice almost a whisper. “Emma Michelle.”

“Ok, Emma. How long have you been dressing up?” Mom asked.

“About three years.” I looked at the floor, hoping that it would swallow me where I stood. I saw mom’s hand reach under my chin and then felt it start to rise as she lifted it up.

“Are you afraid that I’m mad at you?” She asked, crouching down to look into my grey eyes.

“Yes.” I said quietly. Mom reached down to take the brush that I was holding in my right hand. I released my grip as she moved behind me and started brushing my hair.

“Why would I be mad at you, Emma?” Mom asked, running the brush through my blonde locks of hair. This had a comforting effect on me.

“Because I’m dressed up in Rachel’s clothes. Speaking of Rachel, where is she?”

“She’s at Lizzy’s. I dropped her off and then came back here to see if my suspicions were correct. She’s been noticing that things weren’t how she left them.” Mom said, bunching my hair into a bunch on the left side of my head. I saw a white ribbon go that direction. Mom did the same thing on the right side of my head and I saw that another white ribbon head toward that side of my head. Judging by the two bunches, I now sported pigtails. Mom gently spun me around so I could see my self in the mirror. A twelve year old girl looked back at me. Rachel was ten, and I was small for my age. I blinked. Mom was standing behind me smiling. “What do you think, Emma?”

“I…” That was the last thing I remembered.

When I came to, I was in the living room, with Mom rocking me. We were sitting on the couch, and I heard some soft music that I recognized as Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony.

“What happened?” I asked softly. Mom glanced down to see that my eyes had opened.

“Well, I think you fainted. You saw how pretty you were and then it was lights out…” Mom said. I sat up and looked down toward my feet. I was still wearing the baby blue dress and white mary jane’s that I had slipped onto my feet before Mom had startled me. I pinched my arm, wincing in pain. Ok, this isn’t a dream.

“I fainted? I think that’s the first time I’ve ever done that…” I replied.

“It is. How’s your head?”

“It hurts a little bit. Was the girl in the mirror me? That’s the last thing I remember seeing. A cute girl with grey eyes and blonde hair.”

“Yes, Just-“ Mom stopped and looked at me. “Emma. That pretty girl was you. You look just like your sister, only a little older.”

“Can we try the mirror again?” I asked. “I want to get a better look at that little girl.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call her ‘little.’” Mom said with a chuckle. “She may be shorter than other girls her age, but she gets offended if someone calls her little.” I smiled at my mom, she knew me pretty well. One thing I hated was to be called little, but in this case it seemed to fit my current appearance. Mom gently took my hand and led me back upstairs to her room where she had a full length mirror. Mom stopped at the top of the steps. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.” I did as she requested and felt her lead me along the carpeted floor. I figured we were going into her room. “Open your eyes.” Mom whispered in my ear. I did as I was instructed.

“Mom, are you sure that’s me?” I asked. The mouth of the girl in the mirror moved as I spoke. I lifted my right hand and the pretty girl in the mirror lifted her right hand as well. Mom was standing behind me smiling.

“Yes, Emma. That pretty little girl is you.” Mom said.

“I’ve never looked like this when I’ve dressed up by my self. How did you do it?” Mom smiled.

“Trade secret.” Mom said chuckling. “Your sister will be home soon, unless you want her to know about Emma, you need to go get changed and transform your self back into Justin. Bring me the dress and shoes after you change.”

“Umm, Mom, I’m also wearing ah…” I let thought trail off.

“Panties?” Mom finished for me. I nodded. “Give them to me and I’ll take care of them.”

“Ok.” I said, walking into my room to change.

To be continued...