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Part 5

Nothing magnificent could ever be said about a school cafeteria, especially on an ordinary Friday in October. If anyone had the time, patience, or bored curiosity, they could try to pick out each distinctive item on the menu from smell alone. The tables creaked, the silverware clattered, and the multitude of students tried to fill the rest of the room with chatter; in an honest attempt to see which conversation would be king over the air. Our table, on the other hand, had grown unusually quiet.

It had been quiet for the past week, as a matter of fact. One could argue that our conversations had grown dull and lacking of anything fresh, but I more or less thought it was because we didn't want to talk. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that the leaves outside were changing. Whatever the case may be, we had plenty to talk about, but chose not to. It was a rather strange dilemma, which is why I was startled to hear one of the girls actually speak.

"I'm glad you decided to go tonight," Tiffany said.

Her right hand snaked across the lunchroom table, landing on my left hand and covering it completely. In my other hand, I gripped the cafeteria fork lightly. My dark purple nails reflected off of the dull silverware held between my fingers. I had chosen, by my own freewill, to keep painting my nails, and wear them painted to school. It had been nearly two weeks since the first time I had done it, and unfortunately I was still waiting for the day when I could live it down.

It wasn't like I chose ultra feminine colors either. I avoided pinks, and stuck to mostly darker shades of polish; blues, greens, purples and a rich ruby red at one time. While there were a few that accepted it, the majority of my classmates thought it was queer. A lot of them professed this vocally, while others merely hinted at it. Surprisingly all but one kid on my bus had let it go. I figured if I took a stand on this issue, they would all eventually back down.

At home, Tom thought I was reverting back to my old ways, or some nonsense. He didn't interfere with my decision, but I could tell that he disapproved. Frankly, I thought of him as in the same lot as the jerks at school. Jason didn't show much approval either, but then again, I didn't see him much at school anymore. Our little restroom meetings had ended abruptly, and while my other friends thought it was cool of me to be so bold, there was at least one I thought wanted it to be over.

"Why is Danielle sitting over there?" I asked.

I had a hard time trying not to look in her general direction. Over the course of the past week, Danielle had distanced herself from our group. She used to sit next to me every single day, and now she acted disgusted at the thought. Though she claimed it was nothing personal, I felt it had everything to do with all of the attention I was getting. It seemed ironic to think that the gossip queen felt intimidated when she came too close to the gossip.

"I don't know," Tracy said. "She's been avoiding us lately."

"I can't help but think I'm responsible," I said. "You know… with the nails and all." I dipped my fork down into the mashed potatoes on my tray, and continued to pick off bites of them.

"No," Tracy said. "It's just awkward timing is all."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's been like that for awhile now."

"About the second week of school actually," Tracy said. "I'm not too worried though. She's more like a friend of a friend in any respect."

"Oh," I said. "Well I never noticed. I guess I don't know her as well as I thought." I looked over at Danielle. "I wonder what the problem is."

"I think it has something to do with Vanessa," Tiffany said. "They even had a bit of a fight a couple weekends ago."

"Seems like Vanessa is getting on everyone's nerves lately," I said.

"She doesn't really bother me," Tiffany said.

"Does she bother you?" Tracy asked.

"No," I said, looking at Tiffany. I almost flipped a forkful of food at her. "I can't believe you're not bothered by all of her remarks."

Tiffany shrugged. "I've gotten used to her sense of humor."

"If that's what you call it," I said. "Some people call it rudeness."

Tiffany shrugged at my suggestion. "I guess…"

Looking back over at the other table, I noticed Danielle seemed entrenched in the conversation. She did seem happy. Maybe she got bored over here. The girls she sat with were a bit more popular, and in the good way; at least by junior high standards. They were somewhat intellectual, mostly in seventh grade, but a couple of eighth graders sat with them. If you considered the really popular kids were on the A list, the kids Danielle sat with would probably be the A minus or B list.

A small part of me felt jealous that she could just pick up new friends on a whim. I mean she had previous connections to some of them, but I wished I could fit in that well. That's not to say I wasn't thankful for every friend that I had. I loved Tiffany, and really got along well with the other girls. What little of Jason I saw, I kind of liked having him around too. I guess maybe I felt like I had lost another friend, and was scared of losing others.

"So who's all in tonight?" Tracy asked.

"Well…" Tiffany seemed to be contemplating the question deeply. "Tawny and Megan for sure. I know Lynne will be there, along with my sister. You and your sister…"

"Kale too," Tracy said.

"Oh cool!" Tiffany said. "I haven't seen him since… well… you know?"

We all gave each other knowing looks. It felt a little embarrassing to talk about what had happened that day, and I was glad Tiffany said something about it, rather than me. I wasn't exactly nervous talking about the nuances of transgender issues, but at the same time I didn't want to be the spokesperson for the community. Only with Kale, it felt a little confusing to put it mildly. Ever since I saw him dressed in Tiffany's clothing, I had developed a sort of curious crush on him.

"Yeah…" Tracy said. "About that." She glanced back and forth between us. "Look, don't get all freaked out if he…"

"He what?" Tiffany asked.

"He's been acting strange ever since that happened," Tracy said, sighing a bit. "Don't be surprised if he shows up in a dress."

I almost choked on a green bean.

"What?" Tiffany asked, before I could muster the question.

"I've caught him in my things a few times," Tracy said. "I didn't say anything to my parents, because I think he's just curious. He seemed really embarrassed when I found out. I think it's just a phase with him." She paused. "Not like you, Bailey."

"Not like me?" I asked, taking a rather large gulp of milk afterwards.

"Well… I mean," Tracy stammered as she looked at me. "You're seeing a professional."

"Only because that was the deal I made with Tom," I said. "I don't think the guy is doing much for me to be honest."

"You seem more comfortable with it now," Tracy said. She gestured at my fingernails.

"I'm doing this," I said, holding my hand up with the back facing her. "To show I'm not afraid of what people think, and to make it clear that I won't be bullied into stopping something because it's not considered 'normal' to others."

Tracy stared at me with a blank expression.

"Well I think it's awesome," Tiffany said, pulling my hand down into hers.

"I'm sorry," I said to Tracy. "I'm just tired of people telling me what to do."

"You're obviously mad at something," Tracy said. "But I don't think it's me."

"No," I said. "I'm not mad at you. I'm really not mad at all. It's just…" I glanced around at the different tables. "Don't you wish you could get up everyday and not have to worry about fitting in?"

"Believe me," Tracy said, her eyes growing slightly bigger. "I would kill for that."

"Same," Tiffany said.

"I just wish I could go to school, the mall, or whatever, as myself," I said. "I'm tired of people trying to label me."

"I'm tired of worrying everyday about which outfit will make me look skinnier," Tracy said. "I just feel like everyone focuses on me that way."

"Well I don't," I said. "Neither does Jason."

"Really?" Tracy asked. "Because I've been stressing myself out to look perfect for him."

"He likes you just the way you are," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I do too."

"Same," Tiffany said, like she was in the background of our conversation.

"Thanks you two." Tracy smiled. "What about you?" she asked Tiffany.

"Me?" Tiffany asked. "Oh it's nothing really."

"Come on!" I said.

"Nothing?" Tracy asked.

The bell rang, signaling the end of our lunch. Tiffany seemed all to eager to get away from our lunch table. She acted like she had to be the first one out of the cafeteria. Tracy and I looked at each other for a moment, and then hurried to get up and chase after her. No matter what we tried, we couldn't hardly get another word out of Tiffany. I gave up and just walked with her back to class. Tracy split from us to go see Jason between lunch periods.

"What was that about?" I asked, wandering with Tiffany to the edge of the busy hallway.

"Nothing," Tiffany said. "I'll tell you tonight."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Tiffany said, giving me a smile.

We shared our usual kiss before parting ways. When most of the kids saw I was still kissing Tiffany, and noticed we were together, some of them gave up on the whole "Bailey is queer" bit. Word got around about it, and the students who were reluctant to give up the teasing just labeled me as a freak. Still, there were a lot of students who were far less easier to please. Those were the ones who never gave up. They never stopped with the jokes or crude innuendos.

I watched Tiffany disappear toward her homeroom. After a brief moment, I stepped into the crowd flowing up and down the hall. As I tried my best to weave in and out between the students, I felt someone tap my shoulder from behind. When I turned to see who had done it, I felt a blunt strike on the leg on which most of my weight was supported. My knee buckled. As I fell backwards, another blow came to the back of my other shoulder, like someone had slammed into me with their own shoulder.

This time the perpetrators were bolder. They stood around and laughed, giving each other high fives, as I pushed myself up off of the floor. Luckily I had managed not to meet the floor with my face. I forced myself to stand, while studying the faces of the three boys. Unfortunately I didn't know a single one of them. They weren't in any of my classes, and the other students around weren't that helpful. Most of them walked by shaking their heads with half-smiles that said "what a dork," like I had tripped or something.

Two of the kids had short blonde hair, and were about my size. They probably felt a bit bigger now after making me look small. The third had a darker complexion, Mexican from what I could tell, with slick black hair. He stood a good half foot taller than the other two, and seemed to have the meanest disposition out of the three. Eventually all three of the boys slipped into the crowd of students, and disappeared.

I stood, looking over my attire, to see if anything seemed out of place, or in disrepair. Nothing seemed injured, except my pride. What probably hurt more than anything, was the fact nobody helped me up. They all had better things to do, like walking by and giving me strange looks. After straightening myself, and checking to see if I had another blindside coming, I pulled myself into homeroom and took my seat.

The small skirmish left me feeling a bit insecure, but nothing hurt or appeared bruised or broken. This time was unlike the last, where I had to care for a cut for several days to make sure it didn't scar. My mother panicked, bombarding me with the usual questions on how I got a cut on my forehead. I wanted to avoid her, or even worse Tom, getting in on the situation. So I lied right to my mother's face. I told her I tripped and fell into a locker.

Though I couldn't be sure of it, I bet they both thought I wasn't telling them the whole story. Recently my stories had gotten less complete. I lied about a few things in my stories, left out details in others, and flat out disregarded telling some stories completely to my mother and Tom. I guess I thought the more I let them in, the more they would want to know. Perhaps they would start babying me like when I was younger. It almost felt like my "disorder" caused everyone to pull me back to the starting line and deal with me like I were a new person.

It all felt odd; almost as odd as one of the boys now staring at me in homeroom. I didn't know him, but I remembered him sitting near Danielle at lunch. He didn't give me any strange looks, but rather just stared; out of interest or curiosity perhaps. I shied away from the eye contact. Something about him made me feel uneasy. Although the uneasy feeling might have been runoff from what had occurred in the hallway, I just wanted him to stop.

The bell made him stop. Unfortunately, the bell didn't make my mind stop conjuring up reasons why he would be staring at me in the first place. Did Danielle say something about me? I could see the little gossip queen divulging information to other kids asking why I did girly things. It wasn't farfetched at all. In fact, I would consider it the best way for her to get in with other crowds after being in ours.

Of course, Danielle could have been far from the reason this boy stared at me. Maybe Jason told him to keep an eye on me, or something like that. Why would Jason all of a sudden be my bodyguard though? Just because we were somewhat friends, didn't make my safety an obligation for him. I doubted he even cared enough to have other students keep a lookout on me. That seemed a lot sillier than the option of Danielle.

Maybe nobody had a part in it. Perhaps this kid found some kind of intrigue with me? I sneaked a look at him, making sure he didn't see me. He wasn't extremely cute, yet wasn't at all ugly. With a short mop of blonde hair, a nice face that hadn't lost its baby fat yet, and light brown eyes that showed a lot of soul; I would have rated him as mildly handsome. Surely he could do much better than me, if he was at all interested in the first place. I changed my focus as the teacher stood to get the attention of the class.

I don't know why, but I looked forward to art class that day more than any other day since school started. The rest of the day, since lunch, had been uneventful. Though I thought a little bit about the boy who had been staring at me in homeroom, by sixth hour it didn't seem to matter anymore. Now, in art class, I didn't even think to mention it to the other girls. They probably would have known who the boy was, but I let him slip from my mind.

"Did Danielle say anything to you today?" Vanessa asked, grabbing my right wrist before I could even sit down.

"I haven't talked to her since Tuesday," I said.

"Oh…" Vanessa said, still holding onto my wrist.

Oddly enough, Vanessa had been the first one in class. She never got to class early. In fact, she usually came in as one of the last to class. That wasn't the strangest thing by any stretch. Vanessa also looked extremely worried, like she had been waiting for bad news all day. When she let my wrist slip from her hand, I managed to catch her hand in mine. Her coffee brown eyes looked up into mine with surprise.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

"No…" Vanessa said, shaking her head slowly to emphasize her answer.

I took my seat, keeping her hand in mine. "What's wrong?"

"None of my friends will…" Vanessa glanced away, and then quickly back to me. "With the exception of you, Megan, Rachel and the three T's, nobody will talk to me."

"What did you do to them?" I asked, assuming Vanessa had done her bitchy best to distance herself from her other friends.

"Nothing," Vanessa said. "I think Danielle said, or is saying stuff about me."

"I was thinking the same thing at lunch, only about me," I said. "What could she possibly have on you?"

"I…" Vanessa looked around. "I can't talk about it here," she said. "Just… if you hear anything…" She gazed right into my eyes. "Don't think any less of me, okay?"

"That's really not all that hard," Tawny said, coming up behind Vanessa.

"Sadly…" Vanessa said, turning to Tawny. "I'd take your snide remarks over silence."

Tawny shook her head at Vanessa. "You still on that?" she asked, sitting down. "Look… anyone who actually cares about you, hasn't gone anywhere. So screw the rest of them."

I looked over to see Tiffany talking to a boy at another table. Only they weren't just talking, but Tiffany seemed overly friendly with him. She reached out and touched his tan arm a few times, and giggled at some of his remarks. He said something, and then reached up and took a strand of his short and curly blonde hair in his fingers. Tiffany responded favorably and smiled as she combed through the same area the boy had shown her. She was flirting with him!

"Right Bailey?" Tawny said, a bit louder to get my attention.

I turned and gawked at Tawny. She had this impatient look, like she didn't want to repeat the question. Vanessa looked at me as well. Her look was one of pure anticipation for the answer. I noticed I still had her hand in mine, so I gripped it tighter. After giving her hand a little shake, and looking as sincerely as I could into Vanessa's eyes, I gave her a reassuring smile. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tiffany walking away from the boy.

"Definitely," I said, giving Vanessa another smile. Vanessa seemed encouraged and elated by the answer, and moved to work on her art project. I got Tawny's attention and motioned toward the boy Tiffany had been talking with at the other table. "Who is that boy over there?"

"Vince Simmons," Tawny said. "No relation. I just know his name from role call in homeroom." She paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between me and the boy. "He's kinda cute. You interested?"

"What?!" I sat back in my chair and glared at Tawny. "No!"

"Defensive," Tawny said. "Interesting…"

"I find it interesting that Tiffany was flirting with him," I said.

"Really?" Tawny asked. "That's what you think?"

"Yes," I said. "The whole time we were talking."

"You should ask her about him," Tawny said. "Just not right now."

"Here she comes," I said in a lowered voice.

Tiffany slid into her seat right as the bell rang. She flashed me a smile, which I reluctantly returned, and then went right to work on her art project. It bugged me a little that she casually ignored the scene which had just occurred moments ago. Then again, if there was nothing there, she wouldn't have had anything to say about it. Still, my girlfriend talking to another boy felt so wrong. I felt the same as I had when she flirted with Kevin at the roller rink.

I watched Tiffany for a few moments. She worked on her project like the art had taken her prisoner. Once she fell into its grip, she couldn't escape from her art. Tawny was right. This wasn't the right time to bring this up. Tiffany would only partially be involved in the conversation, while the majority of her would be longing to get back to her artwork. That only begged the question of when to bring it up.

If I waited too long, Tiffany would think it perfectly alright to keep flirting with him and other boys as well. I would continue to slip into the back of her mind as simply one of the girls. Lately I hadn't really played the part of her "boyfriend", leaving room for this indecent action to take place. My absence of portraying anything "manly", coupled with the new onslaught of teasing by my peers, perhaps gave other boys the incentive to seek Tiffany out. Maybe it really wasn't her fault, but mine.

On the other hand, I couldn't be too hasty with this either. If it was harmless flirting, or even an innocent conversation, I would just end up getting Tiffany mad at me. That was something I didn't need at the moment. I had enough to worry about without dealing with an irate girlfriend. It would definitely be my fault if I blew this out of proportion. Either way I looked at the situation, it felt like it was my fault. That made me feel even worse.

My focus turned back to my own artwork. Maybe Tiffany felt betrayed that I went with Tawny's suggestion to be her partner for this project. While it was true that I partnered up with Tiffany on almost everything, that's usually what couples do. Had I somehow given some absent-minded tell that I had moved on? Was partnering with Tawny a subconscious indication that I wanted more? All of this psycho babble, brought on by Rajan and others over-analyzing me, had my mind thinking in circles.

That was it! I wasn't thinking clearly. Tiffany and I loved each other. Surely she wouldn't read that much into me choosing another partner. I had to be willing enough not to read too much into her harmless talks with other boys. After all, she claimed to be a lesbian. Why would she be chasing after other boys? What I really had to look out for, was when she started flirting with other girls. That would be a sign that it was all coming to an end.

I moved my right hand. The pencil clenched between my fingers began to streak lines of charcoal gray across the paper. Before long my other hand jumped in, swabbing the streaks of gray with a q-tip. Tawny's eyes were really starting to come to life. I had managed to give them depth, a hard thing to do with a two dimensional shading project. They would never be as beautiful as her real eyes, but I tried hard to make them stand out in my picture.

As I continued to work, I felt an uneasy, but steady calm come over me. If anything, my mind would be relaxed for the next thirty minutes or so. I had too many things to think about. Most of my thoughts hung on questions I would ask Tiffany. Then there were other important questions. Questions like: "What would I wear tonight?" or "Would I have enough time to do my hair before the girls arrived?" All I could do was count the hours until tonight.

Late October could be felt upon every inch of my bare skin. The night had brought with it a chilling breeze, and I felt horribly underdressed. Granted the only skin I bared happened to be my hands and face, but I had chosen clothing too lightweight for the evening. My knees were perpetually within five seconds of knocking together, when I stood still in my purple pantyhose. I should have worn tights, or even jeans tonight, but I hadn't expected the temperature to drop so rapidly.

At least my lower legs were warm, encased snugly by the brown boots I got from my night working at 'Tweens. I wanted to wear the leather skirt with them at first, but I was scared of getting it ruined. So I settled on a jean skirt, frayed a bit at the bottom, that didn't cover nearly enough of my legs. From the bottom of the skirt, to the top of my boots, it felt like those ten inches or so were pure ice.

The top half of my ensemble was a bit warmer. By my mother's advice, I wore a white long-sleeve bodysuit under the purple-toned plaid, flannel shirt I had thought about wearing solo. After I left the house, Kate had helped my shirt selection look a bit more feminine by rolling the sleeves up tight, and loosening a few buttons. It looked feminine, but it also took a layer away from my forearms. The outfit was the best I could come up with for a fall harvest festival. Most people tried to come out dressed in some kind of country theme.

Vendor stalls lined Main Street. The local farmers' market came out to this event every year. They peddled everything from kettle corn to homemade arts and crafts. Growing up in a somewhat large town, it was always nice to see a little bit of the rural life grace our town for a weekend. Something could be found for everyone, including the usual medley of carnival games that sneaked into the affair. To me, this festival was just good clean fun.

While my friends scattered about, most of them flocking to craft tables, I headed hard and fast to the first booth selling something to warm my chilled body up. The first thing I found happened to be hot, homemade apple cider. I couldn't wait to wrap my hands around the cup. Even the Styrofoam was warm. I took a few cautious sips, and looked around the rest of Main Street. Apparently I had gotten away from my friends, and couldn't find any of them in the crowd.

"Bailey?"

I turned slowly toward the male voice I heard. It sounded familiar, but it wasn't Nathan or Justin. I would have recognized Jason's voice, or even Kevin's, but it wasn't them either. A little part of my mind said it could be trouble, but I had already started to turn. I had acknowledged that I responded to that name, and now I couldn't retract from it. When I saw who had said my name, I groaned on the inside. It was trouble after all.

"I see you couldn't wait to wear those boots."

"Hi Dylan," I said, managing to remember his name at the last second.

"You look nice," Dylan said, his smile leaving his lips, but remaining in his brown eyes.

My eyes traced over Dylan's attire for a brief moment. He had on baggy jeans and black Doc Martin's. The only trace of anything country-related on him happened to be the rust and burgundy plaid flannel shirt, opened over an old worn out black t-shirt with "Nirvana" across the chest. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't wear preppy clothes all the time. I guess he only did that for appearances to work for 'Tweens. Personally, I liked him better in his preppy outfit.

"You look… comfortable," I said, with a sly grin, "and warm."

"Are you cold?" Dylan asked.

"I'm okay now," I said, holding up the cup of cider for emphasis.

We both noticed the older lady at the cider booth giving us a smile like she was witnessing a love connection. Dylan made the first move, and gestured for me to walk with him. Truth be told, I was still freezing, but I remembered what Tiffany had said about boys. Any little thing I might do could seem like flirting to them, so I wanted to be careful. I definitely didn't want to give Dylan the wrong impression about me. The last thing I wanted was for him to offer to warm me up.

"Sorry we didn't get to talk much the other night," Dylan said. "Your friend Vanessa sort of took over the conversation."

"She does that," I said, trying to keep the unusually slow pace Dylan had set for our walk. "What do you think of her?"

"Vanessa?" Dylan asked, like he had forgotten who we were talking about. "She's okay. Not really my type though."

"What is your type?" I asked, taking a sip from my cider.

"I don't know," Dylan said. "Maybe a bit more sincere?"

I actually had to chuckle a bit at Dylan's remark. "You don't think she was being sincere?"

"Not really," Dylan said. "I think she was just talking to me, because she's one of those girls that's programmed to talk to boys." He looked around at the booths. "You know… just for the hell of it."

"You probably know her a lot better than I do," I said. "I thought you two were hitting it off though."

"No, not really," Dylan said, looking back at me. "She comes on too strong."

"Kind of like you did the other night?" I asked.

"Did I?" Dylan asked. "If I did, I apologize. I told you I get nervous around pretty girls."

"Yes," I said. "I remember. You said you talk a lot when you're nervous too."

"You remembered that?" Dylan asked.

"Well…" I looked around. "To be honest, you made an unusual first impression, and you were distracting me."

"I like honesty like that!" Dylan said. "Not that fake sitcom crap where everything ends in hugs. It's refreshing." Dylan stopped walking for a moment. "Hopefully I wasn't a horrible distraction."

"So you just prefer cheesy one-liners that instigate further conversation?" I asked, smiling smugly at him.

"Point to you," Dylan said.

I found myself giggling a bit along with his slight chuckle. "No…" I said.

"No?"

"No, you weren't horrible," I said. "I swear you were going to screw up that job somehow though."

"I would've made it up to you," Dylan said. "You're a nice girl." He started walking again. "Nice, and honest."

Inwardly I felt remorse at having heard that. I was far from honest with Dylan. He didn't even know what gender I really was, let alone what I was really like. Sadly, even if I did like the guy, I couldn't let anything happen beyond friendship. I couldn't tell him now, and would end up keeping it from him for as long as possible. Eventually my little avoided truth would come up, and I don't think he would take it with stride so far into a relationship. Why even put him through all of that?

"So… do you go to school here?" I asked.

"Henley," Dylan said. "You?"

"Prescott," I lied. "I mean… I will be." I paused for a moment, afraid to say the next few words. "In a couple of years."

"Oh…" Dylan said.

I lowered my cup of cider from another sip. "That didn't sound like a good 'oh' to me."

"I just thought you were older," Dylan said. "A freshman like me, or same grade as Jillian."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said.

"It would take a lot more than age difference to disappoint me," Dylan said. "It's too bad though."

"Why's that?"

"Well…" Dylan said. "I was thinking of asking you out." He sighed. "Your parents probably don't let you date yet do they?"

"Afraid not," I managed to choke out, relieved Dylan had given me an excuse to use before I could think of one.

"Maybe I'll see you at 'Tweens then," Dylan said, "or around the mall even."

"Perhaps," I said.

I took a moment to look around the busy street, allowing Dylan the opportunity to exit the conversation gracefully. Across the street, mixed up in a lively game of tossing rings at bottles, were Tiffany, Vanessa and Tracy. Rebecca stood at the next booth, with a girl I recognized from the pool party, and Kale tagging along, tugging at his sister's jacket. It seemed to be annoying Rebecca to no end, and I couldn't help but smile at the situation. Dylan must have read my smile as something else entirely.

"I guess I'll see you around then," Dylan said. "Was nice talking to you again, pretty lady."

"Yes it was," I said. "I mean… same to you."

Dylan raised his hand halfway into a nervous wave goodbye. I took my left hand off of my cup of cider just long enough to return the wave. Before another word passed between us, Dylan had turned and taken off down Main Street. My eyes stayed on him for a moment, until Tiffany's all too familiar excited voice pulled my focus back to the other side of the street. I turned just in time to see her wrapping her arms around Vince in a friendly hug.

If nothing else warmed me up, the small streak of rage running up my spine did the trick for a few moments. I waited until Tiffany broke the hug, and then stormed across the street. By the time I made it over to them, Vanessa and Tracy had moved on, and Tiffany and Vince were knee deep in conversation. The closer I got to them, the more I felt like interrupting the conversation with my fist in Vince's face.

"Hey!" Tiffany said, as she saw me approaching. "Here she is now." She stepped over to put her arms around me. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She talked over her shoulder to Vince. "My best friend Bailey."

Vince looked me over. "Ah… Bailey of course," he said, extending his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I asked, more confrontational than surprised.

"Tiffany talks about you all the time," Vince said. "Well…" He gave Tiffany a knowing smile. "Not all the time."

I reached out my hand, prepared to shake Vince's hand. Instead, I found my hand being swept up in his and very quickly moved to his mouth. In no time flat he had his lips pressed against my bare skin, and stamped the back of my hand with a kiss. It felt strange to me. All in one single moment, it felt flattering, and revolting, and I wanted to wipe the back of my hand on his shirt. As I pulled my hand away, I noticed Vince taking notice of my nail polish.

"Nice color," Vince said.

"Thanks," I said.

My mind instantly withdrew its objection to the impromptu make out session Vince had had with my hand, and moved on to something else entirely. He made absolutely no indication that he recognized me. We were in the same art class together, and I sat by Tiffany every day. Surely Vince could deduce who I was, and that I happened to be Tiffany's boyfriend, and not her best girl friend. Either that, or he wasn't as smart as he presumed to be.

"It's actually nice to meet you in person," Vince said. "All I've heard so far are a few short stories Tiffany has told me."

"Oh…" I gave Tiffany a sideways glance. "Like what?"

"Just how you two met," Vince said. "How she feels when she's around you. That sort of thing."

"That sort of thing…" I now looked at Tiffany with a hint of betrayal in my expression.

"We were just about to go on the hayride," Vince said. "Would you like to join us?"

"Actually…" Tiffany said, bursting into the conversation. "I kind of wanted to talk to you alone Vince." She looked at me with a little hesitation and concern. "About what you said the other night… on the phone."

"Oh… that…" Vince said. "I guess we could find a place more private." He looked around the busy street. "If that's alright with Bailey?"

"I'm sure she won't mind," Tiffany said. She stepped over to Vince, and then turned back to me. "We won't be long. Promise."

Vince gave me a curious look. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I managed to get out in a shaky voice.

"She's probably just cold," Tiffany said, giving me another odd look.

"Actually…" I tried to think up the most insulting thing I could say to Vince at the moment, but nothing came out. The pair looked at me, expecting me to say something.

"You wanted to say something?" Vince finally asked.

Before I could speak, before I could react, I felt someone hook an arm around my left arm. Then almost immediately after, I had an arm around my right arm. I nearly spilled my cider, and my head whipped back and forth to see Megan on one side, and Tawny on the other. Tiffany gave me a pleasant smile, and then slipped her arm around Vince's arm. The two of them hesitated to move for a moment, and I saw my chance to say something get smaller and smaller. When I opened my mouth to protest, I heard another voice instead.

"Bailey you have got to see this!" Megan said.

"But I was just…" I managed to stammer out, as Tiffany and Vince waved, smiled, and walked away from me.

"Before you have a meltdown and cause a scene," Tawny whispered in my ear, as she and Megan dragged me away from the immediate area.

"Can this wait?" I asked.

The two girls shook their heads as they walked me down the street. We eventually stopped and stood, still arm in arm, in a rather secluded area away from the main festival. The few people who passed by were apparently too old to care what three twelve-year-old girls had to discuss. I glanced around. For some reason I actually expected to be shown something. Instead, all I got to see was Tiffany walking toward a booth on the far end of Main Street, her arm now wrapped around Vince's arm.

"What did you want to show me?" I asked, still not catching on.

"That was brutal," Tawny said. "You almost blew it there."

"A few more seconds…" Megan glanced around, and then back at me. "I think your male rage would've taken over."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I can see it in your eyes," Tawny said. "I could hear it in your voice. The disdain. The jealousy."

"You were two seconds short of throwing a jealous fit," Megan said.

"And worse…" Tawny said. "You would've shown yourself as Bailey B, when you're dressed as Bailey G."

"Testosterone overload," Megan said.

I stared longingly at Tiffany and Vince. Megan and Tawny were right. I wasn't only jealous, but I was mad as hell. Who did this guy think he was? Vince… Maybe I wasn't a fighter, but I really felt like punching his lights out. The fact that Tawny and Megan had stopped me, made me feel even worse. It felt like I couldn't even defend my honor, and instead had to retreat with the girls to the sidelines and watch.

"Who the hell is that jerk?" I asked. "And what is Tiffany…" I groaned, worming myself away from the two girls. "Why is she?" I looked down the street. "With him?"

"Calm down," Megan said, putting her hand on my arm.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well it doesn't look like nothing," I said.

"Look…" Tawny said. "You really do need to talk to her about Vince, but you can't do it like this."

"Like what?" I asked. "Jealous boyfriend?"

"Just relax," Megan said, glancing around the street.

"How can I relax?" I asked rhetorically. "My girlfriend is over there with some other boy." I took a staggered breath of cool air. "She's done this before. Who knows how many times, and with what other boys? I don't know if I can trust her." I looked at Tawny. "It's not like I go off and kiss other girls."

"Maybe you should," Tawny said, letting a bit of cynicism creep into her voice.

"Tawny…" Megan's sweet voice, riding upon the slightest hint of being part Korean, had grown reserved and sincere. "Could I talk to Bailey alone?"

"It's a free country," Tawny said. "I'll go bob for apples or something."

Tawny flashed me a smile, and strolled off in the other direction. Megan's right hand slipped into my left. It took me a moment to pull my mind away from what had occurred; at least long enough to stroll a few steps with Megan. My cider had cooled to only slightly warm by then, and I finished most of it before tossing it into a trashcan. Somehow Megan's hand felt warm on this chilly night. In fact her whole demeanor felt warm and inviting.

We walked for a few minutes in silence. Before long the cheering crowds and the other festival sounds drifted into the background, and our footsteps were all that remained. I could no longer smell the homemade breads or candles; only small hints of Megan's perfume hitching rides on the weak gusts of cold October air. The paltry remains of cider left on my tongue had me longing for more. Eventually we stumbled upon a park bench outside of a small barbershop, and we sat together.

"I know our circumstances may not be the same," Megan said, "but I know what you're going through."

"You do?" I asked.

Megan reached out her small hand, and let it rest upon my knee, which I had instinctively crossed over my other knee. "You feel as if you're hanging over a large empty space, about to fall at any moment." Her head dropped. "You have to fall eventually, but any place you could fall may end up hurting yourself or someone you love." She looked back up into my eyes. "You feel like you have to be miserable to make everyone else happy."

"How long did you feel that way?" I asked.

"I still do from time to time," Megan said. "Sometimes it's a struggle to push past it."

"But you do push past it?" I asked.

"Most of the time," Megan said. "There are times I think things would be better if I wasn't the way I was, or had the problems I have." She pulled her hand back to her own lap. "Perhaps I would fit in better."

"You seem to fit in pretty well," I said. "At least that's how I see it."

"But you don't see me all of the time," Megan said. "The other girls…" She sighed. "They can be cruel sometimes."

"What about Rachel and the others?" I asked. "You're pretty popular at school."

"Rachel helped me," Megan said. "She's stood up for me a few times, and helped me try to stand up for myself." She looked up and smiled at me. "I always though that you're supposed to find your friends. Seek them out. That sort of thing. Instead, what I've learned, most of the time, is that good friends find you." She gazed across the street at the empty storefronts. "Those are the friends you hold onto. They're usually the ones that will be there to help you through the storms in your life."

"You've grown a lot," I said, showing a half-smile.

"I guess you could say I've been through a lot," Megan said. "You on the other hand…" She looked into my eyes. "I think most of your journey is in front of you." Her hand moved to my shoulder. "It may be a curse to you, but you get to choose which path you take. I wasn't as lucky."

"You mean you were born this way?" I asked.

"We're all born a certain way," Megan said. "If you're asking was I born a girl… the answer is no." She took her hand away, and looked past me down the street. "I was born male in every technical sense of the word, but my… parts of me… certain things didn't work."

"Oh…" I said, immediately realizing what she meant. "I'm sorry."

"No," Megan said. "Don't feel sorry for me." She gave me a subtle smile. "I'm happy with who I am, or who I eventually will be." Her smile dropped. "You see… those times I think I might be better off without all of my problems, I just remember something." She found my hand with hers, and wormed her fingers around mine. "Those problems… what everyone sees as being 'wrong' with me… those are the things that make me unique."

I smiled, and dropped my head. "It's kind of funny."

"What is?" Megan asked.

"You just reminded me of something a friend said the other night," I said.

"What was that?" Megan asked.

"Oh, something about being myself," I said. "Everyone keeps saying I should find out what's unique about myself."

"Well it's good advice," Megan said. "I'm not going to be one to tell you that you need to find yourself, but I can tell you this." She looked me right in the eyes. "When you do, it's the best feeling ever."

"I wish I knew where to start," I said.

"I think you already have," Megan said.

"I have?"

"Remember our talk at the end of summer?" Megan asked. "When you told me to put myself out there more?"

"Yes," I said. "You certainly did."

"Well," Megan said. "Not right away." Her grip tightened a bit on my hand, reminding me we were still holding hands. "But I thought about what you said that entire night. Then I thought about it the next day, and that day turned into a week." She took a deep breath. "My parents said they wanted to move elsewhere, get me 'fixed', and start me in a new school where I would be better adjusted…" Megan sighed. "I didn't want it. I also realized I just couldn't sit there. I put my foot down."

"Really?" I asked, remembering how she mentioned her parents' philosophy on kids; seen and not heard.

"I'm not broken," Megan said, holding back some pain in her voice. "It hurt for me to say some of the things I said to my parents that day. I'm sure it hurt them to see their child show disrespect. That's the way they made their lives." She paused to glance sideways at the street, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want to just disappear, or slip into the background of another school. They agreed to give me time to adjust. So I started putting myself out there, and it worked for me." She pulled at my hand. "You need to find what works for you."

"I'm just afraid of losing something, or someone…" I said, thinking mostly about Tiffany.

"Maybe you have to lose something you think is dear to you, to find out what truly is dear to you," Megan said.

"Seriously…" I said. "I'm going to have to start calling you fortune cookie."

I flashed Megan a smile, and she returned one of her own. Then the cold took hold of me and I shivered for a moment. Megan slid closer to me, and let her head come to rest on my shoulder. Her hand stayed in mine, and it was beginning to warm mine up a bit. I let my cheek rest on her head. The mixture of coconut and honey permeated my nostrils, rising from her soft silky hair.

Megan smelled good, and felt good. I wondered if my own concoction of soft fragrances drove Nathan as crazy, the other night, as Megan did to me at that moment. If so, I would have to apologize to him profusely, and beg to make it up to him. I tried hard to keep my eyes open, afraid of losing myself in the moment. It was merely a show of friendship Megan offered me, nothing more, and I had to maintain that friendship with her.

"Keeping each other warm?"

We both looked up at Tawny. Her sarcasm managed to sneak into even the honest of questions and moments. She watched us for a moment, and then she grew a smile from ear to ear. In no time at all, Tawny had moved to my right side, and sat on the bench next to me. She pushed herself right up against me, and took my other free hand in both of hers. Megan, as calm as ever, put her head back down on my shoulder. Before I could think of an explanation, or deal with the intrusion, Tawny added to her statement.

"I'm freezing!"

"I told you to bring a jacket," Megan said. "You never listen to me."

"You didn't bring one either," Tawny said.

"I'm wearing layers," Megan said. "Layers or a jacket. You should've worn that cute hoodie I like." Her body heaved, overwhelmed in a feigned sigh. "Never listen. You could catch a cold you know."

"Whatever," Tawny said, blowing out a quick breath in exasperation. "You sound like my mother."

"Well your mother's a smart lady," Megan said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I giggled at the two of them. "You sound like a married couple."

"I swear we are sometimes," Megan said.

"So how are my two favorite girls?" Tawny asked.

"I think we're okay now," Megan said, moving her head to look at me. "Aren't we?"

"I feel a little better," I said. "But…"

"You should talk to Tiffany," Megan said, reading my mind. "Ask her about Vince."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "They are probably just good friends."

"She never mentioned him before," I said.

"Well then nothing was worth mentioning," Tawny said.

I sat and thought about this for a moment. Tawny had a good point. If the guy was really important to Tiffany, then she wouldn't have kept that from me. Then again, I didn't tell Tiffany everything going on in my life. I guess she was entitled to secrets. She certainly allowed me to have some of my own. In fact, she never asked about any of my conversations with Rajan or even Nathan for that matter. I decided to let Tiffany make up her own mind if or when she would tell me about Vince, and moved on to other pressing issues.

"So what's the deal with Danielle and Vanessa?" I asked.

"Oh," Tawny said. "Now that's something to talk about."

"That's right," Megan said. "You weren't there that night."

"We were all out at the movies," Tawny said. "And you know that guy Danielle was talking to at the roller rink?"

"The Nick Carter wannabe?" I asked.

"Yeah him," Tawny said, chuckling a bit at my remark. "Well she really liked him, and was talking about how she wanted to go out with him, and so on and so on." She took a breath. "Anyway… Vanessa didn't know, so we can't really blame her for that, but she made a move on the guy." Her green eyes rolled up to the sky, as she raised her hand to about neck level. "And I do mean she made a move."

"She was all over the guy," Megan said.

"But like I said," Tawny said. "Vanessa didn't know Danielle liked him."

"So when Danielle found out," Megan said, picking up the story. "She confronted Vanessa about it, and they got into a huge argument."

"They were about three few seconds away from going at each others' throats," Tawny said. "Rachel broke it up… sort of."

"Right in the middle of the lobby at the movie theater," Megan said. "Both of them going at it."

"Well we weren't really in the mood for another movie," Tawny said. "At least I wasn't."

"You never are," I said, giving her a smile. "You just like to instigate them."

"You know me," Tawny said. "As much as I like messing with Vanessa, I didn't really care for the way Danielle was treating her."

"Even though she did go after the guy Danielle was interested in," Megan said, "I didn't think it was right either."

"Well she started bringing up old drama about Vanessa," Tawny said. "I mean right in front of people in the lobby. Most of it was stuff that happened in elementary school."

"Like she'd been saving it up all of those years," Megan said. "Vanessa just stood there and took it for awhile. All of those secrets they had and stuff she thought Vanessa did behind her back to cause her to lose friends."

"Anyway," Tawny said. "In an attempt to restore sanity, I tried to calm Danielle down." She let a sigh escape her soft lips. "She thought I was taking Vanessa's side, and started insulting me. I insulted her. Things got out of hand."

"And she eventually told Tawny to shut up and go make out with her lesbian plaything," Megan said. "Pointing me out for all of the people in the lobby."

"I almost took a swing at her for that," Tawny said, lowering her head. "Instead, Rachel stepped in, bringing up all kinds of dirt on Danielle."

"Pretty bad stuff too," Megan said. "Apparently Danielle has an eating disorder, on top of a long list of problems we never knew about."

"Danielle left crying," Tawny said.

"Vanessa even went after her," Megan said. "I mean out of all people… Vanessa…"

"Vanessa said they talked for a long time that night," Tawny said. "Now Danielle won't hardly talk to any of us."

"I think that's what bugs Vanessa the most," Megan said. "She thought they were on a path to restore their friendship, but now she just gets silence from Danielle. Now Vanessa thinks Danielle is starting rumors about her."

"She did mention her other friends not talking to her," I said. "Sucks what happened though."

"Kind of weird between them right now," Tawny said. "I think it even changed Vanessa a little."

"I really haven't noticed," I said. "Of course, it would take a lot to make me notice a change in Vanessa."

"Well I mean… she's not gonna change completely overnight," Tawny said, smiling at me. "She's been taking notice of her flaws lately. Self-examining herself. That sort of thing."

"Please don't tell her we told you all of this," Megan said.

"I really don't want to be involved anyway," I said. "I've got enough to deal with."

"Indeed," Tawny said.

"It's getting pretty late," Megan said. "We should go find your sister Tawny."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm still freezing though."

"Thought you would've warmed up by now," I said. "You two warmed me up."

"Yeah… well you're in the middle," Tawny said. She pushed her head close to mine, and put her nose to my cheek. "Does that feel warm to you?"

Tawny's nose felt like an ice cube on my cheek, except it wasn't wet, thankfully. She managed to touch me a few more times, before I could pull away. Megan joined the fun on the other side, trying to mess with me so that I would be forced to go back to Tawny's cold nose. It worked a few times, until I called for a truce. Tawny went in one last time, but this time she put her lips on my cheek. I still remember her soft lips, and the ever-so-slight trace of stickiness from her lip gloss.

The kiss didn't last long. Though I knew it was more of a token for being a good sport through her teasing, it left me with a strange feeling inside. Before I could recover from the feeling Tawny's kiss gave me, I felt another pair of lips on my left cheek. These lips were softer still, and the kiss lingered a bit longer. The kiss itself felt softer, and it felt like it had deeper meaning behind it than a simple friendly peck on the cheek. My venture into my thoughts at the moment, was cut short by the reentrance of Tawny's voice.

"Let's get some cider on the way back." Tawny looked down at me as she stood. "Was the cider any good?"

I nodded, restraining myself from lifting my hands to my cheeks.

"Well come on then!" Megan said, offering me her hand.

"My treat," Tawny said. "For my two favorite girls."

Tawny's hand reached out for mine. I took it, still lost in a daze from simple kisses. They weren't even sexy kisses, more spur of the moment. If I had moved an inch, they would've probably been painful to the kisser, and a rather sloppy outcome for me. I tried to shake the event from my mind, as Tawny's arm wrapped around my right, and Megan's arm wrapped around my left. Just as they had escorted me before, the two girls escorted me back; to the festivities lining Main Street on that chilly October night.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...