by Justme

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Chapter 12: Keep your head when all about you are losing theirs

You know, it's rather disturbing how happy the chicken is about laying its neck down on that stump. Cluck, cluck. You'd think it was getting a haircut or something. Thwack! Aah! I wasn't quite ready for that!

Oh my god, the body really does run around without the head. I thought that was just an expression.

This is kind of creepy, really. Maybe I'm just not in the right mood for it but at the moment I can't imagine ever being hungry for chicken again. If I'd had any sense I'd have stayed inside with Livy.

"So Coco reared and threw you off?" Mrs. Van Til, that's Felicia's mom, seems pretty casual about the whole thing, considering she's just murdered an innocent bird in cold blood. She's wiping the axe blade off on a rag. "I knew that horse was going to do something like this someday. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Nah, it wasn't like that at all. One foot just came out of the stirrup on the way up and I ended up accidentally dismounting when she came back down, that's all. It was no big deal, really."

"Don't be so modest. You shoulda seen her, Mom. More graceful than Olga Korbut." Olga who? Oh yeah, that Russian gymnast from the last Olympics. And there's that word again--graceful. She can't be talking about me. "And so casual about it--like she calmly dismounts rearing horses every day before lunch." No, actually that was my first. "It was so cool."

I can't tell if Miz Van Til is impressed or just trying not to laugh, but then she gets a more serious look on her face. "Cool or not, Coco shouldn't be doing things like that. Someday someone is going to get hurt. I just don't know what to do with her."

"It's not her fault, really, Miz Van Til. If those stupid boys"--Felicia suddenly seems awfully amused about something--"hadn't been yelling at us and honking and speeding it never would have happened. She's really a sweet horse."

She smiles at me. "Don't worry, I'm not going to beat her or anything. But if we can't figure out a way to get this kind of behavior under control, I may have to sell her."

"But Mom, you can't sell Coco! She's one of the family!"

"It's not my first choice either, but better that than one of your friends getting seriously hurt."

"I guess." Felicia looks as upset about it as I feel. It really wasn't Coco's fault at all.

"Don't worry about it too much. I'm sure we'll figure something out. Why don't the two of you start plucking that one"--she points with the axe at the headless chicken corpse which has by now thankfully run out of steam and is just lying nice and still like dead things are supposed to--"while I slaughter the other one? Are you and Livy staying for dinner, Lee?" That's the name Felicia gave when she introduced me.

"Um, I dunno about Livy but I need to be back by six to babysit for the neighbors."

She looks at her watch. "I can feed you girls a little early then, and drive you home about five-thirty. How's that sound? I'll wait and eat with Bill when he gets home." I'm guessing that would be Mr. Van Til. If that was my name I don't think I'd let people call me Bill--Bill Van Til just sounds silly. Then again, I guess William Van Til isn't much better; everyone'd be asking him to shoot apples off kids' heads with a crossbow. Boy, I bet junior high was fun for him.

Wait, what was she asking about? Oh, right, feeding us early and taking us home. "Um, yeah, that sounds good. Thanks." Oh boy, chicken for dinner. Freshly murdered chicken. My favorite.

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OK, I admit it. Now that I've gotten over my squeamishness, this is some pretty darn good chicken. Still, next time I think I'll pass on 'helping.'

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OK, how long has it been since I rang the doorbell? Is it too soon to ring it again? Yeah, probably. OK, they wanted a boy sitter and I don't want to disappoint. Think boy, think boy.

I'm reaching for the doorbell to ring it again when the door opens. It's Mrs. Bruegemann.

"Hi, Miz B. I didn't want to be late my first time sitting for you."

"Thank you. This is perfect--you can keep the boys out of our hair while we finish getting ready." She looks me over. "It's uncanny."

"What?"

"How you can be such a pretty girl one minute and look like such a--well, such a boy the next."

"Thanks." Two compliments in one--I give her a big smile. I changed into 'boy' jeans and t-shirt when we got back from Felicia's, and put my hair down in a low ponytail. I've still got on the bra and boobs but the baggy shirt mostly hides that.

"OK, now that's just weird."

"What?"

"When you smiled like that, it was like you turned back into a girl before my very eyes--then back to a boy again when you stopped." She shakes her head. "I can't wait to see what you can do on stage. What's in the bag?"

"Oh, this? Baseball stuff. I figured we'd play out back until it gets too dark."

"Oh, they'll love that. Eric! Tommy! Joey's here--come say hi! Oh, and we've already fed them dinner so you don't need to."

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"Hey batta-batta-swing!" I throw the ball overhand but not too hard past Tommy's bat and into Eric's mitt. "Stee-rike one!"

Tommy seems a bit miffed, like I'm cheating or something. "You sure don't throw like a girl." Funny, when I was trying to be a boy I always seemed to hear just the opposite.

"Bye, boys!" Miz B. is calling out the door at the back of the garage. "Be good for Joey! We'll see you in the morning!"

"Bye, Mom!" They both call it out together quickly, then turn their attention back to me.

Eric lobs me the ball, which I casually catch bare-handed since he throws it to the wrong side. "OK, Tommy, keep your eye on the ball!"

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"Hey batta-batta-batta-sw-" Crack! I got a good solid piece of that one--oh, fuck.

Crash!

That was our family room window.

Our back door comes flying open. "What happened? Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah, fine, Mom. Um, I guess I'll be buying us a new window." So much for getting makeup or new shoes. Or that belt. Damn.

She looks at me, reassures herself no one's been hurt, looks at the window and says, "I should say so." I grimace. After a moment she shakes her head and goes back inside.

"Nice hit, Joey. Too bad about your window though. You gonna be in trouble?" Eric seems like a pretty mature kid for his age. He's eight, I think.

"Yeah, probably a little."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. Anyway it's getting kinda dark. How 'bout we go in and make popcorn and see what's on the tube?"

"Yay!! Popcorn! TV!" Jeez, you'd think I'd offered to take 'em for a ride on a fire engine or something.

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"Yeah, we had lots of fun. They were great." No need to bring up the window incident--it wasn't their window after all.

"Oh, good. I was hoping you'd feel that way. Are you free to sit again Saturday night?"

"Yeah, sure!" Only this time I'll bring an activity that's not baseball.

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I try to get to my room quietly, so's not to wake anyone up, but I keep forgetting about that squeaky spot in the hallway floor by the bathroom door. Cre-e-eak.

"Mmmph Joey? Izzat you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Mom. Go back to sleep."

"Mmmhmm."

I really should develop those pictures I took of Michelle yesterday, but I'm just too tired. I'll do it tomorrow night. I can only do it after dark 'cause my improvised closet darkroom isn't light-tight and with sliding doors there's just no easy way to fix that. In my exhaustion I don't even bother taking my clothes off; I just fall face-down on my bed....

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The not-sufficiently-distant drums of what sounds like a high school marching band wake me up with a start and before I can do much more than wonder what the hell they're doing when it's still summer fer cryin' out loud I realize I really, really, really need to pee. I jump up and run to the bathroom and luckily, no one's in there. Jeans down, panties down, seat down--who left that up? Not me--sit down--ahhhh. Relief.

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That's two nights in a row I left myself taped, and it feels a little raw and itchy down there. I guess Michelle wasn't kidding about that--I really need to make sure I don't forget to let it air out tonight.

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"'Morning, Dad." I grab him from the side and give him a hug.

"'Morning, punkin." He starts to lean down to give me a peck on the cheek, like he sometimes does to Livy, then hesitates, so I turn my cheek up to him and point at it to let him know it's OK and he completes the motion. I give him another quick hug and a warm smile to reassure him I'm happy about this. He smiles back. "How's my little princess this morning?"

Little princess? What, I let him kiss me on the cheek and now I'm Shirley Temple? "Jeez, get a grip, Dad. I'm not that kind of girl."

He looks a little hurt, but maybe it's just an act 'cause he looks kind of amused too. "Sorry, sugar. What kind of girl are you?"

"I dunno, I haven't quite figured it out yet. But not that kind." Wait, maybe I do know. "I guess the kind who wants to grow up to be Emma Peel. Or Michelle Dumont." He looks at me with what I take to be approval. "Speaking of Michelle, you haven't heard from her, have you?"

"As a matter of fact I called her last night to see how she was coming with the search. She hasn't found you a doctor yet"--damn!--"but she's barely gotten started looking so don't despair. Oh, and she said to remind you that you owe her some photos."

"OK. I was gonna develop 'em tonight anyway."

"All right, but keep your evening open. We've been woefully neglecting our preparations for the play and we need to make up for lost time. Plan on rehearsing your lines with me from after dinner until bedtime." He looks thoughtful for a second. "If you still want to do it. With all you're going through, I'd certainly understand if you wanted to back out."

"What? Of course I still want to do it. The whole point was to get to spend more time with you, Dad." If anything I need that more than ever right now. I'm a little upset he'd even think it.

I guess he can tell 'cause he answers in a reassuring voice. "All right, punkin. That's what I wanted too, but I didn't want to hold you to it if it was going to be too much to deal with right now. That's all." He reaches up and musses my hair, which is annoying but strangely also comforting.

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"Will this be enough to cover it?" I'm endorsing the check for babysitting over to Mom to pay for the broken window. "Do you think there'll be any left?" I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

"I don't know. If there is I'll withdraw it for you when I deposit this check."

"OK." Sigh. I guess that's all I can ask for. If it ends up costing more, I'll have to do this again after I sit on Saturday. I hope it doesn't come to that.

"Oh, by the way," Mom's got a funny look on her face and a kind of teasing tone in her voice, "you got a call while you were out sitting last night. From a boy." I probably look like a deer caught in headlights right now. "Rich Weiss, as a matter of fact."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. Not a pleasant one like in the dream--a cold, painful one. "What did he want?" I try to keep my voice neutral but I'm dreading her answer.

"He asked if you'd been out riding horses earlier in the day, and when I said you had, he wanted to know if you were OK."

Unh. The knot in my stomach just tightened a notch. I feel sick and hollow inside. It was him in the car.

Mom's looking at me hard now. Does my heartache show on my face? "I told him you were fine, and he sounded relieved, but when I asked him what he meant he said it was nothing, and just to tell you he called. Do you know what he was talking about?" She's giving me that 'If you know what's good for you you'll 'fess up before you get in real trouble' look.

"Uh, no big deal, my horse kind of shied when he and some jerk friends drove by and thought it would be funny to yell and honk at us." She looks like she thinks this kind of is a big deal so I hasten to add, "But nobody got hurt." Physically, anyway.

She looks like she knows there must be more to it than that, but isn't sure she really wants to know. Since she's not pressing it I guess Livy kept her mouth shut; she has enough sense to know not to tell Mom what really happened if we ever want to go riding with Felicia again. Her face softens and she says, "Well it was very thoughtful of him to call and check on you. He probably feels badly about what they did. I think he's sweet on you."

"Yeah." I try not to look like I've just been punched in the stomach.

Mom gives me a concerned, or possibly confused, smile. "Is that good or bad, sweetie?"

Sigh. "I don't know, Mom. I just--I don't know." I guess I must look or sound as miserable as I feel 'cause she gives me a sympathetic hug.

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"I guess that's enough for today." Good, Linda finally noticed that I'm about to collapse from heat exhaustion. "You're doing good, Joey. I do think you have some kind of weird talent for this. It takes you a while to get the hang of a move, but if you just stick with it, once you get it you really seem to get it. It's, I dunno, it's like you fight with it and fight with it and all of a sudden it all snaps into place and it's like you've been doing it your whole life."

Hm. "Yeah, that's kind of how it feels. Like, I suck at this, I'm never gonna get this, why are you making me do this, and then boom, oh that's how you do it. I'd never have gotten this far without you to push me to keep trying and not give up."

"Well, you just have to learn how to push yourself. You know, originally I just wanted you to do this 'cause I thought the experience would be fun and to broaden your horizons a bit, but I'm starting to think there might actually be a chance for you to make the squad. Mostly it'll depend on how good the competition is."

"Oh, god, I don't think I want that. I'd hate to be the cause of keeping some poor girl who actually wants to be a cheerleader from making the cut."

"Well, you can always throw the tryouts if you still feel that way. But I'm going to keep trying to change your mind about it. It is a lot of work but it's fun."

"I can see how much you love it, and I do appreciate all you're doing for me, but I just don't think it's for me."

"Well, we'll see what choice you make when the time comes. In the meantime, how 'bout we go inside and break out the Coke? Hey, as long as you're here maybe we should run lines together."

Whoa. Coke? Lines? I never woulda figured her for the type to--oh, wait, 'run lines'--she's just speaking theatre-ese. She means practice our lines for the play. Duh. "Um, sure, that sounds good." Especially the Coke part. With ice.

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"You're sure that's it?" We've gotten to the end of the script. But that can't be it, can it? It seemed like a lot more when we did the read-through at rehearsal.

"No, I don't see any more lines for Louisa. That's it."

"Huh. Aside from the singing, it's not much of a part, is it?" For which in a way I'm kind of grateful, 'cause I've never much liked drawing attention to myself.

"'There are no small parts, only small actors.' You just have to work it over until you find a way to take the role and make it your own."

"Yeah, but I mean..." I shrug.

"Oh, come on. Anyway acting isn't just saying the lines; it's how you deliver them to say something about the character or situation that isn't in the words. It's in your voice, and what you do with your face and body even when you're not speaking. So, come on, let's figure this out. What's Louisa's deal? What makes her tick?"

"I dunno, I mean, Maria even has a line where she says she can't figure Louisa out. She's kind of like filler, you know? Just to bring the count of kids up to seven. Might as well call her 'Girl #2' in the script."

"Hm. Yeah, they don't really give you much to go on, do they? Well, that just means you can let your imagination go wild." She sees the wicked grin forming on my face and looks at me with suspicion. "Within reason." My grin turns sheepish. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing!" She looks dubious. "No, really. I just liked the idea of letting my imagination go totally wild."

"Well, you can, sort of. But you've got to make sure whatever you come up with fits within the world of the play, you know? And doesn't distract from what the main characters are doing. And, you know, you've always got a few overinflated, easily-bruised egos to deal with so you have to be careful who you upstage." She has a look and a tone in her voice that says she's speaking from experience.

"What happened?" She looks puzzled for a second, then mildly embarrassed as she catches on that I saw through her.

"Uh--I'd rather not go into it, OK?" She looks like the memory has left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Let's just say some guys talk big about equality of the sexes but don't really believe in it."

Something about the way she said that--something clicks. "So he broke up with you over it?" Wow, did that ever hit the target. She looks like she might cry. "Oh god, I'm sorry! I need to learn when to keep my big mouth shut."

She smiles, but her eyes are a little shiny. "For someone who's not even interested in boys yet, your intuition about them seems pretty sharp."

"Well..."

Her eyes get big and she gets a wicked grin on her face. "Oho, you are interested, aren't you?" The tables are turned. My turn to look mildly embarrassed. Maybe not so mildly. "When did it happen? Who is he? What's he like? How did you meet? Does he know how you feel about him? Does he feel the same way?"

"Whoa, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition? All right, yeah, I'm interested in boys now." She looks smug, but somehow in a friendly rather than a snooty way, if that makes sense. "One boy, at least." I frown. "Or I was, anyway. Until he acted like a big jerk and ruined it." I'm starting to feel not so good inside again. She leans closer, resting her chin on her hands with her elbows on the floor, her big eyes inviting me to spill it.

Sigh. So much for running lines.

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"Why does he have to be so--" I can't think of the perfect word to complete the thought so instead I make an angry, frustrated noise.

Linda's rolling her eyes. "Get used to it, honey. They're all like that."

Nuh-uh, I was never like that, was I? Well, I guess maybe I was sometimes. Now that I think of it, lots of times.

All right, most of the time.

OK, she has a point. Boys can be real jerks. It seems to be part of being a boy.

Listen to me--I've been living as a girl less than a week and I've already practically forgotten what it was like before. And I never thought about it much at the time but my god, I can't tell you what a relief it is not to have to deal with that anymore. Only, I guess I do still have to deal with it, just from a different perspective. But not, like, all the time--just when I want to be around boys.

Like now.

"So, you think I should call him back?"

"Well, that's up to you. Do what feels right. I'm just saying, if you disqualify him for that, you're gonna wind up old and alone. Heck, most guys wouldn't have even bothered calling to check on you. Your mom's right. He must have it bad for you."

"You think?"

"Oh, yeah."

I still can't decide if that's good or bad.

And, I mean, my god. He's fifteen. He'll be sixteen by next summer. What's he doing chasing after a thirteen-year-old? He's almost old enough to drive and I'm still in junior high, fer cryin' out loud.

Hmm, old enough to drive--that could come in handy. My lips start to curl up into a smile of their own accord as I consider the possibilities.

Shudder. What am I thinking? I mentally slap myself.

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Ring.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I must have picked up the phone and put it back down five or six times before I got the guts to actually dial.

Ring.

I kinda wish I didn't have such a memory for phone numbers--then I would have had an excuse to put this off. Now if someone will just answer before I lose my nerve and hang up...

Ri-"Hello?"

Gasp. No backing out now.

"Uh, h-hi, may I p-please speak to Rich, please?" Oh god, did I really just say please twice? I'm going to die from humiliation. Linda gives me a squeeze on my shoulders and a reassuring look, and silently mouths it's OK.

"Certainly. May I tell him who's calling?" She sounds so fucking amused. And don't tell me you don't recognize my voice, Mrs. Weiss. You weren't that trashed.

"It's me--Lee. Lee Llewellyn?" You know, the girl with the painful period and the protruding pad? Thinking about it is only getting me even more flustered, 'cause even though it was all in her head that's what she thinks of me.

"All right, Lee. I'll go get him for you." I can actually hear her grinning. As the seconds slo-o-owly tick by waiting for Rich to come to the phone my sense of utter panic grows and it's all Linda can do to keep me from freaking out and hanging up. I'm almost starting to hope maybe he's not home when I hear someone pick the phone back up at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" It comes out as more of a squeak than an actual word. I try again. "Um, hi. Rich?"

"Hi, Lee." He sounds a little nervous himself. "I'm, uh, I'm glad you called. I was worried you'd be mad at me."

Hearing him sounding so unsure of himself somehow makes my own nervousness just evaporate. I instinctively take the upper hand. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Huh?" Ouch, I can hear him wincing. Maybe that was a bit harsh. Even Linda seems to think so, from the look she's giving me. She's standing close enough to hear both ends of the conversation. "Oh god, Lee, I'm sorry we were such assho- um, jerks. I didn't think about what might happen, and you could've gotten hurt and I'd have never forgiven myself. I'm really sorry. Please don't stay mad at me."

He sounds so forlorn I can't bring myself to drag it out. Not too much anyway. After a brief pause I give him my answer. "Well... I guess it says something that you cared enough to call. Since you've apologized I suppose I can forgive you."

He must have been holding his breath 'cause I hear a whoosh at the other end. "Oh, good. I, uh, I'll... well, thanks."

"Sure thing, Rich." Now that that's taken care of, I'm kind of getting nervous again and want to wrap things up quickly. "Well, I just wanted to call and get that cleared up. I guess I should get back to rehearsing with Linda now." She's looking at me like 'after all that you're just going to hang up now?'

"Oh. Uh, OK." He sounds disappointed. "Um, wait, Lee?"

"Yeah?"

"You said you like pinball, right?"

"Yeah...?" He actually remembered that? He really is 'sweet on me,' isn't he?

"Would you like to hang out at the arcade with me sometime? I'll bring a couple rolls of quarters. My treat."

"Um, sure, OK." I'm trying not to sound too excited; I don't want to freak him out.

"I have to go somewhere most of the day tomorrow, but how 'bout Saturday morning? Like about ten o'clock?"

That's after all the good cartoons are over, so it shouldn't be a problem. Anyway I'm getting kind of old for watching cartoons so half the time I don't even bother getting up early on Saturdays anymore. "Cool. Should I just meet you there?" Spending all morning playing pinball, and not even having to pay for it--it doesn't get much better than that.

"Yeah, OK. ...So I guess I'll let you get back to what you were doing, then." Now that that's all set he seems as eager as I am to get this over with.

"'Kay. Bye. See you Saturday!"

"Yeah, see ya then. Bye!"

Click.

Linda's looking at me like the cat that ate the canary. There's a bit of respect in her voice as she says, "You handled that like a pro! It was amazing to watch the way you got over your nerves and just took control." I give her a slightly embarrassed smile. "And the way you got him to ask you out..."

Huh? "It's not like a date or anything; we're just going to hang out and play some pinball Saturday morning." She's looking at me like 'yeah, sure, if that's what you want to believe go right ahead.' "And I didn't get him to--I was just trying to get off the phone before I got nervous again and embarrassed myself."

"Well it did the trick. You've got a date with Rich Saturday morning!" Her voice has a teasing lilt and she keeps poking me with her index finger as she says this. It's kind of annoying.

"It's not a date!"

"What would you call it, then? He's asking you to do something you enjoy, and offering to pay for it. If that's not a date then what is it?"

She's got me there. "Um. A date, I guess." She nods. I probably have that deer-in-the-headlights look again, 'cause she asks, "Have you ever been on a date before?"

"Uhhh..." I think about it, but what is there to think about really? I was always too chicken to ask a girl out on an actual date and I've certainly never been on one with a guy before. "Nope. This would be my first."

Holy crap. I'm going on a date!

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Chapter 13: Expect the unexpected

"What's the matter, Mom?" I didn't know what to expect when I told her Rich asked me out, but it certainly wasn't this.

"I'm sorry, Joey. I don't know what's come over me." She's crying. But why? I thought she might disapprove, or maybe even be excited for me. But crying?

"Was it something I said?" I go back over it in my mind, but I can't think of anything that would have set her off like this.

"No, no. It's just--Oh, I'm so unprepared for all this." She slumps down into a chair and rests her face in her hands, elbows on the table. I pull up a chair next to her and try to think of what I could do to make it better.

I can't think of anything. I figure it might help if I was sure about what was bugging her. "By 'all this' you mean me being a girl, don't you?"

She looks up at me. "I'm sorry. I know you can't help being who you are, and I wouldn't want you to. I just have no idea sometimes how to be a good mother for you. I wish I had an example to follow."

Maybe she just needs it put in perspective for her. "I'm just a girl, Mom. Like any other girl. Like Livy. You know how to handle that, don't you? I'd say you're doing a pretty good job with her." I probably wouldn't have felt that way a week ago, but now, yeah.

"I've been trying to think of it that way and it's been working, mostly. But in some ways it's just not the same and I have no idea how to handle it."

"Like what?"

"Like dating, Joey." Her eyes are boring holes into my soul. I read that expression somewhere once but I think this is the first time I've really understood what it meant.

"We're just going to the arcade to play some pinball, Mom. It's not like--"

"Not like what? Not like you're going to go home with him and have sex on the first date?" She practically barks it at me.

"Mom!" What's gotten into her? She's scaring me.

"I was a teenager once, Joey. I remember what dating is about. It may not happen right away, maybe if I'm lucky not for years, but eventually that's going to come up. Just the fact that you were trying to reassure me it wouldn't, yet, tells me you've thought about it." I'm burning with shame right now under Mom's intense gaze. Her voice softens a little. "It's perfectly normal. It's part of growing up. I understand that. I just"--her voice cracks a bit with emotion--"I don't even know how to talk to you about it. With Livy I could draw on my own experience, and I was letting Steve handle that with you, when you were--when we all thought you were a boy. You're a girl, Joey, but you're not like other girls when it comes to that and I haven't the first clue how to prepare you for what you'll have to deal with. I don't even really know what that will be."

No, I guess she wouldn't. It's not like I do either. "I'm sorry, Mom. I never meant to cause you so much grief."

"I know you didn't, sweetie. Anyway it's not as if Livy hasn't caused us her share of grief. It's just part of being a parent."

"Yeah, but this is kind of above and beyond the call of duty, you know? I just wish there was some way I could make it easier on you."

"It's all right. We'll just have to muddle our way through this as a family and manage as best we can."

Family. I remember something Mom said the other night. "Maybe Michelle can help."

She looks like I've just thrown her a lifeline. "I just bet she can. She gave you her phone number, didn't she?" I nod. "Tell it to me--oh, wait." She looks at the clock on the wall. "She'll still be at work. But I'm going to give her a call right after dinner. Oh, what a relief to know I won't have to do this completely alone." She gives me a big hug.

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"You know, Mom, it would have been a lot faster and easier if we had a Radar Range like Aunt Kathy." We're having leftover Sauerbraten. It actually wasn't that hard to reheat it on the stove, but still. Really I just want one 'cause I like the way the bread gets all gooey when you make melted cheese sandwiches in it.

"It's a microwave oven. 'Radar Range' is a brand name." Dad can be a real stickler for that kind of stuff, being in the ad business and all.

"Whatever it's called, it's too expensive and we don't need it." Well, what did you think Mom was going to say? We didn't even have a color TV until last year.

"You just wanna be able to make melted cheese sandwiches all the time. I don't know how you can stand those things--they're all soggy and disgusting."

I stick my tongue out at Livy. "That's why they're good. Philistine!"

"Barbarian!"

"Elitist!"

"Bourgeois pig!"

"Hey, that's a pretty good one. Mind if I use it?"

"Go ahead, you will anyway."

I smile at her in mock-gratitude. We've always played this trading-insults game so we've both gotten pretty good at it over the years but I dunno, somehow this time it seems more playful and less mean-spirited. I guess 'cause we're getting along better these days.

----------

It took, like, maybe ten minutes for me to memorize all my lines and cues. Dad's part is taking a lot longer, obviously. He's in like half the scenes, and I'm reading like half the lines in the play to feed him his cues.

Mom's been on the phone since we finished dinner. With Michelle, I think. I wonder what they could be talking about for so long. Well yeah, me, but I mean like what about me?

"Come on, Joey; we're almost halfway through. I'd like to keep at it and see if we can run through the whole thing once tonight."

"Huh?" Guess I spaced out for a second there trying to overhear Mom's end of the conversation. "Oh, sorry, Dad. Um... 'You've got to hear, you're never home.'"

"'I don't want to hear more!'"

"'I know you don't, but you've got to. Liesl's not a child-'"

"'Not one word-'"

"'Soon she'll be a woman and you won't even know her.'" As I'm reading these lines I'm kind of imagining Maria could be talking to Dad about me. "'Friedrich wants to be a man but you're not here to show-'" Huh. I think maybe Dad's thinking along the same lines 'cause he's kinda wincing. I close my script, keeping my place with a finger. "Um, Dad, it's not your fault."

"What? That's not in my script--"

"No, but I could kinda tell what you were thinking. I didn't turn into a girl because you weren't around to show me how to be a man, Dad."

"Oh." He looks up from his script at me and smiles sheepishly. "No, I wasn't worrying about that specifically, but thanks for the reassurance."

"Then what?" I wasn't imagining his reaction, was I?

"It was just hitting a little close to home, that's all."

"Oh." He feels a bit guilty about not being around more. I feel bad for thinking he damned well should 'cause really that's not fair. "Well, that's why we're doing this together, right?" He smiles his agreement. "Anyway it's something you can use for the scene."

"Ha! I'll make an actor out of you yet!" He ruffles my hair.

----------

I can barely keep my eyes open, but I promised I'd get these pictures developed tonight. Some of them are pretty darned good, if I say so myself. As usual, the best ones are all candid shots; the ones I staged aren't bad, but they look staged, if you know what I mean. I just wish I could put my finger on what it is about them that gives it away.

Yawn. Guess I'll worry about it in the morning. The prints hung up to dry with clothespins, I lie down on my bed to rest for a minute before getting undressed.

----------

A truck or something rumbling by rattles my windows and wakes me up enough to realize I desperately need to pee. It's full daylight which means it must be morning, so that shouldn't be too surprising. As I get up I realize I fell asleep in my clothes, which are all sweaty. I look at the clock. Ten thirty-eight? I must have been exhausted--I never sleep in this late.

----------

Ah! That kind of stings!

Oh, crap. That's three solid days 'taped up' and not airing things out. Better undo it and have a look...

Great. I've got a rash on my penis. I shouldn't even have a penis and now I've got a rash on it. Lovely. Just what I always wanted.

----------

I gingerly dry it off after my shower. It's all raw and itchy.

Hey, Grandfather gave me a sample tube of cortisone cream when I got those hives on my arm last summer--I wonder if there's any left... yeah, here it is. It's a teeny little tube but there should be enough.

Oh-oh-oh-owww! Fuck, that stings! I hope it's OK to be putting this here.

OK, the stinging is subsiding. I guess I better leave it untaped today--not that tape would stick with this cream all over everything anyway.

I wrap my towel around my middle, pulling it high enough to cover up my breasts, or rather my complete lack thereof. I'm really self-conscious about not having any and even though everyone in this house already knows I don't feel like reminding them as I head back to my room.

----------

I really wish I'd been more careful about airing it out every night. I don't think it's a good idea to tuck it too well today so I don't think I can get away with wearing any kind of pants. I am not wearing the Little House on the Prairie dress, and the denim jumper leaves too much exposed for comfort. Which leaves the skirt Livy borrowed the other day, which is still in the laundry hamper and probably all wrinkled and smelly, or--well, I never got around to trying this one on. It's sleeveless and strapless and light and summery and it's kind of cute, and comes down just below my knees, if I can figure out a way to wear my boobs with it.

----------

OK, it's not all that comfortable, but it works. I left my arms out of the bra straps and kind of tucked them down inside the band of the bra. The band and cups hold the 'boobs' in place, and the elastic at the top of the dress that holds it up will keep them from falling out if I bend over.

I put my hair up in a ponytail. Something's missing...

----------

Knock, knock. "C'mon in."

I open Livy's door and stick my head in tentatively, the rest of my body eventually following. She smiles when she sees what I'm wearing.

"Cute sundress! Any particular reason you're wearing it, or just felt like it?"

"Um, I kinda needed to air things out down there." I say it without thinking about it; she gets a funny look on her face and I realize I should maybe have been more discreet and not grossed her out with my unique personal hygiene problems. I can feel the heat rising in my face as my sense of modesty belatedly kicks in. Quick, change the subject. "I, uh, don't suppose there's any chance you have a hair ribbon that would go with this?"

She shakes her head slowly. "Sorry, no. I never wear 'em." Her expression is hard to read--I can't tell if it's puzzled, alarmed, or what.

I decide to just ignore it and press on. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

I'm about to say 'thanks anyway' and leave but before I can she says, "You should, though. You'd be like beyond cute." She glances down at my bare feet. "I do have a pair of white sandals you could borrow."

"Thanks, that would be great." I smile, a little uncertainly 'cause there's still something a little odd about the way she's looking at me. Like she's trying to figure something out, or decide something, or... something.

"Ask Mom about a hair ribbon. Maybe she has something you could use for that." I can't picture Mom wearing ribbons in her hair, but I guess it can't hurt to ask. I nod. "Ummm, what did you mean about airing things out?"

I must be beet red now. I examine my toenails, noting absently that they need cutting, then turn just my eyes upward to look at her face as I reply. "I, uh, I'm s'posed to let it air out every night"--she looks puzzled again, but as I go on I see the light of comprehension begin to dawn on her face--"but I haven't been, and now it's all itchy and kind of raw so I figured, you know, better late than never."

"Itchy and raw? You mean, like a rash or something?"

My humiliation now complete, I feel strangely free to talk about it. "Yeah, I've got a rash on my--um, down there. I put some of that itch cream on it but it stung like crazy. I can't tell if it's helping."

"Huh. Sounds like a yeast infection."

"A what?" I thought yeast was for baking and stuff. I didn't know you could get an infection from it.

"Yeast infection. I had one once." She looks very sympathetic now. "You should tell Mom. If that's what it is you'll probably need to see a doctor and get a prescription for it. It won't go away on its own."

Well, at least it's something normal girls get, and not just freaks like me.

----------

"A hair ribbon? Feeling especially 'girly' today, are we?" Mom looks amused, but not really like she's making fun of me. It seems like she's kind of, I dunno, almost excited about it. Which I guess makes sense, given how hard she's always had to work just to get Livy to wear a dress or skirt.

"Um, yeah, I guess you could say that," I answer ruefully. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I'm all kind of raw and itchy down there and Livy said it might be a yeast infection and I should see a doctor." OK, Mom's eyes are pretty big right now. At least they're not starting to cross.

Oh, wait, there they go.

"I should have a look. Come in the bathroom." I give her a horrified look. She just rolls her eyes at me. "Oh, give me a break. I used to bathe you and change your diapers, for crying out loud. Come on." How many times can I experience abject humiliation in one day?

----------

"Do you have any idea what caused this?"

"Well..." Apparently the answer to my rhetorical question is 'at least three.' I'm at the point where I have no pride left so at least it can't get any worse, can it? "Michelle said I should let it air out every night and I haven't been very good about that." Apparently it can; she gives me one of her patented 'I'm disappointed in you' looks. I get all defensive. "Well the first night I was just enjoying having things right down there for once and didn't want to be reminded about--you know--and I figured one night wouldn't hurt, and the last two nights I've been so exhausted I've just fallen asleep before I could even get undressed. I didn't mean for it to go this long."

"Oh, Joey. You need to be more responsible. This is your body. Your health."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry." I can't look her in the eye as I say it so I look at the floor tiles instead.

"Don't apologize to me. You've only let yourself down."

"Yeah." Only I can tell she feels let down too. I'm on the verge of tears. Why didn't I take Michelle's warnings more seriously? "So is it? A--a yeast thingy?"

"From what you just told me and from what I can see, it seems pretty likely that's what it is. We'll have to go to the doctor and get you a prescription for some yeast cream."

That doesn't seem so bad, until I realize what it means. "Oh, noooo! He'll want to look at it."

Mom seems confused. "Of course, sweetie. He's a doctor; it's not as if he's never seen a penis before, for heaven's sake."

"On a girl?"

For a second she seems even more confused, then seems to understand the source of my dismay. "Well, we don't have to tell him that part."

"But--you mean I'll have to pretend to be a boy again? In public?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I know that's upsetting, but you did bring this on yourself."

"But I don't even have any boy underwear anymore."

"I was going to K-Mart today anyway. You have enough left over from paying for the window to buy a pack of Fruit-of-the-Looms."

Make that four times in one day. And the day is just starting.

----------

"I thought you'd want to start getting this taken care of before your big day tomorrow so I had them squeeze you in this afternoon."

"Oh. Uh, thanks." I guess. I am not looking forward to this.

"Dr. Cohen didn't have any openings so you'll be seeing someone else in his office--a Dr. Cykuta. I don't think I've met him." Neither have I, so I just smile and shrug. "Do you want to change before we go to K-Mart?"

"Why, did I get something on my dress?" I contort around trying to get a good view of all sides to see what the matter is.

"No, I just thought you might feel a little awkward picking out boy's underwear dressed like that."

"You're gonna make me do it?" She starts to launch into her 'you got yourself into this mess' lecture but I cut her off before she can get started. "All right, all right. I'll go change."

----------

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Mom seems to be getting an awful lot of entertainment value out of me today.

I go through a mental checklist--no bra or boobs, check. Boy T-shirt, check. Boy jeans, check. Not 'tucked,' check. That should be everything. "What now?" I try to sound less exasperated than I feel.

She points at my head. I look up, then reach up with my hands. "Wha- oh." Sheepishly I take the rubber band out and let down my ponytail.

"That's not much better, sweetie."

"I know, but can't I wait until we get there to pull it back? What if someone sees me?"

She just smiles. "All right. Let's go."

----------

Ugh. I'm glad that part's over with. I felt like some kind of weirdo shopping in the boys' department for underpants. I hope the clerk didn't notice how flustered I was.

As soon as we get home I run to my room and change back into the dress. When I come out Mom gives me a funny look.

"I thought you were just going to change your underwear so you'd be ready to go to the doctor."

I don't feel like explaining why the boy clothes are bothering me so much right now; I'm not sure I really could anyway. So I come up with a practical reason to give her. "That's not for hours and hours, Mom. I need to keep airing things out as much as possible. Those pants don't exactly have a lot of ventilation."

"Oh. Good point." I'm not sure she buys that that's my main reason, but at least it's a valid one.

"I'll change back just before we go."

"All right."

I remember something. I'm supposed to be going over to Linda's in about half an hour. But I can't very well do tumbling in a sundress, and I can't tuck myself to put on shorts. "Shoot. I guess I better call Linda and tell her I can't make it today."

I'm a little surprised at how disappointed I am.

----------

"Come sit with me, Joey." Mom pats the seat of the couch. Smiling, I plop down where she indicated and fold my legs up under my skirt. "I had a nice long talk with Michelle last night." I nod but my smile kind of freezes. It's time for The Talk. I have a feeling this is going to be kind of awkward and just, you know, weird; not that parents aren't always kind of weird but you know what I mean.

"Now, I know you don't expect your date with Rich tomorrow to lead to anything more--"

"Oh my god, you have a date with Rich?" Livy's sticking her head out of her bedroom and looking down the hall at us. "Felicia's going to shit!" She looks guiltily at Mom. "Um, pardon my French."

"It's not a date! We're just going to hang out at the arcade and play some pinball."

"Well, is he paying?" I shrug and nod. "And he asked you?" Another nod. "And it's just the two of you?"

"As far as I know." Jeez, I hope so.

"Then it's a date." I roll my eyes. "Sorry, I'm not trying to ruin it for you. But Felicia doesn't know about it yet, does she?"

"No." And she doesn't know Rich was in that car, either, and I'm not sure whether I should say anything.

Mom's looking pretty annoyed now. "Can you two work this out later? I'm trying to have an important talk with Joey right now." She looks pointedly at Livy.

"Yeah, OK. Sorry." Livy looks at me. "As soon as you're done, right?"

I look down at my lap and nod. "Yeah." Shit. I've been avoiding thinking about it. I guess it's time to face up to it.

"Now where were we? Oh, right. The thing is, sweetie, these things don't usually happen when you plan them to. You just get caught up in the moment and your emotions and hormones carry you away." She pauses to collect her thoughts; I just wait patiently. She sighs. "For most girls, now would be the time where I warned you about how getting pregnant at your age could ruin the rest of your life."

"Guess I don't have to worry 'bout that anyway, huh Mom?" I smile but with the mood I'm in now, all I can think of is how unfair it is that I couldn't get pregnant even if I wanted to and my eyes start to tear up.

It's like she's reading my mind 'cause she gently pulls my head onto her shoulder and says, "I know this is even harder for you than it is for me. Life can be so unfair."

I squeeze my eyes shut and nod against her shoulder. "Uh huh." I sniffle. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn't get you anywhere though, so I try to shake it off with a little ironic humor. "And if I was a boy, now would be the part where you tell me how getting my date pregnant at my age could ruin the rest of my life too, right?" I look up and she nods. "But I don't think I have to worry 'bout that either." I smile even though my eyes are moist and she smiles back.

"No, I don't think you have to worry about that."

"So what do I have to worry about, O fount of all parental wisdom?"

She gives me a dirty look, then takes a deep breath and sighs again. "From what Michelle tells me, a lot. The biggest danger is being found out. It seems the most common reaction men have to finding out their date is--well..." She seems to be searching for the right way to phrase it.

"Not all girl?" I suggest.

"That's a good way to put it. Apparently the usual response is violence. Sometimes deadly."

Oh god. Rich wouldn't do that, would he? I mean... shit, what do I really know about him? And my first instinct when I saw him was that he wouldn't hesitate to beat the crap out of me.

I'm suddenly finding I'm a lot more nervous and a lot less excited about my date.

"Now, supposing you've dealt with that, you still have the same thing to worry about as everyone else."

"What?"

"Venereal diseases."

"Oh. Right." We learned about that in health class. Gonorrhea, syphilis, and so forth. "Isn't that curable these days with a shot of penicillin?"

"Some kinds are. Others, like herpes, aren't. You just don't want to take any chances."

"Oh. Well, I won't have to worry about it anyway since there's no chance we'll be doing anything like that."

"How can you be sure?"

"After what you just told me about violent reactions, there's no way I'm gonna let myself get caught up in the moment and take a chance of Rich finding out about me."

Mom looks like she wants to say something but doesn't want to say it at the same time.

"What?"

"Now I'm not suggesting you do this, or even condoning it. But I know I can't control everything you do and I know things can happen in the heat of the moment in spite of your best intentions and I wouldn't want you to get hurt because you didn't know there was a safer choice. If you decided you wanted to 'put out' for a boy there are ways you could do it without risking being found out." OK, she has my attention now. She pauses and takes a deep breath. "For one thing, you could use your hands. You know what masturbation is, right? Or 'heavy petting?'"

I blush and nod. If it went that far--which I'm telling you right here and now it will not, no way, no how--I guess I could do that. I'm not sure how much fun it would be for me though, since I couldn't let him return the favor. "Um, you said 'ways.' What else?"

She looks almost as uncomfortable as I feel. Did I not say this was going to be weird? "Well, you can rub those parts of your bodies against each other through your clothes."

For some reason this brings an image to mind of my cousins' dog humping my leg, which she seems to enjoy. Yes, she. I know, it's weird. Yeah, like I'm not.

Then I get an image of Rich doing it. I have to stifle a laugh and Mom gives me a look like, come on, this is hard enough as it is.

Anyway that does sound more promising than the first option. Again, not that it's going to come to that. We're just playing pinball, for Pete's sake. Still, I can file it away for future reference. Which is the point, I guess.

"And... I'm not sure I want to tell you this, but I suppose I'd better, since you probably would think of it yourself eventually and I want you to be prepared."

I just look at her with curiosity.

She really doesn't want to tell me about this but now I'm dying to know. She gathers up her resolve and pushes on. "Do you know what fellatio is?"

"Huh?" I've heard the word before, I think, but I can't remember what it means.

"Oral sex?" Oh, right. Oral sex. As in--

Oh my god, did my mom just tell me I could give Rich a blow job?!

---

 
To Be Continued...