But I’ve tried being a boy!
I wasn’t any good at it, and it wasn’t very much fun.

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W. and Holly Logan
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 6

By Penny Reed Cardon

The next morning we were all meeting together in the lounge before breakfast, which after only four days felt like the normal thing to do. We were discussing yesterday's visit with Rachael and the alternate heckling strategy Mary Beth and I tried out. Suddenly, Hope remembered our discussion about the elevators.

"We were going to tell them everything," Wally confessed.

"But we were in Rachael's room, not knowing what will happen to her after she recovers, I thought it best to not discuss it there," Tony added.

"We should all be together to tell them about the school. Besides, shouldn’t this information really should come from our year leaders," Hope concluded.

"Thank you Hope, you are correct," Jenny agreed. "We should be together for this discussion, that way we can answer any questions that may come up. This is something we should have discussed before now; however this has been a very crazy weekend."

"That's for sure," Aaron agreed. "Anyway, being that we're the youngest students here, we aren't involved in some of what goes on. I guess the administration feels we're too young to understand. They keep forgetting that we’re also the sharpest. We’ve made certain discoveries on our own."

"You bet we did! What do they think we are, stupid?" Wally complained.

"Easy Wally," Jenny cautioned. "Getting upset again won't get us anywhere. His sentiment is shared by many of us. Let us explain."

The next fifteen minutes were alarmingly informative. Over the last five months, different students from year A had seen and heard enough to come to some startling speculations. Most of their speculations were centered around a small group of students, year D and above. Speculation aside they have enough, possibly valid, information to form no conclusions, only enough to cause one to think. First, Deanna, who likes to sleep with her curtains open, reported having observed on three separate occasions one of the schools small vans disappear behind the upper year dorms, sitting there for about five minutes before re-emerging; it would then disappear over the mountains to the north. Second, they heard that, before the last field trip, several students knew far enough in advance, that they had assumed their alternate gender identities a day before the ‘no changes’ announcement was made. Third, occasionally, members of the same small group of students, would be seen suspiciously, going into, or coming out of an elevator. When year A asked the question about using the elevators themselves, they were told that using the stairs was part of the schools physical education program. Lastly, and perhaps most significantly, Jenny had been able to determine that a small group of students, perhaps six to eight, have a unique bond between them. How she got close enough to gather that information she wouldn’t say.

The exact purpose of the group isn't known by year A, but the more questions they asked, the more they learned to ... not ask questions. All they are certain of is, that the group exists, they know about things before they happen, they appear to receive special training, and … when the school has 'Freaky Friday', none of the group can be identified. Their makeup skills are that good.

"Jenny, is Kimberley from year F, part of that group?" I asked.

"We have positively identified only two members of the 'Mystery Group', as we call them," Jenny confirmed. "Where as Kimberley has not been confirmed as one of them, she is on the ‘suspected to be a member’ list. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when Mary Beth and I requested some help with makeup for the Halloween Ball, we were told that some assistance had already been arranged. Kimberley did our makeup that night, I was just curious," I explained.

'That explains a lot. What Kimberley told me in the restroom is starting to make sense. I know that I can't tell everyone else what she said, that would confirm their suspicion. I will have to tell Mary Beth. I'm still not sure what it has to do with me being a munchkin, or someone named Sally, but Kimberley is part of that puzzle. I wonder if she will talk to me about it. I wonder if Mary Beth and I are going to be part of the mystery group. I wonder when I'm going to start coming up with more answers than questions.'

During breakfast, my PDA beeped. The thing that was unusual about it was that Mary Beth's PDA beeped at the same time. We discovered that our French class has been moved up forty-five minutes, permanently. I guess there’ll be no more visiting with our friends in year F, at least not between breakfast and French. Ellen, who was our visiting psychiatrist for the day, indicated that she was having a hard time working some time into our schedules for her to see us. It seems that Mary Beth and I are the two busiest students in year A. Well goodness me, just how lucky can we be?

We decided on Tuesday and Thursday, between dinner and choir practice, for our standing appointment times with Ellen. Sometimes we will meet with her together and sometimes separately, but always on Tuesday and Thursday, for the next couple of months or until there is less stress on us and everything settles down.

"Bonjour, Mosieur Rusty," we chorused, as we entered the classroom.

"And Bonjour to you," he replied with a smile. "We didn't cover that greeting the last time we met, did we?"

"No. I found an English to French dictionary on the network and looked it up," I confessed.

"Well now, going out of your way to enhance your education. I 'm proud of you. Can I assume that was in addition to practicing yesterday's lessons?" Rusty inquired.

"Oh yes, we practiced what we covered yesterday, three different times," Mary Beth confirmed. Downheartedly she continued, "I'm afraid we don't sound very good."

"That's all right Mary Beth; right now we need to concentrate on the words and pronunciation. We'll worry about your tone and the quality of your accent later."

"Rusty, may I ask you a question," I asked.

"Of course Matilda."

'Let’s see, how do I word this so it doesn't appear like I'm fishing for information' ...

"Well, I was just wondering, why you change our class time?"

"I didn't change the time! I received a notice of the change last night. Why, is there a problem with starting this early?"

"No, no problem, I was just wondering."

'No problem at all, I'm just really curious as to the reason why.'

"Shall we get started then?" he asked.

After a quick review of yesterday's material, we jumped right into today's lesson. About halfway through our two and a half hour class, Rusty suggested we take a short break. Even though I stopped in the restroom earlier, I didn't want to have to try and stifle the need later. The rest of class time seemed to fly by.

Mary Beth and I were going down to the main floor when both PDA's beeped. Checking them revealed another change in both schedules. My half an hour each day with RJ is now an hour and fifteen minutes. Mary Beth now has a twice a week voice lesson with Mrs. T; oddly enough, it is at the same time I’m with RJ.

"So much for forty-five minutes of free time," Mary Beth commented.

"I know what you mean! As busy as we are, I don't know when I'll be able to spend any serious time figuring out how to get the information we know about Bart, into the right hands. I've been working on it, but working on the problem for only ten minutes at a time is going to take me forever."

"Do you really think you'll find someone that will do something to keep Bart from hurting any more kids?"

"I don't know Mary Beth. I just know we have to try, if we don't try to stop him, we're worse than he is."

"But there's just the two of us, and we're only ten. Who's going to listen to us? Better yet, who's going to stand up against Bart's dad? I don't know what Bart's dad told our old principal, but he told all the teachers to stay away from Bart."

"I know all of that," I sadly agreed. "I also know I have to try. If I can't find a way of getting the legal system to stop him, I'll just have to explore some other options."

"What do you mean … other options? If the legal system won't do anything, what other options are there?"

"Well, one option would be to search into Bart's background, try to find someone or something that Bart and his dad are afraid of. I mean, if they can use fear and intimidation to get what they want, maybe we can use the same thing to get what we want."

There was a long pause before Mary Beth quietly asked, "Matilda, remind me again ... what is it that we want? I mean, are we after revenge, or justice, or what?"

"A part of me wants revenge. I mean, when I first saw Rachael laying in the hospital with both her arms and legs in casts, I swore to myself that someday whoever did that would live to regret what they had done. Of course, that was in the heat of the moment, without thought, or thinking of the consequences. Today, thinking clearly, and after a couple of visits with Ellen, I know that revenge, while being the motive for a lot of people, serves no worthwhile purpose. Obviously, Bart can't do anything to us here, so, we could just pretend that he doesn't exist and forget about everything he did. There are a couple of problems with trying to forget; one, you're in this wheelchair, two, Rachael is in the hospital, and three, we weren't the only ones that Bart picked on."

"You're right! - There were so many of us on Bart's hit list. Who do you think he's picking on now?"

"Being that he can't find me, Bart will select a new favorite target. My guess would be either Walter Rivers, or Sierra Walker.

"Little Wally, in Mrs. Chuggs third grade class, or Sierra, in Miss Jennings class?" Mary Beth thought aloud. After a pause and a sigh she added, "You're right, as usual, something must be done to stop Bart from hurting other kids. He's probably picking on Sierra, and her friends. Bart always did get a kick out of showing off little girl's panties to his gang, especially if the little girl is still in them. Okay Matilda, you do what ever you have to do, Bart must be stopped. Let me know what I can do to help."

"You know I will. After all, we’re in this together. Come on," I said as we resumed our journey, "we're late; RJ will wonder where we are."

"Good morning Matilda, I assume this is Mary Beth," RJ greeted as we entered. "I was getting worried, you're fifteen minutes late."

"I'm sorry, we um, lost track of the time," I explained.

"No harm done, we do have a lot to accomplish today, so let’s get started. I think we should start with Mary Beth's PDA; then she can be off. I know that Mrs. Taylor is expecting her."

"I do have an appointment with Mrs. T, but how did you know?" Mary Beth asked.

"Do you really need to ask that question Mary Beth?" I exclaimed. "Where do we keep track of our schedule?"

"On our PDA's," she answered.

"And our PDA's are linked to the school’s network. RJ has access to every computer and PDA on the system. I'm sure he checked both our schedules before he changed mine."

"Oh, you're right, I didn't think of that," she confessed.

"Now that we have established my knowledge of your schedule," RJ acknowledged. "Shall we take care of your upgrade, so we don't keep Mrs. Taylor waiting any longer than we have to? May I please have your PDA?"

Mary Beth surrendered her PDA. RJ quickly uploaded its contents to the network, verifying that any last minute changes or recently entered data would be saved. Next, he removed a new PDA from a box in his desk, powered it up and entered what appeared to be a security code. The screen displayed a twenty-four character number, mostly numeric but there were many alpha characters as well. Turning to the computer on his desk, he accessed a server I didn't recognize. In the folder '2012' he accessed the folder 'Mary Beth', scrolling down to 'PDA Model' he replaced 'Edinburgh 110' with 'Silicon Valley 218'. The six digit ID number was replaced with the twenty-four character number from the PDA. The last thing he did was to open a window called 'Administrator Encryption' where he keyed in a two-line phrase. When he hit enter, the window disappeared and all the data, with the exception of Mary Beth's name, changed into unreadable characters.

Turning to me, he smiled and asked, "Did you follow all of that Matilda?"

"Well, if you're asking if I could duplicate everything you just did, not at this moment," I confessed. "But if you give me some time ..."

"I'm just pulling your leg; you're not supposed to do everything that I do. Otherwise you'd be teaching me, instead of me teaching you," RJ chuckled.

'Now I'm confused, RJ knows I can get into the system, he doesn't say anything while I'm watching him setup Mary Beth's new PDA. Then he asked me if I could duplicate what he did, knowing that I'll take that as a personal challenge. Next he tells me that I'm not supposed to do what he does, as if I shouldn’t accept the challenge. So, am I supposed to figure this out or not? Maybe he's detected my attempts to get outside the schools system and this is some kind of game of his to distract me. Maybe ...'

"You hoo, Matilda," RJ interrupted my thoughts. "I'd like you to show me exactly how you got into the server root files with your PDA, keystroke by keystroke. We didn't have the time to go over it thoroughly yesterday."

I assumed he’d finished with Mary Beth and she left, while I had been so completely absorbed in my own thoughts. "Speaking of time, did you arrange for our French class schedule to be changed so we'd have more time?"

"No, I don’t have anything to do with the scheduling of classes, except mine of course. I was looking at your schedule this morning, trying to find us more time. When I discovered that your French class had been moved up, I thought I'd take advantage of that change. Is there a problem with making this your regular time?"

"No, no problem at all, as long as you speak French. In about two weeks Mary Beth and I should have learned enough to change from all English to mostly French."

“Parden je. Mon Francais n’est pas bon?”

I wasn’t sure what RJ said, but his use of French, as well as his smile, told me that my class would indeed continue.

"I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “but I simply couldn’t resist that. Of course, I speak French and I will be going with you to Toronto and Quebec. I usually go on all the field trips. However, like you, I also speak another language '1 0 0 1', with that I can go anywhere in the world, tracking down almost any information we need. Now then, let's take it step by step ..."

I spent the next forty-five minutes explaining what I did each time I tried to access the system and how I was blocked by RJ's security. He also wanted to know what I learned from each failed attempt. I was up to Saturday afternoon, when our time was up for the day.

"Matilda, I'm impressed and discouraged," RJ admitted.

I giggled as I inquired, "How can you be impressed and discouraged at the same time?"

"I'm impressed by you and your ability to learn from each failure. Then you analyze each step and logically plan your next step. Then again, I'm depressed, because of how predictable my security measures appear to be."

"Sorry about that," I replied timidly.

"Don't be sorry, I'm actually excited. It means we both have some learning to do. We'll continue this tomorrow, if that's okay with you?"

"That works for me, assuming someone doesn't change my schedule again," I answered with a grin.

I sent Mary Beth a note, asking her location. She replied almost immediately, telling me that she was waiting for me, on the main floor, about to go outside. She had decided to wait for me, as it had started snowing again.

I collected Mary Beth and we went to lunch. Following lunch, we went to see Rachael, taking with us the final third of The Black Sheep. That evening, after dinner, we went for our first scheduled appointment with Ellen.

We had to rush to choir practice, as we were running late again. Ellen said that she'd send a note to Mrs. T, apologizing for keeping us so long.

Choir practice went well. Of course, I didn't like where Mrs. T decided to place me. I mean, after all I am the shortest student here, but to stick me way out on the end where everyone can see me, I mean ... geeze. Can't I just hide in the back some place, at least until my silly body decides to grow a bit more? Well, there two good things about standing way out here; first, I can finally see Mrs. T without having to peek around someone else, and of course, I can see most of the empty seats as well, like looking at empty seats is fun or something, (sarcastic grin). The other thing that's good about standing on the end is that I get the chance to talk with some of the older students. Edward one of the year leaders for year G seems to really care about helping the younger students, not at all like the older students at my old school. Edward said that all his friends call him Ed and that I should too. He's really a neat guy ... I hope I didn't offend him when I told him that. Oh well, he was dressed male, so it should have been okay.

After choir practice Mary Beth and I went back to our rooms, practiced the other songs for a little while, read our scriptures, said our nightly prayers and went to bed; me hugging Nellie and Mary Beth hugging me.

'It's so comforting sleeping in Mary Beth's arms, I don't know what I'd do without her. I wonder if any of the other students sleep with their study partner. Probably not, I guess I'm still too much of a child. Well, some day I'll outgrow the need of having Mary Beth in my bed. I'm a little glad that she was crying that first night in the hospital; it gave me an excuse to not be alone. I never realized how much I'd miss my home and family. I'm sure Mary Beth feels the same way. At least we're here for each other. I guess that today has been as close to a normal day as possible, if you consider how hectic the last few days have been.'

* * *

The next day after dinner we were all sitting around in the lounge. Mary Beth and I were practicing our French while Aaron and about five others were working through different parts of the design process. We planned to join them when we finished. The rest of the group spent their free time pursuing various forms of entertainment.

Surprising everyone, there was a knocked at the lounge door. Tina, being seated closest to the door, went to see who it was that wished admittance. "Bonjour Mosieur Peterson, Entré S'il Vous Plaá®t.”

"Merci beaucoup, Tina," he thanked her. Turning to face everyone, he announced loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a surprise for you. If you would all please accompany me?" With that, he motioned to the door with both hands.

Everyone was stunned by Mr. Peterson's sudden arrival, and even more by his unexpected announcement. There was no movement and not a sound for several moments. I think I awoke first, asking as I rose, "Will we need our coats?"

"No, no coats needed. If you'll just follow me," he added with a smile.

I circled behind Mary Beth and started for the door as Mr. Peterson opened it. Everyone else slowly returned from the land of human statues and began to follow along. Mr. Peterson led us into the hall, then down to the elevator that Mary Beth and I have been using to go up to our rooms.

After everyone gathered together, Mr. Peterson explained why we were there. "Because of your willingness to help someone in need and because of the space you'll need to accomplish your task, special consideration and arrangements have been made. You have all been granted access to this elevator. Your thumbprint on the control panel is required for access. Matilda, would you and Mary Beth take about half of the year down one level?”

Mary Beth looked at me funny. “Down one level?” I asked, making sure I’d heard correctly. Mary Beth and I had used this elevator several times during the last couple of days. The control panel had only three floor options; the upper floor, middle floor, and the main floor. There wasn’t a button to go down to anything below the main floor.

“That's correct, is there a problem?” Mr. Peterson asked. He could plainly see the puzzlement in our expressions.

"No sir, no problem at all," I replied. He obviously knew something I didn't.

Mary Beth placed her right thumb against the reader, there was a small hum, followed by the doors opening and we went inside. Eight others followed us into the elevator. The control panel had been changed; ‘B1’ was now an option. Mary Beth looked as surprised as I did. As the doors closed, I reached over and pressed the B1 button.

For the first time, I spent some time really examining the elevator’s control panel; the overall size, the arrangement of the floor buttons, and the placement of the Emergency, Door Open, and Door Closed buttons. My conclusion was that there is space for two additional basement levels. The question for me to find an answer to is; do those levels exist?

We reached the desired location and the doors opened. The others made a hasty exit, followed by me pushing Mary Beth. We all stood together in a small hall, if you wanted to call it that, as the doors closed and the elevator started back up.

As we made our exit from the elevator, we made a left turn, and went about ten feet, where our progress was stopped by a set of double doors, with a large glass windows. That was it; there wasn't anything else in the hall, well, except the smell of fresh paint. Oh, there was one other thing; above the double doors was a sign 'Year A Workshop'.

We only waited for a few moments before the elevator doors opened again, and the rest of year A surged into the tiny hallway, accompanied by Mr. Peterson. "Welcome to the Year A Workshop," Mr. Peterson announced. Looking around, he asked, "Abigail, being that you're next to the doors, would you mind placing your thumb on the control pad, to the right of the doors."

Abbey did as requested, the doors slid open and the lights came on.

"Thank you, and now if everyone would step inside? This door, like the elevator, has been programmed to respond to your thumbprints. Like the year A lounge, this workshop now belongs to you students. I believe that we've provided the tools for you to complete your project. If you find there's something else you need, all you need to do is ask me or send me a note. As for moving the components of your current project down here, I'll leave that up to you. Are there any questions?"

Looking around, and making some rough calculations, our workshop had a square footage equal to about half of one floor of the dormitory building. Near the doors were chairs and small tables, enough for everyone to sit comfortably, along with several rollaround white boards. Next, on one side of the room, were six or eight workbenches with a shelf above. Each shelf contained an assortment of gadgets. I had no idea what they were. On the other side of the room, were the same number of tall tables with thick wooden tops and assorted hand tools, on the shelf underneath. At the far end, was a collection of power tools. I recognized the table saw, the band saw, and the wood lathe. I wasn't familiar with the rest of the equipment. There was one other door leaving the workshop. Given that it had a plaque with both of the universal symbols, a male image and a female image, it had to be a restroom.

I guess that everyone was as shocked as I was, being that no body came up with any questions, well, at least there weren’t any worth remembering.

"Before I leave, I need to make sure everyone understands a couple of things. First, the use of this workshop is a privilege that you've earned; I will be very disappointed if you force me to revoke that privilege. Second, on the electronic workbenches, you will find a collection of test equipment and soldering equipment. The test equipment isn't considered dangerous, the soldering equipment can be. Christina, being the electronic specialist, will be responsible for teaching you how to use the equipment. Third, and probably most important, there is a large selection of power tools in this room. Where the soldering equipment can cause severe burns, the power tools can take off a finger, a hand, or an arm in a fraction of a second and without warning. Where is Hope?"

She slowly raised a hand. "Oh there you are. Hope, under the direction of Mr. Williams, is the safety director for this shop. No one is permitted to use a power tool until she has cleared you on that tool. Hope, Mr. Williams is expecting you tomorrow after breakfast, to go over the safety procedures that you'll be teaching everyone else.

"This wasn't meant to scare you, only to emphasize the importance of remembering to be safe and to be aware of those around you. We want them to be safe as well. Having one full time resident in my hospital is enough; I don't want to see any of you taking up residency there as well. Any questions now?"

After a few moments, Hope raised her hand.

"Yes, Hope."

"Am I supposed to teach everyone how to use the electronic stuff?"

"No, Christina will teach everyone how to run the electronic test equipment and the soldering equipment. You are responsible for teaching everyone how to properly, and safely operate the power tools. However, as the safety director, you are responsible for keeping track of who has been checked out on what equipment, both the power tools and the electronic. Does anyone else have a question?"

"Do we have to learn to run everything?" Niki asked.

"Of course not. Everything here is voluntary," Mr. Peterson replied with a chuckle. "You are free to learn and use any tool or equipment here. If you prefer, you can stick to the design phase and let someone else do the hands on work. I do insist that you be safe and get the proper instruction before using any equipment. Anyone else have a question?"

"What about supplies, buttons, circuit boards, things like that?" Aaron wanted to know.

Mr. Peterson went to the large double door cabinet against the wall between the workbenches. Opening the doors revealed a small electronic department store. Smiling he inquired, "Any other questions?"

There weren't any questions; I think most of us were in shock. I was astounded that Mr. Peterson would go to such lengths, giving us access to everything here, just so we could help Rachael. I couldn't help myself as I started crying.

"Matilda, what's wrong?" Mr. Peterson asked, as he gently dropped down to one knee.

Through my tears, I managed to reply, "Mr. Peterson, I can't believe that you arranged for all this, just to help Rachael."

Mr. Peterson gently put an arm around my shoulders, "This school takes care of its students. You've been here, off and on, for sometime now. You must know by now that the mental and physical safety of our students is our first priority."

"But Rachael isn't a student," I mumbled.

"You're right Matilda, Rachael isn't a student here, but you are." He gave me a hug, then stood up. "As it's almost time for choir practice, I'll leave you to get ready." With that, he slipped out the doors and into the elevator.

As I was still crying, Misa and Hope surrounded me, to offer their support, as well as taking me back to the lounge. I remember sitting on a couch, with Mary Beth hugging me from one side while Jenny sat on the other, holding my hand. I also remember Jenny sending everyone else to choir practice, telling them that we'd be there when I was ready.

I'm not sure how long we sat that way, because I wasn't paying attention. What was I doing besides crying and muttering? Was I conscious or had I lapsed into an unconscious state as I did on that first night with Nellie?

Oh, I was conscious, I was aware of everything; I was, however, a bit preoccupied with a little soul searching. All right, I was doing a lot of soul searching. I was reviewing my life from as far back as I could remember. I was searching for clues, little signs, pieces I'd overlooked that would help me to understand why everyone thinks I'm somehow special.

'I remember being upset when Rachael was born, I wanted a little brother to play with, Mom explained how special it was to have a little sister and how she would need a big brother to protect her. Sorry Mom, wrong on both counts; I 'm a failure in the big brother department, but as her big sister we've had a great time together. As for protecting my little sister, I kind of messed up there as well. I'm the one that needed protecting; good thing for me Mary Beth was around to protect me. I've always thought you had to be big and strong in order to protect someone else, but not any more. Being small and appearing innocent, mixed with being smart does have some advantages. I can use my knowledge to help and protect those that need it. I may not be responsible for Bart and the other bullies picking on those who can't defend themselves, but I am responsible for trying to stop them. I'm certainly no superhero, but I do have some special abilities and it's time to develop them and use them to help others. Oh no, where did that thought come from? The Mystical Munchkin, a Superhero. Hee, Hee, haw, haw,’ “Haw, haw, haw,” I was suddenly came out of my thinking spell, laughing.

Mary Beth was looking at me strangely, her expression said, “Matilda, have you lost your mind?” Jenny was still holding my hand, smiling.

"Hello," I greeted them with a smile. "What time is it?"

"It’s still early enough that we can make it to most of choir practice, if you're up to it," Aaron replied, from somewhere behind us.

"Oh, hi, Aaron, I didn't know you were still here," I commented. "Shall we go join in the singing?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" asked a very concerned Mary Beth.

"She is fine, Mary Beth," Jenny reported. "She was upset, trying to figure out why people treat her, as she refers to it, special. She did not black out this time, she tuned out. That is, she blocked out all outside stimuli and devoted all of her conscious self to resolving what she considered to be the most immediate problem. Her resolution is unique to say the least."

"Jenny, have you been holding my hand all this time?" She responded simply, with a smile and a nod of her head.

Remembering the conversation we'd had at the Halloween Ball, concerning her abilities I quietly, but calmly asked, "Jenny, have you been in contact with anyone else for this length if time?"

Jenny shook her head as she let go of my hand.

"Matilda, what does Jenny holding your hand have to do with anything?" Mary Beth wanted to know.

"Mary Beth, remember what I told you Monday morning, about Jenny's abilities and how they work?"

"Mary Beth," Jenny spoke, before Mary Beth had a chance, "Matilda is wondering if I can read her thoughts."

"Well?" I asked, being that Jenny hadn't answered the question.

"No Matilda, I cannot read your mind."

"Okay, if you can't read my mind, how did you know what question I wanted to ask?"

"Your feelings changed rapidly, as they frequently do. I felt that you were puzzled by something or felt strongly about a question. Wanting to know if I could read your thoughts seemed like the most logical question. At least considering the questions you already asked."

Laughing, Aaron jumped in, "Give up, Matilda; you have no idea how hard it is to keep a secret from her."

"I thought that study partners aren't supposed to have secrets?" Mary Beth asked Aaron, but she was looking at me.

'I wonder if Jenny and Aaron are ...'

"Oh, it’s not like that," Aaron clarified, "I've been helping Jenny develop her abilities by concentrating on something. She reads my feelings throughout the day, trying to figure out what I'm thinking about. It did take her a long time to figure out that I wanted a doll to sleeee, um ... for my special friend, instead of a teddy bear."

Jenny was giggling. When she stopped, she finished Aaron’s sentence, “Aaron is just a little embarrassed to have others know that he sleeps with his special friend. He really should not be embarrassed, as almost everyone here does.”

'That answers one question. I guess I'll have to be extra careful about guarding my feelings about Mary Beth, and the fact that we sleep together. That's probably something that only a few of the students would be doing. We'll just keep it quiet, no reason for anyone else to know.'

"Well, if were going to make it to choir practice before it's over, we'd better get going," I said, changing the subject. I quickly stood up and arranged the blanket in the wheelchair for Mary Beth.

Mary Beth got up from the couch and stood next to the wheelchair. Glumly, she asked, "How many days have I been in this, this thing?"

"Today is only the second day my friend," I confirmed softly.

"Great, only twenty-eight days to go," she moaned.

"Mary Beth, is there a problem with using a wheelchair for a month?" Jenny asked.

Mary Beth looked at the chair for a moment, took a deep breath, then she sat down and wrapped the blanket around her legs, "No, no problem, I just feel a little silly being pushed around like a baby. Come on, let’s get this land yacht moving," she ended with a smile.

I was going to offer her a lollipop if she was a good girl, but seeing the look of despair on her face I knew that now wasn't the time for teasing. Instead, I gave her my best 'I'm proud of you' smile as I gently patted her shoulder. I moved around behind and pushed towards the door and choir practice.

* * *

Thursday arrived without any bells, whistles, drum-rolls, or fanfare. Then again, why should there be anything unusual about today. It's just another day to everyone else; it's only special to Mary Beth and me. Today is our one-week anniversary. It’s been only one week but it seems like we've been here for a month. Looking back, I can say without any reservation, that this week had been the wildest roller coaster ride, emotionally, as well as the most eventful; week, of my short life. Mary Beth and I talked for a while about everything that's happened this last week. As we talked about the events of the last seven days, it felt more like a dream, although some parts almost seemed more like a nightmare. Talking about it made it almost seem like they didn't really happen, or even that they weren't important events, until you take into account that we're just a couple of ten-year-old girls. Well, I'm a girl where it counts, anyway. Time passed too quickly and soon we were going down to meet with the rest of the year.

When we arrived in the lounge, I noticed that all of the keyboard project material was missing. A quick question confirmed my suspicion that they'd been taken down to the workshop.

When we sat down to breakfast I was beginning to think the rest of the week would slide by without any more excitement. I mean after all, how much can you pack into one week?

'I suppose I'll have to stop asking myself these kinds of questions. Every time I do, the universe decides to show me just how wrong I can be.’

Mr. Peterson got up after everyone was settled; the five pink cuties from year C, along with their escorts, being the last to be seated.

"Good morning, everyone. I have two announcements this morning. First, there have been rumors circulating for several days that a committee of students will be planning our next field trip. For the record, this is correct. A student committee has been selected, and the students involved have been notified, so if you haven't been asked before now, don't worry about it. They will be planning the social activities for our next field trip. However, the time and location are not yet known.
Second item of business, it has been a while since we've done anything crazy, so I'm declaring tomorrow 'Freaky Friday'," Mr. Peterson was forced to pause because of the cheering from about half the assembly. "Settle down please ... Thank you. You all know the rules by now so I won't repeat them. Matilda, Mary Beth; Jenny or Aaron can fill you in. However, I'm changing it just a little, I want to see you all turn things up a notch. Therefore, the uniform of the day is 'Evening Wear'. Everyone is to be dressed as if you were going to attend one of our concerts. If you want haircuts or new a style, get your appointments made before we inform the older years. Are there any questions about the change?"

"There isn't any androgynous ‘Evening Wear’ in our closets," Niki reminded. "What should we do after dinner?"

"That does present a problem, let me think. ... I guess I'll have to specify the rules after all. That way everyone will know what I expect, being that I'm changing things. For everyone that normally presents themselves as feminine, you will appear as masculine during the day, changing to feminine before dinner and for the balance of the evening. Those who normally present themselves as masculine, will do likewise, only in reverse; that is feminine during the day and masculine in the evening. Let's see now, for those who appear androgynous, feminine until lunch, masculine from lunch to dinner. After dinner, you are free to choose how you wish to appear, masculine, feminine, or androgynous. As for androgynous evening wear, I'd recommend a pants suit of the gender of your choice, to which I would add a turtleneck blouse or shirt, with a gender-neutral necklace. Does that sound like an acceptable compromise to everyone? And did anyone write that down, so I can give the same instructions to years D through H when I see them?"

Mr. Peterson's second question brought forth a round of giggles from almost everyone in attendance. His first question was only met with nods of acceptance. As for myself, I wasn't sure if I needed to participate, because, well ... I knew what life was like as a boy and I knew I wanted to be a girl. After all, I'm Matilda by choice, and that's all I want to be. Before saying anything to Mary Beth or the others, I decided to discuss the matter with Ellen during tonight's regular appointment.

"Good evening," Ellen greeted us as we entered her office. "How has your day been?"

As I was closing the door, Mary Beth almost jumped out of her chair, both hands in a fist and on her hips. She was almost yelling as she demanded, “Ellen, do I have to dress up like a boy?"

'Where on earth did that come from? She didn't say anything, or give me any indication that she was upset. I thought I would have the biggest issue to resolve, changing back into Matt. I guess I'm not as observant as I thought I was.'

"Matilda, are you going to join us," Ellen called out, interrupting my thoughts.

"Sorry, just thinking," I replied, as I joined Mary Beth on one of the couches. Ellen was seated in her customary chair.

"Now then Mary Beth," Ellen started, "what exactly is the problem."

"Well ... I'm a girl and I like being a girl. I don't want to be a boy. I've never even thought of being a boy," she complained.

"That’s wonderful Mary Beth. I have a question, who said you should be a boy?" Ellen asked.

"I guess nobody said I should be a boy, but ..."

Ellen interrupted her, "That’s correct, no one has said anything about you being a boy. You are free to choose to be what you wish. As for myself, I was born female and I'm very happy with who I am. Now let's take a look at our friend Matilda, here. She was born with a male body, but her mind is female. She can choose to represent herself as male or female. She can, if she chooses, change back and forth any time she desires, or any time it is appropriate to do so."

"That's all well and good for Matilda, but I'm not her. I like being a girl. I don't see why I should have to dress up like a boy," Mary Beth argued.

"Mary Beth," Ellen continued softly, "there are opposites in every aspect of life; night and day, right and wrong, masculine and feminine. As with the rest of life, there are opposites in our personalities. Everyone displays the different sides of their personalities, usually without being aware of the differences. By having activities, such as Freaky Friday, we help our students realize what actions are perceived as masculine and feminine. By understanding your expressions and actions, as well as experiencing a little of life from the opposite side of the fence, you are better equipped to make the choices that will affect every aspect of your life, not only how you wish to present yourself, but also how you treat others. Does this explanation help you understand?"

"I think so … It sounds a little like the moccasin thing," Mary Beth agreed, trying to relate what Ellen had said to something she understood.

Ellen looked a little puzzled by Mary Beth's reference.

I explained. "We're told it’s an old Indian saying, but I'm not really sure, I suppose not everyone has heard it. Anyway it goes something like, ‘to truly understand how someone feels, you must first walk a mile in their moccasins.’"

"Yes, that's an interesting concept, also, a non-clinical way of explaining the basic idea. Yes, I like it. I guess we can all learn from each other."

"So what you're saying is, I have to dress and act like a boy, just so I can learn how the other half feels?" Mary Beth asked softly.

"That's pretty much correct. Think of this as a way to get in touch with the other side of your personality," Ellen explained further. “It’s also a way for you to better understand how other people feel, people … like Matilda. Most transgendered people have to dress in a way opposite to the way they feel about themselves. Some of them never have the opportunity to express themselves as the person they truly believe themselves to be.”

"Ellen, I think you answered Mary Beth's question, even if she didn't like the answer. I was wondering, because I've experienced life as a boy, such as it was, do I need to change back into Matt for the day?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh Matilda, this will be an even better experience for you, than it will be for Mary Beth. Your past life as Matt wasn't a normal, positive, growing experience. I want you to forget about your past; Matt doesn't exist any more. You did a wonderful job of creating a feminine name for yourself, to fit your new life. Now, I want you to create a name for the masculine side of your personality. You refer to August 15 as Matilda's birthday. What you need to do is to think of this as the birth of your new male self. Perhaps you should consider a different hairstyle, maybe even a different color. I know it's late, but I have a little pull with Amanda, and I know she'd like seeing you again. What do you think?"

"You mean there are some good things about being a boy?"

"Yes Matilda, there are some good things about being a boy," Ellen affirmed, with a giggle.

"Well, I still don't think this is a good idea. It's really no fun being teased ..."

"Matilda," Ellen interrupted, " Has anyone abused or ridiculed you about your size, or because you're smart?"

"Well, no."

"Has anyone said or done anything to make you feel bad about you dressing the way you want?"

"No."

"And no one will! Your life with us will be nothing like it was before. Everything you've experienced this week should be proof of that."

"Well, I had been thinking that this week has been more than a little crazy," I confessed.

"Would that be a good crazy, or a bad crazy?" Ellen questioned.

"Hmm, I guess that would be a good crazy," I softly replied.

"Yeah? Well, I haven't decided yet," Mary Beth added, looking at her wheelchair.

"She isn't happy about the wheelchair," I told Ellen softly.

"Well," Ellen looked sympathetically at Mary Beth, "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that. When it comes to the health and physical well-being of the students, nobody overrules Dr. Harris. The only advice I can offer is; when you feel bad about being temporarily confined to a wheelchair, think about how our friend Rachael feels about laying in bed all day. What would she give for the option to use a wheelchair, having her friends take her from place to place?"

"I know I'm lucky that Bart didn't do more damage. And I know I need to think about others and how they feel. I’m trying to be positive, but … it's just that it’s ... well, hard to remember sometimes," Mary Beth admitted.

"I understand," Ellen said, with a smile.

I responded to Mary Beth's confession with a hug.

"All right, have we taken care of your concerns about tomorrow?" Ellen asked.

Mary Beth and I looked at each other, I still had my arms around her. Trying to read each other’s thoughts, it didn't work. Mary Beth offered half of a smile and I smiled back. We turned towards Ellen and nodded.

"Excellent! I look forward to meeting two fine young men in the morning. After you’ve decided on a male name to use, remember to update your school profile. That way everyone will know who you are. Now, are you okay with your hair, or do I need to make some arrangements with Amanda?"

"I know I'm going to need some help," Mary Beth confessed. "I have no idea how to make all this hair look like it should be on a boy’s head, and there's no way I'm cutting it all off."

"Not to worry. Amanda does amazing things with hair. You've seen how long Beca's hair is and how handsome Joseph's hair looks? Just some tricks of how to style hair," Ellen explained, as she produced her PDA and started tapping away. "How about you, Matilda, need some help with a new look?"

"What do you think Mary Beth, how would I look in short black hair?"

"Yuck, no way, that would be horrible on you. I think your natural hair color is perfect for you. In fact, I can't wait for your hair to grow out so you don't need to wear a wig anymore. We just need to work on your male personality."

"I guess it's settled then, only one appointment is needed. I'd like to go along though," I replied to Ellen's question.

"Very well, I’ll arrange for one appointment and one visitor. Amanda will send you a note, letting you know when she can see you. Are there any other issues we should discuss?"

"I have a question," Mary Beth replied, almost in a whisper. "Do I have to wear boy’s underwear?"

Before Ellen could answer, I added my question, "And what about being, um … tucked?"

"To answer both your questions, that's up to you. However, most boys don’t wear panties, and most boys don’t know what it means to be tucked."

‘Does that mean yes or no? I think I’m going to have to ask Ellen if she has a magic decoder ring to go along with her answers, some of them are so hard to understand.’

"Anything else Mary Beth?" I asked.

"No, I guess not. I'm still not sure I like the idea, but at least I feel better about it," she replied.

"We’d better get going then, we're late for choir practice again," I stated as I got up and circled around behind the wheelchair.

"Oh-my-goodness, is it that late all ready?" Ellen exclaimed. "Mrs. Taylor is going to get a little cross with me if I keep you this late every time we meet. I'd better send her another note of apology. I look forward to seeing two young men in the morning."

"Um, yeah," Mary Beth replied.

"Good night Ellen, thank you." I guess I was feeling a little better.

Halfway through choir practice, I felt my PDA vibrate; it's a good thing it vibrates along with the beep on an incoming message, I never would have heard a beep. Amanda's note told us to meet her in the salon immediately after practice.

"Matilda, it's so good to see you again," Amanda said, as we entered the salon. "And this young lady must be Mary Beth."

"I must be," Mary Beth replied with a giggle.

"Why don't you have a seat in the first chair and we'll see what there is to work with," Amanda requested. "Matilda why don't you hop into the second chair? That way you can watch what I'm doing. Mary Beth may need another pair of hands and eyes, adjusting things in the morning."

Amanda undid the ribbons that held up Mary Beth's hair, letting it fall to its full length. "My goodness, you certainly have a lot of hair. Would you like an estimate?"

Of course, I recognized the reference; Mary Beth on the other hand, rotated and looked at Amanda. I've seen her ‘are you crazy?’ look before, and I couldn’t resist the urge to giggle.

Amanda looked serious as she replied, "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? ... Dick VanDyke? ... The fair, the automatic hair-cutting machine? I can see I'm dating myself again. Oh well," Amanda sighed, as she turned Mary Beth around. "Let's start with a little trim, you really should take better care of your hair. You've got a little problem with split ends. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take off three or four inches? It would make the process of changing hairstyles a little easier.”

“How often do we have this Freaky Friday thing?” Mary Beth asked.

“Usually once a month. There are some other events from time to time just to keep things interesting,” Amanda went on.

“Um, I’ll think about it later. For right now, I like my hair this long. So what can you do with long girl’s hair that will let her look like a boy?

Amanda worked her magic; the hair that hung on the side of Mary Beth’s head was carefully combed back, then pinned, and almost woven under and into the hair on top. Everything then cascaded down the back to a single black rubber band at the back of her neck. The real trick was how she worked the hair in from the sides so it doesn’t look long. Her overall hairstyle reminded me of the Hippies from late 60’s, Mom used to show me pictures of that time.

It was well after our curfew as Mary Beth and I made our way back to our rooms. Not wanting to attract any attention, we silently made our way from the administration building, around the E and F dorm, past the G and H dorm, and finally it was a straight shot to our building. Just as we were passing the end of the G and H dorm, I heard some talking and some almost stifled laughter coming from … somewhere. I looked at Mary Beth, to see if she’d heard it as well. Silently she confirmed that what I’d heard wasn’t my imagination. After looking around and confirming that there wasn’t anyone is sight, I pointed in the direction of the back of the G and H dorm, asking if we should take a look. Mary Beth nodded her consent so I changed course and we headed for the back corner of the building. It’s a good thing that the wheels on Mary Beth’s chair don’t squeak. As we approached the corner, I stopped and Mary Beth got out of the chair, you just can’t peek around a corner from the seated position.

As we peeked around the corner, I was bending low, because I’m smaller, and Mary Beth was stretching for the high position. We saw what appeared to be four girls standing just outside the door. Their location would have kept them hidden from all the windows of our dorm as well as their own, and if we hadn’t been late getting back, there’s no way we would have heard or seen them. I recognized Suzanne as one of the four. I also recognized another one of the girls, but didn’t know her name. The other two girls I’d never seen before. As I was studying their faces, a small van approached from the other end of the building. The girls stopped talking when they noticed it; they quietly boarded the van after it came to a stop.

I moved back and motioned for Mary Beth to move as well. Quietly and apparently undetected, we made our way back to our rooms.

“Well what do you make of that?” Mary Beth asked, as soon as we were in her room.

“Obviously those four are part of the mystery group that everyone was talking about. Did you recognize any of them?” I asked.

“Of course! One of them was Suzanne. I’ve been singing next to her for three days now, I should be able to recognize her.”

As we were discussing what we’d seen, my PDA beeped. It was a note from Aaron,

“Pretty gutsy peaking around the corner
of the building. Tomorrow we’ll have to
discuss your curfew violating activities.
Get some sleep: Aaron”

“So much for staying out of trouble,” I sighed.

“At least Amanda can confirm that we were with her until 10:20.”

“Yes, but if Aaron saw us over by the other building, there’s a good chance that someone else did.”

“You don’t think Aaron will turn us in for curfew violation, do you?”

“I don’t know … He and Jenny are the year leaders and they are responsible for what goes on,” I shook my head.

“Oh well, we’ll just have to deal with that in the morning. Have you thought of a name to use?”

“I’ve been thinking about it and I think I know what name I want to use, but I figure I need your permission.”

“My permission … to use a name. Why would you need my permission?” she asked me.

“Because I wouldn’t want you to be sad or upset.”

“Now why would I be sad or up set?”

“Well, if I use the name I’m thinking of, you might be.”

“Matilda, you’re being more confusing than usual, would you stop beating up on the bushes and get to the point.”

“I was thinking, who is the kindest boy I know, someone who would help anyone, and who gives of himself without asking for anything in return …”

“I thought you didn’t want to use Matt?”

“No, I don’t want to use Matt; he was always scared and picked on by everyone. Well, almost everyone.”

“Well from my point of view, you just described the Matt that I knew. Let me think, oh, you want to use Paul Smith, the cute boy from the fifth grade?”

“Noo,” I moaned, “I said kind and giving, not cute and stuck on himself.”

“Matilda, would you just come out with it and tell who you’re talking about.”

“All right, I’m talking about Jeffery, OK? Your little brother Jeffery,” I cried out as I hid my face in my hands.

Mary Beth gently lifted my head. I was sure she’d be mad at me, as if I were making fun of her or Jeffery. When I opened my eyes, besides a tear escaping, I saw Mary Beth smiling at me.

“Now tell me, why should I be mad or upset if you use my brother’s name?”

“Because every time someone calls me Jeffery, you’ll be reminded that you can’t see you family until we leave here.”

“Matilda, I would be honored if you used Jeffery, and I know my brother would be honored as well, if he ever finds out. Remember, he is the only one in my family that accepted you.”

“You mean it won’t bother you?”

“No, of course not! You have my permission to use my brother’s name.”

I hugged my dear friend for what seemed like forever. As we separated, I gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, Mary Beth. He is the nicest boy I know.”

“Well then, it will fit you perfectly, because you’re the nicest girl that I know. Oh, I thought you were supposed to warn me before you kissed me again,” she giggled.

“Oops! Sorry about that, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, we’re not in public, so I’ll let it go this time,” Mary Beth said with a grin.

“What about you, have you come up with a name to use?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes I have.”

“Well?”

“I’ve decided on Hunter.”

“Hunter, where did you get a name like Hunter?”

“There’s this movie that came out a while ago, about a man who wanted to help people so much, he almost didn’t graduate from medical school.”

“You’re going to have to give me a better clue than that,” I confessed.

“Kazuntite.”

I thought for a moment, “Oh, the Kazuntite Institute, Robin Williams in ‘Patch Adams’. Rather, Hunter ‘Patch’ Adams. Not bad Mary Beth, not bad at all, in fact I think it fits you perfectly.”

“Thank you Jeffery. You update our profiles, as Ellen told us to do. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Right away, Hunter, this will only take a moment and then I’ll be ready for bed as well. Which bed are we sleeping in tonight?”

“Well now that we’re both boys, sleeping together sounds kind of yucky.”

I knew better, but I figured if she was in a teasing mood, then I could oblige, “That’s fine, if that’s the way you feel about it,” I said sadly, as I went though the door to my room. “I guess it’ll be just Nellie and me tonight,” As I closed the door, I distinctly heard Mary Beth blowing raspberries at me. Giggling, I went into my bathroom, took care of business as I updated our profiles. I got ready for bed and loaded the scripture-reading program. I set Nellie beside me as I started reading.

I’d only read five verses when there was a knock on the door. “Entré S'il Vous Plaá®t,” I called out.

Mary Beth entered; her choice of nightwear hadn’t changed, she still likes the short baby-doll nighties.

“That’s a little on the feminine side, isn’t it Hunter,” I teased.

“Oh hush up. You’re one to talk, all covered in frills and lace. Where are we?” she asked, referring to the scriptures.

Our nightly routine completed, we crawled into my bed.

‘I still hadn’t made a decision on the issue of what to wear tomorrow, or how to wear it. I guess I’ll decide that tomorrow.’

* * * To Be Continued * * *

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