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Because I love you, he said that about me is this kid nuts? Do I dare go into his room? What if he follows me inside? The lock on the door enables him to trap me. I turn and stare at Andrew he looks as nervous as I feel inside. “Go on out to the porch and wait until I close the door.” He smiles without a word walking outside like I requested. I scurry into the room close the door and lock it sitting quickly on the bed. What I see shocks me there are two sealed packages one containing a bra and another new panties. He was not kidding these are new unopened and my size. Still trying to piece all this strangeness together I finger through a stack of jeans. “Are you shitting me? Look at these things.” I heard myself saying those words aloud shivering. I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities. “What next, do I sit here waiting to see an ax blade rip through a door panel?” In my mind images of a deranged replica of Jack Nicholson arrives shredding the panel door. Those are the thoughts spoken and unspoken that are racing in my head. I want answers. He is not going to get away with that limp wristed spiel he threw at me. These five jeans together cost more than five hundred dollars.

I read the labels seeing Royal Blue, Revolt, Piper's Closet, Vigold and Paris Blues. This is a princess’ dream so I carefully pick up the Paris Blues and the undies then head into the shower. He did not lie there is an inside lock on the door. About fifteen minutes later I exit the shower and dress. The undies and the jeans fit perfectly but my blouse is ruined covered with ugly red smears. What am I going to do now? Mom is going to pitch a fit. I am distracted from my worry when accidentally catching my reflection in the bed room mirror. These jeans look amazing I cannot believe such a collection of rad clothes in a boy’s room. These clothes feel almost sensual while looking amazing appearing as if they are a second skin. I gather my thoughts unable to rationalize any of this. I want some answers.

Lyons is sitting on the sofa staring at the floor when I come out. “Thanks for the shower I really appreciate it. But I can’t take all those jeans they are far too expensive. Mom will ask too many questions and you won’t want me to tell her the truth. I won’t lie to her. I will borrow this pair and return them at school tomorrow.” Surprisingly he offered no answer while forcing a defeated nod. “What’s wrong Andy? You look bummed out.”

“Your blouse is ruined. I got one in the closet just like it. Go put it on your mother won’t know the difference.” His answer surprises me yet again. Here I expected some girly whine sounding like woe is me considering the mother lode of awesome costly jeans he laid out on his bed.

“Thanks,” I say unable to come up with anything else. When I open his closet there are dozens of high end girl clothes hanging there. I thumb through finding the blouse. He is right it is the same yellow scoop neck Carhartt sleeveless blouse. Naturally it is in my size. I put it on picking up the pile of dirty ruined clothes and carry them to the living room. Once again Andrew surprises me by taking the dirty laundry from my hands walking toward the kitchen. “The laundry room is out here,” he says softly.

His speech is neutral almost without affect. I chase after him about to protest but he has already begun to roll on a spot cleaner rubbing it into the ketchup stains. I did not see the label but it is the green tube like the one mom has. Andy rubbed in the spot remover on all my clothes and popped them into the washer. “I can give you a ride home while those are washing. I will bring them to school tomorrow.”

“Andy,” I say “What’s going on? You have a closet full of rad clothes better than the queen bees in our school. You live alone without any females. Don’t tell me they are something delivered by mistake. They obviously fit you and I’m guessing you wear them.”

He has that deer in the headlights expression where the only thing I can think of is to take his hand leading him to the couch. “Sit.” I used my no nonsense mom voice while fighting back a laugh. The little boy in him casts eyes toward the floor silently complying. I sat next to him holding his hand. “I want you to tell me what is going on there is certainly something strange happening. Are you gay or just a cross dresser?” I recalling seeing that soapstone skirt hanging in his closet. I thought how great it would look. I mentioned it to Andi telling him, “It surely would bring out the color in my green eyes.” Before I could finish he interrupted.

“Jean if you like it you can have it.”

Shaking my head I refused to let him deflect. “No I said yes it would look good with my eyes, in other words your eyes. I want you to put it on along with a blouse that goes with it. Don’t forget panties, bra and those breasts forms you have sitting on your dresser. For the record I did not miss seeing them. Then you can tell me what in hell is going on. Hurry up I’m dying for answers and you are not going to get away without providing them. Don’t forget to brush your hair out just like mine.”

He froze terrified but did not voice any objections. His presentation is like a guy who got caught, caught because he wanted to get caught. Andy could have hid all of this stuff. If he wanted I would not have seen any of it. I suddenly realized he hoped I’d discover his stash. Wow with that conclusion I’m feeling like I’m Nancy Drew. He walked into his room closing the door and I waited. My mind raced half furious with how he spent this entire school year watching me saying nothing. I thought I was the target of a stalker now I know it is something else. Yes it is something else, he wants to be me. I should run like hell this kid is nuts. He said he loved me. I did hear that didn’t I? Sure he loves me a boy who tries to look like me. That’s every girl’s dream to have a boyfriend she can swap skirts with. On second thought if he could squeeze out the kids in nine months he is the perfect boyfriend. I mean me having to do it is an ugly thought.

I sit here in the living room waiting forever convincing myself he chickened out. No matter what, I promised myself I will not laugh. He treated me better today than anyone in that school ever did. With the creaking sound of the door opening I slowly turn intending to fight off my expected giggles. I’m not laughing. I see Andy standing there he is not wearing the soapstone skirt. Instead I see and believe me when I say I’m not laughing. Andi or should I say Andréa wearing a cotton jersey knit. It is a very comfortable looking V-neck in Petal pink. The sleeveless Carhartt top looks so casual on him. I gasp when noticing his delicate arms. I simply adore the color on her. What can I say? I’m almost mute managing only a weak “Turn around.”

The blouse is perfect with the skirt he selected. Lyons turns slowly while blushing. I saw this skirt advertised recognizing it because in a pity moment I wanted it. I almost forgot my ban on skirts. My ban on allowing easy access to ravaging hands had relaxed for that one weak moment. Here he is showing off the Sidekick skirt. What I really like about this one is those slant hand side pockets and welt back pockets. Though the way it caresses his figure it’s not like you can slide anything into those pockets beyond fingers.

I reach out touching the bodice of the skirt as he continues his slow turn, the material must be a blend of cotton and polyester as to the touch it almost turns me on. I can tell the way his blouse rides just over the skirt’s waist band it is settling slightly below the waist. Its length is a sexy two inches above dare I say it, pretty knees. Andréa went all out wearing a pair of Mary Janes with a chic, stylish, cork wrapped wedge heel. They are fitted with a leather over strap. The textile upper body is luxuriant supple brown. Hook and eye asymmetric strap wraps over the top of the foot. The shoes feature cork wrapped wedge mid sole and heel with a rubber outsole.

“You look fantastic Andréa.” I caught her blush when she heard my compliment noting how I enunciated a feminine version of her name. My sudden change in pronoun use describing Andréa is deliberate. There is no male anywhere in this room. I could not help myself and hugged her whispering, “Thank you for trusting me.” Without another word I literally dragged Andréa to what I guessed was her parent’s room. I’d been poking around when spotting a bed room with a vanity. “Sit down,” I ordered pointing to the makeup table.

Andréa is sitting quietly looking embarrassed having been forced to come out in front of me. I promised myself to be gentle. Using a brush I feathered her hair repairing both side and forehead bangs. Very carefully I touched up the eye liner she obviously applied earlier. “Ok stand up next to me.” She did again very slowly acting as if she is about to cry. I placed my hands on her shoulder turning her to face the mirror. Then I stood next to Andréa “Ok sport I’m going to take inventory you keep focused on that mirror.”

Standing shoulder to shoulder I asked her, “Do you notice we are the same height? Don’t answer just say check if you agree.” So I hear her assent coming back as “check.”

“Do you notice your eyes are exactly like mine? Yet you say you did nothing to them. Just like your hair. Let me remind you it looks nothing like it did on Friday. Yet you say you did nothing to your hair. You can see we are fucking twins. Sit down on the edge of this bed and start talking.”

Once again Andréa complied, sitting on the edge of the bed her luscious legs dangling. I almost kissed her as I sat as close as I could dying to hear this story. I braced myself not expecting the wild tale about to come out of her mouth. I cannot look at my twin calling her Andrew. That will not compute in my confused brain. Andréa begins slowly almost whispering in a delicate voice. I know if she speaks with some volume it will sound just like me. So a hushed frightened soft voice is easier on my shocked mind.

I hear about her spam mail invitation to Sanctuary House and a vampire like persona she called Bela. I wanted to laugh holding back for fear of freaking her out. I want to hear the story even if I don’t believe it. From what I read cross dressers tell some whoppers to avoid ridicule. I learned about the free clothes which itself is bull. Nobody gives away thousands in clothes without a catch. The story of the island and the dreamy guy who provided golf lessons a lunch date and a dance sounded like an imaginative. I wanted to interrupt with a wise remark but did not at least at this moment. Andréa interrupts her story asking, “You don’t believe me do you?”

“Andréa, look I’m a girl who guys used to hit on I almost got raped. The way you describe this Troy fellow he was after something you didn’t do anything gay did you? I promise I won’t judge you but you could not give him what he wanted. Was he gay and you guys,” I could not say the words. The hurt in Andréa’s eyes bore through me. I stopped myself allowing my words to hang. I sensed Andréa is about to let loose in a flood of tears. I pushed too far knowing all that remains, all I can do is hold her in my arms mumbling, “I’m sorry,” at least a hundred times. Andréa feels so soft, so vulnerable in my arms. We rocked together for several minutes in silence.

What happened next almost caused me to run out the door screaming. Andréa stood stepping back two or three paces. She dropped her skirt to the floor standing in her panties. ‘What the hell is this kid up to? The last thing I want to see is her appendage. She is about to ruin the entire mood.’ My shocked expression registered somewhere in her confused brain because she froze simply standing there in her panties. I could tell she wanted to go further but is having doubts. A lot of girls are curious and really would like a closeup view of an appendage. Virgins like me, an almost eighteen year old one are somewhat doubtful about that. I am having enough trouble with who I am. I don’t need this, I don’t want it then I notice something. She is wearing nylon or silk panties. They are white and very thin. We girls are fully aware of how thin nylon panties are. This is what strikes me Andréa is flat no bulge, no impression of a snake hiding ready to strike.

Andréa smiles touching my arm as if trying to calm me without words. I tried to protest but she dropped her panties to the floor. Now she is crying and my eyes are as big as any anime character. What I am looking at is shocking. As the guys have taken to refer to as their junk her’s is missing totally not there. She did not tuck it someplace she does not have one. There is only a slight depression with a small opening about the size of a, well of a what I’m not sure.

“I’m so sorry, God Andréa forgive me.” The shock from my eyes caused her to pull up her panties and skirt quickly. She sat on the edge of the bed trembling. I hugged her stoking her hair soothing her. Wanting to ask but not daring. I remembered Andrew Lyons said he loved me. Andrew is not a stalker what Andréa just revealed to me is beyond trust. I took her in my arms without any further hesitation I pressed my lips to hers. My first ever kiss and it is with a girl. ‘Mom this will make you so freaked out. Why is it not freaking me out?’ While my conflicted brain is processing all of this my hungry lips are continuing a passionate kiss. It is long, slow and tender definitely turning me on. We held each other for sometime until she finally spoke. “You hate me.”

Then that vision in the cafeteria came rushing back. Me cupping Andréa’s breasts while she stroked my, I purged that thought. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Now it is me trembling. I pull myself together answering him or her.

“Andréa I do not hate you in fact I could grow to love you. Whether you realize it or not we have a unique bond. I want you to tell me about this Sanctuary thing.” I gently probe knowing I’d have a difficult time talking about a sexual encounter. I draw on the idea we are twins perhaps Andréa can discuss details. “What did happen with Troy last weekend?”

A wary countenance washed across his face. Shit I keep screwing up the pronouns. Let me repeat a wary countenance washed across her face. What can I expect? I’m fully aware Andrew Lyons is a guy. Is a guy without junk and a bottom looking like mine. Can I really call Andréa a guy? A guy who lusted over me for years and here he sits presenting as Andréa very far from any guy I’ve ever known. If you think Lyons is messed up imagine what I’m going through.

“Jean I was wearing a little black dress so sexy it scared the shit out of me. You saw those breasts forms. They look real and with a push up bra the strapless bare shouldered dress screamed girl. Worse yet the whispering included descriptors like beautiful girl. We danced close. I’m wearing heels for the first time. Rather than being clumsy, tripping all over the place I glided effortlessly. His hand rested on my hip sliding down silky material causing me to feel moist. I did not know what that meant until later.”

“He drove that silly golf cart. I did not see any other type vehicle at the resort so perhaps that is all they allow. When he drove me back to the bungalow I am as excited as I’ve ever been. I wanted desperately to let him jump my bones. I realized that is not possible and what is possible disgusted me. I politely declined inviting him in noticing his surprise. I also noticed his excitement telling me of what he expected. When he kissed me I did not object, I confess I wanted more. It was when his fingers touched my breasts I felt a pulsing like my nipple grew taut. Plastic nipples cannot grow taut. I kept my cool and begged off. Too afraid to explore further I went to bed not looking at myself. I swear it was only a simple game and a test to see if I could get in with that phony persona.”

“When I woke up Sunday morning I got out of there earlier than I had to and even that did not help me avoid Troy. He wants to meet the next weekend for a special Halloween treat. You know he is going to try harder to get me in bed. He said something odd telling me I can invite a male friend. If he wants to screw my brains out why bring a male friend along? I’m scared shitless especially when I got up Monday for school discovering these residual effects as they call them.”

I listened to this unbelievable story with the evidence before my eyes. Denial is not going to work. Even a hard core isolationist can’t ignore what she sees. “What happened on Monday morning?”

“Jean you can see the results. I had short hair on Friday and when I woke up my hair is a duplicate of your’s. Hair can’t grow that fast while changing color and the sandman is not a stylist. You saw my junk disappeared. How in the hell is that possible?”

Andréa is on the verge of freaking out. Instinctively I draw her into my arms holding the girl gently to reassure. My thoughts once again conflict me as my curiosity rises to a dangerous level. My thoughts repeatedly reject any desire of me, Jean Phillips making out with a female. That evil voice returned urging me to take her. I shut my mind locking the voice out. When you consider the message it confirms my belief, to be a girl is to be used. Ever since that pig assaulted me acting as if he is entitled to screw any female; that notion has grown in my mind. At that moment I was convenient. He did not care about me all he wanted was a compliant vagina to dump his seed. Until that point I prided myself for being pretty and worked at presenting the same as the perfect ten in our school. That night everything ended raising my defenses.

“Look Andréa I’m asking for a big favor this week you can bring a male friend right?”

“Yes do you want to fake being a guy? I warning you don’t do it.”

“Why not? You are turning into me. Why can’t I see what it’s like to be you? I will need a picture of you before these changes to make an avatar.”

She told me the avatar of Andrew Lyons is already attached to the card. Again she warned me this is dangerous. She backtracked repeating the read me file that came with a million disclaimers.

“Jean it said quite clearly the residual effects may fade over time. There is no research to predict what effects if any will appear.”

I’m not letting go of this. “What is the worst thing that can happen? Your junk may return but I doubt it. You seem to be growing a vagina. You looked shocked. I have had my own for eighteen years. I know what they look like and what you have is a close facsimile incomplete but close. Let’s say you keep progressing in this direction. Would it bother you?”

Andréa’s answer surprised me when she said for the last four years she admired me from afar. She did not understand her feelings she interpreted as love. Her conflict raised questions over why I never wore skirts or dresses. She wanted me to prove to the world how pretty I am. This caused me to blush and possibly feel a bit guilty. Then her comments raised concern while suggesting my curiosity may not be ridiculous after all. Andréa told me she found herself jealous wanting to be as pretty as me knowing it is not possible. Then her next comment shattered me.

“You know when I was in my bungalow Saturday night I realized I became a complete replica of you. A lot of guys would jump at the opportunity to be a pretty girl for a weekend, as long as they can escape on Monday morning. It is a curiosity thing that drives a hidden desire. What do you think they’d do? Don’t answer, we both know.”

I giggle when hearing this confession. “It’s okay Andréa it is only natural that you would, how do I put this? Explore my body; one you wanted for four years believing you could never explore me. I understand I’m not angry.” I held the confused almost girl tightly. Then Andréa floored me.

“You don’t understand and please do not hate me or think I am awful. The first thing I did was try on every skirt and dress admiring Jean in the mirror. At some point I discovered the breasts forms were real totally freaking me out. They could not be removed and pulling on them hurt like hell. I touched your breasts gently with my fingers. Yes they came alive and I felt shame for doing that. I know I was not the real you but it felt like you were there. I instantly threw on a silky sleep shirt and the feeling set me on fire. I never did remove your panties to explore. God how I wanted to but I could not violate the girl I loved. Then it dawned on me I wanted to be you. I ache to be you.”

My trembling body holds Andréa close and I feel shallow breathing and her chests rising and falling. Our lips meet again as we fall to the bed. Resisting doing something totally weird denying any lesbian tendencies I sit up. “Andy, I have to do this. I owe it to you. That may sound strange but what happens if you do turn to me. How in hell can you explain it? Can I go with you on Halloween?”

“You are playing with fire. I am afraid what may result from this.”

“Relax Andréa if I come back looking like you, you move into my house with my parents. Believe me they do not know they presently have twins. You can fool them. I will teach you all you need to know to settle in. If I have your junk I expect we can have a lot of fun. Just so you know I’m a virgin and not on the pill.” I sense fear rising in Andréa’s eyes then calm comes over her.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Pick me up at my house on Halloween. Then we will switch. You dress like me and I dress like you. I can then go try this place out for the day. My parents will never allow me to go away for a week end.”

Andréa appeared horrified as if I asked her to jump off a bridge. “Why do you want to try this thing out as a guy? You are beautiful and have great parents who love you.”

I tried to make a joke of it. “It looks like those residual changes are not going away. Just think if I can grow my own junk turning into me we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. It sure as hell looks like you are not finished turning into me. What being a girl scares you? I can assure you your changes scare me as well. You are turning into me perhaps I can return the favor.”

He looked at me like I was joking and for a moment I think I am as well. In the end Andréa agreed to play Jean while I played at being Andrew. I still don’t believe it. Suddenly I am not so sure as I’m on the verge of chickening out. Andrew said something that shook me to the core, he said my parents love me. When I think about it I love them and don’t want to cause those wonderful people pain.

By this time my clothes are dried and all the stains are out. Andréa folds them neatly placing them in a large plastic bag one you use for lawn waste. I am still torn by conflict pulling me in several directions. Suppose this hairbrained scheme were to actually work. Do I want to give Andréa my parents and become him? I don’t think so would I like his body, that is easy to answer, yes. I snap from my fretting tossing out a few wise ass comments. “Andréa someday you will make a great housewife. Can I still keep those Jeans? Oh from now on stay away, from Troy.”

I am carrying my clothes out to Andréa’s cute little ugly car. Yes, it is both cute and ugly. The thing is rather noisy and resembles something thrown together as an after thought. I always pictured myself driving a cool sports car. I know that is a pipe dream. If the truth be known the likelihood is Jean Phillips will end up driving a mini van filled with screaming kids. It will be my old man who has the cool car. I promise myself that will not happen. I catch Andréa’s expression questioning her, “Problem, is something bothering you? You forgot to change by the way. Uh, don’t bother that outfit looks great on you.”

Andréa freezes several steps from the car looking down checking herself out just like a girl. After she nearly freaks almost running into the house she settles. One of my pity comments must have brought her back to this reality. How can I call it reality? It is what it is the new girl by my side is scared shitless.

“I can’t do this, this pretending to be you. I’m not going to allow you to give up your life to become me. I can’t let you toss away everything you have forget that idea” Now it is my turn to freeze hearing him waffle. It means my chance to escape the monthly mess while doomed to a destiny of frilly clothes, primping and spitting out kids is crashing down on me. “Are you saying you will not let me use your guy pass?” My voice must have sounded as if I’m pleading like a pathetic little girl. I could see it in his face. I open the car door sliding into the cramped space still searching her face.

“Jean what if I go as the guy to get my old self back? We could be friends, Andy and Jean. Things will get better neither one of us will be miserable. What do you say?”

I did not answer him until we almost reach my house. I can see Andréa is on pins and needles waiting to hear from me. My voice must have sounded rather cold when the words came out. “Andréa it is your ticket do what you want to do with it.” Neither of us spoke the rest of the drive. When the car pulled up out front of my house I jumped out grabbing my bag slamming the door uttering one word, “Later.”

Andréa stared at me with doe eyes struggling to hold back the tears. I felt small sensing I caused a deep wound knowing I cannot leave her like this. “Andréa wait,” I shout seeing the car suddenly slam into reverse backing up to the curb. At the same time my father hearing the commotion walks off the steps toward me. I push ahead anyway speaking in a hurry to Andréa trying to keep my voice down. “I’m sorry I sounded so crass. We can talk about this tomorrow at lunch, okay?”

Sitting behind the wheel, Andréa relaxes offering a relieved smile. “I was worried you hated me and would go back to the way you were avoiding me. We can talk tomorrow, I’m so confused.”

I step back as Andréa shifts the car into gear but is again halted by yet another voice, dads.

“Who is your friend honey?”

I think of myself as quick, cool and sharper than the average person in this town. I am going to be the valedictorian aren’t I? Sure why did the dim bulb go when I answered? “Dad this is Andi Ly, err Andréa.” I forgot his fake name then suddenly while Andréa is blinking I remember the name Judd. Dad is accepting that because before I can eep out Judd he is talking.

“Andréa it is nice to meet you. Jean never talks about her friends I’m glad to finally to meet one. Do you have time to come in? Dinner is almost ready.”

I can see the panic in her face it spells flight. Too late, mom is here and she pounces upon my large trash bag.

“What do you have in the bag honey?”

It is an innocent question anyone would ask. There is no point in making up a story. So I tell mom about the ketchup and that bastard Pete Gibbons. I finish explaining how Andréa came to the rescue. While I am doing this, dad already talked Andréa out of her car. Nobody appears to notice the preppy version of me in her Horny Toad oatmeal skirt, Mary Janes, luscious to die for pink top and cardigan sweater. I take a deep breath, Mom just might have and I suck in more air listening to mom as she searches through the bag.

“Andréa that is so nice of you. Luke grill some stakes. Andréa must stay for dinner it is the least we can do.”

I can tell mom is dying to say more but her comments surprise me. They are not what I expected to hear. I swear my mother is psychic.

“Andréa, Jean the school called and told me what happened. I knew you went to Andi’s house and I know about that awful boy. Come inside it’s more comfortable we can talk there.”

On the verge of freaking out I follow mom and Andréa into our living room. Andi sweeps her skirt under her like a pro as she alights herself onto the sofa. Mom sits across from her while I take the kitchen table type chair in front of the computer desk. I deftly determined not to sit next to Andi not wanting to make the resemblance obvious. A thread of hope hung in my thinking they won’t make a connection because Andréa looks like a babe and I look like me.

Mom is sorting through my clothes raising a broad smile. They passed her laser eye with flying colors. “Andréa, you did an amazing job getting out those ketchup stains. I am impressed. Now it is Andi’s turn to impress me with her quickness. I can see why my road to valedictorian status is a rough one.

“Mrs. Phillips Jean told me you were not home this afternoon. My mom taught me stains like this must be treated at once or the clothes will be ruined. I rushed her to my house and gave Jean a pair of extra jeans and blouse. She can have them I have extras. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get Jean home but we wanted to wait for the clothes to finish.”

Dad came in from the back deck all smiles handing me a hundred dollars.

“Here you go dear.”

I look at dad stunned, “What is this?” Dad explains he was so mad when he heard what Pete did he nearly had a melt down. I will let dad tell you this. He is quite satisfied with himself.

“When your mother told me what this little creep did I went to see his father, Art. Art is a weasel who nearly freaked when I showed up at his office. He is one of those Goddamned lawyers who thinks his shit does not stink. Well to make a long story short he gave me the money to pay for your clothes. The little bastard is grounded for a month and is suspended from school for a week. Those nuns are tough. They are having an assembly the day Pete comes back. He has to apologize to you in front of the whole school or he is expelled.”

Mom has other ideas. She takes the money out of my clutching fingers handing it to Andi.

“The money is yours dear. You rescued my daughter and fixed the clothes. You certainly earned it.”

I present my how could you at mom gaze who simply offers her you know it’s right dear look. There goes an easy hundred bucks while Andi is saying she does not want the money. Once again mom shows why she is a mom.

“Andréa you must take the money I won’t take no for an answer.” Andi blushes catching the drift knowing arguing will get her nowhere.

“Do they know?” Andréa says to me after dinner while we hide out in my room.

“Know what?” I counter fully understanding her question not having any idea why they did not comment. How could they not notice I have a twin who is sitting right in front of them? Mom is not so out of touch she could have forgotten she birthed two girls. Is it possible they did not notice? I finally offer some crazy answer out of desperation. “Andi perhaps because you are dressed to the nines and I’m plain old me in jeans and tee they did not see.”

“Right, sure and pigs can fly. I only just met your mother. The secret is out that woman is one of those who does not miss a trick. No wonder you have been miss perfect your entire life. Your mom has always been one step ahead of you.”

I did not even try to deny what Andi said. I know she is correct so when is the other shoe going to drop? I did not have to wait long as there is a tapping on my door. It is mom of course, who does not wait to be invited,

“Andréa I wonder you have been so kind to Jean would you like to spend the night?”

Andi glances at me and I nod giving her permission. I am beginning to sweat because I know my mother. This is just the beginning and mom does not lose a minute. Her expression grows serene like she is trying to show empathy or something.

“Andréa, I know you can’t call your parents we heard about, well we know. You are a brave girl and I’m proud of how you are holding up. If you ever need someone to talk to I am a good listener. Did you wear those clothes to school today?”

Andi shakes her head no with a quizzical expression asking without words why mom is asking.

“Good,” mom responds, “I know how most girls will not wear the same outfit two days in a row. We are not like guys who simply throw on a pair of jeans and run out the door. Jean, give Andréa a sleep shirt and do you have an unopened pair of panties Andréa can have?”

I nod answering over Andi’s loud giggling. “Yes I have a couple packages. No problem.” Still nearly freaking I watch my mouth open.

Mom turns to Andréa, “I will wash and dry your adorable skirt and blouse. I only wish Jean would dress as impressively as you dear. Jean can’t you see how beautiful you would look? It is rather obvious all you have to do is turn toward Andréa to get a glimpse of how pretty you are.”

Shit, shit ,shit the cat is out of the bag. How stupid do you have to be to think mom did not notice? I grit my teeth waiting for the explosion. Mom interrupts my freaking out.

“Andréa your parents must be distant relatives you look so much like Jean. You could have been her twin. I can see differences but this is astounding. Can you talk my daughter into looking more like a girl?”

Andi laughs, “We notice how much we looked alike. I hear everybody has a double somewhere but never thought I’d meet one.” My parents are from the west coast and never talked about family.” She blushes signaling she is about to cry. “Considering what they did I’m not surprised. It is likely they were disowned. I know nothing of our relatives perhaps I’ll never find out.” Now a tear forms as she sniffles.

Mom hugs her offering comfort. “I pry too much sorry to bring out something to cause you pain dear. Why don’t you kids get to bed and I will have your clothes ready in the morning.”

Mom leaves Andi and me staring at each other. “Lyons, you never in your fondest dreams could have let yourself believe you’d be sleeping with me.”

Andi raises a wry smile, “I did not expect I’d be the one wearing a negligé and panties either while minus my junk. I guess you will have to suffer and suppress those desires you have buried.”

God this girl is quick she is absolutely beautiful lying on my bed. I am now conflicted viewing Andi dressed like I should be. Instead I am wearing flannel pajamas with a head full of confusion.

“So we are still considering your Halloween pass right? It is this in two days you know. You did not give a flat out no, not yet anyway.” Andi nodded while I added another mischievous challenge. “When we go out the door to drive to school in your Beetle you know what mom expects to see you wearing. Has that crossed your tiny brain yet?”

Now the panic sets in, “I thought we could swing by the house and I can change before we go to school.”

I present my best duh expression. “Andréa you have been dying to see what life is like as a girly girl. You even made out with that Troy guy letting him feel you up. Tomorrow you pretend to be me. I’ll present in my Andy Lyons hair and his jeans. Everybody will see you as Jean Phillips the girl. Consider it this way if you are going to play with fire at least we still have a hose. One more trip for you on ladies night out at the Sanctuary you could end up needing a box of tampons. I’m not sure you’d like that. I’m not sure you will be thrilled with nine months of cramps, back aches culminating with an eight to ten pound blob being squeezed out your bottom either. Think about it before you do something stupid.”

Next in Chapter 5 You will hear from three voices, Andrew, Jean and the Narrator