“As scary as it may sound, I think Amanda would kill to be with you, but Mark would rather play ball and get dirty with his friends.”

Chapter 5

From that day forward Cindy called me Amanda, using Mark only when someone might hear my female name and even then, she would forget on occasion. We were at school one day and Cindy, Jennifer, and Margret were talking about going to the mall In Auburn the next day.

“Amanda and I went there, just yesterday,” Cindy said, without thinking.

“Who’s Amanda?” Jennifer asked. “I thought you and Mark went together.”

“Oh we did, did I say Amanda? I meant Mark, Amanda’s my cousin and she’s coming to visit this weekend,” Cindy said, pulling herself from the hole she just dug around herself.

“Oh.”

We split up with the three girls going their way and Cindy and I ours.

“God Cindy, you have to be more careful. No one knows about Amanda, other than you and if anyone finds out about her, I can kiss my modeling career goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m so used to calling you, Amanda, now, that I forget, Mark’s still around.”

“Well, he’s going to be around for a long time so please try not to forget.”

“Okay girlfriend, now are you coming with me and the girls, shopping?”

“I doubt it, Mark has a lot of other things he would rather do,” I laughed.

“Like what? Wouldn’t your rather spend quality time shopping with your best friend in the world?”

“As scary as it may sound, I think Amanda would kill to be with you, but Mark would rather play ball and get dirty with his friends.”

“Party-poop.”

So it went and I wondered if our role-play was screwing me up? I was, Mark, one minute and, Amanda, the next. No I didn’t all of a sudden sit with my legs together or have a feminine walk, on the outside I was always, Mark. It was inside that changed. I could be, Mark, one minute and become, Amanda the next. When I was, Amanda, I abhorred violent play with my friends. I loved discussing the most feminine pursuits like clothing and makeup. If one were to hear my conversations with Cindy, one would think I was gay or a girl, just not one that liked boys. I never really noticed girls and pretty much ignored my guy friends when they would say something crude about them. Sometimes I would change into my Amanda personality when they said something inappropriate and I felt like slapping them. How dare they insult us girls like that I wondered?

Even as I spent more time as Amanda, I had no desire to dress as a girl. My clothes were what they were. I was nothing more than a girl cross-dressing as far as I was concerned. I would do my homework and feel as though Amanda was doing it for me. Strangely though, my handwriting improved as Amanda would write one of my assignments. More than once, I was asked, by my teacher, who wrote my paper for me? My writing had become feminine and flowing when I was, Amanda, and remained somewhat messy when I was, Mark. My excuse was that my mother wanted me to improve my writing skills before I entered the eighth grade.

I think the hardest parts of my day were when I became, Amanda, and they were becoming more frequent as time passed. I had created this special girl, and now I was becoming more and more like her each day. Every experience was new to Amanda, writing or talking to Cindy; every moment was a learning experience for her. I was so confused as to how and why this was happening, but did nothing to stop it. I didn’t want to destroy my creation, I wanted to embrace her. I loved who I was becoming.

My first taste of girl’s clothing came several weeks later. Don’t get the wrong impression that, Amanda, had finally turned my brain feminine, even though she pretty much had, part of the time anyway. What happened was that I finally got my first modeling assignment. All that had to be done was to sign the contracts with the modeling agency and then the contract with Lush Cosmetics. Mrs. Meyer was handling the whole thing.

My parents and I were asked to come to her house to sign at seven in the evening. She said she would have a Notary to witness our signatures.

During the time I picked a name for myself and the signing I told my parents what my name would be for my modeling contract. It was three days after I picked the name that I caught Mom in the kitchen when I returned from school.

“Mom, I picked a name for myself for when I do my modeling.”

“You did? I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s obvious that you couldn’t portray a girl and be named Mark,” she giggled. “So what kind of name did you pick for yourself?”

“Amanda Christine Flowers.”

Mom was silent for several seconds as she looked at me. I could see her eyes misting before she spoke.

“Oh Mark,” she said, and gathered me into a hug, “that’s such a beautiful name. How did you pick it?”

“I kind of liked, Amanda, for a name and, Cindy, liked it so she thought I would be Amanda James, but I told her I didn’t want anyone to associate Amanda James with Mark James. I couldn’t think of a name but saw the flowers in the vase in the living room and I thought Flowers would be a pretty last name. Cindy said I needed a middle name and suggested Christine and I liked it, so that’s how I became Amanda Christine Flowers.”

“You’re such a girl, Mark. I would never have thought you would find a name so pretty. I’ll let Dad know his daughter’s name when he gets home tonight. There is something to think about though, you’re a minor and we will have documents to sign at some point so I’m not sure how we will be able to handle having a daughter with a different last name. We’ll figure something out. Now, Amanda, get to your room and do your homework,” she said, followed with giggles.

Mom, calling me, Amanda, seemed weird but pleased me just the same. I knew she was just kidding me, but that one moment cemented an acceptance of having a new daughter even if it was just for a job. I wasn’t sure why it was so important to me for that acceptance, after all, I’m still a boy named, Mark, but it was, and it made me feel very special. The feelings I got were the feelings a mother and daughter shared that made mother, daughter relationships so special.

Later that afternoon my father got home from work and Mom gave him the news of my new part-time name.

“Mark, would you come here, please” my Mom called to me.

“Sure Mom, be right there.”

I went to the kitchen and found my mom sitting at the kitchen table, Dad with a beer and Mom with a glass of wine.

“Mark,” my dad began, “you’re mother told me you’ve picked a name for yourself for this job you have?”

“Yes Dad, Amanda Christine Flowers.”

“That’s what she said. Are you sure you’re okay with this? That name is awfully feminine sounding. I hope you’re not forgetting you’re a boy.”

“I like that name Dad, and besides, I’m supposed to be a girl for those ads they want to make.”

“Why couldn’t you have picked a more masculine sounding name like Leslie or something?”

“I liked Amanda and that’s why I chose that name. What difference does it make anyway, I’m still your son.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m still having a problem with this whole girl thing. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would have a daughter named Amanda Flowers.”

“Dad, it’s just a name. I needed one for the girl I’m supposed to be. A name doesn’t automatically turn me into a girl, and how would you feel if the girl in the ad was named Mark James?”

“I see your point, it’s just that I worry about what this girl thing might do to you.”

“Dad, nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll still be your son, except for a few days a year when I’m supposed to be a girl. Nothing bad is going to come from this unless I can’t get into Stanford because I have too much money,” I laughed.

“Having too much money and getting into Stanford is something I would never worry about. I guess I’ll have to accept that I have a part time daughter named Amanda, but that won’t get you off the hook, we will still play ball together and the American river is just up the road so that means fishing too, so remember, we guys clean the fish and the girls cook them, so no excuses when it’s time to clean the fish.”

“Yes Dad.”

I felt good knowing my father accepted my new job and yet embraced the fact that I was still his son, one that he had shown how to be a man.

We walked to the Meyer’s house and knocked on the door. Cindy answered.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. James. Mom’s in the kitchen with the Notary.”

“Hi Cindy, it’s nice to see you again,” my mother said.

I smiled at my best friend and followed my parents into the kitchen.

As we entered the kitchen, Mrs. Meyer rose and walked to my mother and gave her a hug, an embrace of my father followed next. She looked at me and gave a little wink.

“Amanda, I’m so excited about all this,” she said, finally hugging me too.

I wondered why she was so giddy, and why I was suddenly, Amanda? When my parents read the documents I found out why. The notary would be witnessing signatures on documents stating that I was indeed a girl entering a modeling contract with an agency and my parents were legal guardians and responsible for said minor.

“Lance, Rachel, should we get started? This is Carol Bernstein a close friend and notary. She has an appointment in thirty minutes so we’ll have to hurry and sign the contract with the agency and me.”

Dad was always the one who read important papers and explained them to Mom. It took Dad about ten minutes to read the contract before he spoke to Mom.

“Honey, what this says is that Amanda will be entering a legally binding contract as Amanda James, with Hollywood Models Inc., as a minor with us as being responsible for any business dealings. Gloria is to be compensated with a finders fee for finding Amanda and will be compensated with a percentage of the agencies fees after Amanda makes more than five hundred thousand dollars. The agency’s percentage will be one third of her earnings. Gloria’s fees will come from the agency, not from any extra money from Amanda. Amanda won’t be able to sign for anything. That will have to come from us. The contract is for one year with an option to extend it for two more years. If extended, the percentages will remain the same.”

“What about Amanda Christine Flowers.”

“The contract is written as Amanda Mark James AKA Amanda Christine Flowers so there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Gloria, may we speak to you privately please?” Mom asked.

“Certainly, lets go into the living room.”

Mom and Dad followed Gloria into the living room. I followed. I all of a sudden got this sinking feeling in my stomach that Mom wouldn’t let me do this.

“Gloria, I don’t have a problem with the contract. You’re being more than fair but there is an issue that hasn’t been mentioned and it’s the obvious thing about all this, Mark’s gender. We’re signing these documents as though Mark’s a girl and we all know that’s not the case. How do we get around that little thing?” Mom asked.

“It won’t be a problem. The contract doesn’t say anything about sex, I made sure of that. If it had said Amanda Mark James, female this wouldn’t be happening. I’m at just as much risk as you and maybe more because of my involvement in all of this. I already told the agency what Amanda’s name was including the Mark part, explaining you two couldn’t agree on a name for your child and named Amanda with boy’s middle name. It’s kind of like that Johnny Cash tune called ‘A boy named Sue’.

“As long as you’re comfortable with it then, we’ll sign. I guess the worse that could happen is the contract would be revoked.”

We returned to the kitchen to sign.

The only documents that were notarized were the Agency ones. A second contract was with Lush Cosmetics and those didn’t have to be witnessed.

Part of the Agency contract was the requirement that I had to put together portfolio. Obviously it would be for a girl named Amanda Flowers and more than headshots would be involved. Now, as a twelve-year-old girl, not a lot of skin would show, but I would be required to wear blouses, jeans, skirts, and a dress, with swimming suits optional. We read the requirement and it was like looking at a brick. We had no idea what to do with it.

“Amanda, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. We can use Cindy’s photographer and I know what clothes you should wear. Your mom and I can take you shopping. Is tomorrow too soon, Rachel?”

Mrs. Meyers had become a woman obsessed. Her business personality was one I had never seen before. She had taken charge of my life as CEO and my mother was her next in charge, the one to give orders after she had given them.

Mom looked like a deer in the headlights. She froze, trying to absorb what was happening to her son. Clothes, so soon?

“Who’s going to pay for all of this?” Mom asked.

“Unfortunately you’ll have to pay for the clothing, but the agency will pick up the photographer. They don’t know Amanda’s a boy so they just assume she would have the necessary clothes already.”

“I suppose, when, after school?”

“Yes, I’ll pick you up when the kids get home. You’re going to love shopping with our daughters.”

I couldn’t help noticing the reaction on Mom’s face, one of resignation, and what seemed like a little bit of life leaving my dad as he slumped down on the chair where he was sitting. I didn’t know if I should smile or cry for what I was putting them through.

I think the hardest part of this journey is the excitement I was feeling, or I should say Amanda was feeling. The thought of me wearing a dress was breaking my father’s heart, even though I assured him I was still going to be his son after this was all over. The more I thought of being Amanda, the more I wondered if that were true. Would I really be able to discard the girl I had given birth to? I was beginning to understand what my tears the day before were all about. A part of me had become Amanda and as hard as I tried, I would never be able to give her away. The only thing now, would I be able to remain Mark when this was over or would, Amanda, win the war between male and female? There was a time days earlier when such a question seemed ridiculous but the longer, Amanda, invaded my thoughts, the more my body yearned to be her. I was terrified of what the answer might be.

The following afternoon, Cindy, Gloria, Mom, and I went down to a mall in Roseville that Cindy said had everything a young girl could want. I had no idea of what those could be, but I learned fast. I’m not going to bore you with all the stores we visited, but suffice to say, Mom broke the bank.

Before we left I had to prepare for the adventure as Gloria stated. I couldn’t very well go clothes shopping looking the way I did, so Gloria provided me with a short wig styled into a bob. A little mascara for my eyes, a pair of Cindy’s shorts that no longer fit her and we were ready to go. The first store we entered was Forever Twenty One.

Cindy was giddy with excitement as she pulled one very nervous young man in her wake. Cindy found six items, the dressing room maximum, and brought me to try on the clothes. I promise not to bore you, but my first reaction to wearing girl’s clothes is important.

“Amanda, you have to have a mini skirt. Every girl our age had at least one denim shirt, so we’ll start with that. Take off all your clothes.”

“Even my boxers?”

“I forgot about those, wait I’ll be right back.”

Cindy returned with a package of cotton panties and handed them to me.

“Your mother just bought these for you, now off with the boxers and on with one of these.”

I did as told and stood looking like a young girl embarking on the journey of a lifetime. I looked in the mirror and saw Amanda looking back. She was a skinny, pretty little girl with absolutely no shape. I compared myself to Cindy and wondered how I was going to pull off this charade.

Cindy had started her puberty a year ago and the differences between a boy and girl were now obvious. She didn’t have huge breasts nor did she have one of those Beyonce butts. There was enough of a difference between her and me for me to notice. Everything about her was softer looking. Where my ribs would stick out sharply hers seemed to flow from her body. Did I mention Cindy was trying on a dress? My legs seemed, I don’t know how to put this, like something was missing. My thighs were lean and seemed to suddenly stop at my knees. My calves seemed stringy and my ankles jutted out over boney feet.

Cindy on the other hand had some shape to her thighs and they seemed to flow softly to her knees, which emphasized soft well-rounded calves. Her feet were pretty, whereas mine were just feet. It was obvious, I was a boy, and I thought a skirt would never change that.

“Put on the skirt and blouse, Amanda. See if it fits.”

Cindy showed me how to put the skirt on and added a blouse to cover my top. Cindy had started a small amount of breast development so the blouse looked flat on me.

“It doesn’t look right,” I said to her.

“Zip me up, I’ll be right back.”

I pulled the zipper up to the top on the dress and she ran from the dressing room. She came back with a bra.

“Here put this on and I’ll show you something.”

Cindy fed my arms through the straps and turned me to fasten the back.

“Don’t look,” She said, turning away from me. She lifted the dress and reached under her bra. She pulled something that looked like chicken breast fillets out and handed them to me.

“Put these in your bra.”

“Cindy, I thought….”

“Amanda, sometimes all of us girls need help, at least until we’re big enough to fill a bra properly.”

I slipped the rubbery objects into the bra cups and noticed an immediate difference. They filled the loose bit of cloth in the blouse. I looked much better.

I stood looking at the image in the mirror. A very pretty girl in bare feet looked back. Amanda reached out and touched the mirror with her fingertips; a tear ran down her cheek and dropped to the floor. The feelings I had were overwhelming me, or should I say, Amanda? It was becoming harder each day to remember I was a boy named Mark, and seeing myself like this only highlighted that fact. I shouldn’t be feeling the excitement of discovery like I was, but the creation of, Amanda, had brought me here, here to this place where a girl like, Amanda, should be. This was a place where a boy named, Mark, was losing the battle he had so innocently begun ten years earlier in his mother’s bedroom and a girl named, Amanda, was winning.

“What’s wrong?” Cindy asked, as she saw the tears begin to flow down my cheeks.

“This is so wrong Cindy. I shouldn’t be here.”

Cindy took me in her arms and hugged me tight.

“Why shouldn’t you be here? This is where you belong, Amanda.”

“But I’m not, Amanda, and you know it. I’m a boy, Cindy, a boy. Why do I want to be the girl in the mirror so badly?”

“Because maybe you’re not a boy and maybe you’re really a girl named, Amanda.”

“But I’ve been a boy all my life.”

“How do you know that? Maybe you never gave, Amanda, a chance to be herself.”

“But I like being a boy.”

“Do you dislike being a girl?”

“No, and that’s what scares me, oh Cindy, what am I going to do?”

“Be the best, Amanda, you can be. You know what being, Mark, is like so why not give, Amanda, a chance too? I love you, Mark, you’re my best friend in the world and I would never do anything to hurt you, but I see how much you hurt when you see yourself in the mirror. I think it’s because you know you have to put, Amanda, away when we get home. You love Amanda, don’t you?”

“Yes, very much, but I love, Mark, too.”

“But you’ve only been, Amanda, for a few weeks and I think you love her as much or more than, Mark.”

“How can you say that? How do you know how I feel about, Amanda?”

“Sweetie, you’re my best friend and best friends know what they are feeling, even without words. I could see the brightness and happiness in your face every time I called you, Amanda. When I called you, Mark, nothing happened, you were just, Mark. I love you, Amanda, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. I love you too much.”

I held on to, Cindy, for several minutes digesting what she had said. Was I really, Amanda, and didn’t know it? When I’m, Amanda, I know my body feels different. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but it’s just, I don’t know, a softer special feeling I can’t put away. Ever since I picked my name I’ve felt that way, like I really was, Amanda Christine Flowers. I finally figured out why I had tears in my eyes, I wanted to be, Amanda Christine Flowers, more than I wanted to be, Mark James.

Cindy, told, Mom, that I should wear the skirt and blouse from the store so I can get used to wearing girls clothes. She agreed so I left wearing the denim skirt and the sleeveless pink blouse.

“You need shoes. Come on, Payless is this way.”

Cindy grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the other side of the mall. Mom and Gloria were laughing while they watched my plight.

We had no idea of my size but a nice young man was more than eager to help. He placed my foot on the measuring thing and stated I was a size five with a normal width.

We picked out several pairs to go with the outfits I would be modeling during the photo shoot. Nothing had a heel over one inch.

“Mrs. James, Amanda really should have her own cosmetics,” Cindy said.

“Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right. She can’t keep using your mother’s and I really don’t like to share mine. Come on, Amanda, but this is the last of it. I don’t think I can afford having a daughter much longer.”

I smiled, and for the life of me I don’t know why I did it, but I gave my mother a hug.