In this world, there is a balance. When there are too many women, the world changed girls into boys. When there are too many men, the world changed boys into girls. If you are changed before you reached 12, you have 98% chance to emerge as the opposite sex. The closer you are to adulthood, the more dangerous the change becomes. By the time you are 18, 'change' means 100% death. My name is Ahmad Zarif, 16 years old. This is my story, of the longest year in my life. Butterfly Girlfriend Part 1 By Shinieris

My name is Ahmad Zarif bin Amir Hamzah, 16 years old, Form 4 student at the St. Joseph Secondary School. I am a normal guy, with normal desires and normal life. What I am about to tell you is the story of the longest year of my life.

"Zar, you free this evening?" came a voice from my right while I was finishing my mind map at the end of the history class.

I knew who it was without looking, but I looked anyway, just out of habit. Standing there was Arif, also 16 years old, the guy who'd been my friend since kindergarten. He and I had been in the same class for as long as I could remember, except perhaps back in Standard 5 back when we were 11 years old, simply because I found a passion in Playstation and couldn't get good enough exam results because I couldn't put the controller down long enough to study. He had always been my best and closest friend and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"You mean right after school or at dusk?" I asked him.

"Right after school, of course," he said with a smile.

I twirled the marker pen that I used for drawing my mind map, thought about it and shook my head. "Nah, got nothing planned. Why?"

He laughed embarrassedly. "Well, you see, I'm short of 100 bucks."

I knew where that was going. "So... you're looking to borrow 100 bucks from me?"

He grinned. "Naw man, I'm gonna win it from ya!"

I sighed. I knew it would come to this. "Okay, what's the game?"

"Tennis! Best 2 out of 3. I win, you hand over the 100 bucks!" he said as he patted my shoulder.

Let me explain. We're very competitive. Ever since we were children, we've competed in everything. It didn't matter whether it was sports, school or a card game. We always competed and we always made bets. The one who lost the bet, paid the price. I suppose all that competition was what made us the best of our year. Heck, I've been school champion in sprinting for the past 3 years and Arif had been the school champion in swimming since Standard 6, that's 5 years, give or take a few months. Don't even get me started on academics.

"Alright, what if you lose? I get 100 bucks?" I asked.

"Definitely not! I don't have 100 bucks in the first place. If I lose, I'll do your homework for 3 days."

I screwed my face at his bet. "That's not very fair, is it? I mean, I'm putting 100 bucks on the table and you do my homework for a measly 3 days?"

He frowned. "Dude, that's a lot of homework! 3 days is equal value."

"Considering that my brother do part-time work for 8 hours a day and only got paid 30 bucks a day, I very doubt it's equal value. Besides, we have the same homework. You'll just be copying your work into mine anyway. One week or no deal," I negotiated pushing it further.

He bit his lower lip as he considered my bet. I couldn't understand why the girls said it looked adorable on him. He was just the same stupid friend I've had all these time.

"5 days," he relented, "And not a day more."

"Deal!" I offered my hand.

To tell the truth, I am a very lazy person when it comes to doing homework. I mean, it's all fine if you need it, but for someone with perfect memory like me, it's totally pointless.

"Deal!" he shook it right before the door of the classroom opened and the next teacher came in.

He went to his seat and I got on my feet as the class monitor said, "Good morning, teacher," and the rest of the class followed.

Thus I went through another pre-calculus class in my short life.

------

"Come on man, don't you love your 100 bucks? I swear you're not even trying," Arif shouted from the other side of the court as we concluded the first match.

Frankly, I was trying, quite hard in fact. For some reason, tennis was never my strongest arena. I was good enough with badminton, but he dominated in tennis. Right now, my win to lose ratio was 45:51. Maybe my problem was with bouncing the ball.

The second match was mine, but it took all my concentration and stamina to barely beat him. The third one was his and there went my 100 bucks.

"Alright, bitch, pay up!" He held out his hands, grinning in triump.

I took out my wallet and pulled out two sheets of 50s. "Here, don't spend it in one place. What do you need it for, anyway?

"A date," his grin got wider.

Let me give a little background. Form 4 is the year after the national examination PMR, short for Junior-Secondary Assessment. Form 4 is also the year before Form 5, when students take the national examination SPM short for Malaysian Assessment Certificate. Therefore, the one year that students took during Form 4, when there is no major examination is often fondly called the Honeymoon Year. Basically, because you just went through a terrifying experience the year before, and you're looking to relax before working your butt of next year. The difference between Form 4 and Form 1 or 2 is that at 16 years old, you understand your hormones better and you are old enough to appreciate the opposite sex. That's why so many students couple up in Form 4 and break up in Form 5.

"Just don't bother introducing her to me, okay casanova? I doubt you will be together long enough for me to remember her name," I told him.

"You already know her, stupid. She's Fiora in 4 Cempaka."

My mouth gaped. "What the hell? She confessed to me last month!"

"Tsk tsk, too bad. She confessed to me earlier this week. I ain't gonna let that beauty go when she handed herself to me on a silver platter. Your loss, my dear friend, why did you reject her in the first place?" he said as he patted my back as if to reassure me.

"I wasn't interested," I mumbled.

"Weelll, I'm interested. So I'm taking her on a date. No hard feelings okay?"

"Sure, go have fun. I'll be at home playing Final Fantasy 8 if you need me or anything."

He grinned, then he jiggled a bunch of keys and ran off. "Awesome! Thanks for the bike."

My hands flew to my pants pockets and I shouted at his back the moment it hit me, "Hey! When did I say I'm letting you borrow my bike?"

------

"Hey Zarif, thanks for helping me out with modern math yesterday. I swear they keep getting harder and harder," one of my friends said suddenly the next week.

"Don't mention it, was happy to help. By the way, I heard your little brother got 'The Illness'. How's he doing?" I asked as I looked around at my schoolmates who was packing their bags to head home at the end of the day.

"He's been inside the cocoon for the whole week and it worries the hell out of my ma and pa. But the doctor said the risk is minimal, you see, because at his age, 'The Illness' has little risk of being fatal. He may change a little but I'm sure our family can handle it. I'm just worried how he'll take to being a girl and such," he replied with a sad smile on his lips.

'The Illness' or 'The Change' or 'Metamorphosis' as some people call it, was a phenomenon that started about 60 years ago. Experts concluded that whenever the balance of males and females go out of whack, the world will somehow compensate by turning males into females and females into males. The years following the Vietnam War and the Korean War saw many girls entering cocoons and emerging as boys. When it was leaked that the possible reason for 'The Illness' was an unbalance of male and female in the world, people all over the world picketed for the end of wars and urged for peaceful solutions to conflicts. The governments on the other hand responded by removing restrictions on women in the armed services so even if there was a war, the number of men and women casualties would be about equal.

For some reason, up to a certain age, both men and women become immune to 'The Illness', so adults can't 'Change'. The ones who are changed are mostly children at around 8 to 12 years old. There were also cases where teenagers at 18 years old changed, but such changes were always fatal. The oldest to change was an 18 year old girl, and she died two months after. 98% of children under 12 years old that 'changed' suffered no such risk and they often lived a long and fulfilling life.

"What about you? You're sure you'll be alright, Im?" I asked him.

He scratched his head. "Yeah, well, it's going to be tough, what with him suddenly becoming a girl and such. But no matter what gender he is, he's my little brother-sister and if anyone bullies him because of 'The Change', I'm gonna beat them up with these fists of mine."

I laughed. "Don't be too rough. Don't want to see you going to juvi."

"Haha, no way. I'm too smart for that. Anyway, the next time you see him, you'll have to call him Aliyah. Ali won't cut it anymore."

"Well, tell me when he finally punched out of the cocoon. I'll be sure to visit," I said giving him a smile.

"Yeah, thanks man. See you tomorrow," he said as he took his bag and went out of the classroom.

I went back to drawing my mind maps when I got the chills from someone blowing into my ear. I turned around and saw Arif grinning at me. "Hey, stop that. That was creepy, man. God, I got chills from that short indecent act."

"You my friend, needs to chill out and stop being so uptight. You're nice to guys and you give the girls the cold shoulder any longer, people will think you're gay," he said as he patted my head.

I went back to my mind maps. "You know I'm not gay, Arif. I'm just... I can't get along with girls."

He suddenly crossed the short distance to the other side of my desk and squatted with his chin on the desk. "You're a growing boy. You need to get a girlfriend to get you out of your pre-pubescent mindset. What will you do if I suddenly die or something?"

"Please, you won't die even if you got killed. Remember that time you got hit by a car?" I said as I drew another mindmap bubble, labelling it '1511' with a red marker.

He cackled at the memory. "Oh yeah, I can still remember that guy's face when I got up, all bloody and all and chased him across the carpark."

I nodded and let out a chuckle. "That was a riot, yup."

"Well anyway, you remember Fiora?"

"How could I not? She switched to you two weeks after confessing to me," I said as I put the finishing touches on my history mindmap.

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that, you rejected her, remember? Well anyway, she got this friend, a girl if you're wondering, who's very interested in you," he said as he studied my face.

I tidied up my desk and packed my books preparing to go home. "You know I don't do dates, Arif. Besides, I got much better things to do this evening."

"Playing Final Fantasy 8 is not-" he smashed his hand on the front pocket of my school bag with a squishy sound. He looked at his hand and the pocket. "What did I just smashed?"

"The sushi that I forgot to eat at break-time."

He unzipped the front pocket, took out the package of home-made sushi and ate one. "Still good. Can I have it?"

I looked at him chewing the bite-sized home-made sushi and said, "You asked me this after already eating one. Just take the whole damned thing."

"Cool, so let's go home. Unless you want to stay here until tomorrow?" he said as he grabbed his bag.

"Relax, you're always so pushy," I said as I grabbed my bag and we walked out the classroom together.

------

"..." I thought.

"..." I wondered.

"..." It was a question that really bugged me.

"Why are you making that face, Zar?" Arif asked as he turned the corner to the house of the girl who was supposed to be my date.

"It's really bugging me, how did you convince your very strict mother to lend you her car? For a date no less?" I asked as I looked at him.

"I asked, of course."

Enough to say that I didn't believe that for a second. "You asked her if you could borrow her car for a date?"

"Well, not exactly," he answered evasively.

"What exactly did you say to her, Arif?"

"I asked her for her car key."

"And she just gave it to you?"

"No way! You know my mother. I told her I'm sending it to the car wash."

"She bought it?"

"Of course not, she's not stupid. But you know my mother, as long as a promise is fulfilled, she won't sweat the small details. I just need to send it to the car wash later."

"Actually I don't think I know her that well now."

"Oh let's not worry about that. We're here," he cut off the engine, "Come, let's go."

"To where?"

"To meet your date's mother. It's common courtesy. Now come on."

"Just great," I muttered under my breath.

We were at the shopping mall an hour later. He was walking in front with Fiora, and I was walking next to this shy girl who told me call her Sara. I looked at her, she was a petite girl, the top of her head reaching only my neck and she wore her hair short that framed her roundish face. From what her mother said earlier she was a year younger and would be facing her PMR examination soon. So her mother told us to not get serious until she was done with it. Then our eyes met and we both looked away at the same time. It was a fine deal with me. I couldn't handle girls even if my life depended on it.

Fiora dragged us into a girl's accessories shop and I could see for the first time Sara being a little less shy and a lot more excited about the date. They both matched bracelets, necklaces and earrings and asked for our opinions. Sara was still shy, but despite the blush in her cheeks, she managed to asked me which earrings or bracelets would look good on her.

"They're both good," I told her as I looked away, which earned me a smacked on the back of my head.

"What the hell, man?" I asked Arif.

"Help her make her mind, man. Geez, you are so clueless. Girls like guys who are decisive. So go and make a decision!" he said as he pushed me towards her.

I staggered a few steps towards Sara. As I stood awkwardly behind her, I whispered, "I think the blue one suits your eyes better."

She turned towards me. "Really? I'll take this one then," she said as she went to the cashier. She looked visibly happier, in her shy way.

I got another smack on the back of my head.

"Dude, stop that!" I said to Arif.

"Pay!" he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Pay for her!" he added.

I refused. "Why? I'm not gonna wear it. Besides you're not paying for Fiora's purchase."

"This is our 4th date, so there's no expectations. The first dates are special. Go make this an unforgettable experience for her," he said as he pushed me again.

I walked reluctantly towards the cashier. While Sara was looking for the money inside her handbag, I took out my wallet and handed the cashier 5 bucks. Sara looked very embarrassed and tried to ask the cashier to not take the money.

I told her, "This one's on me. I would love to see you wear it someday."

She blushed and looked down to the floor.

Suddenly somebody slapped my back. I thought it was Arif again, but instead...

"Wow, I didn't know you had it in you, Zarif!" It was Fiora.

Suddenly I got chills from her touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Fiora asked.

"It... it's... nuh... nuthing... wrong," I stuttered.

"Are you okay, Arif?" she asked again.

"Arif?" I turned around. "What's wrong with Arif?"

Arif looked pale and he looked unsteady on his feet. "No, I'm okay. Just disorientation, I guess. It's nothing, really," then he looked at me and pointed, "I can still beat you at basketball with my hands tied, Zar."

"Dude, you can't play basketball with your hands tied."

"Anyway, I'm fine. Let's go eat."

"You're sure you okay, Arif?" I asked as we walked back to the car.

"I've told you. I'm fine!" he said as whispered something to Fiora which made her giggle.

I thought he was just as he said he was. So I let it go. I should've known something wasn't right. He looked pale, that was the first indication. His legs were unsteady, that was the second indication. He leaned a little heavily on Fiora, which was the third indication.

When we arrived at the car, he simply collapsed. No word, no sound, his legs simply gave out and he collapsed. The only reason he didn't fall flat on his face was because Fiora had her arms hooked around his left, but even Fiora was dragged down by his weight.

"Arif, what's wrong?" she asked my unconcious friend.

"Arif! Arif!" I turned him around and slapped his face.

A man who passed by us knelt next to us and offered to help bring Arif to the car. Together with him, we carried Arif to the back seat where we laid him down and tried all kinds of ways to wake him up. We wiped his face with waters, we fed him water and we slapped his face, but nothing worked.

"What's wrong with him?" Fiora asked as she started to panic.

"We need to get him to a hospital. Do you know if his family has any prefered hospital?" the man asked me.

"No, not that I know of."

"Then we'll go with SJMC," the man said as he opened the door on the other side and pulled Arif to let his legs in.

I pushed Arif's leg in as I closed the door, then I realized something, "But I can't drive! Arif was the one who drove us here."

"Then I'll drive!" he said as he threw his keys to his wife and told her girls to ride with her, then once he backed the car out of the parking box, he shouted to his wife, "Hani, we're taking them to SJMC!"

My mind was playing scenario after scenario of what happened and what would happen while on the way to the hospital. Arif had always been a healthy boy, the healthiest I knew. He would recover from colds without even needing to take medications and he could win a swimming competition even if he had a fever. In my mind I imagined lots of things that could go wrong.

God, please let him be okay.

------

It had been three weeks ever since that day. I contacted his mother the moment we got to the hospital and she came soon after with his father. I told them what happened and I told them I was sorry. Then they told me that it wasn't my fault. It made me glad when they said it, but I was shocked when they told me that he had been feeling unwell for days before that.

Arif, apparently had been running into tables, chairs and walls. At first they thought he was starting to suffer short-sightedness. But then he would lose his grip on things he was holding and he would suddenly lose his balance for apparently no reason. They wanted to send him for a checkup, but the soonest they could have it was only the following Thursday. It was apparently three days too late for Arif.

I went to their house the next day, and the day after that, as well as the day after that. It didn't appear as if their family was at home. I went again, with Fiora the next Monday, but they were still out. I even went back to the hospital SJMC, but the receptionists told me that he was moved to another hospital. I asked them where, but they couldn't tell me, unless I was a family member. I was stricken with grief, not knowing what happened, whether he was still alive or not. This was my best friend, my best friend since we were little children. And I was helpless to do anything.

"Arif's been skipping school for two weeks now. What happened to him?" a boy in my class asked another.

"Don't know. Heard he had some illness or something," the other boy said.

"What did his best friend say?" another boy asked.

"Shh, just look at him. He's been like that since Arif stopped coming to school. You want to be the one who asked?" the second boy said.

I guess he was probably referring to the time when I punched a boy for saying that Arif was so lucky to be able to skip school for so long.

When the bell rang signifying the end of school, I picked my bag and left without saying a word to anyone. Both Sara and Fiora had been chatting about it on yahoo messenger at night, but I guess I wasn't a very good listener or speaker, because Fiora would cry and Sara would try to comfort her.

I rode my bike home. I must have blanked out because the next thing I knew, I was riding in front of his house and I stopped my bike so suddenly, I made a skidmark in front of his gate. Both of his parent's car was in the driveway. I turned off the bike, left if in front of the gate and I walked in. My feet stopped in front of the door, and I knocked. It started slow, as I was unsure of myself. I wanted to know, I wanted to hear some news, any news of what happened to Arif. But I was afraid, what if it was a terribly bad news, what if I could never see Arif, my best friend again. The fear made me frantic, that my tears flowed and I knocked the front door with all the strength I could muster. Then the door opened.

"Ararara, it's been so long since we've seen each other. And suddenly you're here trying to smash down my front door, Zar?" the person said. The tone was like Arif, but the voice...

"Wait, are you crying, Zar? Hold there, I'm gonna have to get my camera."

"Arif?" I raised my head, but the person in front of me was...

"The one and only! Oh wait, I guess I can't be called Arif anymore. Just call me Arifah. Sounds cute, don't you agree?"

In front of me stood, Arif with his usual grin, but this was not Arif. This long hair, this curvy body and and the voice...

"A girl?!!!"

"Right-o! I think I'll be going to school starting tomorrow," this beauty in front of me said with a smile.

My name is Ahmad Zarif, 16 years old. And this is the longest year of my life.

*As always, feedbacks and comments are always appreciated. Praises helps me write faster and constructive criticisms helps me write better. Thanks in advance.