"Oh, Marcie," Ms. Price said with a concerned frown, "What happened to you? I thought you'd get here ahead of me."

In answer I looked up at the Queen of Hearts lookalike standing next to me. I wanted to say, What happened to me? She happened to me. That's what happened to me. Then I looked from Ms. Price's eyes to the hand on my arm, to try to tell her, I'm her prisoner now.

Jerry was a tenth grader. He was a few inches taller than me, so I had to look up to talk to him. He was very confident, positive, sure of himself, and likable.

I, on the other hand, was embarrassed, felt overexposed, and was scared to death of what would happen when the school found out that Marcie was a boy. I had to hope that the principal would understand and help me out. At the same time, everything inside me was screaming that the best and only thing to do was to cut and run, right out the door, and head straight for home. Once there, I could change my clothes, cut my hair crew-cut short, and come back to school as Mark to do the 'add thingy'.

But Jerry put me at my ease. Walking with him, talking with him, calmed me. When I blurted out that I couldn't and wouldn't walk through the halls dressed in my silly outfit with its too-short skirt, first he told me, "You make it look good." And when I laughed at that, he told me that I had to brazen it out: "Walk through the halls like you own the place," he said. "Hold your head up. Don't show weakness. Imagine that everyone wishes they were dressed like you."

"Even the boys?" I asked, half laughing, half scoffing.

"Especially the boys," he replied.

So I tried to imagine Jerry wishing he were dressed like me, and Mr. Bruce wishing he were dressed like me. Then I imagined Jerry and Mr. Bruce wearing the too-short skirt and silly top, and burst out laughing.

"That's the spirit!" Jerry said. "Now you're ready, so let's go!"

We opened a door onto a hallway full of students and noise. I froze for a moment, took a step back, and told Jerry in a low voice, "We should wait until class starts and the halls are empty." He looked disappointed.

"I have to get to class myself," he replied. "If we don't go now, I won't be able to walk you to the office."

That made me stop and reconsider. I really didn't know where the principal's office was. I had no idea at all, and I sure didn't look forward to wandering the halls alone again, especially dressed the way I was. So I took a deep breath and said, "Okay, let's go."

Jerry led me by the arm up the center of the hallway. He saw how frightened and nervous I felt, so he kept talking to me the whole time. I tried to do what he said: I kept my head up, I smiled, I imagined people in the crowd dressed as I was. Then I noticed the strangest thing: Most people didn't even look at me. They were so busy moving or talking with their friends that at most they gave me a quick glance. With Jerry's encouragement, I was beginning to feel less nervous and more confident. Well... not exactly confident, but at least now I felt like I wasn't going to die this way.

But then my fragile confidence broke. Some boy said, "Oh, baby! Check out those legs!" and I lost it. It seemed like everyone was suddenly looking at me. All I saw was a sea of faces, all turned in my direction. I was crazy to ever think I could get away with this: I had to cut and run. My smile fell, and my head started jerking back and forth, looking for an exit. Jerry saw me falter. I don't think he could feel my heart racing, but he could see the terror written on my face. He had no idea why I was so afraid, but he tried to said something. I'm sure it something kind and encouraging, and it might have helped if I had heard it, but there was so much noise I could only see his lips moving. A wave of panic swept through me, but the very instant before I cut into a frenzied run, a woman's voice cracked like a whip through the hallway chaos. When she spoke, I froze like a statue, and everyone else fell silent. "You! Young lady! Stop right there!" I think most of the girls in the hallway also froze, half-afraid she was talking to them. The rest of the students looked around, wondering who she was talking to, and glad it wasn't them. Her voice boomed out, "Stop! You, in the short blue skirt, showing off your legs! I'm talking to you!"

Jerry muttered, "Holy crap!" and with a reluctant "Sorry, Marcie," let go of my right arm as a strong, bony hand grabbed hold of my left.

"Off we go!" the woman bellowed. "Straight to the principal's office!"

"That's where I was going," I told her. "Somebody took my clothes!"

"Save it," she commanded.

I tried again to explain that I was on my way to the office, that I needed help, but the teacher, who was a good foot taller than me and quite a bit stronger, wouldn't listen. The other students, relieved to know that they weren't this woman's target, visibly relaxed. The hallway erupted into whistles, cheers, shouts, and applause, although I didn't know how any of it was intended. I think they were somehow trying to encourage me, but it was hard to tell.

The teacher pulled me through the hallway, but she wasn't hurting me. She just didn't let me stop. I was as helpless as a rag doll in her grasp.

I didn't want to stare, but I shot some quick glances at her. I didn't want to make her any angrier than she already seemed to be.

She looked like the old drawings of the Queen of Hearts, from Alice In Wonderland, with that frightening, frowning face.

I had no idea what I'd done to set her off, but it's not as though anything that happened made sense so far today.

We passed what seemed like hundreds of students and teachers, who all looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. I didn't like being the object of so much interest, so it was a positive relief when we finally landed in the principal's office.

... or at least his outer office. There was a row of chairs against one wall and a rack of small cubby holes — the kind that teachers use as mailboxes — against another wall. There was a desk near an inner door, the door to the principal's real office, and a counter between that desk and the row of chairs. The gym teacher, Ms. Price, was there, on my side of the counter, talking to the secretary, who was on the other side. When I caught sight of the secretary, I remembered with a smile that she is my Aunt Jane's best friend. She had to help me. For the first time, I felt that everything was going to be all right. I liked the office: it was clean and bright and quiet. I had no idea, of course, how much of that office I was going to see during my time at Tierson High.

When I first entered, Ms. Price said, "Oh, here she is..." but trailed off when she saw who I was with. "Oh, Marcie," Ms. Price said with a concerned frown, "What happened to you? I thought you'd get here ahead of me."

In answer I looked up at the Queen of Hearts lookalike standing next to me. I wanted to say, What happened to me? She happened to me. That's what happened to me. Then I looked from Ms. Price's eyes to the hand on my arm, to try to tell her, I'm her prisoner now.

"I need to see Mr. Bryant," the woman bellowed. "This girl is in flagrant violation of the dress code. Flagrant violation. Arm in arm with her boyfriend, as cool as you please, parading her naked legs up and down the hallways."

"Marcie," Ms. Price asked, "why didn't you get changed before you came here?"

"He isn't my boyfriend," I said, going white.

"And your clothes?" Ms. Price prompted.

"Somebody took them," I said.

"A likely story," the other teacher scoffed. "Ten to one she came to school this way."

Ms. Price asked, "Someone stole your clothes out of your locker?"

"No," I said, blushing. "They weren't in a locker. They were sitting on a shelf..."

"A shelf?" the other teacher repeated. "You stupid girl! Do you expect anyone to believe such nonsense? A shelf! Are you trying to tell us you changed your clothes in the library?"

The principal's door opened, and a bald man with glasses and a disapproving expression looked into the room.

"Mrs. Zeff!" he said in a cautioning tone. "Would you please lower your voice? And someone tell me: what on earth is going on out here? No, please don't answer; I take that back. I heard everything from my office, and I don't want to hear it again. You, young lady, what is your name?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Which name should I say? Before I could decide, Ms. Price came to the rescue. "Her name is Marcie Donner, Mr. Bryant. She's an add. A ninth grader."

"First of all, your clothes," he said. "Is there anyone at home who could bring you something more appropriate to wear?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "My aunt might be working."

Mr. Bryant gestured to his secretary. "Ms. Trujillo, could you make a call?" He then drew Mrs. Zeff into his office.

"You know my aunt, don't you?" I asked the secretary. "Her name is Jane Donner. She said she's a friend of yours."

"I don't know your aunt," she replied, looking a little irritated. "Can you tell me her number?"

I was confused. I was sure Aunt Jane had told me that the secretary was her best friend. Ms. Trujillo tapped her pencil and asked for the phone number again. With a little fumbling, and some blank moments, I managed to remember it.

"No answer," she said. "Looks like your aunt's not home."

"Then I'm sunk," I said. "Unless I can go home by myself."

Both women told me that was out of the question.

"I have an idea!" Ms. Price exclaimed, and whispered something to Ms. Trujillo.

"You can try," said Ms. Trujillo with a shrug. "I hope you're right. Otherwise, she'll end up spending the day in here. And while you're off doing that, I'll get these add's done." To me, she said, "Have a seat over there, hon. I think Mrs. Zeff is going to be in there for a long time."

She put her head down and got busy with some paperwork. To herself she muttered, "This part I can do, but the rest... I don't know. I'll just leave a note!"

I watched the clock. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Mrs. Zeff and the principal were still going at it. I couldn't believe they were talking that long about me. Still, all I could do was wait. I looked down at my legs. I straightened my skirt. Oddly, I was beginning to get used to what I was wearing. It was like a Halloween costume, I guess. After a while you forget that you have it on.

A little more time passed, then Ms. Price returned, flushed and a little out of breath.

"I found some things," she said. "They look like they're about your size," she said as she handed me a pile of clothes. "They were in lost and found, but they seem perfectly clean. I found this black bag, too, where you can put your... gym outfit. Isn't it cool?" She held up the bag, turning it this way and that. I had to admit that the bag was pretty nice. I liked it enough that I'd probably use it when I went back to being Mark.

"And here's a plastic bag for your shoes," Ms. Price continued. She seemed to enjoy unloading all these presents on me. Then she stopped, bent close to my ear and whispered, "I know it might seem icky, but I managed to find you some underwear. Don't worry: I'm sure it's clean." With a small friendly smile, she pushed me into a tiny bathroom behind the secretary's desk. "Try to be quick," she said. "I think the principal will be easier on you if you're dressed properly."

She caught the door as I was closing it, and whispered, "Have you ever worn a bra?"

My eyes grew big and I shook my head no.

"I found one that must have belonged to a small girl like you. It has a tiny bit of padding. Try it on, okay? If it doesn't work, I can always rummage a little more."

I locked the door, and looked through the clothes. Of course, they were girl's clothes. There was an aqua tiered skirt that fell to just above my knees, and a white top with long, loose sleeves that ended a couple inches above my wrists. There was also a pair of light brown shoes that looked like slippers. I didn't see that I had much choice: it was either this or the idiotic gym skirt, so I quickly dressed and came out of the bathroom. I was stuffing the gym clothes and sneakers into the nice black bag, when I noticed the way the two women were looking at me.

"Why aren't you wearing the bra?" Ms. Price asked. "I got it because you really need it with that top."

I blushed. "I didn't see a bra," I replied, and turned to look in the bathroom. Both women stifled their laughter.

The bra was hanging out of my waistband in the back. Ms. Price pulled it out, handed it to me, and pushed me back into the bathroom. When I came out the second time, Mr. Bryant was also there, and Mrs. Zeff was gone.

"Much better," Mr. Bryant said. "Big improvement. Thank you, Ms. Price."

Ms. Price gave me a wink and a smile, waved a small pack of papers at me, and left the office.

"Now come with me," Mr. Bryant said, and entered his office.

We both sat down and were silent for a minute. I opened my mouth and was about to explain what had happened to me, but he began talking first. He asked me, "Do you know that we have a dress code at this school?"

"No, sir."

He raised his eyebrows. "You don't?"

"No, sir..." I started again to explain, but he held up his hand to stop me.

"If I were to ask you for example, whether sneakers are acceptable footwear, what would you say?"

"Yes?"

"No."

I frowned in surprise.

He rubbed his chin. "You're new. Apparently you're an 'add' just arriving today, so I don't want to be too hard on you. However, you ran afoul of Mrs. Zeff, and she has put you on her blacklist. I wouldn't worry about that IF — and I stress the IF — if you don't violate the dress code again. And *if* you avoid getting into any other trouble. You don't look like a troublemaker. You're not a troublemaker, are you?"

"No, sir." I said. "Do I have detention?"

"No," he said. "Nothing so serious. This time, anyway. I think — and hope — that Mrs. Zeff put the fear of God into you. Can you sit there for a moment? I'll be right back." Mr. Bryant went to the outer office and talked with his secretary. As he opened the door to come back in, he was saying, "... two copies: one with the letter, and the other in an unsealed envelope by itself."

Then, as if he were meeting me for the first time, Mr. Bryant chatted. He asked about my family, about my aunt, about the move, and whether I liked living in Tierson. I began to relax, and for the third time was about to explain my situation, when there came a soft tap at the door. Ms. Trujillo entered, holding two envelopes, which she placed on Mr. Bryant's desk. Mr. Bryant waited until she left, then said. "Well, here's your punishment. I think you'll have to admit that you're getting off pretty easy. However, if you don't take this seriously, we'll have to come up with something more memorable." He handed me the two envelopes. "As you can see, one envelope is for you and the other is for your aunt. Your envelope has something I want you to memorize. And please take it seriously, because Mrs. Zeff might stop you in the hall and ask you to recite it for her, as well.

"Have your aunt sign her note, so I know that she's read it. Tomorrow morning, you need to come to school ten minutes early, and report directly here to me. Bring the note, signed, and be ready to recite that text. Okay?"

I nodded. This was going to be easy. "You'll also be coming here so that I can check that you conform to the dress code. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, sir," I said. Especially when I explain that I'm a boy.

He continued, "And you will do that for the following two weeks, making eleven school days total. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

He stood up. Something in the way he did it made me stand as well. He came around the desk and ushered me out the door.

"There is something else I need to talk to you about," I said. "It's pretty important."

"I'm sorry, but it will have to wait until tomorrow," he told me.

"But—"

"Tomorrow," he repeated, kindly but firmly, and he shut his office door. I was about to knock, when he suddenly opened the door again. "Oh, there is one more thing," he said, "and then I really have to leave you. It's in the note to your aunt, but I forgot to mention it to you. Make sure you wear a dress for the next two weeks. One that fits the dress code. No jeans, no pants, no shorts, etc. A dress or a skirt. Understood?"

Then, before I could say another word, he shut the door a second time.

© 2006, 2007 by Kaleigh Way