A Bikini Beach Summer
by Daphne Xu

Part 5
Luke Gets a Two-Week Membership

Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him.

Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected.

Tuesday, July 1

Of course, the next morning after breakfast, we had to listen to the Lesson on cassette. We had to listen to my voice croaking out the Biblical readings. Ugh! It sounded like I was speaking through my nose, and I was frequently pausing for breath. I just couldn't bear the sound. I kept cringing.

"Luke! Sit still and don't make faces," snapped Pa.

I sat back in my seat, eyes close, fuming. Damn you, Pa. I just might erase the lesson, I thought to myself, knowing I'd never work up the nerve to actually do it.

After Pa left for work, Ruth told me, "Ma's not taking us to Bikini Beach today. Instead, Helen's mom's coming to pick us up." Helen was Ruth's friend at Bikini Beach. I'd met her a couple times. She was a little black girl, about Ruth's age.

"They'll be here shortly," confirmed Ma. "So get ready."

I quickly went upstairs to my room. I found all the notes I'd left for myself Saturday, urging me to wear my swimming trunks to Bikini Beach. "Important!" "Please don't forget!" Like, what else would I wear? A bikini?

Maybe I was telling myself to put my swimming trunks on at home and actually wear them to Bikini Beach, rather than putting them on there. That was an idea. I'd be able to spend less time changing, and more time with my friends having fun. So I removed my jeans and put them in a bag to bring. I put on my swimming trunks and a pair of flip-flops, feeling a little embarrassed wearing those at home. I kept a tee-shirt on, though.

I was ready, carrying my bag containing pants, towel, sunscreen, and other necessary elements. I was very nervous about going with a strange family. I kept wondering if I'd inadvertently say or do something and get in trouble.

Ruth had changed as well, into a green-red striped one-piece swimsuit, a towel draped around her neck.

The doorbell rang, and Ma entered the living room with Helen and her mother. "Hi Helen!" exclaimed Ruth, giving her a hug. "Hi, Mrs. King."

"Hello," I greeted them both.

Ma spoke with Mrs. King a bit, and gave her some cash. "Have a good day, everyone!" said Ma, as I followed them out to their SUV. A couple other girls around Ruth and Helen's age were waiting impatiently, along with--

"Hey, Luke!" came a familiar voice as I climbed into the SUV.

"Vernon!" I was surprised to recognize him; I never knew he was Helen's older brother. Vernon was a cheerful, carefree, laid-back guy, about my height. I wished I were more like him.

We arrived at Bikini Beach in due course. Ruth, Helen, and the other girls chattered, and Vernon and I were talking when Vernon interrupted himself, calling out loudly, "Hey, Carol!"

I turned and looked where he faced, and spotted Carol walking with Nancy and Cindy toward the turnstile Carol looked around, and Vernon shouted out, "Carol, over here!" At that moment, Carol saw us and her radiant smile lit up the world. "Hi, guys!" she shouted.

She briefly turned to her sister and exchanged a few words, then approached us while her sister and Cindy went on. She looked so fine, in her white semi-tank-top with the Bikini-Beach logo. The tank-top went over her right shoulder, while a spaghetti strap went over her left shoulder. Her neon-green bikini showed through, and her bikini bottom crotch peeked out underneath. Her legs went on forever down to her feet in flip-flops.

But it was her winning face, with her brilliant smile, that caught me the most.

I vaguely heard a woman behind us in line saying something about Bikini Beach's purpose in letting girls enjoy themselves without being ogled by boys -- case in point here. I was all caught up in the wonderful vision of exotic loveliness, when Ruth pounded me on the shoulder. "Luke! You're drooling!"

"Oh, um, hi Carol!" I stammered, realizing only now how I'd been staring, and how my swimming trunks were poking out in a tent. I instinctively slammed my legs together, lowering my hands in a vain attempt to hide it.

Carol giggled. "Hey, Luke, I see you're happy to see me. It's wonderful to see you, too." She giggled again and hugged me. My arms automatically rose around her waist, and we pressed briefly against each other. This was a lot more familiar, and I felt as happy as I'd ever been.

The embrace was all too brief, before she pulled back and greeted Vernon with the same embrace. "Hi, Vernon!" I flamed with jealousy. I kept telling myself that we all routinely hugged each other as friends.

We chatted as the line inched forward. At one point, Carol said, "Nancy and I both have summer passes."

"Then why wait in line," asked Vernon, "when you can bypass it?"

"Oh, I like being with you guys, talking with you." Carol glanced at me, flashing a smile, and I felt giddy all over again.

Ruth broke in from her own conversation with the younger girls to say, "I have an eight-year membership, myself."

"Eight years!" How could Ma have done that for Ruth? Eight years was like, forever! Ruth was only nine years old now. So why did I need to get a day-pass every time we came to Bikini Beach? Ma, Ruth, and I could skip the line and go directly in. It was so unfair that Ruth got an eight-year membership and I didn't.

"Our two-week passes just finished," said Helen. "We're getting new ones. "Mom, can't I get a longer pass?"

"We'll see, dear."

We eventually reached the sales booth. Helen's mother asked about passes and memberships. I fogged out on the conversation that followed, which went on for some time and got rather boring. But Vernon got another two-week pass.

Mrs. King turned to me. "And how about you, Luke?"

I didn't know. "Ma always got me one-day passes. I think that I should stick to that. But a two-week membership seems much cheaper." I was scared that I'd get in trouble or something if I went for that. I was always scared of doing something wrong and getting in trouble. "Um, did Ma give you enough money?"

"Don't worry about it, darling," answered Mrs. King.

Hesitating, I decided. "How about the two-week pass?"

The saleslady gave me a card like a credit card -- much fancier than the usual day-pass. "Hold onto this carefully," the saleslady admonished me. "And remember to shower." Sigh, we were always told this.

After passing through the turnstile, we split up. Vernon and I went to the small men's changing room. I took off my tee-shirt, and placed my stuff in one of the lockers before going to the showers.

To my surprise, Vernon joined me in the shower nude. I instinctively shut my eyes and looked away. I soaped myself clean, carefully avoiding seeing my companion, and I noticed again the usual vague sense of pink.

I turned to Vanessa and asked, "Did you notice any, well, pink or something?" Now, I felt very silly asking. It was most likely my imagination, or a trick of the light.

"It always accompanies the change," Vanessa answered.

"Um, the change?" What was she talking about?

She looked down at me, and I looked down at myself and suddenly realized that -- "Dammit! I did it again!" Oops, I spoke it out loud, interrupting what Vanessa was about to say. I had to explain now, not recalling if I'd explained it before. "Pa hates it when girls wear bikinis, or go out in public in skimpy clothing. He grudgingly tolerates the one-piece swimsuit as needed for swimming, but hates bikinis.

"I keep wearing my bikini here," I continued in frustration. "I've been leaving myself notes to remind me. But I just ignore the notes. I just don't know what I was thinking! Ahhhhhhh!" I was really distressed now. Twice now, I'd ignored the notes I'd left for myself.

I burst into tears. Vanessa took me in her arms, held me against her, my head pressed up against her breasts. "Darling, darling,..." she repeated. "It's okay; it's okay, darling. You're at Bikini Beach now, and everything will turn out fine."

I finished crying at some point and pulled away.

"Let's go find the other girls," Vanessa said as we returned to our lockers. "I'm concerned about Jen," she continued, hooking her white top on. "I hope she stays with us, and we can help her." She stepped into her bikini bottom and slid it up. Meanwhile, I was covering myself carefully with sunscreen.

Alice, Becky, and Jen were outside chatting, and as we ran over to join them, Carol ran up from the opposite direction. We were all together again.

Vanessa, Alice, and I did the gymnastics thing again, and Becky joined us this time. I was surprised to discover that I had improved over last Saturday even without any practice. I spotted Ruth and Helen in the class, off in the distance. Of course, with years of ballet, it wasn't difficult for either of us. But it was definitely different.

After lunch, we were relaxing and soaking up the sun's rays, and casually chatting. Carol said, "I saw Randy Ling perform on TV Sunday night. I've preordered his new CD."

"Is he your latest crush, or something?" asked Alice.

"No!" Carol answered way too quickly. "He's only 12, for crying out loud!"

"That's like robbing the cradle, Carol," said Vanessa.

"Carol's in love with a 12-year-old! Carol's in love with a 12-year-old!" sang out Becky.

I had no idea who this Randy was, but I felt that they were teasing Carol just a bit too much. "He's on TV? What does he do?"

"He plays flute," answered Carol. "I watched him perform `The Incredible Flutist' -- I think that's what it was. He's really an incredible flutist."

"Okay, Carol's in love with a 12-year-old boy who plays the flute," said Alice. "What kind of boy plays the flute?"

"Tracy played flute in the band," said Becky.

"Tracy, your big brother?" asked Alice.

"Yeah. You interested in him?"

"No! I mean--" Alice broke off.

"He is rather cute. You just might like him," said Becky.

"Why don't you bring him here some time?" I asked Becky.

"I really doubt that Tracy would like being a girl," she said as she giggled.

I would have laughed along with everyone else at Becky's joke, if not for the sarcasm behind it. Of course, how could I have forgotten that this was a girls-only water park? I flushed and hid my face in embarrassment.

Jen said in a soft voice, "Who's to say?"

"He might actually enjoy it for a day," added Vanessa.

"Oh, stop it! Stop it, all of you!" I said. "Okay, I said something stupid. You don't have to pile it on! Becky, you were going to tell us about your brother and your family." Anything to get away from my awful blunder.

"Okay, okay," answered Becky. "Tracy's seventeen. He managed to graduate from high school a year early, and starts at Pacific Tech this fall."

"You sound almost as if you're in love with him," teased Alice.

"What? No-no-no-no-no-no-no, that's just squicky!" Becky pantomimed shoving something disgusting away. "Like I said, you might like him. In any case, I haven't seen him this summer since a couple weeks after graduation."

"Why not? What happened?" asked Jen softly. "Did he leave?"

"No," answered Becky. "For some reason, I have no idea why, my parents packed me up and sent me to stay with my aunt. It was she who introduced me to Bikini Beach, and, um..." she trailed off with a blush and a giggle.

"Then what?" I asked, curious.

"Nothing, nothing." She blushed even further, giggling all the more.

"I get it," said Alice. "You got a boyfriend, and --"

"No!"

"-- you had sex."

"No-no-no!" Becky burst into tears.

"Dear Becky," said Alice. "We are all friends here. You can confide in us. We'll only tease you a little bit."

This conversation was getting embarrassing -- naughty even. I just sat still, frozen, all nerves.

"No! I never had sex. Not even my breasts felt up." Becky cupped her breasts and swooshed them about, inadvertently liberating one from her bikini top. She tucked it back in. "Satisfied? Now how about you? Are you innocent and virginal, Alice?"

"Me? What does that have to do with anything."

"Alice, it's only fair, after what you did to Becky." Vanessa gave Alice a stern look.

"Okay, okay. I'm a virgin."

"How about you, Lucy?" asked Vanessa, as all eyes turned toward me.

"No! Never done it. Never even went out with a boy!" I wasn't going to mention my crush on my clarinet teacher, no, never.

"Carol?" We all looked at her. I was relieved at losing the attention, and curious about what she'd say.

"I'm a virgin," said Carol.

"Jen?" She was a year younger than the rest of us, and the newest member of our group. Surely she was innocent. She buried her face in her hands, and it looked like she was crying.

"Jen, you okay?" asked Carol. Jen continued to cry.

"We're all friends here, you don't have to hold it in," said Vanessa. She slid over to Jen, and put her arm around her.

"Okay, okay, I admit it. I've had... had... had," she bawled and buried her face in Vanessa's bosom.

"Sex, you mean?" asked Becky.

Her face still buried, Jen nodded.

"Your friend," said Carol. "The one in jail."

Jen nodded again, and slowly pulled her face away from Vanessa. "Tim was the greatest, the gentlest ever. He would never--" She took a sob. "Kill or r-r-r-rape anyone."

"Darling, darling," said Vanessa. "Tell us about Tim."

"It was last January. I was riding my bicycle to the library after school, and I slipped and fell and scraped myself. Tim came by and helped me. He carried both me and my bike to his apartment a couple blocks away, then helped me clean and bandage my scrapes.

"I stayed and talked a while with him. I think I fell in love right then. He took me home, me and my bike. My parents weren't happy about my meeting a black high-school senior, but they were nice about his treating my injuries."

Jen afterwards always stopped at his apartment after school, instead of the library, to do her homework. She began sneaking around, and they did other things together as well -- going to movies, playing games, walking in the park.

"I met his older brother Andy, as well. They shared the apartment. He was much older; he'd finished college and had a job. I overheard him warning Tim about `jailbait'."

"Hey, get to the good stuff!" said Becky. "Like when you got naked with him."

"Becky!" exclaimed Vanessa, as Jen turned her face down. I was shocked at Becky, myself.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Becky defensively. "We're all practically naked now -- most of us." Becky nodded toward Alice in her one-piece swimsuit.

"Becky, that's not the point!" said Vanessa. "Go ahead, Jen. Tell it the way you want."

"It felt utterly cosy, the best thing ever, just sitting on his lap, his arms around me, kissing or watching a movie, his arm slipping under my skirt and ... and ... touching me ... there." Jen flushed.

This was definitely getting embarrassing. I briefly imagined someone touching me down there, feeling my face flush and burn. Becky giggled a quiet high-pitched giggle.

"Yes, we got naked," admitted Jen. "We started by playing a study game. If we got something wrong, we had to take off a piece of clothing. Later, we got naked every time I went to his apartment. His brother saw me naked a few times. Tim was very gentle with his hands, and his tongue was so ... so ... wonderful!" She flushed again and faced down.

Oh God, please! Imagining someone's tongue down there, I just couldn't. I breathed heavily, trying to properly catch my breath, and my bikini bottom got unnaturally wet.

"I fell in love with his ... his ... thing, you know."

"Dick," said Becky with a slight giggle. "Or cock. Did you use your mouth on it?"

Jen nodded hesitatingly.

"Did you swallow his cum?" Becky continued mischievously.

Alice said, "Ewwwww!" Vanessa said, "Becky!" and I felt about to heave, even as Jen nodded again.

"How did it taste?" asked Becky.

"So-so. Sort-of blah. A little salty. Eventually, after practice, it was emitted too far down my throat to taste."

"Deep-throating, eh? When did you fuck?" asked Becky.

I froze. Jen froze. Carol froze. Alice froze. Did the whole world suddenly freeze?

"Now that's enough!" snapped Vanessa as she whipped Becky on her side with her towel. Becky sprang to her feet, shouted "Hah!" and landed in a stance near Vanessa as if ready to fight. Vanessa stood up nonchalantly, and raised herself to her full height, towering over Becky.

"Please, please, I never meant to..." Jen jumped between Vanessa and Becky, looking about to cry. "He refused to ... fuck ... me until my birthday, last April. It was my thirteenth birthday present from him. Shortly after, we were caught."

"Oh, no!" said Becky.

"Mom and Dad caught me naked at his apartment. Mom stopped Dad from beating me, but I couldn't go out except for school. After school ended for the summer, I couldn't go out at all, except for summer Cantonese classes. I snuck out and visited his apartment once at night, but the night bike ride was so utterly scary, that I never did it again, even though it was so wonderful being with him. He took me home himself, so I didn't have to experience that night bike ride home again."

Then Tim was arrested for murder. It occurred to me that maybe Jen was better off without him. At least someone else got murdered, not her. But even I, as bubble-headed as I could be at times, knew better than to say that.

"Mom kept showing me articles about Tim. But he didn't do it, I just know it! He's not like that. He wouldn't hurt a fly! He's so gentle and kind."

Jen continued her story. She became virtually catatonic, not eating, barely ever moving. Someone suggested Bikini Beach for help, and here she was. "Thank you all -- Vanessa in particular."

We all lay still in absolute silence for the next minute. Then Becky, in tears, hugged her. We all did.

"I said it before, we've all said it before, and meant it. We're all friends here," said Vanessa.

"Just one thing, Vanessa," said Becky, pulling Vanessa off away from the rest of us. I barely heard the rest of it: "Don't ever swat me like that again."

We spent the rest of the afternoon rather soberly doing some of the restful, mild rides such as the river raft. I was feeling scared. First, Alice's cousin raped and murdered, then someone (if not Jen's friend) committing a murder.

All good things had to come to an end, and we had to go home. Vanessa's mom took Ruth and me home, and briefly came into the house with us. Ma wasn't home -- she had a Firmlove meeting that evening -- but Mrs. King spoke with Pa. I was nervous about Pa's reaction, and went down to the basement.

Turns out there was no reaction, not until Ma got back home later that evening. I was up in my room reading, when Ma knocked on the door.

"Yes, Ma?" I recognized Ma's knock, slower and lighter than Pa's knock, slower and heavier than Ruth's knock.

Ma entered with a serious expression. "Lucy, Mrs. King got you a two-week pass to Bikini Beach, is that right?"

My heart fluttered as I hesitatingly answered, "Yes." I knew I shouldn't have accepted a gift like that. I just knew it.

But after a moment, Ma said, "I think it was a splendid idea." It was almost as if she were talking to herself. "Someone said ... danger ... I didn't really pay attention. Also, it would do us all good to experience ... for two weeks. Yes... Yes..." Ma left the room nodding to herself.

What WAS that all about? What kind of danger? I jumped up and chased out of the room after Ma. "Ma, what kind of danger? Was I in any danger?"

"Lucy, of course I wouldn't put you in danger. Focus on the Truth. You are the God's perfect child, and God's perfect child cannot be put in danger. Accidents are unknown in Science."

"Oh." I returned to my room, not knowing what to think.

At that point, I remembered I meant to leave notes reminding me to wear a one-piece suit to Bikini Beach, not my contraband bikini. I spent the next several minutes jotting down notes, pinning them to every piece of swimwear, taping them to my closet doors and the door out of my room and various other places, including my mirror.

I was determined not to forget again.

The idea occurred to me. I shouldn't lean on my own strength -- strength of character in this case, and also strength of self-persuasion -- but trust in God instead. So I got out my Bible and "Science and Health" and began reading.

********************************

A Bikini Beach Summer
by Daphne Xu

Part 6
Lucy's Next Few Days

Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him.

Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected.

Wednesday, July 2

I woke up bright and early Wednesday morning, and got up and put on a bathrobe to cross the hallway for my shower. I had sharp bikini tan lines from Bikini Beach, and I didn't want Pa to see them (or to see me undressed in any case). Why did I keep wearing bikinis to Bikini Beach, even after leaving notes reminding me not to? Ruth always wore one-pieces, except that first day, now that I thought of it. Next time, I vowed for sure I would wear a one-piece. I checked; the notes I left last night were still there.

After my nice warm shower, I returned to my room and got out my clarinet. I closed my eyes and played a random, soothing melody, with the vision of Brandon's face floating in front of my eyes.

After about five minutes of this, I shook myself out of this reverie and got out Klose for serious practice.

Some time later, Ma knocked at my door and called out, "Breakfast time, Lucy!" I quickly disassembled my clarinet, running the swab through each piece. I put on my bathrobe, noticing for an instant that I'd been practicing in the nude, and went down for breakfast.

Over breakfast, we listened to the Mental Work. I listened avidly, with my eyes closed to minimize outside distractions. "It shall be the duty of every member of this church to defend himself daily against aggressive mental suggestion..." The danger of mental malpractice -- animal magnetism, mesmerism, hypnotism -- could not be overstated. All forms of mind-control were evil. It was important to defend oneself against these sins. "The mental malpractitioner is not and cannot be Christian Scientist. He is disloyal to God and man. He has every opportunity to mislead the human mind, and he uses it." "Stand porter at the door of thought."

Then came the Lesson-Sermon for the week. I was particularly excited because I had recorded the Bible part myself on Monday, playing the Second Reader to Ma's First Reader. It was a special privilege to do so, and I was rather proud of how I sounded on the tape.

Ruth went over to Daisy's house. I had to help Ma clean the house for an hour, but then I was allowed to go to the library. I had a few books to return. I packed up my ballet gear, as I wouldn't be returning home before ballet this afternoon.

In the young-adult section of the library, I looked left and right, and flushing, grabbed "Sassy" magazine and another which I had absolutely no idea to conceal the "Sassy."

I sat at a table, hoping against hope that nobody would see what I was reading. "Sassy" was such a naughty magazine, so contrary to Christian Science. It failed in both the moral issue and the emphasis on material sensual attractiveness. But I couldn't help myself; it was so exciting.

I saw an ad: "If you're old enough to get your period, you're old enough to forget your period. Period." The picture showed two girls whispering and giggling together in bed; it was an apparent sleepover. The girls looked about eleven. The ad was for tampons, but didn't say how tampons worked or what you did with them. I don't recall when I first heard of tampons, but only a few months ago did I actually find out what one did with a tampon. Oh God, actually sticking something up one's -- down there!

There was a section on "most embarrassing moments." A girl my age was with her boyfriend, standing in line at a beachfront booth. Her boyfriend, just behind her, noticed a bit of string dangling from the crotch of her swimsuit. He yanked on the string -- Ow!!! It was the string of her tampon, and it really hurt!

Another embarrassing moment happened to an eleven-year-old girl, when a boy pulled loose the bow-knot of her bikini bottoms, causing them to fall and exposing her naked bottom. I had limited sympathy for her, because she was already practically naked in her bikini.

There was an article about preteen girls and swimsuits and underwear. They noted a fashion newspaper headline, "Bikinis are Out; Thongs are In," -- ewwww! Imagine the string creeping up your behind! -- and questioned whether eleven- and twelve-year-old girls should wear thong underwear and swimwear, or stick to the conservative option of bikini wear.

I saw a picture of a red-headed freckled girl about my age, maybe a year older, in a neon-green bikini -- between two boys in swimming trunks. The boys' trunks went down below their knees, but the girl was practically naked. She reminded me of Alice, but was a lot taller and thinner. She had her arms around the boys' bare waists, and each boy had an arm around her -- as if they were both her boyfriends.

I cringed for the girl. Didn't she know how she was exposing herself? Not only would everyone at the beach see her, but anyone looking at this magazine as well. She was shamelessly exposing herself to the world!

I thought back about all my visits to Bikini Beach. I always wore my bikini, as brief as the one in the picture. And except for brief moments of self-consciousness, I hardly ever thought about it while being with my friends and having fun in the water. What was wrong with me, how could I ever have done such a thing? I felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. Pa was right about us girls wearing bikinis. At least Bikini Beach didn't have any boys there to see us.

I vowed again, this time for sure! I would wear one of my perfectly fine one-piece suits to Bikini Beach tomorrow.

Ruth and I both took the ballet class at 1:00. I had to make sure I arrived in time to change into my pink leotard, tights, and ballet shoes. I was already stretching at the barre when Ma arrived with Ruth.

As usual, Ma asked, "You sure you're okay with walking home together?"

"Yes, Ma. We'll be fine," Ruth answered with a hint of exasperation.

After class, the teacher informed us that there would be no class on Friday, July 4th. I slid my jeans on over my ballet outfit and changed my shoes, and walked home with Ruth.

Since today was Wednesday, we had the Wednesday evening meeting at church this evening. I always looked forward to the Wednesday evening testimony meetings, although I was scared of actually standing up and giving my own testimony in front of the congregation.

We arrived at church about 15 minutes early. Pa, Ruth, and I went to our usual bench while Ma did her usual socializing, before joining us just as the incidental organ music began.

The service opened with one of my favorite hymns, "Onward Christian Soldiers." The music was almost march-like, with the thrill of victory. Following the hymn, the First Reader read from the Bible and "Science and Health." It was one of several reading sets the Reader rotated through, so we eventually got familiar with the same readings every couple of months. Then we recited the Lord's Prayer and sang our second hymn, one I wasn't familiar with.

Most of the second part was dedicated to congregation members giving "testimonials of healing and remarks on Christian Science." While waiting in silence, I dreaded the moment I would have to get up and actually give a testimony myself. I heard shuffling in the back and saw the First Reader nod his head with a smile.

I listened carefully as an elderly woman gave her testimony. "I am so grateful for Christian Science, for the numerous demonstrations I've had over the years." She went on to discuss a "claim of a sudden pain in my head." Going to "Science and Health," she'd turned to a passage declaring the pleasures and pains of the material senses but illusion of Mortal Mind. "God is all-in-all, and man is the reflection of God. We can no more experience pain than God can. As soon as I thoroughly understood that, the pain ceased. I am so grateful for Christian Science and for Mary Baker Eddy's discovery."

"Thank you," acknowledged the First Reader, as the woman sat back down.

I had never given a testimony. It was simply too scary to stand up in front of the congregation, everyone's eyes on you, and talk. I was just too shy, too fearful. Ahah! came the epiphany That was Error, whispering in my ear, telling me that I was shy and fearful. I only had to work to correct -- no, exterminate -- the Error. The sentence, "The exterminator of Error is the great Truth that God is the only Mind."

A man stood up. "Radical reliance on God, not timid conservatism, Mrs. Eddy admonishes. This summer gives me the opportunity to truly understand what radical reliance means. My nine-year-old granddaughter, Beth, is visiting for the summer. Putting their trust in Materia Medica, her parents give Beth a daily injection for a claim which Materia Medica deems incurable -- injections claimed to simply let her live with the disease.

"Radical reliance on God means understanding fully that disease is but a false belief, and is unreal. Radical reliance cannot be mixed with Materia Medica, which only fuels the belief. I have taken Beth off the injections, and stopped her daily blood readings, and fully trust God to defeat the claim of disease once and for all. God is all-powerful and all-in-all, and will not fail."

The man sat down as the First Reader nodded, "Thank you." I should follow his example, and fully rely upon God. What was that passage with Jesus in the Bible? "Lord, I believe! Help thou me my unbelief!" Something like that.

We ended the service with a third hymn, one by Mary Baker Eddy herself. "It matters not what be thy lot,..." The service ended promptly with the end of the hymn.

I dozed off in the car, as we drove home. Once we got home, I made my way to my bedroom and just barely managed to get the good dress off before conking out in bed. I didn't bother with pajamas.

Thursday, July 3

We returned to Bikini Beach the next day. For once, I actually remembered my vow to wear a one-piece suit instead of my bikini! I didn't even need the notes I'd left, to remind me. Rolling it up in my towel and procuring my sunscreen and other lotions, I kept wondering why I'd kept wearing my bikini to Bikini Beach, when Pa was so dead against girls wearing bikinis. Pa didn't even know I had one. If he ever found out...

I thought of this quote from "Science and Health": "Children should obey their parents. Insubordination is an evil, blighting the budding of self-government." I can't say I was completely disobeying my parents by having and wearing a bikini. At least Ma was okay with it, for Bikini Beach at least. She knew and kept the secret from Pa.

But I really didn't want to deceive or disobey Pa. And what about Christian Science and disagreements between spouses? There is but one Mind, and disagreements are unknown in Science.

I made sure I had my Bikini Beach membership card, and met Vanessa and Helen and Mrs. King. Ruth and I were going with them again to Bikini Beach. Ruth had already changed into her swimsuit. Come to think of it, Ruth always wore one-piece suits, except for that very first day to Bikini Beach. Hmmm. Maybe she was afraid of forgetting her bikini top again.

In the women's changing room, as I slipped my one-piece suit on, I realized anew that I'd finally remembered to wear a one-piece instead of my bikini! "Yah!" I exclaimed, and suddenly blushed as everyone looked at me strangely. Alice and Carol must have heard me, because they immediately joined us. Alice exclaimed, "Oh, I just love your swimsuit! You look so cool!"

"It looks great on you," added Carol.

I blushed and looked down, not knowing what to say. I eventually came out with, "Pa hates it when girls wear bikinis. I don't even know why I've been wearing one every time before."

"Well, it is called Bikini Beach, you know," said Alice, a bit ironically in her own one-piece.

A little later, as we waited in line for one of the steep water slides, Becky and Jen joined us. So all six of us were together again; that was so wonderful!

Jen showed us a flier I'd seen scattered around, but didn't pay attention to. Tomorrow was July 4th, and Bikini Beach was going to celebrate, starting at three in the afternoon and continuing until ten at night.

"Is anyone coming tomorrow?" asked Jen.

"Me," answered Alice.

"Helen and I are singing in one of their choruses," said Vanessa.

That was interesting. "I hope I can come and see it," I said.

"I'll be there to see you for sure," said Becky.

"Me too!" added Alice.

"I really hope I can come," said Jen.

I kept wondering about Jen throughout the day, how she was dealing with the situation of her former boyfriend. I had no idea what to say, so I didn't say anything, and she never brought it up. I did notice Jen and Vanessa discreetly going off to the side together a few times. I wondered...

As we rode the Old Man River raft ride, I found myself thinking and dreaming about clarinet lessons tomorrow with Brandon. Of course, I never called him that to his face -- always Mr. Oregon. But a girl could dream, and I did.

"Earth to Lucy, come in Lucy!" called Alice. "We're getting off now. We're going to the wave pool."

"Say Lucy, who's Brandon?" asked Carol, as we headed off.

"Nobody," I quickly answered, blushing furiously.

"Mmm Hmmmm. `Nobody' has just given Lucy a serious sunburn then," said the usually shy Jen, surprising me.

"He's just my clarinet teacher," I tried to explain.

"Sure," giggled Becky. "JUST her clarinet teacher. I bet you wish he was something more."

"Stop it!" I cried.

"Darling," said Vanessa. "We're all friends here. You don't have to be embarrassed at anything. You can tell us about your crush."

I couldn't help blushing at that.

"Ooooooo, that clarinet teacher is making her blush," said Becky.

"And she calls him Brandon, not Mr. -- what's his last name?" added Jen.

"Oregon. Brandon Oregon, if you must know."

"The clarinet does have a sexy, romantic sound, in my view," said Carol.

Becky added, giggling, "And I've heard of kinky things a girl might do with a clarinet."

Oh God, that was just horrible! And it would be way too big to fit, too.

"That kind of stuff would make Lucy hate him, not fall in love with him," Vanessa said.

"I'm not in love with him!" I shouted angrily, utterly embarrassed, not wanting to admit my crush.

"The girl protests too much," said Alice.

"Lucy and Brandon up a tree," said Becky. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes Junior in a baby carriage."

"Be careful, Lucy," said Vanessa. "Things don't always happen in that order."

"Brandon doesn't even know about it!" I was appalled at the idea.

"Oh? There's very much something there for Brandon not to know, eh?" said Alice. Oh God, it seems I'd accidentally admitted it!

"Darling," said Vanessa. "Nothing's wrong with having a crush."

"Yeah, it happens to everyone," added Alice.

"You should be proud," said Becky. "Shout it to the world! `You can't have him; he's mine!'"

Everyone else laughed at that. I didn't feel like laughing. In fact, I was almost crying with embarrassment.

"So how old is Brandon?" asked Carol.

"Does he have gray hair?" asked Becky.

"Old enough to be your grandfather?" suggested Jen.

"No, no, no! Brandon's not like that at all!"

"So tell us. Tell us everything!" said Becky.

"He only in his twenties, or maybe his early thirties." I wished they would stop going on about this!

"So not a distinguished gray-haired old man then," said Becky. "Black hair? Tall, dark, and handsome?"

"Has he met your parents yet?" asked Alice.

"Of course! He's --"

"So what do they think of him as your boyfriend?" interrupted Becky.

"As I was about to say," I huffed in a loud voice, punctuating every syllable, hoping to avoid bursting in tears, "He has met my parents because he's my clarinet teacher. Got it?" I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Don't worry about us," said Carol, taking me into her arms and pressing my head up against her bosom. Funny, that was usually Vanessa's role. "We're all girls here. We like to tease, and we like anything to do with boys and romance. It's all in fun; it's just teasing. Right girls?" she shouted out to everyone.

"Right!" the other four answered in unison.

"We're all friends here," added Vanessa.

"So everyone, into the water!" shouted Becky, and we all jumped up and ran for the nearby pool.

I came up to the surface next to Carol, who was treading water and tying her bikini top back on. "I got just a bit over-enthusiastic there," she said. "Hey, race-ya to the other side!" She beat me handily, being the faster swimmer, but I had fun.

Eventually, the day ended. Vanessa's mom dropped Ruth and me off at home. The relief of not potentially being caught by Pa having worn a bikini was a major weight off my shoulders, even though I still had bikini tan lines from earlier.

We got home shortly before Ruth's bedtime, so I only got to practice a little on the clarinet. Afterwards, I practiced a half-hour on the piano in the living room. The piano teacher, Mrs. Prudence, was a nice old lady, and I didn't want to disappoint her.

Then I took my evening bath, and carefully shaved myself all over. Stubble was beginning to grow in, and I was itching just a bit, particularly in my crotch. I was feeling sexy about Brandon and seeing him tomorrow.

Friday, July 4

"Let's hear the F-major scale, the low octave," Brandon instructed. F... F... F... oh yes, fingers covered all holes, and one of the pinky keys. I put my clarinet to my mouth -- nothing came out. I blew harder -- still nothing.

"Okay, let's try playing C," said Brandon, obviously disappointed. That was just my left hand, covering all notes. I knew it like I knew my own name. I blew into the clarinet -- nothing again. My breath seemed caught in my throat.

"Okay, how about the open G." No keys pressed, no holes covered. Just blow in while supporting the clarinet with my right thumb. I briefly adjusted my bikini bottom with my free left hand, while attempting to blow the note.

I'd come to clarinet lessons directly from Bikini Beach. I'd never been so humiliated in my life, botching the clarinet in my bikini in front of Brandon. In my bikini! Oh-my-God-no-no-can't-be!

-- I awoke. Oh, gads, what a nightmare! I sat up in bed and breathed deeply a couple times. Oh, Brandon seeing me in a bikini, seeing me mangle the clarinet in a bikini! I got up and went to the bathroom to relieve myself, then returned to bed.

Whew! That was only a nightmare... only a nightmare... only a nightmare, I thought in relief as I joined Brandon in the clarinet lesson room. I sat down, assembled my clarinet, and absently adjusted my bikini top--

-- Oh God! I woke up again. Brandon seeing me in a bikini again. At least I hadn't bombed the clarinet playing this time. I slid further down between my sheets, squeezing my legs together, reveling in my shaved pubes. Maybe I might let Brandon see me wearing a bikini some time -- oh heavens, no!

The Mental Work had just finished, and I was happy to be allowed to read out loud and record the Lesson Sermon. I stood up in front of and Ma, Pa, Ruth, with the Bible and "Science and Health" in front of me. While reading, I noticed my piano teacher, Mrs. Prudence, off to the side. I recognized two old ladies and a middle-aged man in the back of the church. While turning to the next entry in the Bible, I absently pulled down on my bikini bottom--

-- Oh SHIIIIIITTTTTT! I burst into tears, compounding the cold sweat on the pillow and sheets, bawling out my heart against a world of nightmares -- Pa seeing me in a bikini, Mrs. Prudence seeing me in a bikini, the whole damn congregation seeing me up front in a bikini!

I found a dry region on my bed, and lay awake for I don't know how long. I woke to Ma's knock at the door, calling me to breakfast. I had no time to get dressed; I slipped on a robe and went downstairs. Breakfast was followed by the usual Mental Work and Lesson on cassette. I listened more avidly than usual -- I had recorded the Bible part myself -- standing porter at the door of thought and keeping my mind off nightmares. I admit to being a bit proud of my own work in recording the Lesson.

It didn't quite work. The thought of Brandon seeing me in a bikini got through to me, and I pressed my legs together and stretched them out, pointing my toes and leaning forward, with my hands between my knees. It felt good and exciting. I hoped Ma and Pa didn't notice.

After the Lesson, I went upstairs to get dressed, but instead I conked out on the bed for a couple hours.

I wanted to wear something pretty for clarinet lessons today, but I didn't want to embarrass myself. I picked out an olive sleeveless blouse with a matching darker-green skirt that reached halfway down my thighs, and also a sky-blue blouse with a navy-blue skirt ending a few inches above my knees when I stood. I couldn't decide which.

Of course, I couldn't wear either of those to Sunday School and church, or every day to dinner; they were inappropriately revealing. I had a few of these outfits, that I purchased on a whim, but hardly ever wore.

I also tried on an old favorite red skirt, that I couldn't bear to give to the Salvation Army. It was two years old. When I tried it on, it was tight around my hips and ended less than an inch below my crotch. Putting on a matching tank top, I posed and examined myself in the mirror. No, I definitely couldn't wear this. Not outside, not anywhere anyone could see me. Not only was I showing way too much leg, not only would I flash everyone upon sitting down, but I also couldn't trust the material not to split.

No, I couldn't wear that to clarinet lessons. I could only save it for Ruth when she got older. I decided on the green set. I put on a pair of anklet white socks and black flats, and slipped on a couple tiny diamond earrings for good measure.

I was a bit nervous about Ma seeing me in this, and terrified of Pa seeing me. I wondered how to get out of the house, with Pa staying home from work for July 4th vacation. I decided to practice one last time on the clarinet before today's lesson.

I kept practicing, but I stopped when I realized I had been practicing a full hour. I didn't want to tire out my lips for the lesson today. I still had a couple hours. I stuffed my clarinet and my notebook with my now-shredded Klose, long with other things I needed, into my knapsack. At least I didn't need my ballet uniform.

Nervously venturing out of my room, where Pa might see me, I paused at the top of the stairs, hearing Ma and Pa talking loudly. Pa was saying, "-- go to Bikini Beach if you want. Take Ruth and Lucy. I'll just stay home, watch baseball and the fireworks on TV, maybe listen to the music, and perhaps get a little work done."

While I was waiting for Ma and Pa to end their argument, Ruth slipped behind me. "So it appears we're going to Bikini Beach today, for July 4th Celebration."

"Yeah. You don't seem very excited, though, Ruth."

"I'm pretty much past caring by now. I can't change it. Only Ma even remembers. Anyway, I must admit that Bikini Beach is lots of fun, and I've made many friends there. I'm sure you're quite excited about it, Lucy."

Ruth was sounding strange again. I just couldn't understand her at times. Like, wasn't the whole point of Bikini Beach to have lots of fun and make friends?

"You look really pretty, Lucy," Ruth continued. "Is there a particular reason you're all dressed up?"

"No-no-no-no-no," I quickly replied. "No reason at all. I just decided to dress up today."

By now, the argument had wound down and Pa had gone to his office. Ruth and I went downstairs. "Ma, are we really going to Bikini Beach today for the fireworks?"

"Yes, dear. We'll go directly there from your lessons, so bring your swimming gear with you. And Lucy, I'm happy to see you dress up. You should do it more often."

I was glad Ma didn't suspect anything.

Again, I remembered I wanted to wear only one-piece swimsuits to Bikini Beach. I had two, in addition to my contraband bikini. I'd worn one yesterday, so I picked the other for today.

We stopped for a salad lunch at the deli, at around 11:00. While waiting in line, I spotted a familiar figure sitting alone. Carol. "Ma, may I go and join my friend over there?"

"Yes you may. I'll order a salad bar for you."

I went over. Sure enough, it was Carol from Bikini Beach.

"Hey, Carol!"

She looked up. "Hey, Lucy!" She set down her sandwich and stood up. We hugged briefly. As we pulled apart, she looked me up and down. "Wow, you look wonderful!" I giggled and blushed a little. "Dressed up for something special?"

"Na, I just decided to dress up," I said as nonchalantly as I could. Her yellow tee-shirt displayed a vague picture of rows and columns of symbols in blocks of various colors. "I like your tee-shirt. It's a bit nerdy; it suits you. I can't remember, but I think I've seen it before.

"It's the periodic table of the elements. You know, hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium--"

"Enough, you lost me! Anyway, it's cute on you." I changed the subject. "I have clarinet lesson at twelve."

"Oooo, the mysterious Brandon! I understand now." Carol glanced at my skirt and gave a knowing cockeyed smile. I blushed furiously.

"Shhhh! Ma and Ruth are here." I quickly glanced over my shoulder. Ma and Ruth were at the cash register.

"Your mom probably suspects something. They're usually quite observant. And we tend to be a lot more transparent about things than we think." I sucked in my breath. It would be so embarrassing if Ma or Pa knew anything, or even suspected anything. Carol continued, "And I've heard that little sisters can be surprisingly perceptive about such things."

"And how!" I thought back to the time Ruth caught me in the library.

"Hello, Mrs. Cuttington," Carol politely greeted Ma, who had just joined us with Ruth. "Hi Ruth!"

"Hello, I'm pleased to meet one of Lucy's friends from Bikini Beach," answered Ma. "Unfortunately, I'm sorry I can't remember your name."

"She's Carol," said Ruth.

"She visited us one evening with her sister Nancy, and her sister's friend." I reminded Ma.

"Hey, are you coming to Bikini Beach July 4th celebration tonight?" Carol asked. "It'll be great! Vanessa's singing in a chorus."

"Indeed we are," answered Ma.

Ruth reappeared with a plate of pasta and other stuff from the salad bar. "We're going to see Helen sing too," she said.

"I'll be back; I'm getting my lunch." I went to the salad bar and selected various items.

We spent the next half-hour chatting and eating. We pushed two tables together when Carol's sister Nancy joined us with her friend Cindy. Eventually, Ruth and Ma got up. "I have to take Ruth to her piano lesson now." Mrs. Prudence taught piano in her own home, which was several blocks from the mall. In contrast, clarinet lessons were held in a small music store in the mall.

We all packed up and left the deli together. "I'm going to clarinet lesson now," I said.

"I'll go with you," Carol said. She turned to her sister. "Bruella's at one?"

Shandy's Music was a bit of a walk from the deli, but we made it there by 11:50. I couldn't help breathing heavier as I approached. I was getting really nervous and excited. When we arrived, Carol and i sat on a bench next to the hallway leading to the lesson rooms. I tried to put aside my breathlessness and nerves by starting my preparation. I could hear saxophone sounds from the current lesson.

Carol watched me curiously, so I explained a little. "I like to soak my reeds a long time." I picked out a reed and opened a jar of distilled water and pressed the reed up against the side. Setting the jar down, I assembled my clarinet. I blew through it reedlessly to warm it up. "Wind instruments get a bit sharper when they warm. Unlike violins, which flatten."

"I've noticed that. I play both the flute and the violin," answered Carol.

I fingered a couple exercises from Klose, still waiting for my reed to soak.

"My, that book must have seen a lot of use," declared Carol, when I pulled it from my knapsack.

"Definitely." I'd used it so much the past year that it had repeatedly come apart. It was simpler to put it in a three-ring binder.

HE appeared shortly, along with a girl carrying her saxophone case and music, having just finished her lesson "Hello Lucy."

"Hi B-b-b- Mr. Oregon," I stammered breathlessly. "This is my friend Carol."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Oregon," Carol stood up to shake hands. Brandon greeted her in turn, as I gathered up my stuff.

As we walked to the lesson room, Brandon commented, "I see that as usual, you've prepared you're setup. And I must say, you look wonderful all dressed up." I turned my head away, so he couldn't see my smile and blush of happiness. "Is it for a special July 4th function today?"

"Oh, nothing in particular." I could hardly admit it was for him. I attached the reed to the mouthpiece as he did the same for his clarinet, and warmed up with a few random notes. I slipped in the opening phrase of "You Are My Sunshine," both hoping and fearing he would notice.

Wearing a miniskirt, I had to keep my knees close together; crossing my legs while playing the clarinet was not an option. I leaned forward just a bit and aimed my clarinet a little higher than usual, so that the bell extended above and beyond my knees.

We played a bunch of short 16th-note exercises, near the end of pages 16 and 17 of Klose. At one point, Brandon paused briefly to comment, "I think your posture is quite good now, Lucy. That's a good way to sit."

I smiled, and couldn't help giggling a little at Brandon's compliment.

We also played a few scales, in keys such as E-major and B-major. They were pretty hard, although I managed. I'd long ago realized I'd grown way too accustomed to the left-hand low E and F#, and the right-hand low F. With these scales, I had to use the right-hand for low E and the corresponding middle-staff B. It felt strange.

We played a few longer duets, about half-page to full-page long. They were very hard. I always played the top stanza, with Brandon on the bottom stanza. The triplet 16th-note variation was particularly difficult, and I had to take it slow.

As the lesson ended and I dismantled my clarinet, Brandon assigned me some new passages, keeping a couple of the old ones, including the last few measures of pages 16 and 17. "You are a good player, Lucy. I'll see you next week."

I quivered inside at his compliment and smile.

"Thank you Mr. Oregon. Have a wonderful July 4th!"

"I will. I'm performing this afternoon and this evening in the celebration."

I practically ran out of the room in my excitement, and down the hallway to the store proper. Carol was still there, to my surprise. She was browsing through some folders of music.

"Lucy! Your playing is wonderful! You gotta join the band in high school this fall."

"I probably will, although I'm scared. I think it'll be very hard. I hope I'm good enough."

"You are for sure. Nancy plays clarinet in the band, and you're better than her. She's gonna be a senior this fall."

"What about you, Carol? Are you going to play?"

"I haven't decided yet, between band and orchestra."

"It would be cool being in the band together!"

"Or maybe you could play clarinet for orchestra. Nancy tells me that they take orchestra wind players directly from band."

We talked a bit more, then Carol said, "I have to meet Nancy and Cindy at Bruella's now. Wanna join me?"

"Sure. Let me tell the people here, so Ma knows where to find me."

Bruella's wasn't very far, and we made it there in good time. Nancy was there with her friend Cindy, trying on swimsuits. Cindy had a new bikini on, and she turned to us as we approached. "Hey Carol, Lucy! What do you think? Good enough for the celebration today?"

"You look wonderful," answered Carol.

I echoed the sentiment. She certainly looked hot; the sky-blue solid color matched well her dazzling blonde hair. Nevertheless, I felt a little uncomfortable for her, displaying herself in public that way. The strap of her bikini bottom around her waist was just a thin string, tied in bow knots on either side of her hips. But I kept my reservations to myself.

Ma and Ruth showed up about fifteen minutes later. "Thank you for leaving the message," said Ma. As our group and Carol's group were both leaving for Bikini Beach shortly, Ma invited them to join us. They agreed; that would be more convenient than taking the bus.

We all managed to squeeze in the car. Ruth had to sit on my lap. I got the sense that she seemed a little embarrassed sitting on my lap. True, we hadn't done it in several months, but we used to do it all the time. Why was she reluctant or embarrassed now?

The Bikini Beach parking lot was already half full when we arrived. This was apparently going to be a huge celebration this year. The vast majority of visitors were women and girls, but a few men and boys came with their families. It weirded me out, imagining how it would be for the boys, being surrounded by women and girls on all sides.

All six of us already had membership passes, so we could skip the incredibly long lines for the ticket booths. We only had to enter the moderately long lines for those already with passes. Carol, Nancy, and Cindy all had summer memberships, as did Ma, I learned to my consternation. Ruth, of course, had her eight-year membership, and I had my measly two-week membership. That was just so unfair, especially as Ruth seemed a bit sour on Bikini Beach! I always had to get a single-day pass, until Vanessa's mom got me the two-week pass.

"Why couldn't I get the summer pass, the same as you, Ma, even if you didn't wish to get me Ruth's eight-year pass?"

"I can't explain it, Lucy. But we had to do it this way with you, believe me." That was most unsatisfying. Ma refused to say anything further. Ruth looked like she wanted to say something, but remained silent after a glance from Ma.

They were selling swimwear just inside the turnstiles: black, with red, white, and blue stars scattered to resemble a fireworks bloom in the form of the Bikini Beach logo. Nearly everyone was buying them. One-piece suits and tankinis went for $5.00, bikinis and thongs for $3.00. Children's sizes were a dollar less.

I even noticed a stack of one-piece thong suits. One of the salesladies wore one, her bottom completely exposed as the strip went down her crack. Carol said, "You should try one of those."

"What? Ewww!" Imagine that narrow strip creeping up my behind! I didn't imagine Pa liking that any more than he liked bikinis, either, what with my behind completely exposed.

We slid our passes through the turnstiles, and Ma picked up and examined the suits. "Quality workmanship, definitely." So, even though we had already brought our own suits, we all got the new Bikini Beach ones. Ruth and I got one-pieces. Ma got a tankini, a bit to my surprise. Carol and Nancy both got those thong one-pieces, and Cindy got a thong bikini. It was very much a steal, for things normally costing $15 to $40 a piece!

We entered the women's changing facilities, which now seemed a whole lot bigger than before. It couldn't be, I know, but it seemed like it. We quickly changed into our new swimsuits, and went out to join the celebration.

******************************

A Bikini Beach Summer
by Daphne Xu

Part 7
The Bikini Beach July 4th Celebration

Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by him.

Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected.

Friday, July 4th, Mid-Afternoon

Bikini Beach was all dolled up for July 4th -- flags everywhere, and red, white, and blue colors pervading.

"Hey, Helen!" shouted Ruth, as she ran off to the left. Sure enough, Helen, Vanessa, their mom, and another woman I didn't recognize were there. All of us followed Ruth to meet their family.

Vanessa greeted us with hugs. "Hey Lucy, Carol! Wow, Carol, that swimsuit looks awesome!" I agreed. I couldn't help repeatedly glancing at her from behind, at her completely bare bottom. I'd never seen a swimsuit like that before. I was reminded of Vanessa's description the first time I came her, of Bikini Beach as a girls' refuge from boys' ogling eyes -- and especially of Becky's mirthful reaction.

Vanessa gestured toward the unfamiliar woman. "I don't think you've met--"

"Vanessa!" interrupted the woman.

"Mom's friend," Vanessa ended in a bit of a downer tone. I got the feeling she was going to say something different.

"Hey," continued Vanessa. "Helen and I have to be at the Tropical Pavilion this evening at seven, to meet the chorus and prepare for the performance. So let's look around and see what they've done to this place."

"Yes, let's!" echoed a familiar voice. Jen was there, just behind us.

Off to the side, I noticed a lot of tables. They weren't there on ordinary days. "Let's go check those out," I suggested.

The tables were all about career opportunities for women. Numerous industries were represented, so many that I was lost in all the visual noise. All the booths were manned by women dressed in pretty much the same pattern: they wore overlarge tee-shirts representing the organization they were from, over black bikinis. I could see through some white tee-shirts that the black bikinis were July 4th ones, the kind sold at the entrance.

"Hey, there's NASA," said Alice.

"Yeah, I wanna see them," said Carol.

We followed them to NASA's table. Carol, Alice, and Becky talked with the two representatives there. I missed out on most of what they said -- understood it as I heard it, but forgot afterwards. They mentioned returning to the moon and an ultimate trip to Mars. One of them did warn us that, "Actual astronauts are a microscopic minority of NASA engineers, scientists, and technicians." Everyone else was in some position of support. Design engineers, communications specialists -- "Testing engineers are critically important."

Just as we finished talking to or listening to the NASA women and backed away, Ruth startled me and asked out of the blue, "Lucy, have you thought of what you'll study in high school?" I didn't even notice her following me!

But I answered. "Well, I thought of a few things. Band, definitely. Algebra One in ninth grade would satisfy my math requirement. Then there's ninth-grade science, and in tenth grade, the three-way science course would satisfy my science requirement, although I might take the single trimester environmental issues class later as an elective. Then--"

Ruth interrupted. "I kinda thought, hoped, you would be more interested in science and math. Why not take physics, chemistry, possibly biology -- the regular year-long courses, I mean. Maybe even an AP course. The environmental science course as well, of course. And continue with math every year."

Carol, Alice, Becky -- all of us exchanged glances. "That's almost exactly my plan for math and science in high school," said Carol. "I've already taken Algebra One, in eighth grade. Did you read my mind or something?"

"No, that's just pretty much what anyone studies intending to go into science or engineering."

"I knew that from Tracy," said Becky. "But how did you know?"

"I've already finished third grade," answered Ruth.

Huh? I was thrown such a loop by Ruth's answer that I couldn't think. Ruth herself winced, but then continued, "I'm not Ruth, I'm Ruth. I'll just leave it at that."

We all looked at each other -- had Ruth gone mad or something? Except for Vanessa, who had a knowing expression on her face, as if she just realized something or figured something out.

Ruth wasn't saying anything further.

We looked around. I wasn't interested in the military, which had five tables set up in a row: Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and National Guard. Some of the other girls went to their tables. But the CIA was near them. I thought it might be interesting and exciting to go into spying; I would help subvert and defeat the bad dictatorships of the world.

I didn't really know what to ask. The woman there said, "Excited adolescents motivated by a sense of heroism and excitement will find themselves very disappointed." She handed me some literature. "We want you to enter with your eyes open. You have to know how to keep a secret."

Next to the CIA table was the Peace Corps, advertized as "The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love." Ruth was there now. I stepped over there, and Ruth showed me a handout they gave her. "The woman there admonished me not to even think of joining them, or doing anything else, until I'd finished high school with the best education I could get. Very good advice, definitely. Applies to the CIA as well; the military, too.

"But notice a subtle subversion here." Ruth opened the handout. "The Peace Corps not only does not require a security clearance, they look upon one with suspicion. They respect the concerns and fears of many countries that the Peace Corps is used as a cover for spying or sabotage. They single out the CIA in particular: if you have ever been in the CIA, you will probably be barred for life from the Peace Corps."

That didn't seem fair. But Ruth continued, "Normally, they would put up a table for a career, but there would be no table for anyone with information telling you that it would not be a good idea to go into that career. For example, if someone put a table for nightclub dancer, or escort service, or, oh, I dunno, pleasure palace attendant." Pleasure palace? Something like amusement park or Bikini Beach? I must have looked blank, as Ruth continued, "Let's not pussyfoot around the bush. Someone comes from Reno or Las Vegas and sets up a prostitution table here. Nobody gets to set up a table to suggest that maybe prostitution is not such a good idea."

"But nobody's put up a table here for ... prostitution, did they?" This conversation was distinctly uncomfortable. And what did Ruth know about prostitution?

"No, but they did for the military. Several tables. And nobody here to advertize `Full Metal Jacket' or to tell you that `all you can be' might just be murderous thug or cannon fodder. That would also have been the case for the CIA, except that the Peace Corps has a statement buried in its requirements, suggesting that the CIA might not be such a good idea."

Hmm. Interesting notion. And Ruth was sounding adult again. *WHAT* was going on?

I continued to look around for a while, getting separated from both the girls and Ruth, as more and more people came to browse around.

"I can't believe I'm debating a little girl!" shrieked a loud projected piercing voice. I looked around, and everyone else looked around too. I wasn't sure even where the voice came from. "Little girl, we put our lives on the line to keep the community safe! Just go back home, go to school, learn something about the subject."

I felt very unpleasant about it, but at least it didn't have anything to do with me. I kept looking around at the various careers available, until someone grabbed my hand. "Lucy." It was Ruth! "Let's get out of here. I can't stand this any more." She was almost in tears.

We worked our way out of the tables. "That idiot cop shrieked at me," Ruth continued as we left along one of the trails. Her tears had changed to fury.

"Oh my goodness, that was you she was shouting at!"

"She thought that making someone confess was perfectly fine, while DNA was just something to get criminals off scott free. Just like Ma."

"Ma!?! What makes you say that?"

"Personal imagination. Grrrrr... Lucy, whenever I say something idiotic, please remember, `I'm not Ruth, I'm Ruth.'"

I shook my head. "Ruth, I suppose I'll understand that someday..."

"Meanwhile, let's go have fun together. You know, we never did anything together here at Bikini Beach, just the two of us."

We were following the trail to the South Sea Adventures.

"You're right! We should do this more often. I've been so involved with my friends here," I said.

"It's really tempting to call that cop a pig," Ruth said. "I told her it's frame-up, when a bunch of officers terrorize a suspect held in a back room, to make him confess. She said I didn't know what I was talking about.

"I said, `I most certainly don't,' which wasn't what I intended to say." Ruth growled, then continued. "But I used it statistically, and continued: light shining in his eyes, keeping him awake for days, when he's dying to sleep, slapping him, giving him a fake lie-detector test and declaring he failed it. I can't remember everything I said. Threatening him with a gun.

"She angrily told me that they know from education and experience what it takes to get a criminal to confess to his crimes. I broke in -- it gets an innocent person to confess as well. Why not use DNA testing, when the crime is something like rape and murder? She retorted that DNA was just something invented by defense attorneys to get criminals off. That's when I called her a liar.

"And that's when she let out her earth-shattering shriek," concluded Ruth.

"Oh, my goodness!" We paused, and I gave her a hug. I kept wondering, not for the first time. Was this really my little sister, Ruth? However was she able to talk like that?

At that point, we reached the Lagoon. We swam and splashed each other, having fun. Then we got out and rested, before proceeding on our way.

We reached the Tropical Waves. "Ma would never let us swim here, when she was watching us. But some of the other parents did."

We went in until the water was up to my chin, and Ruth was treading water. "I can sometimes catch these waves, and body-surf all the way to the beach."

WHUMP! A wave came toward us. "See if I can catch this one!" She began swimming toward the beach. The wave lifted me up and let me down again.

I looked around, couldn't see Ruth anywhere. The wave had broken by then, and the undertow was beginning to pull at me. While I stood there resisting the undertow, and looking around for Ruth a bit worried, I heard her calling out from the beach. "Lucy, it was perfect!" She was standing at the edge of the water. What a relief! "Try the next one!"

WHUMP! Why not? As the wave approached, I began swimming toward the beach. The wave splashed right over me, dunking me, flipping me over. I stood up coughing and gasping, when the undertow grabbed me and sat me down underwater again. I eventually managed to get up again, and sort-of swam until I could walk, to where Ruth was on the beach.

"You okay, Lucy?" asked Ruth with concern.

"Yah, just tired. I'm gonna relax a little." We both went up the beach, grabbed one of their beach towels, and lay down."

"There you are!" exclaimed a furious Ma, waking me out of my doze. "Good, at least you went with Lucy rather than going off on your own. But at least one of you could have told us. Lucy, it's fine that you go off on your own, but please tell *someone* when you take Ruth with you. I was worried!" Behind Ma were Mrs. King, Vanessa, and Helen, I felt embarrassed at being put on the spot there.

"Ma, you think I'm going to stay anywhere near there, after being ... shrieked at by the ... police officer?"

"I'm very sorry, Ma," I said, feeling guilty. "I should have found you and told you. But I didn't want to stay after hearing the shrieking either, so we went off together."

"Ruth," said Ma. "I had no idea her `little girl' was you. I can see why you ran off."

"Mrs. Cuttington?" said Vanessa. "I wouldn't debate a police officer in the first place. But if I were her age and I had a encounter like that with one, I would have run off blindly, in any direction, not knowing where I was going. Be thankful, she was aware enough to find Lucy before going. I saw the last part of that exchange, and Ruth was out cold for a little bit before coming to her senses and running off."

"Mrs. Cuttington?" said Helen. "This is Bikini Beach. She's perfectly safe here, and can't get lost."

"Helen," said her mother, Mrs. King. "Moms always worry about their daughters. That's part of their job as mothers. They're always afraid something bad will happen."

"No harm done," said Ma. "And I didn't realize Ruth was her target. I won't say any more about it. Now let's go back to the nice relaxing Lagoon for now."

We all followed Ma. I didn't know that Vanessa and Ruth had held back for a while, until they both caught up with us at the Lagoon.

The other girls were there, including Nancy and Cindy. "Hey, Lucy. There you are!" said Carol, hugging me. "Did you miss the excitement at the career opportunity tables?"

"You mean, when the police officer shrieked at Ruth?"

"Oh my God, that was Ruth there? I had no idea. I'm so... so..." Carol trailed off, and gave Ruth a hug. Ruth seemed surprisingly euphoric now. I wondered why.

Nancy said, "A good many of us there were upset, and we all decided to leave. We saw Anya emerge, mobbed by many people. I don't know how she dealt with the screamer."

We swam and relaxed in the Lagoon for a while. Vanessa pulled me to the side for a couple minutes. "Ruth told me about her experience with the cop. That and a number of other things led me to figure out about Ruth, and she confirmed it. I would tell you now, but you wouldn't believe it. I have to go talk to Anya. From what Ruth said, she doesn't want your Ma to know anything about this."

"Vanessa," I said. "You're scaring me. Is something sinister going on?"

"Like I said, you wouldn't believe. But possibly. Not that we're in danger, or anything. Eventually, I'll tell you." Vanessa ran off.

My worries hovered in the back of my mind while we continued playing. Vanessa returned, and got Ruth and me together. "I tried talking with Anya, but she snapped that she was too busy. She was surprisingly curt with me; usually, she's quite friendly. I couldn't get enough out that would get through to her. I said it was about the shrieking police officer, and she said the officer was sent home and would be replaced. I couldn't get any further. I tried to see Grandmother, but they wouldn't even let me in. The workers told me that everyone was extremely busy, because of July 4th.

"It seems as if Bikini Beach itself were sabotaging my attempt to bring the problem to their attention," Vanessa finished.

"That sounds about right," growled Ruth.

"You make it sound as if there's something magical about Bikini Beach," I said.

"There is," answered Ruth and Vanessa simultaneously. "I will try again later this evening," continued Vanessa.

We continued playing at the Lagoon until dinner time. To my surprise, Ruth seemed to play with Vanessa and Carol as much as with Me and Helen.

While we were playing, music began sounding around us. I couldn't tell the source, but I guessed that speakers were hidden or camouflaged around us. The music seemed to come at us from all directions. I didn't recognize the music, but it sounded exciting as befitted a July 4th celebration. I suspected someone in the main building was playing a bunch of CDs.

Finally it was dinner time. We all went to the Tiki Hut, at the far end of the South Sea Adventures, for dinner. I was at the moment eating in silence, semi-listening to everything around me, and someone a table over mentioned getting a lifetime membership in Bikini Beach.

I would have forgotten about it, but Ruth, sitting next to me, turned toward that table and said, "It was a trap."

"Hush, Ruth," said Ma.

The girl, definitely older than me, replied sarcastically, "Oh? So you must think that everyone who gets a lifetime Bikini Beach membership is a man unwittingly and unwillingly transformed into a girl for the rest of his life?"

What the....!?! Almost everyone around us burst out laughing. Eventually, the laughter died down. "Good comeback," said someone at that table, and everyone at that table laughed again. I felt really embarrassed for Ruth.

Ruth first looked grumpy, but then her expression changed. "Guys, I've always wondered."

"Yes?" said Becky.

"In `The Emperor's New Clothes' -- you know, Hans Christian Andersen’s story -- what really happened when the little boy shouted out, `He isn't wearing any clothes!' I mean, did his mom say, `Hush, dear'? Or did his dad take him home, out to the woodshed, and tan his hide? Or did police come and take him and his dad way, and toss them into the dungeon?"

Vanessa said, "That's a good point. Often, people don't take a child seriously, when he states an important point. Not even if it's obvious -- or when it's obvious that he knows what he's talking about."

I wasn't sure of the relevance, but I was reminded of a passage in the Bible. "When I was a child, I spoke as a child. When I grew up, I spoke as an adult. I forget where that appears in the Bible."

"In the Bible," replied Vanessa, "Jesus says that in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, one must become as a little child."

"True," I said, a little embarrassed at bringing the subject up.

After dinner, Vanessa and Helen had to go to the pavilion to prepare for their chorus concert. The rest of us went with her, and found the source of the music that had been surrounding us all the time: the orchestra was performing there. We decided to wait and listen and relax. Their concert dress was just about the most bizarre I'd ever seen. They were all women -- even the tuba players were husky, muscular women -- in black July 4th Bikini-Beach bikinis! They wore sandals with heels instead of flip-flops.

I noticed that Ma and Ruth weren't with us. What happened? I was sure Ruth would want to watch Helen in the chorus, just as the girls and I wanted to watch Vanessa in the chorus. In fact, she seemed to like Vanessa as well.

I put it out of my mind for now.

As usual when seeing an orchestra or band perform, I spent at least some time with my attention on the clarinetists. I crept around toward the front to get a good view of them. There were two clarinetists and one bass clarinetist.

One of the clarinetists looked familiar. Oh my, she resembled Brandon a little -- perhaps Brandon's sister or cousin? I was having trouble breathing, from nerves and excitement.

I returned to the others in a bit of a daze, trying to calm myself and make myself presentable. It didn't quite work. When I got back, Carol asked, "Lucy, are you okay?"

Becky said, "Yeah, you look like you saw a ghost!"

"I was just checking out the clarinet section--"

"And you saw your Brandon there?" interrupted Becky.

My face flamed, and I would have fallen hadn't Alice and Jen caught me. "Hey! Brandon's a guy!" I exclaimed.

"So?" said Becky, as they let me down gradually. "Maybe he's a girl now."

What the heck had gotten into Becky!?! I was at an utter loss for words. I could only glare. She'd suddenly gone from silly in a fun way to full-fledged knuckle-headed bimbo. Even if she was joking...

"Becky!" exclaimed Jen, sounding very unJen-like. Then she continued, "Perhaps she was his sister," softer, more Jen-like.

"Yeah," said Alice knowingly. "When someone's in love, anything and everything remotely connected to the beloved one is fascinating. Unless it's a rival for his affections."

"Hrmph!" I swatted her -- lightly of course. "I don't want to talk about it any more."

"Girls, leave her alone about it," said Carol.

"It's okay," whispered Jen. "You're among friends here." That's what they always said. She came over and hugged me. "Seriously, I know the feeling," she whispered.

We continued to listen to their playing, and I kept watching the clarinet section. Did that lady there really look like Brandon? Or was it my imagination?

A Bikini Beach worker came nearby. "Is Lucy Cuttington around?"

"Yes?" I stood up, wondering nervously if I was in trouble or something.

The worker approached. "Your mother is taking Ruth home. I don't know anything about it, except that there was some kind of trouble. She tells you not to worry, continue to enjoy the evening, and she would be back for you around ten this evening."

Not to worry, she said. "Okay, thanks." Unfortunately, I had no idea what else to do, what I could do. I stayed here, although I couldn't help worrying.

Eventually, the orchestra had a break, and we went to get sodas. Then chorus came on stage, onto a stand behind the orchestra. Like the orchestra, they were all women and girls dressed in black bikinis and heeled sandals. I spotted Vanessa in back, as one of the tallest women in the chorus -- she was in the back row, of course.

Becky and Alice in unison jumped up and shouted, "Yeah, Vanessa!" Jen did so an instant later, just as everything went quiet for an instant -- and sat down immediately, covering her face in embarrassment.

I spotted Helen in front, in a line of little girls.

They sang various patriotic songs like "Yankee Doodle," "Grand Old Flag," and "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy." Most of the songs were familiar from elementary school singing, even though I'd forgotten many of the lyrics.

There was another ten-minute break, during which we went to get more sodas and I slipped down to look at the clarinetist again. This time, only younger girls in the chorus appeared. They all looked like elementary school-girls. Vanessa wasn't there, but Helen was. About a third of the girls came down in front of the orchestra, where microphones and stands had been placed during the break.

They gave a stage reading of a musical play called, "Let George Do It." Some of it was wincingly silly, but mostly I found it cute and funny. It was about George Washington and the American Revolution.

Afterwards, the girls returned to their positions in the back and the rest of the girls returned, and they sang a few more songs. Vanessa had a nice solo part; she could really sing!

The show eventually ended, and we went to the Green Room to meet the performers and congratulate Vanessa. It seemed as if everyone in the audience went there as well. My guess was that, as the show was broadcast over the entire water park, only those with family members and friends there actually came to the Pavilion to see them.

Vanessa finally met us. After we congratulated her on her solo, Helen came up and asked, "Where is Ruth? She promised to watch me tonight."

I answered, "I'm very sorry, Helen. I'm afraid Ma had to take her home."

Vanessa added, "If they've recorded this, I'll try to get a copy for her."

"Thanks, Vanessa," said Helen.

Becky said, "Lucy wants to see the orchestra. She thinks one of the clarinet players is related to Brandon."

I blushed and sat down hard.

"When one is love, anything and everything associated with him is interesting and fascinating," repeated Alice, to further my embarrassment.

"Let's go and take a look," said Vanessa. She led off, I managed to get back up, and the rest of us followed. We shortly reached another room where the orchestra members were cleaning up. We approached the two clarinetists; I held back, short of breath and stomach fluttering."

Both clarinetists turned. "Oh, hello, Miss. Good job with that solo," said the vaguely-Brandon-look-alike young lady to Vanessa.

"Thank you. My friend thinks one of you resembles someone she knows, a clarinetist."

The clarinetist looked over us, and her eyes lit up in recognition of me. "Oh, hello Lucy. I'm glad you could come, and I hope you enjoyed the show."

I could feel my eyes widening. How the heck did she know me? "Um, I was wondering, um," I flushed and couldn't continue.

Becky continued for me, "Lucy thought you looked a bit like her clarinet teacher, Brandon Oregon. She wondered if you were related."

The lady looked around, and led me off to a corner of the room. The girls followed.

"Actually, I am Brandon Oregon," she said, in a hushed tone.

Flame-burning-face... limp... motionless... faint... sick... nausea... light and dark patterns... "Maybe he's a girl now" over and over... weak knees... the world spinning... Vague sounds from the distance... "Lucy, Lucy!" Repeated light and darkness. Brandon Oregon as a pretty lady in a bikini.

Feeling air pulses on my face, I realized that it might be a good idea to breath. I took a long, slow, deep breath -- something I learned years back to do just before tests.

I heard various sentence fragments: "... think she's recovering..." "... blue screen of death..." "...major-league crush..." "... I think she'll be okay."

Someone was holding me up. Vanessa on my left, and Carol on my right. I grabbed onto them for support, sagging down in the process. I would have fallen had Vanessa not been supporting me just then. I was gently lowered to the floor, where I curled into a fetal position.

I looked up; everyone was looking down at me with expressions of concern.

"Wow!" exclaimed Becky. "I've never seen anyone turn green before!"

"Becky!" exclaimed Carol.

The pretty lady, still in her bikini, who'd claimed to be Brandon was also leaning over me. "I'm so sorry, Lucy. I just wasn't thinking..." she trailed off.

Oh God, the mortification!

"I guess you didn't know," continued Brandon. "Bikini Beach turns any male who enters female. Some of us in the orchestra are ordinarily male. By tomorrow morning, we'll all be back to normal.

I stared blankly, "Maybe he's a girl now," still echoing through my mind.

Vanessa came to my aid. "We're her friends. She'll understand better if we talk about it ourselves, okay?"

I took a couple deep breaths, and then stood up with Carol and Vanessa's help.

I followed the girls out of the pavilion, still feeling a little faint and humiliated, and weak. The girls found a relatively quiet place off to the side of the Bikini Beach activity, where we could sit, rest, and talk.

The images kept invading my mind -- Brandon as a pretty lady. Brandon in a bikini. Brandon seeing me in a swimsuit, although (thank goodness) not in a bikini as in my nightmares. Brandon as all female.

I gradually came to my senses. I must have misunderstood Men don't change to women, and boys don't change to girls. This is the real world, not the Land of Oz, where Tip was transformed into Ozma.

And that girl's response to Ruth at dinner was nothing more than a sarcastic retort -- right?

"You okay, Lucy?" asked Jen, shyly.

"I guess so. Did I mishear, was someone pulling my leg? It just can't be that..." I was by now embarrassed to say this. "Bikini Beach changes boys to girls. I mean, this is the real world!"

"Well, if that lady clarinetist was pulling your leg, she did a very good job at it," said Alice. "After all, she recognized you, she looked enough like Brandon to raise your curiosity, and she played clarinet like Brandon -- and then claimed to be Brandon. I agree, though. Boys changing to girls is unbelievable. I would have accused those who thought otherwise of having read too many sex-change stories. However, now..." Alice trailed off.

Jen commented, "I've heard of GIRL -- G,I,R,L -- as an acry--, um ancro--, uh"

"Acronym?" suggested Carol.

"Yeah, that's it. For `Guy In Real Life.' So some of the girls here at Bikini Beach may be GIRLs."

I couldn't help laughing along with everyone else, even though I was still feeling a little shaky.

"So, is any of you a GIRL?" I asked facetiously, with a dose of sarcasm.

"I am," answered Becky.

"WHAT!?!" I exclaimed. I couldn't wrap my mind around it -- Becky a guy? I was having trouble breathing again. On the other hand, it was adding up. Becky's bimbo-headed comment about Brandon being a girl turned out correct, according to the lady clarinetist. Being a GIRL herself would give Becky reason to seriously consider that possibility.

"I didn't tell anyone -- not until now. I don't think anyone knew except my aunt -- and the people here who did it, such as Grandmother and Anya."

"One wouldn't think of it to look at you," said Alice. "You're all girl."

"I really am a guy -- okay, I'm a girl right now," Becky giggled. "But I really was a guy. I was sent to spend the summer with my aunt -- and here I am. She took me to Bikini Beach, and got me a summer membership. Can't say I was as shocked as you, Lucy, when it happened, because I didn't faint, but I was very surprised and disturbed. Both Grandmother -- she's the Founder of Bikini Beach -- Grandmother and Aunt Yuko had to explain that my change lasts the length of the pass, plus several hours. My real, uh, male name," she giggled again and looked straight at me, "is Bruce."

"Wait a minute," I said apprehensively. "What was your last name again?" It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"Miura. I'm Bruce Miura."

"No-no, you just can't be!" Becky giggled at my surprise. "Anyway, Bruce doesn't giggle like that."

"Nah, that's just Becky. Bikini Beach changed me. I was initially disturbed at my personality change, but then I decided to live it up and enjoy it. It's usually fun to giggle and laugh it out. Anyway, remember the Gettysburg Address? You teased me into reciting it before I was fully ready."

"Oh, you did well. Only slipped up a moment in the middle, that's all. But then there was that Valentine's Day--"

"Don't mention that!" Becky shrieked, even with a giggle.

"Now, I'm very curious," said Carol. "What happened?"

"I'm not telling," Becky and I said in unison, then burst out laughing.

By now, I was convinced that Becky really was the Bruce I knew. And now that I knew, I saw the distinct resemblance. Bruce was one of the few people at school I could call friend last year. I never saw him as boyfriend material, and I'm sure he didn't see me as girlfriend material. We were in the same science class, routinely paired together. We occasionally chatted, and sometimes sat together for lunch.

"It's really amazing the change Bikini Beach made in you," I said. "I don't think I would have recognized you even if I knew about Bikini Beach changing people, even though I see the resemblance now."

"When Bikini Beach changes someone," said Vanessa, "they make it complete. The GIRL becomes a true girl."

"You knew about Becky?" I asked, almost in outrage.

"Not about her, but about Bikini Beach transformations," she answered.

"Of course you would know, *VERnon*," said Carol.

My jaw dropped, Jen's eyes widened, and Alice said, "Eh?"

"Okay, okay, I have to admit it," said Vanessa. "I'm a GIRL as well. That is, a guy. But how did you know?"

"Hey, I was with you -- Vernon -- when you got your two-week pass," said Carol.

"I was with her too," I complained. "I distinctly remember Vanessa getting it, not some guy named Vernon."

"You knew, but didn't tell us?" asked Alice.

"Heck," said Carol. "Would you have believed me had I told you, `Hey, everyone. Our beloved friend Vanessa is really a guy'?"

"No, I guess you're right," said Alice.

"Excuse me?" I interjected. "Did anyone hear what I just said? I distinctly remember Vanessa getting her two-week pass."

"That's another thing about Bikini Beach transformations," Vanessa said. "Most people think that the boy was always the girl. Only a few remember otherwise. Mom remembers that I was Vernon. Dad doesn't, thank goodness. To tell the truth, I don't know about Helen. I have no idea how Bikini Beach decides who should remember and who should forget. Why did Carol remember, but Lucy forget? I haven't the faintest.

"For that matter, why did Lucy remember Bruce but not recognize Becky as him, while she remembered me as Vanessa when I was actually Vernon, and Carol remember Vernon but recognize me as him? Again, beats the heck out of me."

"That's awful! Mind control!" More of that. I was the victim of mind control, made to forget. I was getting really scared. What else was I made to forget? How else was my thinking controlled? "Animal Magnetism, hypnotism, and so forth" came to mind.

Vanessa hugged me. "Don't worry about it, Lucy. I'm still the same person, Vernon or Vanessa."

"Did it occur to anyone," asked Alice in a huff, "that we've been changing clothes right in front of each other? Right in front of Becky or Bruce, and Vanessa or Vernon!" Alice suddenly drew herself together, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling tight. She was mad and embarrassed.

In fact, now that Alice mentioned it, I felt violated and mortified myself. We were always brought up never to let boys see see us naked. In fact, being skimpily dressed meant being shamefully exposed. Pa always emphasized that.

Becky giggled. "That's one of the perks of being a GIRL at Bikini Beach." She leered at us, and stuck her tongue out. "Seriously, though--"

"You? Serious, Becky?" snarked Carol.

"Ah-HEM, *SERiously*," continued Becky, giving Carol a dirty look, "It got old after a couple weeks. There's only so much titillation one can receive with naked girls, before it gets old -- and there was always my own self to ogle in the mirror. Now, I find it more exciting and fantasy-inducing playing, roughhousing, talking, hugging, even simply being with, the best, loveliest, prettiest, greatest girls in the world. Heck, even in blue-jeans and tee-shirt, you're all the best ever."

I think we all blushed at that flattery. I know I did.

"But still..." said Alice.

"Yeah, it's still interesting and fascinating to see and observe the sheer variety of female anatomy, something completely out of my experience before. And didn't you find it exciting, perhaps deliciously forbidden, to show yourself to a boy? And the boy would show you his?"

I blushed. I'd heard of the naughtiness of "playing doctor," but I'd never done it myself.

"Yeah, but that's different," said Alice. "We knew about the boys seeing us then; we weren't caught by surprise. Also, you never showed us yours."

"I can't help that," said Becky. "I don't *have* mine." She leaned back, spread her legs, and lifted herself into a bridge. "But I promise, once my pass expires and I become Bruce again, and get mine back, I'll let you -- any of you -- see it. We will stay together, won't we, when the summer's over?" She sounded sad, almost pleading.

"Of course, dear," said Vanessa, reaching over to hug her. "We'll stay together forever." We found ourselves in a tearful group hug.

Jen almost whispered, looking rather embarrassed, "I don't mind Vanessa seeing me, even if she really is Vernon." She blushed.

"I'm quite, um, flattered to hear that," said Vanessa, hugging her with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, okay," Becky said. "If this helps, one of the things Grandmother told me was that I would forget intimate details when I changed back -- something like that. I just remembered that -- only the gist." Becky sighed tragically. "I suppose that means that if I ever get to have sex before I change back, I'll forget about it."

I tried to maintain a poker face at that. Was Bruce ever like that? Certainly not to me.

Vanessa said, "Maybe she didn't mean that so much as forgetting or at least fogging out on the women's room and everything one sees there, and similar situations. For me at least, the few days I was back as Vernon, my memory of the women's changing room seemed fogged out. And as Vanessa, I couldn't work up any interest in seeing women and girls changing, no matter how hard I tried. I eventually gave up. I can't seem to view naked and bikini-clad girls as -- well, how I viewed them as a guy. And back as Vernon, I definitely think of the five gorgeous girls, but I remember more the fun and games and roughhousing than the attire. I do remember some things I did and said, and wondered how the heck I could possibly have done them. My personality has changed, in ways that disturbed me."

"You've always been the Team Mom," said Jen.

"That's one of the major changes Bikini Beach made in me. Vernon was never like that."

"Okay guys," said Becky. "Now that Vanessa and I have bared our inner souls and revealed our shameful secrets, is anyone else here a GIRL?"

"Not me," answered Jen.

"I'm a straight girl." I shuddered. "I can't even imagine what it would be like to be a boy, with those... those... those physical differences!" I didn't have more than a vague idea of what boys had down there. I'd only occasionally seen a naked baby. Pa was the only male in my family, and he always made sure never to let Ruth or me see him unclothed. It was naughty, obscene to let someone, especially of the opposite sex, see you naked.

"I'm a pure girl, and I love it!" exclaimed Alice. "I wouldn't have it any other way." The rest of us laughed. I was glad not to have the attention on me.

"I'm female as well," said Carol.

"Another thing," said Vanessa. "Becky, did you ever have any trouble saying your male name?"

"No. Why?"

"Starting out, I simply couldn't say `Vernon'. Whenever I tried, it always came out as `Vanessa.' But I couldn't say that I was Vernon, or that my male name was Vernon -- whenever I tried saying `Vernon' it always came out as `Vanessa'."

"Strange," said Becky. "I never had any trouble saying `Bruce'. In fact, I chose Becky as my girl name myself, only an hour or so after I came and changed, when my aunt warned me for third or fourth time that someone else might choose for me, or even Bikini Beach itself might choose."

"More mind control," I said, suddenly fearful.

"Undoubtedly. I finally worked up the nerve to approach Anya and ask for my mental block to be removed," continued Vanessa. "Even though Anya's a high officer here, the granddaughter of Grandmother, and apparently a powerful mage in her own right, turns out she's a very nice, very friendly lady -- most of the time, at least." I could tell she was thinking back to her earlier experience this afternoon. "She explained that it was to avoid inadvertently using one's male name, embarrassing oneself and saying something ridiculous. It was a couple weeks after I began coming here, and she was nice enough to remove the block. I've never had the problem of inadvertently calling myself Vernon.

"However, I have occasionally heard -- well, just like this afternoon, Lucy: `I'm not Ruth, I'm Ruth.' It sounds just as ridiculous, but there's nothing to prevent that. It's something an unwilling, involuntary GIRL might say, trying to tell who she really is but having her mind blocked."

"Wait a minute! You're not telling me that Ruth is..." I just couldn't say it.

"A changed person," said Vanessa. "A GIRL?" said Becky simultaneously. "Yeah, Ruth is a GIRL," said Vanessa. "When she started talking about high-school science, I was pretty sure of it. And when she said, `I'm not Ruth, I'm Ruth,' deliberately as a clue, that sealed it for me. And she confirmed it this afternoon, when talking with me. She is an unwilling GIRL, and a smart one too, to leave that kind of clue.

"Unfortunately, that clue goes nowhere with anyone who hasn't at least heard rumors about Bikini Beach changes. Lucy, if I told you this afternoon, you wouldn't have believed me -- at least, I don't think you would have."

"She can't be a GIRL. She's been my little sister ever since she was born! I remember so much -- dinners, breakfasts, lunches, Sunday School and Church when she was old enough. Walking to school together when I was in fifth grade and she in Kindergarten. Ballet together the last two years. She was always around!"

"Did you notice any recent strangeness in her? Any personality changes? Saying strange things?" asked Vanessa.

"Today, she said strange things," I said, feeling faint. "The debate she got in with the cop. Making criminals confess. It sounded almost adult. In fact, except when playing, she's sounded rather serious these past weeks. Sometimes temperamental."

"Can you say when it began?" asked Jen softly.

"She got quite angry and temperamental when we visited here the first time. Then shouting about mental malpractice and such." I took a deep breath, trying to remember. "There were times when I wondered if she was adult."

"Astronomy magazine," said Carol.

"Oh yes. Talk of DNA. Talk of the CIA and the military. `The Emperor's New Clothes.'" I wasn't going to mention prostitution. Then there was that time she caught me with the naughty teen girl's magazine. I wasn't going to mention that either; that had been so embarrassing. "Now I remember that time, it was while we walked home from ballet. She kept trying to get me to remember -- she had an awful time saying it, but I managed to figure out the name was Peter. Wait a minute, you're not telling me Ruth was really a guy named Peter?" It made me sick to think of it, but it was beginning to make way too much sense.

"Ruth's male name was one thing she was unable to convey to me this afternoon," said Vanessa. "But it seems as though he was accused of a major crime, got off based on DNA evidence, and then your Ma brought him here to change him to Ruth. From what I hear about some Bikini Beach changes, not only is the change to girl complete, the reality-shift is complete as well. Only a few persons remember what really happened. I think we should go and try to visit Anya again. She might not be so busy now."

It was just beginning to get dark now, and we had probably an hour before Bikini Beach closed tonight. I got up, feeling sick to my stomach, and we made our way back to the entrance building.

"Anya's usually quite friendly," said Vanessa. "This afternoon was quite exceptional. I hope it doesn't happen tonight."

That didn't help my nerves. Sick to my stomach, I trailed the other girls into the building, and Vanessa asked to see Anya. At least I wasn't alone.

Becky said in a soft, haunting tone, "Grandmother's in here somewhere. I hope we don't encounter her."

A pretty lady whom I'd seen several times as saleslady emerged from an office. "Hello, please come in." As we entered, the lady continued, "I'm very sorry for my mood this afternoon when you visited, Vanessa. I was just busy, juggling about half a dozen things."

"Anya, these are my friends -- Jen, Carol, Alice, Becky, and Lucy Cuttington."

"I'm pleased to meet you all," said Anya.

"Lucy is the older sister of the girl I tried to ask you about this afternoon, Ruth. Bikini Beach changed Ruth, probably from an older boy or man named Peter. Lucy here was extremely disturbed, but may have been persuaded. Please be gentle with her; she didn't even know about Bikini Beach transformations until today, and was hit hard several times. As for Ruth, I think she was the victim of a miscarriage of justice. Her debate with the police officer this afternoon may have been based on Peter's own experiences. That must have been difficult, because she's been unable to actually tell what happened to her as Peter."

Anya went to the computer at her desk. "Let me check here." She moved the mouse around and typed into the computer for a couple minutes. "Yes, Ruth was originally Peter, a 17-year-old boy. Her mother requested the change because Peter had raped and murdered a girl, and his lawyer had gotten him off, so now he was beyond the reach of the law."

Vanessa said, "Ruth indicated that DNA testing got her off, although she couldn't actually say that. She also hinted at horrible experiences at the police station; again she couldn't actually say that, but could just barely signal confirmation when I asked about them."

Anya typed some more, and then continued, reading from the computer, "When his mom brought him to Bikini Beach on June 21, our scanners detected enraged murderous thoughts in Peter. As part of his transformation to Ruth, we suppressed those thoughts."

Enraged murderous thoughts! Oh, oh, oh, blast! Ruth? I couldn't believe it. I collapsed against the wall, bawling my heart out. I only vaguely recall vomiting into a bowl someone held in front of me.

I ran outside, ignoring the shouts of "Lucy!" from behind me, running down the first trail I saw, not fully aware of things, still bawling. It was dark out now. I just continued running and running. I finally stopped at a pool I didn't recognize, probably because of the darkness. I still had the taste of vomit in my mouth, so I washed my mouth out. It didn't work completely, but it was better.

I just lay down on the sand next to the pool, and curled up. Ruth? Enraged murderous thoughts? I had a big brother like that? Maybe he was a murderer who got off scott free? My crying was now reduced to soft weeping.

In the back of my mind, I heard the 1812 Overture begin. Normally, I loved that piece. But now, I tried to shut it out. Ruth, formerly Peter, a dangerous mad murderer? The idea kept at me, and I couldn't let go of the thought, no matter how hard I tried.

The music played itself through, no matter how I tried to put it out of my mind. I jumped in fright and terror at the nearby cannon that went off in time with the music -- and hit someone standing over me. I freaked out, and pushed her off and ran off, before recognizing the voice of the person who kept calling out, "Lucy! Lucy!"

I decided to stop and let her catch up with me. It was Carol. "Lucy, I don't believe that Ruth was a murderer, not as Peter I mean. There's got to be some kind of misunderstanding If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I'll understand if you decide you hate us all now."

"No, Carol, I couldn't hate you. I couldn't hate any of you." I cried into her bosom as she held me. Not even the blasting cannons, or "The Stars and Stripes Forever" that followed could affect me now. I only barely noticed the fireworks that exploded in the sky at the end. And it took Carol to tell me that they were closing, and we'd better head back to the changing room.

I met the other girls on the way back. Becky jumped and hugged me, exclaiming, "I was scared -- we all were scared -- you didn't want to see us again. I hope that's not the case."

They all hugged me. I realized I was among friends again.

I got back into that fancy skirt and blouse, sickly reminded of all I'd taken today, including Brandon as a pretty lady in a bikini.

I remembered we had to take Carol, Nancy, and Cindy back with us. I found a public phone and called home, to see when Ma would be coming to get us. Nobody answered, to my concern. Surely at least Pa and Ruth were home now; wouldn't one of them answer?

Ma showed up shortly, we all piled into the car. I was squeezed in the back seat between Carol and Cindy. It took a while to exit the parking lot, and then Nancy had to direct Ma to their house. That took a while. We dropped them off, and I hugged Carol good night.

That left just me and Ma in the car. I wanted to stay in the back seat and lay down and sleep and perhaps fade out of existence. But Ma insisted I sit with her in the front seat. She insisted on telling me what happened with Ruth.

I missed the offense Ruth had allegedly done, but I understood what followed. "Ruth wouldn't let me spank her." No surprise there, having seen Ruth's kicks and punches. "So I did something I'd vowed never to do -- and so far never did with you two girls until now. I had Pa punish her when we got home.

"Pa took her to the bathroom for a bare-bottom spanking with his hairbrush, which I thought was a bit much, hearing how she screamed in pain. I hardened my heart to it because of the way she fought us trying to spank her." I got angry at that myself, and growled a bit. "That would have been the end of things, except that right afterwards, Ruth got violent and kicked Pa, hurting him pretty badly.

"We had a fellow Firmlove family come for Ruth. She's spending the night at their home. Pa is doing mental work and reading `Science and Health' to heal potential damage done by Ruth. If necessary, we may have to call Mrs. P-- to work for us."

I felt like I was about to cry. I tried to hold it in.

Ma and Pa's bedroom lights were on when we got home. Otherwise, the house seemed empty and silent. I went inside and up to my own room, and changed into my nightgown. I was tired from everything at Bikini Beach, everything that went wrong.

I cried myself to sleep.