"Oh, my lord!" she cried. "You have to wear a dress every day for the next two weeks?" She actually sat down on the sidewalk, she was laughing so hard. I wanted to smack her, I was so mad. "We're going to have to do some shopping!" She clutched her sides.

"Is that how you were dressed when you left the house this morning?" Aunt Jane asked.

"No," I said, "these aren't my clothes. I can explain."

"Good," she said, grinning. "I'm sure it's a very interesting story."

"First let me go inside and get changed," I told her, taking a step toward the front door.

"Hold on," she told me, barring the way with her arm. "Tell me first. You look too cute in that outfit! I really need to drink it in."

"It's not funny!" I said. "I need to get changed so I can get a haircut. I need to get a SHORT haircut today, so people don't recognize me tomorrow."

"Your hair is already pretty short," she teased. "How could it be any shorter? You'd look like a boy."

"That's the idea!" I said. "I *need* to look like a boy!"

"Relax," she said. "I'm only teasing you! Your school left me the strangest voicemail. They wanted to know if I could bring some clothes for my niece Marcie." She smiled and shrugged. "I'm glad I missed the call. I wouldn't have known what to say. How come they didn't call my cell?"

"Does the school have your cell phone number?"

"Denise knows it by heart. She's the principal's secretary."

"Oh! The principal's secretary? She is not your friend, by the way! She had no idea who you were!"

Aunt Jane frowned. "What do you mean, she's not my friend? What did she say?"

"When I asked her if she knew you, she said she didn't! She had no idea who you were! I was lucky I remembered your number!"

"Denise Truman doesn't know me? She said she doesn't know me? Wait until I get my hands on her!" Jane looked bewildered and a little hurt.

"No, not Truman! Trujillo! The secretary's name is Trujillo."

"No, no," Jane countered, shaking her head. "That's wrong."

"I met her! I know! I don't know her first name, but her last name is Trujillo."

Aunt Jane frowned, puzzled. "You know what? Apart from her everything else, why didn't they look up my number in your records?"

"That's another thing! They couldn't find my records!"

Aunt Jane fell silent for a moment, taking it in. "Are you sure you went to the right school?"

"Of course I went to the right school!"

"Then why couldn't they find your records?"

"I have no idea! How am I supposed to know?"

"Were they looking for Mark's records or Marcie's?"

"Ohhh," I said. "Duh!" It was so obvious. But still, none of it should have happened. And none of would have happened if we hadn't taken that trip to Big Sur. So: "By the way," I told her, "School started Tuesday. NOT Thursday!"

"Hmmph," Jane commented, not seeming to care very much. "So you missed two days of school. It's not that big a deal. AND you got to see Big Sur. You know, school is important, but it isn't the most important thing in life."

"Not the most important?" I repeated. "Do you know how much trouble it caused? Look at me!"

"Wait a minute," Jane said, holding up her hand. She smiled, but she sounded defensive. "Just hold on. Because you went to school two days late, you ended up wearing a dress? And that is somehow my fault? Kids miss school all the time, but they manage to come home wearing their own clothes. What would have happened if you didn't start until next week? Would you have sprouted breasts?"

"It isn't funny!" I insisted. "I'm in trouble, and it's all your fault!"

"No, no," she said, waving her hands, "I'll admit I made you miss two days of school. I hope that's the worst thing that ever happens in your life, because it's nothing. But there's no way that the clothes you're wearing have anything to do with me. It's not my fault. I'm not saying it's your fault, but it's sure not mine."

My mouth fell open in astonishment. Not her fault? How could she say that? It was her fault! Now I began to see why my mother was worried about my coming here. She was right: Aunt Jane was a flake.

But then I remembered something else, something my Dad often said: "Jane is a merciless tease." And it made sense: that's why she wouldn't let me go inside and change. She wanted to milk every ounce of embarrassment she could from the situation. My embarrassment, obviously.

In any case, I didn't really care whose fault it was. I just wanted two things: (1) to get back into my own clothes, and (2) to get a short haircut so no one would recognize me tomorrow. And maybe, too, I could change my schedule, so people wouldn't immediately identify me as Marcie.

So I looked at my smirking aunt and said, "Okay: never mind whose fault it is. Can you at least help me?"

"Of course," she said. "That's why I'm here! No worries. First of all, let's call Denise Truman and find out why she says she doesn't know me."

"Hello!" I shouted. "That's not the most important thing at this moment!"

"Yes it is," she countered calmly. "We need her help to straighten everything out. She is our man on the inside. Without Denise, this could be a complicated mess. With Denise, It'll be a piece of cake." Jane poked at her phone for a moment, then stopped. "I've got a better idea. Let's go over and talk to her."

"Can I get changed first?" I demanded.

"No," Jane said. "She needs to get the whole picture. Besides, she lives right in back of us, on the next street over. We can cut through the backyard. Nobody's going to see us. Plus, that outfit is really cute on you. Did you know that?"

She jumped up, pulled the front door closed, and led me down the driveway. She stopped abruptly, patted her pockets, and turned to look at me. "Hey, uh — you do have the house keys, right?"

I nodded, and she continued on her way.

We passed our garage, then the garage of the house in back. When we emerged in the neighbor's driveway, we saw a woman sweeping her back steps.

"Hey!" she called. "I told you to stop cutting through here! Didn't I?"

"Uh, yeah," Jane replied, "But this is kind of an emergency. My niece here..."

The woman cut her off. "I've told you many times. Over and over! I told you I was going to call the police and have you arrested if you did it again! You're trespassing, do you understand? And now you're teaching another generation to trespass!"

"Forgive us our trespasses..." Jane intoned. I could hear the smirk.

The woman lifted her broom and ran at us. I didn't wait to see what she could do: I turned right around and ran like hell. Behind me I heard a wallop, followed by Jane swearing.

"Ow!" she cried. "That hurts!"

"Good!" the woman shouted. "That'll teach you to stay off my property!"

Another wallop followed, and Jane swore again.

It made me smile, I have to confess.

"Shoot!" Jane complained as she stood in her driveway rubbing her butt. "That old witch knows how to swing a broom! Damn!" She gave an exasperated huff. "I guess we have to go all the way around the block now."

Jane started walking, and took a right out of the driveway. I followed.

"So how did you end up with the name Marcie?" she asked.

"Apparently I look like a girl named Marcie Graylen. Do you know anybody with that name?"

"Sure," Jane said. "The Graylens are cousins, somehow. They live here in town. My mother's cousin married a Graylen, and John was one of the boys in that family... and Marcie is his daughter. I guess she's about your age. We used to see them all the time, growing up, but I kind of lost touch when I was traveling. You've never met them?"

"No," I said.

She studied me for a moment. "Huh!" she concluded. "You do look like a Graylen."

"Like Marcie Graylin?"

Jane shrugged. "I haven't seen her since she was a little girl, but maybe we can go visit this weekend." Then she smiled. "Maybe Marcie will have hand-me-downs for you!" She laughed at her own joke, and then in a more serious tone asked, "So — all joking aside — tell me: what happened in school today? Where did you get those clothes? And where did your clothes go? And, just... uh... I'm sorry for teasing you before. I know you're upset." She walked in silence for a few steps. Then she glanced at me and said, "But in one thing, I wasn't kidding — that outfit really does look good on you."

I stuck out my tongue at her, and we both laughed.

As we walked on, I told her about Mr. Bruce, gym suits, field hockey, the ambulance, and the walk to the principal's office (I left Jerry out of the story). Then I told her my "punishment." I handed her the note. She stopped to read it, and laughed so hard she was crying.

"Oh, my lord!" she cried. "You have to wear a dress every day for the next two weeks?" She actually sat down on the sidewalk, she was laughing so hard. I wanted to smack her, I was so mad. "We're going to have to do some shopping!" She clutched her sides.

"Aunt Jane," I said. "You have to get me out of this mess. I need to get a haircut so nobody recognizes me tomorrow. And somebody has to explain to Mr. Bryant."

"Oh, hon," she gasped. "At this point, I don't think a haircut's going to do it. It sounds like you made a big splash today, so somebody's bound to recognize your cute little face."

I went white. "So what will I do?"

"We need some help from Denise," Jane replied. "Don't worry. We're adults. We can work everything out."

By that point I had plenty of doubts about the last two things she said, but I hoped that Denise at least would have some common sense.

Jane led me up the walk to a pretty little yellow house. As she rang the bell, she said, "Let me do the talking, okay?"

© 2006, 2007 by Kaleigh Way