Sing a Healing Song, Chapter 4

I woke from a deep sleep, and for a moment, I was disorientated. For a moment, I thought my whole experience in Northern Ireland had been a dream, until I brushed my hands down my chest and felt my breasts, which pretty much solved that.

Even such casual contact made my breasts tingle a little, and I was tempted to see what all the fuss was about when it came to self-pleasure, but I resisted the urge. I still felt a little like an interloper in this body, and so the thought of caressing it or even staring at it naked seemed perverted in some way.

I went and had a shower, and tried really hard not to think about doing what I suspect a lot of teen girls might do at one time or another ...

It took two towels to dry off - one for my body, and another for my hair, which was a striking red color instead of the washed-out paint look it had possessed before my change. Then I accessed for the first time the hidden knowledge the goddess had given me, and got a crash course in how to blow-dry and comb my hair, and even how to put it into a ponytail. While I had been working on that, my clock radio had been going, and I heard a forecast that said today was going to be very hot - or at least hot for Edmonton, which is more famous for its cold winter than for summer heatwaves.

I dug through my dresser looking for something to wear, and found what I thought was the perfect outfit for the weather - panties, a sports bra, ankle socks, jogging shorts and a loose t-shirt.

Once I was dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. Flame-red hair, a few freckles, green eyes, the same as when I first looked into the water after my transformation. I briefly considered makeup, but I decided to give it a miss for now.

I was feeling restless, and had the urge to go for a run, or maybe a bike ride (I had seen a girl’s bike in the garage when we had pulled in last night.) I figured my mood was just because I’d been unable to do much physically for years, and I wanted to see what this new body was capable of, and so I went downstairs to grab some cereal before I went out.

Unfortunately, my dad was already in the kitchen when I came down, and he looked at my outfit with disapproval.

I noted the look, sighed, and said “What’s wrong, Dad?”

He held his head in his hands for a moment, and then said, “Look. Before I say anything else, let me start by saying this is territory I can honestly say I never thought I would have to cover with you. So at the risk of sounding like some T.V. dad, are you sure that’s the outfit you want to wear today?”

“Its supposed to be super hot, Dad. And I would really like to do something physical. Either go for a run or a bike ride. I feel like I’ve been cooped up too long, and I want to get moving. Besides, I’ve seen other girls wear this kind of outfit for workouts and jogs and stuff. I’m not showing anything they don’t.”

“You’re probably right. But those girls probably have had more experience dealing with boys than you do.”

“But I will have to gain that experience some way. I don’t really want to go to school as a girl being completely ignorant, especially when I have the rest of summer to adjust.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. But just do one lap of the neighborhood, and then home. And take a water bottle with you, its already pretty hot out there. And in the worst case you can chuck it at a guy and sprint for home.”

“This isnt exactly a neighborhood full of rapists, Dad. But okay, if it helps keep you from worrying.”

“I don’t think anything will help keep me from worrying. Now go, before I change my mind.”

I gave him a hug, took the full water bottle, went to the door, put on a pair of runners, and went outside.

Then I began the first run of my life.

It would be pretty difficult to explain what it felt like to a person who took running or even walking for granted, but I was relishing each step I took, drinking in the sensation of my feet hitting the pavement, soaking in seeing my surroundings from my new perspective.

I ran past a school, and vowed that I’d try sports when September came, and imagined myself as an athlete.

So I was a little distracted and didn’t see the boy standing at the corner until I ran into him.

We went down in a heap together, both of us making an “umph” sound as we fell.

After a moment’s disorientation, I scrambled to my feet and started apologizing, saying “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you hurt?”

He got up, brushed himself off, and gave me a grin as he said, “Not anymore. You can knock me over anytime.”

He looked about sixteen or seventeen, buff but not “I spend every waking moment at the gym” buff, with sandy blonde hair and seriously blue eyes. My face flushed until it was probably the same color as my hair.

“I’m really sorry.”

“You can make up for it by introducing yourself.”

“F.. Fiona.”

He gave me the smile again, and held out a hand. “Andrew Parker.”

I tried to act very nonchalant about taking his hand, but I found myself fighting butterflies in my stomach.

I had a feeling he was doing the same, as we stood there awkwardly for a couple of minutes.

Finally, I gathered my wits about me, and said, “Well, nice to meet you. Bye.”

He called after me to wait, but I ran as hard as I could the rest of the way back home.

I could hear my dad in the living room, so I went there, sat down in a recliner, and said to him,

“Well, Dad. I think I have learned something during my run.”

“And what would that be?” He said, trying to sound casual.

“I think its entirely possible that I’m heterosexual. In so far as I think I like boys.”

The look on his face was priceless ...