"Oh," I said. "Remember when I told you that I'm not supposed to date? Well, I'm really not supposed to have you over when no one's home."
"You'll be home," he said playfully.
Rules Are Rules
"Hey, thanks for the note and everything," I told Jerry as he walked me home, "but that girl you gave it to is a nut case!"
"Yeah, I saw the scene in the cafeteria," he said. "When I gave her the note, she looked pretty normal. Anyway, I knew she was in your class, and I didn't get the chance before school to tell you about Cassie."
"It was a nice note, anyway," I said, tipping my face up towards him. We stood on a corner, smooching, until we had to stop for air. He held me close and whispered, "Is your aunt at home?"
"Oh," I said. "Remember when I told you that I'm not supposed to date? Well, I'm really not supposed to have you over when no one's home."
"You'll be home," he said playfully.
"Sorry," I said. "We can't."
"I'll be good," he promised.
"No, no, no," I said. "I can't. I really can't."
"Okay," he said, letting go.
"Sorry. Remember — Catholic school."
"Ooh, ooh!" he said excitedly.
"No, silly — my parents will put me away!"
"Okay. I get it, I get it. See ya tomorrow!"
Once he was out of sight, I ran into the house and pulled off my top and my bra. The little bags of birdseed I'd been using for padding fell to my bed. They'd been driving me crazy all day long. I first noticed after coming back from the principal's office. They were chafing and irritating me, and I couldn't wait to take them out.
I went into the bathroom and found some body lotion. As I spread it on my chest, I noticed that there was a little lump under each nipple. They were like big pimples. They didn't hurt, but they were uncomfortable, like the zit on my face. The cream, and taking the padding out, made them feel better.
I put on a light cotton t-shirt, but even that chafed. I thought about putting bandaids over my nipples, but instead I tried wearing a sports bra. It seemed to be the only thing I could wear that didn't bother me.
The next day (which was Saturday) the zit and the bumps had disappeared, much to my relief, but I decided to take a break from the padding — give my chest a rest. It was Saturday, anyway, so I wasn't likely to see anyone from school.
I got dressed and ran over to Alice's house.
I guess I need to back up a little. I told my aunt all the things the psychic had told me. Clearly, some of what she said made no sense at all. Other parts, like the business about a double life, was pretty obvious — not to Mrs. Earshon, but they made sense to me. I did feel a little badly about not explaining that I was both Mark and Marcie, but still... it's my life. I have to be cautious about my secret identity.
I told Aunt Jane, "Oh, there was one really weird thing she said, about a young/old person: someone who's old but looks young. But not old-old; just older than me."
Jane looked at me in surprise. "You don't know who that is?" she asked.
I shook my head in the negative.
"You really can't figure it out? It sounds just like Alice. She's my age, but she looks as old as you."
"Oh!" I flashed back to the scene in the hospital elevator, and recalled how angry Alice had become when the woman thought that she was 13 like me.
"Most women would be glad to appear younger," Jane said, "but I guess when you're short, people take you less seriously. The worst thing to call Alice is 'cute'. She hates that more than anything."
So, I figured I ought to go see her. She'd helped me a lot, and even if Mrs. Earshon turned out to be wrong about Alice needing help, there was nothing wrong with a little visit.
Alice was still in her bathrobe. "Hi," she said. "Did you have breakfast yet?"
I'd only had my tea, so she cooked some eggs and made toast for both of us.
"Where's Donny?" I asked, forcing myself to use his first name.
"Oh, he's at school," she said with a frown, looking down as she ate.
On a Saturday? That didn't sound right. "But he's going to retire at the end of the year, isn't he?"
Alice sighed. "That's what he said, but I can see he's setting himself up to stay indefinitely." She took a sip of coffee. She added, with some bitterness, "I guess he wants to die with his boots on."
"Oh." I didn't know what to say. It looked like Mrs. Earshon was right — Alice did need help.
Still, I didn't see how she needed my help. What was *I* supposed to do? Convince Mr. Bruce to retire?
Then again, maybe there was some way to cheer Alice up?
I suddenly had a terrible, terrible idea — it would probably make Alice angrier than anything, but it was the only idea I had, so I went with it.
"Alice, do you want to do something fun with me?"
She smiled. "What did you have in mind?"
"First you have to promise you won't get mad..."
An hour later we were driving away. Alice looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this," she said. "This is the one thing I always try to avoid: looking like a teenager."
The two of us were dressed in our shortest skirts, flip-flops, and belly shirts. Her hair was pulled back in a scrunchy. "Let's just hope I don't run into anyone I know," she added.
"It'll be fun," I said, for the umpteenth time. I sure hoped I was right.
She drove us to the Glenn City Mall, which was pretty far from home. "And what are we going to do here?" Alice asked. "We're not picking up boys."
"No, no," I said. "I told you: We're just going to hang out, walk around, window shop. We'll just pretend we're two teenage girls at the mall."
Alice took a deep breath. "Okay. I must be crazy, but... Let's do it!" She got out of the car and started marching across the parking lot.
"Hey, hey, slow down!" I called. "I can't keep up in these flip-flops. Besides, remember you're a teenager. You're not going anywhere, you don't have a mission."
She stopped, and after waiting for me to catch up, she linked her arm in mine. "Fine. Now you drive," she said.
We walked around, and wandered through some goofy novelty stores. It took Alice about an hour to loosen up. She went from clutching my arm and saying, "I feel so exposed in this outfit" to giggling and playing with her hair. Every boy, and most of the men we passed were checking her out, looking her up and down. I didn't think she noticed, but when I mentioned it, she said, "Oh, yeah! I caught that! Nice to know I've still got it!" And she waggled her tail a bit, laughing.
We also did some dress shopping, which I'll tell you about later.
Eventually we ate lunch. Boys kept wandering by, but none of them stopped to chat us up. The guys in the stores were very attentive, but again, more to her than to me. I didn't really mind, but it was a little disconcerting. Maybe it was just the breasts — I hadn't bothered padding my chest today. Anyway, the point had been to cheer her up, and it did do that.
"Wow!" she said, as we drove home. "I never thought I'd like being mistaken for a teenager!"
"We could do it again sometime, if you want."
"I don't think so," she said. "But maybe I won't be so pissed next time somebody thinks I'm your age. I don't know. Anyway, today was fun!" She smiled in silence for a bit. "Thanks, Marcie, I really needed that. It was nice to have a little vacation from myself."
As I walked home, I felt like I ought to explain things to Mrs. Earshon, or at least tell her about my day with Alice. Maybe next time I had time off during the week? I wondered... if she understood my real situation, what could she tell me about my future?
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I love this type of story, where the protagonist is drawn in, little by little, no force needed, until voila its too late.
I really like this story and the way you are telling it. I look forward to each new chapter.
Hmm....
Does Coach Bruce have dark hair? Wonder if he is the older acquaintance who's in trouble. Time for Marcie the superhero to shine again. Will a cartoon be allowed this time? And will the spidergirl cartoon be published somewhere?
Love the tale.
Woody
More about the dress later?
How much later? Come on hande over the next bit!
Happy writing
Gwen Brown
the fun of being a teenage girl
... is something I would kill for. (well not really - but you get my idea)
Its fun reading how all the little things add up and lead to new adventures.
I can hardly wait for more and hope I will be able to read your posts while in hospital. (I'm going in tomorrow, have my eye muscle surgery on Thu and will be released Sunday)
thanks for another fun chapter
Holly
Friendship is like glass,
once broken it can be mented,
but there will always be a crack.
It's always a bit sad
when our little girl is starting to grow up. Pimples, pouty breast nubs. I now suspect what, back in chapter 28, the psychic whiz is referring to when she says: "like an accident that's not a mistake." Well clearly the psychic would not have giver her that tea if she knew she was technically a boy, eh ?
As we know by now, Marcie more than makes up for her lack of aptitude in some areas ( dancing ) with a lot of heart.
Kim
The accident/mistake thing is yet to come
It's not the breasts, it's something else.
"to have a little vacation from myself."
I wouldn't mind one of those
My heart skipped a bunch of beats.
Marcie has a notion that even she describes as “a terrible, terrible idea.” I thought, oh this will so not be good!
It seemed fine — but it does appear that we’re going back to this scene to discuss dresses, so . . . .
Emma