Designer Children

Love the speculation as always and the comments. Thanks to all as always for reading. Hopefully you are enjoying it. Should I post these more often than twice a week? The earlier chapters are somewhat shorter.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at [email protected]

Chapter 6

“What the hell was that, Ryan?”

We had managed to return to our shared living space. I fiercely extricated myself from Ashley’s firm grip and glared in response to her question.

“I thought we had a plan! We were going to listen to them. Learn what we could, and maybe be able to use it against them. At the very least, we could have negotiated with them to let us contact our families. To let them know that we are OK.” Ashley crossed her arms underneath her non-existent breasts and slowly shook her head.

I said, “I don’t give a fuck about my family.”

Ashley sighed, “Yeah, well I’m not in love with mine either, but they still deserve to know we aren’t dead.”

I said nothing, but Ashley persisted, buzzing around me like a gnat that hovers just above your ear drum. “Ryan, what you and the other boys did was extremely stupid. You have no idea what the consequences of your actions are going to be.”

I replied with a sneer, my little nose wrinkling in the process, “How could it be worse than this?” I motioned to myself. I added, “We’ve got to fight them to keep who we are. That’s the only way.”

Ashley returned my sneer with one of her own, “This is what pisses me off about you, Ryan. You think that what you’ve been given is a death sentence. Like being a girl is this horrible flesh-eating disease or something. That it will eat away at what you are. I see how you look at yourself, and yeah it’s an awful thing to have happen to you, losing your body. But worst of all you act like being a girl is worse- inferior to what you were.”

I narrowed my eyes and poked Ashley firmly in the chest, “It is. Have you seen how I throw, and how I couldn’t lift that goddamn chair properly? That ridiculous punch that I threw? Have you seen how I fucking cry? This is going to eat away at me. I can already feel it.”

Instead of reacting angrily, Ashley looked at me calmly, and smiled condescendingly, “You have no idea how unbelievably stupid you sound. And uninformed.”

I glared at her, feeling the anger bubbling within, molten lava ready to spew obscenities. I said with bared teeth, “I’m not stupid.”

Ashley, still with a tiny knowing smile, said, “OK, maybe not stupid, but definitely ignorant. All those things you mention will get better with time, and while I want to hit Musica with a hammer, she’s right. Practice makes perfect. According to this script,” she turned to the first page and handed it to me, “you are six years old. You can’t expect a six year old girl to box like Mike Tyson, or to be able to control her emotions when faced with serious trauma. Or to be able to throw very well. It’s pretty obvious that these bodies have no muscle memory. I know how to write, but because this hand never formed an ‘S’, I can’t do it until I’ve practiced, until I create the muscle memory.”

She sighed lightly, “Girls can do all the things you’ve described. Can they do them better than men? Some can. Most can’t, but they can still do those things.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “Come on, Ashley, don’t be ridiculous. Not that I ever would, but I could easily take a woman boxer. And every girl I’ve ever known really sucked at throwing a ball. Like they literally threw like girls. We always laughed at them.”

Ashley shook her head, “Great. Well that probably worked wonders for their self-esteem. They probably never practiced. And as for your assertion? Like most of what you say, it’s complete bullshit. Have you ever heard of Jennie Finch? She’s a softball pitcher, and probably the best in the world. She managed to strike out not one but four major league baseball players. Including Mr. Steroids Barry Bonds. Oh and none of them even touched the ball, except for Barry- but he hit it foul.”

I said, “So what’s your fucking point? I can be a softball pitcher?”

Ashley pursed her lips, “Stop thinking like you can’t do things just because you are in that body. It could really be the difference, Ryan. If you don’t gain any confidence in what you can do, you’ll probably be trapped like that forever. Stop thinking poor me and acting like you have something to prove, especially with those two idiots.”

Ashley’s words managed to pierce to stubborn core, but I wasn’t wholly convinced. “What do you mean?”

Ashley replied calmly but firmly, “You were engaging in a manly pissing contest with those two to see which one of you could be the biggest macho idiot.”

I shook my head, “You just don’t get it. We had to do that, to show we are still the same. To show we aren’t scared. And me too, especially, I had to show that I’m not going to be this frightened little girl.”

Ashley frowned, “But you guys acted like a bunch of kids. Don’t you see that? By engaging in that behaviour with those two, you might be pushing yourself in that direction. Do you really think you would have acted that way if you were still in your adult body?”

I nodded, “Fucking right. There’s no way I’d let them hold me like that. But it’s fight or flee. Well I didn’t see any exits there.”

Ashley replied matter-of-factly, “Fight or flight. And if you’d actually read the script, you’d know that there will likely be consequences for your actions.” She narrowed her eyes, “And no, I don’t know how it could be worse than what’s happened to you already. But it’s a threat. ”

She added, “Maybe they’ll turn you into a real little girl. Then you’ll stop caring completely and just be this cute little line-spewing robot.”

I shouted, “No way! What’s the point of that? I mean they let us keep our memories for a reason, right?”

Ashley nodded, “True, but that’s not to say they won’t do it if you force their hand. It’s obvious they want us to act on this show. They probably let us keep our memories because we are trained actors. We can actually peddle the slop they are passing off as life lessons.”

I watched Ashley with a measure of suspicion, “I still don’t understand why you care so much about helping me. If they brainwash me, doesn’t that make me easier to get along with? Plus, I thought you hated me. You seem to hate Devon and Mark too. Why would you want to help us?”

I was beginning to learn how to push Ashley’s buttons, and her status as a man-hating bitch was clearly a sore point. She said through clenched teeth, “I didn’t say I wanted to help them, especially Mark. I already told you, you and me, we’re in this together.” Her expression softened, “We need each other. But we need to trust each other too.”

I said, “I don’t like you bossing me around. And that shit you pulled in front of Mark and Devon was not cool. It was embarrassing. I’m not your little sister, Ashley.”

I saw amusement leap into Ashley’s eyes. It was a tiny spark of joy that had no place amongst her serious expression. Her lips tight, she gently cleared her throat, “You actually are. For the show- Madison and Kaylee are sisters.” She pointed at the character descriptions in the script, “See here.”

I looked down with trepidation, slowly reading in my head, “Kaylee, six years old, Madison’s little sister. Naturally timid, Kaylee often looks to her big sister for comfort and support. The youngest of the four, she looks up to Madison (8 years old) with respect and admiration, and a measure of jealousy, as big sis can do so much more! Kaylee also has the wildest imagination, often letting her mind create fearful images. When faced with these images, she might find herself hiding behind her much braver sister.”

Desperately trying to ignore the fact that I had acted exactly like Kaylee’s descriptor when first meeting Hermie, I said, “But that doesn’t mean you have to act like that all the time. Especially in front of the others. I don’t want to be treated that way.”

The amusement never left her eyes as she spoke, “I’m not trying to emasculate you, Ryan. I could see that you were really hurt by what Mark said, and I was just trying to make you feel better. But why do you care so much what those guys think of you?”

I glared at Ashley, “What’s with you? Do you find this funny? I don’t think it’s funny that I have to act like your little sister, even if it’s just for a stupid show.”

Ashley replied, “I always wanted a little sister. I used to pretend that my favourite doll was my baby sister. I’d feed her and change her. Play games with her. I guess it just got me thinking back to a time when things didn’t really suck between my parents. Look, I’ll do my best not to embarrass you, Ryan. But I want to know, why do you care so much what those guys think?”

I replied, “So you don’t care what other girls think about you? About what you wear or how you do your hair or whatever? Every girl I’ve ever dated was obsessed with that. Those guys are judging me the same way, but in how I act, especially since I look like this. If they still consider that I’m a man in this body, then I know I’m doing OK.”

Ashley sighed gently, “I’ll admit that girls do it too, even me sometimes. Yeah, I will look at another girl and think, well she shouldn’t wear that because it’s not flattering. But I don’t make that part of who I am. And as for what you said, there’s no right way to be a man, Ryan. But I can tell you that filth like Mark aren’t the litmus test for how a man should act. He talks a big game, but I bet he goes home with his hand. Unless he’s paying for it.”

She continued, “From what I’ve seen, you’ve actually got a chance to be a decent guy, despite how we initially met. Mark has no chance. He’s given up on that, probably suffered abuse and given his fair share too. If you’ve impressed him, then you’re probably doing something wrong- something that could force the hand of the people who did this to us.”

I asked, “How can I be sure that I’m not going to start acting like Kaylee though? I mean it’s already kind of happening. What will stop it other than really fighting against what they’ve done to us?”

Ashley said softly, “I’m not really sure. I feel it too. Every time I sit down and eat a sandwich or drink from a juice box or play with a doll. I feel like I’m losing that adult side of myself. It seems crazy that something so simple could do it, but it makes me smile to myself. I think back to that time, when things were good.”

She continued, “I think it’s really about two things. We need to act like adults but appear like children superficially. That means being smart about how we do things, not acting on impulse. We have to think things through and really consider the consequences. And for you, it’s finding the balance between being like Mark and being like Kaylee. And maybe being a little less Ryan too.”

I raised a brow and blurted, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ashley smirked, “You do remember how we met, right?”

***

Ashley spit her toothpaste in the sink, and then I stepped up to the mirror. I peered at the little girl who looked nothing like Ryan Sullivan. I stared at her perfect white teeth, the lightly tanned skin and the deep, piercing blue eyes, and realized that my previous physical identity had been erased entirely. The darkened tooth was gone, and while I didn’t miss it, it would have at least told the world that a piece of my old self still existed.

Ashley said, “It’s weird, you don’t look anything like Ryan. Was your mom a blonde?”

I glared at the mirror, my lips forming a tiny pout, while my previously non-existent chin jutted forward. “No.” I spit in the sink and then wiped my mouth.

Ashley frowned, “What’s up with you, Ryan?”

I said, “I’m just worried, you know like you said, if they do something to my head. I’m just worried people won’t remember me.”

Ashley said, “Well your family will remember you. That’s why I really think that if we listen to them this time around, maybe they’ll at least send a message telling them we are OK.”

I replied, “I told you, my family won’t give a shit. I haven’t talked to my mom in like two years. And my dad is dead.”

Ashley frowned deeply. It was bizarre to see such sadness, and a remarkable empathy on such a young face. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I know how that is, I lost my mom last year. We were really close. Were you close to your dad?”

I nodded, “Yeah. My dad was the only one who could control me. I just had so much respect for him. As stupid or as gay as this sounds, he was my hero. He saved so many lives. What he did really mattered.”

Ashley nodded, “And what did he do?”

I replied proudly, “He disarmed improvised explosive devices, and he taught hundreds of others how to do it safely too. A lot of people say we didn’t belong in those countries, and that we just made it worse, but at least I can say that my dad was making it safer. My dad told me a story once about one that went off in a mall in Sarajevo. It was a nasty one too, lots of people killed, even some children. He didn’t get to it in time, and it haunted him.”

Ashley listened intently as I continued, “He believed so strongly that he was not only serving his country, but that he was risking his life for the people of those countries. He told me, we made a mess there, I’m cleaning it up. He never questioned anything, just did his job.”

Ashley smiled, “I can see why you would want to look up to someone like your dad.” Her mouth tightened, however, as she asked, “What about your mom though? Wasn’t she worried about him? I mean I could never be an army wife. I’d always worry my husband would come home in a body bag or something, and especially if your dad was disarming bombs. I couldn’t stand it. I think your mom must be an amazing woman to get through all that. It must have been so hard on her. I mean especially when your dad died.”

I looked at Ashley in disgusted disbelief, “My mom was awful. Just really, a terrible mom. You couldn’t be more wrong. She always cried so much. I could never respect her for that. I wasn’t crying. I knew how important my dad’s job was, even as a kid.”

Ashley shook her head gently, “Try and look at it from your mom’s point of view. Wouldn’t you be sad if the person you loved was gone, and possibly in grave danger?”

I said matter-of-factly, “It is part of the promise. My mom just couldn’t handle it. My dad himself said that my mom never really got used to being an army wife. But she should have, and as far as I see it, she had no right to complain. She knew what she was signing up for.”

I couldn't help a tiny sneer, “I know my mom was hard on me because she was pissed at my dad for being gone so often. She hated me. I hated her. It’s pretty simple.”

Musica chimed, “Time for bed my sweet girls, tomorrow with Hermie, you’ll explore a hundred wonderful worlds!”

Ashley frowned deeply, “You have no idea how sad that is, Ryan. I’m sure you weren’t exactly an angel when your dad was gone. It doesn’t sound like you had a lot of respect for your mom…which kind of explains in general how you treated women.”

I glared at Ashley and exited the bathroom. She, of course, followed me out and continued the conversation, “Silence means it’s true.”

I shouted, “What are you? My fucking therapist? You are such a know-it-all. How the hell do you know all this stuff, about the softball, the muscle memory, and what would you know about army wives and their kids?

Ashley replied calmly, “Well, I went to school. I took theatre as a major, but I minored in psychology, and I took a handful of human kinetics courses. As for your last question, well it’s a hunch, but I’m thinking your mom didn’t hate you. She just found you challenging.”

I replied, “Are you aware that your education has made you a goddamn annoying know-it-all bitch? Quit talking about this like you are an expert. You have no way of knowing what I or my mom was going through at the time.”

Ashley sighed lightly, “I just listened to you tell this really nice story about your dad, how much you respected and admired him. Then I find out that someone who doesn’t treat women well or think very highly of them had issues with his mother. This isn’t exactly a fifty year old cold case, Ryan. It’s pretty easy to see it.”

I said, “My mom was weak. She couldn’t handle the life she chose. Why should I respect someone who didn’t want me? She hated when my dad went away because it meant she’d have to be my fucking mother again. When my dad was home, she was barely there- always playing cards at the neighbours.” I was becoming emotional, and once again, I could feel that lump form in my throat.

Ashley attempted to put her hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. She said, “It’s OK to feel angry about this. And it’s fine to let your emotions out. You might even feel better.”

I shook my head angrily and hopped into bed, quickly wiping my eyes, “I won’t, because then, I’ll be just like her.” I heard the clock on the wall strike the hour, and the lights immediately died. I heard Ashley fumbling for something behind the night stand.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ashley replied, “I’m plugging in the night light.”

I shot back, “Why are you doing that? You can’t take the dark?”

Ashley said, “I slept like shit last night because I was really scared. I need to be awake and really aware when we meet Hermie again tomorrow. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

I replied, “Fine. But that really sounds like something an eight year old girl would need. Not a grown woman.”

Ashley practically growled, “Are you really doing this? After what we discussed about sticking together? I was just trying to help you try and understand your mom a bit better that’s all. There’s no need to bite my head off or to resort to a cheap shot.”

Ashley clambered into the top bunk and didn’t say another word. Meanwhile, I shut my eyes tightly, desperately hoping that what I saw in the dark the night before was gone.

***

“Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day!”

I slowly climbed out of bed, and as I did, I heard a distinct groaning from the top bunk. I craned my head to see a disheveled and exhausted looking Ashley. Dark circles had formed underneath her eyes. She stared off into a void, not seeing me, just looking looked at the wall. To me, this was her opportunity to combat a weakness. I had managed to fall asleep, despite the persistent feeling that the dark was alive, a living breathing horror that descended on us every night.

I said, “Good job last night. See? You don’t need that kiddie light at all.”

Ashley continued to stare through me, she attempted to return her head to the pillow but Musica chimed, “Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day! Please join me, Kaylee!”

I replied, “I’m not singing that stupid song. Just let her sleep a bit more if she’s tired.”

Musica sung, “Kaylee, open your heart, and let joy inside, Madison won’t make a peep while she’s trying to sleep, so come along for the ride, because you’ll find two is more fun than one!”

I shook my head and walked over to the kitchen, quickly pouring myself a bowl of cereal. I noticed that the fridge had been completely restocked. When Ashley and I returned to the room yesterday after meeting Hermie, there was hardly anything in the fridge, but now, it was full of sandwiches, fresh milk and orange juice. I went to the cupboards, and I could see the pudding was restocked too. My eyes lit up, even as my cereal grew soggy. On the second shelf were boxes of Teddy Grahams, but just behind them, the best thing a kid could ever eat- cookies that came with their own dip, a melange of vanilla, chocolate frosting with multi-coloured sprinkles.

My cereal forgotten, I pulled down a box of what are known as Dunkaroos. The package featured a cartoon kangaroo surfing over an explosion of frosting and sprinkles. I tore open the package with little thought as to my actions.

Musica, who had been unsuccessful in waking Ashley, moved toward me. Like Hermie, a stern look could never mar her eternal smile, but she still chided me for my actions, “Kaylee, that’s not part of a balanced breakfast, have some juice, milk or toast, now young lady, you’ll not get a pass, and I’ll hear none of your sass!”

Despite Musica’s insistence, I was still able to completely ignore her. She held absolutely no power over me, and even better, there were no consequences for my actions. Still as my cookie and frosting-related euphoria wore off, my adult mind, with its ability to make firm connections began to worry. Someone had been in our room last night. That same someone refilled the fridge and stocked the shelves.

Musica sung, “If you want to be healthy and strong, eat a balanced breakfast and you can never go wrong! Breakfast the most important meal of the day, gives you energy to kick start your daaaaaaayyyyy!”

I put my hands over my ears and said, “Shut the fuck up, Musica. You’re so annoying. And that rhyme sucked.”

Musica chimed, “Remember what Hermie said, if you’re feeling mad or sad, don’t say a bad word, just stomp on your feelings like a big mud puddle, then you’ll be glaaaaaaaaad!”

I replied, singing mockingly, “Here’s a song for you. If I had a hammer, I’d smash then bash, your fucking face, then I wouldn’t have to listen to you yammer!” I knew that my rhyme was terrible, but that wasn’t the point.

Musica said sadly, “I’m sorry, Kaylee, but I’ll have to take your free play away again today.”

I shook my head, “Why the hell would I want to play with a bunch of dolls? Or ponies or play dress up. I don’t care about free play. I’ll just use the Gameboy.” Musica never stopped me from using the Gameboy. The thing didn’t have any arms or legs, but it did possess a grating Disneyesque singing voice.

“Because you just love, love, love brushing Zoe’s long golden hair. You’re missing out, little sister.”

I turned around to see a smirking Ashley, still looking exhausted, but at least more lively than the barely functioning human being she was when first waking up, “Now we’re even from last night, Ryan. Uh. Are you eating cookies for breakfast?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah. So what?”

Ashley said firmly, “Well this is the same thing as the night light. It is fear based for me, but it’s impulse control for you. If you can’t control yourself, then you are surrendering to Kaylee. Considering how easily you struck out at Mark yesterday, you are really going to have to watch that.”

I said, “That’s not the same thing. You shouldn’t be scared of the dark at your age. And I can control myself. I mean it’s not like I opened another package or something.”

Ashley shook her head, “It’s the exact same thing, Ryan. And if you can’t see that, then you’re in trouble.”

Still, I was unconvinced, “Needing the night light shows a weakness, Ashley. It means you aren’t acting like an adult.”

Ashley sighed heavily. Her frustration was apparent, and I had to admit, I was also bothered by her attitude. The fact that she had gone to college didn’t help either. I bore both jealousy toward her for this and anger at what I felt was her educated yet patronizing tone.

Ashley replied with that same tone, “It is. Look, the ability to stop ourselves from acting on our base instincts and desires is what defines us as adults. Some more than others. It’s pretty obvious that this entire room is a trap, meant to regress us. What was going through your head when you decided to eat cookies for breakfast?”

I said, “Well I saw them, took them down and started eating them. What’s the big deal?”

As I thought back to it, nothing in my head questioned my actions, there was no internal system or gatekeeper stopping me from dunking the cookies into the frosting. Yes, I ate cold pizza for breakfast at times, especially after a really hard night of partying or an extended session at Monique’s before recharging my batteries, but now, well I had eaten dessert for breakfast without thinking.

Ashley nodded, “The big problem is that is exactly what a kid Kaylee’s age would do. We’ve got relatively free rein in here. Musica tells us what to do, but we don’t actually have to listen to her. She can repeat herself over and over again, but there are no consequences. We are the only ones policing our actions.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Are you saying I’m weak because I ate some cookies for breakfast? Fuck, you make such a big deal out of everything.”

Ashley shook her head, “No, I’m not saying that. Just forget it. Did you read the script?”

I said nonchalantly, “Yeah, I skimmed it.”

Ashley sighed, the same frustrated sigh that was now very familiar to me. “We are supposed to know our lines. Maybe we should run some scenes.”

I shook my head, “No way am I saying those lines more than once. I know the lines, don’t worry about it.”

Ashley said, “Our families deserve to know that we are alive. I have no idea how long it’s been. We could have been out for weeks or months while they changed us. There might be police looking for us.”

I said, “What makes you think they’ll let us talk to our families? I don’t care about my mom, and she doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t even have my cell number. There’s only two people who are probably worried about me. Maybe only one.”

I thought about my complete lack of long-term friendships, and while the missing contact should have bothered me, it didn’t. It just made it easier to leave. Unfortunately, now, I was in a position where I had no choice- there was no running from this. I knew I would have to learn to get along with Ashley, if we were to have a hope of escaping.

Ashley said sternly, “Stop thinking about yourself for a minute and consider that someone else might want to contact their family or their friends. And if you can get it through that thick titanium-plated skull, just maybe you’d understand that there are going to be consequences for disobeying. You are so aggravating! Just-”

I interrupted, “Do exactly what you want and shut up about it? Is that what you told all your previous boyfriends?”

Ashley shook her head, “I know your type, Ryan. You aren’t going to be able to do your half-ass joking routine to get out of this. We are their prisoners. I’m not sure if that’s dawned on you yet. If we don’t start doing what they want, well they are probably going to find a way to make us follow their orders.”

Musica chimed, “Lights! Sound! Action! It’s time for my sweet girls to get in costume!” Musica glided toward the superstar makeover closet. Waiting for us, along with the record player, was a pink dress and a pair of jeans with a purple and yellow-striped sweater.

I said, “I call the jeans and that sweater.”

Ashley said in an exasperated tone, “You didn’t read the script, at all did you? Kaylee’s supposed to be wearing the pink dress.”

I replied, “I told you that I skimmed it. There is no chance in hell that I am wearing that though. I’ll just wear the same things as yesterday.”

Ashley emitted a low growl that I was also familiar with- she sounded like a cornered feline. “OK. You know what? Wear whatever you want, Ryan. I’m tired of trying to be your friend in this. You aren’t respecting what I have to say or my opinion. You are going to do your own thing. That’s fine. Just don’t blame me when it blows up in your face. I don’t want any part of the train wreck.”

I sighed, clearing my throat gently, “The other guys, you have no idea how much they will laugh at me. I know I don’t look like it, but they will still see a dude in a dress. And I did read the script. I always skim them. I like to adlib.”

Ashley’s expression softened, “Remember what we talked about yesterday though? You don’t owe those two anything. Don’t let yourself be judged by them.”

I shook my head and pointed at the dress, “That is really easy for you to say. You get to wear clothes you consider normal, just meant for a kid. I mean the panties, OK- still mostly like underwear. But this ridiculous thing. If I wear it, I'll feel like I’m giving up. And Devon and Mark are going to see it the same way.”

Ashley nodded, “OK, so your identity is tied to your clothing, is that it? Everything you are- every last thing is entirely contingent on your clothing. Look, I know it’s going to be embarrassing for you, but if you’re a real man, you can be one wearing a dress.”

She added, “Plus, those two haven’t done a thing to help you through this, Ryan. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve been supportive. I seem to remember Mark calling you gay for wearing a shirt with a butterfly on it. It’s kind of the same thing I’ve been talking about too. Mark is really impulsive and that probably just feeds into what they want from us. Do you really want to go along with a guy who is-”

My eyes rolled back into my head, and I feigned falling over. “OK. OK! I’ll put the stupid dress on. I get it. Mark is an asshole, and I shouldn’t follow his lead because he’s already acting like a kid. Fuck, just get a big neon sign next time.”

Ashley smirked but didn’t say a word.

I pulled the dress from the hangar, staring at it like it was a soiled, ripped pair of underwear. I entered the bathroom quickly as it was still the only place I could dress. Shucking off my pajamas, I pulled the dress overhead, allowing my arms to slip through the straps.

I sighed as I peered at myself in the mirror. The dress was striped, white and neon pink featured throughout, although the pink stripes were thicker. The top of the dress fit like the tank top I used to wear to the gym, but as the white and pink stripes marched in parallel fashion to the bottom, all familiarity ended. Flaring outwards was a skirt. There was no other name for it. There was no material between my legs that would have formed a pair of shorts.

Sadly, it reminded me of a cheerleader's skirt, not because it was short, but because of the way it flared. If I wanted, I could have completed a flourish or a twirl with the skirt, the same as the pyramid-building adolescents.

This would be the ultimate test of my manhood, but perhaps it would also give my acting chops a workout too. If I could, as Ashley suggested, play along, and still retain everything that made me Ryan Sullivan, maybe I could regain my confidence. As much as I hated to admit it, Ashley was at least partially right, my change had sapped my confidence, and it made it almost impossible to mount a concerted defence against the powerful emotions that sought to reduce me to a simpering little girl.

***

It sounded like a hyena who had swallowed a bicycle bump. The constant high-pitched, derisive laughter grated on me, and instinctively, I moved behind Ashley. I almost immediately left the cover of her taller form, but the damage was done. We had returned to the studio and I was beginning to think the dress was a poor idea.

Mark said, “Fuck, man! I’m convinced you were a fucking chick before. Were your parents weird or something, calling a girl Ryan, or were you born with both a dick and a pussy? They really fucked up- they should have raised you as a girl!” The studio provided Mark the perfect spotlight, a single ray shining down on him as he spewed his obscenities.

In response to this, Devon laughed even harder, now adding a pointing finger to his mocking. Mark joined in, and I expected Ashley to intervene but she never did. The spot behind her, away from the insulting and potentially damaging laughter, looked like home. The laughter continued, and again, the tears welled, but still Ashley did nothing.

Mark shook his head, “You are fucking pathetic. Be a goddamn man about this. Come on, hit me like you did yesterday. Show some balls.” He pointed to his cheek. “Hit me right there. As hard as you can.”

While despair descended on me, I also felt a growing anger. It erupted outward as my fist leapt toward Mark’s cheek. It made solid contact, but I hadn’t tucked my thumb in properly. It hurt like hell, pain immediately shooting up and down my hand.

I held my hand as Mark just stared at me, with a shit-eating grin. “That’s better. Look, I know that Ms. Perfect is going to go along with what they want. But look at this.” Devon pulled something from the back pocket of his overalls.

He held a screwdriver in his small hands the same way you might expect a child would hold a prized toy.

Mark said, “This place isn’t hot, and there’s no fans- so I figured there’s gotta be fucking ventilation, right? Well we found one. Since you did such a shit job with Hermie yesterday, you’re volunteering. So if you can crawl in your pretty fucking dress, you might be able to get to a place where you can open a door or something and let us out.”

Devon whispered, “So we figure this- when that stupid fucking hippo comes out. We beat him down again, but this time, we fucking knock him right out. That should give you enough time to get the grate open and climb in the shaft.”

Ashley finally interjected, “What happens next guys? We are let loose on the world as a group of elementary school students? Maybe we got lost on a field trip and some Good Samaritan will call our parents? This plan of yours is really stupid.”

I shook my head, “Not completely. The ventilation shaft will lead to somewhere else. A different room maybe with some clues as to what happened to us. Uh. But maybe you guys can just stall Hermie, instead of beating the shit out of him. And I agree with Ashley, it doesn’t make much sense leaving here looking like this. We have to know how this happened to us to see how we can get back our real bodies.”

Mark said, “Figures that the fucking girls would stick together. Fine, we’ll do it your way. The shaft is behind the school sound stage.”

Ashley looked at me in concern, “Are you sure about this? What if you get caught?”

I pulled Ashley to the side, so I could speak to her privately, “Then I deal with the consequences. Look, I agree that it is stupid to leave looking like this, but if I can find something- anything, that tells us how they did this, then we might be able to figure out how to turn back or someone else will. You know? I feel like we have to try at least. They seem to only let us out to tape the show.”

Ashley was still conflicted, as her bottom lip extended in a slight pout. I couldn’t tell if she meant to make the expression because she looked ridiculous. Maybe it looked far different on her adult self. She sighed gently and nodded. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll stall Hermie as long as I can.”

Like the day before, the studio was empty of people. The lights and the boom mics were all in position, but unlike yesterday, I could actually see cameras set up on the various sound stages. My feet, clad in a pair of ballet flats (also part of my costume), moved quickly to my target. Seconds later, I heard the elevator thrum to life and quickened my pace.

As I passed the classroom sound stage, I felt a shiver travel up my spine. I knew that the outside world would only see Kaylee. I had serious doubts that anyone would believe that Ryan Sullivan still lived within the little blonde-haired girl. Because of that, if somehow we escaped, a return to school was inevitable. I could certainly display my intelligence, the impressive vocabulary, but in the end, I couldn’t even write my name. It took Ashley hours to write a very crude ‘S’. I slipped past the last camera and found the vent that Mark and Devon were talking about.

Thankfully, the Philip’s head screwdriver in my hands matched the screws on the grate blocking the ventilation shaft. The grate lay within a darkened portion of the sound stage, the many studio lights nearby forming vicious shadows that crept within my mind. I set to work quickly, eyeing the dark that lay beyond, a mysterious rolling blackness that threatened to chill my heart and mind, and freeze my limbs in the process.

I heard voices- the overjoyed lilt of the cartoon hippo and the assembled children. I managed to fit the screwdriver into the waiting slot, but it tumbled from my grasp. My heart did not simply beat, it thudded, as if it were trying to escape my chest. I tried again, knowing that I had very little time until Hermie or someone else found me, but again, it fell, clattering loudly to the floor.

Finally, after three tries, I managed to firmly and confidently place the screwdriver in the slot, but only after realizing that I needed a second hand to steady it. My hand shook as I turned the tool, but I was shocked when the screw wouldn’t budge. Even jamming my body against the grate and using it for leverage failed to yield the desired result. I knelt there, the dress pooling around me, desperately trying not to cry.

Fighting the urge, I gripped the screwdriver again, and this time, my entire body shook as I tried to turn the screw. Still it wouldn’t budge.

I heard a voice, projected over loud speakers, “Give it up and join your friends, Kaylee. Hermie is so looking forward to see you!”

It was Ms. Daniels.