When I got back to my room my face was still flush.

“No need to guess what you were doing in there so long,” Pattie said.

God, she knows, I thought. Panic gripped me and my face reddened more.

“No need to be so embarrassed. It's not like you're the only one.”

Oh, she thinks I was … Still, I knew what happened. What I didn't know was how I felt about it. Part of me wanted to do it again as soon as possible, but part of me was humiliated that Sue had “had her way with me.” Why hadn't I stood up to her? Sure, every red-blooded boy, or girl, or whatever I was, wanted sex, but there was more than that. Part of me liked Sue telling me what to do. It gave me a rush. I didn't know if I liked that part of me. A final part of me felt that the whole thing was wrong in a way too vague to figure out.

Anyway, I was very embarrassed, and Pattie smirking didn't help. I decided she didn't deserve to be tutored in algebra – at least not tonight. Putting on my satin nitie did make me feel better. Despite what happened when Sue held my boy part, I felt like such a girl. I sat quietly for a while, unable to concentrate on my homework. Eventually, my conscience got the better of me. It wasn't Pattie's fault that I let myself be Sue's toy. So, I helped Pattie understand the algebra axioms and how they worked. When I finished, I felt better about myself.

My homework didn't take long until I got to my women's history essay. I read about Sappho on line to see what was fact and what was Ms. Crawford “filling in gaps.” There was a lot of filling in. Still, Ms. Crawford had a point – if women had written her history, we'd know a lot more about Sappho. Maybe we'd know what Ms. Crawford filled in. I thought about Judy complaining that's not how you do history, and Sue saying it didn't matter because Ms. Crawford was the teacher and we should just tell her what she wants to hear.

Once I got started, the beginning of my essay went fast. I stated the facts, and used weasel words to add Ms. Crawford's fill-ins: “we can imagine that …” and “it's natural to think that …” The hard part was deciding what sort of role model Sappho was for us – well, you know, for women. I was stuck there for a while. Finally, I thought, “What kind of role model was she for me?” The artistic part was easy. I related it to my dress designing – Ms. Crawford would eat that up. The lesbian part was harder to figure out. I thought about John making out with me, kissing and snuggling with Pattie, and being Sue's toy. I finally wrote that Sappho figured out who she was and who she loved, and we should all admire that. It sure was something I hadn't managed to do.

I was in bed by 9:30 and quickly asleep. The fawns again. This time I was one, but Sue had put a collar around my neck and attached a leash. She was leading me on a beautiful walk by the creek. The other fawns were looking at me. I was proud she'd selected me to be her pet, but then the other fawns started snickering. I wanted to go back and play with them but she was pulling on the leash, choking me. I woke up with my nitie tangled around me so badly that I had to get out of bed to straighten it.

When I went back to sleep I was in women's history sitting at an old fashion double desk with Sue. She had her hand under my skirt, caressing my thigh. Ms. Crawford saw her doing it and smiled. Sue pushed her hand between my legs. I relaxed them a little and she moved her hand up. I woke up pulsing in my panties – my first wet dream.

When the morning bell rang, I'd slept little and was nauseous to boot. I decided to skip breakfast and see nurse Snyder instead. I had to wait on the bench outside of her office until she arrived a little after 7:30.

“What seems to be the problem, dear?”

“I think I must have a bug. I've been nauseous every morning for about a week.”

“Any fever?”

I shook my head no.

She swiped an electronic thermometer across my forehead and into my ear. “Looks like you're fine. A lot of our girls get nauseous at first, but you'll find it's worth it. It should go away in a week or two.” She went to a cupboard and put some pills in a tiny envelop. “Take one of these in the morning if your tummy's bothering you. You'll feel better in about 15 minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“Off you go, dear.”

I took a pill at the drinking fountain. As I walked to algebra, I wondered what could be worth it?

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. I got called to the board in algebra and so pleased Ms. Harding with my explanation that she set me a harder problem that I also figured out. In women's history we learned how Aristotle thought women were defective males, and ranked them below men but higher than slaves. In French we learned the rules of pronunciation and were individually asked to pronounce words Mlle. Bonbleu wrote on the board. One or two of the girls got a ruler on their open palms for prononciation de horrible. Michele had us line up by height, put our arms on each other's shoulders, and practice synchronized high kicks until our muscles ached. I figured they'd come in handy if I ever needed to defend whatever was left of my virtue. It did instill a sense of unity and timing. We looked pretty good in the mirror before we pooped out.

All the while, what happened with Sue would pop into my head, and every time it did, it was painfully embarrassing. Not only had I let Sue “have her way with me,” but I had completely lost control and messed all over her skirt. On top of that, she'd said my penis didn't measure up! I wondered if she'd seen other boys or looked at dirty pictures like some of the boys at Emerson did. Anyway, the whole thing made me so nauseous I didn’t want to repeat it.

At lunch Sue came by our table. Luckily, there was no room for her, so she looked frustrated. She asked where I was at breakfast. I said I wasn't feeling well and went to see nurse Snyder.

“Yeah, periods can be real bitches!” she said before leaving reluctantly.

I didn't know how to take that. Maybe it was just her way of keeping my secret. Judy and Pattie both looked at me like, what was that about? I shrugged.

Part of me wanted to talk to someone, maybe Judy, or even Dr. Koebler, but it was so painful thinking about it, I decided it would be best if I just pretended it didn't happen. Besides, what could Judy do? And, if I talked to Dr. Koebler, I'd probably get in trouble.

In English, Ms. Cunningham moderated a spirited discussion about Sarah Scott and the Bluestockings. She read passages and asked us to relate them to her life events. We all agreed that 18th century England was a crappy place to live if you were female. We wondered if her husband was gay. Either way, it was easy to see why Sarah never consummated her marriage and preferred the companionship of Lady Barbara Montagu. Psych was a different story. I alternated between falling asleep and waking up at hearing Dr. Koebler say things that reminded me of what Sue and I did. Luckily, I didn't fall out of my seat, and she didn't ask or expect questions. Art was easier to stay awake for. We learned how sculpture developed from bas relief and fertility idols to the fluid creations of classical Greece

After class, Sue stopped me in the hallway, wanting to talk. She had a look I couldn't read. I told her I had an appointment and didn't have time. Still, I got very uncomfortable tucked back in my girdle. I hurried off to the library, like I was supposed to meet someone there.

When I got there I saw Sue following me. Maybe she didn't believe me, or maybe she wanted to see who I was meeting. Looking around, I saw Judy sitting at a table, making notes in a book.

“What cha readin'?”

“The Power of Women in a Post Modern Society.” She showed me the cover.

“Is it good?”

“Well, it's got some good points, but there's a lot of bull shit about power making truth. You have to sort the potatoes from the manure. You want to read it when I'm done?”

“I think I'll pass.”

“If your going to be a girl at this school, you should learn about this stuff.”

“Maybe you could just tell me what I need to know when your done?”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

“Mel, did you know that Sue followed you in and is behind the Greek literature shelves spying on us?” she said, not looking directly in Sue's direction.

“Oh, God!”

“What's with the two of you?”

'”It's embarrassing.”

“It can't be any more embarrassing than pretending to be a girl, or making out with Pattie.”

“We weren't making out, just kissing … But, yeah, it is … more embarrassing I mean.”

“Do tell.”

“Not here, someone might hear, let’s go for a walk by the creek.”

Judy said she thought we were being followed. I glanced back, and saw Sue darting into the trees behind us, but she was too far away to hear us.

“It started the other morning when I was brushing my teeth and Sue came into the bathroom to pee …” I told her the whole story except what I promised Sue I would keep secret. The missing parts made Judy ask embarrassing questions, but I just said there were some things I promised not to talk about.

“So that's why she was buzzing around at breakfast and lunch, and spying on us in the library. You're her boy-girl toy. How do you feel about that?”

“Confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yeah, part of me liked it, part of me is mad because she changed the rules, but mostly I'm so embarrassed by it all I just want to pretend it didn't happen.”

“I don't think Sue's going to let you pretend it didn't happen.” With that she turned and waved at Sue who was trying to hide in some bushes about 30 yards away. She blushed and ran off.

“I wish you hadn't done that. I don't know what she'll do now.”

“She'll do whatever you let her do, so you better decide what that is.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I walked back to my room. There was no sign of Sue.

I tried my best to put Sue out of my mind and do my homework. Mostly I succeeded, but whenever I'd try to relax between tasks, the memory of what happened would pop into my mind. I found myself reaching up under my skirt and fondling myself through my panties. I was fantasizing being held and kissed, but who was doing it was very vague. It wasn't long until I made a mess of my panties. If I didn't change them, my skirt would soon be stained, but if I got fresh panties and changed, Pattie would know what I'd been doing. I decided it would be worse if she saw a wet spot on my skirt. So, I got a fresh pair of panties and retreated to the bathroom.

“My God, Mel, don't you have any self control?”

“I guess not,” I admitted shame-faced.

Once in the bathroom, I realized how tired I was after my stressful day and decided to get ready for bed. Then I realized that if I'd taken my nitie out of the drawer with my clean panties, Pattie wouldn’t have guessed what I was doing. Oh well. Live and learn.

I slept so soundly that I didn't remember my dreams. I woke early. By the time I was in the bathroom, I was so nauseous I threw up. I remembered mom telling me how she got morning sick when she was first pregnant with me. It flashed through my mind that I could be pregnant. Surprisingly, the idea made me smile. Of course, I couldn’t be. So I took one of my new pills, and felt better in a few minutes.

The bell hadn’t rung by the time I opened the door to leave. I thought maybe I could get breakfast early and so avoid Sue. It was not to be. She was in the hall leaning against the wall opposite my door.

“You've been avoiding me!”

“Yes, I have. I'm just too embarrassed to talk to you.”

“I don't care, we need to talk. It's early, we can take a walk before breakfast,” she said, grabbing my hand. I did not realize how strong she was – or how weak I was. Either way, I couldn't get my hand free, so I stumbled after her. The quad was almost empty, so we had privacy as soon as we got outside.

“You told her, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You told Judy what happened?”

“Yeah, but I kept your secret, like I promised.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just told her you found out I was a boy and wanted to see me nude. I didn’t tell her how you found out, or that you like girls.”

“Oh,” she said like the air got let out of her. She thought for a while before saying “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome – but that’s not all is it? I mean you were trying to talk to me all day before I talked to Judy.”

“Yeah, I was.” She blushed. “I wanted to say … to say I didn’t like it. … touching it … I mean your … ah … part. I think I don’t really like boys. I know I don’t.”

“Really? It’s not like I forced you. It’s more like you forced me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m really ashamed of myself. No one should force a girl or woman – even if she is a boy. I’ll turn myself in and quit Braintree if you like.”

“You don’t need to do that, we’re all learning. I don’t think you’ll do it again.”

“I won’t,” she said quietly. “Is Judy going to tell everyone what a slut I am?”

“You’re not a slut, just curious like we all are – and no, Judy’s not like that. She won’t tell anyone.”

Sue started crying, then sobbing. I held her to me. When she regained her composure, I said “Let’s have some breakfast.” We both walked with a lighter step.