Sister said in a quiet voice, "Come with me." I had no idea what was going to happen next, and to tell the truth, I was a little afraid. She walked to the far corner of the room, and opened a tall, dark door.

"Oh," I said, my mouth full of mashed potatoes. "Who is Peppermint Patty? Do either of you know?"

"Um, yeah," Dad said. "Don't you know Peanuts? And don't talk with your mouth full."

I thought for a moment and shook my head.

"Charlie Brown?" he prompted. "Lucy, Linus, Snoopy?"

"Oh, right," I said. "I thought it was just called Charlie Brown."

"No," he said. "And Peppermint Patty... who was she? Peppermint Patty is the tomboy, right, Linda?"

"I think so," Mom said. "Why?"

"In gym, the senior girls kept asking me where Peppermint Patty was."

A light went on in Dad's brain.

"Oh, right! Peppermint Patty's best friend was called Marcie. She was this dorky girl with glasses. She always calls Peppermint Patty 'sir'."

"Umm," I said. "How nice."

Dad chuckled in spite of himself.

"If you ignore it, they'll probably stop saying it," Mom suggested. "Besides, none of your friends look like Peppermint Patty, do they?"

"And I don't look dorky, right?"

Unfortunately, Dad was thinking — about something else. So instead of answering my question, he said, "I've got one of those Peanuts books someplace. I'll get it after din–" He stopped dead, then said, "No, I won't. It's in storage."

The three of us were doing that all the time. You'd think of something, a book, a tool, a funny little thing you want to show someone, and just as you were going to go get it, you'd remember: it was in storage. It just kept happening, over and over.

Most of my stored stuff was Mark stuff, so I didn't miss it much, but even so, I couldn't wait until it was all unpacked and available.

So I could throw it all away, I suppose.

"I'm pretty sure we'll get a closing date tomorrow," Mom said, literally crossing her fingers. "It might be as soon as Thursday or Friday."

"Oh, God, I hope so," Dad and I said at once.

We were *all* tired of the close quarters.

"But wait," I said. "If the date is tomorrow, how could it be Thursday or Friday?"

Mom gave me a look. "Tomorrow they will give us the date, which could be–"

"I get it, I get it," I said quickly.

We talked about the new house for a bit, but I didn't tell my parents about seeing the girl in the window.

Why? Well, I wasn't sure whether I'd imagined it. If she really was there, she'd probably just gone in on a lark, just to sneak into an empty house. She couldn't be living there. Mom and Dad have been through the place several times already. They would have noticed. Besides, I was pretty sure I'd recognize the girl if I saw her again, so if she broke anything... But anyway, once we moved in, I knew Dad would change all the locks and make sure the house was secure. It was one of the first things on his to-do list.

There *was* something I wanted to talk to Mom about, though. "Mom, I think I'm going to need more uniform blouses for the next two weeks."

"Marcie, you interr– oh, never mind. Why do need more blouses?"

"I have to go to detention after gym, and I can't shower. So I have to sit there, all funky, for an hour."

"Mmm," Mom said. "I'll get you some more. Maybe you could clean yourself with some baby wipes..." Her voice trailed off.

"Huh?"

"I did that once in an airport. You just go into a bathroom stall and, you know, use them..." She waved her hands around her underarms and upper body, holding an imaginary baby wipe. "It's not horrible."

I silently passed on that option, and said, "I'm okay with blouses for tomorrow and Wednesday."

Then, after a pause, I licked my lips and threw this out to them: "You know... if I had the operation, I wouldn't have this problem."

It was my father's turn to go white. My mother just bit her lip.

"She brought this up earlier," Mom said. "I told her what we'd discussed. Marcie, you can't push this. Nobody switches from boy to girl in the space of a couple of months."

Dad wiped his mouth. "Doctors have protocols they have to follow. We have been working on this, though, since you've come so far in other areas." He reddened a little. "AND since you're so actively interested in dating."

He cleared his throat. "About that: I hope you understand that we're primarily concerned about your safety..."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, we worry that someone might accidentally find out that you're not... all girl."

"Oh."

"The point is, we don't want you to get hurt. At the same time, we don't want you to be... how can I put it..." He sighed and said, "sexually active."

"Ohhh," I said, getting it. "You don't want me to think that if you help me get the operation, that you're giving me some kind of license..." Now it was my turn to get embarrassed.

"Exactly," Dad said grimly. "I'm glad we understand each other."

I ate in silence for half a minute, and had some trouble swallowing.

Dad continued, "We do have to find you a new endocrinologist and a new therapist. We made an appointment for you with someone Mr. Marks recommended. We'll see whether you like him, and whether we like him."

"When is that?" I asked.

"Saturday at nine."

I groaned.

"It's a small price to pay, if you really want to do this," Dad said, a little irritated.

"I know," I said. "I'm not complaining about that."

"Good."

"It's just that it's so early in the morning!"

My father shook his head, but he smiled.

"We are still on California time," Mom admitted.

Even if I'm not tall, I never felt little until the next day in gym. A lot of it is due to the age difference: I'm the only freshman in a class of seniors, so they're all three years older than me.

Plus, we were playing basketball, which I've never been good at. I thought that girls wouldn't be as competitive and mean as boys, but I was wrong. Many of the girls in the class are on the team, and they pretty much played by themselves while the rest of us ran back and forth trying to catch a rebound.

Everyone — even the girls who weren't basketball players — seemed to be at least a foot taller than me. I'm in the land of the giants, I told myself.

Okay, so they weren't really *that* tall, but still... I had to look up to virtually everyone.

One of the seniors, who was a little geeky, took pity on me and explained that the gym teacher was also the basketball coach. "You just have to do two things: keep moving, and keep your arms in the air when you're near your basket." So I did that, but still the coach kept yelling unintelligible things at me.

We hadn't played for very long when Mara, a big-boned basketball star, gave me a hip-shot that knocked me off the court. I didn't expect it, so I fell like a ragdoll on the sidelines. Of course the teacher missed seeing what Mara did, so she yelled at me to get back in the game! Mara hung out her tongue and laughed.

It didn't bother me much the first time, but when she did it a second time, I got angry. The coach yelled at me again, so I pointed at Mara and shouted, "She knocked me down!"

"No excuses!" the coach yelled. "Get in the game!"

The third time, I saw it coming. Mara was coming up fast and hard. She shifted, turned, and cocked her hip. I dropped flat to the floor, so that when her hip swung, it met no resistance. She stumbled, falling over me, and she went down hard. Her legs hurt me a little as she fell, and her big clunky sneakers scratched my thigh, but I quickly slid away from her and jumped up smirking.

Not for long! Mara's face twitched with anger, and the coach was suddenly behind me. She grabbed both my arms and marched me off the court.

"Right now! Office! Detention!" she barked as she pushed me toward the door.

"What!?" I shrieked. "Why is okay when she does it?"

"She's a basketball player!" the coach shouted. "Now move!"

As I headed out of the gym, I looked back at Mara, who sat on the floor, smiling wickedly, with the ball on her lap.

Glistening with perspiration and red-faced with anger, I made my way through the empty hall to Sister Honororia's office. Another detention!

Sister herself was standing in the outer office. Her secretary wasn't there, and Honororia was looking through some papers.

"Marcella," she said in a questioning tone. "What brings you here?" Her voice was strangely different: calm, almost tired. It didn't have its usual edge.

I told her the story, and she surprised me by listening to the whole thing without interrupting or reacting.

The way she looked at me, I was very conscious of how sweaty and angry I looked. Part of me was wondering what the correct "virtuous and ladylike behavior" was supposed to be, but I couldn't come up with anything.

When I finished talking, Sister said in a quiet voice, "Come with me. I want to show you something." She walked into her office and I followed. I had no idea what was going to happen next, and to tell the truth, I was a little afraid. She led me to the far corner of the room, and opened a tall, dark door.

I remembered my fear that she wanted to lock me in the basement and beat me with a cane, but when I looked inside the door, all I saw was a large bathroom with very old fixtures. What in the world? I didn't get it. Then she spoke.

"This is my private bathroom," she said. "While you have detention this week and next week ONLY, on the days when you have gym, you may shower in here. I'll make sure you find a clean towel."

"Th-thank you, sister." I was utterly and completely shocked.

She shut the door, and walked back to the outer office, where she picked up a pad from her secretary's desk. Without looking at me, she said, "I would appreciate it if you don't mention this liberty to any of the students."

I quickly said, "No, sister."

"And don't touch or look at anything in my office. I'm sure I'd notice." She scribbled something on the pad and ripped off the top sheet. "Give this to your teacher," she said. "It says that you have detention today, which is true." She looked into my eyes, but it was an expressionless look.

"Thank you, sister."

"One more thing: I'm taking away one of your detentions. A week from Thursday will be your last detention. Understood?"

"Yes, sister. Thank you, sister."

"Now go," she said. "And remember."

I ran back to class, and managed to look a little hangdog as I gave Coach the note. She tucked it into the papers on her clipboard and said, "Get back in the game, Donner."

Honororia wasn't there when I showered. It was certainly a relief to be clean for the hour of detention. Once again, the same girl was there, and once again we couldn't sit together or talk. Since we weren't supposed to look at each other, I couldn't get a good view of her, but I didn't think I'd seen her during the day in the halls or the cafeteria.

I finished my homework, read some poems, and thought a bit. It was odd, the way that Honororia had been nice to me. She hadn't made any comment at all on my story. Nothing about who was to blame or what I should have done. I wondered what was behind it. Maybe she had a problem with Coach? Maybe I caught her in a good mood?

© 2007 Kaleigh Way