Mom froze. "Marcie Auburn?" she repeated cautiously. "Is there something you want to tell me, Marcie? You're not planning on eloping, are you? You're too young to get married... in fact, even if you were old enough, I don't think you could get married."

I gave Mom a quick overview of my experiences with the Amazons. She didn't buy it, and continued to insist that — in spite of the sense of reality and level of detail — my travels and adventures with Wiggy and the Amazons was nothing but a fever dream.

I couldn't accept it, and I didn't accept it.

"This is the whole Marcie Auburn thing all over again!" I exclaimed aloud.

Mom froze. "Marcie Auburn?" she repeated cautiously. "Is there something you want to tell me, Marcie? You're not planning on eloping, are you? You're too young to get married... even with parental consent — which you can count on NOT having, by the way. In fact, even if you were old enough, I don't think you could get married."

"Oh, Mom!" I groaned. "I'm not getting married! Jerry's going out with Eden, anyway. I had a dream that I was Marcie Auburn. That's what I was talking about."

"So in this dream, you were married to Jerry?"

"No." I looked at her, remembering a feeling from that dream. My own mother was willing to trade me for a child from another family. "He and I switched families. He was Jerry Donner and I was Marcie Auburn."

"Oh!" Mom said, surprised. Then, musing aloud she said, "Well, it might be nice to have a boy in the family."

I let out a long, slow breath. She caught my expression.

"Marcie, you know how I love you — and how I love the way you are! I could never give you up or trade you away! It's just that it would be nice to have a boy around as well."

"I guess," I said.

"Or do you think you'd rather have a sister?" she asked me.

"What? I don't know. A big sister or a little sister?"

"It would have to be a little sister, wouldn't it?"

A bit confused, I shook my head. "Are you trying to tell me something, Mom?"

"No," she said, but it sounded like yes.

I let out another huff of air. As if things weren't complicated enough!

"I guess you're used to being an only child..." Mom murmured.

But I wasn't listening. My mind was racing through everything that had happened: Talking to Mrs. Gifford... taking the secret tunnel out of the house...

"Hey, Mom!" I interrupted. "The secret tunnel is real, right? We *did* do that, didn't we?"

"What? Oh, yes. That's how we went to Ida's."

Next came the dinner at Ida's... I knew *that* was real. Then, getting sick... meeting Wiggy...

Suddenly a memory flashed into my mind: Just before I left the house with Wiggy, Mom was shoving that book of fairy tales into my bag. That stupid book! The book was there when I was on the plane with Wiggy. It was also in my dream of Marcie Auburn. Was there really such a book? Did my mother shove it into my bag? Did anything like that happen?

Again, I interrupted my mother: "Mom, did you buy me a book of fairy tales?"

"When? When you were little? I'm sure I did."

"No, I mean recently... now. As a Christmas present."

"No..." she answered, cautiously. "Did you *want* a book of fairy tales?"

"No," I answered crossly. "I just want to know whether you bought me one: a book of transgendered fairy tales."

Mom was thoroughly puzzled. "I don't even know if there IS such a thing, Marcie. Do you want me to find one for you?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "I only want to know if you bought me one already, and shoved it into my suitcase!"

She didn't answer right away. She looked at me, considering what to say. At last, she told me, "Marcie, I know that you've been sick. You've had a high fever and imagined all sorts of things... you think you've been away somewhere, but believe me, none of that happened. I'm going to go downstairs and get you some nice broth to drink and some dry toast to eat, and a big cup of tea. And while I do that, you can try to wake up and come to terms with the fact that we are living in the here and now. If you don't believe *me*, you can ask your father when he comes home."

With that, she turned and left, before I had a chance to say anything more.

Once she was gone, my eye fell on my computer. I ran to my desk and turned it on. "Come on, come on!" I urged, coaxing it through the boot process. At last, when I was logged in, I opened a web browser and googled PRINCESS MARCELLINE. Everything I found was about a Princess Marcelline Czartoryska. She was a friend and pupil of Chopin. That was all. There was nothing about a fairy tale by that name.

I tried to remember the name of the author. It was something weird... Kay... Kay-something... Then it came to me. I googled for KALEIGH WAY. A lot of irrelevant results came up, but the only "Kaleigh Way" I found was a road somewhere in Texas.

What did it mean? Did I imagine all of that? It just couldn't be possible.

I stood up, feeling slightly light-headed, and looked at my face in the mirror. Mom was right: I didn't have a sunburn, or even a tan. I looked pretty pale... weak and washed-out.

Downstairs, I heard the phone ring twice. Mom's voice was just barely audible as she spoke to whoever was calling. Probably Ida.

After putting on my slippers and picking up my robe, I went to the bathroom and then washed my face. Wrapping the robe around me, I went downstairs, leaning on the rail as I descended. There wasn't any reason I couldn't eat downstairs.

As I got closer to the kitchen, I could smell the chicken broth. It had a strong effect on my stomach, but still I thought I could eat it. I remembered the tang of that bad coconut milk, and put both hands on my stomach. How could I possibly remember an imaginary taste?

"Feeling any better?" Mom asked.

"Yes, a little." I dropped into a kitchen chair, crossed my arms on the table, and lay my head down, turning it sideways so I could watch my mother as she poured a huge mug of tea. "Isn't it early in the morning for broth?" I asked.

"Usually it would be, but you haven't had any food for more than a day," she replied, and arranged the mugs of soup and tea next to a plate of plain, cold toast.

I picked up one of the triangles and took a tiny bite off the corner. I chewed and chewed and chewed before I washed it down with a small sip of tea.

"Oh, dear," Mom said. "If only you could eat that way all the time! Instead of shoveling it in, like you usually do."

"Mmmph," I grunted.

"Well!" Mom began, with a big smile, "I just had an interesting phone call. You'll never guess who's coming to see you today!"

"Uh, Wiggy?"

"No," Mom said in a firm tone. "Wiggy is not a real person."

"Ms. Gifford?"

"No."

"Theresa?"

"Who?"

"Theresa Dandino, the police detective."

"No."

I sighed. "I give up."

Mom gave a satisified chuckle. "I knew you couldn't guess. Cassie Auburn just called. She's in New Jersey to look at Princeton, and while she's on this side of the country, she thought she'd look you up!"

"Oh, my God!" I cried, and for a moment, I tried to remember whether I *really* knew she was coming, or only dreamed that I knew. Then it came back to me: Jerry had told me. The last time he and I spoke, when he broke up with me, he said that Cassie might come.

"Wow," I said. "When will she be here?"

"Today," Mom replied. "I told you. She'll be here for lunch, and if you feel up to it, you could bundle up and take her for a walk." She felt my forehead and cheek with the back of her hand. "If you feel up to it. I don't want you catching a cold when you've just gotten over a fever."

"Mmm," I said. "I think it might be a good idea. I'll take a shower after I finish eating." I took a deep sip of the broth. It was good. A healthy glow from the broth went all through me, even down my arms and legs. "Mom, my compliments to the chef. This broth is really the right stuff."
 

When Cassie arrived, I was surprised to see that she looked pretty much the way she had in my dream. Then I remembered it was only a month or so since I'd last seen her: the day before Thanksgiving.

In contrast to my "Marcie Auburn" dream, Cassie was smiling and happy to see me. Before she even took her coat off, she opened her arms to give me a big hug. Although I had a strong instinct to protect my butt, I suppressed it and hugged her as warmly as she hugged me.

Mom made one lunch for me, and another for Cassie and herself. My meal was pretty bland: poached chicken, white rice with nothing on it, and more chicken broth with crackers.

She and Cassie ate a very elaborate chef salad and a leek and potato soup.

"I think this soup is too creamy for you," Mom told me. "Tomorrow you can have some if you like."

"Cock-a-leeky soup," I said, remembering Booger's discussion of the Burns Night dinner: haggis, potatoes, turnips... and cock-a-leeky soup.

"Oh, that's a Scottish dish, isn't it?" my mother asked. "What put that in your mind?"

"We were supposed to eat it one night," I said, and my voice trailed off.

Cassie gave me a puzzled look.

"Who was supposed to eat it?" Mom asked.

I bit my lower lip. "The Amazons," I said in a low voice.

"Ah," Mom said.

"Who are the Amazons?" Cassie asked, as she lifted her spoon to her lips.

"They're cheerleaders," I said.

"In a dream," my mother added.

I looked down and didn't say anything. Cassie gave my mother a questioning glance.

Mom explained about the dinner with Ida... the food poisoning... my fever... and finished up by saying, "And so, Marcie ended up having a very elaborate dream. It was so real to her that she got upset with me this morning because I hadn't bought her some book..."

"No, I didn't want you to buy the book," I said hotly. "In the dream... or whatever it was... you bought the book and stuck it in my luggage! That was the problem!"

"Well, I'm sure I'm sorry," my mother laughed, tongue in cheek. "I won't do it again! I promise!"

At Cassie's prompting, I told the story as briefly as I could. I left out a lot. I had to. I didn't say anything about the Marcie Auburn episode, and I didn't explain why the business with the book bothered me so.

"Wow!" Cassie exclaimed. "The way you tell it, it sounds like it really happened to you!"

"It did!" I replied.

"Honey..." Mom began, but I cut her off.

"I can't explain it," I said, "but I refuse to believe that it was all a dream! I learned things! I did things! I went places and met people!"

"Imaginary people," Mom put in.

"No!" I said. "Real people! As real as you and me!"

Mom didn't answer. She bit her tongue as I sat steaming. My heart was racing, and I felt a little feverish again. I took a few breaths to try to calm down, and then a few sips of broth. I sniffed and looked at them both.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just can't understand... it wasn't a dream... I'm sure it wasn't."

Mom nodded and shrugged. I think she put my outburst down to my being sick.

Cassie tried to gloss over it by asking, "Marcie, your mother said you might feel up to taking a walk with me. You can show me the sights."

I thought for an instant about the reporters outside. Then I remembered that they'd all gone. I made a mental note to ask Ms. Gifford what had happened, why they'd gone. Or I could just wait and see if my father knew... But for right now, it would be good to get some air... to get out of the house.

"Yes," I said. "It would be nice. I need to get out and move a little bit. I'm kind of achy from spending all that time in bed."

"Okay, good," Cassie replied. She reached over and covered my hand with hers. "I'm really happy I could come up and see you."

"I'm happy to see you, too," I replied, feeling a bit bashful and awkward. I liked Cassie, but usually she was such an incredible tease. Now that she was being so nice, I felt a bit strange, as if the ground had shifted. Still, it was much better this way.

"You know, my brother was an idiot to let you go," she went on. "I liked having you in the family." She laughed and looked at my mother. "Maybe we should set up a trade: you Donners could take Jerry, and my family will take Marcie."

"Hmm," my mother said in a mock-serious tone. "I'll have to talk that over with my husband. Can I get back to you on that?"

"Why certainly," Cassie replied, and the two of them laughed as if it were the greatest joke in the world.

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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