I'm pretty sure today must be a Wednesday. I say this because I've never really got on with Wednesdays.

Relationship break-up's? Always seem to happen on a Wednesday.

Evenings that my mother calls to tell me she's not getting any younger and she'd really like to see some grandkids? Wednesday evenings.

Mornings when I spill juice down my blouse when getting ready to go to work - yup, you guessed it - Wednesday mornings.

And right here, right now - the day that I encounter the lamest supervillain in existence? Yay me, Wednesday.

Chapter 1: Sam.

I woke up with a jolt as my nightmares came to a crescendo. My hand's what did it. The kick of the gun as I fired back killing in my nightmare it's like a phantom limb effect as it twitched with the remembered kick of my Browning 9mm. It's scary, and I stare at that hand once my brain figures out where I'm at. I can still sort of see the face of one of the Afghani Taliban members who had tried to kill me while I was traveling in a convoy with a unit of US soldiers. The wind had come up and blown away his face scarf. He was twelve, thirteen, fourteen years or so at the oldest. I killed a kid. It was a bad ambush and it was self defense …but I still killed a kid.

Laurie gives a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“This was supposed to be an easy summer job,” she reminds me. “Just collect data and let the big folks do the analysis and all the hard work. Things have sure changed.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe we should ask for a raise––”

Chapter 39: Choice

Rachel and I wept when we saw her, standing tall and green and lit up.

I had seen the Statue of Liberty once before. We passed her on the Mauretania on our way to Europe a month before.

Dreaming of Cheers Standing Up to Life: Book 3 Part 18 of 23 by Tiffany Shar

Intro by Carla Ann

“Tiffany, I’ve asked you how everything is going with people and the activities you’re involved in, but you haven’t mentioned how you are coping with everything.” She emphasized the ‘you,’ when she asked that.

“Well, better than I was last year,” I started. “Way better than last year… I have a lot of friends now, and I’m not getting picked on every day.” I saw her eyes boring into me looking for something else. “Alright, I don’t know how I’m doing right now.” I told her honestly.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Well for one I’m really tired of everyone guessing I’m five if I wear the wrong clothes.” I told her hesitantly. I was sure my parents had filled her in with everything anyway, “Tuesday was pajama day. Mom and I had found some cute pajamas with feet on them that would fit Amy and me, so we wore them for pajama day. We really did look cute dressed like that, and I was having a lot of fun with it. That was until the sub in English class thought that I was someone’s little sister that had come them to school that day.”

I was really surprised Dr. Reynolds didn’t laugh about it, but I continued, “Then the next day the whole squad was wearing shortalls and our hair done in pigtails and I looked to be about five again. One of my best friends even brought a doll to school to play a joke on the sub that we’d had. I don’t think she knew that it really upset me though. I’m not five, I’m twelve! Amy has grown about five inches here in the last couple months, but I’m still the same height I was last year. It’s good for cheerleading stuff because people can toss me so easily… but…” I was doing my best to not go into tears over all of this. “as long as we’ve got my puberty stopped then I won’t be doing much growing. That’s all on top of the fact that I’m never going to be able to have periods like my friends… and I’m stuck with this stupid thing between my legs,” I told her with a great deal of exasperation. “I’m so tired of having to look at it, or hide it, every time I turn around. I know you can’t do anything about it till I’m eighteen – but I wish it could be gone now!” I had gone to tears now.

This Chapter deals with some surprising revelations about the Residency Warden Sally.
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Martina’s Story 9.

Myself. Martina, A sexually dysphoric child whose sexuality has not
yet been ascertained but who chooses to present as a girl.

Beverly My adoptive ‘aunt’ who is a mature she-male and my most supportive adult friend.

Chenille My older half sister.

Rachel squeezed my hand when we saw a girl a couple of years younger than we were united with her family.

"You'll be reunited with your mom and sisters, too," Rachel said reassuringly.

I nodded. But I also had to fight back the tears.

START THE RAIN