Posting this story is ... an act of defiance. It's a refusal to hide what I've hidden from others, as well as myself. But it's a dark story. So please, please, be careful. If you think reading about bad things happening to someone might hurt or harm you in any way, the please don't read this.

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My heartbeat quickened when she turned off the light.

It was dark. I couldn't be in the dark. I had to escape, because there was ... something about the dark I couldn't name, but needed to escape from. I tried to find my way to where I thought the door was, but she was holding my hand, and I couldn't reach the door.

She told me it would be okay. I tried to believe her, because I loved her, and I knew she wouldn't let anything bad happen. She then said something about turning on a blacklight.

The idea of a blacklight made no sense to me.

Black wasn't the color of light. It was the color of darkness. Like the darkness surrounding me, and closing in on me, until I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I started not being there.

Then ... there was a click.

A purple light lit up a corner of the room. The light was strange, and dim, but it was light. Even though most of the room was still dark, I stopped not being there. Part of what pulled me back was the light. A bigger part of what pulled me back were the pictures.

The magical pictures glowed in a way I'd never seen before. They were colored with bright shades of green, orange, and yellow. For what may have been the first time in years, I had smiled while someplace that was dark.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, staring at the pictures, but eventually, she pulled at my hand ... towards the darker side of the room. She told me it would be okay when I resisted. I wanted to believe it would be okay, but I couldn't be in the dark. I had to not be there.

And so ... I stopped being there.

=-=-=

My cheek stung. She was sitting in front of me. Even though I could see better than before, the light was still too dim to make out her face very well. It seemed to go from anger, to fear, to guilt, and then back to anger. She was yelling at me the way in a way that told me I was bad.

At first, I had no idea why she was so mad. Then ... I found my hands where I knew they shouldn't be. I didn't know why they'd been there. As I pulled them away, I knew, deep down, I was very, very bad.

That's why she was yelling. That's why she kept hitting me.

I was crying as I turned. I ran from the bad. I ran from the dark. I ran towards the blacklight that wasn't black, but purple. I finally found the door I'd been looking for. The light nearly blinded me when I opened the door. It wasn't black light, but white. I left the dark, and the bad, in that room.

I started running. I didn't know why I was running. The bright sunlight had taken away that knowing. I just needed to not be there. I had to get away from the dark, and the ... something else.

I wasn't sure what the something else was. There was a blankness where that was. I stopped trying to push past the blankness, stopped trying to figure out why I had been crying, and just ran.

=-=-=

Some time later, it may have been minutes or months later, I'd been accused of stealing from her. When I said I didn't steal anything, I was accused of lying. I was also warned that I'd be beat worse if I didn't tell the truth.

I was terrified. I didn't want to be beaten, especially for something I didn't remember doing. I also didn't want to admit to something I didn't do. That would be lying, and God hates thieves and liars. I didn't want God to hate me.

And then ... there was a ... someone. And he said the lie I couldn't say. And I was beaten, but not as bad as if he hadn't lied ... or I hadn't lied. But I hadn't lied ... or stolen. Or maybe I did. But whether or not I did either, I knew deep down, I was just ... bad.

This is a dark story. At least, it feels dark to me. Maybe it feels darker than it actually is, because it's something that happened to me. Still ... if reading about bad things happening to people might hurt or harm you in any way, then please don't read this story. This is something I'm writing for my own sanity. It would break my heart if anything I wrote hurt someone. So, if you're not sure you should read this story, then please don't.

Like I said, this is a dark story. It started in a dark room, in a house my family had just moved into. In that room there were three bay windows. Someone tapped on one of those windows. Being curious, I opened the window. Or maybe I was stupid. I was three. What did I know about not opening windows to strangers?

And here, the memory starts to fragment. I have a vague recollection of him coming through the window, and talking to him, and him seeming friendly at first, then ... there's just ... blankness. Next bit of memory I have is being on the mattress on the floor (we had just moved in, and hadn't had time to put the beds together). My hands were pinned above my head. My nose and mouth were covered by a hand. I couldn't breath.

I remember being terrified, but not the exact cause. Maybe it was the not being able to breathe. I remember being told to shut up. After a while of me trying to scream through his hand, he threatened my family. That's when Rage woke up. After a few failed attempts, my teeth found purchase somewhere on the inside of his hand. I bit down hard.

And then ... more blankness. I vaguely remember white hot wrath filling me when I could breathe again. Then ... something happened. Next thing I know, he was gone. I was rolled up in my blankets, screaming for my parents. I think it took a while before I realized one of them was holding me. I think I cried a lot when I did. I also forgot a lot, including Rage.

=-=-=

A few years later, when I was in first grade, I saw someone who had been bullying me for a while. At the far end of the sidewalk, I saw the bully harassing someone, and Rage woke up. A wrath I'd forgotten filled my chest. I ran down the sidewalk, and rammed the bully. Somehow, even though he was bigger than me, I still knocked him down.

Next thing I know I was sitting on his chest. My fingers were dug into his hair. There was a gutteral growl. It was coming from me, even though it felt like it had to be coming from somewhere else. Rage was slamming the back of his head into the sidewalk. Okay ... it was me. But it also wasn't. Or maybe I just want to believe it wasn't.

I was ringed in by kids my own age. They were cheering me on. I could see a hunger in their eyes. Seeing what was in their eyes made my stomach turn. I'm not sure if Rage noticed them or not. I'm not sure what would have happened if someone hadn't physically picked me up off the bully.

And ... you guessed it ... more blankness. I remember being in deep, deep trouble. I think I'd been beaten for beating someone up, but I don't actually remember what happened. It's like I know *something* happened, and vaguely remember being terrified, but nothing specific.

I guess that's all I have the strength to say for now. I'm a little bit surprised I've gotten this far in writing everything out. I've been half expecting to blank out, and find myself somewhere else. I think I'll just stop writing now, and see if I can get away with submitting this, before the blankness comes.

Wish me luck.

Safe
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

While I managed to keep myself relatively safe most of the time when I was growing up, there were only a few places and times when I felt completely safe. Below is a tiny vignette about one of them.

=-=-=

When the recess bell rang, I walked across the lunch room as fast as I could without getting yelled at by a teacher. Once I reached the door, I shoved it open, then sprinted down the sidewalk by the school. When I reached the sports field, I raced across the dusty packed earth and dry patches of grass.

I glanced over my shoulder when I was near the far end of the field, then smiled when I saw nobody was in sight. A moment later, the chain link fence was jangling as I climbed it. When I reached the top, I grabbed the huge branch hanging over the fence, pulled myself up, then shimmied towards a rough wooden platform.

Panting as quietly as I could manage, I laid down on the platform, and looked up at the patches of bright blue sky peaking through the deep green leaves. A light breeze ruffled my hair, and cooled my sweaty t-shirt. Even though I didn't dare to say it out loud, I thought the most special word of all.

Safe.

It wasn't something I felt a lot of the time. At school, I was relatively safe ... at least when there was a teacher nearby. At home, I was mostly safe, so long as I didn't break any rules, and managed to avoid discovering new rules I wasn't allowed to break.

But here, up in the tree, hidden from view by both teachers and other kids, I felt safe. Even though I knew it wouldn't last, I grinned up at the tree, patted the rough bark of one of its branches, and thanked it for giving me a special place, where I could really, truly, feel safe.

While I've written a couple of stories that dealt with suicide, I've never had the nerve to describe my own experience. Until now. Please ... please be careful, before reading this story, and make sure it's something you feel you can handle. Knowing other people are okay is a lot more important to me than knowing this story is read.

=-=-=

It was ... a small cut.

Well, it was relatively small.

But ... it was big enough for me to escape.

When I say me, I don't mean this hunk of flesh people point to when they point to me.

I was talking about the red, fluid me; the real me, hiding in the cage that had been mangled by testosterone.

The cut through which I was escaping had been easier than I'd expected to make.

After shoving the last rack of dishes through the industrial dishwasher, and stacking the last of the plates where the chefs could easily reach them, my boss had asked me to take out the trash. After tossing the trash into the dumpster, one of the bags came open.

Sticking out of that bag was a restaurant size can of tomato puree. The razor sharp top was almost, but not completely removed from the can. Bits of puree were still attached to the top. The bits were red ... like me. That's when a thought occurred to me.

I could make it look like an accident. Work related accidents happen all the time. And then ... then I'd be free.

I was expecting it to hurt more. There was almost no pain at all when I ran my wrist across the can top.

As I started feeling light-headed, I also felt a pang of guilt. I knew, eventually, somebody would see what had happened. And they wouldn't understand I was escaping. And my boss might get in trouble. He was really nice. I didn't want him to get in trouble.

My wrist was slippery when I covered the cut with my hand. I wobbled a bit while walking around the dumpster. I weaved like I was drunk as I wandered towards the back door of the restaurant where I worked. I leaned against the doorframe when I reached it, but didn't have the strength to knock, so I banged on the door with my foot.

I'm not sure what happened next. I know I survived, because I'm here today writing this story. There's still times when I think of escaping, but I know of more options now than I knew then. I'm glad I have those options now. I've decided living in a world where people can see the real me, even with the body I'm stuck in, is better than escaping.

The Hypnosis Game Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

When I was around eight years old, a friend (who was sorta adopted as a cousin) stayed with my family for a few weeks over the summer. We played a lot of games while we she was there, but my favorite was the one where we'd pretend to hypnotize each other.

The game gave us an excuse to do weird or silly stuff. Eventually, a way out of being 'hypnotized' was added to the game. Someone could 'wake up' if they were told to do something like eat a bug, or anything else that felt like too much.

This is the story of what happened when it was my turn to be hypnotized.

=-=-=

"You're gettin' sleepy," Kimmie said while dangling a necklace in front of my eyes. The necklace began swaying as she said, "You're feelin' very, veeeery, sleepy."

I watched the swinging pendant sparkle in the afternoon sunlight for a few seconds before letting my eyelids droop.

My friend smiled, then said, "That's right. Your eyes are gettin' heavy. Very, veeeery, heavy. Ya can haaaardly keep 'em open."

I smiled back, then wondered if that was something hypnotized people did. I decided not to worry about it, since it already happened, and let my eyes close the rest of the way.

One of my sisters giggled, and the other whispered, "It's working."

Someone made a shushing sound, then Kim said, "You oooonly hear my voice. You'll oooonly do what I say. Nod once if ya understand."

I was tempted to shake my head, but thought that might ruin the game, so I nodded instead.

"Veeeery gooood. In a moment, I'm gonna snap my fingers. When I do that, you'll open your eyes, and act normal, but you'll still be under my control. Do ya understand?"

When I nodded again, fingers snapped near one my ears, and my eyes popped open. I gasped when I realized my eyes had opened on their own.

"You okay?" my older sister asked.

"I think so," I said while wondering if I'd actually been hypnotized. A tingle of excitement rippled down my back when I thought about it.

"Whatcha gonna make 'im do?" my younger sister asked.

Kimmie scratched her chin and said, "Well, we gotta test to make sure he's really under, so it'd prolly hafta be somethin' he wouldn't normally do."

All three girls looked deep in thought for a while, then my older sister's eyes opened wide, and she whispered in Kim's ear.

An impish grin stretched across my friends face. Her bright blue eyes twinkled when she took my hand and said, "Follow me."

=-=-=

After closing the door to the guest bedroom, Kimmie let go of my hand and said, "There's somethin' really special I need ya to do for me. Would ya be okay with that?"

"Sure," I said in the dull monotone I imagined hypnotized people used.

"Gooood," she said while patting my arm. "Just stay there while I get something."

"Okay," I said, then watched her root through a couple of dresser drawers.

A minute or so later, she brought a small handful of clothes and said, "I'd like ya to change into these shorts and shirt."

My heart started thumping. "Ya want me to ... to ... wear your clothes?"

The impish grin showed up again, but there was a gentleness to her voice when she said, "Like I said, this is somethin' very special I'd like ya to do for me."

Icy needles ran up my hands and arms when I realized my friend was serious. I almost decided to 'wake up', but the offer was way too tempting. Besides, I was hypnotized, so I had to do what I was told ... didn't I?

"Wait!" Kim shouted when I started pulling my shirt up. In a more normal voice, she said, "Let me go out first. Once you've changed, ya can come out and show me. Okay?"

I tried to answer, but nothing came out, so I just nodded.

My friend studied me for a long moment, then gave me a lopsided smile before setting the clothes on the bed.

Once Kimmie had left the room and closed the door, I spread the clothes out on the bed. There was a light blue t-shirt with skinny white stripes, and blue denim shorts. Except for the sleeves being a little short, the shirt looked like something a boy could wear, and the shorts didn't look much different from what I already had on.

After taking in a deep breath, I pulled off my shirt. Even though it was a warm day, I started shivering when I slipped on my friend's shirt. It was a little stretchier, and a lot softer, than what I'd been wearing. It didn't look especially girly on me, even though it was a girl's shirt.

I was having trouble taking off my shorts until the idea to take off my sneakers made it through my muddled thoughts. When I pulled on Kim's shorts, they felt ... different. It took some adjusting of different bits before her shorts felt right on me.

After getting my sneakers back on, I shuffled across the bedroom on numb legs. On the other side of the door, my friend and sisters were waiting for me. My hand was slippery with sweat when I reached for the doorknob.

I started worrying how they would react when they saw what I was wearing. But ... this was my one chance to dress how I'd always wanted. Plus, I had the excuse of being hypnotized, if anybody had anything to say about me wearing girl clothes.

Would everything really go okay? I decided there was only one way to find out, and opened the door.

After posting a couple of pretty dark memories, I thought it might be nice to share something lighter, so I rooted through what bits I could remember, until I came across a particularly special memory. Even now, I still smile, while thinking of this moment. :)

The Nurse's Office
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

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I sometimes wonder if the person who thought it was a good idea to pave a school playground with the same material used to pave roads didn't like children very much. Or maybe they just didn't like clumsy children ... like me.

I'm not sure if I'd been tripped, or if I'd stumbled over my own feet, but however it happened, I'd been sprawled out on my stomach in the middle of the playground, and bawling my eyes out. Eventually, someone helped me up, and led me into the school.

By the time we reached the nurse's office, I'd mostly cried myself out, and was just sniffling when I was introduced to the school nurse. I flinched when she reached for my hand, but she was careful to not touch my scraped palms, and I relaxed a bit.

I don't remember exactly what she said to me, but her voice was soft and comforting while she led me by the wrist to a bed. After sitting me down, she opened a foil package, pulled out a folded cloth, then gently wiped away the dirt and grit.

Once she was done cleaning my hands, she stood up, and started pulling a curtain around the bed. When I asked her why she was doing that, she said, "I'm going to need you to remove your blouse so I can take care of your elbow."

I was pretty confused at first. I looked down, just to make sure, but I still had on the same shirt I'd put on in the morning. The left arm had a hole in it from when I fell on my elbow, but it was the arm of a shirt, not a blouse.

Then it hit me. She knew. Somehow, without me saying anything, she saw I was really a girl. She was pulling the curtain around, so nobody who wandered into the office would see me topless.

I felt giddy, and grinned like a lunatic, when a weight I'd forgotten I was carrying was lifted from me. Someone finally saw what I'd been trying to explain to my parents. It had taken a complete stranger to see the truth.

If I could have, I would have never have left the nurse's office again.

I was re-reading this story, when I started noticing how many characters I had introduced in it. To make things a little easier to keep track of everyone, I decided to create the list below. I know it's been a pretty long time since I originally posted this story, so there probably won't be a lotta folk using this list, but I do see a few hits on a pretty regular basis, so I decided to post the list anyway. If you have any questions, please feel free to comment below, or send me a private message. Thank you! :)

Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

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Brighton Family

Bobby (Robert) Brighton Jr - main character of Bobby's Rainy Day Adventure/ 10 years old (5th grader/started kindergarten at 5)/is very short for a boy his age/has hazel eyes & straight reddish brown hair

Irene Brighton - Bobby's mom / has hazel eyes & black hair in loose curls

Robert Brighton Sr - Bobby's father

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Moreno Family

Cori (Corina) Moreno - Bobby's neighbor / 10 years old (4th grader/started kindergarten at 6)/has blue eyes & wavy golden blonde hair

Terri (Theresa) Anne Moreno - Corina's sister / 14 years old (8th grader)/ has golden brown eyes

"Aunt" Joan Moreno -Corina's & Terri's mom

=-=-=

Wilton Family

Cassie (Cassandra) Louise Wilton - Bobby's cousin

Marie Wilton - Bobby's aunt

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School Friends

Rhi (Rhianna) - had lunch with Bobby/9 years old (3rd grader)/has long waves of coppery-red hair and freckles

Tess - had lunch with Bobby/9 years old (3rd grader)/has short black hair and cinnamon-colored skin

=-=-=

Others
Mae - intake nurse/heavy set woman/has dark brown skin and golden hair in a tight bun/used to carpool with Joan

Henry - Mae's supervisor/Joan's former supervisor

Lilian Chung - doctor who examined Bobby's sprained ankle/received help from Joan when she changed her name

Carrol - 7th floor nurse

Anna - someone Cori knows from GoodNites website

Officer Hernandez - police officer

Marcia - Terri's friend (girlfriend?)

In this chapter, Bobby is invited to Cori's sleepover and semi-officially acquires some new pronouns. We also learn a bit more about Bobby's father and get a little more insight into how he and his child feel about each other.

Bobby's Rainy Day Adventure
Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown

CHAPTER XI

I spent the rest of the morning on the couch with my sprained ankle propped up on pillows and my legs covered by a warm, brightly colored quilt. I couldn't find anything interesting on TV, so I started reading through a pile of manga comic books Cori said I could borrow. I'd never given manga a second look up until then, assuming all comic books were just about superheroes fighting supervillains, which got old pretty fast after a while.

I felt like I could really connect better with the characters I was reading about in Cori's manga collection. There were still heroes and villains in some of them and lots of them had magic and things you don't usually see in real life, but it all felt different somehow. By the time I could smell Aunt Joan cooking grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, I had read through nearly everything Aunt Joan could find in Cori's room.

After lunch, I started playing some of the games Cori and Terri had for their PlayStation. Being up late last night was catching up with me. I kept on yawning and was finding it hard to keep my eyes open as I played. The latest game had turned pretty weird. I was in the middle of trying to wriggle a virtual pit bull puppy into a frilly baby dress when the game controller slipped from my fingers.

I'd been searching around the couch and under the quilt when I heard a deep voices ask, "You looking for this?"

I dropped the quilt and turned to see my father standing beside me; the controller dangled from his right hand. I couldn't decide if I was more shocked to see him there, or to see him wearing a white, silky looking shirt under a dark green jacket and a matching skirt. "Dad, what are you doing here . . . wearing that?"

"A better question is, what are you doing wearing that?" My father poked me in the middle of my chest with a long, pink fingernail.

I followed his finger to where it was digging sharply into my skin and saw the top of a pink dress. "I . . . I have no idea how I got into this. I just changed into boy clothes a little while ago."

My father grabbed me by my shoulders and yanked me from under the covers until I was standing on the couch in front of him. "Stop lying!"

My upper arms ached where he had taken a death grip on them. I tried to lift my hands to push him away, but they wouldn't move. I tried kicking, but my legs barely had the strength to keep me standing. "Lemme go! I didn't do nothing."

He seemed to turn huge when he leaned in closer to me and his sour breath made me want to gag. "You need to wake up and face reality."

I tried to keep my head from flopping back and forth when he started shaking me. "You have to wake up!"

"Stop, you're hurting me!"

My father either didn't understand or didn't care. "You're lying to your friends. You're lying to your family. Worst of all, you're lying to yourself!"

I was starting to feel dizzy from being shaken and the smell of his breath. The only thing I could manage to say was, "Huh?"

"You have to wake up, Bobby. You're a boy, not a girl. You always have been. You always will be."

The world started spinning. I could hardly breathe. The pain in my arms faded as everything turned dark.

* * * * *

"Wake up, Bobby."

I tried to turn towards the sound of the new voice, but something thick, damp, and stinking of sweat covered my face. I took in a huge gulp of cool air when it was pulled away and squinted as my eyes adjusted to the bright afternoon light coming through a nearby window. "Aunt Joan?"

"That's right, sweetheart. I heard you yelling in your sleep when I was on the phone." She sat beside me on the edge of the couch, untangled me from the cover wrapped around my arms and legs, and helped me sit up. "You okay now?

"I feel kinda wiped out, but not as bad as last night. I don't remember falling asleep. It still feels like my father was just here in the living room."

Aunt Joan smiled and ruffled the top of my hair. "You drifted off a little after lunch and slept through most of the afternoon. Your father hasn't been here since he brought the police officer to our front door early this morning. With the way he was acting then, I would have never let him in the house." She brushed my hair out of my eyes and her smile softened. "Did you want to tell me about the dream?"

"It started out pretty weird, especially when I saw my father wearing a dress."

Aunt Joan's eyebrows popped up. "You saw your daddy in a dress? What did it look like?"

"No, not my daddy, my father." Normally I wouldn't talk back like that, but I was still feeling upset by the dream and not really thinking of how rude I sounded.

Aunt Joan frowned and looked like she was going to say something. Instead, she sighed and said, "Okay, what did your father look like?"

Parts of the dream were already fading, but I did my best to tell her what I remembered. By the time I was done, her eyes looked like a pair of ping-pong balls that wanted to pop out of her head. "How in the world would you remember . . . I mean, you were only two when--"

The front door slammed closed and Cori shouted from the bottom of the steps. "I'm home, Mom!"

Aunt Joan turned and shouted back, "We're in the living room, honey. Don't forget to take off your softball cleats." There was the sound of grumbling and something clattering to the floor by the front door as Aunt Joan turned to me and brushed my cheek with the back of her fingers. "We can talk about this later."

After something else clattered to the floor, Cori thumped up the steps. Both legs of the dark blue pants she was wearing and spots on the white shirt with blue sleeves were splattered with dried mud. With her hair tucked under a baseball cap and not a bit of anything frilly showing anywhere, I almost didn't recognize her until she spoke. "Hi Mom! Hi Bobby! How's your foot doing?"

I tried moving my sprained ankle around under the comforter. It still felt a little sore, but the sharp pain was gone. "It's a lot better. I guess taking the day off from school must have helped."

"Oh, that reminds me. Tess and Rhiana were asking about you at school. I really wasn't sure how much to tell them, so I just said you were staying home 'cause you'd hurt your foot and they could ask you more at the sleepover." Cori's fingers squirmed in her folded hands as she turned from me to her mom. "I hope that was okay."

Aunt Joan only took a moment to think before she nodded. "So long as Bobby is okay with it, then it's fine with me."

Cori nearly choked her mom with a hug while somehow managing not to get any mud on her. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She pulled one of her arms away from her mom's neck and took my hand. "Oh Bobby, this is gonna be so fun!"

Aunt Joan pulled Cori's other arm from around her neck and held her daughter's hand. "I think you're jumping the gun, honey. She hasn't even said if she wants to join the sleepover."

"She?" Cori's glance bounced between me and her mom. "She who?"

For a moment, Aunt Joan seemed at a loss for words. " I guess I jumped the gun too." She wrapped her arm across my shoulders. "Bobby, how would you like us to refer to you?"

Cori tilted her head to the side. "Do you wanna be a girl?"

My heart thumped in my chest. I could barely breathe. It was a choice I would have never imagined getting a week ago, and now the words I was aching to say were stuck in my throat. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, willing the tightness to go away. I took in a deeper breath and noticed the scents of mud, grass, and dandelions. When I opened my eyes, I found Cori crouched down in front of me, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Bobby? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just. . . ."

Aunt Joan gently squeezed my shoulder. "Sweetheart, you don't have to answer if you're not sure or just not ready."

"But I want to." I looked back and forth between the two of them. The sound of my heart beating was loud in my ears. I looked down and rubbed my sweaty hands on the part of the comforter covering my legs. "If it wouldn't feel too weird, I'd . . . I'd really like to be referred to as a girl. Would that be okay?"

Aunt Joan kissed the top of my head. "Of course it would be okay. "

Cori squeezed my hand. "It'd be lots easier for me. I can't tell you how many times I'd almost slipped and called you a girl yesterday. If your mom hadn't introduced you as her son at church, I probably would have assumed you were a girl at school just like everyone else."

"Which everyone else?"

The phone rang just as Cori started to answer. Both she and her mom reached for the phone, but Aunt Joan was closer and a tiny bit faster.

"Hello? . . . Oh hi! Is everything okay? . . . Ah, that's good."

Cori whispered, "Who is it?"

Aunt Joan mouthed the word, "Terri."

"What was that, honey? . . . Oh, that was so sweet of her to invite you over. Does her mother know? . . . I see. Will there be any other girls? . . . And what about boys? . . . Okay, that sounds all right. It looks like both of my girls will be at sleepovers tonight. When you get there, I want you to give me a call and ask her mother to talk to me. . . . You're welcome, hon. Just don't forget to call me. . . . I love you too."

Aunt Joan was smiling absently as she hung up the phone. "It looks Terri will be staying at Marcia's tonight?"

Cori giggled. "You mean she's staying at her girlfriend's house?"

Her mom gave her a sharp look. "You know your sister doesn't like you teasing her like that."

"But it's true, Mom. You should see how they are together when Marcia comes over."

"Really? What have they been doing?"

"Well, I ain't seen them doing any kissy mushy stuff. But the way they look at each other, you can tell they like each other."

Aunt Joan nodded and sighed. "I've seen it too and talked to her about it. She still insists they're just friends. Until she says differently, I want you to respect how she feels."

Cori frowned and seemed to think for a minute. a playful grin spread across her face. "I guess I can do that. I don't want her getting mad at me and saying I can't be a bridesmaid at the wedding."

"You are just impossible." I froze when Aunt Joan swatted at Cori's butt. At first I thought she was going to be spanked, but Aunt Joan was smiling and Cori just eeped and giggled. "Now I want you to head down stairs, throw your uniform in the washer and wash what you can in the sink down there. I'll get a bath started for you in a few minutes."

* * * * *

Aunt Joan seemed to be lost in thought after Cori headed downstairs and I had to tug on her sleeve to get her attention.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Should I get changed for the sleepover?"

"Oh you won't need to change into pajamas until later tonight."

I looked down at my t-shirt and jeans. Even though they had been washed last night and I couldn't see any stains from falling in the mud yesterday, they still looked frumpled and the sweat from falling asleep rolled up in the covers was still making my shirt stick to my ribs. "Do you think what I'm wearing will be okay until then?"

Aunt Joan pushed a few strands of my hair over my left ear and smiled softly. "I'm sure Cori has something you could borrow." She turned away from me and shouted, "Cori, could you come back here a second?"

The distant sound of running water I hadn't noticed before stopped, then Cori came thumping up the steps . . . naked from the waist up. She was rubbing at the mud on her forearm with a damp washcloth when she walked towards us. "Did ya need me for something, Mom?"

"Yes, would it be okay if Bobby borrowed some clothes to change into before our guests arrive?"

"Sure thing. She really took care of what she'd borrowed last night, especially considering how she'd slipped into that pothole last night."

I was too shocked to do anything but stare as they talked. It wasn't as if she had anything more than I did. I'd just never seen a girl, or really anyone else except for my father, topless before. I could feel my cheeks starting to burn as I squeezed my eyes shut. "Uh, Cori?"

"What's wrong, Bobby?"

"Err . . ."

Aunt Joan came to my rescue. "I think she's embarrassed, baby. You really shouldn't be wandering around without a top on."

"But I thought she was a girl."

"Being a girl doesn't stop someone from being shy."

"Oh wow . . . I'm sorry, Bobby."

I opened my eyes and made myself look again. When I ignored the curly ponytail at the back of her head and the way she was standing, I realized she didn't look all that different from a boy. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I don't know why I'm acting so silly."

Aunt Joan held my hand and patted it a few times. "You're not being silly at all." She looked up at Cori and said, "Go ahead and finish cleaning up downstairs. I'll come down to get you when I've got your bath ready."

Looking a bit confused, Cori answered with a nod and a smile before hopping back down the stairs. After she was out of sight, her mom turned to me and squeezed my hand. "I guess things may get a little more complicated than I'd expected. If you feel at all uncomfortable joining the sleepover tonight, it's okay to change your mind."

"You think I shouldn't be there with the other girls?"

Aunt Joan pulled me into a warm hug. "Oh no, sweetie. I didn't mean that at all." She pulled back a little and looked down at me. "I just know girls tend to be treated differently than boys, and I'm worried you might feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable or something."

"Oh, I hadn't really thought about that. I do feel a little nervous not knowing exactly what might happen, but it's not like a scary nervous. It's more like the nervous I felt the first time I decided to try riding my bike without training wheels."

* * * * *

I thought back to that special time. It had been about a month after my seventh birthday. Even with my father holding onto the back of the bike, it still wobbled as I climbed on. I almost chickened out, but just couldn't when I turned and saw his proud smile.

My legs were shaking when we started moving and it took me a couple of tries before I was able to pedal without my feet slipping off. When we were about halfway down the sidewalk, I noticed the sharp smell of my fathers aftershave as he leaned close to my ear and whispered, "You can do it."

Without looking back, I could tell he had let go. I was finding it hard to keep my front wheel straight and my stomach started doing flip-flops. "Keep pedaling," my father shouted from what felt too far off. I began pumping harder, and found it was getting easier to steer. "Good job! Now stop and come back."

That's about when I started to panic. I had started going downhill and was picking up speed without pedaling. The end of the sidewalk and the intersection beyond was coming up too fast and I had started screaming for help. The sound of my father's boots thumping behind and hearing him shouting had only made me more afraid. My shaking, sweaty hands could barely hold onto the handlebars. I was almost at the corner when I realized he had been telling me to hit the brakes.

By the time I'd been able to get my legs to move in the right direction to get the coaster brake to work, I had already popped over the curb and was in the intersection. The sound of screeching brakes filled my ears before I was hit from behind. A small part of me had wondered why I hadn't been hit from the side. The rest of me couldn't think of anything else to do except scream.

By the time I'd stopped rolling, my throat felt raw. Everything still looked like it was spinning when I'd opened my eyes, but I could make out my father looking down at me. "Daddy?"

His voice was gentle, barely above a whisper. "Yes pumpkin?"

At the time, I hadn't realized it had been years since he had called me that. I just knew someone I'd never thought I'd see again had replaced the person my father had become. The world stopped spinning right about then and I realized his forehead was bleeding. I reached up and touched his rough cheek. "How'd you get hurt?"

His smile had felt like the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a storm. "It's been a long time since I've tried doing gymnastics. After I dived for you and grabbed you off the bike, I tried to tuck and roll. It wasn't as graceful a landing as I was hoping, but it could have been worse."

"How could it have been worse?"

I had been so shocked to see a tear roll down his cheek before he had pulled me close. "I could have lost you."

* * * * *

Tears were stinging my eyes as Aunt Joan pulled me onto her lap. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I just miss him."

"Who do you miss? Your father?"

"No . . . my daddy."

While getting ready to meet with two girls from school who've been invited to Cori's sleep-over, Bobby gets a call from the hospital, talk to her mom, and learns a bit about both her parents as well as her part in their divorce. Worried about being accepted, Bobby braces herself to meet Rhianna and Tess, and discovers what kinds of friends they can be.

Bobby's Rainy Day Adventure - Chapter XII

Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown

I couldn't stop staring at the girl in the mirror.

It was still hard to believe I was looking at myself. It wasn't as if this was the first time I'd seen a girl in the mirror, but it was still weird just the same. It hadn't been too long ago I'd been in my boy clothes and I'd still seen a girl. I didn't look that much different in the clothes I'd borrowed from Cori. Just a little more relaxed. Maybe even a little happier.

Aunt Joan had helped me look through Cori's closet and explained the funny looking overalls I'd picked out were called shortalls and that they were lavender, not purple. I was a little confused at first about the lavender, since I thought it just meant the soft, flowery smell of the bubble bath I'd used late last night.

Instead of getting annoyed with me for asking a dumb question, Aunt Joan stopped what she was doing and explained how lavender could mean more than one thing, just like the word orange could mean a color or piece of fruit. Once I was able to explain in my own words what she had told me, she gave me a quick hug before gathering up some shoes and clean underwear for me. After handing over everything I would need to get changed, she found some clothes for Cori to change into after her bath before she left me alone in my friends bedroom.

I adjusted the left strap of the shortalls so it would stop slipping from my shoulder. The soft, almost silky, short-sleeved, white cotton shirt felt nice under the rougher corduroy of the shortalls. No, not a shirt. Aunt Joan had said it was called a . . . blouse. I touched the plastic, flower-shaped buttons running down the front. It had been a little funny doing them up on the wrong side, but it wasn't really all that hard. I couldn't remember if girls did them all the way up, but decided to leave them, since I liked the way the blouse looked with all the buttons closed.

I sorta hop-stepped back a couple times until I could see the white anklets and lavender sneakers in the mirror and wondered if all girls matched up their shoes with their clothes like this. Was Cori unusual for liking the kinds of clothes she wore? I was finding I really liked the very girly look. Did that mean I was I a girl like Cori? Was I a girl? Could it really be as easy as deciding I was a girl to become one? Had I ever not been a girl?

I swung my head from side to side to shake the dizzy feeling I was getting from all the questions swirling around in my head and giggled at the way the swaying pigtails tickled my ears. I was so glad I had convinced Aunt Joan to help me fix my hair before she left. The scent of the strawberry shampoo I'd used last night (or early this morning?) was faint, but still noticeable as the pigtails bounced around my head.

I'd pulled the crutch (which Aunt Joan had insisted I still needed to keep using) away from the wall and was swinging my way towards the bedroom door when I heard a familiar knocking. "Sweetie, is it okay if we come in, or are you still changing?"

Something seemed to flutter in my stomach and my knees felt wobbly. "Tess and Rhianna got here already?" Even though Cori seemed positive they'd assumed I was a girl, I still wasn't sure how ready I was to have someone from school see me dressed like this.

"No, they won't be here for a little while yet. When I said we, I actually meant me and someone on the phone who would very much like to talk to you."

"Oh, umm, come on in. I'm all done changing." Talking to someone on the phone sounded a lot less scary than meeting Cori's friends face to face and the nervousness in my stomach calmed a little.

Aunt Joan was holding a phone to her ear as she walked into the bedroom. "Oh Irene, you should see her. She looks adorable in the outfit she picked out."

It took a second before I realized who she wast talking to. "Mom! Oh, can I talk to her please?" Without waiting for an answer, I hobbled towards Aunt Joan in a rush. I must have swung the crutch a little too wide. Without warning, it had slipped out from under my arm and I was falling sideways.

The next thing I knew, the phone was bouncing on the thickly padded bedroom rug and Aunt Joan was down on one knee, holding me in her arms. As she lifted me up and started to carry me to Cori's bed, I heard a tinny voice shouting. "Joan? Bobby? Anybody? What's going on?"

"Mom, is that you?" I was too far away to make out what the voice on the phone said as Aunt Joan sat me down on the edge of the bed, but I was sure now I knew who it was and that she sounded worried.

After checking my ankle to make sure I hadn't hurt it again, Aunt Joan scooped the phone off the floor. "Irene? . . . Yes, everything is okay. She just got a little excited when I was bringing you to her and fell. . . . Oh no. I checked and everything looks fine. She does seem anxious to speak to you, though. . . . Of course. . . . No need to thank me. It's what best friends do." Her chuckle was warm and playful. "Okay, you're welcome. . . . Sure, here she is."

After handing the phone to me, Aunt Joan tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her. "Mom? Is everything okay?"

Hearing my mother's gentle laughter melted away the last bit of worry I was feeling. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. Is your ankle feeling any better?"

"Oh yeah. Aunt Joan kept me home and made me keep my foot up all day. Most of the aching is gone now. I can even walk on it a little."

"That's so good to hear. Now I know it's tempting, but I want you to promise me you won't try putting any weight on that foot for a while and keep on using the crutch Joan's let you borrow."

I wanted to argue that I really wasn't all that bad off, but I didn't want to make her any more worried than she already sounded. "Okay, I promise."

"That includes the sleep-over. So no jumping, dancing, running, or anything like that when you're playing with your friends, and no walking anywhere without the crutch."

"How'd you find out about the sleep-over?"

"You're avoiding answering me." Mom sounded a little more serious, but there was still a bit of a smile in her voice.

"Okay, I promise not to do any of them things at the sleep-over. But how'd you find out about it?"

"This afternoon, after the hospital staff were done poking and prodding and running me through all kinds of tests, I called Joan to find out how you were doing. She told me about the sleep-over Cori was planning and asked me how I felt about you joining it."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Of course I am, Pumpkin. I've raised you as a good b-- err, girl, and I know you'll behave yourself."

"Were you gonna say boy?"

The faint crackle of static filled a few seconds of silence. "Yes, Bobby."

Cold dread washed through me and the phone felt like it was just about ready to slip out of my sweaty hand. "So, you see me like a boy . . . like a sissy who wears girls clothes?"

"No, Pumpkin." There were a few more seconds of silence. "Actually, that's not entirely true. When you were first born, I thought of you as my son. As you grew older and I saw your personality developing, I realized you were a bit different from most boys. I believe your father saw the same thing as well."

"Is that why he freaked out at my fifth birthday party?"

The sadness in Mom's sigh made my heart ache. "I'd say that was part of it, but it seems it was also somethings from his past that set him off. Once I'd gotten you to sleep that night, I had a long talk with him and found out about some things that had happened to him a long while ago."

"What kinda things?"

"Just . . . just some very bad things that went on for a very long time. It didn't excuse what he did to you. If I had thought for a second he wouldn't keep his promise about never letting it happen again, I would have left him that night."

"You would have left him because of me?"

"Yes . . . no. What I mean is, I would have left him because of what he did. He was responsible for his own actions, not you. And just in case you were wondering, he was also responsible for his own choice in leaving a few months ago."

"But, I'd told him I didn't wanna get my hair cut."

"Which had nothing to do with him leaving. Your father and I breaking up had been a long time coming. He just happened to choose that night to leave."

I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to absorb what I'd learned while questions floated around in my head. What was it that had changed my father? What had happened to him that was so awful that my mom wouldn't tell me? Was I really not responsible for my parents breaking up? It was still hard to believe, but my mom seemed pretty sure I wasn't. Eventually, the sound of Mom's voice broke through my thoughts. "What was that?"

"I was just asking if you were still there."

"Yeah. Just thinking a lot and trying to figure stuff out."

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin. Talking over the phone about things like this probably isn't the best idea. Think you'd be up to a real talk when I get home from the hospital?"

The sadness and confusion I'd been feeling was almost completely overridden by the excitement of being able to have my mom back home again. "Oh, that sounds great! When ya gonna get outta the hospital?"

"Well, my nurse came in a few minutes ago to take me to the last of my tests for today."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep ya on the phone so long."

"It's okay. When he'd dropped me off from the last test, I'd told him I was going to try reaching my daughter this afternoon and he's been very understanding. If everything goes well with this and the other tests I've taken today, they may be letting me out as early as tomorrow afternoon."

My heart was bubbling over with happiness. Not only did my mom seem to accept me as her daughter, but she didn't seem to have any problems referring to me as one with other people as well. Topping that off with having her back home . . . I really couldn't have felt any happier. "Wow, that sounds great! I can't wait to see ya again."

"Same here, Pumpkin. I can't tell you how much I've missed your sweet smile."

I felt a little worried when I heard her sniffling. "Everything all right? You sound like you're crying."

"I'm fine. These are happy tears."

On the one hand, the idea of happy tears didn't make sense. On the other hand, I was happier than I'd felt in ages, but there was a tear trickling down my cheek. "I love you, Mommy." The old name had slipped out again, but it felt right, so I didn't worry about it.

"I love you too, Bobby. Now I want you to be a good girl for Joan and try not to stay up too late tonight at the sleep-over. Joan had said she planned on driving you and the other girls to school tomorrow before going to work and I don't want you to make her late because you can't wake up. Can you do that for me?"

"I will. I promise."

I hadn't been sitting on the bed for more than a few minutes after I hung up before I heard Cori's shouting, closely followed by the rumble of what must have been her thumping down the steps, then the excited sound of new voices. I pulled a fluffy tissue from the fuzzy pink box on the night stand, then dabbed at my tears and blew my nose before standing with the help of the crutch and bracing myself for the new arrivals before heading out the bedroom door.

* * *

I had just come out of the hallway and looked down the steps to watch the hug-fest. I smiled when I saw a girl with short black hair and cinnamon-colored skin gasp as Cori squeezed her tight and another girl with long waves of coppery-red hair and a face full of freckles squealed when Aunt Joan picked her up and wrapped her in a warm bear hug.

The second girl, who I quickly recognized as Rhiana, seemed to notice me first, but it was the first girl, Tess, who shouted, "Bobby!"

When Rhiana squirmed out of Aunt Joan's arms, she ran up the steps and gave me a huge hug. "It's so good to see ya again, Bobby. Everybody at recess was askin' about you."

Once Cori let her go, Tess lightly bounced up the steps two at a time and hugged me too. "I'm glad to see ya too. Rumor had started going around you'd been in a bad car accident."

Not one to be left out, Cori thumped up the steps and joined in the group hug. "I dunno how the rumor got started, but I'm glad ya didn't get in a car accident yesterday."

I turned to Cori, not sure if I was ready for the answer, but still needing to ask. "Had you told people who'd been in the accident?"

"Oh no. That's one of the things I figured you wanna let people know if you was up to letting them know."

Rhianna gasped. "Who'd been in an accident?"

Tess rolled her eyes before glaring at her friend. "Hey! You know better than asking questions like that."

I reached out and did my best to hug all three girls. "It's okay. I don't mind telling ya's so long as ya don't tell nobody else."

Rhianna's embarrassed expression relaxed a bit. "Of course. I won't tell anyone else. Promise." The other two girls nodded in agreement and added their promises.

"Actually, it was my mom who'd been in an accident."

It was Tess's turn to gasp. "Oh god! That musta been awful!"

Rhianna squeezed my shoulder. "You poor girl. I'm so sorry to hear that. If it ain't too personal . . . how's she doing?"

I took in a deep breath. "She's doing better now. But when I first saw her. . . ." I thought back to the other night when I first saw my mom in a hospital bed. I thought of all the tubes and wires coming out of her. All the emotions I felt then, all the fear I'd tried to push down on the way to the hospital, everything just came back in a rush. Without a word, all three girls closed in and held me as I started crying.

When I was more or less back to my normal self, I felt a new hand on my shoulder. I looked behind me and saw Aunt Joan smiling gently and holding a box of tissues. She pulled one out and held it up to my nose. "Go ahead and blow your nose, sweetie."

Cori, Tess, and Rhianna all made their own versions of honking noises as I blew my nose, which started me giggling. The others joined in, and even Aunt Joan chuckled. "Okay girls. It's time to get started on the pizza's if you want anything to eat during the sleep-over. Who wants to help?"

All four of us said, "me," at exactly the same time, which started everyone laughing again as we followed Aunt Joan into the kitchen.

In this chapter, Bobby has fun with Cori, Tess, and Rhianna at the slumber party. Everything seems to be going fine ... until someone walks in on Bobby while she's getting changed for bed. Will anything ever be the same for her again? Read on and find out!

Bobby's Rainy Day Adventure - Chapter XIII
Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Even though we were in Cori's living room, it almost felt like a camping trip with the way me, Cori, Tess and Rhianna had our sleeping bags spread out in different directions. In the middle where you might expect a camp fire, there was a huge metal dish with a few pizza crusts scattered across it that none of us felt like finishing off.

I wondered if Tess was thinking about camping too when she asked, "Hey, anybody got a good ghost story?"

Rhianna stopped struggling with the stuck zipper on her sleeping bag and looked up. "Oooo, great idea!" She gave Cori's elbow a light tap. "Hey, you're good at telling stories. Got any really scary ones?"

Cori fidgeted a bit before answering. "I dunno. I don't think this might be the best time to be tellin' ghost stories."

Rhianna sounded more worried than disappointed when she said, "Awww."

Tess reached across the pizza plate and took Cori's hand. "You ain't been havin' them bad dreams again, have you?"

Cori shook her head. "No, I ain't had 'em in a while, but Bobby had a pretty bad one last night."

Rhianna reached over to me and rubbed the back of my shoulder. "You poor girl. It musta been pretty hard after what happened to your mom. Didja wanna tell us 'bout the dream?"

For maybe just a second I seriously thought about sharing my dream, but I wasn't sure I was ready to explain the part where my father had freaked out when he saw me in a dress. I patted the hand on my shoulder and smiled at Rhianna. "Thanks ... ermm ... but I. ..."

"I'm sorry." Rhianna's smile didn't do a very good job of covering her embarrassment as she pulled her hand back. "I really aughta know better than to poke my nose where it don't belong."

Aunt Joan stepped in just then and picked up the mostly empty pie plate. "Okay girls, I'm going to get some sleep after I put this in the dishwasher, and I think it's about time for everyone to get dressed for bed."

All of us moaned, then Cori said what I, and probably the other girls, were thinking. "Moooomm, it's only hardly after eight. Can't we stay up a tiny bit longer?"

Cori's mom held the plate out of the way so she could see her daughter. "Yes, you can stay up and talk after getting dressed for a *little* while, but I expect you and the rest of the girls to at least try going to sleep by ten. You all have school tomorrow, and I'll drag you there in your sleeping bags if I have to." With the way she was grinning after saying that, I wondered how far she'd really go to make sure we made it to school.

Rhianna hopped up and spun around, making the bottom of her nightgown flare out, and started chanting. "I'm already dre-essed. I'm already dre-essed."

Aunt Joan caught her by the shoulder to stop her from spinning. "Did you brush your teeth?"

She somehow managed to look up sheepishly at Aunt Joan while wobbling dizzily. "Ummm ... I was planning on doing it in the morning."

Cori's mom patted Rhianna's arm. "I really think you should take care of that tonight. Why don't you use the bathroom while the rest of the girls are getting dressed?"

She got her balance back pretty quickly, then nodded and turned towards the bathroom, but didn't get more than two steps before Aunt Joan caught her by the wrist. "Hey, don't I get a hug goodnight?"

Rhianna turned on her heel with a huge grin on her face, then reached up and hugged Aunt Joan tightly around the neck. The rest of us lined up behind her to get our hugs in too. Even though my ankle was hardly bothering me at all any more, I still used Cori's crutch as I got to the end of the line. It was simpler to do that than trying to argue with Cori's mom that I didn't need it any more.

Things were a little tricky trying to balance with the crutch and keeping my weight off my right leg, but I eventually worked it out and gave Aunt Joan the biggest one-armed hug I could. I'm not sure how she did it, but I felt safe, warm, and loved when she hugged me back. Aunt Joan then wandered into the kitchen, Rhianna found her way to the bathroom, and I headed for Cori's room ... followed closely by Tess and Cori.

I didn't realize they were behind me until I'd reached the door, so I turned around there to face them. It was one thing to feel like a girl and hang out with other girls, but getting changed around them wasn't something I felt ready for yet. "Ummm...I know this is gonna sound stupid, but would ya's mind if ... umm ... what I mean is. ..."

I might have been there all night trying to get the words out if Cori didn't speak up. "I think what she's trying to say is she's a bit shy about getting changed in front of other people. Is that right, Bobby?"

I nodded and smiled with relief. It didn't explain why I felt shy, but I wasn't ready to try tackling something like that just then.

Tess shifted her overnight bag onto her shoulder and smiled back. "I understand. Rhi's kinda shy like that too. Since Terri ain't here tonight, could I use her room?"

Cori beamed. "That sounds like a great idea! Why don'tcha head in there while I look in my room for something Bobby can borrow? Once I get that and something for myself, I'll join ya."

" 'Kay. See ya in a few." Tess nodded and waved before heading towards Terri's door.

=-=-=

Cori had me sit on her bed while she searched through her closet. As I listened to her rummaging around, bits of the nightmare I'd had while sleeping in that bed came back to me. Fortunately, before I could really start worring about going through the same thing tonight, Cori walked out of the closet with a bundle in her arms.

"Okay, I know this is kinda frilly, but the nightshirt ya wore last night was pretty much the only unfrilly thing I got." She carefully laid part of what she was carrying beside me. "I also included something else, just in case ya ... well ... just in case." She blushed just a little bit. "Anyways, I'm gonna head over to Terri's room now. If ya need any help with anything and we're not out in the living room yet, just knock on Terri's door. Okay?"

Once I nodded, she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I looked down at what she left for me. It was a white nightgown with tiny pink and blue puppies playing on it. There was white lace with a strip of blue trim around the neck and pink heart shaped buttons down the front. It definitely was as frilly as Cori had said. I picked up the nightgown and saw there was the same kind of trim around the sleeves and bottom. I also saw the Goodnights Cori had left underneath.

Even though it had been a long time since I'd wet the bed, I didn't wanna repeat the accident I had last night. Wearing the Goodnights sounded a little embarrassing, but not as bad as trying to explain to my friends how my sleeping bag had gotten wet. I kicked off the shoes I'd borrowed from Cori, stripped off the cute shortalls and had just pulled down my panties ... when the bedroom door swung open.

"Hey Cori, I was just wondering if--" Rhianna froze in the doorway.

My brain screamed at me to do something, anything, but I couldn't move. Time felt like it froze as she stared at me with my panties around my ankles. Her voice sounded far away and I could hardly hear her with the ringing in my ears. "Oh Bobby, I ... I'm sorry. I ... uhhh ... I'll just be out in the living room."

=-=-=

I could hardly move even after she closed the door. I turned my head, which seemed to be the only thing I could do just then, and saw my reflection in the mirror on the door of Cori's closet. From the waist up I saw a girl in a pretty white blouse with her hair up in pigtails. From the waist down I saw a boy. The top half looked like it couldn't decide whether to scream or cry; the bottom looked ... awful.

"Oh my god," I whispered as I turned away. "He was right." My stomach flipped over as I thought about something my father had said at the end of my fifth birthday party. I looked back at the mirror. From the look on my reflections face you would have thought she had just smelled something really gross.

"You ... you freak!" I thought I was going to be sick as I screamed. "Go away you ... you freak!" I reached out for something to throw. The first thing my hands found was a fuzzy tissue box, which I tossed at the reflection. It didn't do much besides bouncing off the mirror with a soft 'thunk'. "I hate you. Go away!"

The door swung open again. I was so completely gone just then, I didn't even bother trying to cover myself as I turned. I could barely make out who it was through my tears, but with the way she filled the doorway, a part of me realized it must be Aunt Joan. That didn't stop me from screaming, "Go away!"

Aunt Joan stepped towards me as she asked, "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

My brain pretty much stopped working about then. All I knew was someone big was coming towards me. I swung out a fist and roared the only words I could think of. "GO AWAY!"

Aunt Joan caught my hand in mid-swing, took hold of the other one, then spoke very softly, but in a way that reached through the rage and fear swirling around me. "Bobby, I realize you're very upset, but if you try to punch me again, you'll get a sharp swat on your backside. Do you understand me?"

Even though I heard her, it took me a while for what she said to sink in, and a bit longer for my head to clear enough to remember how to nod.

"Very good. I'm going to let go of your hands now. Are you going to try hitting me?"

When I shook my head no, she let go, then pulled my panties back up to my waist. I stared straight ahead as she did that, feeling too numb to even think about it. The only things I could feel were emptiness and a deep, aching sadness. Aunt Joan then picked up the tissue box, which had rolled to the middle of the floor, took one of my hands, and led me over to the rocking chair where she had held me after my nightmare last night.

When she sat down and pulled me onto her lap, I just curled up in a ball and started sobbing. All the hopes I'd had that maybe someday, somehow, I could just be me were gone. When I was able to speak again, I asked, "Why am I like this?"

"Why are you like what?" Aunt Joan's soft words came out slowly, as if they were being chosen very carefully.

"Why am I such a freak?"

I felt a hand slip under my chin and my head was lifted until I was facing Cori's mom. The sadness in her eyes almost started me crying again. "Dearheart, who in the world would call you such an awful thing?"

I almost said my father, but that wasn't exactly true. He had asked me if I wanted people thinking I was a freak when he saw me in a dress on my fifth birthday, but that wasn't exactly the same thing as calling me one. "Does it really matter if anybody said it? I'm a girl who thinks she's a boy." It took me a second before I realized what I meant to say had come out backwards. "I mean, I'm a boy who thinks he's a girl."

Something that looked like simple, honest confusion crinkled up her eyebrows and forehead. "What makes you say that?"

"Aunt Joan, you *saw* me naked. You know I got boy parts. I've seen 'em all my life. How could I do that and still think I'm a girl?" Before she could answer, I realized something else. "Oh god ... Rhianna saw me too. That means the whole school's gonna find out."

As I started thinking over how much worse things would probably be at my new school where someone actually saw me dressing and acting like a girl, I heard a new voice ask, "What's the whole school gonna find out?"

I turned and saw Rhianna standing in the doorway, looking sad and worried, with Cori and Tess behind her looking pretty much the same. Instead of answering the question I asked, "What are you doing here?"

I felt Aunt Joan kiss the back of my head. "It looks like your friends are concerned about you."

"Why would they wanna be my friends?"

Even though I'd meant the question for Aunt Joan, Rhianna answered it. " 'Cause you're a nice girl?"

"Girl? How could ya call me that after seein' me like you did?"

Rhianna stared at her toes. "I'm really sorry for walking in on ya like that. I know how ya feel 'bout being seen naked and I really feel awful."

Hearing a girl saying she knew how I felt just piled jealousy on top of the hurt I was already feeling. "What gives you the right to say you know how I feel? Nobody knows how I feel!"

There was a deep sadness in her eyes when she looked back up. "I know."

Guilt piled up on everything else when I saw she was just about ready to cry, but it didn't stop me from feeling mad. "What makes ya think ya know how I feel?"

" 'Cause. ..."

Cori slipped an arm around Rhianna's waist. "Go ahead and say it."

Tess stood on the other side of Rhianna and wrapped an arm across her shoulders. "I think she needs to hear it much as ya need to say it."

Rhianna gave them each a small smile before turning to me with a more serious look, taking in a deep breath and saying, "I understand 'cause, in a lotta ways, I'm like you."

"Whatcha mean you're like me?"

Her cheeks turned a deep pink. "I mean ... I got boy parts."

I couldn't decide if I heard wrong or if she was just telling a really stupid joke. "Boy parts?"

For a long while, I just stared at her when she nodded. "But, you're a girl."

Rhianna frowned at me. "Yeah ... and?"

"Well, girls ain't got boy parts."

Tess let go of Rhianna's shoulder, stepped in front of her, and stood like she was ready to protect the other girl. "Who says?"

I thought long and hard about that, but could only think of one person who'd said anything like that to me. "Umm ... my father."

Rhianna gently moved Cori's arm from around her waist, stepped around Tess, and walked over to me until she was almost close enough to touch. "My granma told me, but sometimes grownups make mistakes."

Aunt Joan's chin rubbed the top of my head as she nodded. "I can certainly vouch for that. With age comes experience, and hopefully wisdom, but that doesn't mean adults have all the answers."

I turned to Cori's mom, who had just the hint of a smile on her face. "You sayin' I ain't supposed to listen to grownups?"

"No, but you should think about what someone says before you accept it as fact. If someone says something that doesn't make sense, keep on asking questions until you find an answer that does. Did being told you were a boy make sense to you?"

"Not really. I did try asking my father questions when he'd told me that, but they didn't make sense neither."

I felt someone touch my arm and turned to see it was Rhianna. "It might help askin' others for answers then. It took me a while before I found somebody who had answers that made sense."

"Who'd ya ask?" The idea of being able to get real answers lifted something I had't realized was hanging over me until then.

"Well, a lotta people, but Ms. Marple gots some really good answers."

"Who's that?"

Tess walked over to us until she was standing next to Rhianna and smiled at me. "That's one of the counselors at school."

Cori came in and gave me a smile from Rhianna's other side. "She's also our homeroom teacher."

I packed those bit of info away for later, then took back out what Cori had just said. "Wait a minute. You all got homerooms? I thought they didn't do stuff like that until high school."

Cori giggled before she answered. "They kinda do things a little different in our school."

"Oh." I thought back to all the weird questions I had to answer when I'd helped Mom fill out the school application form. Back then I'd just figured that's the way schools did stuff. As I started wondering what might have been behind some of the questions, I noticed the faint tapping of raindrops falling on the outside of the bedroom window. "How different is different?"

Aunt Joan wrapped her arms around me a little more tightly for a moment. "Why don't you finish getting dressed, then you can ask the other girls all about it?"

Being counted as one of "the other girls" made me smile. "Are ya's really okay with me being at the slumber party?"

Tess grinned as she rolled her eyes. "Of course we're okay. Now would ya get yourself changed so we can get it started?"

Aunt Joan waved at the three of them with one arm while leaving the other wrapped around me, keeping my backside more or less covered. "Okay, shoo! Bobby will join you as soon as she's finished changing."

Once they were gone, she slid me off her lap, kneeled down next to me, and gave me a huge hug. "Sweetheart, I realize things are probably pretty confusing and a bit scary for you now, but I promise, things are going to be better. Me and your mommy and ... some other people who care a lot about you are going to be there for you. So just relax and be yourself. Okay?"

I felt a couple of tears trickle out the corner of my eye as I hugged her back, but I felt happier than I had in a long, long time. "Okay, I'll try."

Aunt Joan kissed my forehead as she stood up, then gave me another smile before walking out, closing the door behind her.

I sat down on the bed and looked at the nightgown beside me. Thunder rolled in the distance. I thought about how it had started raining just as I was climbing on the bus after my first day of school. Had it really only been two days since Cori had pulled me out of that mud puddle, and this whole adventure started?

I'd learned a lot since then, both about myself and other people. As the rain started falling harder, I kinda got the feeling my adventure was ending, but I also had a feeling another one was about to start. I stood up and started getting changed as quickly as I could. I wanted to ask my new friends all the questions I could before I started my new adventure at school.

This is a very short story/vignette about a father who's doing what he believes is best for his child and what happens when others disagree with him.

Daddy's Little Girl

Copyright 2008 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

While deftly weaving between all the strangers meandering like zombies through the crowded airport, I stole a glance at the little girl sleeping in my arms.

"No," I thought to myself, "that's the kind of thinking that lost me custody in the first place. He's my son, not my daughter."

Even though I knew Melissa -- no, Michael -- was very serious when he said he wanted to be a girl, the judge seemed convinced a five-year-old couldn't make that kind of a decision even before Theresa's lawyer presented his argument. Attempting to bring out that he'd been living as a girl for a year and still hadn't changed his mind had only made things worse.

"AeroExpress flight 212 is arriving at gate 16C," announced a disembodied voice, sounding much too chipper for four o-clock in the morning.

"Oh sh--." I shifted Michael higher on my hip, did an about face, and trotted in the other direction.

My son lifted his head from my shoulder and squinted up at me. "We at Mommy's plane yet?"

I brushed a few silky strands of his auburn hair behind his ear. "Not yet, pumpkin," I answered as I put on what I hoped was a reassuring smile to hide my worry. It was hard to do when I thought of how he'll probably react after he finds out about Theresa's plans to give him a 'decent' haircut.

A shudder passed through me as I started imagining what else might happen in the month he'd be with her before we saw the judge again. Even though I knew without a doubt that she'd never do anything to hurt our child, I also wondered how far she'd go to try to 'help' Michael. It had taken a lot of thinking and soul searching before I'd decided running away with him would probably cause more harm than a short-term shift in custody arrangements.

Michael blinked sleepily, but I could still see both the curiosity and worry behind his eyes. "What she like?"

"Oh, she's the most wonderful woman I've ever known." That was the absolute truth, which made her blindness to what was really going on with our child even more maddening. I knew I was going to get angry again if I brooded about it too long, so I desperately grasped at the next thought that floated by. "Jack seems like a pretty nice guy."

He gave me a much more serious look than a child his age should be able to manage. "Mommy told me he could be my daddy."

I quickly swallowed the lump threatening to choke me. "I'm sure he'd make a wonderful father."

"That mean ya ain't gonna be my daddy no more?"

I froze, ignoring the angry muttering of those passing me. The pain in Michael's -- no, Melissa's -- voice and the lost look in her eyes broke my heart. "Sweetheart, I'll always, always be your Daddy."

My assurance was rewarded with a tiny, brave smile.

"You know what else?" I asked as I brushed a tear from her delicate cheek.

"What?"

"You'll always be Daddy's little girl."

This is a continuation of a bit of flash fiction I'd written called, Daddy's Little Girl. I hadn't really planned on writing a continuation, but when this family came to me with their story a few days before Christmas, I had to write it. It's a story that shows even dense people can sometimes be reasonable with the right motivation.

Daddy's Little Girl - Christmas Day
Copyright 2008 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Sipping my fourth cup of coffee for the night (or was it the first cup for the morning?), I studied the scruffy face of the man I used to call my husband. He set his cup on the kitchen table separating us, missing the saucer I'd put in front of him for just that purpose by several inches. "Are you sure you don't want to call Jack and tell him it's okay to be here?"

I imitated Mark's action, but waited for the clink of stoneware against stoneware before shaking my head. "I don't think he'd come today, or at least not this morning, no matter what I said. We discussed it for quite a while yesterday, and he seems convinced things would work out better if, at least initially, it was just you, me, and our son."

Mark's bushy eyebrows popped up. "Our son?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. "I mean our ... child."

I opened my eyes back up when I felt his hand on mine and was taken by surprise when I saw the deep concern in his golden brown eyes. "Theresa," he whispered, "are you thinking of backing out?"

"No," I answered just as quietly. "I've tried doing things my way and wound up with a miserable, withdrawn child. It's been breaking my heart seeing hi--her like that."

My former husband nodded, and stared at his half-empty cup before asking, "How does Jack feel about this?"

I shifted my hand under his, took hold of his fingers and squeezed them gently. "Actually, he was the one who initially suggested maybe what I was doing wasn't helping."

Mark looked back up at me, the pain in his eyes replaced by impish mirth. "He had the nerve to suggest you might be mistaken? He's a much braver man than I."

I could feel my cheeks growing warm. "I'm not really that bad, am I?"

His expression became more serious, although the hint of a smile still lingered. "Most of the time, you're a reasonable woman. But there are times, when you get something in your head, it's pretty much impossible to convince you otherwise."

"I'm sorry. I guess I can be pretty mule-headed at times. It's just, when I'm trying to protect someone I care about, I sometimes ..." I let the rest of my apology drop when I heard the creak of small feet coming down the steps and turned towards the doorway leading out to the living room. "Good morning, sweetie!" I shouted. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Mommy," called back a soft, listless voice.

"There's someone down here in the kitchen waiting to see you, sweetheart."

"Really? Who?" The hint of hope in those two words brought a lump up in my throat. It was the first time in weeks I'd heard more than a dull monotone.

"Why don't you come down and find out?" I asked, mentally crossing my fingers and hoping I'd made the right decision by inviting Mark over for Christmas.

Daddy!" The squeal of excitement when the most precious child in the world walked into the kitchen told me my concerns were unfounded.

Mark slid from his chair and kneeled in the puddle he'd made in the middle of the recently scrubbed linoleum when the snow and mud had melted from his boots. "Merry Christmas, pumpkin. C'mere and gimme hugs."

The bliss on both their faces as they hugged made all the favors I called in so Mark could get a day off from working as a roadie, and the deals I had to make so he could get an overnight flight from where the concert was being held, more than worth it. As I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin from the table, I asked, "So, is anybody ready to open up Christmas presents?"

"I guess so," answered the small miracle in my ex-husband's arms.

Mark brushed the back of the long, silky hair our child had refused to let me trim. "Hey, it's Christmas day. What's with all the grumpy gloomies?"

"I dunno."

"I think maybe I got an idea of what's going on. You're thinking maybe Santa didn't get your letter this year, hmm?" Marks question was answered with a noncommittal shrug. Mark responded with a warm, gentle hug, then asked, "Has Santa ever failed you before?"

"Well, no."

"Then why don't we go take a look under the tree and see what he left for you?" Mark asked as he scooped up our child and lead the way into the living room.
=-=-=

"Mommy, what happened to our presents?"

I kneeled in front of the Christmas tree beside my questioner and wrapped an arm around his waist. "No," I thought as I mentally scolded myself, "it's *her* waist. If you're going to do this, there can be no half measures." Out loud, I said, "Well, your father and I had a bit of a chat with Santa last night. It turned out some of the wrong presents had been left here, so they were swapped with the correct ones."

"Santa made a mistake?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Sometimes, grownups make mistakes ... even Santa."

Mark kneeled beside us and pulled a large, flat package from under the tree. "So, are you going to just stare at the presents, or are you going to open them?"

Our daughter's grin stretched from ear to ear as she started tearing open the gift, then dropped it as if she had been burned when she lifted the lid.

"What's wrong, Pumpkin?" Mark asked as he picked the half-opened package up from the floor.

"It ... it's a dress," she answered as she touched the bit of green velvet peeking out of the box with a trembling finger.

"Yes it is," he said as he lifted the lid and tossed it aside, revealing an adorable jumper dress I'd caught our daughter eyeing only a few days ago.

"But, Mommy said I couldn't wear girl stuff no more. She said I gotta wear boy stuff."

I squeezed her waist and asked, "Do you want to wear boy clothes?"

"Nnnnnooo ... but you said I had to 'cause I'm a boy."

"I did say that. But, like I said before, sometimes grownups, even mommies, make mistakes."

Hot tears slid down my cheeks as my daughter wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered between sniffles, "Thank you, Mommy."

Barely able to speak myself, I whispered back, "You're welcome, Melissa. Merry Christmas."

Dominic and the Daddy Domme - Chapter 1
Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, a struggling college student meets a friendly coworker who offers to help him out when both simple issue, as well as a terrifyingly overwhelming one.

=-=-=

"Hey!" somebody called out from behind me. "No minors behind the bar."

The last of my freshly washed shot glasses sparkled in the purple mood lighting when I placed it on the stack I'd been creating. I squared my shoulders while setting aside my irritation, then straightened my back before I turned and said, "I'll be twenty-two in a few months."

A woman in a sleeveless black t-shirt grinned while leaning her well-toned forearms on the bar separating us, then asked, "So ... you're headed to the old folks home after work?"

Even though I was still a little annoyed at being called a minor, I couldn't help grinning back when I said, "Nah, I'm too old for that. I'm headed straight for the morgue."

The woman's grin faded when she said, "Don't joke around like that, kid."

I frowned and said, "Please don't call me that."

She ran her fingers through her short, spiky hair while saying, "Sorry, bad habit of mine." After leaning on the bar again, she asked, "Is there something else you'd like to be called?"

"Well," I said while fiddling with a corner of my apron, "most people call me Nic."

"Hey there, Nic," she said as she stretched out her arm over the bar. "You can call me Di."

My stomach flip-flopped when I realized she was offering to make actual, physical contact with me. I took a few steps towards her while drying my sweaty hands on the towel hanging from my apron. "Nice to meet you, Di," I said as I placed my right hand in hers.

Her grip was strong, yet gentle, when she shook hands with me. After letting go, she asked, "Is Nic short for Nicholas?"

I took in a slow, deep breath to calm my jangled nerves, then said, "Actually, it's Dominic."

Di chuckled, then said, "You're definitely more a Nic than a Dom."

I blinked while my scrambled brain tried to decipher the comment, then said, "Huh?"

She grinned again, then said, "Just think of it as a dumb dad joke."

I rolled my eyes and asked, "Should I call you Dad?"

The corners of her eyes crinkled when she said, "Hrmmm ... sounds tempting."

My fingers started to tingle when I took a step back and asked, "Are you flirting with me?"

There was a playful twinkle in her eyes when she asked, "Do you get flirted with a lot?"

I crossed my arms and said, "In case it's not already obvious, I *am* a guy."

"And?"

"And ... well ... this is a lesbian bar, so ... ummm."

Di raised an eyebrow, then asked, "You thought I was only into girls?"

I took another step back and said, "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you--"

She held up a hand and said, "Hey, it's okay. Easy mistake to make."

I let my arms drop as I said, "Thanks for being so understanding."

Di nodded and said, "Not a problem. But, for the record, you were right."

Confusion joined my embarrassment. "I ... uh ... gotta go."

She smiled and said, "I better head home too. Being a bouncer ain't as easy as I make it look."

"I meant, I gotta go to ... the bathroom."

"Ah, got it," Di said, then pointed to a pair of doors. "Both restrooms are still unlocked."

I peeked at the doors, then asked, "You sure nobody will mind me being in there?"

"Don't worry," she said while resting her hands on her hips. "We closed a few minutes ago, so nobody should be in there."

=-=-=

Someone was definitely in the bathroom. At least, based on the impressively loud vomiting I was hearing, there was someone on the far side of the door marked 'Butch'. I half-opened the other door, and asked, "Anybody in here?"

When nobody answered, I pushed the door open a little more, then stepped inside. I squinted until my eyes adjusted to the stark white lighting, then made a bee-line towards the closest stall. While I sat and took care of business, muffled shouts came through the wall behind me.

I sighed with relief when I realized I'd managed to avoid whatever trouble was going on in the other bathroom. After finishing what I started, I exited the stall, and wandered over to the sinks. I stared at my reflection while washing up, and a scrawny guy with messy brown hair stared back.

After drying my hands, I unrolled my hairband from my shaggy ponytail onto my wrist. I was running my fingers through my hair to loosen the tangles, when someone knocked on the bathroom door.

"You in there, Nic?" Di yelled through the door.

"Yeah!" I yelled back while pulling a comb out of my pocket.

The bouncer opened the door a crack and poked her head in, then glanced from side to side before entering. She gave me a wide smile, then said, "I thought I'd find you in here."

I started combing the back of my hair while asking, "Whatcha mean by that?" then winced when my comb hit a snag.

"Want some help there?" she asked as she strode towards me.

I wiggled my comb out of the knot in my hair and said, "It's alright. I can take care of it later."

Di looked at me in the mirror, then held her hand under my comb and said, "I promise to be careful."

While the idea of someone I barely knew combing my hair seemed odd, struggling with the mess at the back of my head didn't sound fun. After considering the pros and cons of both sides, I placed my comb in her hand and said, "If you're sure, I'd appreciate the help."

She gave me a warm smile as she accepted the comb, then said, "No problem," before stepping behind me. I gasped when she gathered my hair in a firm grip at the nape of my neck. Di looked over my head at my reflection, making me realize she was at least a couple inches taller.

Even though tall people usually made me anxious, there was something in the way she looked at me that just ... put me at ease. While I was pondering that realization, she asked, "Am I holding too tight?"

I tried shaking my head, but I couldn't move it while she was holding onto my hair, so I said, "No, I just ... I'm not used to anybody doing anything to my hair."

"Don't worry," she said in a voice that was almost as soft as a whisper, "you're in good hands."

I did my best to relax while she ran the comb through the ends of my hair. While there were a few tugs, they weren't sharp enough to hurt. Her grip on my hair loosened, and the comb glided across the back of my scalp. I braced myself for the inevitable snag, but nothing happened.

"Wow," I said as she combed the left side of my hair over my ear, "you're really good."

"Thanks," she said while combing the other side of my head. "I used to know someone who's hair was a little longer than yours, and brushed it for her all the time."

There was a hint of sadness in her last few words. While I was trying to think of something comforting to say, she slipped the hairband off my wrist, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, then asked, "How's that?"

While it was higher than I usually liked it, I didn't want to sound ungrateful, so I said, "It looks nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Di said while stepping out from behind me. "You ready to head out?"

The tip of my ponytail swished against the back of my neck when I nodded and said, "Oh yeah. It's been a long night, and I'm *so* ready for bed."

=-=-=

I zipped up my windbreaker as soon as we walked out of the bar, but the cool night breeze blowing across the deserted street still made me shiver.

After locking up, Di looked at me while shrugging into her leather jacket, then asked, "You getting cold?"

"I'm okay," I said while tucking my frozen fingers under my armpits.

The bouncer gave me a look that made me feel like a kid caught in a bald-faced lie. I was trying to think of a decent apology, when she pointed to a brightly lit storefront and said, "There's a nice coffee shop down there, if you want to get something to warm you up."

I thought about the suggestion, then said, "It's probably not good to be drinking coffee right before I head off to bed."

She nodded and said, "Good point. How about hot cocoa?"

I sighed wistfully, then said, "I haven't had that since I was little."

"Ah!" she said while tugging at my elbow. "You're in for a treat, then."

The idea of something warm and tasty before bed sounded too good to pass up, so I followed Di down the street to the coffee shop.

=-=-=

I caught a whiff of freshly baked pastry, along with other delicious scents, when I walked through the door. A burly man with dark skin, darker hair, and a thick beard leaned against the counter to my right and said, "Welcome to Uncle Fern's Cafe."

"Hey Fernando," Di said as she walked around from behind me.

The man bounded out from behind the counter and said, "Didi!" then gave her what looked like a bone-crushing hug. After letting go, he waved a beefy hand towards me with a slight flourish while asking, "Who's your pretty friend?"

At first, I wanted tell him off for asking such a weird question, but he sounded too sincere for me to be seriously offended. While I was trying to decide how to react, Di placed her hand on the small of my back and said, "His name's Nic. He just started working at Xena and Gabi's today."

A broad smile spread across Fernando's face, then he said something that sounded vaguely Spanish. The bouncer smiled back and said, "We're just friends." While I was somewhat frustrated at missing out on half of the conversation, having Di call me a friend felt wonderful!

The man nodded and said, "Of course. Would you like your usual drink?"

My new friend lowered her hand from my back and said, "I'm skipping the Irish coffee tonight. Could we get a couple of hot cocoas, with all the toppings?"

"You got it!" Fernando said while giving Di a wink. "Go ahead and find a seat," he added before giving her shoulder a friendly slap. "I'll bring your order to you as soon as it's ready."

While the man made his way around the counter, Di gestured towards a table a half dozen feet from us and asked, "You okay sitting by the window?"

I nodded and said, "Sure," before heading to the table. Just as I was about to sit, I heard a wooden scrape. When I turned to the noise, I saw my friend holding onto the back of the chair I was about to sit on. I looked from the chair to her and and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just waiting for you to sit," she said while nodding at the chair.

Even though it felt a little strange, it also felt nice, so I sat and said, "Thanks."

After helping me with my chair, Di sat across from me, then rested her arms on the tiny table between us, and said, "I hope Diego didn't run you ragged on your first night."

I thought about the cheerful guy who'd cooked in the cramped kitchen while I cleaned, then said, "It definitely was busier than I'd expected, but he had me laughing too hard to mind."

My friend nodded and said, "He's usually fun to be around, so long as he's sober."

"What's he like when--" I started asking, then paused when my phone buzzed in my back pocket. " 'Scuse me," I said while pulling out my phone. A chill ran down my spine when I checked my texts, and saw the most recent message.

I was still staring at the screen, when Di nudged my arm and asked, "Everything okay?"

"I ... I'm not sure," I said when I looked up at her.

She leaned closer and asked, "What's wrong?"

I looked back at my phone, and studied the words to make sure I hadn't misread anything, then said, "The hotel I'd booked into before work said my check was declined, and my baggage can be picked up at the front desk."

Di grimaced and said, "That's awful!"

I tried to laugh, but made a choking sound instead, then shrugged and said, "I knew my parents had found a way to withdraw funding for my college courses, but I wasn't expecting them to do anything with my checking account."

"What the h--" she started saying, then stopped when Fernanado approached our table.

He looked from me to my friend while setting steaming mugs of cocoa in front of us, then said, "Here you go," in a very subdued voice before wandering off.

Once Fernando left, Di leaned forward again, then asked, "Why would your parents do something like that to such a sweet k--person?"

I wrapped my hands around the earthenware mug in front of me, and watched the whipped cream melt into the dark brown liquid below it. Eventually, I shrugged and said, "It's a bit of a long story."

Di patted my arm, then said, "If you're willing to talk, I'm a pretty good listener."

I looked up from my drink to the woman sitting across the table from me, then said, "It all started when I'd dressed as a cheerleader for a Halloween party." I waited for a teasing remark, or a surprised reaction, but my friend just nodded with an attentive expression on her face.

"I was surprised when my dorm-mate suggested I try it," I said, "but when he said college was a place to try new things, I decided to give it a go. When nobody made an issue about how I was dressed at the party, I was able to relax, a had lot of fun!"

My friend smiled and nodded again while taking a sip of her drink.

I sipped my own drink, enjoying the hint of cinnamon in the cocoa, then set my mug down and said, "Unfortunately, the next morning, I got a call from my parents, who'd come across a picture someone posted of me while I was at the party."

"And ... they got upset about you going to a college party?"

I shrugged and said, "Well, they were kinda upset about the party, but they went completely ballistic over the way I'd been dressed." I swallowed the painful lump in my throat, then said, "They accused me of some really ... awful stuff, then withdrew my college funds."

A hot tear slid down my cheek as I said, "Those funds also covered the cost of my dorm room, which is why I went to the hotel." I closed my eyes when my vision blurred, then said, "But, now that I don't have that, I ... I dunno what I'm gonna do."

Something soft brushed against my cheek. I opened my eyes as Di blotted my other cheek with a paper napkin. She pressed the napkin against my nose and said, "Go ahead and blow." I tried to protest, but it was hard to do with my mouth half covered, so I did as I was asked instead.

After taking the napkin away from my face, she asked, "Would you be okay with me making a couple of suggestions?"

I didn't trust myself to speak without crying again, so I nodded instead.

Di nodded back, then said, "First, you should finish your cocoa."

I gave my friend a faint smile before taking another sip of my drink.

"Next, I'd like to suggest you stay with me until you get your feet under you again."

I started coughing when I tried to gasp while drinking. Once my throat was clear enough to speak, I said, "I can't impose on you like that."

"It's no imposition. I have a spare room, and you need a place to stay."

"Wow," I said while looking into here deep green eyes, "that's really nice of you to do. Especially for someone you've only just met. Thank you so much!"

She gave me a kind, gentle smile, and said, "It's my pleasure."

Dominic and the Daddy Domme - Chapter 2
Copyright 2023 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, Nic experiences kindness and support from his new friend while recovering from the harsh treatment of his parents.

=-=-=

Di frowned while running her fingers through her short, thick hair. Her pale blonde spikes had been turned silvery-blue by the bright lights of the nearly empty parking lot we were walking through. "Sorry we couldn't get your suitcase," she said as we approached her microvan.

I ignored the icy wind slapping my ponytail against the back of my head while adjusting the reclaimed bookbag dangling from my shoulder. "I'm surprised you were able to talk the night manager into giving me anything," I said, then smiled at my friend before adding, "I really appreciate your help."

She smiled back while pulling open the driver's side door, then said, "Glad I could help," before climbing in and closing her door.

After opening the passenger door, I plopped into the seat, then rested my bulky bag on my knees before pulling the door closed. The slam of the door interrupted something my friend was saying, so I turned to her and asked, "What was that?"

"It's okay, I'll take care of it," Di said as she reached over my waist.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked while she felt around for something near my right hip.

She pulled straps across my shoulder and lap while saying, "I'm making sure my passenger is safe."

My mouth hung open when she clicked my seatbelt into place. Eventually, I shut my mouth, then pulled my bookbag close and said, "Oh ... ummm ... you didn't need to do that."

"I don't mind," Di said while adjusting her own seatbelt.

After being left high and dry by my parents when they nuked my college funds, having someone being concerned about me being safe was comforting. I reached behind my neck and played with the wispy end of my ponytail while saying, "That really means a lot to me."

She grinned and nodded before pressing the ignition button. After the car rumbled awake, my friend pressed another button, and warm air began blowing from the vents near my feet.

My tense, aching muscles began to relax. I let go of my hair and stifled a yawn with the back of my hand, then said, "That feels nice."

Di's grin grew as she pulled out of the Bayview Hotel parking lot.

After we merged with the late night traffic, my friend glanced at the bag on my lap, and said, "That's some nice embroidery on your backpack."

"Umm ... thanks," I said while running my fingers over the flowers stitched into the front pocket of my bookbag.

My friend was quiet while switching lanes, then asked, "Did it come like that?"

"Actually," I said as my cheeks warmed, "I added the design to hide a tear I hadn't noticed when I picked my bookbag up from a thrift shop."

Di glanced down again, then said, "You did a good job."

"Thanks," I said as the warmth in my cheeks spread to my ears.

After we pulled to a stop at a traffic signal, she asked, "Are you taking any textiles and apparel design classes in college?"

"Actually, I'm majoring in business management," I said. "At least ... I was."

My friend brushed a few stray hairs from in front of my eyes, then said, "I know things are pretty bad for your right now, but they'll get better."

I let out a shaky breath, then said, "I wish I had your confidence."

A playful twinkle danced in Di's eyes when she drove through the intersection and said, "I'll just have to be confident enough for both of us."

=-=-=

There were a few dull clicks to my left a moment before I opened my eyes. "Hey there, sleepyhead," My friend said as seatbelts zipped across my stomach and chest. "We're home." A cool breeze swept across me when she stood up.

"Oh wow," I said while wrapping goosebumpy arms around my bookbag. "How long was I out?"

"A few minutes," she said before taking a step back. "Want some help out?"

"I'm good," I said as I pulled myself out of the fading warmth of the plush seat I'd been dozing in. I gasped when I stood up, both at the beauty of the starry sky, and at how much colder the night had gotten.

"You feeling chilly?" she asked while shutting and locking the door behind me.

I slipped one of the straps of my bag over my shoulder while trying to decide how to respond. At first, I was tempted to say I was fine. After contemplating how she reacted the last time I'd stretched the truth, I said, "I guess I'm sorta ... I mean ... yeah, I kinda am."

Even though I couldn't read her expression by the pale light of the waning moon, there was a hint of approval in her voice when she said, "Let's get you inside, where it's nice and warm."

"Would you like me to adjust the temperature in the guest room?" asked a lilting voice with a british accent from the shadows of the dark house towering over us.

Di nodded and said, "Yes, please."

I took a step closer to my friend and asked, "Who's that?"

"My name is Ada," said the disembodied voice while a pair of lamps on either side of the front door lit up a small porch.

"It's nice to meet you," I said while attempting to rub away the goosebumps on my upper arms.

"The pleasure is all mine," Ada said in a voice that managed to be reserved as well as friendly. "Won't you come inside?"

"Come on," Di said before leading the way up the short cobblestone path to the porch. "I'll make formal introductions once we get you out of the cold."

=-=-=

Warm puffs of air flowed from the floor vent near the front door when I followed Di into a narrow hallway. Subdued lighting over several doorways brightened while a british voice from somewhere nearby said, "To the right you will find the kitchen, dining room, and playroom."

Blinking with both sleepiness and surprise when I heard the last room's name, I tried to ask my friend if she had any kids, but I wound up letting out a huge yawn instead.

Di smiled and winked at me, then hung her leather jacket on the coatrack by the door while saying, "We may need to put off the house tour for tomorrow, Ada. Is the guest room ready?"

"Of course," Ada said while the staircase to the left was being lit by a row of ceiling lights. When the last light came on, her voice sounded a little distant when she said, "The guest room can be found up here on the second floor, through the first door to your right, Miss."

I frowned while looking up in the general direction the voice seemed to be coming from, and said, "I'm ... ummm ... not a Miss."

Ada's voice sounded closer, and a very embarrassed, when she said, "Oh, I do beg your pardon. Would you prefer Sir, Miz, Mix, or some other title?"

I shrugged while my tired brain tried to figure out the last title, then said, "Would ya mind just calling me Nic?"

"It would be my pleasure, Nic," she answered in a relieved voice that seemed to be coming from a distance again. "If you'd like to come upstairs, we can get you tucked into bed."

=-=-=

My half-lidded eyes popped open when I entered the guest bedroom. "Oh wow," I said in a voice softened by awe. "This is so ... so ..."

Di stepped through the door behind me while saying, "If it's too girly, you're welcome to use my bedroom."

I glanced around the tastefully decorated room, then said, "Oh, this isn't girly at all."

My friend raised an eyebrow while asking, "Are you sure?"

I shifted from foot to foot while trying to think of a way of explaining how much I liked the room. It reminded me of the changes I'd tried to make to my parents plans for redecorating my bedroom when I was eight. But how do you explain something like that without sounding weird, or gay, or ... whatever I was?

After a lot of internal debate, I said, "Well ... the yellow gingham bedspread is a bit ... I guess ... frilly, and the daisies on the wallpaper are pretty," I bit my lower lip, then added, "but ... they're subtle touches which add charm to the room, rather than making it particularly girly."

A broad smile spread across Di's face.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said while striding across the room. She tapped the top drawer of a tall dresser and said, "There's some pajamas that should fit you in here. My last guest didn't leave behind a lot, but you're welcome to borrow anything you find in here."

I smiled back and said, "Oh wow ... thank you! I'd forgotten about not having my suitcase."

There was a maternal (paternal?) warmth in her eyes when she walked towards me and said, "It's no problem, sweetie." Before I could react to the pet name, she lifted my bookbag from my shoulder, rested it on the bed, then said, "I'll give you some privacy, so you can change."

I barely had time to nod my thanks before my friend had walked out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet snick. Once I was alone, I wandered over to the dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and winced at the faint squeak.

Even though I knew I'd been given permission to use what was in the dresser, I still felt a twinge of guilt when I looked in the drawer. To my surprise, the pajamas on top were a simple red and black plaid. But, when I pulled them out of the drawer, I noticed the red lace lining the cuffs.

Even though they weren't that bad, I folded the first pair of pajamas back up. After setting them on top of the dresser, I looked at the second pair. They were a rich honey color, decorated with tiny white roses. When I ran my fingertips across the fabric, it felt incredibly soft, and a bit silky.

My heart thudded when I thought of how my parents would react to seeing me wear something so pretty. I shoved those thoughts aside as I lifted the pajama top up, then draped it across my front. The thought of actually wearing it made me a little giddy.

At that moment, I realized it was long past time to stop trying to please my parents. I smiled to myself while removing the hairband from my ponytail, then began getting changed.

In a world where dreams aren't always what they seem, and spells can take hold of those most dear to you, closet monsters may be more than just childish imagination.

CAUTION: There's a really creepy scene in this story. If something like that might bother you, then please be careful.

Dreams, Spells, and Closet Monsters - 1
Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

"Michael," said an echoing voice. I couldn't tell if it was speaking softly in both ears at the same time, or shouting from some unimaginable distance away.

I frowned at the emptiness in front of me and said, "It's Michelle now."

"I'm sorry, baby," said the voice. "I've been lost here for so long, memories tend to slip past each other in ... very strange ways."

There'd only been one person who'd ever called me baby. That, along with the mention of being lost, made a few unexpected thoughts click into place.

My throat tightened when I asked, "Is that you, Mom?"

Instead of answering my question, the familiar voice said, "Your sister needs you."

=-=-=

I did my best to ignore the hand shaking my shoulder, and clung to the last shreds of the dream. The words slipped away before I could make sense of them, leaving me with nothing but a dull ache deep in my chest.

I cracked open an eye, and saw my little sister standing over me. The moonlight peeking through the curtains in my bedroom window made a halo around her shadowed face. "Chellie?" she whispered.

As much as I wanted to pull the covers over my head, the way her voice shook got my attention. "What is it?" I asked as I propped myself up on an elbow.

"There's somethin’ in the closet again."

I closed my eye and sighed. Mom had another one of her freak-out spells the last time we visited her at the hospice. Since then, my little sister had been jumpy and skittish. Knowing there wasn’t much else I could do to get her to go back to bed, I opened both eyes and said, "Okay, just gimme a second."

Once I was awake enough to stand, I climbed out of bed. I poked around with my toes until I found my slippers, slid into them, then trudged across the hall to Sophi's bedroom. When I reached for the old wooden bat leaning against the wall by her closet, Sophi slipped her fingers around my wrist and said, "Be careful."

I smiled at the gentle way she held onto me. While being her big brother hadn't been bad, being Sophi's big sister felt extra special. I knelt beside her, and put an arm around her waist. "Don't worry. I'm always careful. Besides," I said as I tapped the bat on the floor, "I got good ol' Skull Buster with me."

A hint of a smile grew on her face. The smile fell as she said, "I'm just scared of losin' ya, like we lost Mommy."

I could barely talk around the lump in my throat as I pulled my sister close. "Don't worry. I'm never ... ever going away." I dabbed at the tear sliding down her cheek with the sleeve of my nightgown. "Understand?"

She nodded, and a bit of her smile peeked out again. I kissed her forehead as I stood up. "Okay, stand back. Time for me to bust some skulls."

Sophi snickered as she stepped back. Striking a heroic pose, I swung the bat onto my shoulder, and pulled open the closet door. I grinned at her when she giggled, then walked into the shadows.

=-=-=

The closet was darker than I'd expected. Even if the door had closed behind me, a sliver of moonlight should have showed through the crack at the bottom. I reached out for where I thought the light switch would be. My hand waved through open air.

I took a step forward, and heard a weird crunching. It reminded me of gravel, but more brittle. Thinking I might have stepped on one of Sophi's toys, I reached for the ground. Instead of finding broken plastic, I felt something ... lots of somethings ... crawling and slithering between my fingers.

When a few of the somethings started crawling up my arm, I stood and ran. A small part of me said I shouldn't be able to run in a closet. When a cold and slimy something slid across my ankle, the other parts of me said to run like hell.

Long, bony fingers wrapped around my arm. I skidded to a stop, grabbed Skull Buster with my free hand, and swung it in a wide arc. My ears rung from the high pitched screech when the bat smacked into something solid. The fingers shuddered, then dropped from my arm.

My weapon was yanked from my grip. I didn’t bother looking for it, and concentrated on moving forward. I stumbled into a damp, shaggy wall. A bitter taste rose in the back of my throat when the stink of mildew and month-old meatloaf filled my nostrils.

The wall opened. A warm, sour breeze fluttered through my hair. The ground rose and tilted. I fell forward. I kept falling. A flash of light brought tears to my eyes. I squeeze them shut. The light got brighter. Then, I heard … something. It called out to me.

=-=-=

"Michelle, wake up," said a deep, kind voice.

For a moment, I floated in the warmth of hearing my real name, then opened my eyes. I found myself lying on the floor of a brightly lit closet, with Dad crouched next to me.

"Whatcha doing in here?" I asked, then wondered why my voice felt so sore.

Sophi slipped in from behind our dad and said, "I'd heard ya scream, and got scared, so I yelled for Daddy." She looked at him and said a little more softly, "Sorry for wakin’ ya up."

As tired as he looked, there wasn't a hint of a lie in his voice when he turned to her and said, "It's okay. You did the right thing calling for me."

As the thump of my pulse slowed, the dream I'd had about Mom came back. A chill ran up my spine when I realized some of what she'd said almost made sense.

"Dad, Sophi ... I think I know where Mom goes when she has one of her spells."

My dad gave me a look. It was the look he always had when Mom went off the deep end.

"I know this sounds crazy," I said, "but ... I think I know how to bring her back."

While struggling to deal with the strangeness of what happened last night, Michelle faces a new morning, meets a mysterious woman, then has a bizarre experience with something most people might consider relatively mundane.

Dreams, Spells, and Closet Monsters - 2
Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I squinted at the pinkish-gold beams of sunlight slanting through the windows when I wandered into the kitchen the next morning. I found Sophi sitting at the table, staring into space, with a spoon held halfway to her mouth. I slumped into the chair next to my sister, rested an elbow on the table, then used that arm to prop up my head.

I nudged Sophi with my other arm and asked, "You awake?"

A soggy cornflake slipped from her spoon. She blinked when it plopped into her cereal bowl, then looked at me and made a noise that sounded vaguely like, "Huh?"

I smirked and said, "Nevermind. Just finish your breakfast."

Her mouth scrunched up to one side while she looked at me through half-open eyes. She made another noise, then dipped her already full spoon into her bowl before shoving it into her mouth. My sister yawned in the middle of chewing, then said, "Shorry," before swallowing.

I rested both arms on the table, and did my best to not yawn back as I said, "It's okay." I laced my fingers together, then asked, "Didja get any sleep at all last night?"

My sister shrugged while scooping up another spoonful of cereal.

While I was pondering what that shrug meant, Dad strode into the kitchen and said, "Good morning girls."

I smiled at those three words ... especially the last one. Even though I'd come out to our dad a long time ago, being accepted as his older daughter still felt amazing. I looked at the way he was dressed, then asked, "They making you go into work on a weekend again?"

Dad gave me a tight-lipped smile while sitting at the other side of the kitchen table, then said, "Not this weekend." When I gave him a questioning look, he added, "I'll be taking you in to see your therapist today."

I squealed while bouncing in my seat, then asked, "I'm finally gonna get interviewed for hormone blockers?"

He shook his head and said, "Sorry, sweetheart. That's still a few weeks away."

"Oh," I said while slouching in my chair. "So ... how come you're taking me in to see her?"

Dad rested one of his large, warm hands on top of mine, then said, "After what happened last night ..." His adam's apple bobbed a couple of times, then he said, "I just ... I want to make sure you're really okay."

=-=-=

Dr Kreblauski gave me a friendly smile, then leaned forward and asked, "Do you know why you're here today?"

I squirmed in my overstuffed chair. "I guess ... 'cause Dad thinks I'm crazy?"

My therapist placed her tablet on the low table between us and asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Well ... " I said while trying to think of something that didn't sound crazy, "I've been having them dreams again."

"About your mother?" she asked in a neutral tone.

I sighed with relief. We'd already talked about the dreams I'd been having over the past month, so I felt relatively safe when I said, "Yeah."

"Were you able to remember any details from this one?"

My shoulders tightened as I said, "Sorta."

"What do you re--" she started asking before being interrupted by her beeping tablet. A message appeared on its screen, but my therapist picked it up before I could read anything. After tapping the display a few times, her brows lowered as she said, "That's ... unexpected."

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing serious," she said as she stood, "but I need to go take care of something." She walked out of her office in a way that made me wonder how serious 'nothing serious' actually was. "I'll be right back," she said while closing the door.

Almost as soon as my therapist had left, the door opened without making a sound. A woman in a grey business suit walked in, then sat in the chair across from me. Something made a faint clicking noise when she pressed the side of her mirrored glasses with a slender finger.

While I was trying to figure out what was going on, she asked, "Are you Michelle Elise Lynsdel?"

I stared at the stranger, then asked, "Who the heck are you?"

The woman frowned and said, "Without name verification, I can't provide that information."

I frowned back and said, "You can't just barge in here, and start asking questions, without even saying who you are!"

"I was warned you'd be a handful," she said. One side of her mouth turned up in what almost looked like a smile. "You'll need this," she said while placing a black card on the table in front of me. When I picked up the card, she said, "Keep that someplace safe," then stood and walked out of the room. The door closed as quietly as it had opened.

After a few seconds, I gave up trying to figure out what had just happened, and looked at the card. It said P.A.C.T. in bold, grey letters on the left side, and had a square made up of a jumble of white dots on the right side. I slipped it into my skirt pocket behind my phone when the office door cricked opened again.

Dr Kreblauski's smile looked forced when she entered the room and said, "Sorry for being away for so long." After sitting where the stranger had been less than a minute ago, my therapist asked, "Shall we continue our session?"

=-=-=

Sophi dozed off on the way home. While I was checking the straps on her booster seat, Dad asked, "She doing okay?"

I glanced at the back of our dad's head, then looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror and said, "Yeah, she just had a rough night."

Dad had a meaningful look in his eyes when he said, "So did you."

I couldn't think of a good come-back, so I shrugged and sighed instead.

Of course, that didn't stop him from asking, "Are you doing okay?"

I shrugged again and said, "I guess so."

When we stopped at a traffic light, he looked over his shoulder and asked, "Do you remember what your therapist said about keeping things bottled up?"

I folded my hands in my lap, then studied the pale pink polish on my nails while saying, "Yeah."

Dad reached under my chin, then tilted my head up and said, "I know you're going through a lot, but you don't have to go through it alone." His eyes glistened in the late morning sunlight when he said, "While I may not understand everything that's happening with you, I promise, I'll always be here to listen to whatever you're willing to share."

"Thank you," I said a moment before the car behind us started beeping.

Dad gave me a smile that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He faced forward and started across the intersection after the car behind us blared their horn for several seconds. His focus seemed to be more on the road than me after that, which meant I had more time to ponder while he drove us home.

The ache in my chest came back when I thought about the dream I'd had about Mom. Even though it had been strange, it had also felt more real than an ordinary dream. Then there was the dream I'd had while in Sophi's closet.

Or had it been a dream? Even though I didn't remember falling asleep, I did wake up in the closet after a very weird ... experience? Having a stranger walk in and hand me a card while my therapist was away had been weird too. Had that been a dream as well?

I reached into my pocket, and felt the stiff cardboard rectangle resting against the smooth plastic of my phone. I pulled out the black card and looked it over again. There was just the one word on the front, along with the odd square beside it. I flipped it over and found a shiny silver circle in the top left corner, but nothing happened when I touched it.

I took another look at the front. While I had no idea what P.A.C.T. stood for, the pattern of dots in the square seemed familiar. I fished my phone out of my pocket and started up an image search app. After I scanned the card, a window with a progress bar popped up on my phone, with the word "processing" above it.

I frowned when the progress bar froze, then grumbled under my breath when nothing else on my phone seemed to be working. The screen on my phone went blank after I held the power button for a couple of seconds. Rather than restarting when I let go of the button, my phone began vibrating.

Sophi groaned, then asked, "Whazzat noise?"

"It's just my phone," I said while pressing the power button again. Instead of turning off, the screen lit up with a deep red glow, and the buzzing got louder. I bit my lip and panicked a little when my phone started heating up.

"Did that girl from school get past your call blocker again?" my dad asked from the front seat.

"No," I said while staring at my phone, "It's just--" I started saying, then paused when the screen switched from red to grey. Large, white text that said [Reconfiguration Complete] appeared in the middle of the screen.

"Just what?" Dad asked.

"Umm ..." I said when the screen went blank. I tried pressing the power button on my phone again, and it started up like it normally did, so I said, "Something weird happened when I tried doing an image search, but I think it's okay now."

The back of Dad's head moved in a way that might have been a nod, then he said, "You may want to use your security app to check for malware."

"Okay," I said as I slipped the mysterious card and my cooling phone back into my skirt pocket.

While his advice made sense, some unexplainable dread chilled my bones when I thought of doing what he'd suggested. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as what happened last night, but I wasn't willing to take any chances.

I leaned back in my leatherette seat and closed my eyes, then silently wished the rest of today would be an ordinary, quiet, Saturday. That wasn't too much to hope for ... right?

FPI -- Frilly Pantied Investigator / Chapter 1

Copyright 2018 by Heather Rose Brown

I had the idea for this story a long, long time ago, and it's one of my favorites! I still don't have an ending, but I do finally have an idea where it might go, so I rewrote the beginning here, and am working on adding a few more chapters. Enjoy!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I had spread a brand new box of crayons around my coloring book, and was trying to decide if My Little Pony's mane should be orchid or lavender, when I heard the faint, unmistakable scritch of the lock to my apartment being picked. More out of instinct than any specific plan of action, I rolled towards my bedroom door, slid into a standing position, flattened myself against the wall, and switched off the light.

The almost imperceptible hiss of a muffled mini-saw slicing through my deadbolt with a well lubricated whisper blade told me I wasn't dealing with an amateur. Reaching under my skirt, I silently swore at the layers of lace before I found my weapon in the holster strapped around my carefully shaved thigh.

On the one hand, wearing a gun under a frilly, baby blue party dress felt odd ... even odder than wearing the dress. On the other hand, years of service in the Bureau had made carrying a weapon second nature to me; I felt naked without it. Before I could start getting seriously bitter about my forced "retirement", the sharp snick of a chain being cut snapped my attention back to the present.

The door creaked noisily as it opened. It was a creak I had purposely fostered for such an occasion. Light flooded the entry hall, followed by a shadow, which was my uninvited guest's first real mistake. My heart thumped under my ribcage as the shadow approached. An ancient floorboard in the hallway let out a low groan, and the shadow froze outside my door.

I held my breath, and hoped the thunder of my pulse could't been heard. The mother-of-pearl handle of my firearm was beginning to feel slick in my sweaty grip. After wiping a palm as quietly as anyone can on a starched linen apron, I shot an arm around the door frame, grabbed what felt like a handful of collar, and yanked hard.

Before he could react, I slammed him against the door, and shoved my weapon in his face. Yes ... I said he, him, and his. The hair and body language suggested female, but the general shape I could see under his heavy overcoat said male. At that particular moment, I was too pissed to be politically correct.

"Okay buddy," I said in a hoarse whisper, "you're seriously cutting into my playtime. Tell me who you are, and what you're doing here, before you're neck winds up enjoying a pleasant breeze."

My captive mumbled incoherently around a mouthful of steel. Realizing my mistake, I pulled the muzzle back a few inches. "Okay, try that again."

"Richard ... is that really you?"

I lifted the muzzle and pressed it against his forehead. "I'm the one asking the questions. So lets try this again. Who are you?"

"D-Don't you recognize me? It's your old boss, Barry."

I took a second look, and realized he was telling the truth. My former supervisor went cross-eyed as I released the safety. "You're not giving me a very good reason to not blow your head off."

"Please, I n-need your help."

"After the crap you put me through, you've got the nerve to come asking for help? Why the hell should I?"

"J-just. ..." Barry paused and closed his eyes. "Just open my coat. It'll explain everything."

I undid the top two buttons. Underneath, I found a pink peter-pan collar trimmed in white eyelet lace. "Okay," I said as I reset the safety and took a step back, "you've got my attention."

A sharp, hot pain blossomed at the back of my neck as he opened his mouth. If he said anything, I never heard it. I was too busy cursing the stupidity of leaving even part of my back exposed to an open door, and too numb to feel anything when I collapsed like a sack of majorette batons.

FPI -- Frilly Pantied Investigator / Chapter 2

Copyright 2018 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, our protagonist wakes in the dominion of a mysterious woman, and discovers an unexpected side to his former supervisor.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

My head was throbbing when I woke. The blinding light burning through my eye sockets wasn't helping. I tried using my hand to block out the glare, which was when I realized it was bound somewhere above my head.

"Good," said a voice that slid through the air like a shark fin gliding through water. "You're both awake now."

I squinted and turned my head towards the voice, but could only make out the silhouette of a tall, curvaceous figure. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

The figure jiggled to a deep, yet unmistakably feminine chuckle. "I rarely respond to such impertinent questions from someone in your ... position."

The shadowy apparition approached, transforming into a beautiful, raven-haired woman when she stepped into the light. "Still, I consider myself a courteous hostess, so I'll make an exception. You may refer to me as Madam X, or Mistress."

She leaned closer, enveloping me in a perfume for which a thousand muskrats must had died. Her warm breath tickled my ear when she whispered, "What I want, is answers."

"Ah," I said while trying to not breathe through my nose. "That's an easy one. It's forty-two."

Confusion flitted across her expression for a moment, then a cruel grin crept into the corners her blood red lips. "So ... you want to play games?" A twinkle in her eyes made me envy any prehistoric mammals still frozen in glaciers. "I am *very* good at games."

Hearing a piteous moan to my right, I lifted my head as far as I could, then peered over my arm. My barbiturate encumbered brain could only categorize what I saw as an unusually tall little girl, who's wrists and ankles were fastened to the corners of a table by padded metal cuffs.

Reality popped back into something more familiar, if not entirely rational, when I recognized my former boss’s voice coming out of the girl's mouth. "Please," he said to the woman looming over me, "you promised not to involve anybody else!"

Madam X stood up and turned to her other captive, then said in a soft, lilting voice, "Sweetie, if you'd only been more discreet in performing your task, I would have been able to keep that promise."

"I can still do it on my own," he said as he began to tremble. A whimper crept into his voice as he added, "Honest!"

As much as I'd hated Barry for his part in getting me fired, I couldn't help appreciating him trying to talk me out of whatever he was wrapped up in, and it was hard to be mad at someone on the edge of tears. I turned to his tormentor and shouted, "What the hell are you making him do?"

There was a blur, followed by a sharp pain on my cheek. Madam X lowered her hand as she said in a cold, no-nonsense voice, "Little girls are *not* to use such language."

While considering a searing rebuttal to the "little girl" comment, I glanced down, and realized I was still wearing my dress. Deciding my sermon on the careless use of gender specific identifiers might not be on the firmest ground, I shifted tactics. "I'm sorry," I said in the meekest voice I could manage.

Cavities began forming in my molars when she switch tone and said, "Of course, sweetheart. We'll say nothing more of the slip. It's already forgotten."

I was having trouble wrapping my head around this woman. I didn't have enough first hand experience with dominatrices to really know if she fit more than my stereotypical image of one. On the other hand, I had met enough nuts in my line of work to be able to say she was a whole bagful.

"Mistress?" I asked, hoping all the practice I'd done in private made my attempt at a shy little girl voice sound sincere, if not authentic.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it okay to ask ... why were we brought here?"

"To do what every little girl dreams of doing ..."

She held up a hand, and snapped her fingers twice. Purple blotches swam across my eyes like psychedelic jellyfish in the darkness that followed. There was the click of stiletto heels on a hardwood floor, then a moment of silence before a spotlight shone on small table.

Our hostess's voice sounded tinny, and seemed to be coming from several locations at once as she said "... having a tea party!"

FPI -- Frilly Pantied Investigator / Chapter 3

Copyright 2019 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, names are named, genders are reconsidered, and something ceramic tumbles to its doom.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A harsh buzz was followed by several mechanical snicks. My hands tingled as blood rushed back into them, but they weren’t too numb to notice the velvety lining of the restraints as I drew my arms out.

Eager to take advantage of my freedom, I lurched forward. My headache followed, thundering like a bass drum being played from the inside. I wrapped my arms across my stomach when it sloshed like a sewer rat trying to claw out of a colostomy bag.

"What the heee--ello kitty did you drug me with?" I asked, scrambling to cover a swear word as my most recent meal tried to escape.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” said the annoyed voice of our captor through hidden speakers. In a more pleasant voice, she added, “While the sedative administered was powerful, it was precisely measured to last the specific amount of time needed, and the after-effects should fade after a minute or so. Just sit still, and you'll soon be ready for your party."

I wasn’t about to let a minor thing like vertigo get in my way, and leapt to my feet with cat-like reflexes. Unfortunately, it was a cat who's kibble had been spiked with one too many shots of whiskey, and I tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, and petticoats.

I could hear a smile in the mistress’s voice as she said, “Tammy, would you be a lamb, and help your little friend to her feet?”

While struggling to find a less prone position, I noticed a soft, flowery scent. I turned towards the sweet aroma, and saw Barry crouching down beside me. “Take it slow", he said as he pulled my skirt back down below my waistline. In a much quieter voice he said, "I'm so, so sorry for getting you involved in this, Richard.”

Despite the murderous feelings I'd harbored in the past, it was difficult to apply those emotions to the kinder, gentler person who was helping me now. I reached up and brushed the bangs of his wig out of his eyes as I said, "It's Rebeccah."

His expression began changing from utter misery to much more utter confusion. I could almost smell the smoke from his brain straining to form a coherent thought before he finally said, "What?"

I allowed myself a small smile as I answered, "That's my name when I'm dressed like this, but you can call me Becky if you'd like."

I accepted the offered hand, pausing only a moment as I recovered from my surprise at how soft it felt. I was a bit steadier once my feet back under me, but my mind was whirling with questions. I started with the simplest one as I said, “Sooo ... you go by Tammy?”

Tammy's face lit up when I said her name. And yes, I’m switching pronouns. There didn’t seem to be any he-ness about the person beside me. Deal with it.

I wasn't able to get more than a nod from her before my interrogation was cut short by Madam X’s firm voice. “Come along now, girls. The tea is getting cold. You can continue chit-chatting once it's been poured.”

Tammy jumped to attention like a private being barked at by sergeant-major-general, then grabbed my arm before running to the table. Being rather attached to that particular appendage, I was soon stumbling in the same direction.

I tried to ignore the rub burn when she let go, and concentrated on being outraged when I said, "What the hhh--elium do you think you're doing?"

My comrade in crinoline froze. "I'm so sorry," she said. "For a moment,I thought you were ... someone else." A shimmering crystal bead formed in the corner of her eye. "But now she's gone."

Several tears trickled down her cheeks when she squeezed her eyes shut, then then blindly reached for the tea tray as she said, "and it's all my fff ... it's my fa-fau..." Her long sleeve caught on the filigree handle of a teacup, sending it rolling across the table.

I said a silent prayer to the gods of all porcelain products while reaching for the cup, then mumbled something rude in Klingon when it bounced off the tips of my fingers.

In this chapter, our hero learns about clothes and expectations.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I was following my mom down the aisle that divided the children's clothing department in half, when the shopping cart she was pushing shuddered to a stop. She muttered something under her breath, and the cart rattled as she tried to shake it loose.

After a few tense moments, one of the wheels squealed before unlocking. Mom took in a deep breath, relaxed her grip on the cart as she breathed out, then looked over her shoulder and smiled at me.

"Come on, sweetie," she said as she started moving again. "Stay close. Don't want you getting lost."

I looked up at my mom, who seemed taller than usual, and tried to think of a sarcastic response. Nothing especially clever came to mind. I groaned and rolled my eyes, then ran a hand across the rough fabric of the jeans lining the aisle as I shuffled behind her.

Mom managed to keep the wheel from locking again when she turned and guided the cart between rows of dress shirts and suit jackets. She stopped in front of a rack of t-shirts, then turned to me and said, "I know your school allows casual wear for first graders, but see if you can find something nice here."

"Can't ya just pick somethin' for me?" I asked as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Sweet heart, we already talked about this. You're getting to be a big boy now, and need to start making some choices on your own."

I bristled at the 'big boy' line, but I knew trying to get my mom to stop treating me like a little kid was a losing battle. "Whatever," I said while glaring at the t-shirts.

"Okay," Mom said as she patted my shoulder. "I'll be over by the sweaters, so bring whatever you find over there when you're done. Alright?"

I shrugged and made a non-committal noise. Mom's hand dropped from my shoulder. I could feel her disapproving look boring into my back.

I braced myself for a lecture, but all I heard was a sigh, which was almost worse. Guilt tinted the wave of relief I felt when the rattle of her shopping cart faded.

I dove into the job before me, and didn't realize someone else was looking through the same stuff as me until we bumped shoulders.

"Oops! Sorry," I said as I turned. The rest of my apology got caught at the back of my throat when the girl I'd bumped into smiled at me.

"Hey!" she said as her smile grew. "Ya got sent over here too?"

"Ummm ..." I said while waiting for my brain to kick back into gear.

She nodded, as if the sound that had come out of my mouth had made perfect sense. "Me too," she added as she went back to rooting through the clothes again. "I know boy shirts is cheaper, but ain't these colors awful?"

I took another look at the rack in front of me. There was a rainbow of mostly browns and greys, with a few other colors mixed in that were too bland to have a name.

"Yeah," I said before my throat closed up again.

"There's lots nicer stuff 'cross the aisle. Wanna see?"

My curiosity battled with my shyness for a moment. My curiosity won, and I said, "Sure!"

"C'mon," she said as she skipped out of the boys department.

I followed close behind her, paused at the edge of the white linoleum tiles, then crossed before my courage completely drained away. I grinned when I found myself surrounded by colors ranging from pastel to neon, rather than blech to ugh.

"Ain't these awesome!" said the girl as she disappeared behind a rack of frilly shirts. Before I could build up enough nerve to do more than look, she returned with an armful of clothes.

"Wish I could get all these," she said as she flipped through the hangers dangling from her arm. "Oh, I found somethin' perfect for ya!"

I looked down when she whipped out a shirt and held it against my chest. It was a warm, honey colored t-shirt with tiny white flowers on it. When I ran a hand down the front, it felt like the cotton shirts I normally wore, but lighter and softer.

"Wait," I said as I pulled my hand away. "I can't wear this."

The girl tilted her head to the side. "How come?"

"I dunno," I said, even though I did know the answer.

She hung the hanger the shirt was on from my wrist as she said, "Then give it a try,"

"But ... I can't change here!"

She patted my arm and said, "Ya ain't gotta take nothin' off. Just pull it over whatcha got on."

What she said made sense. It definitely made more sense than wearing things I didn't like, just because I was a boy. Panic fluttered in my chest as I pulled the shirt off its hanger. "It's just a shirt," I said under my breath as I wriggled my hands through the armholes.

"Tommy!" my mom shouted from somewhere nearby.

I tried pulling off the shirt, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, and started sliding down my arms.

"Thomas Kayleigh Tracy!" she shouted again. My stomach flip-flopped at the sound of my full name,

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said through the cloth covering my face.

I felt her firm grip on my arm. "What are you sorry for?"

"I just..." I said as a lump grew in my throat.

"Tommy," Mom said, sounding more confused than angry as she shook my arm.

"I'm just ... just ... sorry," I said while willing away the tears threatening to well up.

"Tommy," she said as she shook my arm again. "Come on, honey. Wake up!" ¹

=-=-=

A few cars whizzed by when I opened my eyes. I rolled my head to the side, and saw my mom trying to concentrate on the road while giving me worried glances.

She lifted her hand from my arm, then brushed the hair out of my eyes. "You have another bad dream?"

"Not really," I said, feeling only a little guilty for the lie. With great honesty comes great risk, and I didn't want her to ask my therapist to talk to me about the dream again.

"Then why were you saying sorry?"

"Oh," I said, trying to think fast with a brain that wanted to go back to sleep. "I meant, I was sorry for ... uhhh ... forgetting my uniform. I mean, not being able to find it."

Mom gave me a skeptical look. "Did you look through all the boxes the movers left in your room?"

"Umm ... I think so." To be fair, while I'd been too tired to do a thorough search, I had looked through all my boxes.

Mom gritted her teeth as she made a sharp turn, then relaxed a little as she said, "Tommy, I know you don't like the idea of wearing a uniform, but after what happened at your old school ..."

A spark of anger flared as I asked, "Ya talking 'bout the school that kicked me out, 'cause I stood up to somebody who was making fun of me?"

Mom didn't say anything as she pulled up to the curb, and spent more time than she usually needed to park. There was a long, awkward silence in the car after she turned off the engine.

"Honey," she said as she turned to me, "we've already gone over this before. Your new school is the only one I could find that was at a reasonable commuting distance from my work. Unfortunately, it has different requirements from your old school."

"Ya mean, like wearing uniforms, and marching down the halls, like a buncha zombie robots?"

Mom grinned and said, "I'm not sure if you can be both a zombie and a robot, but I'm pretty certain there won't be any marching in the halls. But, as for the rest ... well ..."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, I get it. Follow the rules. Wear the uniform. Watch my temper. Don't cause trouble. Stuff like that. Right?"

Mom leaned close, and I flinched when she kissed my cheek. "Moooommm," I said as I looked out the passenger window. Fortunately, the only person I saw was a kid standing near the front doors of a low, brick-faced building.

"Don't worry," Mom said as she scrubbed at the side of my face with her thumb. "I checked first to make sure no other students were close enough to see."

"I didn't mean ..." I said, while trying to think of something that wouldn't hurt her feelings. "I mean ... it's just ... well, ya know."

"Yes dear. I know. You're in middle school now. I'm not so old that I've forgotten what it was like coping with the kind of peer pressure I had to deal with at your age."

I saw the mix of hope and sadness in Mom's eyes. Feeling like a total jerk for causing the sad part, I reached out and touched her hand as I said, "I'm sorry for ... well ... everything."

Mom unhitched my seatbelt, then pulled me close. "Shhhh. It's okay. You did nothing wrong."

I didn't exactly cry while she held me, but I was sniffling a little when she let go. "Thanks Mom. I kinda really needed to hear that."

Mom smiled and pulled a tissue from her purse before handing it to me. After I blew my nose, she said, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now head on out there, and have the best first day of school ever!"

=-=-=
Footnotes:
¹ This footnote marks the end of the dream Tommy is having about when he was six, and went on a shopping trip before starting first grade. When he wakes up in the car, he's eleven, and is in his first year in middle school. I hope this clears up some confusion about how old Tommy is. If you have any other questions, feel free to send me a private message, or leave a comment below.

In this chapter, our hero runs into a hall monitor, and school policies.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

My heart was thumping as I climbed out of the car. I scanned the front of the school while closing the car door, and snapped my eyes shut when the one kid I saw looked directly at me.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Mom shouted from behind me.

After checking to make sure nothing had burst out of my rib cage, I turned and crouched down. "What's up?" I asked in the calmest voice I could manage.

My mom reached through the open window, and held out a card. "This is your student ID. It arrived in the mail Saturday when the movers were loading up the truck. Sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier."

I nodded and smiled as I pocketed the card. "No worries. Have a good day at work!"

"I will," Mom said as she started up the car. "You have a good day too!"

I waved as she pulled away, then turned back to the school. There was still someone standing outside the front door. At first glance, I thought I was looking at a guy. When I risked a longer look, the skirted uniform, and the curves underneath, told me I was wrong ... probably.

A cool breeze brushed my hair against the back of my neck. A few dry, reddish-brown leaves skittered across my path as I strode up the winding concrete walkway. I didn't find anything to pull when I reached the entrance, so I gave pushing a try, but the door didn't budge.

"Ya gotta tap to get in," said a voice that sounded both friendly and authoritative.

I turned to the voice, and saw the girl I'd been trying to avoid. My knees wobbled when she smiled at me. I tried asking what she meant, but no sound came out.

"Ya new here?" she asked as dimples joined her smile.

Her plaid skirt and long, black hair billowed in a gust of wind while I tried to speak. After half a dozen agonizing seconds, I decided my voice was stuck on pause, and answered with a nod.

"I figured. Didja bring your student ID?"

I made a garbled noise that was supposed to sound like, "Yeah," as I dug into a pocket. My numb fingers nearly dropped my card as I handed it over.

She gave my ID card a quick look. "Tracy Thomas?"

It sounded weird hearing my last name first, but I didn't have the nerve to correct her, so I nodded again.

Nice to meetcha," she said while bringing my card up to a plastic box attached to the door frame. "Just gotta hold your card against the scanner to get in." The scanner beeped when she touched it with my card, and the doors slid open.

"I'm Richelle," she said as she stepped inside. "Better get in here before the doors close."

I dashed between the doors as they whooshed together, and stumbled into her. I felt something soft against my cheek, then blushed when I realized what I'd bumped into.

"Sorry," I said as I backed up, then lost my footing when I smacked my skull into the door.

She caught me by the shoulders, held on until I got my feet under me again, then said, "You okay?"

"Urmm ... yeah," I said as I looked at my toes. "Sorry for being so clumsy, Richelle."

She reached under my chin, and tilted my head up, until I was looking into her gentle, golden-brown eyes. "It's all good," she said, "and you can call me Richie, if you'd like."

When I remembered how to breathe again, I said, "Umm ... I better get to class."

Her bronze cheeks reddened as her hand dropped. "Oh yeah, you're right. Ya know which homeroom you're in?"

"Uhhh ... no?"

"Ah," Richie said as she held out the sash draped over her shoulder, "that's what hall monitors are for. Follow me!" she called out as she headed down the hallway.

I had to jog to keep up with her long-legged stride, and was half out of breath by the time we stopped.

"Here we are!" she said as she opened a door.

It took me a second before I realized she was holding the door for me. "Oh! Um, thanks," I said as I stepped through.

"De nada," Richie said as she returned my card. "I'm still on duty, so I gotta head back to my post. Ms Etcherson over there should be able to help get ya set up." She gave me a lopsided grin when she let go of the door.

"Welcome to Saint Milton's Middle School," she said as the door closed. I caught the start of a wink before the latch clicked shut.

=-=-=

I was staring at the closed door, trying to figure out how to deal with being winked at by a girl who had some sorta guy vibe, when a no-nonsense voice said, "Good morning."

I turned and saw a woman sitting behind a tall desk that stretched from one side of the room to the other. The clatter of her typing stopped, and she looked over the top of her glasses as she asked, "May I help you?"

"Oh yeah," I said as I approached her. "You Miss Etcherson?"

"That's Ms Etcherson, not Miss."

"Sorry," I said as I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I meant, are ya Ms Etcherson?"

"That's correct. May I see your student ID?"

I pulled the hand that held my ID out of a pocket. "Here ya go," I said as I laid my card on the desk.

She picked the card up with the tips of her long, pink fingernails, examined it a moment, then asked, "Are you Tracy Thomas?"

I frowned and said, "Actually, it's Thomas Tracy."

Ms Etcherson waved my card over the scanner sitting on the desk, did a few mouse clicks, then handed my ID back to me. "Everything in our system indicates you're Tracy Thomas. We have no records of a Thomas Tracy, or a Tracy comma Thomas."

"Who'd have Comma as a middle name?"

A small crease formed between her pinched brows. "What I meant was, when a last name is listed first, there's usually a comma between the last and first name. Our records show no comma in your file."

I took a close look at my card. Sure enough, it showed my last name first, and no commas were to be found anywhere. "But ... but, there's gotta be some mistake."

"I'll send a confirmation request to your previous school," she said as she began typing. "Until we hear back from them, we won't be able to make any updates to your file."

"What? Really?"

"I'm sorry," she said as she looked up from her computer screen. Her voice softened when she said, "I know how rough it can be starting off in a new school, but our policies are there for a reason."

"Okay," I said as my shoulders slumped.

Ms Etcherson gave me a comforting smile, then said, "Let's concentrate on getting you settled in. Did you receive your uniform?"

"Well ... yeah, but I couldn't find it this morning."

"You lost your uniform on your first day?" she asked as her eyes widened.

"Not exactly. A UPX guy dropped off the package ya sent on Friday, when we was getting ready to move. I 'member tossing it in a box with with some other stuff, but I ain't been able find my uniform in any of the boxes we've unpacked so far."

"Ah, I see," she said as she gave me a knowing nod. "What size clothes do you wear?"

"I dunno. Maybe ... medium?"

"I can work with that. Do you know your shoe size?"

"Um, lemme check," I said as I bent down and began untying one of my sneakers.

"Never mind. I've got a pretty good eye for shoe sizes."

"Whatcha need my sizes for?" I asked as I retied my sneaker.

"School policy," she said in a muffled voice.

When I stood up again, nobody was behind the desk. "Hello," I said as I looked around. "Ya there, Ms Etcherson?"

A hand popped over the edge of the desk, and dropped a package of clothes in front of me. "I'm right here," she said. "Just give me a minute."

I rocked on my heels while listening to the rustling behind the desk. After a couple of minutes, Ms Etcherson stood up with a pair of black shoes in her hands, which she placed beside the clothes.

I stared at the shoes.

After a few seconds, I said, "I can't wear those."

"Do they look too big?" she asked.

"No, it's just-"

"Oh, so they're too little?"

"No, it ain't that. It's just they're ..."

"Too dressy?"

"Well, I guess they are, but what I meant was-"

"If you're trying to indicate you'd rather wear your current footwear," she said as a sliver of frustration slipped into her voice, "I need to let you know, this school has a strict dress code. Athletic shoes are only permitted during physical education classes. In all other classes, more formal footwear is required."

"But ... but I can't wear these."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "And why exactly is that?"

"'Cause they're girl shoes!"

"And?"

"And?!" I screeched, the stress of disbelief making my voice rise an octave. "And," I said as I held out my arms, "I ain't a girl!"

Ms Etcherson looked at her computer screen, then swiveled it around towards me as she said, "Not according to our records."

I scanned down a couple of lines, then gasped when I saw what it said in the gender field. "What the-!" I choked down the swear word. "There's gotta be some mistake. Can't ya tell I'm a guy just by looking at me?"

"Unfortunately, due to recent additions to school policy, no staff members are allowed to make any assumptions about a students gender based on appearance, behavior, or any other related criteria."

My jaw hung open as I tried to make sense of what I'd heard. "That's ... that's crazy! What do I gotta do to prove I'm a boy?"

"School policy requires a Gender Affirmation form, signed by a parent or legal guardian, before a student's gender can be updated in our records." She turned her screen back around. "I don't see any indication such a form has been submitted."

When my fingers curled up, I was reminded of something my therapist had said. After imagining all my frustration gathering into my fists, I opened my hands, and visualized the negative emotions drifting to the ground.

Once I was more under control, I said. "I understand ya need to follow policy. Is there anyone else I could speak to, who might be able to change my file, so it shows I'm a boy?"

"In some special cases, policy amendments can be made by the school principal."

"Great! Can I talk to him?"

"Mrs McCrudger is not a him," she said in a cold voice as she tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "At the moment, she's in the middle of a conference call, and can't be disturbed."

The clear plastic bag crinkled when I grabbed the clothes. "Okay," I said as I picked up the shoes with my other hand, "I'll try coming back after my first class. Could ya tell me where that is?"

"Before you go to class, you'll need to change into your uniform."

"Okay. Fine. I'll wear the stupid shoes."

"And the rest of the uniform."

I thought about what I'd said to my mom about wearing uniforms and following rules, sighed, then said, "Yeah, I'll wear the whole thing. Is there someplace I can change?"

Ms Etcherson pointed to a door at the far end of the room. "You can use the visitor restroom. It's single use, so you can lock the door for privacy while changing."

I gave her a nod, trudged towards the restroom, and tried to shake off the feeling that life as I'd known it would never be the same again.

In this chapter, our hero does some reflecting, and meets a principal character.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

After locking the bathroom door, I walked over to the sink. The black leather shoes clunked, the clothes package whuffed, and my ID card clattered when I dropped them on the counter. I took a hard look at myself in the mirror. The person looking back wasn't muscular, or hairy, or any of the other stuff that gets dumped on you when you hit puberty.

"Could I really get away with this?" I asked my reflection.

The dream I'd had in the car came back to me. I thought again about the time I'd been taken clothes shopping when I was six. The girl I'd met there didn't treat me like a boy. She'd even encouraged me to try on something from the girl's department. Of course, she had looked to be around the same age I'd been. I wasn't sure how the tween-aged kids in my new school were going to react.

"Well," I said as I peeled open the package, "there's a sure fire way of finding out."

A pink plastic bag slipped out, slid across the counter, and bumped against the mirror. Next came a white shirt, a red and blue plaid skirt, and a matching strip of cloth. No pants were to be found anywhere. I flipped over the bag. It had 'Undergarments' written in black, curly letters across the top.

"I guess this counts as part of the uniform," I said before tearing open the bag. I pulled out a long pair of socks, something that looked like a tank top, and some panties. All of them were white, and none of them were especially frilly, but they also didn't look like anything a boy would wear.

Except, maybe, for me.

I thought about some of the times I'd been harassed by other kids for wearing stuff that was 'too girly'. Girls seemed to get to wear whatever they wanted. But if my coat was the wrong style, or my shirt had flowers on it, or my pants were the wrong color, everybody freaked out!

I ran my fingers through my hair as I thought of the most recent incident. It was barely long enough to touch my shoulders, but some idiot had decided to harass me about my hair anyway. I'd already been in a bad mood, and lost my temper, which led to getting into another fight, which led to getting ... expelled.

I swallowed the pain climbing up my throat, and looked at the clothes spread out in front of me. "Dammit," I said in a hoarse whisper. "If this is what I gotta do to keep outta trouble, then let's do it."

=-=-=

I was shivering once I'd stripped everything off, both from nervousness, as well as the cold tiles on my bare feet. I picked up the panties, stepped through the leg holes, and pulled them up over my hips. The material they were made of was thin, and they didn't have a flap in the front. Besides that, they weren't all that different from the underpants I'd been wearing a minute ago.

Except for a tiny white bow in the front, the top was as plain as the panties. It had a stretchy band, which pressed against my ribs, but not in an uncomfortable way. The socks were both silky and cottony. My legs tingled as I slid them up to my knees.

I glanced at the mirror. A sharp pang of guilt ran through me when I saw a girl in her underwear, followed by a mild dose of confusion. "Oh jeez," I said as I looked away. "Dr Zigler's gonna have a field day with this one."

The long-sleeved shirt had rounded collars, but didn't feel much different from any other shirt I'd worn when I put it on. Something about the buttons on the shirt felt backwards, and it took a couple of fumbling attempts before I figured them out. I had picked up the skirt, and was trying to decide which side was the front, when someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked as I scrambled to pull on the skirt.

"It's Mrs McCrudger, the school principal," said a deep, yet feminine voice. "Ms Etcherson sent me a message about an issue you may be having with your uniform. May I come in?"

"Hold on a sec," I said as I yanked at the waistband. Once the skirt felt more or less in place, I unlocked and opened the door. "Come on in."

An older woman holding a red backpack smiled at me from the doorway. She gave me a fast up and down look, then said, "Your skirt is a little askew." She stepped in and closed the door. "Would you mind if I helped?" she asked as she leaned the backpack against a wall.

I looked down at my skirt, and realized I had no idea what might be wrong. Not knowing what askew meant probably wasn't doing me any favors. "Actually," I said as I looked back up, "I'd appreciate any help I can get."

My breath caught in my throat when she hooked her thumbs into my waistband. I flashed to a moment when somebody had pulled down my jeans, saying he wanted to see my panties. Fortunately, I'd never been brave enough to wear girl's underthings. At least, not before today.

I froze in place when Ms McCrudger shifted the skirt around my waist. The snap of elastic against my stomach when she let go reminded me to breathe again.

"Are you okay?" she asked while giving me an unreadable look.

"I guess so," I said as I shrugged. "It's just been a long time since anybody helped me get dressed."

"Oh," she said as she took a step back. "I do apologize. I'll let you tuck in your blouse on your own."

It took a quick think before my brain translated blouse into shirt, which I began tucking into my waistband.

While I was busy with that, Ms McCrudger picked the shoes up from the counter. "Here you go," she said as she placed them with a couple of sharp clicks on the tile floor.

"Thanks," I said as I shoved my feet into the shoes. It took some effort pushing against the straps across the top of my feet, but the shoes weren't too bad once I had them on.

The principal frowned, but a smile was lifting a corner of her mouth. "Next time, you may want to undo the buckles before you put on your shoes."

"Oh, ermmm ... sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay," she said as the other corner of her mouth lifted. "Mistakes can become useful experiences, if we learn from them."

I picked up the strip of cloth that was sitting on the counter, held it out to the principal, then said, "Speaking of learning, could ya tell me what this is?"

"Ah," she said, "that's your crossover tie. Just slip it under your collar, cross one end over the other, and press the snaps together."

"Got it," I said, and managed getting it under my collar with no problem. The next part was trickier, and I went cross-eyed trying to see where the snaps were. "Ermmm ... could ya gimme a hand with this?"

Mrs McCrudger smiled and said, "Of course," as she reached for the tie. She did something under my chin, and I felt more than heard something snap closed at the base of my throat.

"That's kinda tight," I said in a stifled voice.

"Sorry about that," she said as she reached under my collar.

After a moment, the tie loosened, and I sighed with relief. "Thank you!"

Mrs McCrudger smiled while adjusting my collar. "Does anything else about your uniform feel uncomfortable?"

I was tempted to say, 'Everything'. Instead, I said, "Well, it does feel different from what I'm used to wearing."

The principal nodded as she said, "It can take some time to get used to wearing a uniform." She picked up the backpack, and held it out to me. "This should be big enough to hold your clothes from home."

"Thanks," I said as I accepted it, then kneeled by the pile of clothes I'd dropped on the floor. When I unzipped the backpack, it fell open, and something heavy in the front pocket smacked against my thigh. I unzipped the pocket, and found a tablet inside. "Somebody forget this?" I asked as I held it up to the principal.

"Actually," Mrs McCrudger said as she bent down, "all students at this school receive one of those." She pressed a button on the side of the tablet, and the face lit up, displaying several rows of icons. "This is the emergency call application," she said as she pointed to a phone icon. "It allows you to reach school security, the police, the fire department, and other emergency services."

I touched the icon, and a window with a bunch of phone numbers opened. "Huh," I said as I scrolled through the numbers. "I guess this could come in handy, but couldn't I just call 911 on my phone if there's an emergency?"

The principal stood up, crossed her arms, and said. "Because of the distraction phone use has caused in the past, all calls to or from devices not linked into the school network are blocked."

"Wait a minute. I can't use my phone? Not even to call my mom?"

She shook her head and said, "We had tried allowing limited phone access outside of classes, but some students found ways of circumventing the call blocking while in class. That's why the current system had been put in place."

Before I could complain about the unfairness of punishing everyone for something probably only a few people knew how to do, the tablet chimed. A small yellow window popped up, which said, [Homeroom period has ended. First period begins in 10 minutes.]

"Uh oh," I said as I began stuffing clothes into the backpack. "Looks like I missed homeroom."

Mrs McCrudger smiled and unfolded her arms. "It's okay. I'll make sure your homeroom teacher knows you'd been at the office, so you're not marked as absent."

Once the floor was clear of clothes, I zipped the backpack closed, grabbed my student ID, and slid it into one of the backpack's side pockets. "I appreciate that," I said as I stood up. "Could ya point me to my next class, so I ain't late for it?"

The principal nodded and tapped the yellow window on my tablet. When another window opened, she pointed to a red dot in the middle of the map being displayed. "This is where you are." She traced her finger along a set of blue arrows as she said, "This is the way you go to get to your next class. The dot will move through the map as you get closer."

"Oh cool," I said while shouldering the backpack. "Thanks!"

"You're very welcome," Mrs McCrudger said as she opened the door. "Take care, and enjoy your first day at Saint Milton's!"

In this chapter, our hero goes to his first class in a girl's uniform, rewords a proverb, and meets a boy with flair.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

When I walked out of the office, a bell rang, and the doors on either side of me opened. An avalanche of noise filled the hallway as students poured out of the classrooms. I was seriously considering going back the way I came, and finding someplace to hide, when someone called my name.

Well ... my last name.

"Hey, Tracy!" yelled a familiar voice.

I had looked up and down the hall a couple of times before I saw Richie running towards me. "Whoa," she said as she skidded to a stop in front of me. "Lookin' proud and true in the red and blue!"

A handful of students passing by us raised their fists in the air as they shouted, "Proud And True!" A couple of the boys and one of the girls who had shouted gave me a thumbs-up before moving on.

I shook my head in confusion. "What was that all about?"

"Just some school spirit." Richie said as she took a step closer. "So, where ya headed for first period?"

I held up my tablet, and pointed to the arrows on the map. "Wherever this leads me."

Richie touched the area of the map where the arrows led. "Oooo," she said when a window popped open. "Ya got Ms Cho."

I gulped, then said, "Is she nice?"

"¡Si! I had her for English Lit last year."

I scoured my brain for a reference to the class name. "Wait a minute. Ain't that like, a high school class?"

"Sorta, but Ms Cho only teaches intro stuff." She scrunched up her nose as she said, "I was kinda worried when I first started, but it wasn't too bad."

"Ah," I said as some of the bunched up muscles in my shoulders loosened, "I'm so glad to hear that."

"If you'd like, I could walk ya to her class, and do intro's."

"I'd appreciate the help, but I don't wanna make ya late for your own class."

A spark ran up and down my side when Richie slipped her arm between my waist and elbow. "Don't worry," she said. "Hall monitors get extra time when they're helping other students."

She smiled at me when she tugged at my arm, and I did my best to not trip over my own feet while running to keep up with her.

=-=-=

"Hey, Ms Cho," Richie said as she led me into a noisy classroom.

A youngish woman sitting behind the desk at the front of the class looked up from her keyboard. A smile spread across her face as she said, "Miss Hernandez! It's so nice to see you again."

Richie let go of my arm and returned the smile. "It's good to see ya too!" She placed her hand in the small of my back, nudged me forward, and said, "Ms Cho, I'd like ya to meet Tracy, who's starting in your class today."

The teacher was still smiling when she turned to me, but her forehead wrinkled when she said, "It's always a pleasure to have another young ... person ... joining my class."

Something cold dropped into my stomach when I heard her pause.

While I was trying to think of a way to explain why I was wearing a girl's uniform, Ms Cho nodded at the scanner on the corner of her desk, and said, "Would you mind tapping in?"

I reached for my card, slapped my hips a couple of times, then remembered the skirt I was wearing didn't have pockets. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, swung my backpack off my shoulders, and dug through it. Once I found my student ID, I walked a few shaky steps towards the desk, and pressed my card against the top of the scanner.

The teacher looked at her screen when the scanner beeped. Her smile brightened when she looked at me, melting the shards of ice in my stomach. "Welcome to Introductory English Literature, Miss Thomas. Please feel free to sit at any unoccupied desk."

Richie stepped up next to me and patted my shoulder. "I gotta head off. Good luck, and have fun!"

I smiled and waved to her as she ran out the door, then walked to the nearest desk. I slid into the chair a couple of moments before my legs gave out on me. A few students looked my way as they entered the class, but nobody pointed and laughed. By the time the bell for first period rang, I was only a little nervous about what might happen next.

Ms Cho looked up as a couple of late arrivals rushed in. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Once everyone's tapped in, please find your seats, and take out your tablets."

The chatter around me dropped to a low murmur, and the room was filled with the clatter of devices being placed on desktops. I pulled out my tablet and placed it on my desktop as well. After switching it on, my tablet lit up, and a window appeared, with a header that said, [English Literature Class Notes].

I looked up, and saw our teacher typing as she said, "For those just joining us today, we've been studying Poor Richard's Almanac, by Benjamin Franklin." She did a final key press as she said, "If you will take a look at your notes window, you'll see Mr Franklin's version of a proverb we'll be discussing today."

I looked down when my tablet chimed, and saw some text, which said,
[For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
For want of a rider, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.]

A few seconds after I finished reading, Ms Cho said, "Would anyone like to comment on what this proverb might teach us?"

A blonde-haired boy sitting across the aisle from me raised a slender hand.

The teacher smiled at him as she said, "Your enthusiasm is always appreciated, Mr Brunford, but let's hear from one of our newer students first." Before I could look down, and pretend I was still reading, Ms Cho turned her attention to me. "Would you like to share your thoughts, Miss Thomas?"

"Uhhhh," I said while trying to not look at all the eyes on me. "I ... ummm ... don't know?"

"Considering this is your first day in class, that's a perfectly valid response." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she said, "Being aware we don't know something can be the first step towards learning something new."

The boy next to me raised his hand again, and Ms Cho nodded at him. "Okay, Mr Brunford. Please share your thoughts."

He stood, brushed out a couple of creases in the legs of his dark blue pants, then said in a light, almost musical voice, "It seems like it's saying little things can be important, and if you don't take care of them, big problems can happen." He frowned when someone snickered, then sighed as he slumped back into his seat.

Ms Cho glared at the back of the room until the snickering died down, then smiled at the boy who answered. "Very good, Mr Brunford."

She turned her attention to the rest of the class, and asked, "Would anyone else like to add anything?" When nobody answered, she did a couple of mouse clicks, then said, "You should see a new entry in your class notes. Please be sure to fill in both blanks before submitting your response."

I looked at my tablet, and found a sentence under the proverb, which said, [For want of a _____, a _____ was lost.]

While I was trying to think of an answer, Ms Cho said, "Extra credit will be awarded if you submit something you can relate to on a personal basis. So long as it's not something rude," she added while giving the back of the room a meaningful look, "feel free to enter whatever you like."

I spent a few minutes trying to think of something personal. My pulse started racing when inspiration struck. I tapped the blank spaces, typed in 'comma' and 'gender', then hit the submit button before I lost my nerve. Less than a minute later, a chat window opened.

[Ms Cho: That's a very interesting submission.]
[Me: ty]
[Ms Cho: Is it based on personal experience?]
[Me: sorta]
[Ms Cho: Sorta?]
[Me: I mean yes]
[Ms Cho: You're a very brave young lady. I'm glad to have you in my class.]

I was distracted for the rest of the period as questions raced through my head. Did the teacher really think of me as a 'young lady'? Why'd she say I was brave? Was she really glad to have me in her class? Would my other teachers be as nice as Ms Cho?

I was so deep in thought, I didn't realize the class was over, until someone poked me in the shoulder. The cloud of confusion drifted away when I looked in the direction of the poker.

The boy who'd been sitting next to me smiled and adjusted the knot in his tie. "Hi," he said. "I'm Vic." He held out a hand with an elegant flair as he stood. "Vic Brunford."

"Hi," I said while giving his hand a quick shake. "I'm T-" For a nanosecond, I considered giving my real first name, reconsidered, and said, "Tracy." I thought about the way my name looked on my student ID card, and added, "Tracy Thomas."

Vic did something between a bow and a curtsey as he let go of my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tracy." He picked up his tablet after unfolding from the curtsey-bow. "I noticed we're in the same second period. Would you mind if I walked with you to our next class?"

"Uhhh ... sure," I said as I stood.

"Brill!" he said as his smile turned into a grin. "We're gonna knock 'em dead in Social Studies."

"Oh joy," I said, the acid in my voice matching my opinion of our next class.

"Hey, don't get all gloomy on me," he said as he slipped his tablet into a huge tote bag. He smirked and pulled the handles of the bag over his shoulder as he said, "Don't worry, your girlfriend'll be there too."

My stomach tightened, and my fingers tingled. "My ... my what?"

In this chapter, our hero gets to know a pretty boy, is harassed by a major creep, and holds hands with someone who makes his heart flutter.

CAUTION: This chapter includes actual descriptions of bullying, including verbal assault and sexual harassment, rather than indirect references to bullying, as in previous chapters. If you feel that might cause any difficulty for you, please think very carefully before reading this chapter. While I love having my stories read, knowing people are taking care of their mental and emotional well being is a lot more important to me.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions," Vic said as we headed out of the classroom. Once we'd merged with the heavy foot traffic in the hallway, he said, "I just saw how chummy you two looked, and ... well ... I guess I really stepped in it."

I ducked out of the way of a girl running past us, then smiled at Vic as I shook my head. "No need to apologize. I just ... kinda never thought of anybody being interested in me like that."

"So, you never had a girlfriend?" His brows wiggled. "Or a boyfriend?"

My cheeks warmed as I said, "Of course not. To both!"

"Sorry again," he said as he gave me a light shoulder bump. "It's a wonder I can talk, let alone walk, with both feet in my mouth."

Something about the image of him trying to walk with both feet in his mouth made me chuckle. Or maybe it was a giggle. It was hard to tell with the loud chatter of the other students.

Vic looked like he was going to ask me something, then gasped when he was slapped in the back.

"Yo, Brunfag," said a tall, chunky boy as he slapped Vic in the back again.

Vic hunched his shoulders. "Get outta my face, Griff."

"Dial down the hostility," Griff said as he held up his hands. "Just messin' with ya." He looked at me with a smile any shark would envy. "I know you're new here, so I better warn ya 'bout this one."

"Nobody wants to hear it," Vic said as he quickened his pace.

"What's his damage?" I asked as I ran to keep up.

Vic sighed, then said, "He's just some bloody plonker, who thinks a bit of eyeliner means you've got a thing for guys."

I studied his face as well as I could while running down the busy hallway. "You got makeup on?"

"Not since the first day of school," he said as he shook his head. "The powers that be decided girls are only allowed subtle makeup, and boys are allowed none."

"They made a rule, specifically saying boys can't wear makeup?"

Vic slowed as we reached a door near the end of the hall. "Eh, they can keep it," he said with a smirk. "I'm already pretty enough as I am."

=-=-=

I saw Richie talking to a girl with puffy pigtails when we entered the classroom.

Vic walked towards them as he said, "Richie ... and Chrissy!"

Chrissy turned to Vic, and said, "Oh m'gosh. What happened to your hair?"

Vic let out a deep sigh, then said, "School messaged my parents, dad took me to a barber, and snip snap, my hair got chopped."

"Wait a minute," I said as I stepped up to the group. "This school can make ya cut your hair?"

Richie's mouth quirked to the side as she nodded. "If it don't meet school guidelines, then yeah."

I held a hand up to the side of my head. "But ... what if I don't wanna?"

"Don't worry," Richie said as she draped an arm across my shoulders. "They only make guys keep their hair short."

The warmth of her arm on my shoulders drove away the panic I'd been feeling, which made more room for my growing anger. "That's ... that's just ... so unfair!"

"You're telling me," Vic said.

Chrissy reached up, and parted the hair covering Vic's forehead down the middle. "Y'know, with a couple of barrettes, it could still look cute."

Vic shook his head, shaking loose the part in his hair. "Nah, they'd probably just ban that too."

Richie snorted. "This is ridiculous. First the makeup thing, and now this?"

"Definitely should be first order of business at our next meeting." Chrissy said as she put her hands on her hips.

"What meeting?" I asked.

The ringing of the second period bell drowned out Chrissy's answer, but it had looked like she'd said something about telling me later.

Richie let go of my shoulder as she said, "Guess we better tap in."

Richie, Chrissy, and Vic lined up behind a couple of other students already standing by the teacher's desk. I slipped off my backpack and pulled out my card as I hurried to get behind them.

"Hey," Griff whispered from behind me. Even though he'd only said one word, there was something in the tone of his voice that made my hair want to crawl off the back of my head.

"Hey," he whispered again after the line moved. I ignored the desire to bloody Griff's snout, and tried to remember another one of the visualization techniques my therapist had taught me.

"Where's your bra?"

I imagined myself being someplace far, far away as the line moved again.

"Ain't girls supposed to wear bras?"

I was at the edge of a quiet lake. A gentle wind rustled through the trees around me. I was not in some weird school with crazy rules. There definitely wasn't a creep standing behind me.

Griff's warm breath tickled the back of my ear. "It should be right here."

A finger pressed between my shoulder blades.

"What the hell ya think you're doing?!" I shouted as I spun around.

A tall, nearly bald man appeared beside us. "What's going on here?"

"Nothin', Mr Mason," Griff said as he leaned away from me.

"That wasn't nothin'," I said through gritted teeth.

Mr Mason turned to me, and asked, "Did he touch you in any way that made you uncomfortable?"

My stomach churned as I nodded.

Griff frowned and said, "All I did was tap her shoulder."

"Is that correct?" Mr Mason asked.

"I guess ... sorta ... yeah. But the way he did it was ... just ..." I gave up trying to finish the sentence.

"I see. And did he say anything inappropriate?"

"He asked me about ... " Something wet and hot slid down my cheek. "He said stuff 'bout me wearin' a ... a br-"

"I did not!" Griff shouted.

Mr Mason turned to him, and said, "That's something I think we can discuss with Mrs McCrudger."

Griff's brows shot up. "What? Can't you tell she, or he, or it's lying?"

Mr Mason's voice boomed through the classroom. "Mr Griffins! Office. NOW!"

Griff growled, glared at me, then stomped out of the room.

The stone cold expression Mr Mason had while he watched Griff leave melted when he looked at me. His voice was warm and mellow, like a cup of hot cocoa, when he said, "Would you like to speak to the school therapist?"

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand as I thought. I still wanted to pummel Griff until there was nothing left of him to hit. Under that were a lot of other feelings; none of which I could name. "I dunno," I said as I shrugged.

Even though he didn't smile, there was a twinkle in his eye as he said, "I'll take that as a yes."

A hand slipped into mine. I turned and saw Richie smiling at me. She gave my hand a squeeze, then looked at Mr Mason as she asked, "Would it be okay if I took Tracy to see Dr Korvin?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he said as he nodded at Richie, then looked at me and asked, "Would you be okay with that?"

I did my best to smile as I nodded.

"Very good. I'll contact Dr Korvin, so she knows to expect you."

=-=-=

The clap of our shoes against the wooden floorboards echoed down the empty hallway. I barely noticed the sound of classes being taught as we passed by closed doors. Richie brushed the back of my hand with her thumb as she said, "Don't worry, Dr Korvin's really nice."

I gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll be okay. This ain't gonna be my first therapist."

"Really?" Richie was quiet as we passed another door. "Would I be getting too nosy if I asked what kinda things you're seeing a therapist for?"

I grinned and said, "Maybe a little, but I don't mind telling ya."

Richie bit her bottom lip, then said, "Sorry 'bout that."

"It ain't really a big secret. Just got some anger management issues he's helping me with."

"Ahhh," she said, while giving me a curious look.

"You almost seem disappointed."

"No, not really. I was just expecting something ... different."

"You mean like split personalities, or stuff like that?"

Richie smiled and shook her head. "Nah, nothing like that. I just ... never mind."

"Okay, ya really got me curious. Whatcha think I was seeing a therapist for?"

"Maybe like ... gender stuff?"

"Huh?"

Richie stopped and gave me a look that was happy, sad, and hopeful; all at the same time. "I just thought maybe you were ... well," she let go of my hand as she said, "however you identify really ain't any of my business."

A lost, empty feeling opened up inside of me when she let go. "You mad at me?"

"Of course not," she said as one side of her mouth dimpled. "Why'd ya ask?"

"Well, when ya stopped, and then let go, I thought ... maybe ... I dunno."

"Ahhh, I see. Well, I stopped 'cause we're here," she said as she gestured towards a door. "And I let go," she added as she pulled the door open, "so I could do this."

"Oh," I said as some of the emptiness faded. Part of me wanted to reach out to her, but another part was terrified of the idea, so I wrung my hands instead. "Sorry for making assumptions 'bout how ya feel."

Richie grinned and said, "Está bien."

My heart beat faster as I said, "This is like, close as I ever got to being friends with someone in ... ever. Guess I was worried about messing that up by getting ya mad."

"I can't promise to never get mad," she said as she touched my cheek. Her lashes fluttered when she lowered her hand. "But as far as the friends part goes ..." Richie let go of the door, swallowed a couple of times, then said, "that's something I'd really like."

And then ... she hugged me.

I stood there a moment, not sure how to react, then leaned into the hug. "I'd like that too."

In this chapter, our hero gets a new understanding of what delicate can mean, learns about a confrontation in the principal's office, and follows a friend in pain into the unknown.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I entered a cozy office, and saw a woman with long, coppery hair sitting at the far end of an overstuffed sofa. She looked up when the door closed, and gave me a warm smile. "Hello", she said as she stood. "Are you Tracy Thomas?"

"I guess so," I said while trying to shove my hands into pockets I no longer had.

"Hmmm," she said as she picked up a tablet from the table in front of the sofa. "So ... you're not sure?"

"No, it ain't that," I said while playing with the hem of my skirt. "It's just ... something weird happened when they transferred my records to this school, and my name got entered backwards."

"Ah," she said as she glanced at the device in her hand. "So, you prefer ... Thomas Tracy?"

"Tommy, actually."

She did some one-handed typing, then sat and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tommy. I'm Dr Anne Korvin." She patted the thick seat cushion on the other side of the sofa. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," I said as I pulled off my backpack, then sat with my back against the padded armrest.

Dr Korvin looked at her tablet again, then said, "According to the message your teacher sent, it looks like there'd been some sort of a confrontation with another student."

"You could say that," I said as I dug my fingers into the velvet folds of the cushion under me.

She nodded, then asked, "Could you describe what happened?"

"Well ... some jerk was getting on my case. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't let up, so I told him to back off."

"And how was he getting on your case?"

He was just saying ... just ... stuff," I said as I wrapped my arms over my queasy stomach.

"I realize this may be difficult," she said as she leaned closer, "but would you mind telling me what he said?"

"He was asking about ... bras." A sour taste rose in the back of my throat. "And ... like ... asking if I was ... wearing one."

Dr Korvin's brows lowered. "That was quite an inappropriate thing for him to say." Her face and voice softened as she asked, "How did that make you feel?"

"It made me wanna punch him!"

"And did you?"

"Well ... no."

"So, what did you do?"

"I yelled at him."

The therapist nodded. "That's a very normal reaction. Do you know why you yelled, instead of hitting him?"

"I guess 'cause my therapist - I mean another therapist, not you - has been helping me with anger stuff, and ... maybe some of what he's been sayin' kinda finally stuck with me."

"Is he a therapist from your previous school?"

I shook my head and said, "Dr Zigler's somebody my mom took me to."

Doctor Korvin spent a few second seconds entering something on her device, then asked, "Have you felt more in control of your anger since you started seeing him?"

"Well, there's a major piece of ... something, that ain't got a bloody nose, still walking around. So, I guess ... yeah, he's kinda helped."

"I'm glad to hear that. While it can be unhealthy to suppress emotions, even negative ones, it is important to control how we react." She gave me a serious look as she said, "It's especially important to learn control if we feel inclined to react in ways that might cause harm to others, or ourselves."

I thought back to the last time I'd let loose on someone, and the trouble it had caused, for both me and my mom. "I'm kinda learning that."

The therapist nodded, then became quiet as her grey eyes searched for ... something. Eventually, she asked, "Has he helped you with any other issues?"

"Urmmm ... like what?"

The therapist tapped her chin, then said, "I'd like to ask you a question, but I want you to be aware that you don't need to answer it, if you'd rather not. Okay?"

I tried to imagine what sort of question she was going to ask, gave up, and nodded.

"Is there a gender with which you most identify?"

"Ya mean like, boy or girl?"

"Yes, or any of the many other genders."

"There's more'n two?"

Dr Korvin smiled. "Oh yes, there's quite a few."

"Like what?"

"Let me see," she said as she set her tablet down on her lap."Besides boy and girl," she added as she counted off on her fingers, "there's transboy, transgirl, nonbinary, genderfluid, rugged, delicate-" ¹

"Wait a minute. Delicate's a gender?"

"Actually, it's more often used as an adjective describing a gender, when someone wants something a little more neutral than feminine, but it's also used by some as a gender."

I thought about that for a while. Once I remembered what an adjective was, more thoughts swirled around. "Ya mean, somebody could be like ... a delicate, or a delicate ... boy?

"Exactly!"

I thought some more. "How ya know which one y'are?"

"That question can be very easy, or very difficult, to answer." The therapist rested her elbows on her knees, and held her chin in her hands. "Does delicate, or delicate boy, feel as if it describes your gender in a meaningful way?"

"I ... I ain't sure. Is that weird?"

"Not at all. Gender identity isn't always an easy concept to grasp, and finding a way of describing how you feel can be challenging."

"Would it be okay if like, for now, I went with ... boy?"

"Absolutely," she said with a firm nod.

"Even if I'm dressed like a girl?"

"Does what you're wearing make you feel like a girl?"

I chewed on a thumbnail for a while, then said, "I dunno."

"Does it make you feel like a boy, or any other gender?"

"Well ... it don't make me feel like a boy. I ain't sure 'bout other genders."

"Does it make you feel anything else?"

I shrugged and said, "I guess I feel different, but not in a bad way."

Dr Korvin's tablet chirped. Her eyes scanned down the screen, then she looked at me and said, "The principal is asking me to consult on an issue that's come up, but I'd like to continue our discussion. Would you mind if I scheduled an appointment for us to meet again tomorrow?"

"Uhhmmm ... sure," I said. While I wasn't much of a fan of therapy, I'd enjoyed talking to her, and had a growing list of questions I wanted to ask.

"Wonderful!" she said while doing some fancy fingerwork on her tablet. "Okay, I've set up our appointment." Two muffled chimes came from my backpack when she made a couple of swiping motions. "I've also sent you a list of some of the genders, and a list some of the pronouns you may hear being used here at this school."

"Thanks," I said as I picked up my backpack.

"You're welcome," she said as she stood. "I'm so glad I got to meet you, Mr ... or would you prefer Miss?"

"Would just Tommy be okay?"

The therapist smiled and held out a hand. "I'm looking forward to our next appointment, Tommy."

I returned the smile as I shook her hand, and said, "Me too."

=-=-=

I'd decided reading the gender list was the first thing I wanted to do, and was going through it while walking back to Mr Mason's class, when the squeak of a door opening caught my attention. I smiled and waved when Vic walked through the doorway, followed a moment later by Chrissy.

Vic smiled back and said, "Hey, good to see ya!"

I noticed his eyes were red and puffy when I stopped in front of him. "You okay?" I asked.

"Meh, I've been better."

"What happened?"

"Just kinda talked to the principal about some stuff."

Chrissy walked up from behind Vic and said, "Stuff de probably shoulda brought up a long time ago."

I wondered about the odd sounding pronoun ², and decided reading Dr Korvin's other list would be the next thing I needed to do as I asked, "Ya got sent to the principal?"

Vic shrugged. "Not exactly. After ya left with Richie, Mr Mason asked if anybody'd heard what Griff had said. I hadn't heard everything, but when I told him what I did hear, he asked me if I'd come with him when he went to see Mrs McCrudger."

Chrissy wrapped an arm around Vic's waist, and gave him a sideways hug. "I hadn't heard anything, but I came along for moral support."

"Wow," I said, "so ya told the principal everything Griff said to me?"

"Well, as much as I'd been able to understand," Vic said as he nodded. "Even though I didn't hear everything, what I did hear, plus what Mr Mason said, was enough to get Griff in trouble."

Chrissy sighed and said, "Of course, Griff completely denied everything."

Vic tensed as he said, "That's when I called him a soddin' liar." His fingers curled up, and his knuckles turned white. "When he called me a liar back, something inside me broke, and stuff I'd never planned on telling anybody just started pouring out."

I thought about how Griff had treated Vic in the hallway, and how he'd treated me in the classroom. "Holy crap," I said in a low voice. "What happened?"

"Well ... a couple weeks ago, Griff followed me into the loo," he said in a shaky voice, "and he ... he ..." Vic's jaw moved a couple of times before his mouth closed. A few tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

Chrissy ran a hand up and down his back as she said, "Ya wanna find someplace more private to talk?"

When Vic nodded, Chissy took his hand, and led him to a door on the other side of the hall.

It was a door with a sign that said, 'Girl's Restroom'.

Neither Vic or Chrissy paid much attention to the sign as they walked into the bathroom. I began to follow, then paused when the door swung shut behind them. While I'd never considered going into such a place before, I knew someone I cared about on the other side of the door was hurting.

I spent a minute doing some breathing exercises, but my hands were still unsteady when I placed them on the door. I closed my eyes, willed enough strength into my arms to push the door open, and walked into the inner sanctum of all the things I'd always felt I could never be.

=-=-=

Footnotes:
¹ Delicate and rugged are identifiers for those who might consider describing themselves as feminine or masculine, but don't want to use words so strongly linked with whatever bits someone has. They can also be used as replacements for female and male, if you're looking for a somewhat neutral, but still nuanced gender.
²Below is a list of pronouns for those who use delicate or rugged as a gender.

Types of Pronouns:	subjective	objective	weak	strong	reflexive
Delicate Pronouns:	de	dem	des	dems	demself
Rugged Pronouns:	ru	rum	rus	rums	rumself

In this chapter, our hero learns about restroom rules, bravely selects what to eat for lunch, and joins his first SIGL meeting.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Vic was leaning against the far wall when I entered the girl's restroom. Chrissy dabbed under his closed eyes with a fingertip, leaving behind shiny tan dots.

Vic's eyes popped open when the door thunked closed behind me.

"Would you relax?" Chrissy asked as she spread the dots with another finger.

"I don't wanna get in trouble again."

"It's just concealer. Nobody'll even notice."

Vic smiled at me, but there was a worried look in his eyes when he asked, "Does it look like I'm wearing makeup?"

I walked across the room until I was standing next to Chrissy, then took a long look at Vic's face. "I guess your eyes are still a little red, but your lids don't look as bad as they was before. Besides that, I wouldn't have guessed ya had anything on."

"See," Chrissy said as she recapped a small, tan bottle. "If she don't see it while looking ya square in the face, I'm sure nobody else will."

Hearing myself called 'she' hit me ... well ... maybe not like a ton of bricks, but at least as hard as a loosely packed snowball. Griff had called me 'her' and 'she' too ... at least, at first. On the other hand, the school therapist didn't act weird when I said I was a boy, and called me Tommy when I'd asked her to.

While I was juggling gender stuff in my head, the bathroom door creaked open, and an annoyed voice asked, "What's a boy doing in here?"

I turned and saw a couple of girls standing near the doorway. "I'm sorry," I said as I took a step away from them. "I was just worried about my friend, and ... well ..."

The taller girl flung her long ponytail over a shoulder, and her duffel bag swayed in her tight grip. "Why ya 'pologizing for him being in here?"

The shorter girl wrinkled her freckled nose, then poked the other girl in the ribs with an elbow. "Can't ya tell her friend's a delicate?"

The taller girl's face went from angry, to confused, to embarrassed. "Oh ... sorry 'bout that." Her face turned pink as she rushed into a stall.

The shorter girl unwrapped one of the arms she had around her backpack, and waved as she walked up to us. "I'm Jessi,"she said as she held out a hand to me.

I shook her hand as I said, "I'm ... uhhh ... Tracy."

Jessi smiled when she let go, then asked, "Ya still getting used to your name?"

"Whatcha mean?"

"Ya sounded a little unsure when ya answered." She tilted her head towards the closed stall door, and said, "If you're worried about Tanya, don't be. She's just having issues with the new bathroom rules."

"Ahhh," Chrissy said while waving her hand under a faucet. A gush of water flowed over her fingers as she asked, "What kinda issues?"

"It's sorta complicated," Jessi said, "but it mostly boils down to a problem with a boy who'd been harassing her."

Vic sighed and said, "I can relate."

Jessi turned to him and asked, "You having problems with a boy too?"

"Sorta, yeah. He decided I fancied him, so he cornered me in the boy's loo, and tried to-"

"What's a loo?" Jessi asked.

Chrissy gave Vic a gentle smile, then reached for a paper towel as she said, "It's British for bathroom."

"Hold on," Tanya called out. A toilet flushed as the door to her stall opened. "They made a delicate use the boys room?" she asked as she strode towards the nearest sink.

Vic's jaw clenched for a moment, then he said, "I'd tried getting my mum and dad to sign that stupid form, but they're both stuck in the dark ages, so it was a no go for where I wanted to go when I needed to go."

"Dang," Tanya said as she scrubbed her hands. "Not being able to be yourself, 'cause somebody wouldn't sign a form, sounds pretty awful." She sighed while rinsing off her hands, then smiled at Vic as she reached for a paper towel. "For what it's worth, I think ya aughta be able to at least use a bathroom ya feel safe in, no matter what your parent think."

"Really?" Chrissy asked as she dragged a backpack off the counter.

Tanya nodded as she dried her hands. "Everybody deserves a place they feel safe."

Chrissy pulled out and activated her tablet. "Would ya be willing to thumb-sign our self identified gender petition?"

Tanya drummed her fingers against her thigh, then smiled as she tossed the paper towel into a waste basket. "Sure!" she said as she dug a tablet out of her bag. "Could ya send it to me?"

Jessi reached into her backpack, and pulled out a tablet as she said, "Me too!"

Chrissy tapped her device a few times, then made a couple of swiping motions. Tanya's and Jessi's tablets chimed at almost the same time. After a minute or so of reading, Jessie pressed her thumb against the face of her device, and Chrissy's tablet beeped.

Tanya thumbed her tablet a few seconds later, then said, "I'm glad you're doing this."

Everyone's devices chimed at the same time.

"Sounds like second period's over," Vic said while threading an arm through the handles of the tote bag at his feet.

Jessi grabbed Tanya's wrist when the muted ringing of a bell started in the hallway, "We better get to study hall if we wanna be ready for another one of Mr Garner's pop quizzes."

Tanya groaned as she was dragged out of the bathroom, but there was a playfulness in her voice when she said, "Don't worry 'bout me. Save yourselves!"

Vic giggled, then touched the back of my arm as he asked, "Ya got third period lunch?"

I wriggled my backpack off my shoulders, and looked for my tablet as I said, "Lemme check." After finding and starting up my device, I poked at a few of the icons. "Ah," I said when my schedule finally opened, "says here I got first lunch shift for third period."

"Great!" Chrissy said as she stowed her tablet. "That means ya can join us for today's meeting!"

=-=-=

"Dangit," I said as I stuffed my jeans back into my backpack.

"What's wrong?" Vic asked while picking up a tray from the stack by the lunch line.

"I forgot to ask my mom for lunch money this morning,"

Chrissy picked up a couple of trays when the line moved. "Don't worry," she said as she handed a tray to me. "There's a meal stipend on your student ID card."

"A meal what?" I asked as I slung a backpack strap over my shoulder.

Vic set his tray on the serving line rails as he said, "It means the school gives you a free lunch when you scan your card at the cash register."

While I wondered how the school could afford to give out free lunches, a couple of boys shoved open the double doors near us. A cold breeze rushed in, and my legs prickled with goosebumps when it blew up my skirt.

"Brrrr," Chrissy said as she set her tray next to Vic's.

"Double brrr," I said as I stepped up next to Chrissy, and placed my tray with a dull clack on the serving line rails.

Chrissy rubbed her arms as she said, "I really wish they wouldn't make us wear skirts. At least, not when it starts getting cold."

"Me too," I said as I nodded. I'd often felt jealous about girls being able to wear pretty things, but I never really thought about there being a down side for them as well. Having your legs turn into popsicles while wearing a skirt was definitely a big down side. I was wondering what other things girls had to put up with, when I realized someone was trying to get my attention.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Regular or veggie loaf?" asked a burly man in a chef's uniform on the opposite side of the serving line.

"Huh?"

The man gestured with a spatula to a pair of trays filled with brown slabs of ... something. "Would you like the regular meatloaf," he asked, "or the vegetarian option?"

"Ummm ... which would you suggest?"

He held a plastic-gloved hand a few inches from his mouth, made a kissing sound as he opened his fingers, then grinned and said, "Both are très magnifique!"

I said a quick prayer to any school lunch deities who might be listening, then pointed to the tray on the left.

The man gave me a quick nod, then filled a ceramic plate with foodish looking items. "Enjoy!" he said as he reached over the sneeze guard, and handed the plate to me.

Once I picked something to drink, a chipper lady behind the register tallied up what I had on my tray. I tapped my card on the scanner in front of her, nodded and smiled when she thanked me, then turned and looked for someplace to sit.

"Oh, there she is!" Vic said. I glanced in the direction he was pointing, and saw Richie waving at us. "Looks like she saved seats for all of us," he added as he began walking towards her.

Chrissy smiled at me as she said, "C'mon!" then followed behind Vic.

I almost fell into my old habit of finding someplace I could eat alone, but having lunch while being surrounded by friendly faces was too tempting. "Habits are for nuns," I said to myself, then took a couple of quick steps until I'd caught up with Chrissy and Vic.

"Hey there," Richie said when I sat beside her. "Everything go okay with Dr Korvin?"

"I guess so," I said as I shrugged. "We talked a bit about Griff."

Vic grumbled under his breath, then stabbed his fork at a chunk of meat ... or possibly a meat-like product.

Chrissy patted his arm and said, "I've got a feeling he's gonna be gone for a while."

Vic sighed and said, "Sorry 'bout that. Just hearing his name can set me off." He sat up straighter and smiled. "Don't mind me."

"How 'bout a new topic?" Chrissy asked.

Richie nodded and said, "Good idea." She rapped her knuckles on the table, then said, "Let this official meeting of the Self Identified Gender League come to order!"

In this chapter, our hero runs into some trouble while trying to help his friends, does some gender revelation, loses his temper, then finds himself in *very* deep trouble.
.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

I finished reading Dr Korvin's gender list while the Self Identified Gender League discussed points of order, then sliced off a chunk of meatloaf, and popped it in my mouth. It was chewy, and the mild spices did a decent job of hiding the not-meat taste. Feeling braver after facing the scariest item on my plate, I tried the peas, which were mushy, and the mashed potatoes, which were on the soggy side of fluffy.

I was calculating how many stars I'd give for my first lunch at Saint Milton's Middle School, when Richie nudged my arm, and said, "Hey ... soñadora."

I took a sip from my juice carton, then asked, "Señor who?"

Richie grinned and said, "I was calling you a ... ummm ... never mind." Her face and ears reddened as she looked away, then she pointed a fork at Chrissy while saying, "Madame Secretary was trying to tell ya something."

I decided learning more Spanish would be the next thing I'd do when I finished reading Dr Korvin's pronoun list, then looked at Chrissy and said, "Sorry 'bout that. What was ya saying?"

Chrissy bubbled with excitement as she said, "I just realized, with Jessi and Tanya thumb-signing our petition, we're only a signature shy of being able to submit it to the school board."

"That sounds great!"

"Definitely!" Chrissy said, then held her hands in a pleading gesture. "I know this is asking a lot, but would ya mind adding your signature to the petition?"

While I'd never been interested in getting involved with school politics before, the puppy-dog eyes she was giving me vetoed every excuse I could think of for saying no. "Sure," I said as I woke my tablet out of sleep mode.

"Thank you!" she said as she swiped a finger across the face of her device.

I looked down at my tablet when it chimed. A long window opened, with a header that said, [Self Identified Gender Petition]. I scrolled through a couple screenfulls of text, then asked, "Is this saying you're trying to get rid of bathroom rules, and uniform rules?"

"Don't forget grooming rules," Vic said as he squished a couple of peas with a finger.

"Actually, we ain't tryin' to get rid of the rules," Chrissy said as she put away her tablet. "We just want 'em to be better."

I slurped up a warm spoonful of mashed potatoes while looking through the petition again. "It says something here about freedom of gender expression. Does that mean people ain't allowed to express their genders here?"

"Not exactly," Richie said. "You're free to express your gender, so long as it's boy or girl." She set her fork down with a metallic clink. "Mrs McCrudger's been working with the school board, and was able to get some rules changed for transboys and transgirls."

"Other genders are sorta unofficially recognized by most students and teachers," Chrissy said, "but not by the school board."

Vic sighed, then said, "But no matter what gender ya identify as, if ya can't get your parents to sign a form, confirming you're whatcha say you are, you're outta bloomin' luck."

"So all this," I said as I pointed to the petition, "is saying we want the right to say what gender we are?"

Chrissy grinned and nodded. "You got it!"

"That sounds fair," I said as I pressed my thumb against the thumbprint image at the bottom of the window. My tablet buzzed, and a small orange window popped up, which said, [ERROR: Thumb signature recognition pending school record confirmation.]

Richie looked over my arm, then asked, "Something happen with your school records?"

I nodded and sighed. "Sorta, yeah."

One of Vic's eyebrows rose. "What happened?"

"It seems like a comma went missing when my records was transferred here from my old school. That's how my first and last name got swapped around. I ain't figured out how my gender got messed up yet."

"So, you're not ... not a transgirl?" Richie's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "Sorry, I just kinda ... I mean ... with your pretty hair, and your body language ..." She was quiet for a second, then said, "I know a delicate can be like that, but your card said you're Tracy Thomas, so I just thought ..."

I wasn't sure how to process most of what she said, especially the 'pretty' comment, so I latched on to the last thing I heard as I said, "My school ID got messed up too. My name's really Thomas Tracy."

"Oh wow ... I had no idea I'd been calling you the wrong name, Tr-Thomas."

"Actually, I usually go by Tommy."

Richie grinned at me as she said, "Tommy's a cute name."

While I was trying to figure out what anyone could find cute about my name, Chrissy frowned and tilted her head as she said, "I'm a little lost. Are ya saying ... you're a transboy?"

"I dunno," I said as I searched through Dr Kovin's gender list. "What's a transboy?"

"I ain't sure what the official definition is," Vic said, "but I'm pretty certain it means someone who identifies as a boy, but was born with girl bits."

I thought about Vic's answer, then blushed when I realized what he'd meant by 'bits'. "Ermmm ... no, definitely not a transboy. More just a regular boy." I looked down at what I was wearing, then said, "Well, maybe not *regular* regular, but something close to that."

Chrissy gasped. "They made a boy wear a girl's uniform?" When I nodded, she frowned and said, "That's awful!"

"Actually," I said, "It ain't been all that bad."

Chrissy blinked a few times. "So, ya don't mind wearing girl clothes?"

I thought about the past few hours, then said, "To be honest, it's mostly been ... kinda nice."

Vic gave me a long, steady look. "So," he said as a smile sneaked out of the side of his mouth, "you're a delicate ... like me?"

I chewed on my lip while thinking about the genders on the list Dr Korvin had sent to me. "I dunno about being a delicate, but I've thinking I may be a delicate boy."

Richie nodded and said, "Whatever he -- do you mind he?" she asked as she touched my arm. When I nodded and smiled, she said, "Whatever he identifies as, or even if he don't identify with any gender, shouldn't matter. People aughta be able to wear what they want, when they want."

"And go where they feel okay going," Vic said.

"Like it says in our petition," Chrissy added.

I groaned as I shoved my tablet into my backpack. "Sorry I couldn't help with the votes."

Richie smiled and said. "It's okay."

I snorted, then said, "No, it ain't okay. Not if it means some of us gotta wear skirts, no matter how cold it is, or others gotta get their hair chopped off, 'cause of forms or .... bits."

"You're absolutely right," Richie said.

"But what can we do about it?" Chrissy asked.

"We take it to the principal," I said as I stood.

"I like that idea," Richie said as she stood beside me.

"I'm in," Vic said as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

Chrissy grinned and said, "Me too!"

I reached under the table and grabbed my backpack as I said, "Then let's do it!"

=-=-=

"Where's the principal?" I asked as I swung open the office door. I stepped out of the doorway, so my friends could follow behind me, then said, "We need to see her right away."

Ms Etcherson stopped typing and glanced at the four of us, then continued as she said, "She's in a conference at the moment, and can't be disturbed."

I growled with frustration. "Again?"

"She's a very busy woman."

I looked at the far end of the room, and saw the door to the bathroom where the craziest thing I'd ever done happened. I swung around and looked at the door beside me. It had a sign which said 'Margaret McCrugder - Principal'.

"Well," I said as I grabbed the handle to the nearer door, "she's gonna be busy with us now."

"Wait!" Ms Etcherson shouted. "You can't go in there now. She's in the middle of very sensitive negotiations with an important board member."

"I don't care how important they think they are," I said as I yanked open the door. "We're going in."

"I realize the board already agreed to several of my proposals," Mrs McCrudger said as we marched into her office, "but the new policies only cover the needs of some-" she looked up when Vic cleared his throat, then said, "Mr Director, something's come up. ... Yes ... yes, I understand your time is ... of course ... I'll ask my assistant to contact your staff. ... Thank you."

The principal pressed a key on her keyboard, pulled off her headset, set it down in the middle of her desk, then said in a level voice, "That was a ... a *very* important call."

"This is important too." Richie said.

Chrissy nodded and said, "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

My heart thudded against my ribs as I stepped forward. "There's some stuff in this school that needs changing."

Mrs McCrudger steepled her fingers as she asked, "What would you like to see changed?"

"There's like ... lotsa stuff."

"Such as?"

I took a deep breath, waited for my anger to cool, gave up, and blurted out, "Dammit! Just ... all kinds of crazy crap is going on, and it needs to change. Now!"

The principal gave me a single, slow nod, then said, "I see."

"NO!" I shouted as I slammed a fist on her desk. "Ya *don't* see!" Rage and pain welled up as I thought of what Griff had done. "If ya did, none of the goddam shit that's been goin' on woulda happened!"

Even though her face was a study in calmness, Mrs McCrudger had a dark look in her eyes as she said, "Very well. I will give your concerns my undivided attention."

Relief washed through me as I asked, "Really?"

"Yes. This afternoon."

A chill ran up my back as I said, "Wait. When?"

She rested her forearms on her desk and leaned forward. "After school."

A frosty ball of dread dropped into my stomach as I whispered, "After school?"

The principal's brows lowered as she said, "In detention."

In this chapter, our hero deals with detention, decides on a gender, and gets a chance to turn a dream into reality.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Detention.

Even thinking of the word made me shudder. Wondering what sort of punishment I'd be facing, and worrying about how my mom would react, blocked out every other thought as I wandered from class to class. I was completely drained by the time the last period was over, and shuffled like a zombie, or possibly a robot, to the detention room.

When I entered the tiny room, Mrs McCrudger opened a drawer in her desk as she said, "Please have a seat."

I looked at the row of desks on the other side of the room, and saw Richie, Vic, and Chrissy sitting at three of them. Even though nobody spoke, they all gave me quick smiles as I walked to the last desk. Once I had my backpack stowed under my chair and was sitting, the principal brought over a pile of laptops, and placed one in front of each of us.

When she got back to her desk, she folded her hands in front of her keyboard, then said, "Please open your laptops, then sign in, using your first name as a user name, and your last name as a password."

I lifted the top of the device on my desk, and the screen lit up. I tried signing in the way I'd been told, got an error message, grumbled while switching my first and last name around, and logged in.

After the click of everyone's keyboards stopped, Mrs McCrudger said, "Now that you've all signed in, I'll be sending a document to you." A moment after she tapped her mouse, a window opened on my screen, with a header that said, [My Change Suggestions].

The principal looked at each of us as she said, "I would like you to write an essay, using at least one hundred words."

I cringed at the word 'essay'. It was a close second to 'detention' as my least favorite word.

"Please describe the changes you'd like to see in this school," she said, "and why you'd like to see those changes. While I expect you to be polite, I'd also like you to be open and honest."

I peeked at Richie, who gave me a wink while her fingers danced across her keyboard. Feeling a little braver, I cracked, my knuckles, then began to type. Bashing school policy isn't as easy as some might think ... at least, not while trying to be polite. Keeping my temper under control was even harder.

Eventually, I tabbed over to the submit button, and hit the Enter key with a shaky finger.

The principal looked up a few seconds later, gave me a nod, then studied her screen. I could barely hear my friends typing over the thump of my pulse rushing through my ears. After a couple of minutes, a chat window popped up on my screen.

[Mrs McCrudger: I enjoyed reading your essay.]
[Me: ty]
[Mrs McCrudger: You misspelled "horrible".]
[Me: sorry]
[Mrs McCrudger: I also noticed a few missing punctuation marks, and capitalization errors.]

I started rolling my eyes, caught myself, and clenched my jaw instead.

[Me: Sorry about that.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Besides that, it was well done.]
[Me: Thanks again.]
[Mrs McCrudger: Would you mind if I asked a personal question about something you wrote?]

I tried imagining what sort of question she wanted to ask, then shrugged as I started typing again.

[Me: More personal than what I sent?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Perhaps not more personal, but on a similar level.]
[Me: I guess so.]

The clatter of my friends typing began to drop off.

[Mrs McCrudger: Pardon me a moment. I need to review the other essays.]
[Me: Sure.]

I waited for the principal read what my friends wrote, and pass messages back and forth with them. It gave me plenty of time to wonder if maybe I should have been more polite in my essay. It also gave me time to worry about what Mrs McCrudger wanted to ask me.

Eventually, a few dots at the bottom of my chat window pulsed, letting me know the principal was sending a new message.

[Mrs McCrudger: You mentioned feeling all students should be allowed to dress how they want, and go where they want, and identify with what gender feels best to them.]
[Me: I said that?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Well, I'm paraphrasing, but that seemed to be what you were saying. Was I mistaken?]

I shift-tabbed to my essay window, read through what I had written, then switched back to the chat window.

[Me: I guess I did say all that. Just not the exact same words.]
[Mrs McCrudger: With that in mind, is there a specific gender with which you most identify?]
[Me: I guess boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: You're not sure?]
[Me: I never thought of being anything else.]

I thought back to my session with the school therapist.

[Me: At least not before today.]
[Mrs McCrudger: What happened today?]
[Me: I learned about delicates, and delicate boys. I think I'm a delicate boy.]
[Mrs McCrudger: I see. Would you like your mother to sign a form, confirming your gender identity?]

My throat tightened as I thought about that.

[Me: Why do you ask?]
[Mrs McCrudddger: It's a topic which came up when she asked to see me.]
[Me: You saw my mom?]
[Mrs McCruger: That is correct.]
[Me: Where?]
[Mrs McCruger: In my office.]

"Oh jeez," I whispered as I typed with fingers that were almost too numb to feel the keys.

[Me: She's here?]
[Mrs McCrudger: Yes, and she'd like to speak to you.]

Before I could ask what my mom wanted to say to me, the principal stood up and said, "Thank you for your essays. I'll be giving what each of you said serious consideration tonight. You're all dismissed."

"All of us?" I asked as I grabbed my backpack.

Mrs McCrudger looked at me and said, "We need to discuss something in my office first."

=-=-=

Terror took away all ability to speak as I followed behind the principal. By the time we reached her office, I'd been able to do enough breathing exercises to bring myself down to just really worried.

Mom was sitting in a chair in front of the principal's desk when I walked into the office. She smiled and said, "Hello, sweetie. How was your day?"

I stared as I walked closer to her. I stood in front of her, and stared some more. "That's the first question you have for me?"

She pursed her lips, then frowned as she asked, "What should have been my first question?"

"I dunno," I said as I flopped into the chair next to her. "Maybe something like, 'Hey, Tommy, my one and only son ... why are you wearing a skirt?' "

My mom smiled again as she said, "I figured you'd tell me about that when you're ready."

"And ... you're not freaked out?"

"Well, I was a little surprised, but not 'freaked out'."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why should I be?"

" 'Cause I'm a boy!"

Mrs McCrudger lowered herself into the leather chair behind her desk as she said, "Does that mean there's a part of your essay which doesn't accurately reflect how you feel?"

I gave the principal a confused look. "Which part ya talking about?"

She started typing as she said, "The part where you said people should be able to wear what they'd like to wear."

"I ... uhhh ... well, I guess ... yeah, people aughta be able to where what they want."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said while clicking her mouse. The printer behind her began humming as she asked, "Is what you're wearing now something you'd like to wear in the future?"

"I dunno," I said as I looked down at my bare knees.

Mom reached under my chin, and turned my head, until I was looking into her deep blue eyes. "What don't you know?"

"Lotsa stuff."

"Such as?"

I shrugged and said, "Stuff like, why I like pretty stuff, even though I'm a boy; or why girls get to wear boy stuff, but boys ain't allowed to wear girl stuff; or why ya got mad at me when I'd tried putting on that shirt."

My mom blinked and shook her head. "I don't understand. What shirt?"

"The one I'd been trying on in the girl's department, when you'd took me shopping for school clothes."

Her forehead wrinkled. A couple of seconds later, her brows shot up. "Are you talking about when you were six, and you'd wandered off with some strange girl?"

"She wasn't strange," I said. I thought about how she'd talked a boy into wearing girl clothes, then said, "Well, maybe a little strange, but she was nice too."

"Perhaps, but you still shouldn't have-" Mom's eyes widened as she said, "Wait a minute, you thought I was upset about the shirt you were trying on, because it was a girl's shirt?"

"Well ... yeah."

She reached across the space between our chairs, and patted my hand. "Sweetheart, I was upset because ... I thought I'd lost you. It had nothing to do with what you wanted to wear."

"So ... ya don't mind me dressing like this?" I asked.

Not at all," she said as she squeezed my hand.

I gulped and squeezed back. "What about me calling myself a delicate boy, instead of just a boy?"

For a second, it looked like she was going to ask something, then she smiled and said, "If you're okay with it, then so am I."

"If you're sure about that," Mrs McCrudger said as she slid a sheet of paper towards my mom, "would you mind signing this form?"

=-=-=

"I see you know how to get into a car while wearing a skirt," my mom said as I slid into the passenger seat.

"I've watched ya do it tons of times," I said while pulling my legs in.

"I'd noticed," Mom said as she buckled herself in.

I slammed my door closed, then latched my seatbelt as I asked, "Why didn't ya say anything?"

Mom was quiet for a long while, then said, "When you were younger, I suspected you might be transgender."

"Really?"

She nodded and said, "At least, I did at first. There was something about you that was ..."

"Delicate?" I asked.

"That's a good description," she said as she nodded. "But, as you got older, you changed."

"I didn't seem as delicate any more?"

"Not exactly. It was more as if ... you wanted to keep that part of you hidden. Whenever I tried drawing you out, you tended to be defensive, and evasive. Eventually, I figured it might be best if I didn't keep pressing the issue, and let you decide when you were ready to talk to me."

My throat and chest ached when I thought back, and realized how much effort I'd put into shutting her out. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

"You've nothing to be sorry about," she said as she brushed a strand of hair over my ear. "Whether your my son, or daughter, or anything else, I love you, and I'll always be there to support you."

That's when I started bawling.

After a long hug, and several tissues later, I smiled and said, "Thanks so much, Mom."

My mom smiled as she hitched my buckle back up, then got herself buckled in. "Any time, sweetie." She started up the car, then said, "I think we need a treat."

"Ya mean, like ... ice cream?"

Mom nodded and said, We could do that, but maybe we should go shopping first."

"What we need to go shopping for?"

"School clothes."

"I already got my uniform." I thought about the UPX package still hiding in one of the boxes at our new home, and said, "Make that uniforms."

"Good point. How about casual clothes?"

"I got those too."

"Are you happy with them?"

"Well ..."

"I thought so," Mom said as she pulled away from the curb. She gave me a warm smile as she said, "You're old enough to know what you do and don't like to wear." She grinned as she added, "Let's go find what that is."

=-=-=

The End

Below is a list of the characters who have appeared in my story so far. When new chapters are posted, all new names will be added to this list. If you have any questions about the list, feel free to send me a private message, or add a comment here. :)

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

Thomas (Tommy) Kayleigh Tracy - main character

Angela Tracy - Tommy's mom

Richelle (Richie) Hernandez - hall monitor Tommy meets while entering school

Felicity Etcherson - principal's administrative assistant

Margaret McCrudger - school principal

Theresa Cho - Tommy's first period teacher

Victor (Vic) Brunford - boy Tommy meets in first period class

Orville (Griff) Griffins - bully who harasses both Vic and Tommy

Christine (Chrissy) Jackson - girl Tommy meets in second period class

Eric Mason - Tommy's second period teacher

Anne Korvin - school therapist

Jessica (Jessi) O'Donnell - shorter girl Tommy meets in girl's restroom

Tanya Franklin - taller girl Tommy meets in girl's restroom

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=
Delicate and rugged are identifiers for those who might consider describing themselves as feminine or masculine, but don't want to use words so strongly linked with whatever bits someone has. They can also be used as replacements for female and male, if you're looking for a somewhat neutral, but still nuanced gender.

Below is a list of pronouns for those who use delicate or rugged as a gender.

Types of Pronouns:	subjective	objective	weak	strong	reflexive
Delicate Pronouns:	de	dem	des	dems	demself
Rugged Pronouns:	ru	rum	rus	rums	rumself

Richie's Story
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

Have you ever wondered what was going through Richie's head when when she met Tommy in "For Want of a Comma"? Well, now you can! While this peek into Richie's experience covers only a few chapters from FWoaC, I thought people might find it interesting seeing things from a different perspective. Enjoy! :)

=-=-=

I stood a little closer to one of the hedges near the school's front entrance, grateful for the way they helped block the late September breeze that kept trying to blow up my skirt. I leaned against the sun-warmed bricks behind me, and could almost hear my abuela scolding me for slouching like a boy.

I was thinking about the argument I'd had with her about the 'proper' way I should dress and act, when a car pulled up to the student drop-off area. A cool wind swirled around my legs when I took a couple of steps away from the building. I wondered if maybe I should have gone with the tights my abuela had gotten for me. They were only a little girlier than my socks, but might have kept my legs warmer.

A few minutes later, a boy climbed out of the car. At least, it was someone who looked like a boy, but with a body language that practically screamed girl. I thought back to the transgender inclusiveness presentation Dr Korvin had given at the start of the school year. One of the genders she had talked about popped into my head.

Transgirl!

After hearing the way she yelped when someone in the car startled her, and seeing how she crouched down to look into the car, instead of bending at the waist, told me my guess was probably right. My heart beat a little faster when she started walking towards me. I barely noticed the cold when the wind gusted.

The shy way she looked at the ground as she walked up to the front entrance made me want to leap to her rescue. The way she tried to push open a sliding door made me want to laugh. I ignored the urge to do both, and said, "Ya gotta tap to get in."

I smiled and asked if she was new, but all I could get out of her was a nod. The way she was shaking like a leaf, I half expected her to blow away when the wind picked up again. Realizing she might be too nervous to talk, I concentrated on being helpful, and asked for her ID card.

I caught the card just before it slipped out of her fingers. "Tracy Thomas?" I asked after reading it. I still couldn't get more than a nod out of her, so I introduced myself, showed her how to use the scanner, then stepped through the open doorway.

When I saw her just standing there outside the doorway, I told her to hurry in, which may not have been the best idea. She plowed into me, which hurt, but probably not as bad as when she smacked the back of her head into the door that had closed behind her.

I held onto her shoulders when I saw how wobbly she was looking. "You okay?" I asked while waiting for her to pull herself back together.

Instead of getting mad at me for blocking her way, Tracy stared at the ground and said, "Sorry for being so clumsy, Richelle."

Seeing her looking so miserable broke my heart. I reached out, tilted her head up, and found myself falling into her sky blue eyes."It's all good," I said as my heart thumped faster, then added, "you can call me Richie, if you'd like."

Hearing her mention needing to get to class made me realize I'd been staring at her. My cheeks warmed as I pulled my hand away. I switched to hall monitor mode to hide my embarrassment, and lead the way to the office.

When I saw the lost look in Tracy's eyes, I was almost tempted to follow her into the office. If I knew of anyone who could cover for me as the front door monitor, I might have done that. Instead, I let her know who to go to for help, offered a warm welcome, then gave her a friendly wink as the door closed.

I'm not sure if my feet touched the ground when I wandered back to my post. All the way there, I found myself wondering how I could get away with seeing her again, without coming across as some sort of stalker.

=-=-=

The boy who had the next shift for door monitor arrived half a dozen seconds before the homeroom release bell rang. I ran for the office, dodged the hordes piling out of the classrooms, then smiled when I saw Tracy step into the hallway.

"Hey, Tracy!" I shouted, then picked up my pace when she looked my way. I stopped short a few feet away from her, and said, "Whoa," when I saw how cute she looked in her uniform. Not that she hadn't already look cute in a t-shirt and jeans, but it was like the dial had now been turned up to eleven.

"Lookin' proud and true in the red and blue!" I said when my brain cells started firing again. A couple other students chimed in as they went by. I explained their reaction as school spirit when Tracy asked, then tried to find out if there might be any chance of us being in the same class.

As the fates would have it, I wasn't in her class. Fortunately, I did know her teacher, so I said, "If you'd like, I could walk ya to her class, and do intro's." When she went back into shy mode, saying she didn't want to be a bother, I looped my arm through hers as I let her know it wasn't a problem at all.

I smiled as I led the way down the hall, wondering how I got lucky enough to meet someone like Tracy.

=-=-=

The hallway was nearly empty by the time by the time I'd dropped off the new girl at her class. The first period bell finished ringing as I knocked on the school therapists door.

"Come in!" Dr Korvin called out. The prettiest redhead who I'd never admit to having ever had a crush on stood up as I walked into the office. "It's so good to see you," she said as she held out a hand.

I shook her hand, and definitely didn't crush on her some more, as I said, "It's good to see you too!"

Once we were both seated, she asked, "How'd your weekend go?"

I sighed, then said, "Not too bad."

The therapist smiled as she narrowed her eyes. "Does 'not too bad' include you talking to your grandmother about what we discussed last week?"

"Sorta," I said as I shrugged.

Her brows rose as she asked, "Care to elaborate?"

As much as I didn't want to relive another argument with my abuela, I knew Dr Korvin would eventually drag it out of me, so I said, "Well, I did tell her I liked girls."

The therapist gave me a huge smile as she said, "That's wonderful!" Her smile shrank a little as she said, "At least, I hope it was."

I waggled my hand in the air as I said, "Más o menos."

"Ah," she said as she nodded. "So ... it was wonderful, more or less?"

"Maybe not wonderful, but it was okay. Well ... part of it was okay."

"Which part was okay?" she asked as her forehead wrinkled.

"The good part is, she's totally okay with me liking girls."

"And the bad part?" she asked in a soft voice.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh, "She thinks I act like a boy, 'cause I believe only boys can like girls."

Dr Korvin's sigh sounded almost as frustrated as mine. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know how hard it can be dealing with someone who has difficulty separating gender and orientation."

I frowned and asked, "How ya know what it's like?"

She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "When I told my father about my fiancé, he went into a guilt trip about turning me into a boy, by trying to raise me on his own."

Once I scooped my heart off the floor, and shoved it back into my chest, I said, "I didn't know ya had a fiancé."

The therapist got a dreamy look in her eyes. "She's the love of my life."

"She?"

When Dr Korvin nodded, I felt a spark of hope when I realized what that meant. The spark fizzled when I remembered what fiancé meant. I hung my head, and tried to ignore the ache in my chest.

"You okay, mija?" she asked as she stroked the back of my head.

Having her call me her daughter wasn't exactly what I'd always dreamed of hearing her say. I could never think of her as a mother. Still ... the warmth and comfort reached me, even through the awkwardness. I lifted my head, put on my best smile, and said, "Not exactly, but I think I will be ... eventually."

=-=-=

I yanked a few sheets of tissue paper off the half empty roll, blew my nose, then said, "I'm happy for her." Even in the messed up state I was in, I still knew those words were only partly true. The toilet whooshed as I stood, and I tossed a handful of wadded up tissues into the bowl before it finished flushing.

I looked at my reflection after stepping out of the stall, and wondered if maybe I should have held onto the makeup I'd been given for my thirteenth birthday. I waved my hand under a faucet a few times before activating the sensor, then splashed some cool water on my face.

I was drying off with a paper towel when the bathroom door opened. "Hey Chrissy!" I said when I saw her walk in.

My friend smiled back as she said, "Good to see you!" Her smile faded when she got closer to me. "What happened?"

I rolled my paper towel into a tight ball, then tossed it into the wastebasket as I said, "I had an appointment with Dr Korvin this morning, and was talking about what happened over the weekend, and ... well ..."

"And you came out to your grandma?" Chrissy asked as she dumped her backpack on the counter.

I nodded and leaned against the sink.

"Oh no," Chrissy said while resting a hand on my arm. "Did she get all 'phobic on ya?"

"No, nothing like that happened," I said as I shook my head. "She did start harping on me about acting like a boy, though."

My friend sighed as she let her hand drop. "She still don't get the part about ya being a little more rugged than other girls?"

"Not really," I said as I shrugged. "But enough about me. How's things been going with you and Vic?"

"I'll tell you on the way to Mr Mason's class!" she shouted over the ringing of the first period release bell.

I pulled on a fresh smile. "Sounds good," I said as I followed her out of the bathroom.

He's a Witch!
Chapter 1
Copyright 2023 by Heather Rose Brown

For a long while, I've had a universe brewing in my head, where a few rare boys develop slightly differently than others. Along with those differences in development come unique abilities. The following is a short vignette, showing a glimpse into the life of one of those boys in this universe. I'm really not sure what would happen next, but I had so much fun writing this, I thought I'd share it. Just think of this as a little New Years gift. Enjoy!

The stench of urine mixed with the putrid odor of the rubbish beside me while I buttoned up my trousers.

A moment after I stepped away from the damp spot I'd made on the cinderblock wall, someone shouted, "There he is!"

I turned and saw my cousin Patrick, along with another boy I vaguely remembered from school. The boy pointed to me and asked, "Are you sure she's a witch?"

Pat's footsteps echoed against the graffitied walls of the narrow alley when he strutted towards me and said, "He ain't a she. He's a witch!"

The other boy followed half a step behind Pat while asking, "How can you tell?"

I squared my shoulders and tried to look as menacing as possible. Being at least half a head shorter than either of the approaching boys, that wasn't much. I put the deepest growl I could into my voice as I said, "Leave me alone."

Patrick grinned when he stopped in front of me, then said, "We'll leave as soon as I prove to Howard you're really a witch."

Howard frowned at my cousin while saying, "We really shouldn't be bothering a girl like this."

Pat grimaced, then said, "You really think they'd let a girl in an all boy school?"

"Well ... I guess you're right, but--"

"Listen," my cousin said, "our ma's bathed us together when we were todds, so I know he's a boy. But lately, he's been hiding something under 'em loose shirts," he added while reaching for me.

I yelped when Patrick grabbed my chest.

"What the hell," Howard said while swatting my cousin's hand away. "You don't do that to girls."

Pat scowled at the other boy. Just as he opened his mouth, the clack of thick heels came towards us, and a woman's voice called out, "What do you think you're doing?"

When the woman came to an abrupt halt beside us, my cousin turned towards her and said, "I'm just trying to prove something about my cousin to my friend here."

Even though she was an inch or more shorter, the woman still managed to tower over him while asking, "What exactly are you trying to prove?"

Patrick pointed to me and said, "That he's a witch."

"First of all," the woman said in a stern voice, "a witch should be referred to as ze, not he. Second, you have no right groping *anyone* like that. Third," she said while holding out an ID card, "I'm a certified witch, and if I catch you doing anything like that to anyone again, I'll turn you into a toad!"

My cousin's eyes widened, then he turned and ran.

Howard started trembling while watching Pat escape, then turned to the witch and said, "Please don't turn me into a toad. I hadn't meant to bother her ... I mean zer."

"Don't worry," the witch said while patting his cheek. "I know you're a good boy. Now head on home, so I can have a word with my apprentice."

The boy doffed his cap and said, "Thank you Miss ... I mean Miz," then wandered off on wobbling legs.

Once he was out of the alley, I tilted my head to better read the card in the witch's hand, then asked, "Miz Charmandine?"

"Yes dear," ze said while tucking the card into a pocket in zer skirt.

"Why'd you call me your apprentice?"

Ze raised a thin brow, then said, "Every new witch needs an apprenticeship."

I tugged at my lower lip while thinking, then asked, "How do you know if I'm a witch?"

Miz Charmandine smiled, then said, "That's one of the many things I could teach you, if you're interested in developing the skills needed to become a witch."

I smiled back, then said, "I ... I'd really like that."

He's a Witch!
Chapter 2
Copyright 2023 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter, our witch in training learns a little about being a witch, and couple of very special wishes are shared.

Miz Charmandine linked arms with me, then led the way to the entrance of the cramped alley we were in while saying, "Come along, Philbert."

I blinked a few times while ze guided us around the splintered remains of a wooden crate, then asked, "How'd you--"

"Oh wait," ze said, then squinted at me for a second. "You go by ... Bert ... right?"

"Actually, I prefer Bertie, but ... how in the world did you know my name?"

Ze smiled while tapping my nose with the tip of zer finger, then asked, "Did you already forget I'm a witch?"

I shook my head, then said, "I guess I have a lot to learn about being a witch."

Zer smile grew when ze said, "I'm looking forward to teaching you."

As we moved from the shadows of the alley to a sunny sidewalk, Miz Charmandine asked, "Which way would we need to go to visit your home?"

I skidded to a stop, then asked, "My ... home?"

The witch let go of my arm before turning to me, then said, "Of course. We need to let your parents or guardians know the good news."

A chill ran through me. "I ... I'm not sure if Mama will consider this a *good* thing."

Ze looked to the well paved street beside us when a magic carriage rumbled past, then turned back to me and asked, "Is she a witch hater, or a separatist, or something similar?"

"Oh no," I said while waving my hands. "It's nothing like that. It's just ... after my da was lost at sea a few years ago, rumors started going around. Some folk were saying the cargo ship he'd been on had been cursed by a witch. Since then, she's been afraid of witches."

Ze guided a long strand of hair over my ear, then asked, "Would you rather not tell her?"

My heart sank when I tried to imagine a way of telling my mother about my witch training without frightening her. Eventually, I asked, "Would it be okay if I didn't?"

Miz Charmandine nodded and said, "Of course." Zer expression flitted from worried, to something unreadable. "We'll just have to be careful."

When I saw the change, I crossed my arms, ignoring the mild pain that caused, and asked, "What do we need to be careful of?"

Instead of answering my question, ze asked, "Are they getting tender?"

I raised my arms to better hide my chest, then tried not to wince while asking, "What 'they' are you talking about?"

"Dearheart," ze said while resting a hand on my shoulder, "I've gone through all the changes you're going through, and I can help."

I stopped breathing for a moment, then asked, "Can you ... fix me?"

There was regret in zer eyes when ze let go of my shoulder and said, "If you mean what I think you mean, then ... no. On the other hand, I do have something back at my shop which can relieve the physical discomfort you're experiencing."

Disappointment battled with a sliver of hope when I asked, "How much will it cost?"

Ze clicked zer tongue, then said, "Witches don't charge other witches for helping them."

"Wow!" I said while lowering my arms. "I'd really appreciate that."

The witch smiled and said, "Then follow me," before leading the way down the street.

After several minutes of walking, we approached a dark green door. The wrought iron sign above it read 'Apothecary' beside a stained glass mortar and pestle image. A cloying, flowery perfume wafted towards us when we got closer to the older woman waiting in front of the door.

"Good afternoon, Madam Brekstone," Miz Charmandine said when we stopped near her.

The woman turned to us and said, "Oh, finally." She gave the witch a strained smile before saying, "I'm glad you're back." She studied me from head to toe and back again, then frowned and mumbled something under her breath.

"I beg your pardon," the witch said as zer brows rose. "What was that?"

"I just ..." the woman said while turning her attention back to Miz Charmandine. She huffed while patting some of the black and silver curls framing her face, then said, "I'm still trying to get used to seeing girls in trousers."

My stomach tightened. While bullies at school often called me a girl, this was the first time an adult had done that.

My soon-to-be teacher frowned and said, "We're in a new age, Madam."

"I know," the woman answered while brushing at her skirt. "Ladies are receiving real educations, husbands are caring for their children, and laws are being overturned by an enlightened society. None the less," she said before turning to me, "wouldn't you rather be wearing a pretty dress?"

I tried to answer, but all I could manage were half-formed stuttering noises. Miz Charmandine lifted a hand, then stroked the back of my head while making a shushing sound. My scalp tingled where ze touched it, and my terror faded away.

While I was trying to figure out what happened, the witch asked, "Had there been something specific you wanted to see me about, Madam Brekstone?"

"Well ... yes," the woman said, then blushed while glancing between me and Miz Charmandine. "I was just hoping you might have more of that wonderful ... product you provided last month."

"You poor thing," the witch said while lowering zer hand from the back of my head. "Have you run out already?"

"Not quite yet, but I didn't want to wait too long, and risk ... those symptoms again."

"Perfectly understandable. Do you you have enough to last you through today?"

"Oh yes, but I won't be able to come back for a refill tomorrow, because I'll be acting as hostess for my husbands debate club then."

"I see," the witch said, then draped an arm across my shoulders while adding, "I do have a client at the moment, but if you're willing to wait until we're done, I can see you next."

Madam Brekstone looked to me, peeked at my chest, then looked back up and asked, "Have you started to--" She covered her mouth with well manicured fingers, then said, "I beg your pardon, sweetheart." She turned to Miz Charmandine and said, "I'll try coming back later."

The witch's brows were pinched with worry when ze asked, "Are you sure?"

The woman grinned at zer and said, "Of course. My husband thinks I'm shopping for a new gown, so he won't be expecting me home for quite a while." Her grin turned into a warm smile when she looked at me and said, "Don't worry, young lady. You're in good hands."

While I was closing the shop door behind me, Miz Charmandine flung open a pair of red velvet drapes. All the bottles and jars lining the shelves sparkled in the golden sunlight coming through the uncovered window. I looked up, and found bundles of dried plants hanging from the rafters.

I breathed in the scent of sage, as well as some less familiar herbs, then asked, "Why are people starting to think I'm a girl?"

The witch picked up a squat, light-purple jar from one of the lower shelves, then turned to me and said, "When witchlings hit puberty, some of the ways they develop is very similar to what happens with girls."

Zer answer brought up a number of questions, but I settled on asking, "What's a witchling?"

"A witchling is many things," ze said. "One of which is someone who could make use of this," ze added while holding the jar out to me.

A variation of an old question hovered at the back of my mind as I accepted the gift. I opened my mouth, let it close again, then lowered my head and sighed.

"Go ahead and ask your question," Miz Charmandine said in a quiet voice.

My eyes were stinging when I looked up and asked, "Do you know what my question is?"

The witch nodded and said, "I think I do, but it's also something you need to say out loud."

I nodded back, then asked, "Can a witchling ... become a girl?"

Ze took in a deep breath, then said, "Just as there are things only witchlings can do, there's also things only girls can do." A damp, crystal bead slid down zer cheek. "There's also some things only women are allowed to do, which a few very stubborn witches wish they could do as well."

The tears I'd been trying to hold back started leaking when I asked, "Is there really no hope?"

Ze sniffled, then gave me a wide, if somewhat watery smile, and said, "We're in a new age. Old assumptions are being questioned. Incredible discoveries are being made." Ze brushed my bangs out of my eyes, then said, "Perhaps, if we're lucky, both of our wishes will come true."

Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown
The entries listed below are drabble cycles, which is a set of related but not necessarily chronological stories, each exactly 100 words in length. The stories in this particular drabble cycle give unique glimpses into the life of a transgendered woman who's fallen for someone who demonstrates what real, unconditional love really means.

Barrettes
Copyright 2022 by Heather Rose Brown

This is a drabble (100 word story) about a boy who decides to trust some new friends, and experiments with something he'd never had the nerve to try at home. It's a continuation of my Pigtails drabble, but told from Lenny's point of view.

=-=-=

I fidgeted on the shag carpet of a very pink bedroom. My heart thumped while I waited for the kids sitting in front of me to laugh. Neither of them did that.

Instead, Danny smiled at me, and Shel said, "Ya look cute in barrettes."

I reached up and touched one of the plastic things holding my bangs in place.

Bangs. Dad flipped the last time I used that word. But ... he wasn't here.

I smiled back at Dan, then turned to Shelly and said, "Could I ..." I took a deep breath, then tried again. "Could I try a ... dress?"