---

 

---

 

---

Note: If you have not read The Summer of Bailey, I highly suggest you do before reading this story. There is a lot of background information on characters, more importantly the main character. I hope you enjoy the story, and as always, comments are more than welcome. ~Taylor

---

 

---

 
Part 1

I tapped my pencil in a steady rhythm against the open book in front of me. Pre-algebra happened to be at the top of my list among most hated things so far that school year. Even worse, I was faced with it the first hour of every school day. I couldn't understand why anyone would choose to go into a line of work involving this heaping mix of numbers and letters. Maybe it was just to torture other people who didn't understand it.

At least I did fairly well in the rest of my subjects. Tiffany had made some wildly stereotypical suggestion that women just weren't that good at math. She happened to be doing fine with it, better than me, in fact. No, it was me. It was just something there on the list of things I couldn't do, like make new friends. I couldn't even hold onto the ones I had.

So far I had managed to lose most of my friends from elementary school. Some went to another school in the district, and out of those, I managed to stay in touch with one, Matt Turner. We didn't really see much of each other, but kept telling each other we should make plans to hang out. My closest friends, Eric Stevens and his twin brother Chris, stuck around for lack of friends on their end, but we seldom talked outside of school.

Tom, my stepfather, held true to his promise. He managed to get my name changed to Bailey after all before the start of the school year. Though it didn't go over as well as I thought it would. At school I had to defend the change. I settled on an elaborate explanation of how a family member, with the same name, had died over the summer, so my mom had it changed as a tribute to him. This sold, but I still received some odd questions about it.

Most of my problems came from a boy named Jason Coleman. On an ordinary Tuesday, from out of the blue, Jason cornered me in the boy's bathroom between classes. He used his body to invade my space until he had me blocked between two sinks. I had no problems with Jason to begin with, but for some reason he had taken a particular interest in pushing me around. Try as I might to avoid him, Jason always found some opportunity to attack when I was vulnerable.

"You are such a sissy," Jason said.

"I'm going to be late for class," I said, trying to push past him.

"You wear panties like a sissy too?" Jason asked. He reached down toward my waist, causing me to jump back in my hole.

My face must have turned beet red. Jason laughed, as he put down one hand on the edge of each sink. He had at least three inches of height on me, and quite a few more pounds. His body felt like a wall now when I tried to push against him. I could tell we weren't playing around anymore. Confined to a space no bigger than my body, I gave up trying to escape.

If Jason knew how close he had come to answering that question, he would have flipped. I honestly did have panties on. They were cute little cotton bikini briefs, white, but with pale pink trim. Jason didn't know I wore them. In fact, only Tiffany knew I chose to wear panties still. I had gotten used to the feel of panties, and I figured since I didn't have gym until the next semester, I would continue to wear them.

"Did you just come in here to insult me?" I asked.

From what I knew about Jason, he wasn't the typical bully. He liked to humiliate people by knocking books from their hands, or tripping them in the hallway. However, he never physically injured anyone, at least not yet. I heard his dad moved around a lot for his job, so Jason probably never got adjusted to any one place. It really didn't excuse his rude behavior, but I could kind of connect with him being an outsider.

"It took me awhile to figure it all out," Jason said. "At first I thought you were gay with all of those girls hanging around you." He shook his head slowly. "But then I actually saw you kissing on that one in the hall…"

"What do you want?" I asked, a bit begrudgingly.

"A date," Jason said, standing up proudly.

"Forget it," I said. "I'm not going out with you."

"Not me smartass," Jason said. "I meant with one of your friends."

I tilted my head to the left. "Who?"

Jason grinned from ear to ear. "I like Tracy." He glanced at the door to make sure nobody came in. "You're obviously good around girls, so I was wondering if you could get us together."

"I could try," I said. "She isn't with anyone."

"Yeah," Jason said. "I don't want you to do the whole 'hook up' thing though." He leaned back. "In fact, I kinda wanna make it look like a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Jason shrugged. "Maybe run into each other at the mall? Something like that." He straightened up, showing his height over me. "You tell anyone I asked for your help, and I swear I'll make your life miserable. I don't wanna look desperate."

"Relax," I said. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Good," Jason said. "Like I said, you're pretty good with girls. Like you understand them or something." The warning bell for classes rang, and he took a step forward. "You sure you aren't one?" A grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

"We done?" I asked.

"For now," Jason said. "And hey… if it doesn't work out with Tracy…" He raised his right hand to caress my cheek. "I could always make you my girlfriend." He gave me a lustful look.

I slapped Jason's hand away and pushed past him. His hand went up to comb through his bushy brown hair. He let me through, but made me brush up against him as much as possible. I could hear him laughing at me, but I didn't dare look at him. My eyes became misty. I broke free from the bathroom and rushed to my next class.

Even though none of the guys in school knew anything of my summer as a girl, they all seemed to point out that I'd be better off as one. Maybe I showed too much pain in my reaction to their teasing. Maybe I couldn't hide my feelings very well. Whatever the case was, the boys who bullied me, over my girly aspects, drove harder and harder to torture me. It usually left me running to some place where I could hide my eyes from them.

Only at the present I couldn't take the time to hide. I slid into my seat, next to Tracy Young, right as the tardy bell rang. We had the fortune of being lab partners for science class. Though we did very little lab work that year, it was a pleasant opportunity to get to know her. Our last names, mine being Walker, just happened to put us in seats next to each other. Honestly, it was nice to sit next to someone I knew.

"You okay?" Tracy asked in a whisper.

"I'm fine," I said, remembering Jason saying not to tell anyone.

"You look like you're about to cry," Tracy said.

"It's nothing… really," I said, looking at her with the best fake smile I could muster.

"You sure?" Tracy asked. "You didn't meet me and Tiffany like you usually do after homeroom."

"I hit my elbow on a locker," I said, "and went to the bathroom to check it out."

"Which elbow?" Tracy asked, now even more concerned. "Did you get cut, or bruised?"

"No," I said. I wanted to just tell her Jason liked her and get it over with. "It's fine. I swear."

"Tracy? Bailey?" the teacher said, his voice booming across the classroom. "Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

"No Mister Jackson," Tracy said.

I turned to look at Mr. Jackson, and shook my head. "No sir."

"Good," Mr. Jackson said. "Save it for between classes next time."

My head dropped. I continued to look down as I slid my science book over in front of me. Mr. Jackson told us a page to turn to, and I opened the book up. After turning to the right page, I placed my hands, palms down, on each side of the book. One of the students up front started to read through a paragraph. Tracy turned the page in her book next to me. Without even thinking about it, I turned mine to match.

I stared at my nails. Just this past Friday, as soon as I got home from school, I had painted them bright pink for the weekend. Now they were plain and ordinary. I had even clipped them short to keep up appearances of being a boy. Apparently appearances weren't good enough. With one quick glance, Jason, along with other boys, could tell I appeared to always be within one step of being a girl.

Something about me had to change. I couldn't go on having one person after another tease me that way. They would eventually find out about my secret. In fact, a few too many people knew about my secret already. I looked at Tracy sitting next to me. Tiffany had told her after the pool party, and that set about a chain reaction of eight people knowing. Tracy glanced up and gave me a concerned look.

"Could you give an example of what we just read Bailey?" Mr. Jackson asked.

Oh no! I frantically looked back at my book, and glanced up at Mr. Jackson. The look on his face was not one of amusement. He patiently waited for me to say something, but I didn't have a clue what we had just read. Why did teachers like to call someone out like that? Two could play this game.

"Which part?" I asked.

"About chain reactions," Mr. Jackson said.

"Oh…" That was an easy one. Hell, it was like we were on the same page even. "Like if you tell somebody a secret, and they tell it to someone else…" Classmates were starting to stare at me now, including Tracy. "Then that person could tell other people… causing a chain reaction."

"More of a social aspect of the topic, but good answer." Mr. Jackson raised his left eyebrow. "Sort of like one person not paying attention, and causing others to not pay attention?"

"Yes sir," I said, ignoring the other kids snickering at me.

"I'd like to see you after class Bailey," Mr. Jackson said.

"Yes sir," I said, lowering my voice and head at the same time.

Great! Now I could look forward to missing another between class break. I couldn't wait for this day to end. The problem was, I had six more hours of school to manage somehow. Hopefully it wouldn't be more with detention. I decided to make an effort to pay attention, so I wouldn't get into anymore trouble. The rest of class felt like it dragged on for hours.

"Test Thursday," Mr. Jackson said as the bell rang. "We'll go over the material tomorrow."

"I'll catch up with you at lunch," Tracy said, tugging at the sleeve of my dark green t-shirt.

The rest of the kids scurried out of the room. I looked up at Mr. Jackson, and he ushered me forward with his index finger. My book clapped shut, and I slid it, along with my notebook, across the Formica table into my left arm. I pushed the chair back, and reluctantly stood up. Then I shuffled up the aisle to the front of the classroom, and stopped in front of the teacher's desk.

"Is something bothering you today Bailey?" Mr. Jackson said.

Like I would tell him? "It's just a personal matter," I said. "Nothing big."

"Well I hope it doesn't grow into a disruption in my class."

"It won't Mister Jackson," I said. "I'm sorry about today."

"You're a bright kid," Mr. Jackson said. "I'm going to take your word for it. Just get it taken care of, okay?"

"I will Mister Jackson," I said. "Thank you."

"That's all," he said.

"See you tomorrow Mister Jackson," I said.

"Have a good day Bailey."

I turned to stroll away. As I walked down the aisle toward the door in the back, Megan Seong walked into the room. A girl named Rachel Ford gabbed about something next to her. Rachel knew a lot of the popular kids, and for some reason latched on to Megan. It did volumes to boost Megan's self-confidence, and Rachel, not knowing anything about Megan actually being a boy, helped her to fit in even more. Megan smiled at me.

"What about Bailey?" Megan asked Rachel, as she gestured toward me.

Rachel turned to look at me. "Oh, sure! Bailey can come."

"Come to what?" I asked.

"I'm having a Halloween party at my house," Rachel said, glancing around to make sure nobody else came in the room. "Costumes… and invite only."

"That means don't tell anyone else," Megan said.

"What about Tiffany?" I asked.

"Already told her," Rachel said. "She's excited about it."

"Cool," I said. "I gotta run to my next class."

"This weekend still on?" Megan asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean I think…" I thought about my arrangement with Jason. "I'll have to see."

"Okay," Megan said. "Well… see you later I guess."

"Later," I said.

The next two classes, English and social studies, were boring beyond all compare. I didn't know a single person in either of the two classes, and nobody bothered to talk to me. By the end of September I'd grown used to it. Now it was the first full week of October, and I found myself simply concentrating on my work. The only positive that came out of any of those two classes, was that the two A grades made up for my lacking C in pre-algebra.

Lunch afterwards made up for everything third and fourth periods lacked. I got to eat lunch with Tiffany, Tracy and Danielle. Though Danielle was extremely nosey, and a bit of a gossip, she was starting to grow on me. Tiffany I always wanted to see, and Tracy had grown to be a close friend too. On a good day, I was amazed we actually ate any food between all the talking.

"So what's the deal?" Tiffany said, as she set her tray down on the table. "You avoiding us or something?"

I set my milk down on my own tray after taking a sip. "I'm sorry about earlier," I said, looking up at her. "But I'm not avoiding anyone."

"Who's avoiding who?" Danielle asked, sitting down with a sack lunch.

I sighed. "Nobody is avoiding anyone."

Tiffany sat down across from me. We found out early on it was a good idea to put the table between us. A week before, we started making out at the table, and ended up getting teased by some other kids. Afterwards Tiffany felt bad about our public display of affection. So from then on we casually played footsy under the table as we ate. Danielle usually sat next to me, and Tracy usually sat next to Tiffany.

"You bring those notes for our test next hour?" Danielle asked Tracy.

"Yeah, but I missed last Monday's," Tracy said, as she slid a notebook over to Danielle. "As long as we're not tested on that, you're golden."

"Thanks," Danielle said. She started to peruse the notes as she ate.

"You okay now?" Tracy asked me.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"What happened?" Tiffany asked.

"She ran into a locker after homeroom," Tracy said.

Tiffany nudged Tracy with an elbow and gave her a cold stare.

"What?" Tracy asked.

"You said she," Tiffany said, in a hushed tone.

"Oh crap," Tracy said, looking at me. "Sorry…"

"I don't think anyone heard," I said, glancing around.

"You gotta be more careful of that," Danielle said, without looking up from the notebook. "Could cause a lot of trouble if someone found out."

"I'll just eat and try not to talk so much," Tracy said, picking up her fork.

"You still coming over today?" Tiffany asked.

"Huh?" I looked up at her.

"Tuesday…" Tiffany said. "We talked about it for like an hour Saturday…"

"Oh…" I looked down at my food. "Yeah. I almost forgot."

"I hope you remembered your note from home," Tiffany said.

"Yeah," I said. "I've had that in my bag since Sunday."

"Too bad you didn't want to do the lessons," Tiffany said. "I could've seen you every other day almost."

Tiffany referred to an arrangement I had agreed to with Melanie Parker, an assistant at the spa I had gone to that summer. Melanie had wanted to arrange for her and Kate, Tiffany's older sister, to give me lessons in how to be more feminine. After my visits to Rajan, and starting the treatments, I didn't think it wise to continue with those plans. Until I found out about my condition, I didn't think it would be the proper extracurricular activity.

"I still feel kind of bad about that," I said.

"That's why I keep bringing it up," Tiffany said. "You should've made it up to them somehow."

Tiffany gave me a look like her whole dream of keeping me as a girl for awhile had finally disappeared. She had to know it would end one day. I couldn't keep living a lie like that. Someone was bound to find out, and it just so happened someone came awfully close today. If someone like Jason found out, he could probably use it to ruin my life. Though Tiffany's sad look, across her innocent face, made me somewhat sad, I had to convince myself my decision was for the best.

"Well… hey," Tracy said. "We're still on for the weekend right?"

"I don't know," I said. I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "What if someone finds out about what we do every other weekend?"

"You weren't worried about it before," Danielle said, again, still not looking up.

"Yeah," Tracy said. "You act like you don't want to hang out with us now."

"It's not that," I said.

"Then what is it?" Tiffany asked.

I looked right at her. I looked right into her beautiful hazel eyes and lied. "I think I'm just getting adjusted to my treatment is all."

The truth was, the treatment didn't seem to be doing anything. I was scheduled to see Doctor Dinesh the following Monday. Rajan, as I called him, started me on testosterone replacement therapy. I'd told Tiffany to start with, but then later told everyone else who knew about my alter ego. They all seemed pretty supportive of me. I knew it had only been two months, but I expected to see some changes by now. Rajan kept telling me to wait until the end of the year. I secretly feared nothing would change by then.

"Megan told me you're going to Rachel's party," Tracy said, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," I said. "She caught me after science class."

"She's really changed huh?" Tracy asked.

"Who Megan?" Danielle asked.

"Yes," Tracy said. "I don't know who did it, but someone got her to open up more. She's like a whole new person."

"I really like the new Megan," I said.

"So what are you wearing?" Tiffany asked me.

"Huh?" I thought Tiffany was coming on to me for a second.

"To the party," Tiffany said. "It's a costume party?"

"Oh," I said. "I don't know yet."

"Can I plan your costume?" Tiffany asked, with a bit of excitement in her voice.

"I guess so," I said. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll make it a surprise," Tiffany said. "You'll like it though. I promise."

"So what's the deal with you and Tony?" Tracy asked Danielle.

"We're just friends," Danielle said.

"Is he single?" Tracy asked.

Danielle looked up from the notebook for once. "Why?"

"Just asking," Tracy said. "Kind of cute. I was going to talk to him, unless you're into him?"

"Go ahead," Danielle said. She looked back down at Tracy's notes. "Won't bother me any."

No! I couldn't let Tracy talk to Tony. "You sure you want to do that?" I asked Tracy.

"Talk to Tony?" Tracy asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean…" Both Tracy and Tiffany were staring at me. "I thought you didn't like him."

"He's not as bad as I thought he was," Tracy said. "People change…"

"I just think you could do better," I said.

"With who?" Tracy asked.

"I don't know," I said. I really didn't want to mention Jason by name, but I decided to test the waters. "What about Jason Coleman?"

Tracy seemed to think about my suggestion for a moment. "He's kind of cute in an adorable kind of way," she said. "I'm just not sure he's that into me." She looked at Tiffany. "Tony, on the other hand, I already know. Think there's something there."

"What's your rush to get a boyfriend anyway?" Tiffany asked.

"Comes the question from the one with a boyfriend," Danielle said, without a glance upward.

"They are fun," Tiffany said.

Tiffany looked at me and gave me a pleasant smile. I felt her shoe against my left ankle. For a while now, we had gone back to this sort of fun and flirty attitude. I think both of us wanted more, but we were too afraid, or too young to push the envelope on our relationship. She loved me, I could feel it, and I knew I loved her dearly. It just felt like we were never going to grow up fast enough to catch our love for each other.

I wanted to be more affectionate toward Tiffany, but I just wasn't in the mood. The run in with Jason had brought me down for the day. It felt like nothing could lift my spirits. Jason really hadn't done anything to me. However, had he actually been serious about his endeavor to check if I had panties on, things would be a lot worse right now. Knowing Jason, he would've kept it between us, but used the knowledge to get whatever he wanted out of me.

"You sure everything's okay?" Tiffany asked. "You're barely eating."

"I'm just not that hungry," I said.

"You know…" Tiffany leaned forward and lowered her voice. "If medication is making you sick, it's probably not good medication."

"I swear," I said, with a chuckle. "I have one day where I'm acting a little off, and you all think I'm losing it."

"It's actually been about this time every other week," Tracy said.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," Danielle said. "Seems like the week after your shot, you kind of go through this withdrawal phase."

"I haven't noticed," I said.

"That's because it probably seems normal to you," Tracy said. "You might think you're just hitting a rut."

"From our perspective," Tiffany said. "Well… we're just a little concerned is all."

"Well, I see Rajan Monday," I said. "I'll talk to him about it."

"We care about you," Tiffany said, putting her hand on mine. "Just want to see you happy."

"Yeah," Danielle said, patting my leg. "That's what it's all about."

"Mind if Rebecca and I come over today?" Tracy asked Tiffany, obviously trying to change the mood.

"Well…" Tiffany looked at me. "I'll call you when I get home. Incase Kate is doing something else." She looked at Tracy. "But yeah, it's fine with me."

I smiled at Tracy. So much for any alone time with Tiffany.

"Cool," Tracy said.

The bell rang to signal we had five minutes to clear out for the second lunch group to come in. I sighed, knowing I had an odd fifteen minute study hall ahead of me. The good thing about it was we went back to homeroom until the second lunch shift was over. This gave me a bit of an opportunity to get my pre-algebra homework somewhat done, and have my teacher right there to help with any questions.

"Guess I'll see you both later," I said.

"Yeah," Tracy said. "See you Bailey." She turned to Danielle, who was frantically trying to sneak in some last minute notes. "Come on Danielle, you got fifteen minutes to look over those."

"Alright. Fine," Danielle said. She scooted her thin frame out of the seat and looked at me. "Hope you feel better. See you later bay leaf."

"Later," I said, smiling at her newfound nickname for me.

I watched Danielle and Tracy scurry off in the direction of their homeroom. Tiffany's homeroom happened to be close to mine, so we always walked back together. It didn't give us much time at all to talk, but it was one of those things that became routine. I came around the table, and gave Tiffany a quick kiss. This was another part of lunch that became routine as well, but one I happened to enjoy.

"You sure you're okay?" Tiffany asked, as we went to put away our trays.

"I'll be fine," I said. "Hopefully this will all balance out soon."

I put my tray on a stack, and took Tiffany's hand in my right hand. She smiled at the small gesture, and joined me in a walk back to our homerooms. We strolled along the hallway in silence, trying to avoid the mess of seventh and eighth grade kids rushing to lunch. Though I was next to Tiffany, my mind was on other things entirely.

"See you in art," Tiffany said.

"See you," I said.

We shared another quick kiss, and parted ways. I watched her walk up and into her class, and then turned to go to mine. Before I could make it to the door, Jason walked past me. He made it a point to smile at me and wink. It was a subtle reminder of what we talked about. I dragged myself into homeroom. The tardy bell rang a few seconds after I slipped into my chair.

The next two classes I enjoyed for two completely different reasons. My reading teacher had this grandma-like quality to her, and a soothing voice. I didn't see my own grandmothers much, so it was sort of neat to me. Through much of the class the students would take turns reading, and we would read on our own independently. When Mrs. Fisher read, however, it felt like she brought the stories to life. She even made the boring ones interesting.

I enjoyed speech class, afterward, because Megan was in my class. Speech after speech, I got to listen to her become more open. It felt almost rewarding seeing my tiny seed of suggestion start to blossom. I knew it was all her choice, but I couldn't help thinking I had a small part in her new approach to life. It also didn't hurt to mention I loved her adorable slight accent that she picked up from her Korean father.

The typical day usually ended with relaxed fun in art, at least for that semester. I got to see Tiffany at the end of every day, as she sat next to me at a round table, which sat four. Tawny Simmons and Vanessa Holmes, two more girls who knew my secret, happened to be the other two at our table. So I got to see them at least once in a typical day as well.

Tiffany looked up from her project as I sat down. After flipping her long black hair out of the way, she gave me a pleasant smile. I returned her smile, and opened my box of art supplies. Vanessa watched us for a moment, but went back to her work without a word. Tawny was too self-absorbed in her work to pay attention to anything. I noticed Tiffany had a folded up piece of paper clenched in her left hand.

"What's that?" I asked, in a hushed voice.

"I found it in my supply box," Tiffany said. "I have no idea what it is."

Tiffany gave me a strange look, and then unfolded what appeared to be a letter. For a moment I sat and watched her read it. Her pouty lips remained straight throughout the entire letter. Then her head tilted away from me, but her hazel eyes darted up to look into mine. She gave me another strange look, like she was silently asking if the letter was a joke.

"Who's it from?" I asked, again in a hushed tone.

"I have no idea," Tiffany said.

"What's it say?" I asked.

Tiffany slid the letter over between us. "I think we might have a problem," she said. She lowered her voice even more. "It's about you."

"Me?" I asked.

Tiffany pointed at lines in the letter as she relayed them to me. "I know about your secret." Her finger moved down the paper. "And here they mention the 'cute girl' at the pool party, only…" She glanced around quickly, and then turned back to me. "Not me… but you…" She lowered her voice even more as she recited another line. "It says 'the blonde girl' that you came with."

"Who the hell could've known about that?" I asked.

"It gets worse," Tiffany said, pointing at another line in the note. "They want us to meet them at the mall on Friday." She pointed to the next sentence.

"Don't forget to wear something pretty," I said, reading it from the letter.

"Get stalked much?" Tawny asked, without lifting her head from her project.

"What should we do?" Tiffany asked.

"Let me see it," Vanessa said.

Tiffany handed her the letter before turning to look at me. "Should we do what they want?" she asked. "What if it's someone out to kill us?"

"I doubt they're out to kill anyone. Obviously it's someone who goes to school here," Tawny said. "They put it in your supply box."

"This looks like a boy's handwriting," Vanessa said.

"But there were no boys at the pool party," Tiffany said to Vanessa. "Well…" She glanced at me. "Just one pretending to be a girl."

"And Kale," I said.

"Kale's in sixth grade," Tawny said. "No way it was him."

"Well…" Vanessa looked up from the letter. "Either that, or this girl has seriously bad handwriting."

"It has to be a girl," Tiffany said. "But who?"

"Maybe we should just do what the letter says," I said.

"You think?" Tiffany asked.

"If you do," Tawny said. "You'll never see the end of it. They'll use you forever."

"What's the alternative?" I asked.

"Well they don't threaten anything," Vanessa said.

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "I mean, it doesn't look like they'll do anything if we don't show up."

"Obviously they know about me," I said. "Can't hurt to just go and do it."

"If you say so…" Tawny said.

"You know something we don't?" I asked Tawny.

"Give in once and they'll never stop," Tawny said. "Just saying."

"Yeah," Tiffany whispered. "They could do that."

"We should just do it," I said. "I'm tired of hiding from everything."

"You sure you want to?" Tiffany asked. "It's a lot of pressure on you."

"If it'll get rid of them…" I said. "Then yes!"

"Okay," Tiffany said. "I'll go with you, but I don't want us to go alone."

"We'll all go," Vanessa said. "We can sit back and see who your stalker is."

"Thanks," I said, giving Vanessa one of those you're-such-a-bitch smiles.

"Settled! Now we can work in peace," Tawny said. "This project is due next Friday you know."

"Yeah really," Vanessa said with a smirk. "Enough with the drama."

Tiffany moved away from me and went back to her project. As I worked away at copying the shading from my picture to my work, I noticed Tiffany glancing at me, from the corner of my eye. She eventually got up from the table and went to sharpen her pencil. I took this opportunity to get Vanessa's attention.

"You really think it's a guy?" I asked in a whisper.

"Most likely," Vanessa said. "Handwriting is horrible."

"What if…" I glanced around. "What if he wants to like date me, or something?"

"Just take him back to Tiffany's. Maybe she can turn him into a girl too," Vanessa said. "Then some boy can bug him for dates."

Tawny giggled along with Vanessa, but they stopped when they saw I only gave them a half-hearted smile. They lowered their heads back to the projects, almost as if in shame at what they said. However, what they said happened to be an awesome idea. Only I was thinking about doing it to Jason. Maybe I could talk Tracy into dressing him up and taking pictures. Although, he'd have to be agreeable to it like I was the first time.

"Maybe I could talk him into it," I said.

"You?" Vanessa asked. "I don't think you got the whole seduction thing down yet."

"I could try to learn it," I said, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

"Think you better stick to the basics," Tawny said.

"Yeah," Vanessa said. "You still got a lot to learn."

"Who the hell else was at that pool party?" I asked.

"Maybe they weren't there at all," Tiffany said, taking her seat again.

"Yeah," Vanessa said. "Maybe their sister was there, and they found out that way."

"Could've been a neighbor," Tiffany said.

"Well whoever it is, they know about you now," Tawny said. "Can't change that fact." She looked up at me with her bright green eyes. "Let's face it. Not much about you has changed, other than your hair and clothes."

"And your hair hasn't changed that much since the roller rink either," Vanessa said.

"Too bad you didn't hit a growth spurt that weekend," Tawny said.

"This is bugging the hell out of me," I said.

"Just work on your art," Tiffany said. "We'll find out who it is."

Meanwhile, I had until Friday to think about it. I shook my head, and went back to my project. Truth be told, I was seriously falling behind on it. Perhaps I had too much fun in art class. Between talking to the three of them, and the short amount of time we had, I didn't get much accomplished the past few weeks. I'm surprised the teacher never separated us from each other.

I went over a section of my picture with a pencil. Then I came back to it and rubbed out a shadow with a blending stump. Art class always relaxed me. Even in grade school, it took my mind off of other subjects for a little while. It even managed to take my mind off of the subject of the letter for the rest of the day. Before long we were cleaning up to go home.

"Remember this Friday I'll be taking pictures of you all for your next project," Ms. Fritz said. "So wear something nice to school." She looked at the clock on the wall. "It doesn't have to be fancy, but at least look presentable."

The bell rang, and we all moved like a thunderous herd to get out of the classroom. After a visit to my locker for the books I needed, I moved along the hallway toward the front of the school. Before I could reach the door to take me outside to the busses, Jason appeared in my field of vision. He spotted me and stormed toward me.

"Did you say something to Tracy?" Jason asked.

"I might have mentioned your name," I said.

"Why?" Jason's face contorted into a beleaguered look. "I thought I told you --"

"Relax!" I said. "It's just…" I glanced around to make sure there were no familiar faces. "She was talking about liking some other boy, so I had to get her mind off of it."

"Who?"

"Tony Woods," I said. "She's been asking about him for awhile now."

"Oh…" Jason ran his hand through his hair. He seemed distraught. "What did she say about me?"

"She actually thinks you're cute," I said.

"I'm cute?" Jason asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You're cute."

I might have said it a bit too loud. A couple of girls snickered at us as they walked by. Jason glanced around, obviously not amused by what just happened. He pushed me up against the lockers, but not as hard as he usually did to people. His face lowered to mine, and I swear if he was a dog, he would be growling at me at this moment.

"You didn't tell her our plan did you?" Jason asked, in a hushed and somewhat angry voice.

"No," I said. "But…" I could see anger building in his eyes so I blurted the next part out as fast as possible. "We're all going to the mall Friday. Hopefully she'll be there."

"Really?" Jason looked surprised. He straightened his posture back out. "That could work…"

I suddenly realized I would be at the mall as a girl on Friday. "I mean…" Again, Jason gave me an angry look. "It's just going to be the girls there. You could still try to hook up with her though."

"No," Jason said. "Too much estrogen will be flying around. Need some other guy there to balance it out." He looked me over with a cruel smile. "You'll have to do."

"I don't think I can go," I said.

"You have to," Jason said. "Just do it!"

"I'll see what I can do," I said.

"See hard," Jason said with a stern look. "I gotta go catch the bus."

Jason fell back and blended into the stream of kids rushing out the front doors. I pushed away from the locker, glanced around, and then slipped into an opening to walk outside. The cool autumn air felt good. I'd grown tired of the summer heat, and winter always seemed too cold. Autumn happened to be my favorite time of the year, with the leaves changing, and the weather just right.

Outside, the busses began to start their engines down the line. I walked past my usual bus, number twenty, and found one-hundred-twelve. Tiffany had already found a seat, and was holding a spot for me. I fumbled around in my bag, and then presented a note to the bus driver, Rose. She took the note in her hand, and looked at me like I'd done something wrong.

"You ride my bus constantly Bailey," Rose said. "You don't need a note every time."

"My mother seems to think differently," I said.

Rose just smiled at me, and gestured for me to go on. I strolled down the aisle of the bus, and slid into the seat next to Tiffany. She had the note from art class in her hands. I didn't want to disturb her, so I sat there quietly. About the time the bus started moving, she looked up at me. She shook the letter with one hand.

"Who in the world put this in my art box?" Tiffany asked.

"So it's bugging you too?" I asked.

"Yes!" Her voice came out a bit loud, so she toned it down some. "I can't think of anyone it could possibly be. I'll have to talk to Tracy about it."

Tiffany dropped the hand holding the note to her lap. She turned to look out the window, obviously thinking about who gave her the letter. I glanced at the letter, and then turned to glance around the bus. Not a single face looked familiar. It couldn't have been anyone in Tiffany's neighborhood, unless they saw me leave her house. Maybe that was it?

"Maybe someone saw me leaving your house," I said, drawing Tiffany's attention away from the window.

"Or maybe coming back…" Tiffany said.

"Yeah," I said. "If they saw me arrive…"

"No," Tiffany said, shaking her head. "You came over…" She leaned over to whisper in my ear. "You were dressed in my clothes."

"Oh… right," I said. "I didn't the next day."

"True," Tiffany said.

We sat in silence for the next several blocks. While there were only two high schools, with a third being built, there were five junior high schools. Oddly enough, I lived closer to the newest junior high school, but because of zoning I ended up going to another. The kids who rode Tiffany's bus, actually lived about ten minutes away by car. I lived about twenty minutes away by car.

Rose began stopping the bus to let kids off. Several stops later, the bus was nearly half empty. I could see Tiffany's house, a split-level ranch style, rise over the hill. The light brown siding went well with the darker brown trim and roof. Her house was nearly like my own house, with the exception of color, and mine had a half basement, while her house only had a garage and a small storage area. The dark red front door of her house seemed to be the only splash of color to it.

I noticed Melanie's pristine white Dodge Neon in the driveway. It sat behind Kate's red Honda Accord. I'd ridden in both, and preferred Melanie's Neon. Kate's car had tan vinyl interior that stuck to everything, while Melanie's Neon had gray cloth seats. I really didn't have a clue about cars beyond comfort level. I continued to stare at Tiffany's house, until the bus pulled up next to it and we got out.

"Come on," Tiffany said, pulling me to the house with her hand around my wrist. "I gotta call Tracy."

Kate pulled the door open before we even got to the top step. Oddly enough, she hid herself behind the door, and only her head poked out from the side. Her long black hair had been done up in a pony tail, and she eyed me with her gorgeous green eyes. Tiffany pulled open the glass storm door. I went in first, focusing only on Kate's pretty face.

"Hey sis," Tiffany said. "What's Melanie doing here?"

"Hi Tiff," Kate said. "Hi Bailey." She almost cooed my name seductively.

"Hi…" I said, still wondering what she was up to.

"How's my little girly girl today?" Kate asked.

"Okay," I said.

"Just okay?" Kate asked.

Kate closed the door behind Tiffany, and I suddenly knew why she hid behind the door. For some odd reason, she had her green one-piece swimsuit on. It was the same one she had worn to the pool party. I couldn't help but take the whole sight in. The bathing suit pulled her body in at all the right places. Meanwhile, every inch of her bare flesh glistened from her summer tan, and I couldn't shake her perfect body from my mind.

"Tracy and Rebecca are coming over in a bit," Tiffany said.

"Okay," Kate said. "We're just hanging around here anyway."

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked, drawing Kate's attention.

"We've been working on my Halloween costume," Kate said. "Melanie's helping me with some adjustments."

"What are you going as? A lifeguard?" Tiffany asked.

"No," Kate said, looking at Tiffany. "Smartass. I just threw this on to wear underneath."

"Okay then," Tiffany said. "I'm going to go call Tracy before she leaves." She turned and walked off, leaving me alone with her sister.

"So did you come to hang out girly girl, or did you change your mind about the lessons?" Kate asked. A cute smile spread across her rosy lips.

"Just to hang out," I said, still a bit embarrassed at her nickname for me.

Instead of calling me sissy, Kate insisted on calling me girly girl. I honestly didn't find it as humiliating as being called a sissy. Kate had started saying it around the start of September, and since I didn't correct it then, it just stuck. She claimed she only used it because I was girly, but added the extra girl part to make it endearing, rather than insulting. Had she called me a girly boy, I probably would've been insulted.

"Too bad," Kate said. "I hope you'll come to us if you change your mind."

"You'll be the first one I call," I said, smiling.

"Why don't you come say hi to Melanie?" Kate said. "She hasn't seen you since summer." She stepped closer to me, causing me to become weak in her presence. "You can help with my costume."

"Actually," I said. "I would like to talk to you about something."

"I'm here for you," Kate said. "We can talk in my room."

"But I think…" I looked her over. "I don't know if I'd be comfortable…"

"Come on," Kate said, laughing a bit at my hesitation. "I could use your opinion. And you'll get plenty of time to ogle me. Melanie's waiting in my room."

I trudged down the hallway, and turned into Kate's room. Melanie sat on the foot of Kate's bed, and greeted me with a big smile. She had been busying herself by investigating a mess of purple material. I wanted to talk to Kate alone, but maybe both of their opinions could help. Perhaps I could even learn a technique from them that would keep me from being found out by Jason on Friday.

"Well you don't look so happy," Melanie said. "What's wrong?"

"Bad day at school," I said, now very unwilling to tell the whole truth.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?" Kate asked, coming up behind me. "If it's important we can talk first."

"Sort of," I said. "It's not major enough to where you have to stop what you're doing though."

"It's nice to see you again Bailey," Melanie said.

"It's really nice to see you too," I said.

Kate slipped my backpack off of my shoulders, and set it in the hallway. Then she nudged me into her room. She shut the door behind us, leaving it open just a crack. I felt trapped amidst the bubbling femininity in the room. While I tried to ease myself into some formidable comfort zone, Kate sashayed around her room appearing to check on things.

I felt a bit uncomfortable and unwilling to talk at first, but I knew it would be asked of me eventually. Kate and I had talked for hours before, like she was my big sister, yet Melanie had never known many intimate details about me. I watched Kate for a moment, until she walked over close to Melanie. They whispered to each other for a bit, and then they both turned to face me.

A lingering silence filled the room. Kate stood there patiently in her swimsuit. Melanie sat with one leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing up and down. To this day I had never seen Melanie in anything but heels. She claimed at the spa that she wore flats to school. Maybe she changed them when she got home, but I swear she always had at least three inch heels on.

With her smart, short dark brown hair, and classy apparel, it made her look several years older than seventeen. I oftentimes wondered if she dressed like this on purpose. It did seem like something she would do, as she often talked about appearances meaning something. Still, did she really go the extra mile to look older than her age, or did it come naturally with skill?

"You're okay with Bailey watching?" Melanie asked.

"It's not like I'm going to be nude," Kate said, with a smile. "Girly girl's used to being around girls anyway."

"Well then," Melanie said. "Put your stockings on."

Honestly, I had grown quite comfortable around girls in lingerie. Most of them had grown comfortable around me, once they saw me wearing lingerie. Normally I wouldn't be staring at the girls, but for some reason I couldn't keep my eyes off of Kate. Everything about her naturally drew my attention. Melanie stood gracefully, and walked over close to me. I guess she wanted to be part of the audience too.

"Obviously she's okay with being watched," Melanie said. "So I'll watch with you." She glanced at me. "If anything, you can learn how to put stockings on."

Now I knew why Kate had the swimsuit on. Parts of her costume involved undergarments, but she probably felt vulnerable wearing lingerie. The swimsuit provided a little more to her comfort level. I watched Kate slip a black lacy belt around her waist. Six ribbon-like straps cascaded down from it. Kate gave us both a nervous smile, as Melanie turned to face her.

"Incase you didn't know," Melanie said. "What Kate just put on is a garter belt. The little straps clip to the top of stockings to hold them up."

"I actually didn't know that," I said. "I've never seen one before."

"Women don't wear them much anymore," Kate said. "You want me to demonstrate?"

"Sure," Melanie said. "I think Bailey might like to know this."

Kate drew her right hand up, and casually let a black stocking cascade from it. I now noticed she had painted her fingernails the same green as her swimsuit. When I looked down, I saw her toenails were also the same forest green. Something told me these two actually planned this out to be special, and here I was oblivious to an obvious lesson.

"The first thing you do," Melanie said. Her melodic voice became increasingly distant in my mind. "Is scrunch the stocking up in both hands, like you would for each leg of your pantyhose."

I watched Kate start to draw up the nearly see-through material in her hands. It slowly rose up into a scrunched loop. Melanie continued to talk, but what she said barely sounded audible to me. I continued to stare at Kate's legs longingly, while she lifted her right foot up to meet the stocking. She pointed her toes, making her sexy calf muscle come to life, as she slipped them into the material.

"Then carefully roll the stocking a little at a time up your leg," Melanie said. "Be extremely careful with them so you don't cause any runs."

I watched Kate roll the stocking up past her calf. By that time I could have sworn I was drooling. Ever since I met Kate, I couldn't resist sneaking a peak at her legs. Her feet fascinated me too, but I seldom saw much of them. So today was like a double feature. Not only that, but I got to stare at them on purpose for the moment.

"You'll notice Kate's stockings have seams in the back," Melanie said. "I don't know if you'll ever wear seamed stockings, but I want to point out it is important to make sure the seam is straight. If you notice your seam getting a bit off, take the stocking back down your leg to that point, and then continue to roll it gently back up your leg. Do not pull or twist the stocking to line up a seam."

Seams? I didn't notice any seams. How could I? Faced with the vision of pure sexuality before me, I had very little time to notice anything. Kate had nearly finished with the first stocking, and I felt my heart racing. Her feet and legs were so amazing. I didn't know if I could contain myself.

"Once you get the stocking up to your thigh," Melanie said. "You'll want to attach the garter straps. You can have anywhere from four to twelve, though six is fine for what Kate is wearing them for." She looked to see if Kate was ready. "First, take the strap and slide the clip over the welt of stocking. That's the thicker material at the top."

Kate picked up the end of the ribbon-like strap between her green-tipped thumb and index fingers. Even her hands looked sexy doing this. I felt like I would pass out before she got the next stocking done. Melanie said something about a button and clip, but I just watched Kate. I had to say I was a visual learner. Kate looped some of the stocking over what I could only assume was the button, and slid it into the clip to lock the stocking in place.

"Do this for all straps," Melanie said, as Kate followed along. "Be sure to line up the front strap so it will appear straight when you stand up. The back strap should be lined up too, but it's a bit hard to get right." Melanie waited for Kate to finish the other strap before speaking. "I'll let Kate demonstrate with the other stocking, while I prepare her next item of clothing."

Demonstrate she did. As I watched Kate scrunch up the other stocking, Melanie became a blur in the background. Kate lifted her foot, again pointing her toes, to slip the stocking over it. Then she drew it up her leg, almost seductively, making sure to keep the seam straight. Finally, when it felt like I was about to burst from sexual tension, Kate clipped the garter straps in place, and stood up from the bed.

"Think you could do that?" Kate asked.

I nodded. "I think so, but not as sexy as you."

"You thought that was sexy?" Kate asked.

"Seriously Kate," Melanie said. "You even turned me on." She glanced back at Kate's legs. "I would so jump you right now, if we were alone."

"You could pretend I'm not here," I said, with a half smile on my face.

Both of the girls giggled. Melanie refocused her attention, and continued to fuss over something on the bed. Meanwhile, Kate walked over to me in the sexiest strut she could muster. She stood in front of me, thrusting her hips out to the right. Then she slapped her hands down on her hips, under the garter belt, and gave me a sensuous look.

"I have a job for you girly girl," Kate said. "Pretty sure you'll enjoy it too."

"What's that?" I asked, swallowing hard.

Kate lifted her hand and used her index finger to coax me to follow her over to a chair. She stopped me about a foot away from the chair, and pointed to the floor. Without even thinking about it, or questioning Kate, I lowered myself into a full kneel facing the chair. She walked away, over to Melanie, and the two whispered about something. I watched Melanie hand something to Kate, and they whispered some more.

Kate sashayed back over to me. Her hips nearly snapped from side to side. I could tell she seemed to be enjoying flaunting her sexuality in front of me. She obviously knew I wasn't a threat, as she eased down onto the edge of the chair, mere inches away from me. I stared at Kate's legs for a moment. They seemed to shine beneath the silky layer of her stockings.

"You're going to love this," Kate said.

She revealed two ultra feminine loops, and held them out to me. I took them in my hands, and observed them. Delicate black lace exploded from the tops and bottoms in gathered frilly abundance. Each one had a fancy black ribbon in the middle of one side, and they both stretched on a band of elastic wrapped in crumpled purple satin. Kate smiled at me for a moment, as I moved them around my fingers. Then she got my attention.

"Those are actual garters," Kate said. "What women used to wear to keep their stockings up." She scooted toward me, to where her right knee came into contact with the back of my hands. "I'm just going to wear them to complete the costume, but I don't really need them."

"They're really pretty," I said.

"Could you help me put them on?" Kate asked, her voice sounding like the operation somehow eluded her.

"I'd be happy to," I said.

Kate lifted her right leg. Her shin, wrapped in silky ecstasy, slid against my hands as it rose. She moved her foot toward me, inches away from touching my leg. I took one garter, and slipped it over her foot. It slid with ease over the stockings. When I passed over her heel with the garter, she rested her stocking-clad foot down onto my thigh. I glanced up to see her looking down at me with a patient, understanding gaze.

As I continued to slide the garter up Kate's leg, I tried to make as little contact as possible. It wasn't easy, as Kate kept bumping her leg from side to side. This was mainly due to the fact that her balance was very unstable on my leg. Her toes kept wiggling against my thigh as she attempted to make her foot sit flat. I finally got the garter stretched around her thigh, to where it rested over the welt of her stocking.

Instead of removing her right foot from my thigh, Kate left it there. She lifted her left foot toward me, and held the chair for support. Once again, after I slipped the other garter over her left foot, she casually let her foot down on my other thigh. I glanced back and forth between what I was doing, and her pretty eyes. Her gaze appeared to be reassuring, as I slipped the other garter into place around her thigh.

"Aw," Melanie said. "He's like your little footstool."

"Too cute for that," Kate said, smiling down at me.

I blushed, lowering my face to hide it. Looking down, I could only see Kate's lower legs and feet. The forest green nail polish on her toenails could be seen ever so slightly through the sheer material of her stockings. Her feet felt cold at first, but they were starting to warm up against my thighs. For some reason I placed my hands over them.

Kate didn't retract her feet. I honestly thought she would yank them away. She didn't seem to mind that I set my hands upon them. Although, after awhile, she flexed her toes up into the palms of my hands. This subconsciously got me to move my hands, and I started rubbing the tops of her feet. The silky feeling of the stockings felt wonderful as my hands glided over them. After a minute, Kate shifted in her chair, and I stopped to look up.

"What are you doing?" Kate asked, looking down into my eyes.

"I…" She waited patiently for my answer. "They felt cold…"

"No," Kate said. "I mean why did you stop?"

"Oh," I said. "I thought you were uncomfortable with me doing it."

"Of course not girly girl," Kate said. "I don't care if you rub my feet."

"You can rub mine when you're done," Melanie said. "If you want." She sighed. "I've been in these heels all day."

"I swear you wear those things just to complain," Kate said, looking at Melanie.

"I wear them because Steve likes it," Melanie said. "Besides, I've gotten used to them."

"Why don't you have Steve take care of your feet then?" Kate asked.

"Ha!" Melanie said. "Like that would ever happen." She looked down at me. "It takes a real man to be willing to rub a lady's feet."

I looked down at Kate's feet. "I'm not much of a man," I said.

"Hey!" Kate said, leaning toward me. "You're more guy than most of the ones I've dated." She waited until I looked up at her. "I might call you girly girl," she said, with a smile. "But most girls would kill to have a boyfriend like you."

"Jealous?" Tiffany asked, walking into the room.

"Maybe a little," Kate said, winking at me.

I had the sudden urge to get up, and move away from Kate. This was especially true in my current situation, with Tiffany in the room. However, Kate continued to lean forward. Her weight had been shifted to her feet, and they held me firmly in my kneeling position. The longer I knelt there, though, the more I realized Tiffany didn't mind. What seemed like a naughty thing to me, seemed like two girls bonding to her.

"It's kind of hard avoiding it," I said. "When I'm constantly surrounded by beautiful feet."

"Tell me about it," Melanie said. "Try being a pedicurist's assistant and having a fetish for pretty female feet."

"What is it with us?" Kate asked. "Do we all have a foot fetish, or something?"

"You like feet too?" I asked, looking up at Kate.

"I like having mine touched," Kate said. "So I guess that counts."

"I just like pretty female ones," Tiffany said. She looked down at me. "And yours, of course."

"What are you talking about?" Kate asked. "Girly girl Bailey's feet are pretty female ones."

"Wait… We all like feet?" Melanie asked.

"Just you three," Kate said. "I don't know anyone else that does."

"I do," I said.

"You do?" Melanie asked, sitting down next to Tiffany. "Who?"

"One of my brother's friends," I said. "He comments on my feet all the time."

"He?" Tiffany asked. "You never told me about this."

"It wasn't worth mentioning," I said.

"Wait… Hold on," Kate said. "You know a guy. Who's seen your feet, toenails painted and all. Plus you have him drooling all over you, giving you compliments on them." She paused to look at me. "And you say it's not worth mentioning?"

"Well no," I said. "Nothing's really come out of it."

"Who is this guy?" Melanie asked.

Tiffany flew from the bed and knelt next to me. "I'm dying to know," she said, putting her hands in her lap.

"It's not that big a deal," I said.

"Then tell us," Tiffany said.

"Yeah," Melanie said. "Tell us."

Kate wiggled her toes against my legs. "Who is it girly girl?"

"It's…" I looked down away from them all. "Nathan Riley," I said.

"Nathan Riley!?" Kate asked. "He's in my speech class!"

"Isn't he a freshman?" Melanie asked.

"Ooh," Tiffany said. "An older boy."

"Is that why you tell us you don't like boys?" Kate asked. "Because you have one on the side already?" She reached out and ran her fingers through my hair.

"No," I said. "I tell you that, because I don't like boys."

"I think I'd be a little jealous if I lost my boyfriend to a boy," Tiffany said.

"A little jealous?" Kate asked. "I'd be in a jealous rage."

"Well…" Tiffany looked at me. "I figure if he's cute enough to attract a boy, he deserves to at least go out with one."

"True," Melanie said. "But I'd be keeping a close eye on this Nathan Riley."

"Are you saying you'd let him date a boy?" Kate asked.

"I'm not going to date a boy!" I said.

"Just hypothetically," Kate said. "Would you Tiff?"

Tiffany glanced at her sister, and then looked at me. "If he wanted to," she said. "I wouldn't stop him."

The doorbell ringing brought the awkwardness of the situation to a crashing halt. We all perked up, at least physically, like we were wondering who it could be. Granted, we all knew who the visitors were, but somehow everyone acted like we'd forgotten along the way. Tiffany wrapped her arms around my neck, and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.

"That's Tracy and Rebecca," Tiffany said, standing to her feet.

"Crap," Kate said. "I'm still not dressed."

"Well have Bailey help you," Tiffany said. "She's a pretty good lady's maid." She gave me a knowing look.

"We'll go keep them busy," Melanie said, walking toward the door.

"Hey Tiff?" Kate asked.

"Yeah?" Tiffany asked, stopping at the door.

"Could you keep everyone busy for half an hour or so?" Kate asked. "Bailey said he wanted to talk about something."

"Sure," Tiffany said. "Want your door shut?"

"Please," Kate said. "And lock it too."

Tiffany clicked the lock on the door and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Kate sat and watched me for a moment. I hadn't stopped rubbing her feet, except for the few seconds after the doorbell rang. However, I had started in again soon after. She slid back in the chair, taking care not to catch her garters or stockings on the front.

With her weight off of her feet, she slid her left one off of my leg. I thought I was done rubbing them, until she tilted her right one up. It only took me a moment to realize she wanted me to continue with a more thorough massage. I started kneading her sole with my thumbs, as she reached over to turn on some music on her computer. Then she relaxed back in her chair and looked at me sincerely.

"What did you want to talk about girly girl?" Kate asked.

"I have a huge problem," I said. "With a boy at school."

"Is he bullying you?" Kate asked.

"Not exactly," I said. "It's a bit complicated."

"Well take your time," Kate said. "And please…" She nodded at her foot. "Take your time."

"It's this boy… Jason," I said. "He kind of bullies me, but doesn't hurt me. He sort of annoys me, I guess."

"Do you think he actually likes you?" Kate asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Well… maybe. I don't know." I looked at her knees to regain my thoughts.

"You know," Kate said. "Boys sometimes pick on girls they like."

"He's never seen me as a girl," I said.

"Maybe he sees you as a girl without you being one," Kate said. "You have quite a few feminine qualities."

"It's not like that," I said, still staring at her knees. "He likes Tracy."

"Oh," Kate said. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood." She paused for a moment. "You know… you can massage higher if you want."

"What?" I asked, looking up at her.

"I know you want to touch my legs," Kate said. "It's okay." She apparently thought I was staring at her legs for another reason. "They get sore from all the running I do."

"Oh," I said.

I let my hands roam slowly up her leg. My fingers slithered over the seam of her silky stocking. Eventually I reached her calf and started to massage it. Kate actually let a suppressed moan escape her rosy lips. Her entire leg relaxed in my hand. She squirmed a bit as I continued to knead her calf muscles. I didn't know if her unusual behavior was brought about by relief of tired muscles being worked, or if this had somehow become sexual for her.

"Oh… that feels so good," Kate said. "You are such a good girly girl." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So you like Jason, but he likes Tracy?"

"Huh?" I asked, dumbfounded by her question.

"Are you saying you're interested in him, but he's not interested in you?" Kate asked.

"No!" I said.

"It's okay if you like boys," Kate said. "You can tell me." When I didn't respond, she opened her eyes and looked at me. "Do you like him?"

"No," I said. "Not at all!" I shook my head, trying to bring some sanity back to the conversation. Between her questions, and feeling her legs, I had somehow lost reasoning. "He wants me to hook him up with Tracy."

"Oh!" Kate said. Her face turned red with a blush. "I completely misunderstood the entire situation." She let loose in a fit of nervous laughter. "It's just your hands feel so amazing." She tried to contain herself. "I'm sorry. I'll try to concentrate better."

"He's going to meet us at the mall Friday," I said.

"So what's problem?" Kate asked. "Just drag Tracy to the mall. She practically lives there."

"The problem," I said. "Is that Tiffany got a letter today, with the person stating they know about me."

"What do they know?" Kate asked. She took a moment to realize what I was talking about. "Oh! You mean they know about your girly girl side…"

"Yes," I said. "And they said in the letter to meet them at the mall, also on Friday."

"Dressed?" Kate asked.

I nodded.

"Okay," Kate said. "Now I see the problem." She pursed her lips and sat in silence for a moment. "I don't have a clue how to fix it though."

"Great…" I said. "I thought maybe you'd have an idea."

"Well…" Kate said. "Jason asking you to hook him up with Tracy is a simple abuse of your relationship with her, but nothing to call the cops on." She tapped her fingers on her desk. "But the letter… that's actually blackmail."

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Unless you want a quick coming out party," Kate said. "I would suggest not letting Jason see you as your girly girl self." She looked down at me with a half frown. "However, who knows what this other creep might do if you don't show up."

We both fell silent. The only sound in the room came from the soft music on her computer. When the song ended, Kate switched legs, and I started from her foot up, again, massaging her through the silky stocking. She sat back and enjoyed the moment, closing her soft eyelids over her bliss-filled eyes. I continued to knead her stiff muscles as a somewhat long song played from the CD in her computer.

"Tiffany is so lucky," Kate said. "You're like a natural at this." She let out a long sigh. "I should have you do this once a week."

"I wouldn't mind," I said.

Kate opened her eyes and looked down at me. "I'm sure you wouldn't," she said. "I think I know how to solve your problem though."

"How?"

"It'll be tricky," Kate said, "but you'll just have to split the two events up."

"Like have Tracy run into Jason on her own?"

"Yes," Kate said. "Then you and Tiff meet this mystery person who sent the letter." She leaned forward, her foot pressing against my thigh. "I can go with you if you want?"

"I don't want to burden you," I said.

"It's no problem," Kate said. "Besides… it's a lot better than having your mom drag you there."

"I guess that's true," I said. "But Jason actually wants me around, to balance out all the girls going to be there."

"If it's just him and Tracy, that's perfectly balanced," Kate said. "I would be more concerned with this other person anyway."

"I am more concerned with them…" I said. "Vanessa thinks it's another boy."

"Would you help me with my boots?" Kate asked. "They're right behind you."

I reached back and pulled her boots to me. After fidgeting with the laces on the left boot, I helped her slip her foot into it. The boot slid up her leg for a brief moment, before the top came to rest directly beneath her calf. They looked really nice on her; the black kid leather contrasting with the barely there black of her stocking. The four or more inch heel forced her foot down into a rounded point at the toe.

The music stopped. I started to tighten the laces, and had the first boot tied before the next song came on. As I worked on the right boot, I stole glances of Kate. She busied herself checking things on her computer. Before long I had her other boot on. I tightened the laces and tied them. Only then did Kate look down at my completed task.

Kate slipped her now booted foot from my hand, and placed both of her feet firmly on the floor. Then she stood gracefully, and towered over my still kneeling little body. I remember having to tilt my neck back to view her face. Kate reached out with both hands, and I slipped mine into them. She pulled me to my feet, and we stood awkwardly close together. It felt like one of those moments in a movie, where the two people end up realizing they're made for each other and kiss. Only we didn't kiss, and I soon felt her dropping my hands from her own.

"Why don't you sit and talk to me while I finish?" Kate asked.

"Sure…" I said, hoping she didn't catch on to what I had been thinking.

I eased myself onto the chair, sitting off of the side of it to face the bed where Kate had gone. She didn't seem to mind me sitting there, staring at her legs like a pervert. In fact, I think she purposefully tried to drag things out. Several times she sashayed over to her dresser, acting as if she'd forgotten something important. Then she would sashay back to the bed with whatever it was, and mess with her costume.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked.

"I don't know," Kate said. "Anything."

I thought about it for a moment, before giving up in a huff. "I don't know what to talk about," I said.

"How's school?" Kate asked. "Aside from Jason."

"It's kind of hard," I said. "Not like elementary at all."

"Just wait until high school," Kate said.

"I actually wish I was already there," I said. "I think the next two years are going to be hell."

I watched Kate wrap a short flared skirt around her waist. Once she had buttoned it closed, I noticed the dark purple garment covered very little. The black lace at the hem of the skirt failed to stretch to the tops of her stockings. I could plainly see her garter straps as she stood straight. She picked up a purple bodice, trimmed in black lace, and adjusted the black laces which held it closed in the front.

"I'm not even sure this treatment is working," I said. "I haven't even noticed any side effects he mentioned."

"Well I'm sure it will take some time," Kate said, as she slipped her arms through the straps of the bodice.

"That's what the doctor keeps saying," I said. "I just want to feel normal."

"Normal is a matter of perception," Kate said. She started to lace up the bodice.

"I want to fit in," I said.

Kate stopped lacing the bodice for a moment to look at me. "I know this probably won't mean anything to you right now," she said. "But you're a very special person Bailey. You have a lot to offer." She went back to lacing her bodice. "You have a lot of people close to you, who love you for all that you are." She looked up once more. "If others can't realize that, then they're not worth your time."

I couldn't take my eyes off of Kate, as she finished lacing the bodice. She pulled at the laces and pushed her breasts up and together. Then she pulled a little more, pushing her perfect softball sized mounds together, before tying the bodice shut. She looked up to notice me staring at her breasts.

"So you like those too huh?"

"What?" I asked, coming out of my daze. "Yeah… I mean no."

"No?" Kate asked, feigning a pout.

"I mean… I do like them," I said. "I'm just sorry for staring."

Kate snickered. "It's okay," she said, stepping over to the bed again. "I ordered a blouse to go under this, but it hasn't gotten here yet." She picked up something lacy and black from the bed. "Hopefully it'll get here in time for me to alter it. Could you help me for a minute?"

"Sure," I said.

I uncrossed my legs, noticing I had subconsciously crossed them like a lady. Things like this worried me, causing me to be afraid I'd make some kind of slip around people who didn't know my other side. Kate happened to be one of many who would never point these sorts of things out, usually encouraging me to do the opposite of boyish things. She handed me the lacy article of clothing, and I noticed it was a glove. Once I had it in my hands, she held her arm out.

"I might have you dress me if you're over here on Halloween," Kate said. "You're a good lady's maid." She winked at me, and then grinned. "Hey! Maybe you could be a maid for Halloween?"

I shook my head laughing. "Don't give Tiffany any ideas," I said. "She's already planning my costume."

"You know she's going to pick something to doll you up in," Kate said.

"I figured as much," I said, holding the glove open for her. "I don't mind, as long as she doesn't go crazy with it."

"Well…" Kate said, as she slid her hand into the glove. "You want it to kind of be over the top."

"I do?"

"Yeah," Kate said. "If it's too plain, like a normal outfit, people will think you just like dressing as a girl."

"Well I do like it from time to time," I said.

"I know," Kate said, "but you don't want others to know that."

Kate's hand came through the end of the glove, like a hand reaching out slowly from the shadows. She showed me a loop that slipped over the middle finger, and I helped her adjust it properly. Then I pulled it on the rest of the way. It slipped past her elbow to the middle of her upper arm, and ended in a lacy frill, which folded down over the elastic holding it up. When she turned her hand over, palm down, only her green-tipped fingers stuck through the end.

"What are you going to do if you find out you miss dressing?" Kate asked, as she handed me the other glove.

"Miss it?" I asked.

"Well you're taking hormones now to become a guy," Kate said. "What if you find out it's not what you want?"

"I've actually thought about it a lot," I said, slipping the glove over her hand. "I figure my mind will change along with my body."

"That could happen," Kate said. "Especially if your mind sees your body changing and accepts it." She wiggled her fingers through the end of the glove. "Or it could be the exact opposite."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, fixing the lace at the top of the glove.

"I'm not trying to scare you," Kate said. "It's just…" She looked in my eyes. "Sometimes you have to ignore your body and your mind, and listen to your heart."

"Well my heart," I said, "is telling me to be a boy again."

"Okay," Kate said, moving back to the bed. "As long as nobody else is telling you what to do." She held up a long purple cloth, decorated with excessive black lace. "As long as you aren't neglecting your own happiness for someone else to be happy."

I stared at Kate, as she affixed the cloth to her costume. It happened to be a trail, designed to cover her backside. She could bring it up in the front and clip it, giving her front the appearance of a curtain being pulled away from her legs. Once she finished with the trail, she picked up another item from the bed. She walked to the mirror, and kept an eye on me as she affixed a lacy black and purple choker. It matched her garters.

"I'm going to have Pam do my hair," Kate said. "Probably in a bunch of curls."

If anyone could do hair, it was Pam, Melanie's mother. She had done mine over the summer at the spa. When I went back to see her before school, she actually fixed my hair back to something a bit more masculine for free. Though her idea of masculine actually fell along the edge of androgyny. If I fluffed it out a bit, I'd look totally feminine, but if I combed it down, I looked like a boy into the punk or skater look.

Thinking back, on what Kate had said, made me consider the feelings in my own heart. The truth was, I hadn't been doing what I did for myself. I mean, I did want to fit in as a boy, but that paled in comparison to the expectancies my parents had for me. I began to realize I was trying to repair my male side for them. Everyone else, including myself, seemed to be okay with me being a girl, and I actually enjoyed it.

"Do you like it?" Kate asked. She had turned around, and was posing with her hip thrust out to the right, with her fist resting upon it.

I nodded. "I do," I said. "I'm just not sure what you're supposed to be."

"A saloon girl, silly," Kate said. "Don't you ever watch westerns?"

"I will now," I said. "If all the women dress like that."

Kate laughed. "Unfortunately, most of the girls in old westerns are ugly."

"Well you look beautiful," I said.

"Thanks," Kate said. "Should we show the others, or did you want to talk some more?"

"They're probably wondering about us," I said.

"Probably right," Kate said.

She sashayed over to the door and unlocked it. It took a lot out of me to not stare at her, as we left the room and walked down the hallway. Melanie saw us first, and started clapping when Kate walked in. Rebecca turned to see, and actually whistled. Tracy showed her approval by running over and gushing over the ensemble. I noticed Tiffany, however, showed only a vague bit of interest in the situation, but still gave her approval of the costume with a half smile.

I walked around Kate as Melanie and Rebecca rushed over to mess with her costume. Tiffany sat on one side of their couch, slumped against the pillowed arm. She appeared to be either mad at something, or deeply thinking about other things than her sister's costume. I flopped down next to her, and pulled her feet up into my lap. This didn't even break her concentration.

Tiffany had cute light pink and lavender striped socks covering her feet, and they ran way up under her boot cut jeans. I only knew this, because I had seen her socks before, and they went up to her knees. She didn't like me to take them off, as they were a pain to get back on, but she didn't mind it when I started to rub her feet. I thought it would only be fair, since I spent so much time taking care of her sister.

Still, Tiffany wasn't distracted. She seemed to be in deep contemplation, probably about who put the letter in her art box at school. Meanwhile, the other four girls in the room were alive and kicking. They continued to hem and haw over Kate's costume. Kate saw her sister's slump, and tried to get her involved in the action.

"You were right Tiff," Kate said. "Girly girl Bailey here did a wonderful job as a lady's maid."

"Bailey's here?!"

The voice I heard sounded nearly like a squeal from the kitchen. Before I knew it, I heard the excited footsteps of someone running across the kitchen floor. Every single one of the girls had a look of terror on their face. Kate's looked like she had just revealed top-secret information to the enemy. Soon enough, Kale, Rebecca and Tracy's little brother, flew into the living room from the kitchen. He froze when he saw me, a juice box nearly slipping from his hand.

Kale had the most confused look I'd ever seen strewn across his face. "Why are you dressed like a boy?" he asked. His intense hazel eyes nearly fell out of his skull.

Nobody in the room knew what to do. Normally I was never recognized. However, this observant little sixth grader, who had seen me only once before, somehow recognized me. Maybe he had been so infatuated with me at Tracy's birthday party, that he memorized my face. Of course, he had never seen me with my old look. So maybe he didn't see anything else when he looked at me.

"What are you talking about?" Rebecca asked, trying an obvious attempt to cover for me.

"Bailey's dressed like a boy," Kale said. "She had a dress on at the party."

"How do you know it's the same Bailey?" Tracy asked, trying to get a wrangle hold on her brother as he walked closer to me.

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "You might be confused."

"No," Kale said, shaking his head defiantly. "I recognize her eyes. They're the same color blue as my bike!"

By now, my jaw had dropped. My pretty little mouth, framed by my pouty lips, gaped open in shock. Before anyone could muster up any sort of cover for me, I saw Kale's face fill with even more questions. He managed to get away from his sister, and walk over closer to me. Everyone looked on in a weird frozen state, as Kale observed my features. His head tilted to the side when he looked at my head.

"Your hair is shorter," Kale said. "But still pretty."

"Think you can keep a big secret Kale?" Tiffany asked.

Kale looked at her and nodded. Tiffany slid her legs off of my lap, and sat Indian style with her back against the arm of the couch. She patted the couch cushion in front of her, the area between her and I, offering Kale a place to sit. It didn't take long at all for Kale to accept, and I soon felt his little hand on my thigh as he shifted to a comfortable spot. He looked back and forth between us with a strained sense of wonderment.

"Bailey is actually a boy," Tiffany said.

Kale immediately looked at me. "But she… he wore a dress," he said.

"Yes, we know," Tiffany said, looking over his head into my eyes. "Bailey's a special boy who likes to dress as a girl."

"Why?" Kale asked, looking back at Tiffany.

"Because," I said, drawing his attention. "I like the different clothes girls wear."

"Oh," Kale said, looking a bit more confused. "What do they feel like?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," I said, looking into his eyes. "They just feel different."

"Could I try it?" Kale asked.

"Are you serious?" Rebecca asked, stepping over in front of us.

Kale looked up at his sister and nodded. Everyone in the room had their eyes glued to Kale now, like he had lost his mind. I looked past Kale to Tiffany, and could tell her mind had been kicked into overdrive. She obviously was seeing what I saw when I looked at Kale. We both saw an adventurous new body to play dress up with.

I looked at Kale more closely. He had a few feminine features, but not nearly as many as I did. His lips weren't as pouty, and his jaw line seemed a bit more square. These two features didn't overly compensate for what he did have. Kale was short, shorter than me a year ago. From his brow to his nose he appeared extremely feminine, with a small button nose, thin eyebrows and eyes that seemed larger than what most boys had.

"He's actually about our size," Tiffany said.

"You think so?" I asked.

"Maybe a bit smaller," Tiffany said, "but I could find some old stuff that would fit him."

"You sure you want to do this?" Rebecca asked, stooping down in front of Kale.

"Yes!" Kale said, nearly screaming from excitement.

Rebecca glanced at me, and then looked at Tiffany. "He's all yours then," she said.

"I'm so in this time," Tracy said. "I missed Bailey's first time dressing."

"Speaking of which," Tiffany said, looking at me. "Tracy brought over something I need you to try on."

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's part of your Halloween costume," Tiffany said. "It's on my bed. Go slip it on, please."

"Okay," I said, removing myself from the couch.

I looked back to see Tracy taking my place. Her and Tiffany started fawning over Kale, discussing what they wanted to try with him. Either Kale really wanted to try this, or he knew it would warrant him some much wanted attention from the girls. At any rate, I now had a task to complete. Kate, Melanie and Rebecca followed me down the hallway. Before I could turn into Tiffany's room, Kate grabbed my arm.

"Why don't you come to my room after you change?" Kate asked, only it seemed hardly a question.

I nodded, and Kate smiled as she released my arm. She continued down the hall, and I slipped into Tiffany's room. Tiffany had really changed the look of her room over the past month. She had always been a bit on the tomboy side, with her room decorated to match this aspect of her personality. Recently, however, I had watched her video games and small collection of sports gear diminish.

Tiffany used to love playing soccer at one point. She quit her local team before the summer, and slowly her shin guards and cleats disappeared. The only thing that remained was a small trophy given to her team from winning third in some tournament. Video games, especially sport titles, soon vanished from the house as well. They were replaced with board games like Clue and Twister, along with trivia cards.

Tiffany's room had also lost its once neutral colors. She replaced her white curtains with lavender. Her bedding became riddled with pinks and purples, while her bedspread had large pink and lavender tulips spread across it. The wall opposite of her closet had been painted light pink and deemed as her art wall. She literally had dozens of drawings and paintings littered about it, and randomly strewn across her room in general. The cart, where her Nintendo had been, had been replaced with a new art desk.

I closed the door to Tiffany's room. On her bed laid a navy blue dress. As I walked over to the bed, I kicked my sneakers off and over to the side. I honestly didn't feel like dressing as a girl that day, in fact I hadn't felt like it a lot recently, but I figured it would be okay to check it for size. The dress seemed more inviting as I drew closer to it.

I picked up the skirt of the dress in my hand, and instantly fell in love with the velvet material. A gold line of trim, half an inch wide, ran completely around the bottom just above the hemline. Altogether, the dress seemed pretty plain, but because of the material, I had to put it on. I found myself dropping my jeans to the floor, and yanking my shirt off at the same time.

It only took me a minute to find one of Tiffany's white padded bras, and have it hooked closed around me. Tiffany and I actually shared clothes all of the time, being close to the same size. Our undergarments fit each other perfectly, and though I never had any of my lingerie at her place, I was welcome to use hers. She even set aside favorites that she liked seeing me in.

Eventually Tiffany's mother found out about me, through random discovery. She had come home early from work and found me dressed in Tiffany's things. This brought up the fact I had spent the night in Tiffany's bed supposedly as a girl. After some carefully worded lies, we avoided some tough questions, and Kate vouched for us that nothing had happened. Kate knew very well something had happened, and promised us both we would make up for it.

I don't think Tiffany's mother really thought much of me after that, and she perhaps was the driving force behind Tiffany's drastic change toward more feminine things. She probably assumed Tiffany had started to show lesbian tendencies, and wanted to steer her away from tomboyish things. Truth be told, Tiffany did have lesbian tendencies, and steering her toward more femininity helped build those tendencies.

In essence, my relationship with Tiffany could be construed, by some, like that of a couple of lipstick lesbians. My androgynous appearance (as Rajan described it) left me far out of the ranks of a butch. Tiffany could've fallen into the femme side, but she desired more feminine looks in others. This fact, coupled with the fact she wore skirts more than jeans, gave the lipstick lesbian classification more credence.

Tiffany's affinity for feminine looks reflected strongly on me. While I dressed from time to time in whatever I wanted to at home, Tiffany liked me to be in the most feminine attire around her. This usually meant skirts and dresses for me. Weather permitting, she pleaded for me to wear shoes that revealed my toenails; usually decorated in a feminine color. She also got me used to wearing lipstick, which she claimed she loved the taste of when we kissed.

For many reasons I didn't mind doing these things for Tiffany. Dressing as feminine as possible kept my chances of being found out as a boy super low. Doing the little extra things got me plenty of attention from her. We probably had the most intimate relationship of anyone we knew. Though we never had sex, our make out sessions were sultry and charged with passion.

I started to wonder how it would feel being rubbed up against with this velvet dress on. It only took that thought to have me slipping the dress on over my head. Before I could even get the dress down all of the way, the door opened. I quickly poked my head through the plunging V neckline, to see Tiffany coming into the room. She shut the door behind her, and walked right to me.

"It might be a tight fit in some places," Tiffany said. "She wore it for a dance recital over a year ago."

"Actually it's a little…"

Tiffany put her finger over my lips. I didn't know why she stopped me from talking, until I saw a little rebellious glint in her eye. Before I could respond, she replaced her finger with her own lips. They were soft and sticky, and as her tongue passed over them, parting mine, I detected the faint taste of bubble gum. The intrusion of her tongue awakened mine, and soon they were twirling, pushing against each other.

Down my abdomen I could feel Tiffany's nails scrape gently against my skin. They reached the waistband of my panties, and played there for awhile. I could feel her fingers probing, slipping in behind the waistband and then quickly slipping back out. A few times she pulled the waistband out, letting it snap gently back into place. Tiffany broke the kiss to let her left cheek slide back against mine.

"You probably shouldn't wear these to school," she said in a whisper.

Before I could say anything, she moved her lips back over mine. We kissed for a moment more, until she slid her right cheek against mine in the same fashion as before. I felt her breath flow past my ear, and it sent a chill down my spine. Soon her hands slid into my panties in the back. The warmth of her hands on my bare bottom stopped the chill in its tracks.

"But I think it's so sexy that you do," she said, again in a whisper.

Tiffany moved her lips back to mine. She started giving me short little kisses. Her sticky lip gloss tugged ever so slightly at my lips as she pulled away. With each kiss she pulled back a little further, causing me to eventually go after them. Eventually she had me go so far for one of her kisses, that I started to lose my balance. I put my arms over her shoulders to compensate.

Our lips locked together, our tongues darting across them and plunging in and out of each other's mouths. I felt my bottom spread apart as Tiffany pulled at each cheek. After a lingering moment she broke our kiss, and pulled her head back. She had a satisfied smile on her face. I figured her satisfaction came from reaching the height of our sexual escapades at our age. We both wanted more, yet we couldn't bring ourselves to repeating our act the morning after the pool party.

"You are such a girl," Tiffany said.

"What?"

"Look at the way you're standing."

I looked down to evaluate myself. Tiffany and I were the same height, but because I was in my socks, and stood toe-to-toe with her wedge shoes, I found myself standing on my tiptoes to reach her. Not only that, but the way my arms were on her shoulder, they reminded me of one of those old black and white movies where the girl falls helplessly into the man's arms. Her elbows are usually on the man's shoulders, and crossed daintily at the wrists behind him.

"You even kicked your foot up at one point," Tiffany said.

"Well that wouldn't have happened if you didn't make me lose my balance," I said, trying my best to fake being offended.

"Let's face it," Tiffany said. "You love being a girl around me."

"Can you blame me?"

Tiffany smiled as she shook her head. We shared another long kiss. Her hands moved beneath my panties, sliding across my hips and ending right next to my penis. She had only touched it once before, but several times since then she had come teasingly close to it. Tiffany passed it over this time as well, pulling her hands from my panties as we ended our kiss.

After a moment, I felt her tugging down at the hem of Tracy's dress. It slid with ease down my torso, and over my hips. Tiffany tugged at the hem, getting it to go down as much as possible. The bell skirt of the dress finally ended up at about mid-thigh, and the dress itself seemed to be loose in the midsection. Tiffany took my arms from her shoulders, and stepped back to look at me.

"Maybe Kate can bring it in a bit," Tiffany said. "I love the way it looks though."

I'd grown quite accustomed to short sleeves that barely covered the shoulder. In all honesty, they were a lot more comfortable to me. With my small frame, most of my brother's hand-me-down t-shirts had sleeves that fell past my elbow. They were aggravating and I constantly had to keep rolling them up. Therefore, I found sleeveless, cap-sleeved and even short short-sleeved, like on this dress, to be less of a hindrance.

"Do you have white tights to go with it?" Tiffany asked. "If not you can wear some of mine."

"No," I said. "I mean… I do."

"Great!" Tiffany said, before walking over to open her door. "You can come in now," she yelled down the hallway.

Moments later, Kale came through Tiffany's door. Tracy patiently nudged him along from behind. Kale's eyes fell on me, and took in every detail. I don't know whether he found me fascinating, because I walked the edge of the gender line, or if he had some sort of crush on me. His eyes lit up when they looked into mine, and a smile spread across his face.

"You don't mind if we alter this?" Tiffany asked.

"No," Tracy said. "It's all yours. I don't need it anymore."

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Well… you get Kale started, and I'll be back to help."

I felt Tiffany's hand in mine as she dragged me out of her room. We crossed the hallway and she knocked a few times before opening Kate's door. Once Tiffany had pulled me into the middle of the room, the girls all exploded into unintelligible conversation. I felt at least six hands on me, as they looked over the dress and explained what they could do with it. They agreed and disagreed, but ultimately came to one final conclusion, which Melanie voiced quite readily.

"It'll work."

"How are you Bailey?" Rebecca asked. "Haven't seen you since we went roller skating."

"I've been okay," I said. "We should all do that again some time."

"I'd like to," Rebecca said, "but it's just so hard to plan. Getting everyone together is a pain."

"Yeah," Melanie said. "Maybe over the summer we can do more?"

"I hope so," Kate said. "It might be the last summer we have together."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Silly…" Melanie said. "We all graduate in spring!"

"Oh…" I said.

My gaze fell to the floor. I hadn't really thought about people leaving after graduation. Even Justin would be off to college in two years. I was pretty sure he would get a full ride with a football scholarship. The pressure of time now weighed heavily on my mind. There were so precious few moments we could share now. Kate lifted my chin with her hand.

"Why the sad face?" Kate asked.

"I was just thinking about you all going away to college," I said.

"Well…" Kate said. "We're not all going away."

"Yeah," Melanie said. "I'm staying here for a couple of years to go to junior college."

"Same here," Kate said. "We're thinking about getting a place together."

"You two are the lucky ones," Rebecca said. "I'll be stuck with some random roommate at college."

"Well still," I said. "It's pretty sad we're all splitting up."

"We still got the year!" Tiffany said, obviously trying to sound positive.

"Indeed," Kate said. "But like Rebecca said, we all have busy schedules."

"Tiffany!" Tracy called from the hallway. "Come help pick an outfit!"

"I'll be back," Tiffany said, before rushing out the door.

"I'm going to put a few pins in this," Melanie said, while tugging at my borrowed dress. "I think we can turn it into what Tiffany requested."

"I swear," Kate said. "With her artistic nature, Tiff should be learning to alter her own clothes."

"We could make her help," Melanie said.

"Sounds good to me," Kate said.

"Tiffany give you any ideas what your costume is Bailey?" Rebecca asked.

"She didn't say," I said, "and I don't have a clue."

"I'm sure you'll love it," Melanie said.

Melanie began to pin the dress in various spots, particularly around the midsection. As she worked away, Kate started to slip out of her costume. She claimed she didn't want it to get ruined, but why she waited until I was there seemed like no mystery to me. Kate always liked to tease me with her sexiness. It was obvious to everyone, even Tiffany. Why Tiffany allowed it though, seemed to be the biggest mystery.

Seconds turned into minutes, as Melanie pinned away at the navy blue dress. I started to get a sense of what dress models went through. Rebecca began to talk to Kate about her own costume ideas. I wanted to eavesdrop, but Melanie started humming a popular song of the time. Eventually she got so loud with it, that Rebecca asked her to stop. Melanie slipped one last pin in the back of the dress.

"There we go," Melanie said. "Be careful when you take it off."

"Okay," I said.

"You're taking it in quite a bit," Kate said.

"Yeah," Melanie said. "I figure she won't grow much in the next three weeks."

"You better watch what you eat girly girl," Kate said.

"I'm off to my other project," Melanie said, grabbing Kate's makeup bag before leaving the room.

"We should really get you out of that," Kate said. "I don't want you to get stuck with a pin."

I felt Kate behind me. Her hands slid in between my arms and my sides, and nudged me to lift my arms in the air. Then I felt the dress being pulled upward, slowly and carefully. Kate did everything in her power to keep the alteration markers in place. Finally the dress slid over my head, and I stood there in my panties, bra and ankle socks.

"Let me get a hanger for this," Kate said.

My hands dropped to my body, trying to find some way to cover myself. Though Kate had seen me in less than what I had on, Rebecca had never seen me in anything less than a one-piece swimsuit. I felt a little embarrassed about the situation. Rebecca hardly looked at me, but it still felt uncomfortable. Kate noticed instantly when she turned back around.

"I should probably get you something to wear," Kate said.

"You want a blanket?" Rebecca asked.

"No," I said. "I'll just wait for some clothes."

Kate left the room, as I turned to face Rebecca. She and I shared a pleasant smile. I felt awkward being alone with Rebecca. We didn't really know each other well enough to call each other friends. She knew me as a friend of her sister, and I knew her as an older sister to a friend. That was about the extent of our relationship with each other. Though I felt bad about it, I never knew what to say to her.

"So how's school?" Rebecca asked.

"Pretty good," I said. "Except for pre-algebra."

"Oh I hated math," Rebecca said. "This is the first year I didn't have to take any."

"I don't have a problem with the numbers," I said. "Just when the letters are added, it gets sort of tricky."

"I was the same way," Rebecca said.

This tiny little thing we had in common, made me feel a bit more comfortable. I slowly let my guard down, letting my arms fall freely about. What was I thinking anyway? Rebecca was a girl, and probably thought of me as one too. We were just two girls standing in another girl's room and talking. What was so weird about that?

"Are you finding it easy to adjust to junior high?" Rebecca asked.

"Not hardly," I said. "I mean… having seven teachers a day is different from one, and having a locker is strange." I looked at the floor. "It's just school though."

"I lost a lot of my friends switching schools," Rebecca said. "How are you doing in that department?"

"I get to see all of the girls at least once a day," I said. "But I don't talk to many of my boy friends anymore."

"Ooh," Kate said, coming through the door. "So my girly girl has more than one boyfriend?"

"No!" I said. "I mean… I don't have any boyfriends. I meant boys who are friends."

"I'm just teasing you," Kate said. "Relax girly girl." She held up the clothes I discarded in Tiffany's room. "Got your clothes back."

I took my jeans from Kate and stumbled into them. By the time I got them fastened around my waist, Kate was holding out my shirt. Kate smiled as I started to put it on over the bra. After I realized what was amusing her so much, I removed the bra and handed it over to her. She seemed disappointed that I gave it up, but at the moment I wasn't into the whole dressing thing.

"Wow…" Rebecca said, as I got the shirt pulled down.

I looked up and saw she was looking at something behind me. So I turned around, and that was when I beheld the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Kale stood in the doorway, wearing a pale lavender dress. It flipped out into a bell skirt around his knees, which were encased in white tights. The dress hung from his small shoulders with inch-wide straps, and dipped down into a square neckline ending over his small, perky breasts.

Only they weren't breasts. I knew, from multiple times seeing myself in one, that Kale wore one of Tiffany's padded bras. Yet it looked so natural on him. He actually looked like a girl. Underneath the masterful makeup done by Melanie, with the ensemble picked by Tiffany and Tracy, Kale actually looked more girl than anyone in the room. I had to take it all in again just to be sure of it myself.

My gaze fell on his feet, and Tiffany's white strappy dress heels appeared to be too big for him. He actually had smaller feet than I did! I found this fascinating, as I thought it to be an anomaly that I wore the same size as most of my female friends. Kale looked so pretty, so innocent. He ultimately stole the show, in a manner of speaking. Everyone was speechless, except for Melanie.

"Ladies…" Melanie looked at me. "Gentleman…" She held out her hands toward Kale. "May I present Kayla!"

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 2

I still couldn't get over how cute Kale looked in that dress. All week I'd been thinking about him, adorned by the dainty lavender summer dress, with his white tights. Even the strappy sandals, he borrowed from Tiffany, looked adorable with his feet practically swimming in them. His makeup had been done perfectly by Melanie, and I couldn't shake his pristine image from my mind. How could it be, that I thought a boy in a dress looked cuter than an actual girl?

"Could you stop doing that please?"

I turned and looked into Tracy's hazel eyes. They weren't as pretty as Tiffany's, but they were still pretty. She had put her straight, red hair up into long pigtails. I honestly had a hard time deciphering the look she was going for, what with her too-large blue sweatshirt and loose-fit jeans, but she seemed to be comfortable in it. So I didn't bother to comment.

"Stop what?" I asked.

"Tapping your pencil," Tracy said, in a hushed, yet snippy, tone.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't realize I was doing it."

"Well you are," Tracy said. "Please stop."

In the small amount of time I had known Tracy, she had never really been short with me. I let my pencil roll from my hand, and it settled in the crack of my science book. Something seemed definitely wrong with Tracy. Now I had to figure out what was really bugging her. I leaned forward until she looked at me again.

"What?" she asked.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You seem upset."

"I don't wanna talk about it." Tracy turned her head away and stared at her book.

"Is it about your brother?" I asked.

"No," Tracy said, a bit defensively.

A moment of silence passed between us. I tried to think of anything else that might be bugging her, or at least causing her to act this way. Even though she said she didn't want to talk about it, I knew enough about girls at that point to know this was far from the truth. It really meant she didn't want to talk about it with me. Though I could understand her reasoning behind that notion, I still felt like I needed to help her somehow.

"Why would you think it was my brother?" Tracy asked.

"I just thought with what happened Tuesday…"

Tracy finally stopped to look at me. "Why would that be a problem?"

"I guess it's just my own paranoia," I said. "I'm so used to thinking it's a problem." I looked down at my open book. "Figured it might be a problem for other people."

"Well I hardly think one time constitutes it as a problem in any case," Tracy said. "Besides…" She turned back to look at her own book. "Even if he did it more, I'm comfortable with it."

"Really?"

"Yes," Tracy said. "The same goes for you too."

As much as it thrilled me to hear Tracy was comfortable being around my feminine side, it still didn't answer the nagging question pertaining to her present state. Like an idiot I continued to stare at her like I wouldn't look away until she answered. After several glances up at me, she finally gave in, and gave me the answer I was looking for. Yet for some reason, the answer wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped.

"I'm on my period," Tracy said in a harsh whisper. "Okay?"

"Oh…" My face felt like it had caught fire from an embarrassing blush. "I'm sorry…"

"Not like you caused it," Tracy said.

"No," I said. "I mean I'm sorry for bugging you about it."

"Ah," Tracy said. She turned to me. "At least it's something you'll never have to go through."

My mind started reeling as Tracy turned her face away. For the rest of class I focused on her sentiment. Sure, I would never have to go through something like a period, but I had my own cycle going. Rajan had me on two different medications. Both of them were administered to me at his office, and each carried me through the month. He made sure to alternate them, so they weren't given at the same time.

This all meant that every other week I had to see Rajan and get a shot in my backside. Then, apparently each following week, I would start having withdrawal symptoms from each shot. I knew it would never amount to what a girl went through every month, but the shots hurt and I felt awful after. They seldom made me physically sick, but I felt sore for a few days, and the constant ups and downs caused strains on my personal life. Every so often, I would feel a bit nauseous, and decline from eating.

"Remember," Mr. Jackson said, causing us all to look up at our teacher. "If you don't finish the questions at the end of the chapter, that'll be your homework for the weekend." He looked at the clock. "If you get them done before class ends, you can turn them in after the bell."

I glanced at the clock, and then at my unanswered questions. There were five to go with two minutes left in class. I couldn't possibly get them done, as I'd barely read the whole chapter. Instead I focused on another aspect of my weekend. It was Friday. Tonight I had to somehow be two people all at once.

Jason Coleman wanted me to meet him at the mall, and hook him up with Tracy somehow. Luckily Tracy already agreed to go to the mall, so half the battle of that had already been won. However, due to a mysterious letter put in Tiffany's art box on Tuesday, I also had to show up at the mall as my female alter ego. I left the outfit decisions to Tiffany, as it would be one less thing off of my mind.

Tiffany always managed to pick out the cutest outfits for me to wear. Though as a personal preference, she desired for me to always dress in the most feminine manner. I'm not saying she went to extremes with it, but she would always pick a skirt over jeans. Most of the time she would try to get me into a dress, but there were many occasions where it didn't seem at all practical.

Usually I couldn't wait to see what she picked. It surprised me most of the time, as she had slightly different tastes than I did. However, this time the selection process would be a bit different, and possibly a bit more difficult. She had to pick something I had in my closet, after only seeing my wardrobe a couple of times, as I wouldn't be able to go to her house before the mall. It would be interesting to see what she could pick out from memory.

The bell rang and snapped me into reality, though it didn't take me far away from my current thoughts. It only served to put me in a mindset to go to my next class. Through the uneventful walk to my next class, the same thoughts kept circling back to me. As much as I tried to escape them, or focus on something else, they just wouldn't go away. After a quick visit to my locker, I found myself sitting in English class waiting for the bell to ring.

Countless times I waffled back and forth on my decision to do what I did at the end of summer. Faced with the choice to go either way with my gender, I had chosen the male path. It seemed like the easiest choice when I weighed the pressure of my family and society against the other side of things. The bell rang. I looked up at my English teacher as she instructed us to open our books to some odd page. She waited a brief moment, and then she started to read a poem by Robert Frost.

I actually liked poetry. As the imagery of The Road Not Taken entered my head, I placed myself in those woods. I pictured myself standing where the two roads diverged. Like in the poem, I was one traveler who couldn't travel down both paths facing me. Why would this poem come now as I thought about the decision I had made? Could something, or someone, be reaching out to me in some way, on some level?

Both roads looked equally inviting. Yet, like in my own life, only one road seemed alluring enough to call out to me. The other road seemed more like a convenience. It would still be a good road to travel, but there wasn't anything special about it. If I chose the special path, it would be hard to go back to the other. Like in the poem, I doubted I ever would go back anyway.

"I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

My gaze dropped to my book. I stared at the poem for several minutes, while the end of it rang, in my teacher's voice, throughout my mind. She started asking questions, pulling the class into a discussion. I'd had too many discussions in my life, and for a brief amount of time I just wanted to cling to that moment. I wanted to cling to that poem, at the point where the two roads diverged. Why couldn't I stay there for awhile? Why did I have to choose so early?

The rest of class trickled by like water filling a tub one drop at a time. If there would be any kind of relief from the pace of the day, it wouldn't come with fourth period. Social studies seemed to reduce the drop of water filling the tub to half a drop. After those two hours, and a few bells later, I found myself in a semi-conscious daze at lunch. As much as I enjoyed the company of who I ate with, I started to get bored with the daily routine. I caught bits and pieces, as they came to me, of Tracy's conversation with Tiffany.

"And she's been sick the past few days," Tracy said. "So she probably won't be coming tonight."

"Who?" I asked, now somewhat interested in the conversation.

"Danielle," Tracy said. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Sorry…" I said. "I'm just thinking about something from English."

"We still want to do this tonight?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm up to it," Tracy said.

"You still up to it?" Tiffany asked, nudging me with her shoe on my leg.

"I think we better go through with it," I said.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Tiffany said.

"We're going to be at the mall," I said. "With tons of people around."

"I'm not talking about that," Tiffany said. "I mean something could happen as a result of this." She leaned forward as if having a private conversation with me. "This could just be the start of someone wanting to abuse you."

"Well what can I do?" I asked.

"I don't know," Tiffany said. "I just have a bad feeling about it all."

"Well…" Tracy said. "There should be enough of us there to keep you safe for at least one night. Our sisters are going too." She gave me a concerned look. "Did you ask your brother to go?"

"He's hanging out with some of his jock buddies," I said. "Won't even drop me off at Tiffany's house."

"Well that sucks," Tiffany said. "We could've used a little time to get you ready. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. I lowered my voice. "Any thoughts on my outfit?"

"See!" Tiffany said to Tracy. "I told you he'd secretly be excited about this."

"You were right," Tracy said.

"I'm not excited," I said. Both girls looked at me like I was the biggest liar on the planet. "Okay… I'm a little excited, but mostly anxious."

"I'd be a nervous wreck," Tracy said.

"We'll be okay," Tiffany said. "We'll get through this together." She gave me a half smile, and leaned forward. "I'll figure out your outfit and let you know in art class."

Tiffany reached out and patted my left hand. The rest of lunch went by in relative silence, which was unusual for us. It felt like Tiffany and I were embarking on our first potentially dangerous outing since I started cross-dressing. The more I thought about what I had to do that night, the more I wanted to get it over with. If someone was going to be tormenting me about dressing as a girl, I wanted to know who, and what better way than to drag them out of hiding at the mall.

"So you're definitely in tonight?" I asked Tracy.

"Wouldn't miss it," Tracy said as the bell rang.

"We should get there around seven," Tiffany said.

"Okay," Tracy said. "We'll meet at the fountain in the food court."

"See you there," I said, picking up my nearly empty tray.

After my routine kiss with Tiffany, we walked to put our trays away at the front of the cafeteria. In a break from the ordinary, Tiffany parted company with me there. We usually walked back to class together, but she claimed she had to get something from her locker. I gave her another quick peck on the lips and she took off in the other direction. So I decided to go a different path myself.

I had almost made it out of the bathroom, after finishing my business and washing my hands. Instead I found myself face-to-face with Jason. His lips curled into a menacing smile as he blocked my exit. With each step he took forward, I took one step back. He didn't look at all ticked off, but he didn't look extremely happy either. His left hand clapped down on my right shoulder.

"I have had one crappy day," Jason said. "Please tell me you have some good news about tonight."

"I do actually," I said.

"Well spill it!"

"Tracy is definitely going to the mall tonight," I said. "She's meeting the other girls near the fountain at seven."

"You're going right?" Jason asked, squeezing my shoulder a bit.

"I'll try," I said. "It depends if I can get a ride."

"Damn it B!" Jason said. "I need you there." He pulled his hand from my shoulder and walked past me. "I'm scared I'll blow it."

I turned and looked at Jason. He stood before the mirror, hunched over with his hands on the sink. It was the first time I ever saw him out of his normal "tough bully" character. I had never seen him drop his guard like that before, and it put me in an awkward position. He never really struck me as the type of person that needed consoling. Even if he did at that moment, I didn't honestly want to be the person to reach out to him.

"Look…" I said. "Just be nice to her. You won't blow anything."

"Of course I'll be nice to her," Jason said. "I just don't know how to act around girls."

"She likes nice guys," I said. "Don't try to be all tough around her. She hates that."

Jason looked at me in the mirror. "How the hell do you know so much about them?"

"I'm nice to them," I said, "and I listen. They open up to me. That's all."

"You sure you aren't one?" Jason said, with a subtle laugh.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," I said.

Jason raised his right eyebrow. "Pretty sure?"

"Okay," I said. "Positively sure. You happy?"

"No," Jason said. "Not really…" He looked down at the sink. "I'm just messin' with you, but it would be a lot easier if girls were like guys." He turned the sink on, and looked back at me in the mirror. "I have no problem talking to guys."

"For some reason I find it easier to talk to girls," I said.

"And that's why they like you," Jason said. "I guess if I don't see you tonight, I'll see you when I see you."

"Just relax tonight," I said. "She's really not that hard to talk to."

"You better get back to homeroom," Jason said, eyeing me in the mirror. "And hey! Don't tell anyone about this."

"Not a word," I said.

I waited until Jason dropped his gaze to the sink, and then I made my way out of the bathroom. The next few hours passed as slow as the first five. Even art glass didn't cheer me up like I thought it would. We ended up spending the whole hour taking pictures for our next project. The small amount of time I got to talk to Tiffany, consisted of us reading another letter she found in her art box.

It was a rather simple letter. Basically the mystery person told us to meet them at the mall at seven. Unfortunately they asked us to meet them at the fountain where everyone else would gather. I kept the plans about Jason meeting Tracy to myself, but I knew I had to tell at least Tracy before something bad happened. This kept my mind preoccupied through the rest of the school day, as well as the bus ride home.

"Hey!" I shouted, as I came in the front door of my house. "I'm home." I could hear the television going in the front room, but nobody responded to me. "Anyone home?"

I eased the front door closed, and locked it. As I started up the stairs, I hefted my school bag up on my shoulder. I knew Justin wouldn't be home when I got there. On Friday he usually had a short practice with the junior varsity. Then he sometimes stuck around for the varsity game, if it was a home game. Most of the time he'd goof around after practice so he didn't have to come straight home.

My mother had started getting involved with her job, and had been promoted to a high-end assistant at her marketing company. This sometimes left the house quite empty on the nights Tom worked late. Sometimes it even had us fending for ourselves to fix dinner. In the process I had learned to cook a little bit, and I honestly didn't mind doing it. Tom cooked other nights, if he would get home in time. I didn't smell anything cooking though.

"Hello?" I shouted.

As I reached the middle of the staircase, the kitchen door flew open at the top of the stairs. Tom soon filled the doorway. His faded blue jeans were decorated with long streaks of oil and grease, while his plain white t-shirt looked almost tan in spots. It looked like he had one filthy day of cleaning semi trucks. He held his hand over the bottom of the phone, which he had pressed up against his ear. The look in his eyes sat somewhere between impatient and perturbed.

"I'm on the phone," Tom said.

"Sorry," I said, quietly. "I just wanted to see if anyone was home."

Tom gave me a concerned look. "Hey Robert," he said, into the phone. "Could you hold on for a minute?" A slight pause came as he listened to the other end. "Yeah. One of the kids just got home. I need to tell him something."

Tom held the phone down to his side. The look of concern on his face contorted into a pleasant smile. In my eyes, Tom had made great strides to reach out to me more. He tried to be more patient and understanding. It really did show in his demeanor, but he still had a bit of his old ways coursing through his veins. Sometimes he got really abrupt with me during our more heated moments.

"I got something for you," Tom said.

I could feel my eyes filling with some excitement. "What?"

"It's not much," Tom said. "I put it on your dresser."

I rushed up the remaining stairs. "What is it?"

"Go see!" Tom said.

He was smiling as I turned to hurry down the hallway. As I neared my door, I could hear him going back to his conversation with Robert. If it was Robert from his work, I had only met him one time. He was a big red-faced burly guy from what I could recall, with a bristly black beard and short black hair. I remembered him bossing people around, telling them to clean the trucks faster, but he wasn't Tom's boss. He may have even worked under Tom.

As I stepped into my room, my eyes immediately went to my dresser. My school bag slipped from my shoulder and settled with a thud on the floor. I stepped over to the dresser, as if I were walking toward a dark cave; unsure of what would be there. Though unlike the dark cave, I saw what was there on my dresser. Plain as day, sat a small white book, with a B inscribed on the cover in elaborate gold detail. I picked it up with both hands, as Tom stepped into the doorway.

"A diary?" I asked.

"Diary. Journal. Whatever you wanna call it," Tom said. "I thought it would be a nice way for you to collect your thoughts." He leaned against the doorframe, a beer bottle dangling from his right hand.

"Thank you," I said.

"Eh," Tom said, with a shrug. "I figured you're going through a tough time." He brought the bottle up to his lips to take a swig from it. "Maybe," he said, pulling the bottle way. "If you could write down what you're feeling… you know… as a way to get it all out there, it might help you."

I opened the book, and silently thumbed through the blank pages. "I like it," I said, turning to look at Tom. "It was a nice thought."

"Well…" Tom said, breaking our gaze. "I'm gonna get dinner going. Why don't you get cleaned up and join me in the kitchen?"

I nodded quietly, shutting the book and holding it to my chest. Aside from all of the basics, like food, shelter and such, this was the nicest thing Tom had bought for me in a long time. I never expected much, knowing that our family struggled most of the time, but Tom usually just sucked at picking out gifts. He returned my nod, only in a firmer, more macho form. Then he stepped out of my doorway, and disappeared down the hall. I stood there for a moment, blinking, in a startled daze.

"Are you going out tonight?" Tom asked, as I walked into the kitchen.

"Yes," I said. "We're all meeting at the mall around seven."

"What do you kids even do there?"

"Just hang out," I said. "Talk and stuff."

"Talk?" Tom shook his head. "I would think you'd get tired of talking." He went back to mixing something in a bowl. "You need a ride?"

"Kate's picking me up," I said.

"Kate?"

"Tiffany's older sister," I said.

"Oh right," Tom said. "The girl Justin likes."

"Justin likes too many girls," I said.

Tom looked back at me and chuckled. "Well, he is a teenage boy." He went back to mixing. "It's normal."

"I guess so," I said. "What are you making?"

"Twice baked potatoes," Tom said. "Thought I'd grill some steaks and have a nice meal for a change."

"Where did you learn how to cook?" I asked.

Tom laughed. "I know I talk big about it being a woman's job and all, but believe it or not, my father taught me how to cook." He turned and smiled at me. "It really is a valuable thing for anyone to learn." He turned his attention back to mixing. "Teaches them how to fend for themselves. Incase one day they find themselves living on their own… you know… incase their wife decides to leave them."

I could nearly taste the venom attached to his last statement. He appeared to gain a look of pain and remorse for a brief moment. Then he went back to cooking, adding a bit more vigor to it, like he was mad at the food. It seemed to piss him off thinking about it, and I don't know why I pressed the issue. I guess curiosity got the better of me.

"You were married before mom?" I asked.

"Eh," Tom said. "It's all old history, but yeah. My first wife left after…"

"After what?" I asked, as I watched Tom turn to look busy in the refrigerator.

"How's school Bailey?" Tom asked.

"Fine," I said. "What happened? Why did your first wife leave?"

"I don't think now's the right time to talk about it," Tom said. He turned and faced me. "Maybe when you're a bit older."

A small silence satiated the room. Tom and I stared at each other in an awkward standoff. I could tell there seemed to be some obvious pain in this current line of discussion. Deep down, beneath the layers of his tough exterior, Tom had some strong feelings held up inside of him. I decided not to push the issue anymore tonight, as we were acting civil toward each other lately. There really wasn't any need to piss him off.

"I should probably get ready for tonight," I said, appearing to wince myself away from the conversation.

"Um, yeah," Tom said. "You go ahead. I'll finish dinner. We can eat before you leave."

I wanted to leave the room on a good note. "Thanks again for the diary," I said, as I started to leave the kitchen.

"No problem," Tom said. "Oh!" He waited until I brought my focus back to him. "Girl or boy tonight?"

"Girl," I said, looking at the floor in a bit of embarrassment. I expected to get a small riot act from him about continuing to dress like a girl.

"Curfew is ten then," Tom said, before turning back to his cooking. His flippant attitude stunned me for a moment.

"Okay," I said, before leaving the kitchen.

I never argued with my mother or Tom about curfew. In all honesty, the times they set were pretty fair. Justin and I both had a nine o'clock curfew on weekdays, and he got to stay out until midnight on weekends; usually because of late after-game parties. I had to be home by eleven if I was out as a boy, or sometimes a bit later if out with Justin, and ten if I chose to be a girl. It really wasn't much of a problem, as most of the girls I ran around with had to be home by then, and I usually came home well before my curfew. I also knew to call if I would be late.

Once I had freshened up, and put on my attire for the evening, I returned to the kitchen. My mother still wasn't home, and my brother apparently went to do something with Nathan. So I shared a nice somewhat quiet meal with Tom. I really wanted to ask him about his first wife, but I refrained and stuck to less colorful chitchat. It was pretty nice not having a fight at the table for once.

This didn't keep Tom from being a bit put out at not having my mother there for dinner, but he seemed even more pissed that Justin blew it off. I could tell he put a lot of effort into the meal, and it all tasted like a professional chef had made it. He grumbled that he would cook my mother's later, but said my brother could "cook his own damn steak" in his own words. Near the end of dinner, Tom even complimented me for being courteous enough to stay.

By the time I crawled into the backseat of Kate's Accord, I felt at ease about tonight's little adventure. It was actually the pleasant atmosphere at home that helped the most. All week I had been dreading this evening. Although I still felt anxious about what would happen, I didn't have this overwhelming empty feeling in the pit of my stomach anymore. As we drew closer to the mall, however, the empty feeling started to fester again. After finding a parking spot, Tiffany took up my hand as we followed Kate into the crowded mall.

It would have been so much easier if we had all stuck together that night at the mall. Instead, the older girls went off to do their own thing. I assumed they only wanted to be away from us. Megan and Tawny ran off as well, probably to slip into a dark area where they could be alone. Rachel and Vanessa apparently were late, or a no show, and Danielle we knew was sick.

This left only Tiffany, Tracy and I at the fountain. I sat between the two of them on the edge, both literally and physically. Not even the rushing of the fountain water calmed me down. My legs were neatly crossed in a ladylike manner, with my hands folded gently in my lap. Each time I switched legs, the gentle friction of my nylon-clad legs rubbing against each other reminded me of my vulnerability.

As I switched my legs again, I subconsciously smoothed my knee length skirt. Normally I wouldn't have worn it, but Tiffany reminded me of the letter telling us to both wear something pretty. To Tiffany this meant a dress or skirt. So in line with her suggestions, I'd picked out a black skirt from my closet. It was a bit form-fitting, but I liked how the crisp accordion pleats allowed it to open a bit more for extra movement.

My right foot started to bob up and down, causing me to look at my shoes. I could forget making a run for it. Out of concern for keeping appearances up, I went with my black Oxfords. They were absolutely adorable, and definitely pretty and feminine. The only problem happened to be the two and a half inch tapered heels on them. While I hadn't taken Melanie and Kate up on their offer to teach me how to be more girly, I did secretly practice at home; walking among other things. I had grown quite accustomed to walking in higher heels, but not so much running in them.

We didn't sit at the most obscure place either. With the hustle and bustle of the food court in full Friday night swing, many people would sit and gaze at the fountain. It seemed to be a tranquil escape from the insanity of screaming kids and the talking people surrounding it. For me it wasn't so tranquil. Instead I felt like I sat on display, and everyone looked toward me.

Anyone taking a gander at the fountain could be the person who wrote that letter, or at least anyone around my age. The closer it got to seven o'clock, the more my body filled with anxiety. I secretly hoped my mystery stalker would arrive early. Then at least we could pull him away from the fountain before Jason showed up to meet Tracy. Two friends weren't enough to calm my nerves. I didn't feel safe.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"You really need to get a watch," Tiffany said, flipping her wrist up. "It's ten 'til."

"I should've told Jason to meet you somewhere else," I said to Tracy. "If he sees me here with you two, he's going to know."

"I'm kinda glad you told me," Tracy said. "At least I know to expect him."

"Well don't act like you do," I said.

"Don't worry," Tracy said. "I know how to play it."

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled.

"You could sit away from us," Tiffany said, "and come over if our mystery guy shows up."

"No," I said. "He told us to sit together at the fountain."

Tiffany slid her arm around mine. With her other hand she started to rub the sleeve of my pink sweater. She couldn't get enough of the soft velour. I hoped the soft pink would be pretty enough for this person. As an extra splash of femininity, I wore a lacy white camisole beneath the plunging V neckline. If that didn't do it, I had painted my fingernails a soft carnation pink, to match the sweater, and added perfume to the mix.

Kate and Tiffany had come into my house for a few minutes before we left. After Tom had greeted them, and disappeared like we all had the plague, the two girls took me into the bathroom for some finishing touches. Kate gave me a quick feminine hairstyle, crammed with bouncy curls produced from my mother's curling iron. She claimed I had to learn how to style it myself, but happily finished my look with some subtle makeup; including some kissable pink lipstick and gloss.

The thing that really puzzled me, is why our mystery letter writer got Tiffany more involved in the matter. From his original letter, I assumed he only wanted me to come and dress pretty. The second letter clearly wanted Tiffany to do the same, and gave specifics on where and when to meet. Not only that, but Tiffany had happily agreed. She usually hated being told how to dress, but now she sat next to me with all the frills I had applied to myself.

I had to admit, Tiffany did look adorable. She wore a plum colored long sleeve turtleneck dress. The skirt of the dress came down to within two inches of her knees, while the top of the dress looked extremely form fitting. Her bra underneath barely showed any visible signs that it was there.

The rest of Tiffany's outfit consisted of tan hose, a bit darker than my own, and a pair of plum colored three inch heel pumps. She hardly ever wore heels outside of extremely special occasions. Perhaps she thought this was a special occasion. Either that, or she thought she had no choice other than to do it for this mystery guy. I hoped he didn't aim to hurt Tiffany in this.

"You sure this isn't one of your neighbors playing a joke on us?" Tiffany asked Tracy, while leaning across me.

"None of my neighbors are close to our age," Tracy said, "and not one of them is in junior high. How could they have put it in your box at school?"

"I'm starting to get a bit worried," Tiffany said. "Not only about who it is, but now I'm starting to think he'll make us sit here until Jason shows up."

"What if it is Jason?" I asked, now trying to make some kind of connection.

"He wouldn't have known about the pool party," Tiffany said. "Besides, he's interested in Tracy. Why would he try to blackmail her friends?"

"To weasel her into being his girlfriend," I said. "That is what bullies do you know."

"I don't think it's him," Tiffany said.

"Maybe I should move over to the other side of the fountain just incase," Tracy said.

"You sure?" Tiffany asked. "I don't want you to be alone."

"I'll be within yelling distance," Tracy said. "I'll meet you two back here around nine if we get split up. Hopefully your stalker will untie you by then."

"Not funny," Tiffany said, sourly.

"Jason's going to be so pissed that I didn't show up," I said.

"Technically you did," Tiffany said.

"That's true," I said.

"Say you got grounded or something," Tracy said, standing up from the fountain. A look of concern filled her slightly chubby face. "I was just teasing before, but you two be careful."

"Good luck with Jason," Tiffany said, seemingly calm now.

I watched Tracy walk around the fountain until she disappeared around the big square in the center. Tracy had fixed her hair, from earlier today, into wavy strands held up on one side with a yellow ribbon. She also had exchanged her sweatshirt for a nice yellow top, but she kept the jeans and tennis shoes. I guess she wanted to find a nice balance of comfort and style. It felt kind of wrong dragging her into meeting Jason, especially when I knew she was on her period. I'm sure she felt like crap at the moment.

"Is there anyone who would've had a brother around our age?" I asked. "Maybe someone came with their parents to pick another girl up, and they saw us."

"That's a possibility," Tiffany said. "I don't know everyone who was there though."

"I didn't know anyone there, except you and Kate."

"Not many of Kate's close friends were there," Tiffany said. "Just Rebecca and Lynne."

"Lynne was there?"

"Yes," Tiffany said. "You probably weren't looking for her though."

"That's true," I said. "I didn't know her then."

"What if we're over thinking this?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well…" Tiffany said. "Vanessa was the one who thought it was a guy, but the letter never said. She just assumed it was a guy, because they had crappy handwriting."

"You think it's a girl with crappy handwriting?" I asked.

"It would make more sense," Tiffany said. "Given that they literally saw us there at the pool party."

"But who?" I asked.

"The only other girl I knew at the party, besides Tracy, was…"

Tiffany's words trailed off as she stared at someone across the mall. I followed her gaze and my eyes came across a young girl with short brunette hair styled in a strict and preppy crop cut. Her preppy style carried right down to her apparel. With a navy blue, gray and white argyle sweater, over a white collared shirt, and a tan pencil skirt extending to her knees, she looked like the poster child for the Back Street Boys.

The young girl glided with ease, through the food court, in her navy blue pumps. They had to have at least a three inch heel, maybe more, as her legs appeared to be well defined with each step she took. Every step she took into the light, made her sheer pantyhose glisten. I had never seen anyone around our age with such refinement. She walked right up to us, and pulled her square glasses from her turquoise eyes.

"Jillian Wilcox," Tiffany said, looking up into the girl's eyes.

"I take it you got my letter," Jillian said, her smug smile unwavering.

"We're here aren't we?" Tiffany asked.

Jillian had a cuteness to her face unlike any I'd ever seen. I surely would've remembered her from the pool party if we had met. She had a sort of bubbly roundness to her face, which made her appear youthful and fun, but in her current demeanor made her look incredibly sexy. Her cheeks were round, along with her chin, but not chubby.

Jillian seemed to have the cutest mouth I'd ever seen, with the perfect amount of poutiness; and the cupid's bow, which I loved on girls. The color of Jillian's eyes took away the slight puffiness beneath them. I chalked this up to her wearing glasses. They were framed nicely though with her perfectly groomed eyebrows, which took on a wicked arch making her look more exotic. With her light olive complexion and cute button nose, I had a hard time taking my eyes off of her. She noticed this as well.

"I'm glad your friend could make it too," Jillian said, looking directly at me. "Will be more fun with the both of you."

"What will?" I asked, a bit nervously.

"You both look adorable," Jillian said, looking us both over.

"Are you going to tell us what this is about?" Tiffany asked.

Jillian just held her hand up and with her index finger she coaxed us to follow her. Tiffany and I both stood, her arm still wrapped around mine. As we followed Jillian back through the food court, I could see Jason coming down an escalator from another point in the mall. I felt somewhat relieved to be leaving the area before he got there. However, I wasn't so sure about going with this girl either.

"I wasn't exactly sure why my sister suggested you two," Jillian said, turning to face us once we stepped onto an escalator. "Now I get it though." She looked us both up and down. "You're about the same size."

"What does your sister have to do with it?" Tiffany asked.

"She works at 'Tweens, a store which targets kids around our age group," Jillian said. "Every so often they have girls our age model in their store windows for a couple of hours at a time." She smiled. "My sister picked you two out at the pool party."

"Wait a minute," I said. "I don't think I'm interested in that."

"Oh come on!" Jillian said. Her eyes filled with excitement. "Every girl wants to be a model at least once in their lifetime." She looked in my eyes. "Besides, you have the look for it."

"What do we get out of it?" Tiffany asked, quickly changing the subject. "Do we get paid?"

"You get to keep anything you model," Jillian said. "It's not the most expensive stuff in the world, but nice clothes to have. Shoes too, but you can't keep jewelry."

"I'm in!" Tiffany said, without even having to think about it.

"I thought so," Jillian said, turning back around. "It's pretty simple really. I've done it before, and all you do is try to hold a position for a few minutes."

"I'm still not sure," I said.

"What's the hang up?" Jillian said, turning to face me as we stepped off the escalator.

"I think you already know," I said.

"If it's about your little secret," Jillian said. "I just said that to get you two here, looking like you do." She smiled. "And you both look pretty. I wouldn't worry about your secret too much. 'Tweens is an equal opportunity employer."

"It's all I'm worried about," I said. "What if someone sees?"

Jillian stepped forward and lowered her voice. "Well it's not like you two are going to be all lesbian in front of people while you model."

"Wait…" Tiffany said, giggling a little. "That's what you think the big secret is?"

"Well yes," Jillian said. "After your little tryst in the shower…" She stopped herself from finishing. "What else would it be?"

Tiffany shook her head. "We thought --"

I pulled on the arm Tiffany had wrapped around mine. "What she means to say," I said, giving Tiffany a wide-eyed look. "Is that we're not lesbians. If that's what you thought." I turned to see Jillian with a confused look on her face.

"We're actually not," Tiffany said.

"We're both just a bit bi-curious," I said, picking up where Tiffany left off, and making it seem more like a cover.

Tiffany looked at me a bit surprised. "You know how rumors get started," she said, turning to face Jillian.

"Oh…" Jillian said. For the first time she appeared to hesitate on what to say next, but it didn't slow her down much. "In any case," she said. "Would you two be interested?"

"Come on!" Tiffany said, nudging me with her elbow. "It'll be fun!"

I glanced at Tiffany, and then back to Jillian. She looked like she would break into tears if I said no to her. Apparently she had a bit riding on this as well. I would feel bad if she got shorted somehow by failing to get us to go along with it. Still… she did sort of blackmail us into doing what she wanted, and it felt wrong letting her get away with it. I glanced back at Tiffany one more time, and saw she really wanted to do it. Like always, I couldn't deny her, and we would both get free clothes out of the deal.

"Okay," I said. "I'm in too."

"Great!" Jillian said. I thought she would leave the floor in a short leap, but she simply rocked up and down on her toes, like some excitable anime character. "I'll take you both to the store, and you can meet with Casey."

Jillian seemed cheerful now, beneath the sincere expression on her face. She turned on the balls of her feet, and started to walk. We quickly followed after her. Even over the roar of the Friday night mall crowd, I could still hear the clicking of our heels upon the floor. As I glanced around in an attempt to foresee anyone we would need to avoid, I caught Tiffany staring at Jillian's legs. Tiffany noticed me noticing her, and leaned her head toward me.

"She's cute," Tiffany said, in a whisper. "Don't you think?"

"I guess so," I replied, looking at Jillian. "In a bubbly librarian way."

"Just look at those legs," Tiffany whispered, "and her butt. They're amazing."

I honestly didn't see why Tiffany was still with me. Once I had found out she liked girls, it kind of opened up this rift between us. She obviously liked my girly side more than my boyish side, and her self-proclaimed bisexuality was merely self-denial. I tried to be supportive, but I knew she would eventually get tired of me once I hit that male point-of-no-return. She simply found girls more attractive.

"You really think so?" I asked.

"You don't?" Tiffany asked.

"If that's what you like," I said, "I say go for it."

"No way!" Tiffany said in a still hushed tone. "She'd never…"

I smiled inwardly. That little hint of doubt, Tiffany had, was the only thing that kept us together, in my opinion. At least for the time being, her shyness about her sexuality kept her comfortable with me. She already had an outlet to explore with, so she never actively sought another. Eventually she would overcome it, and maybe want to look for other outlets. I knew in my heart the next outlet would most likely be an actual girl to replace me.

We continued to walk past a few benches, and a booth selling sunglasses. I finally took notice of my surroundings, and could smell the mixed scents of the candle store nearby. About thirty or forty feet away, a sign reading 'Tweens shone down in bright pink and blue neon letters. Even though the sign appeared to appeal to both sexes, I noticed the store carried mainly apparel for young girls. Only about one sixth of the store seemed to be comprised of male attire.

Jillian walked us through racks and tables of clothes. I must have picked out about ten items I wanted to try on, just from our short walk. Even their obscure and small selection of shoes caught my attention. Jillian walked us right up to the cashier counter. We were greeted by a mildly attractive young woman. I took notice of her nametag and instantly pegged her as Jillian's sister, Casey.

She didn't look much like her sister, except for the brunette color of her hair. Casey's hair, however, fell in tight curly tresses down to her shoulders. It framed her heart-shaped face nicely, and most of my attention came to rest on her bright blue eyes. They weren't as intense as Jillian's eyes, but they were quite unique in their shade. I noticed she shared the cupid's bow upper lip like her sister's, but they weren't as pouty.

"This is Tiffany and…" Jillian turned to me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I never caught your name."

"It's Bailey," I said, extending my right hand toward Casey.

Casey reached out and gently took my hand. "I told you they were a couple of pretty ones," she said, to her sister. "Turn." Casey held my hand up as I did an impromptu turn for her. "Nice." She held out her other hand to get Tiffany to turn as well. "I think I could get you both into a nine or ten in junior sizes." She looked us both over again. "Maybe even an eight."

"I'll leave you two here," Jillian said to us. "I have to get back out there and hand coupons out."

Tiffany and I watched Jillian pick up a stack of coupons and a clipboard. Then she casually walked out of the store and vanished into the crowd outside. I noticed Tiffany had a bit of a longing look on her face when she turned back to face me. It hurt me a little bit for her to be looking after someone else. Casey's voice shattered my reflections on the subject.

"Did my sister give you all the details on this?"

"Not exactly," Tiffany said. "She mentioned modeling and keeping clothes."

"Well…" Casey said. "That's part of it."

Casey stepped around the counter, and I took notice of her apparel. She wore the apparel of a smart business woman, in the simplest of forms. A dark grey pencil skirt contrasted her subtly off-white long sleeved blouse. Her legs, from what I saw from her ankles to the bottoms of her knees, looked very nice in her sheer black hose. She completed the outfit with black three inch pumps, silver necklace and bracelet, and a two inch wide black belt, with a large silver buckle, over her blouse.

"Every second Friday of each month, we have a promotional," Casey said. "We choose a few random girls or boys around your age to model our clothes in the display windows, or go around the mall handing out coupons for five to ten dollars off towards a purchase here." She coaxed us to follow her as she walked through the store. "Instead of paying the girls or boys to model, the store lets them keep the outfits they model. In the case of handing out coupons, they get some of their own." She turned sharply to face us. "There are a few limits."

"What are they?" Tiffany asked.

"You can't keep coats, jackets, jewelry, or any other accessories," Casey said. "You're limited to what the store supplies for you to wear, which are mostly sales items." She turned to walk a bit more. "None of the promotional items can be exchanged for store credit, and you can't go over one hundred dollars each." She stopped and turned back to us. "If at any point in time you act up while promoting our products, the deal is void, and you get nothing."

"That all sounds reasonable," I said.

"We don't get to choose what to model in though?" Tiffany asked.

"Unfortunately, you don't," Casey said. "We found too many kids take advantage of that, so we limited it to sales items at the store's discretion." She smiled at us. "Don't worry though. I won't make you wear anything ridiculous."

"I'm up to it," Tiffany said. "Free clothes are free clothes."

"We still have to work for them," I said, nudging her arm. "I'll go along though."

"Are you two friends?" Casey asked, while turning to look through a rack of sales items.

"Best friends," Tiffany said, wrapping her arms around me in a friendly hug.

"Well that's good," Casey said, smiling. "You two should have fun with this then."

"Oh, I'm sure we will," I said.

"I think we'll stick to skirts for you," Casey said, looking me over. "Jeans, and maybe a dress later for Tiffany."

"Bailey loves skirts," Tiffany said, giving me a wink.

"You read my mind," I said, taking a brown leather mini skirt from Casey. "This is on sale?"

"I know," Casey said. "Shocking isn't it?" She gave me a smile. "Just because you have to settle for sales items, doesn't mean we're going to be cheapskates."

"I really like it," I said, feeling the leather.

"Hope it fits then," Casey said. "There's a changing area in the back." She looked down at me. "Keep your hose and undergarments on, and I'll bring the rest back to you."

"Okay," I said, starting to walk back to the changing room.

"Oh," Casey said. "What size shoe do you wear sweetie?"

I almost blurted out my male size, but Tiffany interrupted me. "She wears the same as me," Tiffany said. "Size four and a half."

"Very good," Casey said to herself. "So probably a five boot." She started rummaging through a sales rack. "You two are going to be into women's sizes soon enough."

I wandered off and soon found myself alone in a changing room. The skirt was actually pretty nice for a sales item. I hoped beyond hope that it fit, more so than Casey's casual response to me saying I liked it. Gracefully I sat and removed my shoes. I couldn't wait to see what else she picked out for me to wear. I stood and started to remove my skirt.

Normally I didn't like anyone else picking my clothes out. Tiffany was usually the only one I'd allow to do so, but she knew what I liked most of the time. My mom had picked clothes out for me countless times, but she usually hit about fifty percent on what I liked. Nathan went one for one the only time he picked something for me to wear. I guess he paid attention to me after all. It would be a new experience to have someone else pick outfits out for me.

As I finished pulling on the leather skirt, I found it came to a perfectly snug fit. The hem fell a little below mid-thigh, which was alright with me. I had worn skirts shorter than this before, so it didn't mean much. I'm sure my mother would disagree if I wore something like it out in public. Right when I started to take my sweater off, I heard a knock on the stall door.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Are you decent?" Casey asked.

"Oh," I said. "I am."

Casey waited for me to open the door, and she stepped into the doorway. She put a top on the hook, and set down a large box on the bench. Then she stood and admired the skirt. When she motioned for me to turn around, I did as she desired. I felt her tug a bit at the hem of the skirt, pulling it down another inch or so, before she had me turn back around.

"It's meant to be worn lower," Casey said. "Below the waist a bit." She stood up straight with her hands on her hips. "If you give me your clothes, I can put them in the back where they'll be safe."

"Oh," I said, a bit hesitantly. "No problem…"

I shook a bit, as I reached for the bottom of my sweater. After a short breath, and figuring it was just like undressing in front of Kate and Melanie, I pulled the sweater off over my head. As I brought it down, starting to fidget with the sleeves, I noticed Casey looking me over. She seemed to be admiring something, but I didn't know what until she spoke.

"Cute cami."

"Thanks," I said, noticeably blushing.

"Why don't you keep that on?" Casey asked, "and I'll go get you a different top." She took my sweater and skirt. "I think it'll look better." She waited for me to hand her my shoes. "Cute shoes too!"

"Thanks," I said, still blushing.

"I'll be right back."

With that, Casey was gone. I shut the door to the stall, and turned to the box on the bench. It was rather large, and I knew it had to be boots. Casey had even mentioned boots. I peeled the box top off and stared amorously at the contents. Therein sat a pair of knee high brown leather boots, nearly the same color as my skirt. They had a rounded toe and about a three inch stacked heel.

Before I could even act upon putting them on, Casey came back to my door and knocked. She didn't wait for an answer this time, and just opened the door. In one hand she had a pair of long white knit socks. While in her other hand she held a burgundy long sleeved top. I took notice of what the top had to offer, or rather what it lacked, as it was a crop top with only two buttons on the front to hold the plunging V neckline closed.

"Cute huh?" Casey asked.

I nodded as she hung the top up on the hook. She handed me the socks, and smiled as she exited the stall again. I waited for the door to close all the way, before I undid the miniscule packaging on the socks. Once I had them unwrapped and off of the little plastic hangers, I put them on one at a time. They came all the way up past my knees, and touched the hem of my skirt.

"What's the point of keeping the hose on with these things?" I muttered to myself.

The socks were wool, but felt soft, and though a bit warm, I still liked the bumpy texture of them. I admired them for a little while, before pulling my attention back to the boots. There honestly wasn't much that could keep me away from trying on new footwear. I loved pretty much anything to do with female shoes and boots. A satisfied smile spread across my face as I pulled the left boot from the box.

After a few minutes of fighting laces, I finally had the boots tied snugly around my lower legs. They covered my calves up to within a few inches of my knees. I took a moment to admire how soft the leather felt, and they appeared to be extremely comfortable. When I had put them on, I noticed they were a size five and a half, but they fit perfectly over the hose and socks. Maybe my feet were growing, if nothing else seemed to be at the time.

"Everything okay in there?" Casey said, knocking gently on the door.

"Perfect," I said, reaching for the top.

I reached for the handle of the door, and it swung open to two sets of peering eyes. One set belonged to Casey, who held her hand over a smile as she saw my legs. As I fiddled around to get the top on, Casey stooped down and adjusted my socks. She pushed them down to where they appeared to be scrunched up around my knees. Then she stood up and nodded in satisfaction.

"I believe that's how they're wearing them on the east coast," Casey said.

By then my attention had already shifted to the other pair of eyes looking at me. They were the pretty hazel eyes of Tiffany. She looked extremely sexy in her outfit. Even at that age I knew what sex appeal was, and my girlfriend displayed it proudly. Tiffany wore a pair of straight cut jeans, which hugged her in all the right places. If Casey weren't there, I would have been trying to get my hands all over Tiffany.

She had been given a pair of strappy black sandals to wear, and the jeans came down over them. Only the bottom straps of the sandals showed, along with her cute toes. She had painted her nails the same color as the plum dress she wore to the mall. The heel on her shoes had to be the same height as my boots, as we stood almost even. Usually I could tell when one of us had higher heels than the other, though Tiffany always had an inch on me.

Apparently Casey had liked the look of Tiffany's dress, as she used a bit of the same style in her selection. She had Tiffany wear a bright red, skin tight turtleneck top, with three quarter sleeves and cropped to show her navel. Over that top, she had a white vest type jacket. It came down past the red top, but with it open, her navel was still proudly on display. I started to wonder if maybe we were dressed a little beyond our age, when Casey broke the silence.

"Okay! Here's how this works," Casey said. "Sometimes we put two to three models in one window, but tonight I think we'll put Tiffany in one window, and Bailey in the other."

I cringed when it finally dawned on me where we'd be. When she had said display window, she meant the ones at the front of the store. Hundreds of people would walk by tonight, looking in on us modeling 'Tweens' clothes. If anyone recognized me, my life would be over. At least we wouldn't be out in the mall handing off coupons. Casey continued to explain the arrangement to us.

"I'll give each of you a pose every ten minutes," Casey said. "The poses won't be that complicated, and should be fairly easy to hold for ten minutes." She looked us both over. "Don't strain yourself to keep the poses, but try to stay as still as possible. I know it won't be perfect, but pretend you're both mannequins." She waved us to follow her to the front of the store. "After three poses, each ten minutes long, I'll give you a short break to change outfits, and then you'll go another thirty minutes."

"I think we can handle that," Tiffany said.

"It's not really hard," Casey said. "Have fun with it, but I remind you again… don't do anything to tarnish the 'Tween name, or the products."

"We wouldn't think of such a thing," I said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Casey said. "We'll do two of these shifts. So you should both be out of here before nine." She looked back at us. "Should give you some time to run around the mall before everything closes." She pointed to the phone. "If you need to call your ride or your parents to tell them, just dial one first."

"I'm sure our ride will probably walk by us at some point," Tiffany said. "She's in the mall somewhere."

"Okay, good," Casey said. "Any questions?"

We both shook our heads, and Casey studied us for a moment. She then went on to give us our first poses. Tiffany was asked to stand with her legs slightly apart, and her arms bent at the elbows behind her. Casey instructed her to put her hands palm out in the back pockets of her jeans, and keep her chin up. I had to admit, it was pretty simple, and basically made the clothes the focus.

My pose wasn't all that complicated either. Casey had me stand with my legs slightly apart, with my right fist on my waist. She had me put my other hand up, holding the button of the top, like I had just unbuttoned it. It wasn't too bad, and I could actually hold onto the shirt a bit if I wanted to rest my dangling arm. I also had to keep my chin up, but she had me look slightly to the right. Satisfied at the poses, Casey had us go to our respective windows.

It actually wasn't too hard to stay still either. Though we had a few people stop and try to get us to move, more than that simply walked by without notice. Some kids, younger than us, had to stop and see if we were real or fake. I stuck my tongue out at one little girl, and she broke into a huge smile. Her mother dragged her away, as the little girl tugged at her; begging her to look back at me.

Apparently time went faster than I thought, as Casey stepped into the window on Tiffany's side to give her a new pose. The new pose for Tiffany didn't have much variance. Casey had her turn her feet out more, while keeping her left hand in her back pocket. The only noticeable change happened to be her other arm. She was instructed to put her arm straight out to the side, and bend her elbow so her hand came back to her head. Then Casey had her turn her head to the right, and look down a bit.

My pose also changed very slightly. Casey came over, and the first thing she did was ask me to turn my left foot completely out to the side. Then she kicked the back of my heel gently until my knee was slightly bent to compensate. I noticed this rolled my hip out more on my right side, raising my bottom a bit. For some reason she found it easier to just move me, than instruct me.

Casey pulled my left arm down, and across my belly. She pulled a bit of my camisole up and had me hold it between my thumb and first two fingers. Then she played with my hand a bit until my pinky was sticking straight out. She then rearranged my other arm to where it was straight down at my side, with my elbow bent to where my hand reached up to my face. Then she had me look straight ahead, but slightly tilt my cheek onto the back of my hand.

"Perfect!" Casey said. "You two are naturals. With you two modeling and my sister handing out coupons, I bet our foot traffic shoots up about seventy five percent tonight."

"I'm actually enjoying this," I said.

"Well I'm glad!" Casey said. "If you want, I can put your names in to do it again some time. Just leave your numbers with me before you leave."

"Really?"

"Sure!" Casey said. "You both are nice girls. I'd love to have you back."

A subtle smile spread across my face as Casey left the window. She actually thought we were both girls. Tiffany hadn't said a word to the contrary, as she knew this upset me. Jillian didn't know my real secret. Our secret to her was us being lesbians. If she knew my other secret she'd probably blow a gasket. She seemed like the type to really get upset over such things.

I had unknowingly drawn a bit of attention to myself with my smile. Several young boys, most probably older than me, stood to gawk. Apparently it was common knowledge, by now, that 'Tweens used real people to model for them on occasion. While I wasn't thrilled about drawing this much attention, I felt a bit of satisfaction in being pretty enough to cause boys to stop and stare.

I still didn't like boys, at least not in any regard to a relationship. Nathan happened to be the only one I ever got close to, and I didn't really want to get any closer than we had. For a brief moment I thought about Nathan. I thought about how he had touched me in the park. It felt good. I couldn't deny the feelings I had around him, but even then I had reservations about acting upon them.

A few of the boys, outside the window, started to wink and blow kisses at me. I saw Tiffany getting the same treatment at the other window. Even some of the girls got in on the act. They were obviously attempting to get us to do something wrong, so we'd lose our deal with the store. I decided to take it all in stride, and I could see Tiffany chose to ignore it. There were few things that could stand between her and clothes.

Eventually Casey walked out and politely asked the group of kids to move along. Several girls walked past her toward the store entrance. A couple of them paused to study my attire, and I saw one of them turn to Casey to inquire about it. Casey waved them into the store, and they all followed her. I couldn't help but think my modeling these clothes got a girl interested enough to buy them.

I found a bit more strength in me to stay as still as possible. Maybe if I drew in some more people, Casey might let me out of here with a little more clothing. Why that was important to me at the time, I'll never know. It was probably one of those things I would have to think long and hard about later, but right now I was having fun. A few minutes later, the girls walked out of the store. They had a few bags from 'Tweens spread out amongst them. Casey came into my window shortly after.

"Whatever you did," Casey said, "keep it up. That girl just bought a copy of the entire outfit you have on."

"Wow! Really?" I asked.

"Yes," Casey said. "Boots and all! Daddy's credit cards are always welcome here." She gave me a measured look. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind your last pose being a bit more fetching."

"I'm your mannequin," I said.

Casey smiled at me. She had me stand about a foot away from the concrete wall, on the side without a window, but closer to the window. Then she pulled the crop top down off of my shoulders, to where it hung loosely around my elbows. After this she had me lean back against the wall, with my legs angled out in front of me. She had me put both arms down with my palms flat against the wall.

Before I could get comfortable with that position, Casey had me pull my outside leg up, which happened to be my left leg. She had me bend it at the knee until my foot was flat against the wall, about level with my other knee. Then she put her hand under my chin to lift it a bit higher. I found myself looking more upward than straight out.

"Just like that," Casey said. "Try to keep your back curved, and only let your shoulder blades and butt touch the wall."

I followed her directions. She smiled and nodded at me. Then she messed with my hair a little bit, before adjusting the straps of my camisole.

"Think you can hold that?"

"I'm sure I can," I said.

"Good," Casey said. "I'll go work on your friend now."

I watched her disappear through the small door of my display window and reappear a moment later in Tiffany's window. The small room started to get warm, and I didn't know if it was from the lights overhead, or from seeing Tiffany in that outfit. She never wore jeans as tight as the ones she had on. They were usually baggier, and never showed a whole lot of her form underneath. It was at that time I noticed Tiffany actually had form.

I also realized people would be getting a good glimpse of her form tonight. Casey had her turn and face the back wall of her display window; the wall with the door. As Casey had Tiffany put her left leg in line with her shoulder, she had her slant her right leg way out to the side. This put all of Tiffany's weight on her left, and her hip rolled up on that side. It also pushed her bottom up and out.

I couldn't believe it took a pair of tight jeans to realize Tiffany's bottom had filled out a bit more than I remembered. Her legs looked good too, almost as good as her sister's legs. When the hell did she get her sister's body? Had I missed some overnight change somewhere? They said in our health class that girls mature faster than boys, but I didn't expect it to be that fast. I kept watching as Casey finished the pose instructions.

Tiffany had her right hand and arm against the back wall, with her elbow pointed down. Her shoulders were back, pushing her chest forward, and creating the same arch I had in my own back. If one could be fully blossomed, or not at all, Tiffany sat somewhere in the nearly there seat. Her breasts had grown to almost a B cup, as I now knew from experience with bras, but I hadn't noticed the rest.

Tiffany let her left arm dangle down at her side. I saw her exchange a few words with Casey, and then she giggled. Before Casey left the window, Tiffany turned her head to where she was now looking back over her right shoulder. When she saw me, she gave me a big smile. She looked amazing. I knew then that I couldn't lose her to anyone else. I had to hold onto her somehow.

I returned her smile, and with it I mouthed the words "I love you" to her. Her beaming smile dropped to a more sincere one, as she mouthed the words back. For the first time since we started posing, we could actually see each other. Even though her line of sight was actually out into the mall, she mostly kept her eyes on me. It had been a long time since we had looked at each other for more than a few seconds.

The foot traffic slowed for a moment outside. It left a small gap of time for me to stew in my thoughts. I thought of my situation. Here I was modeling girl's clothing in the window at the mall. Anyone could have walked by and recognized me. Though knowing it would totally ruin my chances at a normal life, to be caught by classmates like this, I would do it all over again. It made Tiffany happy.

I honestly didn't do this for her, though her current happiness was a bonus. In reality I had done it for the clothes. Without anyone pushing me to wear them, I had decided on my own that I actually wanted them. I even wanted to earn them, especially the boots. If that meant I had to wear them, then I chose to do so. It was a small thing, but I had come to the realization that it was a significant choice in the scheme of things.

After that realization, there came another one. I didn't even have to come here tonight. Now that I saw who was responsible for the letter, and that no harm came of it, I knew things wouldn't have changed one bit. It didn't even feel like I was forced to come now. In fact, I would put it in the long list as another choice. I kept choosing the things that made me more girly.

There was a lot to be said for my friends and family putting me in certain situations, but those situations all had choices. I didn't have to play dress up with Tiffany. She never even forced it with painting my nails. I chose to let her. I chose to go shopping, to the spa, and even to the parties as a girl. Even when Tom forced me to wear panties and paint my nails, I chose to add more to it.

The choices even became easier for me to make. At least they were until I had to make a choice to deny my feelings. Rajan had even offered me the choice right there in his office. In my opinion, I chose the path of laziness. I just wanted to go back to a normal life, and felt at the time it would get people off my back. Now I wasn't so sure a boys' life was normal for me anymore.

I could have chosen the same path as Megan. What puzzled me the most, is how well she seemed adjusted. I had always guessed that nobody paid much attention to her as a boy. Maybe her former gender simply didn't register in everyone's minds when she came back to school as a girl. Though as I thought about it more, I realized there was a bit more to it than that.

Megan absolutely sucked at being a boy. She never really called attention to herself, but I could recall moments of her silently consoling herself on the playground. I remembered she remained quiet about things, but she would cry relentlessly over things like tiny cuts or bruises. Some kids were just soft, and other kids realized that in elementary school. She was lucky to change before junior high, where half the population of kids turned downright cruel.

Then again, Megan hadn't completely changed either. To the best of my knowledge, I understood her to still be a boy down there. I wondered how she got away with it; gym class, slumber parties and such. Did I miss some kind of secret door in my life, that took you to a place where all of those things don't matter anymore? The school most certainly had to know, incase of incidents, but wouldn't the other parents be a little bit turned off by the thought of a half-boy-half-girl changing with their girls in the locker room?

That's when it finally dawned on me. It wasn't technicalities like those, or even the facts about Megan. I had been blind to it since I found out about her. She wasn't "getting away with something" as my stepfather may see it, but instead she had just been herself. It came naturally to her to act like a girl, because she was naturally a girl. Her actions, thoughts, and how she was on the inside was how the world should perceive her. If she carried herself in such a manner, then those other things shouldn't matter.

"Oh my God! It's Bailey!"

My eyes got so big I thought they would pop from my skull. Disregarding the instructions to remain as still as possible, I jerked my head in the direction of the voice I had heard. My pulse quickened. My heart raced. It was a male voice, and I thought for sure it would be someone ready and willing to make my life a living hell.

"Nathan!?" I choked out.

"You owe me five bucks chump," Nathan said. "I got her to break pose."

Next to Nathan Riley stood my brother Justin. He begrudgingly dug out a wadded bill from the front right pocket of his baggy jeans. Then he slapped it in Nathan's hand. He looked at me as he shook his head, but a small smile soon came to his lips. Nathan gloated a bit over winning the bet, but then his eyes roamed over my body.

"I'm buying us drinks with this later," Nathan said, holding up the five dollar bill and waving it at me.

I signaled for them to go bug someone else, but Justin ignored me and walked toward the entrance of 'Tweens. He seemed to be greeting someone inside the store, and I soon recognized Casey's voice talking back to him. Then the door of my display window opened, and Casey waved me back into the store. She walked over to get Tiffany out of the other window, and then she came back over to where Justin stood.

"So this is your little sister?" Casey said, looking at me.

"Yeah," Justin said. "Hope she hasn't been a pain." He was definitely trying to act mature.

"Not at all," Casey said. "She's a little cutie."

"How long have you been working here?" Justin asked.

"About three months," Casey said, moving back toward the cashier counter.

"I didn't even know they opened a 'Tweens here," Justin said.

He winked at me as he started to follow Casey. The spot where he stood didn't have time to cool off, as Nathan quickly stepped into it. Tiffany moved closer to me. She glanced back and forth between Nathan and I, and then took a quick glance around the store. I felt her nudge me with her elbow.

"So this is Nathan?"

"Yes," I said. "Nathan this is my girlfriend Tiffany." I realized my slight blunder as soon as I said it.

Tiffany quickly fixed the situation by sliding her arm around mine. "Best girlfriend," she said, putting emphasis on the first word.

"Well nice to meet you Tiffany," Nathan said. A knowing look shot across his face for a brief moment, as he offered his hand to Tiffany.

"Nice to meet you finally," Tiffany said, giving up her hand for a brief handshake. "Bailey talks about you all the time."

"Not all the time," I said, giving Tiffany a scolding look. I turned back to face Nathan. "I've mentioned you a few times."

"Well," Nathan said. "I guess an honorable mention is better than nothing." He looked back at the display windows. "So you two are doing the 'Tweens modeling thing huh?"

"Uh huh," Tiffany said. "We didn't even know about it."

"I'm sure they don't advertise for it," Nathan said, turning back to face us. "They'd have little girls flocking to the store to sign up."

"That's right," Casey said, walking up behind me. "The company pretends they're paid models, but basically we seek out models by word of mouth. We usually like repeats." She looked at Tiffany, and then looked at me. "So don't go telling everybody you know."

"Not a chance," Tiffany said. "There'd be too much competition."

Casey laughed. "You better get into your other outfits," she said, putting a key in my hand. "They're in the last stall of the changing area, and I put your names on them."

"Thanks," I said.

"How long are they going to be here?" Nathan asked.

"Probably another hour at most," Casey said. "Unless they need to leave now?"

"No," Nathan said. "It's fine. I was just wondering if they had time to get a drink in the food court after."

"Really?" Tiffany asked.

"If you want," Nathan said.

"Sure!" Tiffany said. "Sounds like fun." She turned and gave me an excited look, like she had just scored me a hot date. "We better go get changed," she said to me.

"Aw don't change," Nathan said. "I like you both the way you are."

I rolled my eyes at Nathan, and took up Tiffany's hand. We walked back to the changing room in a bit of a rush. I assumed Tiffany was in a hurry to see our new outfits, as she nearly made me drop the key to the stall from her jittering. Eventually I got the key in the hole, and we both piled into the stall. Tiffany closed the door so fast I thought she had broken it. She clicked the lock shut.

Soon I realized her excitement didn't stem from putting on a new outfit. Tiffany's excitement came from another source. At the time I didn't know exactly where it came from, but I knew it had something to do with me. I soon felt the cold from the concrete wall on my back. Tiffany's hands pinned my shoulders to the wall. Her lips soon found mine, and she shoved her tongue in my mouth in a kiss that nearly suffocated me.

"I want you so bad," she purred breathlessly, as she broke the kiss.

I stood there speechless, panting for air. Tiffany pushed her lips against mine again, and started pulling the crop top from my shoulders. I had adjusted it earlier when we came back in the store, but now I found it being peeled down my arms. She pulled the top all the way down to my wrists, before she stopped. Together, with another kiss, she slid her hands under my camisole, and started squeezing the padding of my bra. She broke the kiss and gazed into my eyes.

"I wish these were real," she said, with labored breaths. "Do you know how hot that would be?"

Before I could answer, she pushed her lips against mine again. I tried to reach out and embrace her, but with the shirt around my wrists I couldn't manage much movement. She broke our kiss to peer down, and noted my dilemma. Instead of helping me get the shirt off, she simply smiled mischievously at me. Her tongue darted out and flicked over my upper lip.

"I bet you want to touch me don't you?" she asked.

"More than you know," I said.

"Oh," Tiffany said. "I know." She had a glassy, yearning gleam in her eyes. "I bet you'd love to rub your hands all over me." She glanced down. "Do you like these jeans?"

"They look fantastic on you," I said.

"I don't normally wear them this tight," Tiffany said. She looked back up into my eyes. "But I would wear them again for you."

"Really?"

"Would you wear them for me?" Tiffany asked.

"I would," I said. "Though I think you got the body for them. Your body is incred--"

For some reason this seemed to warrant another kiss from Tiffany. Though I didn't see how it was possible, she got even more passionate. Her tongue swirled around mine, causing me to chase after it. When I thought the kiss would end, her cute little nostrils flared up in a long breath, and she continued the kiss. I wasn't at all prepared for the amount of passion we shared, and I soon found myself struggling to keep up.

Tiffany pushed her body up against mine. Her hands slid out from under my camisole and over to my forearms. She kept kissing me, as she pinned my arms to the wall, and rubbed her breasts against mine. Soon I could feel my skirt sliding up, as her right thigh invaded the space between my own thighs. I felt a bit dizzy, but she kept our lips locked together. It almost seemed as if she was trying to force every last ounce of air out of me.

My skirt continued to rise. I felt the denim of her jeans rubbing against my groin. Even through the layers of nylon and cotton, I still felt vulnerable. My eyes fluttered, but for the most part, Tiffany stared intently into them. If this was a power play, she was definitely winning. As always, she had complete control over the situation when it came to our playful little escapades. This, however, didn't feel like playing.

Tiffany took another deep breath, and I knew I couldn't continue to keep up with her. My eyes grew wide, perhaps with a bit of trepidation in them, and I detected a faint glimmer in Tiffany's eyes. I felt dizzy and weak, and my body couldn't stand the strain any longer. It didn't take long for me to show signs that I had been overwhelmed. My body finally slumped down, my groin resting on her thigh. She broke the kiss with a look of great satisfaction.

"That's my girl!" Tiffany said, while taking in a labored breath.

I struggled for a moment to catch my breath. Meanwhile, Tiffany had started to pump her foot up and down. Her thigh began to grind against my groin. Whatever effort I had put into catching my breath, now seemed moot, as I found my breath soon coming in ragged bursts. Tiffany studied my face intently, as her thigh continued to cause friction against my trapped penis.

Right as I reached that point of no return, prepared to experience the same high I felt the morning after the pool party, Tiffany stopped. She jerked her knee back away from me. All of that build up she created was squelched at the last second. The disappointment I felt was somehow comforted by the look Tiffany gave me. She had a look of concern across her face, and seemed a bit sad as well.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Tiffany said. "I just didn't want to make a mess here."

"I understand," I said, pulling my top off the rest of the way. I knew her word was good, as she always made it up to me in some way.

Tiffany reached up and removed a bit of smeared lipstick from my lips, and then turned to use the mirror for her own. She then pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket, and reapplied a thin coat to her lips. After handing the lipstick to me, she looked over our outfits. I watched her in the mirror. If we weren't concerned about time, or making a mess, I would've loved for her to have taken me down to the floor right there.

"So the silver flats are yours," Tiffany said, "and that outfit there."

I looked over at my outfit. A pretty, full skirt called to me from the hook on the wall. It had layers of taffeta material, some sheer, with little silver stars embroidered into it, and some silver. They were stacked upon each other, and gathered into a four inch wide waistband. Underneath all the layers there happened to be a lining layer of black satin, with decorative lace along the hem.

I lifted the skirt from the hook, and looked at the shirt that hung behind it. It appeared to be another camisole top, black, with lacy frills along the bottom and the ruche bust. Where the material of the bust came together, a small little butterfly sat with wings spread open. The outline of it appeared to be decorated in tiny little rhinestones, adding just a hint of sparkle to the otherwise plain top.

"You have got to wear that home," Tiffany said, seemingly more excited about my outfit.

"I'm not sure if we can," I said.

Tiffany had already taken her two tops off. Beneath her layers she had on a snug, seamless sports bra. I paused to watch her for a moment, and she honestly didn't seem to mind. She gave me a mischievous smile as she reached for the button of her jeans. After a quick flip of the button, and a slow pull of the zipper, Tiffany began to shimmy the jeans down her legs. If anything, it slightly made up for her stopping our previous play with such short notice.

Her panties were plain cotton briefs, the same heather gray as her bra. She obviously didn't plan on anyone seeing them tonight. I had learned this tiny little secret of selection from being around the girls. As she got the jeans down close to her knees, she eased herself onto the bench in the changing room. Then she crossed her legs to remove her right shoe, crossed them the other way to remove the left, and slid the jeans off the rest of the way.

"I think that was one of the sexiest things I've seen you do," I said.

"Your turn," Tiffany said, adding a wink.

"Prepare to be amazed," I said, sarcastically.

I smoothed my skirt, and sat down on the opposite bench. My show wasn't nearly as sexy as Tiffany's, but I did manage to remove my boots with my legs crossed. As a little added bonus for her, I got to peel the wool socks from my nylon-covered legs. She mock fanned herself, like the temperature had shot up in the room. By the time I shimmied out of the leather skirt, Tiffany was over next to me, running her hands over my pantyhose.

"You should leave those on," she said. "They feel nice."

I started to reach for the hem of my cami, but Tiffany stopped me. She pulled the other top from the hook, and removed it from the hanger. After doing that, she helped me pull it on, and adjusted it over the white cami. Now I had the black cami over the white, with the white's lacy decoration showing from behind the lacy decoration in the black. I also noticed the black one didn't come down as far as the white one, leaving about an inch of white sticking out of the bottom.

"Cute," Tiffany said. "Skirt please."

I reached back, and brought the skirt up to Tiffany's waiting hands. Before I knew it, she was down on her knees in front of me. She held out the skirt for me to step into it, and then she slowly brought it up my legs. When she reached about mid thigh with the top of the skirt, she stopped and left it there for a moment. I felt her hands slide around to the backs of my legs.

After a moment passed, of Tiffany rubbing my legs over my pantyhose, she moved her hands up further. Soon she had them latched onto my bottom, and squeezed my buns gently. I couldn't tell if I was moving forward, or if Tiffany was, but she soon had her face near my lap. Her beautiful eyes rolled up to look into mine. Then she let her face fall forward, and gently kissed the area where my penis sat tucked beneath my hose and panties.

I trembled at Tiffany's gesture. She pulled away quickly after, and slowly pulled the skirt up the rest of the way. After adjusting my tops so they were over the wide waistband of my skirt, she fluffed the layers of the skirt out. She then reached for the silver ballet flats, and sat them next to my feet on the floor. Then she lowered herself almost to the floor, and after kissing the tops of my feet, she helped me slide the flats over them. She had never demonstrated such an obvious submissive gesture toward me before, and it shocked me.

I regained my composure, as she cleared my pantyhose of a few noticeable traces of white thread and fuzz left from the knit socks. Did she want to play the part of the maid now? When she seemed satisfied, she pulled away. I helped her back up to her feet. We shared a subtle smile, and held each other's hands for a moment. Then she leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"I better get dressed," Tiffany said, as she pulled away from me.

"Tiffany…"

I grabbed her right hand with my left before she slipped away. She turned back to me, her hair flipping around in a sudden jerk. As I gazed upon her, a lingering silence filled the air. Her face contorted from a look of sudden surprise, to a curious concerned expression. She started to say something, but I stopped her.

"You look amazing," I said.

Tiffany blushed, as her eyes became misty. "You are the sweetest person I know," she said, squeezing my hand tightly.

Tiffany slid her arms around me. She held me for a moment in a tight embrace. Before moving away, she gave me another kiss on the cheek. I swear to this day, that she briefly reached up to wipe away a tear. How could I possibly be the sweetest person she knew? There had to be other people out there willing to give her a compliment. Surely her family was sweet to her, though they had been giving her a hard time lately.

Tiffany's second outfit, in my opinion, looked rather dull at first. On her body, however, it looked really nice. She wore a cap-sleeved, black, satin shirt dress, with darting to make it appear fitted. It buttoned up from the waist to the bust, leaving the area from the bust to the collar a strict V neckline that couldn't be closed. Each breast boasted a fake pocket, which made the whole thing look rather businesslike.

To add to the uncompromisingly sensible look of the black dress, it came with a wide black leather belt to go around the midsection. At least I thought it was leather, but it could've been fake. She also had to wear the same strappy, black sandals, as Casey didn't give her any other shoes. The only thing Tiffany got to offset her all black outfit, was a cute coral colored bolero style jacket. It was crochet mesh, and had three-quarter sleeves with a slight puff on each shoulder.

"You two look lovely," Casey said, as we walked back into the store. "And it looks like you scored a couple of cute guys in the process." She smiled at us, before giving a little wink. "They said they'd wait for you down in the food court."

"That was my brother," I said, a little disgustedly.

"Well Tiffany can take Justin," Casey said, "and you can have Nathan."

"Yeah Bailey," Tiffany said, nudging me playfully with her elbow. "You can have Nathan."

I noticed she put a little more emphasis on the word have, like she was rooting for me to hook up with Nathan. After seeing Kale the other day, Nathan had actually slipped down to number two on my list. Why I secretly had a list of guys I would hook up with, if I had to choose, was beyond me. I honestly had no desire to do so. However, I still questioned whether or not Kale dressed as a girl counted as a guy. Megan's condition had completely taken her off of the guys list.

Casey gave us our new poses, and we went back to work. I posed like a blushing little school girl, crouched over slightly and holding the front of my skirt down. It got a little hard to hold over time, as I had to keep my knees and toes together, while angling my heels out. Tiffany looked like one of those moody models, with her hip thrust out to the side, and her hand resting in a fist on top of it. Her other arm dangled along her left side, making her appear agitated by others.

Ten minutes passed in a hurry, and Casey came back with props. She gave me a stool to sit on, thinking I might be a bit tired of standing. My pose became the sitting equivalent of my last one, with my knees together and my hands holding my skirt down in my lap. Casey had me sit up straight, and she moved my feet as far out as they would go. I rested them on my toes, and let my heels fall out away from my body.

When I stole a glance at Tiffany, I noticed she got a stool to sit on as well. Only she had been instructed to sit like a proper lady. Her pose was stiff and rigid, and as businesslike as her outfit. She had her legs crossed. The bottom leg, her left, slanted back under her a bit, while the right leg hung neatly over it. She sat up straight, and held a compact mirror up like she was checking her makeup.

It was during this second pose, that Jillian returned to the store. She smiled as she passed me, and then stepped over to look in on Tiffany. I don't think Tiffany noticed, but Jillian seemed to be admiring her. Jillian took an unusually long amount of time just to be looking someone over. Maybe it was the heat of the lights, or I was over-thinking it, but there seemed to be a bit of pure admiration on Jillian's part.

When it came time for our last poses of the night, I was surprised to see Jillian go into Tiffany's display window. Even more surprising was the fact that Jillian decided to pose with her. She gave Tiffany an open folder, and had her hold it up like she was looking at it. Tiffany pretended to be so engrossed with what was in the folder, that she didn't pay attention to Jillian.

Meanwhile, Jillian sat on the stool in front of Tiffany. She stooped over and held a cloth measuring tape against Tiffany. It appeared like she was measuring down Tiffany's leg from her waist. I finally got the image they were going for, as soon as they finally held it. They wanted it to appear like Tiffany was a business woman, too busy to pay attention to the girl measuring her for clothing.

I nearly fainted when Casey entered my display window with a young boy. Before I could say anything about it, Casey had me stand and took away my stool. She had me turn and face the boy. Luckily I didn't recognize him, and I hoped he didn't recognize me. He really wasn't bad to look at either, with his casual khakis and sweater look, and short, curly black hair. His brown eyes seemed sincere, but filled with a bit of trepidation.

I soon realized that Casey intended us to pose together. Apparently he had been out in the mall handing coupons away, like Jillian, and I hadn't noticed he came back a bit before her. Maybe Jillian and this boy had been modeling before we got there, and Tiffany and I replaced them. I really didn't care where he had been though. The whole of me just wanted this next block of ten minutes to be over quickly.

Casey didn't seem to notice I was a bit uncomfortable about the situation. She went ahead and posed us anyway. First she had me stand with my legs tight together. Then she instructed me to lift my right heel, and twist it out, so that my right knee was bent slightly in front of my left. Next she instructed me to hold my arms straight down, but to rest my wrists against my skirt. This left my arms angled out a bit, and she had me hold my hands perpendicular to the floor, with my palms facing down.

For the last part of the pose, Casey had me look at an empty box the boy held. She told me to hold a surprised look, like Dylan had bought me a present. At least I knew the boy's name now, and I didn't recognize it at all. Casey tilted my shoulders, right side down and left side up, shifting my weight to my right side. This caused me to put most of my weight on just the toes of my right side, instead of the more stable left side; where my foot was solidly flat on the floor.

I felt unsure and vulnerable. A strong wind could have knocked me over. If I toppled, I would hopefully be caught by Dylan, before I crashed to the floor. However, I really didn't want to fall into some strange boy's arms. Casey approved of my pose, however, and after giving Dylan a few instructions, she left the display window. I glanced up at Dylan.

"I'm their cousin by the way," Dylan said. "They usually rope me into this, 'cause no guy is willing to do it."

"Okay," I said, keeping it simple.

I really didn't want to talk to him. It felt strange having a boy stare at me for any length of time, let alone a whole ten minute block. Not to mention the fact that he had solidified yet another aspect of my girlishness in my own mind. He was probably right too. No guy was willing to do what I was doing. Therefore, I concluded that I wasn't much of a guy to be doing it.

"I just thought you should know," Dylan said. "It's not like my twisted way to pick up chicks."

"I don't think we're supposed to be talking," I said, in a near whisper.

"I do all the time," Dylan said.

"Well it's not like they're going to send you packing," I said. "I'm actually taking this seriously."

"Oh I am too," Dylan said. "Believe me. If I goof around, my parents will hear about it. I'll be grounded for like a month, if I do something stupid."

"Then stop talking," I said, looking back at the box.

"I can't help it," Dylan said. "I think you're pretty."

My eyes shot up to meet his. "What?"

"Usually I'm in a window by myself," Dylan said, "or handing out coupons." His eyes moved over my body. "You're like the cutest girl I've gotten to model with though."

"Thanks," I said, "but I can see why."

"Why what?"

"Why you're by yourself," I said. "You talk too much, and it's distracting."

"I'm sorry," Dylan said, for the first time looking sincere. "I'm just kind of nervous around pretty girls, and I start talking."

"Well I really want some of these clothes," I said, having to reel from the shock of the statement actually being true. "So don't blow it for me."

"Oh I won't," Dylan said. "You can have my clothes too, if you'd like."

"What!?" I glanced back up at him.

"I meant…" Dylan looked down in shame. "That sounded so wrong. I meant you could have my limit for yourself."

"That's really nice of you," I said, "but I can't accept that."

"No really," Dylan said. "I don't even like the clothes here. Most of the time it just goes to waste."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You did work for it."

"Like I said," Dylan said. "I'm being forced to do this. If you don't take it, Jillian will."

"What about my girlfriend?" I asked, instantly wanting the question back to reword it.

"Sure," Dylan said. "You two can split it."

"I don't know," I said.

"Please?" Dylan pleaded. "It's my way of saying sorry."

"I'm sorry I misjudged you," I said, as sincere as I could make it sound. "You're actually a pretty nice guy. I guess I'll accept the offer." I gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Dylan said. "Just helping out two pretty girls."

I tried to ignore his comment, and went back to staring at the box. Though there was nothing but crumpled red tissue paper in it, I pretended Dylan was giving me his clothing limit in box form. A few minutes passed in silence. The crowd had dissipated outside in the mall. Only a few stragglers walked by 'Tweens, and out of those, only about ten total stopped to look inside.

"Do you want to hang out for a bit after this?" Dylan asked, piercing the silence again with his shaky voice.

"I kind of have other plans," I said.

"Oh," Dylan said. "No problem."

For some reason I felt bad about blowing him off, especially after what he had just done for me. I glanced past him at Tiffany, who seemed to be utterly ignoring me as well as Jillian. What would she have done in this situation? Would she have at least given him a shot to redeem himself? I did have other plans, so it wasn't like I was lying. Still…

"Though I see no reason why you can't join us," I said, looking at Dylan.

"Really?" he asked, perking up.

"Sure!" I said. "We're just meeting some friends in the food court."

"Ah, cool!" Dylan said. "Sounds like fun."

We went back to an awkward silence for the remainder of our ten minute pose. However, it lasted a bit longer than ten minutes by my estimate. My legs were starting to get sore, and I felt wobbly on my right side. I started to wonder how some people made a living at this. I pictured models having to stand in one pose for sculptors and painters. Silly thoughts like that usually helped me persevere most of the time, and it seemed to work this time as well.

"You two can come out now," Casey said, after opening the door of the display window.

"That was way more than ten minutes, Case," Dylan said.

"I know," Casey said. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't get up here in time." She turned to face me as she got to the other window. "You okay Bailey?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"I know it can get a little hot in there," Casey said, before waving at the other display window. "There's water in the back if you need some."

"I'm fine," I said again. "Really."

"So your name's Bailey huh?" Dylan said.

"Yes," I said. "Sorry we weren't properly introduced."

"Well nice to meet you Bailey," Dylan said, extending his hand.

I took his hand, but instantly wanted to release it. His hand felt clammy and a bit sweaty. Either he got hot from the lights, or he was really nervous. Tiffany and Jillian came out of the other display window, and walked over to us. I nodded at Tiffany for Dylan.

"This is Tiffany," I said.

"Nice to meet you too," Dylan said, shaking her hand.

"Likewise," Tiffany said.

"Stop fraternizing with the help," Jillian said, walking back into the store.

"Stop using nerdy words like you're important," Dylan said.

"I'm more important than you!" Jillian retorted.

"Guys!" Casey said. "Stop fighting." She watched Jillian storm off into the back, before turning to Dylan. "You've been at each other's throats since we left the house today. What gives?"

"She's always so bossy and arrogant," Dylan said. "Oh, and I'm giving these two my clothing limit." He turned back to me. "See you in a little bit?"

I nodded, while Tiffany gave me a strange look. Dylan walked out of the store. Apparently he came in those clothes, or he had taken them from 'Tweens on another occasion. Casey didn't say a thing about it. She watched Dylan leave, and then looked at us. Then she slowly shook her head.

"I don't know why he thinks he can just give away his limit like that," Casey said. "He knows the rules say it's void if he declines the offer."

"It's really no big deal," I said.

"No it is," Casey said. "I can't let you have his limit, but we can work something out."

Jillian came up beside her, holding two bags. "I got your things from the back," she said, offering us each a bag. "You can use the same changing room." She turned and started to walk away.

"Hey, Jillian?" Tiffany asked, waiting for her to turn around. "You want to come hang out with us at the food court?"

Jillian looked us both over, before shrugging. "I guess so."

"Guess we'll see you there then," Tiffany said.

"I'll meet you down there," Jillian said. "I have to do the count on the coupons we gave out tonight."

"Sure," Tiffany said. "No problem."

"We should be there a while," I said.

"Super," Jillian said, before turning to walk to the back.

Tiffany took my empty hand, and nearly dragged me to the changing room. I figured we were going to have another make out episode when she rushed to close the door. I shied away from Tiffany, not wanting to get caught up in the moment. Though I loved how she made me feel in those moments, I wasn't in the mood now. I knew it wouldn't culminate into something special, so I simply declined.

"What's with you and Dylan?" Tiffany asked. She turned to face me with a stunned expression.

"Nothing," I said.

"It sure didn't look like nothing," Tiffany said.

Her demeanor hadn't slipped into that of a jealous girlfriend. Come to think of it, she seldom got upset about me flirting with others, or even over my roaming eyes. One time she had looked upset over me talking about a few girls in our class who I thought were pretty. However, she didn't get mad about it. In fact, Tiffany was the one who now talked about other pretty girls in class, and she didn't mind if I chimed in. I guess it was the equivalent of a girl talking to a gay friend about boys, only we were like two lesbians talking about girls.

"He just wouldn't stop talking to me," I said.

"And?"

"And…" I said, dragging it out like she did. "Nothing."

"You are so not telling me the whole story," Tiffany said.

I chuckled. "There's no story!"

Tiffany started pulling the bolero style jacket off. "This is cute," she said. "I think I'll definitely keep this."

"It looks good on you," I said, starting to peel my own outfit off.

"So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About Dylan," Tiffany said. "What happened in there?"

"You're not going to let this go are you?"

Tiffany shook her head solemnly. She put the bolero style jacket on a hanger, and went to remove the belt around her waist. I watched her for a moment, as she balanced herself against the wall to remove one shoe. Then she balanced herself against the other wall to remove the other shoe. The method wasn't nearly as sexy as the last time. It became increasingly obvious that she wouldn't talk until I said something.

"Oh fine," I said, pulling at my top. "He wouldn't stop talking, so I told him how important the clothes were to me." I paused when Tiffany looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "To us I mean."

"No," Tiffany said. "You said they were important to you." She smiled at me. "That's fine if they are. I understand." She reached for the buttons of her dress. "But go on."

I pulled the shirt over my head, and reached for a hanger. "So I found out he's their cousin."

"Casey and Jillian's?"

"Yes," I said. "They make him help out here all the time. I don't know why they can't find someone else."

"Don't you know the deal with this place?" Tiffany asked.

"Should I?"

Tiffany laughed quietly. "Their relatives own 'Tweens," she said. "They have a huge family, and some of them moved out here from Colorado."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know that."

"Well," Tiffany said. "Casey's parents opened a store here, and Casey and Jillian help out a lot, because they're just getting started. I just didn't know Dylan was related." She shook her head. "But we're getting off track. Tell me about Dylan."

"He saw I was upset and offered his clothing limit to me," I said. "Basically it was offered to both of us."

"Well," Tiffany said. "I think you should take it." She pulled the dress off over her head. "If Casey honors it that is."

"I'd hate to take advantage of the store," I said, pulling the skirt down and stepping out of it. "I'd feel bad about it."

"Maybe you could talk Casey into letting you have something extra," Tiffany said.

"We'll see," I said.

"So that's the whole story?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes," I said. I clumsily pulled the flats from my feet. "I told you it was nothing."

"Do you like him?" Tiffany asked, while reaching into her bag for her pantyhose.

"He isn't horrible," I said.

"Think he's cute?" Tiffany asked.

"Well he's not horribly ugly," I said.

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Relax! I was just curious."

"It's no big deal," I said.

"I just thought since you told us about Nathan, that…" Her voice trailed off.

"That what?" I asked. "You think I like boys now?"

"I was just wondering if you found them attractive is all," Tiffany said.

"Well I don't," I said.

I reached into my own bag for my skirt. To be honest, I wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible. I really wasn't in a rush, but at the same time I didn't want to give Tiffany an opportunity to tease me into oblivion again. Only she didn't seem interested in that at the moment. She seemed more interested in trying to find some meaning in me asking Dylan to join us. I should've been asking her about inviting Jillian, after her comments earlier.

"Well I would be really careful about how you handle him," Tiffany said, starting the pantyhose up her left leg. "If you don't like him in that way, don't give him the wrong impression." She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. "He also doesn't know you're a boy."

"I kind of figured as much," I said. "He kept calling me a pretty girl."

Tiffany snickered. "He what?"

"He said I was pretty," I said, blushing at divulging the information.

"Yes you are," Tiffany said. "I just can't believe he would be so bold."

"I thought it was sweet," I said.

Tiffany finished putting her pantyhose on. I could take a little liberty at watching her dress, as I had most of my clothing on already. She pulled her plum colored dress from the bag, and fidgeted with it for a moment. I watched as she slipped it on over her head, and pulled her long black hair out of the neck. She paid little attention to me watching, as she made minor adjustments to how the dress sat on her.

"Sweet as it may be," Tiffany said, "he might be expecting something more, since you invited him along with us." She looked at me with concern. "You have to be careful with boys."

"Why did you invite Jillian?" I asked.

Tiffany sighed. "I really shouldn't say." She retrieved her shoes from her bag, and sat down with them.

"You know you can tell me," I said, grabbing my sweater from my own bag. "I won't say anything."

"You have to promise me you won't let this leave the room," Tiffany said.

"That bad?" I asked, pulling my sweater on. "I promise it won't."

Tiffany patted the bench next to her. I grabbed my Oxfords from my bag and sat down, remembering to smooth my skirt first. For some reason I found it harder to break from doing this, than actually doing it. Sometimes I found myself reaching behind to smooth my skirt, while I would have jeans on. Even worse were the times I happened to not be dressed as a girl. It created a bad habit of me rubbing my hand on my jeans, like I was wiping my hands off or something, just to cover it up in the eyes of other people.

Tiffany spoke in a hushed voice. "Jillian is like the worst case loner. She comes off as pushy and even bitchy at times. It takes a very long time to get to know her, from what I hear." She held out her left shoe and observed it for a moment. "Some girls say she isn't worth getting to know even after getting past all of that."

"Is there something wrong with her?" I asked.

"I think," Tiffany said, "and this is just me talking, that she's a passionate person. I don't think she realizes that trying to be the best student, or little miss prude all of the time, is actually costing her in the long run. They say she doesn't even enjoy doing normal stuff like hanging in the mall." She stooped down to slip her shoe on. "I just think she needs a friend who isn't afraid to knock her down to earth."

"And you want to try it?" I asked, laughing a bit as I slipped on my shoes.

"I don't know if I want to," Tiffany said. "I'd just like to get to know her a bit."

"Well…" I paused to lace up my shoes. "I'll help if you need me to." I sat back up to look at her. "Just help me get out of my situation with Dylan… please?"

"Okay," Tiffany said, with a slight giggle. "Just don't hold his hand tonight, or kiss him."

I furrowed my brow at Tiffany, as she started giggling uncontrollably. She really didn't make me mad, but I stood and huffed around the changing stall like she had made me mad. I started collecting the clothes I had discarded around the room, and putting them on hangers. For the shoes, I placed them neatly in the boxes. By the time Tiffany had joined me in tidying up, we heard a knock on the door of the stall.

"Occupied," Tiffany said.

"Have you two decided on what you would like?" Casey asked.

"Oh!" Tiffany unlocked the door of the stall, and let Casey enter. "I can't really decide," she said. "I like it all."

"Well I can run prices for you," Casey said. "That might help you decide."

"If it's not too much trouble," I said, handing her the key to the stall.

"We're not busy at all out front," Casey said. "Just put this all in your bags, and bring it up to the register."

"Sure! Okay," Tiffany said.

A few minutes later, Tiffany and I were up at the register with Casey. She went through the items, and gave us the sales prices on them all. The only things not on sale were the sandals Tiffany wore, and the boots I wore. Tiffany loved the sandals though, and they basically bottomed out her list when she talked Casey into letting her keep them. She ended up with the jeans, bolero jacket, sandals and Casey even let her keep the dress.

When it became my turn, I wanted to initially keep it all. I soon realized it would be way over my limit, so I had to make some tough decisions. Naturally I kept the ballet flats, as I could not get enough shoes. I decided on both tops, and the leather skirt, which left me within five dollars of my limit. Casey then surprised me, by throwing in the boots and socks to go with them. She smiled as she suggested we could share the boots.

By the time we made it out of the store, and headed for the food court, my legs did not want to carry me anymore. Tiffany appeared to be tired as well, as she leaned against the rail of the escalator for support. We got down to the bottom and walked the short distance to the food court. It seemed like everyone I knew had congregated there tonight.

The older kids; Justin, Nathan, Kate, Rebecca and Lynne were all at one table. At another table sat Dylan, along with Tawny, Megan and Vanessa. The three of them had finally come out of hiding long enough to make an appearance. I still hadn't seen Rachel that night, so I didn't know what she was up to, or little did I care. She was like Danielle in many ways; very interested in all things gossip.

"Keep some space between yourself and Dylan," Tiffany whispered in my ear. "Try to stay friendly, but don't flirt."

"Got it," I said.

"There's our two models," Nathan said, giving us a mock camera gesture.

"I can't believe you two got to do that," Rebecca said.

Kate shook her head. "They didn't even have stuff like that when we were your age."

"Yep," Lynne said. "You two are some lucky bitches."

"I'd say watch the language in front of the ladies," Tawny said, looking at her sister. "But it's a supposed lady," she held up her fingers to make quotation marks, "swearing like a sailor tonight?"

"Whatev' skank," Lynne said. "Looks like you're walking home tonight."

"Right," Tawny said, dragging out the "I" sound.

"Let her have her fun," Megan said, putting her arm around Tawny's. "We had ours tonight."

"Ooh," Kate said. "Sassy." She smiled at Megan. "I like her."

"I don't even wanna hear," Lynne said.

Tiffany and I sat down near the table with the kids around our age. I honestly didn't have to worry about Dylan, as Vanessa had decidedly chosen to flirt to oblivion with him. In any case, I had purposefully put the table between Dylan and I, but I found it was Nathan I hadn't factored into the equation. He actually switched chairs to be closer to me.

"Leaving the big kid's table?" Justin asked.

"Hey now," Nathan said. "Don't be a hater."

If I had any amount of time to get up and change seats, it was soon cut off. Tiffany had slipped her shoes off, and very bluntly put her calves across my lap. Nobody really found it out of the ordinary either, but her boldness shocked me a bit. I tentatively placed my hands upon her nylon-clad legs, and before long I started massaging them.

Kate looked over at one point and winked at me with a knowing smile. I remembered the conversation I had with her, earlier on in the week, about this sort of thing. For a little while I got lost in the sheer enjoyment of massaging Tiffany's legs. If they were as sore as mine were, this probably put her on cloud nine. I mused at this thought, as I looked at her. Tiffany's body screamed exhaustion, but her eyes had an inattentive haze about them.

In the past few months I had learned quite a few interesting things about Tiffany. Some things were huge, like her attraction to girls, and boys who looked like girls. This had put a bit of strain in our relationship, but I realized before too long, that I would never have to worry about losing her to the typical man's man. This had taken a lot of pressure off of me, in the case of trying to be a typical guy; my stepfather's version of such.

I couldn't be that type of guy. Even with a few doses of testosterone having been administered to me, I still looked every bit as scrawny as I did last year at this time. Doing extraneous labor seemed to cause two reactions in me. One reaction was that it wore me out. The other reaction was that it showed no matter what I lifted, even repeatedly, I didn't change the structure of my body. However, Tiffany seemed more content than ever when she saw those flaws in me.

Then there were other smaller things I learned about Tiffany. I learned she had a huge foot fetish. She liked people touching her feet, and she liked to touch other girls' feet. Since there were really no willing girls around for her to try it with, she had grown quite fond of playing with me. In that respect, I grew to have a fetish for it too. As my massage brought my hands closer to Tiffany's feet, I could tell that even through her tiredness, this was completely turning her on.

I secretly wished it was me in her place. Almost as if reading my mind, I felt my left foot being swept up into Nathan's lap. My eyes grew wider as I abruptly turned to face him. Everyone around us continued to fill the immediate area with senseless banter. It became all so distant, as I felt Nathan's strong hands start to knead the muscles of my calf. My eyes shut for a moment, and when I opened them again, they carried the same dazed stupor as Tiffany's eyes.

"Does that feel good?" Nathan asked, his voice quieter than the roar of our friends around us.

I nodded, unsure if I could even talk at this point. It had been almost two months since Nathan had touched my legs, and I had forgotten how good his touch felt. His hands felt so different from Tiffany's, and not just because he was a guy. The gentleness in his method was about the same, but he had this part of him that took great care in what he was doing. I couldn't quite place where the difference came in, but it felt amazing.

"I bet your legs are sore from standing in that window all night," Nathan said.

"Extremely," I said.

I didn't even care if I had an audience at this point. If Tiffany didn't mind having me massage her feet and legs in public, then I didn't care if Nathan did it for me. It may have looked odd to some people, but they could get over it. If anything, it looked like a group of friends who showed concern for one another, and that's what it was all about. Not to mention that Nathan's hands and fingers were like little magic joy bringers. I only hoped it felt this good for Tiffany.

"Why don't we just start a foot massage chain going?" Kate asked, jokingly. She had taken notice of our little scene, and sought to tease us about it.

"Put 'em up here," Justin said to Kate, while patting his thigh.

I could tell it caught Kate a bit off guard, as she turned to face my brother. "Really?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Sure!" Justin said. "Why not?"

It didn't take long at all for Kate to take my brother up on his offer. I admit I felt a twinge of jealousy when she put her socked feet up on his thigh. My brother wasted no time in getting his hands on her in any way he could. He had a crush on Kate for as long as I could remember. Her being a senior, and him a junior, made it a little harder for him to get with her. I knew if he took interest in her feet, he might have a chance. She loved the attention, and ate it up.

"Did you two have fun tonight?" Jillian asked. She had walked up behind me, and startled me a bit.

"Best time ever!" Tiffany said, answering for the both of us.

"I'm glad," Jillian said, sitting down between us. "Casey really liked you two. She said you were easy to work with."

"They were just talking about how they'd love to do it again," Nathan said, an obvious lie.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Jillian said.

The next thing I knew, Nathan had started undoing the laces of my shoe. He slowly slipped the shoe off of my foot, holding my ankle to support my leg. Out of all of us, I swore I was receiving the best treatment. Before long, Nathan set about kneading the muscles in my foot. His hands felt amazing, sliding over the nylon. He glanced at the soft carnation pink color of my toenails, and then smiled at me.

"Cute color," he said.

"Thanks," I said, with a noticeable blush.

I took my eyes off of Nathan, to look around our group of friends. Vanessa and Dylan were involved with their own quiet conversation, while Justin and Kate appeared to be flirting. Lynne jumped back and forth between flirting with young men walking by, and talking with Rebecca and Nathan. Tiffany thought I was obviously busy with Nathan, and started her own whispered conversation with Jillian. Meanwhile, Megan and Tawny were sharing what appeared to be pillow talk amongst themselves.

I closed my eyes for a moment, drifting away from all the crowd noise and chitchat around me. Nathan's hands continued to work their magic on my left foot. I secretly hoped he'd soon move to my other foot. As I thought about how good his hands would feel on the sorest of my two feet, I felt a different kind of sensation on my right leg. My eyes shot open to see a small nylon-clad foot running up and down my calf. The wearer had on black pantyhose.

My eyes ran up the leg, tracing it to the owner. To my surprise, the leg belonged to Megan. She had a mischievous look in her almond shaped eyes, and a teasing little smile upon her face. Next to her, Tawny whispered sweet little nothings in her ear. Every so often they would both giggle, but Tawny never looked where Megan's gaze fell. Did she have any idea what Megan was doing?

Megan dropped her leg from mine, and I glanced away in shock. As I peered out past the fountain, I saw two familiar people. Jason was walking with Tracy, and they were headed our way. I started to panic, but Tracy stopped walking. She pointed at our group, and Jason said something to her after looking over at us. He gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, and then walked the other way.

I sighed, and Nathan took it as a sign he was doing a good job. He concentrated in the spot where he was at, and it felt so good. It also felt good to avoid two dilemmas in one night. I had taken on the challenge of being a female model, and somehow avoided countless people who could have been in the mall that night. Yet I survived, at least for now I did. I didn't know how long I could keep this up, but for now, I was happy. Everyone around me seemed happy as well.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 3

On the following Monday, I could be found pacing the floor of one of Doctor Dinesh's offices. The afternoon sun caused light to trickle in across the plain gray carpet. It was ugly carpet, a modest office grade, and felt rough beneath me. Rajan, as I called him, asked me to wait in here, and make myself comfortable. So I hadn't replaced my shoes, and chose to walk the floor with my white ankle socks on.

This had been the longest appointment so far at his office. Surprisingly enough, I was rushed right in, as nobody seemed to be here before me. I guess gender identity disorder wasn't the most popular practice to get into. Rajan said it was a growing field, and he had sought out a growing city to set up his practice. I asked him how many cases he had here, but he brushed the question off by claiming he had a few.

When I got here, Rajan's nurse, the lovely Jennifer, had taken my measurements again. I had grown exactly one inch since my appointment in June, leaving me at five feet even. Though I couldn't place where my extra weight had registered from, I had gained a few pounds. I still felt on the runt side of my classmates weighing only ninety-seven pounds. When Jennifer had read it off to me, I mused inwardly about being one pound shy of a ninety-eight pound weakling.

Tom had brought me straight here from school, so I hadn't had a chance to change. Both Jennifer and Rajan pointed out that it was the first time they had seen me in male attire. My baggy hand-me-down jeans caught on my heels every so often, while my long-sleeved gray shirt looked like it could fit another half a person inside. Rajan seemed a bit surprised that I wore lavender bikini briefs beneath it all.

I turned away from the window and started to walk around the office. My bottom felt stiff and sore from the latest shot, having received it only a few minutes prior. Even though I shared my doubts with Rajan, about the testosterone treatments not working, he assured me that it would take more time. After another hands-on examination of my genitals, Rajan had Jennifer take my blood again for testing, and said he'd have results by the end of October.

As I wandered back behind a large leather couch, I studied the diplomas on the wall. Rajan had quite a few, mostly from the University of Nevada School of Medicine. I had learned he was a licensed psychiatrist along with a few other credentials. It put my mind slightly at ease knowing he had the papers to back up what he was doing. Though I wondered if there wasn't someone else out there more qualified. I perused the medical books on his bookcase.

"Find anything you want to check out?" Rajan asked, as he came into the office.

"I think they'd be over my head," I said, turning to see him smiling.

"Anything's possible if you apply yourself," Rajan said. "I just need a moment to look over your file. Then I'd like to talk with you for a little while."

"Okay," I said.

"You can sit, stand, lie down," Rajan said. "Whatever you feel comfortable with."

I nodded with a subtle half smile. He always said the same things. Rajan slumped down into a high-backed black leather chair behind a large dark wood desk. He busied himself for a moment with his computer, entering a few things from my chart onto it. I watched him for a moment. Over time he had become a comfortable and familiar face.

Rajan had strong masculine features. His parents had come to the United States from India before he was born, so although he had a traditional name, his slight accent seemed hardly noticeable. He actually had a deeper, more relaxing voice, like a George Clooney type. Oddly enough, he actually looked like the Indian version of Clooney, but with dark brown eyes, bushier eyebrows and thicker black hair.

"The good news is you're still healthy physically," Rajan said, as he typed away at his keyboard. "Do you stay active?"

"Does walking around the mall count?" I asked with a nervous smile.

Rajan looked up at me, and let out a slight chuckle. "Well, people do walk around the mall for exercise, but do you do that often?"

"Not really."

"I'd like to recommend you get out at least twice a week to jog or run," Rajan said. "Three times would be even better, but you can work up to that."

"I guess I could jog with Nathan," I said.

"Your brother's friend, right?"

"Yes," I said, amazed he even remembered.

"How is he?" Rajan asked.

"He's good," I said. "I got to hang out with him Friday night."

"Were you dressed?"

"Actually I was," I said. "I had an interesting night."

"Would you like to discuss it?" Rajan asked. "It's up to you."

"Well it all started Tuesday," I said. "Tiffany and I got this letter to meet someone at the mall on Friday, only the letter didn't say who it was from or anything. They hinted that they knew about my secret."

"Tiffany your girlfriend?" Rajan asked, looking at my chart.

I nodded, now realizing his memory trick was just good record keeping. "We decided to go anyway, despite the possible dangers," I said.

"Indeed," Rajan said. "You both could have been in serious danger. Did this person know about your condition?"

"At first I thought they did," I said, "but it turns out what they thought was our secret wasn't actually about my condition. She just thought she had cornered two lesbians."

"So it was a girl who gave the letter?"

"Yes," I said. "She ended up dragging us to the mall to help out her family's store." I smiled as I recalled the evening. "They have girls around our age model clothing for them, like live mannequins, and let them keep some of the clothes."

"Sounds like fun," Rajan said. "You did this all as your female persona?"

"Yes."

"And nobody was the wiser?"

"Only those who already knew," I said. "They didn't say anything though."

Rajan nodded, as his eyes fell to my chart. He scribbled on a notepad for a moment, as I stood there quietly. As he continued to write, I strolled back over to the window. I stopped in front of it and stared out. The wind seemed pretty strong that day, but it was still pretty outside. Huge puffy clouds skirted across the rich blue sky.

"How's your home life?" Rajan asked.

"Good I guess," I said.

"Is Tom still on your case?"

"He's been pretty nice to me lately," I said. "He even bought a diary for me to write my feelings in." I smiled as I recalled the small gift.

"Do you use it?"

"I wrote in it all morning Saturday," I said. "About the night before."

"Did you find it…" Rajan paused to find the right question. "Was it hard to record your thoughts and feelings, or did you find it comforting?"

"A little of both," I said, watching a young woman walk by outside. "I thought it was hard to start, but once I got going, I didn't want to stop."

"So you and Tom get along now?"

"Better than we have," I said. "I mean… everyone has arguments at times."

"Indeed," Rajan said. "I'm glad to hear you two are getting along." He paused for a moment. "How about your mother?"

"She's the same as always," I said. "Except she's been a bit busier at work."

"Does this upset you?"

"A little I guess," I said. "She's a little hard to talk to about some things."

"How so?" Rajan asked.

"She…" I watched a few passing cars. "It just feels like she always takes the female side of things. It's hard to explain."

"Take your time," Rajan said. "I'd like to hear this."

"Like for example," I blurted out, without thinking of any particular direction to take it. I thought for a moment, before coming up with something. "Say I wore something girly, and she asked why, and I responded because it's comfortable." I paused for a moment. "My mother would instantly think I felt comfortable wearing it because I'm actually a girl deep down. Yet, I could be simply wearing the clothing for comfort."

"Ah I see," Rajan said. "So she overanalyzes your choices, thinking they're always a reflection on how you feel inwardly?"

"Right," I said, having to process what he asked.

"Are there anymore examples of this behavior?"

"Well," I said. "The other night we watched some sappy Lifetime movie, and I only watched it because I thought the girl in it was cute. My mother thought we were bonding on some womanly level, or something."

I turned to face Rajan. Somehow I thought this would amuse him to the point of laughter. He simply nodded at what I said, and scribbled a few notes. I guess I had grown used to any girlish tendencies I displayed, being mocked by peers. Rajan simply listened, and wrote. I had found very few people like this, willing to listen and understand me.

"Is your brother any different around you?" Rajan asked.

"He hasn't changed much," I said. "Though he's a bit more protective."

"More so than you mentioned last time?"

"No," I said. "About the same. Just a protective older brother."

"You said a while back, that you were concerned about him turning into someone like Tom," Rajan said. "Have you seen that occur, or has he reversed course?"

"Reversed in a big way," I said. "He more closely resembles Nathan now more than anyone."

"Do you still think about Nathan?"

"Sometimes," I said, "but I never want to act on any of it."

"Are you scared of rejection?"

"Not really," I said. "I just think he was right about the timing and all. I'm a bit young still."

"Indeed," Rajan said. "You'll have plenty of time later, if you wish to pursue things of that nature." He looked up from my file. "I just asked, because he was the first person you mentioned today."

"He was?"

Rajan nodded with a smile. "You mentioned jogging with him."

"Oh…"

I stepped over in front of the couch. For a moment, I tried to remember what exactly I had said about Nathan. I hope it didn't seem like I wanted to rip his clothes off, as that was clearly not the case. Nathan was just a nice guy I thought about all the time. If anything, there was a mild attraction, but nothing major. Before I knew it, I found myself sinking into the large cushions of the couch. It actually felt more comfortable to sit, even after my shot, rather than walk around.

"It's okay to have feelings for someone," Rajan said. "Even if those feelings are completely at a level far below attraction, love, or intimacy." He paused for a brief moment. "It's healthy and normal to have stronger feelings for someone you feel can be there for you. From what I've gathered, Nathan is a good friend and an easily accessible shoulder to cry on. Not that you necessarily cry on anyone's shoulder. Just in a manner of speaking."

"Well I guess if you put it that way," I said. "I guess I do have feelings for him."

"Understandably so," Rajan said. "Nathan would probably be the type to stick around. That is if what you tell me about him is accurate."

"I've got no reason to lie about it," I said.

"I'm not saying you are," Rajan said, and quickly changed the subject. "How are you doing at school?"

"The same," I said.

"Any new friends?"

"Sort of," I said, "but it's another girl."

"Who is she?"

"The girl who gave Tiffany the letter," I said. "We sort of hung out after, but she's an eighth grader." I sighed. "She thinks I'm a girl though."

"Ah," Rajan said. "You find this upsetting?"

"Well," I said. "I don't like to lie to people, or hide this secret I have. I feel torn though, because if some people knew about it… well… it could really change things."

"I understand," Rajan said, "but it could be more harmful in the long-term to hold back on telling them."

"It seems like the more I try to be honest with people, the more people I find myself having to be honest with," I said. "It's like they just keep popping up, and I constantly have to reveal my secret to someone."

"I see," Rajan said. "In respect to that, are you still finding it difficult to bond with other boys?"

"They'd just as soon pick on me," I said, looking at my knees. "I still get called names at school."

"Have any of them done physical harm to you?" Rajan asked.

"Not really," I said. "A few push me around."

"I'm sorry that's happening," Rajan said. "How do you feel when they call you names?"

"I've learned to tune it out for the most part," I said. "I mean… it's still hurtful, but they're just words." I sighed. "It's just…"

"Take your time," Rajan said, after a long silence.

"Well when they do it around other people," I said, "sometimes those people get into it too." I looked at the window. "Nobody really comes to my defense, or stops it."

"Have you talked to the teachers, or principal?"

"That never helps. They'd just tease me more after telling on them," I said. "I figure if it just stays teasing, I can try to handle it myself."

"Do you think it would be worse if you were a girl?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "Megan seems to do okay with it."

"Megan Seong?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Do you get to talk to Megan about these things?"

"Not as much as I'd like to," I said.

Rajan sat up straighter. "I'm not allowed to discuss other cases," he said, "but if I think it will help both of you, which in this case I think it will, I feel I should offer you a little insight in regards to Megan." He paused for a moment. "Megan is deeply introverted when it comes to her condition."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"If you're wanting to know more about her," Rajan said. "I might suggest finding a long, quiet moment to talk to her about it." He looked a bit concerned about divulging as little information as he had. "A few brief talks, while surrounded by the group, won't bring much out of her I'm afraid."

I sat in silence for a moment. My mind now focused on possible ways to get Megan alone. Even our longest talks were no more than ten minutes. Rajan was right too. They were usually squeezed into the middle of a girls' night out. Normally they didn't garnish very much information about her condition either.

Of course I didn't know much about her. What had I been thinking? That wasn't any way to get the answers I was looking for. I had to find a quiet moment to share with Megan. It had to be a moment like Nathan and I had shared in the park. Damn it! Why did my mind go back to Nathan again?

"What are you thinking about?" Rajan asked.

I shifted nervously. "Honestly?"

"Preferably," Rajan said.

"I was thinking about Nathan again," I said, adding a small sigh after.

Rajan smiled. "Anything in particular?"

"I was just thinking about how he talked to me at the park," I said. "It was quiet there, and I was thinking maybe something like that to talk to Megan."

"That actually sounds nice," Rajan said. "Though I'm afraid park weather is shortly slipping away." He looked out the window.

"I hate winter," I said, not knowing why I had said it.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Just the cold," I said.

"No other particular reason?" Rajan asked.

"None that I can recall," I said.

"I thought maybe there was another reason," Rajan said. "I'm a little surprised though. Usually kids love winter. With the snowball fights and sledding."

"I was never really good at either," I said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you think stereotypical hang-ups like those keep you from having fun?" Rajan asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.

"I'm saying," Rajan said. "Do you think you have to be good at something to have fun?"

"Well it sure helps," I said.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't think anyone wants to be the loser," I said.

"Well sometimes it's not about winning," Rajan said. "You shouldn't let your physical characteristics keep you from having fun." He folded his hands together, and leaned across his desk. "I'd like to discuss your treatments a little now."

"Okay," I said.

"We took some blood today," Rajan said. "We'll do tests on that to determine changes in hormone levels, and also multiple other factors. Basically we want to see what affect the first two months of treatment has had on your body."

I nodded solemnly.

"That being said," Rajan said. "We'll keep an eye on developmental things, like growth and signs of male secondary sex characteristics." He sat back and looked at my chart. "Everything checks out for you physically. So I see no reason why treatment can't continue, but we'll wait for the blood work to come back. Then we can determine what to do with dosage and other factors."

"What if…" I choked out while finding a break in Rajan's explanation.

Rajan looked up at me. "Go on."

"What if I wanted to stop?" I asked.

"Stop treatment?" Rajan looked concerned. "I'd ask you what the reason was for the change of heart."

"I like…" I glanced at the window. "What if I wanted to stay like this for a while?"

"Are you thinking you made the wrong choice?"

My eyes became misty as I turned to look at Rajan. "I may have made my decision while only thinking about my family," I said. "The truth is, I like being able to switch back and forth." I looked at the floor. "I just thought maybe if I could stay like this as long as possible…"

"That maybe by your own volition you'd come to a sound decision?" Rajan asked.

I nodded quietly.

"Well we can certainly discuss it," Rajan said. "However, I'd like to wait for your blood work to come back."

"Really?"

"Yes," Rajan said. "I'd have to determine what changes have already occurred, and would possibly have to taper off your current treatment."

"I would like that," I said.

"If you still feel this way next time we meet," Rajan said, "I'll be more than happy to discuss options with you." He rubbed his chin. "Why don't you keep track of how you feel about it day to day in your diary? That way you can get a somewhat objective opinion on where you stand."

"Okay," I said. "Do I need to bring it with me?"

"No," Rajan said. "That's not necessary. Just look at it before you come in, and try to determine where you see yourself the majority of the time."

"I can do that," I said.

"I've already talked to Tom, and got you scheduled for another appointment November third," Rajan said. "It's the Monday after Halloween." He looked up at me with a knowing smile. "The blood work should be back from the lab well before then, but I want you to enjoy the holiday. I know this will throw off your treatment schedule, but we may change it completely by then anyhow."

Why did he have to say Halloween? I had enough to worry about. Now I would be thinking about the stupid costume Tiffany picked out to surprise me with. Her hints were as vague as possible to keep me thinking about it. I didn't even have a clue about what I was going to wear. If I couldn't figure that out, how in the world could I figure this out?

"I hope we can get everything straightened out for you Bailey," Rajan said. "Any plans for Halloween?"

I could tell he was trying to get me to leave on a bright note. "I'm going to a party with some of my friends," I said. "Nothing really big."

"Got a costume picked out?"

"Sort of," I said.

"Halloween's the best holiday to be someone or something you're not," Rajan said, standing from his desk and stepping around in front of it. "Might as well have some fun with it."

"I guess so," I said, slipping my sneakers on without untying them. "Though it's hard to figure out how to be something you're not, when you're not sure what you are to start with."

"Just have fun, and stay safe," Rajan said. "I'll see you in November Bailey."

"Thanks," I said, scooting out of the couch. "See you then."

Rajan extended his hand, and I shook it halfheartedly. He held his other hand behind me, though not touching my back, as he ushered me outside of the office. I stepped out into the small inner waiting room. They had it decorated a bit more inviting than the larger reception area out front. It actually boasted a comfortable red couch and bigger plush chairs to sit in.

Tom stood off to one side with Jennifer. Her neatly manicured hands, complete with French tipped nails, moved around in overly animated gestures. It looked like she was directing air traffic as she talked to Tom. Her head joined in, bobbing up and down along with some of her gestures. I watched the loose strands of her red hair, that weren't tied up, bounce around like gently coiled springs.

"So I would suggest more fruit and vegetables. Especially dark, leafy greens," Jennifer said. "Peaches are a favorite of mine. Milk or other low fat dairy products."

"Hey Bailey," Tom said, after noticing me come out of Rajan's office.

Jennifer spun around. "Hey sport," she said. "You all set?"

"Yes," I said, perhaps displaying, a bit too boldly, my intrigue with their conversation.

"Well you be safe for Halloween," Jennifer said. "I'll see you next month. Okay?"

I nodded to her, and watched her walk down the hall to another room. "What were you talking about?" I asked my stepfather.

"Oh," Tom said. "I asked her if there was anything we could do to help you out at home." He sighed. "Basically she just gave me the diet and exercise riot act."

"Rajan said I should start jogging," I said.

"That's not a bad idea," Tom said, while opening the door out to the reception area for me. "A little exercise never hurt anybody."

I laughed inwardly at Tom's statement. He should have tacked on "but me" to the end of it. Tom happened to be the epitome of laziness outside of work, and in general seemed very anti-exercise. My mother had several workout tapes at her disposal, but she seldom got time to use them anymore. Tom stayed away from those like they had some incurable disease attached to the casing. He deemed them "too girly to take seriously" at one point.

"I thought maybe I could jog with Nathan," I said.

"Well you can ask him," Tom said. "You hungry?" he asked, as we settled into the seat of his work truck.

"Not really," I said, pulling at the seat buckle.

Tom's truck used to be a shiny silver Ford. He never took the time to take care of it though. Sure, every so often, on a sunny day, he'd get outside and wash it. As for the most part, he kept it firmly looking like a work truck. I didn't care for the thing, as it rode rough and sounded hollow and cold inside. The silver appeared dull now, almost gray. Unfortunately, if it lasted long enough, it would be mine when I turned sixteen. Tom had already said as much, as he wanted a new truck at that time.

If I had gotten to choose, I would've chosen Tom's 1988 Chevy Caprice. It was somewhat ugly, with the box shape and copper color, but at least it wasn't this truck. However, Tom had given it to my brother, Justin, when he turned sixteen. Justin became one of the lucky juniors to actually get to drive to school. Most of his junior friends didn't have a car, so he was pretty fortunate to have even an old one.

I also couldn't turn down my own personal vehicle. Even if it was ugly, I would be able to escape in it. Maybe I could even doll it up. The interior, as well as the exterior, needed a lot of work. Once black seats had faded into a dusty dark gray, and the vinyl cracked and sometimes pinched your legs. The gun rack on the back window would definitely have to go. At least he didn't let our dog, Buckles, ride in the front anymore. Tom had made an insulated box, that fit in the bed, for him to ride in when he went hunting. So the interior did smell better after a time.

"How about a Sprite?" Tom asked. "I'm going to stop and get a cheeseburger."

"That's fine I guess," I said.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I said.

Tom looked at me for a moment. I saw his exasperated expression from the corner of my eye. He let out a frustrated sigh as he turned away. After starting the truck, and putting the gear selector in reverse, he glanced at me again. I couldn't tell if he was mad, or just upset that I wouldn't talk to him. He usually thought the worst in every situation.

"Look," Tom said. "You don't have to talk to me about your problems." He put his arm behind my shoulders as he backed out. "I just hope you're talking about them to someone." Before he pulled his arm away, he gave me a jostle, like a half-hug. "Regardless of what you might think, I actually do care about you."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just thinking about something Rajan said." I paused, not wanting to talk about it. "A sprite sounds good."

"Wanna share some fries?"

"Sure," I said, looking at him with a subtle smile.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you about Friday," Tom said. "Did you get the mall out of your system?"

"I don't think that will happen for a long time," I said. "We had fun though."

"Well that's good," Tom said. "What did you all end up doing?"

"Mostly talked," I said.

"Your mom said you brought in a shopping bag," Tom said. "I hope you didn't blow your allowance in one spot."

"Actually that was free stuff," I found myself blurting out.

"Oh…" We pulled up to a traffic light. "How'd you manage that?" he asked.

Tom seemed in a pleasant mood. I thought if he was this interested, he wouldn't be mad if I told the truth about Friday. The one thing that really pissed Tom off happened to be lying to him. Though at the same time, I really didn't want to explain my adventure to him. He just wasn't the type of person I felt comfortable talking to about it. I decided to give it a shot anyway. He knew I went out as a girl that night.

"There's a new place at the mall called 'Tweens," I said. "They sell clothes to boys and girls around my age." I studied Tom's unflinching face. "Mostly they target kids who are ten to thirteen."

"Oh I get it," Tom said, chuckling a bit. "They're between kid and teenager." He glanced at me. "Well the name makes sense now, but how you got free clothes doesn't."

We pulled out into the intersection to turn left. Apparently we were bypassing the usual after-appointment place, McDonald's, to the right. Tom got into the right lane. His intended fast food restaurant of choice became evident, as I looked at the Wendy's sign ahead. I thought I should keep from stalling as much as possible, and just let it all out like a flood.

"Once a month they pick out some kids to model their clothes, or go around handing out coupons in the mall," I said. "Tiffany and I got chosen to model, because someone saw us at the pool party." I paused, cringing and expecting him to lash out at me, but he didn't even say a word. "They don't pay, but they let us keep some of the clothes we model."

"Sounds…" Tom appeared to be mulling it over, as we turned into the Wendy's parking lot. "Like a good deal," he finally said. "I assume you stayed a girl to do it?"

"Yes," I said. "You're not mad are you?"

"Why would I be mad?"

Why would he be mad? I could think of a hundred and one reasons why he would be mad. Seeing as how Tom got pissed the first time he saw me dressed like a girl, and forced me to wear panties all summer. Why would he be mad? I could feel a bit of anger building inside of me, but I held my tongue. There was no reason to get into trouble after all of this.

"I just thought…" I said. "You know? With the summer and all."

"It's just a relapse," Tom said. "I'm sure it's nothing, really, and besides…" He glanced at me before rolling down his window to order. "I said I would let you run with this if you would see Doctor Dinesh. Sure you don't want anything else?"

I shook my head, and he turned toward the speaker. For a moment I sat and thought this over, as Tom just ordered a cheeseburger meal with a Sprite. Obviously the point of meeting a specialist was finding out which direction to take. Though Tom, along with others, could definitely give their input to the situation, I realized it was ultimately my choice. What I struggled with was the fact of not knowing which choice would be right for me in the long run.

"Did you at least have fun?" Tom asked, after pulling away from the speaker.

"I had a great time," I said. "I'd actually like to do it again."

"Well then you should," Tom said.

Our conversation was put on hold, as Tom paid for our food. He handed me the drink, and put the bag of food next to my school bag on the seat. I quickly found the straw and put it in my drink, glad to have something to sip on after all of the talking. As Tom drove away, and turned us toward home, there was an awkward silence between us. I assumed he'd have twenty more questions for me.

"Susan is working late again tonight," Tom said. "So you can make yourself a sandwich or something later, whenever you feel like eating."

"Okay," I said.

"I assume I won't be seeing you much tonight," Tom said. "I'm having some guys over for the football game."

"Oh," I said. "I'll probably just hang out in my room."

Tom chuckled. "I figured." He glanced over at me. "Don't you have some guys you can hang out with?"

"No," I said, almost as quiet as a whisper.

"What about the Stanley's kid down the street?"

"He's in the fifth grade," I said.

"Oh…" Tom said. "Too cool for him now huh?"

"We just don't have that much in common," I said.

"Well I'm sure you'll make some more friends soon enough," Tom said.

"What's Justin doing tonight?"

"He's going to Nathan's house for the game." Tom slapped the steering wheel. "Hey! Why don't you ask him to tag along?"

"I don't know," I said. "You said not to hang around Justin and his football friends."

"I said don't be roughhousing with them," Tom said. "You should ask him at least."

"I'll think about it," I said.

Think about it I did, but I never asked. After polishing off my part of the fries, I retreated to my room to finish my homework. In reality, I didn't have that much, but I made Tom think I did, so I could get some alone time. He spent most of his time getting ready for his company, and I really didn't feel like tidying up the house. They usually just left the living room trashed anyway.

In the tranquil solitude of my room, I got bored. Once I had finished my homework, there really wasn't much else to do. After running through all the usual things to do, I found myself settling down on my bed, with everything needed to paint my toenails a pretty metallic true blue. I pulled my socks off and cleaned the old polish off. Before long I had my toes in spacers, and was carefully applying the blue polish.

After a bit of mental debate, I decided to paint my fingernails too. I figured I'd be in my room the rest of the night, and nobody would see them. In fact, nobody would see me if I dressed up, but I didn't know for sure if I wanted to do that. There could be some emergency where I would have to be seen by my stepfather's company. Nail polish was one thing, but trying to explain away dressing like a girl was quite another.

I didn't even hear my brother get home. Maybe I got lost in what I was doing, or the fumes got to my head, but somehow I missed him. It wasn't until I heard him call out he was leaving, and closing the front door, that I realized he had been home. I hurried over to my window, and looked out. As I looked down, I could see my brother walking up the street toward Nathan's house.

Oddly enough there happened to be ample daylight still. I turned to look at my trusty digital clock, and it read six o'clock. The game didn't start for another two hours. Maybe he wanted to do something before it, or get away from Tom. I could understand the latter, but I still felt bad about not getting a chance to see Justin before he left. I had actually considered suffering through the football game to spend some time with him.

I continued to stare out the window for a moment. My brother disappeared from view, and my mother pulled into the driveway. She struggled with the door, finally kicking it open. Her gracefulness returned as she exited the vehicle. I don't think she noticed me watching at all. She shut the car door, and walked right up the stairs to our front door. I thought about tapping on the window and waving, but it seemed less childish to just go greet her.

"I'm home!" my mother shouted up the stairs.

"Hey!" Tom said. "You're home early."

"We got a little caught up today," my mother said. "So we decided not to stay late."

"Well Justin took off to Nathan's for the night," Tom said, "and Bailey's in his room."

"Actually I'm right here," I said, stepping out of the hallway.

"Oh good," my mother said, looking up at me. "Could you go to the…" She stopped and looked at my feet. "Oh… you don't have any shoes on."

"What is it?"

"I left a box of papers in the trunk," she said. "I can get it though."

"No," I said, hurrying down the stairs. "I'll get it."

I reached her at the bottom of the stairs, and gave her a hug. She played with my hair for a moment afterwards, while looking me over. Then she lifted my hands up. She spent a little while looking at my fingernails. Finally she lifted her head and smiled at me. I returned the smile.

"Going somewhere tonight?" she asked, gesturing at the nails.

I shook my head. "Just felt like it."

"Well I like the color," she said. She dropped my hands. "I thought maybe you were doing something with the girls to get away from the house tonight."

"I thought maybe I could go to Nathan's," I said. "Tom said it was okay."

"I don't care if you do," she said. "You'll be right down the street."

She handed me her keys. Then she stepped out of my way, and started up the stairs. I opened the front door. After a quick check to see if there were any onlookers, I scurried down the steps to my mother's car. The concrete felt cold beneath my feet. I started to regret my decision to come out barefoot.

It didn't stop me from my objective though. I reached my mother's car and unlocked the trunk. The box in her trunk wasn't as heavy as I thought it would be. It only had a few folders full of papers inside of it. I grabbed the box, shut the trunk, and quickly made it back into the house. Tom and my mother were talking when I came in.

"I'm not sure," my mother said. "I can ask."

"Well I think it would be smart to find out," Tom said.

My mother heard me come in, and stepped over to the top of the stairs. "Were you going to go over to Nathan's dressed as a girl?" she asked me. Her questioned seemed rather blunt.

I set the box down in the entryway. "I hadn't thought about it," I said. "Probably not." I started up the stairs.

"Well we don't care if you do," my mother said.

Tom stepped over next to her. "The guys are going to be here in a little more than an hour," he said. "We figured you wouldn't want them to see you dressed."

In the world of Tom's backwards speak, I knew what this really meant. It wasn't that I didn't want them to see me dressed. I didn't care as far as that went. Sure, they would give me one hell of a hard time about it. However, it wouldn't be like they'd gang up on me and beat me down in front of Tom. At least I didn't think they would.

The truth was, Tom didn't want the guys to see me dressed. I had known this since I started doing it. In fact, the first time Tom caught me dressed, he didn't want the guys at his local hardware store to see me. What hurt the most, was that he couldn't just come out and say it. He couldn't say he was embarrassed about my behavior, in front of the guys, or anyone he knew for that matter. He couldn't even say it to me.

"You wouldn't be mad if I wanted to?" I asked.

"Heavens no," my mother said.

"Just make up your mind quick," Tom said, before walking off.

My mother stood and looked at me for a moment. She and I had been in this weird dodgy state lately. We still talked about school, my doctor visits, my friends and general life. However, when it came to the subject of my girlish side, she seemed interested, but wasn't as pushy about it as before. To complicate matters, I hardly wanted to discuss it with her. In my mind, she still had helped compound the problem over the summer, and she just didn't understand why I felt like doing it sometimes.

"Why don't you take a quick shower?" she asked. "Maybe it'll help you decide."

I nodded, a bit absentmindedly, as I came to the top of the stairs. My mother turned into the kitchen without saying another word. If it had been the old way, she would have jumped at the opportunity to make me all girly for the night. I was mostly to blame for the way we were now. It was me that pushed her away. I basically told her to butt out of my life.

I dragged myself to my bedroom. The fading sun illuminated my dresser. All the glittery and sparkly feminine things I'd collected came to life on top. There wasn't any need to hide them, as I never had anyone in my room that didn't know about my other side. Since I needed permission to have anyone over anyway, I figured if I had to hide them, I'd have plenty of time to do it.

I stepped over to my dresser and opened up the second drawer from the top. After a bit of rummaging, I settled on a pair of pale pink panties covered with strawberries. As with most of my other panties, they were bikini cut. I very seldom got another style, as I had taken favor with bikini cut, but I did have a few other styles in my collection. For some reason, I found myself staring in a daze at my drawer full of feminine undergarments.

"I like those," my mother said from my doorway.

I jumped at her voice. "Mom!" I said, turning to face her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you, but it's not like you're naked." She folded her arms across her chest. "And the door was open, so you can't yell at me for not knocking."

"What do you want?" I asked, closing the drawer to my dresser.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she said. "Before you run off." She frowned. "I hardly get to see you."

"Oh…" I said, walking over to look in my closet. "What did you want to talk about?"

My mother walked over and sat on my bed. "I heard you were a little down after your appointment today," she said.

I flipped through a few shirts. "Mom…" I said, turning to face her. "Do you want a daughter?"

She sat up straight. A long silence filled the room. My mother looked like her head was about to explode, from all the conflicting thoughts I'm sure were running through her mind. Eventually, she placed her hands calmly in her lap. Her expression turned straight-faced, and her blue eyes filled with a look of concern and sincerity. She took a deep breath before answering me.

"I want you to be happy," she finally said.

I frowned at her completely unremarkable answer. "I don't know if I can be happy," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I think I want to go one way," I said, walking over closer to her, "I feel like going the other way."

"Do you feel like you're being pushed a certain way?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"Sometimes," I said, taking her hand. Soon I was sitting next to her. "It just feels like I have to be a boy, but some things in my life won't let me."

"I think we make it sound too easy to choose," she said. "Myself included." She gave me another concerned look. "There are consequences to either choice." She put her arm around my shoulders. "Being a girl would bring just as many challenges with it as being a boy. I'm not going to lie and say life would get easier for you."

"I know I wouldn't have to hide it all the time," I said.

"That's true," she said. "However, you'll find you have to hide other things."

"Like what?"

"Well you don't just change overnight," she said. "You'll be having to hide the fact that you were born male for possibly several more years." She rested her head against mine. "This could destroy relationships, and possibly bring you some undesired attention from people who don't understand your condition."

"It sounds a lot rougher than the other way," I said.

"Yes," she said, "and no. If you chose to be a boy, just because you thought it would make everyone else happy, you would be causing yourself harm. You might find yourself building up years of regret based on your decision." She kissed me gently on the top of the head. "Unless you can come to grips with either choice. Then you may realize the hardships were worth it all in the end." She kissed me again. "You just have to be strong, and steadfast in your decision."

"What if I can't?" I asked. "What if I wanted someone to choose for me?"

"Honey," she said. "Nobody can choose for you. They can throw you whichever way they want, and maybe pick where you land from time to time." She pulled me closer with a hug. "You might even feel stuck with what they decide for you. They might even break your spirit, but they can't dictate to you what's in your heart."

"But what about Tom?" I asked.

"Tom…"

"Hasn't been entirely honest with you," Tom said.

My eyes darted up to see Tom standing in my doorway.

"I guess I was just scared for you," Tom said, "or scared of something else." He looked down at the floor. "It's just that women are…" He scratched the back of his head. "They just need more protection, and I didn't know if I could provide that for you." His eyes came up to greet mine. "I thought if I could…" He sighed, dropping his hand to his thigh with a small slap. "Bailey… you be whoever you want to be."

I watched Tom leave. Confusion welled up inside of me. What the hell was he hiding? My mother continued to hold me close to her. I couldn't escape her Chanel Allure perfume as it lingered somewhere in the air beneath my nose. It had become her distinctive new scent, and wouldn't leave for years to come.

"Is Tom not telling me something?" I asked.

"I'm sure he'll tell you when he thinks the time is right," my mother said. She looked over at the clock. "Why don't you go take your shower?"

"I still haven't decided how to go tonight," I said.

"Well…" My mother helped me sit up. "Has Nathan ever seen you as a boy?"

I had to think about this for a moment. He had seen me undressed before, but I had panties on. Did I want to tell her about that, along with my breakdown at the time? Did this even count in the first place? I started to assume it didn't, as he helped me get dressed as a girl soon after. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Nathan hadn't truly seen me as a boy. I started to wonder if he even wanted to, or if I wanted him to for that matter. Slowly I shook my head.

"Why don't you let me pick something out for you?" my mother asked.

I didn't argue. Instead I nodded, removed myself from the bed, and headed for the bathroom. The warm water felt relaxing, cascading down my small body. Only the color of my nails added a splash of true femininity to my otherwise neutral physique. It was truly a wonder why I hadn't pursued the other side of the gender spectrum more seriously. Anyone looking at me at that moment could honestly say I could go either way.

In my world, bombarded almost daily with choices to make, I discovered most decisions were easy. They came natural most of the time. Sure, they were mundane choices, and not life-altering ones, but anyone taking note would see that I chose naturally feminine things. Even the shampoo, I now massaged into my wavy blonde hair, had been chosen for scent over function. Little choices like this kept me second guessing myself all of the time.

It didn't seem to bother me at the moment though. I finished my shower, patted myself dry like I had been doing since the pool party, and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. My summer tan had almost disappeared, but I subconsciously reached for a bottle of hydrating lotion. Ever since Theresa's suggestion at the spa, it had become routine to apply it to my body when possible after a shower. Since it made me and my skin feel good, and did no harm to anyone else, I kept on doing it. Though I had switched to a more neutral scent than cherry.

I thought for a moment about doing something to my hair. It just sort of sat there on my head, wet and stringy. I even thought about asking my mom to teach me how to curl it, but remembered I was short on time. Maybe she could teach me later. I decided to just dry it and brush it out, and though it didn't look special, it did get some of its body back. After messing with it a few more minutes, I brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, slipped on my panties, and sneaked out across the hall to my bedroom.

My mother's choice of outfit seemed a bit odd at first. I figured she would go all out girly with it, but quite the contrary. Most of it appeared masculine in nature, except for the plain white padded bra and tights almost the same color as my nails. The mixture of masculine and feminine attire confused me. Did she want me to choose? That would defeat the purpose of her choosing for me.

Obviously my mother wanted me to wear it all together. As I continued to look over the odd choices, my mother's intentions finally dawned on me. She had picked out an outfit that would be comfortable enough to put me in either role I wanted to be. I quickly slipped the bra on, and sat down on my bed. After pulling the tights on, I looked over the rest of the outfit.

If I didn't know any better, I would've thought the white t-shirt she picked out to be something I wore when I was eight. It looked small, and seemed pretty tight around the shoulders and bust when I finally put it on. In the top center of the t-shirt, now stretched across my fake breasts, sat a blue star. I took notice of the odd trend in the color blue, thinking it had something to do with my nail color.

Now came the odd part. While I had continued to wear panties continuously since the summer, I had never worn anything else considered feminine under my normal boy clothes. As I prepared to do it now, it felt like I was covering up a dirty secret. I held a pair of my old jeans in my hand. They looked distressed, faded, with holes worn in the knees, and the bottom hems all frayed in the back from catching the heels of my shoes.

Another issue I took with dressing like this, was how Nathan would react. I slipped on the jeans, over my tights, while reflecting on how Nathan perceived me. He never really saw me as a boy, but now he would see me pretending to be one. The jeans were a bit snug, hugging at my thighs, calves and bottom. I fastened them around my waist, and took notice of the blue tights showing through the bottom and the holes in the knees.

"Well," my mother said, stepping in my doorway. "What do you think?"

I turned toward her, still looking at my jeans. "It feels kind of weird."

"Really?" she asked. "How so?"

"It just feels like I'm covering something up," I said.

"Oh," she said. "I just thought it would be comfortable and kind of tomboyish." She leaned against the doorframe. "Besides… it's the Cowboys and Redskins tonight."

"What does that have to do with it?" I asked.

My mother's smile dropped. "Nathan is from Dallas." She paused, but could tell I was still clueless. "Dallas Cowboys?"

"Oh…" I said, finally getting it… sort of. "Is that what this is?" I asked, gesturing at the outfit.

She held back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "Honey…" she said. "If you want to get closer to Nathan, I suggest you learn a little bit about what he likes." She stepped over to my dresser, and started picking through things on top. "I thought you knew, given the nail color you picked."

"I just thought it was pretty," I said.

"Well," she said. "Blue, silver and white are the Cowboy's colors." She turned to face me. "And their logo is that blue star you're sporting."

I felt pretty stupid at that point. The whole time I had thought she picked out some odd blue grunge-based theme to go with my nails. I didn't even consider that she had picked out something casual tomboy, sporting Nathan's favorite team's colors. Not to mention that word confused me more than anything else. How could one be a tomboy without first being a girl? You had to be a girl who acted boyish in order to pull that off. Yet, my mother had assumed the girl part before the boy again.

"I just thought since you did your fingernails too," my mother said, as if reading my mind. "You felt like being a little girlish tonight."

"I really hadn't planned on going anywhere," I said, looking at my nails. I now realized her assumption at least had some merit to it.

"Well you don't have to," she said, "but I think you'd have fun."

She held up a tube of lipstick. I watched her roll the color out of the tube, and saw she chose a subtle pink color. For a moment I glanced back and forth from the lipstick to the come-on-and-do-it look across her face. I smiled, realizing it was actually what I wanted, not what she wanted. With a shrug, I invited her to apply the lipstick to my lips. Maybe I had misjudged her before, as she didn't really come off as pushy. She just wanted to see me happy, and thought this made me happy.

"There," she said, finishing up the application. "You look cute."

"What about my hair?"

My mother looked over at the clock. "There's no time to really do anything," she said. "How about…"

She stepped back over to my dresser. For a few minutes, she rummaged through my collection on top. Then she came back over to me with a smile on her face. She held up a silver scrunchie, and had me turn around. After a few seconds, she had me turning back around. In the mirror, over my dresser, I could see my hair put up in a high ponytail. Wavy strands of my dirty blonde hair exploded from the silver accessory holding the ponytail snuggly in place.

"Would you like me to show you how to curl and style your hair?" my mother asked.

"Now?"

"Not now," she said. "We don't have time. How about this weekend?"

"Sure," I said. "I've actually wanted to learn how to style it by myself."

"Well if that's the case, we can pick some styles to try from magazines."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"Well put the sweatshirt on, and wear your Keds." she said. "I'll be right back with something to cap it all off."

The sweatshirt she referred to, happened to be a tremendously oversized true blue one. With the hood up on it, I probably could've covered my head twice. It dwarfed me, feeling like a short dress, as it almost came down to my knees. My mother returned a few moments after I donned it, and had to hold back a few giggles. She held up a white hat with a blue star on the front of it.

"I can't believe how much bigger Justin is than you," she said. "We might have to start buying you your own clothes after all."

She put the hat on my head, and adjusted it so that my ponytail, along with the scrunchie, stuck out of the hole in the back. After playing with my hair for a bit, she seemed satisfied at the look. She stood and watched me for a moment, as I put on the shoes she suggested. They were plain white Keds, a pair of canvas low-tops. Though they seemed pretty basic, they were more feminine than masculine. I felt they fit the theme rather well.

"Listen," my mother said. "Your brother is spending the night over there. So I don't mind if you want to as well."

"Really?!" I asked. My eyes filled with a bit of excitement. It wasn't often I got to do things with the "cool" high school kids.

She gave me a stern look. "Just behave yourself, and keep in mind how Nathan perceives you. Even with your brother there, he could still get some ideas in his head." She slipped a house key, along with my lipstick, into the front right pocket of my jeans. "I don't care if Tom's company is still here or not. Come home if you don't feel comfortable. Okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"But most importantly," she said, "have fun!"

I shared a brief hug with her. She left the room before me, and kept Tom busy in the kitchen. I managed to slip out of the house without saying a word to him. It wasn't like I tried to avoid him. I just saw an opportunity to slip out of the house, without a judgmental assessment of my attire, and I took it. Tom had a way of bringing you down when you felt like things were going fine.

The street seemed empty. It had reached that point of the year, where all the younger kids headed inside early to avoid the chilly night. There wasn't another kid my age on my street, so I never felt concerned with being found out in my own neighborhood. My school bus skipped a whole two streets to get to the closest junior high student, and it happened to be an eighth grade girl. She probably would've been friends with me, rather than cause any problems.

Nathan's house sat where the street wrapped around a curve. I could only see the back of it from our house. It had a soft gray color. There was very little trim on the house, but what was there had a darker gray, almost green, color to it. The house happened to be a split-level ranch, like our own, which were very common in our neighborhood. Yet the front stairs of Nathan's house were steeper than most of the other houses.

It felt like I climbed a mountain to get to his front door. Through the window, to the right, I could see the television going in the front room. There were no cars in the driveway, so I assumed his parents weren't home yet. Their garage housed a small boat and his stepfather's workshop. He liked to tinker with wood, and make small things to sell on the side. If only my stepfather had something to keep him busy, maybe he wouldn't busy himself with me.

I reached for the doorbell. It felt kind of odd being here. I had never seen the inside of Nathan's house. The only reason I knew about the boat and workshop in the garage, was because it happened to be open the one time Justin brought me with him to pick up Nathan. They were on their way to the movies, and Justin was nice enough to drop me off at Tiffany's on the way. It was yet another time Nathan saw me as a girl, as I was headed to the mall with the girls. The door swung open in front of me.

"What are you selling?" Nathan asked, from the other side of the glass storm door. "Oh…" He pushed the storm door open and stood in the doorway. "Hey Bailey. I hardly recognized you."

I pulled the hood down off of my head. "It was my mom's idea," I said, a bit uncertain now about the choice in outfit.

"You look cute," Nathan said. "Sorry about before. I just had someone come by selling magazine subscriptions."

"No problem," I said.

"Though that still begs the question," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to watch the game with you and Justin," I said. "If you'll let me…"

"Oh…" Nathan said, moving out of the doorway. "Uh… sure! Come on in."

I stepped into the entryway. It wasn't split-level inside like ours, but rather continued on into the living room to the right. The ceiling in the living room was a high vaulted ceiling, with a loft, on the left side, over the bottom of a stairwell. It allowed for someone to sit up in the loft and view what was going on in the living room below. All three bedrooms were upstairs, and they had an unfinished half basement, which had been converted into a makeshift recreation room.

"I didn't mean to just invite myself," I said, "but Tom is having company over, and I felt--"

"It's really no problem," Nathan said. "I just…" He scratched the back of his head. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," I said.

"I was boiling some water for mac and cheese," Nathan said. "Not the greatest thing to eat, but--"

"Sounds good," I said, giving him a friendly smile.

Nathan closed the front door and headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," he called back to me through the living room.

"Where's my brother?"

"Huh?" Nathan poked his head back around the wall leading into the kitchen.

"Justin?" I asked, walking over to his couch. "Where is he?"

"Oh…" Nathan came back into the room. "About that…" He took a deep breath. "Your brother isn't here."

"What?" I asked, stopping myself midway from sitting down.

"He went to a concert out of town," Nathan said. "I'm covering for him."

"On a school night?!" I asked. "Is he crazy?"

"That's what I asked him," Nathan said.

"Why didn't he take you?"

"Wasn't my style of music," Nathan said. "Besides, someone obviously has to cover for him." He stepped back into the kitchen. "I mean you found out about it ten minutes after he left."

"But his car is still at home," I said.

"He went with some other guys," Nathan said. "Why don't you come in here?"

"My mom would absolutely kill him if she knew," I said, turning into the kitchen. "Then Tom would kill him again. Twice maybe!"

Nathan chuckled as he stirred the macaroni. "You're not going to tell them are you?"

"I really should," I said. "It would be the right thing to do."

"Then I cannot let you leave here alive," Nathan said, pointing a wooden spoon at me.

I smiled at him, shaking my head in the process. He turned back to the boiling pot. For a moment I watched him, studying his body. His legs were slender, yet muscular, from what I could see. I could only see his calves, as the rest of his legs disappeared underneath his baggy, silver athletic shorts. The shorts were just tight enough to showcase the top half of his nicely shaped bottom.

Up top he seemed every bit as trim. I swear he had less than five percent body fat. He wore a snug white tank top, which hugged his hard body underneath. I knew from putting my hands on him before, that his chest felt like a rock. Yet, he didn't look extremely muscular. His arms and shoulders just looked well-toned, not like some bulging oiled down body builder.

"You know I was kidding," he said over his shoulder. "You can leave if you want."

"No," I said. "I mean… I want to stay."

"Good," Nathan said.

"And I'm not going to tell on Justin," I said, "but he's going to owe me big time."

"You and me both sister," Nathan said.

"Do you always see me as a girl?" I asked.

Nathan turned to face me. "It was just an expression."

"I know that," I said. "Do you though?"

"Well," Nathan said. "Since you asked…" He looked me over. "I see a lot of girl in you."

"No boy at all?"

"Well there's some," he said. "Maybe I'm biased, because of the first time I met you." He turned back to stir the food. "It's just that I got this image in my head now. You're a girl to me, and even more so on the inside."

I eased down into a chair at the table. For a moment I watched Nathan again in silence. He clicked the stove off, and brought the macaroni to the sink to drain. I watched as he mixed the cheese into it. His arm flexing, as he stirred, looked so sexy. I thought of what it would feel like wrapped around my waist. I could imagine the perfect mix of hard and soft, strong and gentle.

"Ginger ale okay?" Nathan asked.

"Huh?" I looked up at him. "Sure. That's fine."

"My mom doesn't keep much else on hand," he said. "We try to keep it mostly healthy around here."

"It's fine," I said. "Where is your mom?"

"She's at my aunt's house until Wednesday morning," Nathan said. "My stepfather is out of town for the week on business." He brought over bowls of food for me and him. "Which is why your brother got so freaking lucky tonight." He looked at me with a smile. "I guess he wasn't the only one though."

I looked away shyly, and Nathan walked over to the refrigerator. When he came back, he had two small bottles of ginger ale in his hands. He set one down, and opened the other. After passing it along to me, he opened his own. I couldn't help but glance at him as he opened the bottles. Even the slight strain of the action caused his forearms to flex a little bit. He had nice forearms too. They were smooth, perfectly shaped, and when he flexed anything he just looked incredibly…

"Hot…" I said, in a gasped whisper.

"What?" Nathan asked, while sitting down.

"The food," I said, quickly covering. "It's a bit hot." I pulled the ginger ale up to my mouth to take a few sips; more for show than anything.

"Oh," Nathan said. "I hope you didn't burn yourself."

"No," I said. "I'm fine."

"You sure are," Nathan said.

He gave me one of those smiles that showed he thought he did something cute, but irresistible enough to let it slide. I shook my head to show it wouldn't work with me, but I smiled to show there was a possibility it could in the future. We ate in silence, neither one of us sure what to say. To be honest, the meal didn't last that long anyway. I mean, two kids with macaroni and cheese is like an auctioneer on fast forward.

Before long I was kicking my shoes off, and curling up on one side of Nathan's couch. He sat on the other side, sprawled out like an old man who just ate a large meal. We looked like polar opposites. The game hadn't come on yet, so we both appeared a bit antsy. I figured with the game on, we wouldn't have to talk much. Which was good, because I figured he would mostly want to hear about me.

Nathan hit the mute button on the pre-game show. When I looked at him, to see why, I found him looking at me. This was going to be a long night, but I decided I needed to stay now. I might have to cover for Justin as well, since Tom or my mother could call to check up on us. Plus I didn't want to go home to Tom's rowdy friends. They all gave me the creeps; kind of like Nathan was doing right now by staring at me.

"Are you comfortable?" Nathan asked.

"Yes," I said. "A little cold, but I'm comfortable."

"No," Nathan said, half smiling. "I mean… are you comfortable as you are right now?"

"You mean as a girl?"

"I mean in your own skin," Nathan said. "Are you comfortable with yourself?"

"I guess," I said. "There's room for improvements though."

Nathan gave me a curious look. "Like what?"

"I'd like to be a little taller," I said.

"How tall are we talking here?" Nathan asked. "Six feet? Seven? Eight?"

"No," I said, almost giggling at his absurdity. "A few inches at most."

"Oh, so you don't wanna be abnormally tall?"

"Not at all," I said. "What about you?"

"I don't want you to be abnormally tall either," Nathan said.

I leaned across the couch in an attempt to punch him teasingly. Instead, Nathan anticipated the small assault, and pulled me over to him. Caught off guard, I initially went into defensive mode and tried to get away. This only managed to get Nathan more into the playful mood. Before long, he had both of my wrists captured in his hands, and had spun me around to where I lay on my back across the couch.

He pulled my arms down toward my waist, and fell over me. My thighs were now trapped beneath his upper body. He shifted his lower body, and I found my head being lifted up toward his. I suddenly realized my head and shoulders were in his lap. Nathan had curled around me in some weird lovers' nest, leaving me helpless in the middle of it. Though it all felt a bit strange, I didn't exactly want to get out of that position.

I don't think Nathan had exactly planned this in any way. He acted as surprised as I did at the odd arrangement of our bodies. I didn't even recoil when he let go of my wrists. He gazed into my eyes with his own pretty chocolate browns. With the most sincere and objective feelings I could muster, I analyzed the situation. What exactly did I feel for Nathan?

"I'm sorry," he said, starting to pull his body off of mine.

My left hand wrapped around what material I could find of his tank top. I pulled him back down over me. He could hardly stay focused on me. All this time Nathan had played the big stud, knowing all the catchy lines to say in every situation, but now he couldn't even focus on me. His eyes darted around like a frightened school of fish. He didn't know how to act. Nathan Riley was actually shy in front of me.

Any other guy would have probably pounced on a girl in this situation. Granted I wasn't a girl, but was I so different from one that a guy wouldn't find my helpless situation appealing enough to jump me? Nathan knew I was a boy. Why was he so timid about this uncharted territory between us? I thought for sure he wanted this more than I did. Wait! Did I want this? His wide eyes continued to search for the reason I latched on to his shirt.

"I'm comfortable," I said, with a sly smile.

Nathan relaxed a little. I let go of his shirt with my left hand, and my right snaked under it on his left side. My fingers slid over each dip and bump of his defined muscles. How could a fourteen-year-old have such a ripped body? I could actually feel his six-pack before ever seeing it. For some reason I wanted to see it though. Nobody would ever have to know about this.

I made a more dedicated effort to push his shirt up. Finally, Nathan took over, and pulled it off over his head. He looked amazing. His chest and abdomen rippled as he brought his arms back down. I felt the weight of his body again on my thighs. If I had to be trapped by a guy, Nathan was definitely high on the list of people I'd want to trap me. He might even be number one on the list.

"You look so good," I said, running my right hand over his chest.

"Not as good as you," Nathan said.

There he was. My sexy Nathan had come back, with all the right things to say. Quite a bit of confidence had returned with him. I felt his left hand roaming beneath my sweatshirt. Soon it had slid under my t-shirt and I felt his palm and fingers caressing the bare flesh of my navel. He tickled my side with his fingertips, as they danced up my body. Almost in sync with the game on television, our little game had kicked off.

As Nathan's hand swirled around the flesh beneath my shirts, my hand continued to go up and down his chest and abdomen. My left hand had soon joined the action, and was moving up and down his right forearm. Before I knew it, he had slipped his thumb under my bra. His thumb found my right nipple, and started moving in small circles around it. At first it did nothing for me, but once I relaxed a little, it started to feel quite pleasurable.

I found myself initiating the next step. For some odd reason, I pulled his right hand toward my waist. As if watching myself from the loft overhead, I pulled my sweatshirt up, and guided Nathan's hand to the button on my jeans. I don't recall even being self-aware of the consequences, but everything fit the moment so perfectly that I didn't want to stop. My mind didn't even know if this was the next step or not, but my body went along with it anyway.

Nathan hesitated for a moment. The thumb of his left hand continued to swirl around my nipple. His fingers of the right hand danced upon the button of my jeans. He looked up at me with those sincere brown eyes, as if to question me on this decision. My upper body twitched, as his thumb on my nipple brought me to some strange new place. I nodded, and watched, as if out of body, while Nathan unfastened my jeans.

We squirmed together upon the couch. With enough patience and perseverance, Nathan managed to release the jeans' hold from around my bottom. Some more squirming followed. Eventually the jeans were pulled down past my knees, and I managed to kick them off the rest of the way. Nathan instantly became fascinated with the tights underneath. He couldn't wait to run his hands up and down my nylon-clad legs.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. Nathan's thumb went back to my nipple. His right hand roamed my legs, and then eventually moved to my groin. He managed to wedge his hand in between my thighs, and I felt the pressure of his strong hand as he began to massage my genitals beneath. I felt the pressure build and build, until I thought it would burst inside of me. Nathan kept bringing me back to that same spot, over and over.

I didn't open my eyes until the trembling stopped. Nathan reached up and gently removed my hat. As my ponytail finally came untangled from it, I found myself looking up into Nathan's eyes. He gave me the most thoughtful and sincere look. His right hand reached up and caressed my left cheek. For a second, I doubted the next part. Once that second passed, I had no more doubts. I pushed my lips to his, and we kissed. We kissed passionately for a very long time.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 4

Everything seemed so peaceful. It felt as if I were floating calmly amidst a vast ocean, yet something held me firmly in place, like an anchor. Nathan was my anchor. In a world filled with doubt and despair, he made me feel at peace. I floated freely, yet his firmness kept me from straying too far. There were storms on the horizon, but with Nathan I felt I could sail through them.

I had to admit, out of all of the people I knew, Nathan made me feel more at ease than any of them. Though I could talk to Tiffany about anything, she seemed a bit rambunctious with my condition. Nathan made it clear that my condition didn't define me. He told me once, he thought it brought more to my character, but it wasn't my entire character. What others found odd about me, Nathan found quirky or cute. I wasn't the best at sports, and yet he included me in them anyway.

Maybe Rajan had been right. Maybe I didn't have to be good at something to have fun. I obviously wasn't the best example of a girl or a boy, but I had fun being both. I especially had fun with Nathan, even more so now. Nathan's touch felt so soothing. His eyes seemed so caring. His warm embrace felt so loving. Everything about Nathan felt wonderful. This strange turn of events felt amazing, but at the same time terrifying. It felt surreal. It felt like… a dream?

"Hey," Nathan said, from a seemingly distant place. "Welcome back."

"What happened?" I managed to sheepishly squeak out.

"You fell asleep right around kickoff," Nathan said. "I asked if you were comfortable, but you were dead to the world."

"You mean we didn't…"

My eyes blinked open. As I adjusted to the strange surroundings, I slowly remembered I had come over to Nathan's house. The high vaulted ceiling of Nathan's living room greeted my stare. I quickly looked down my body. My jeans were still on. Everything seemed intact except my hat. Apparently Nathan, or even I, had taken it off to be more comfortable.

"We were talking a little bit," Nathan said. "Then you just checked out."

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I just had a long day."

"You didn't miss much," Nathan said. "The game was pretty boring, and the damn Redskins won."

"What was the score?" I asked, feigning interest.

"Twenty-one to sixteen," Nathan said. "Cowboys are having a crappy year. They probably won't even make the playoffs."

"Sorry they lost," I said.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," Nathan said.

"I guess I've just gotten used to it," I said.

"Used to apologizing?"

"Yes," I said. "I feel like I'm to blame for a lot of things lately."

"Like what?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it right now," I said.

Nathan's hand came down to rest on my head. I had been laying on the couch, my head inches away from his thigh. Soon I felt his fingers gently flex in and out of my hair. It felt relaxing, and I soon closed my eyes. A long moment of silence crept into the room. I didn't seem to mind, as that peaceful state returned to me. Had he been doing this as I slept? Did it really matter if he had?

"Still tired?" Nathan asked.

"Not really," I replied.

I pushed my head back until I could see Nathan's eyes. He wasn't looking at me, but rather staring blankly at the television screen. The late night news could be heard softly from across the room. My eyes felt heavy once again, as I relaxed back into my former state. His hand felt so warm and gentle. It felt like we were back in the park, the day he first had touched me in such a caring way.

"Your brother should be back here in an hour or so," Nathan said. "I'd offer you the couch, but I already gave it to him."

"It's okay," I said. "I should probably head home."

"No. You can stay," Nathan said. "I mean… it's not like I'm kicking you out."

"I guess I could sleep in the chair over there," I said.

"Well," Nathan said, standing from the couch. "If you're not tired, would you like to see the rest of the house?"

The moment his hand left me, I wanted it back. We had a strange relationship. It felt even more awkward to me now, as I thought we had taken it to the next level. I felt embarrassed to even ask him if anything had happened. Obviously it was safe to assume nothing had, but everything felt so strangely real. Surely Nathan would have said something. He didn't even act out of the ordinary.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position. My feet and lower legs swung over the front of the couch. Nathan busied himself by collecting my shoes and hat. He held them with his left hand, as he reached out with his right to help me from the couch. I stood, a bit wobbly, but close enough to smell his aftershave or deodorant. Whatever the fragrance happened to be, it smelled good.

Even standing close to Nathan felt awkward. If we had been intimate before, we had descended back to dodgy and uncomfortable in record time. I figured he would have kissed me. Maybe he was waiting for me to kiss him. It couldn't be that, as Nathan always took the lead in situations such as these. He definitely wouldn't have let an opportune moment for a kiss go to waste, if we were to kiss. It wasn't in his nature, or so I believed.

"Thank you," I said, almost a faint whisper.

Nathan flashed me a smile. "The downstairs isn't much," he said. "Just an unfinished boys' hangout and the garage is basically the other half." He let my hand slip from his. "I can show you the upstairs though."

"Sounds good."

Nathan and I looked at each other for an awkward lingering moment. I lowered my eyes with my head, a shy move, but it got Nathan to move again. He stepped away from me. Nathan led the way to the stairs, and I followed like a lost puppy. It seemed easier than anything to fit that role. I didn't mind letting others take the lead. Rajan had called it passive, and said it wasn't a bad trait to have, but I should be careful not to let people take advantage of it.

The tour of Nathan's house wasn't as extravagant as I had envisioned. He definitely would have no career in being a tour guide. However, he showed off the house as best he could, taking me through the upstairs. I saw the master bedroom and bath, along with the spare his mother had converted into an art studio. Then he showed me the loft, which his stepfather had made into a home office.

The main thing I noticed about the house, was everything seemed impeccably in order. Even his mother's art studio, with paint and spare canvases strewn across the room, had some kind of order to it. I figured his mother was one of those crazy clean-everyday neat freaks, who got mad if her house was out of order. That was my initial though, until I saw Nathan's room.

"And my room," Nathan said. "It shares the bathroom with the spare."

Nathan's room happened to be the most orderly out of all the rooms. While most of my friends had posters and pictures all over their walls, Nathan had a bulletin board and a mirror hanging up. Even the bulletin board seemed in order, with things to do posted neatly in a line down one side. His bed was even made. I don't think I knew a boy around my age who actually made his bed, especially not if their parents weren't home.

"What do you think?" Nathan asked, as he placed my shoes next to his door.

"It's…" I searched for a compliment, but there was only one word I could think of at the moment. "Neat?"

"Oh…" Nathan said as he shrugged. "Yeah. My parents are always running, so I help out a lot taking care of the house." He stepped over to his dresser, putting my hat on top of it. "I'm not crazy with it. I just avoid messing things up." He stared at me, assuming he had to explain more. "Less to clean up later. You know? That sort of thing."

I shook my head, letting out a laugh with my breath. "You don't need to explain. It's just I'm not used to everything…"

"Being in top order?" Nathan asked.

"Something like that," I said, smiling.

"Yeah, I got that from my father. Military man. Did you want something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "Or are you comfortable in that?"

"Actually these jeans are a bit snug," I said, "and I'm dying in this sweatshirt."

Nathan flashed me a knowing smile. "You can wear whatever," he said. "Just make yourself comfortable." He pointed toward another door. "Bathroom is there, and there's an unopened toothbrush in the left drawer." He walked over close to me.

"Where are you going?"

Nathan put both of his hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to wait up and let your brother in," he said. "I'll be back though."

"I should just stay here then?" I asked, as he brushed past me.

"I figured a bed would be more comfortable than the chair downstairs," Nathan said. He turned to look back at me. "That is if you're okay with sharing?"

All I could manage to do was nod. Nathan smiled once more, and turned to head down the stairs. I had stayed over at boys' houses before, and had never felt weird about it. This felt weird. Was it because I felt like a girl at the moment? Almost as if in slow motion, I turned my head to look at the bed. They had somehow stuffed a queen sized bed in his room, and still had room for other furniture. My own room could barely handle a twin size bed and a dresser. Nathan actually had a desk for his computer.

"Well… he said to make myself comfortable," I said to myself.

The thought of knowing how to fulfill that request eluded me. What exactly could I do to make myself or this moment comfortable? If I took clothes off, the situation would be uncomfortable. If I bundled up, I'd physically be uncomfortable. I became increasingly less "okay" with this arrangement, and for some reason all my self-doubt came creeping up on me. I stood there, frozen, unable to make myself comfortable.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked from behind me.

"I'm fine," I said, nodding to reassure myself.

"You look a little distraught," Nathan said. He watched me for a moment. "If you're not comfortable with this, I can take my parents room."

"I…" I fumbled around for something to say. "I should probably just go home."

"But you're here," Nathan said. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'm not sure about this," I said.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Nathan said. "I just…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I guess…" He dropped his hand to his side. "I promise you'll be safe. Please stay?"

I thought of Tiffany for a moment. Even though she said it would be okay if I wanted to be with a boy, I knew something like this would hurt her. I had to be diplomatic about this. It had to be treated like two friends sharing a bed, like a girl and a boy forced to share a one bed motel room. As that conjured up images of something else entirely, I shook my head. Nathan took it as a sign of disagreement, but I was prepared to counter this with something Tiffany would have said to me.

"If I stay," I said, "nothing happens that I don't want to happen."

"I'm totally fine with that," Nathan said. "In fact, the thought never crossed my mind."

"Really?" I asked, with a tinge of disappointment. My head tilted to the left, and for some reason I could feel my face forming into a definite pout.

"Well, I mean…" Nathan stammered. "Look. I'll be totally honest with you. I've thought about it, but I'd never ever take advantage of you like that."

"You've thought about it?"

"Well haven't you?" Nathan asked.

"I…" I glanced at the wall behind him. "I asked you first."

"But I just said I did," Nathan said. His smile invaded the corner of my eye, pulling my gaze back to him. "Have you?"

The doorbell rang at that very instant. Nathan and I stared at each other, his look an obvious one of disgust at the interruption. I bit my lower lip, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. This answer would take careful thought. If I revealed my feelings to him, he might take it the wrong way. I didn't want him thinking to pursue the thought of acting on our feelings tonight. It felt comfortable to just keep this friendly. I felt comfortable?

"That's your brother," Nathan said.

"Don't tell him I'm here," I said.

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you, alone," I said. "I don't want overprotective Justin on our case tonight."

"He'll find out eventually," Nathan said. "I can't keep it from him. It wouldn't be right."

"He can find out tomorrow," I said. "Just not tonight."

"Okay," Nathan said. "Just try to stay quiet until I come back then."

"Go let him in," I said, gesturing for him to hurry.

Nathan turned and stumbled down the stairs. I stepped back, and slid the door closed, leaving it open a crack. As I moved around his room, I studied his belongings. He had a nice collection of trophies, mostly from sports like basketball and baseball. Surprisingly there were no awards for football. Maybe he had just taken it up. His bookcase was filled with books, and only a few of them were typical boys' books. Most of them were actually thought-provoking.

There were a few pictures on his dresser, mostly family, but one in particular caught my eye. Amongst the pictures of his mother and father hugging on him in some form, there was a picture of a young girl. She appeared to be smiling on the outside only, as I could see in her eyes she had a lot of pain hidden within. Her raven black hair looked healthy, and fully framed her beautiful face.

I had to admit, I felt a little jealous seeing her. She could have been Nathan's cousin or someone else I didn't even know, but I found myself comparing myself to her. Obviously he cared enough about her to keep a picture. This beautiful girl must have meant something to him. Was she the reason he didn't see us together in the future? Did I honestly care if there would be an "us" in the future?

My brother's voice carried up from the living room. He boasted about how awesome the concert had been, and how he would do whatever to make up tonight to Nathan. Eventually both of their voices turned to mumbling, and I got tired of straining to hear it. I had plopped down on the foot of Nathan's bed. For some reason I now had the picture of this beautiful girl in my hands. Her soulful brown eyes stared back at me.

After a few minutes passed by, I heard footsteps on the staircase. I rushed over to put the picture back on the dresser. As the bedroom door eased open, I had managed to posture myself in a stance where I appeared to be casually perusing the pictures. My face felt a bit flushed, and I hoped Nathan didn't take notice. I tried to hide it a bit, by pretending to struggle getting the silver scrunchie out of my hair. Nathan closed the door, as I placed the scrunchie next to my hat on the dresser.

"Might have to keep it down for a bit," Nathan said, in a whisper, "but Justin's all settled down there."

"I was just looking at your pictures," I said, whispering as well.

"Ah," Nathan said. "Yeah. That's my big happy family. All three of us."

"Who's she?" I asked, pointing at the girl. I tried to make the question sound as relaxed as possible.

"Didn't I tell you about Jessie?" Nathan asked.

"I don't recall," I said.

"She's the girl I dated back in Pittsburgh," Nathan said. "I thought I told you about her."

"Oh," I said. "Now that you mention it…" I looked at the picture. "Wait! Pittsburgh?" I turned to face him. "I thought you were from Dallas."

"I am," Nathan said. "I lived in Dallas for about ten years, and Pittsburgh for almost two." He walked over to join me at his dresser. "My dad moved us all to Pittsburgh, but then my mom got custody in the divorce, and we moved halfway back, before she met my stepfather and we settled here." He looked at the picture. "My mom is still mad he made us leave Texas, but Jessie is mad I had to leave Pittsburgh."

"She's pretty," I said, a bit flippantly.

"She was about your age when that was taken," Nathan said. "I think you two would get along great. You have more in common with her than I do."

"I do?"

"You're both kind of the same," Nathan said. "You've got pretty much the same style, same attitude, same quirkiness." He looked at me with a smile. "You're both cute too."

I blushed and turned my face away from him. It felt like the room had suddenly gotten ten degrees hotter. I knew deep down that I liked Nathan, but I really had to show some restraint. There was entirely too much for me to sort out already. I didn't need another relationship on the table. Even if it was a dream earlier, I knew in reality what happened in the dream was wrong. As I turned back to face Nathan, I was prepared to tell him all of this.

"Hey Nathan!" Justin shouted from downstairs.

We both jumped.

"Nathan!" Justin shouted again. "You gotta see this! They're talking about the concert!"

"Why don't you find something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "I'll go knock your brother out with something."

As soon as Nathan left the room, I practically tore the sweatshirt off. It felt like I would burn up if I kept the stupid thing on any longer, but I withstood it for appearances. I tossed it onto the chair at Nathan's desk, hoping the small mess wouldn't send him into a rage. While I opened his dresser drawers, looking for some shirt to wear, I realized what I had on felt pretty comfortable. In fact, the only uncomfortable thing now happened to be my jeans.

I hesitated, my fingers holding the corner of material around the button loop. Would it be too weird to share Nathan's bed like this? I would be sleeping in tights and a t-shirt next to a teenage boy. Knowing his fondness for anything remotely related to hosiery, especially the body parts located within, I didn't want him to get the wrong impression. Did I trust him enough to bare the jeans?

My mind had doubts, but my heart took over and was willing to trust him. I pushed myself to pull down the jeans. They slid smoothly off of the blue tights beneath. As the jeans pooled around my nylon-clad feet, I felt a bit more comfortable; at least physically. Emotionally I was feeling like a train headed toward imminent derailment. Being around Nathan had as many advantages as it did disadvantages.

The disadvantages were obvious. I liked him, possibly too much, and he liked me. Though I didn't know to what extent his feelings ran for me, it worried me that something would eventually take us to some new level. He was also a bit older, with a little more experience in the area of relationships. I even fell for the "older guys are better" mentality by listening to my female friends swoon over high school guys. So being with him had a few disadvantages, but the positives outweighed the negatives.

Nathan was by far the nicest guy I knew. Justin had his moments, but I noticed most of them were around Nathan. Jason, Tom, and every other guy I knew, happened to be jerks most of the time. I couldn't talk to them either. They didn't understand me. It worried me sometimes that Nathan understood me far too well, but I figured it came with his personality. As I thought about my relationship with Nathan, I somehow ended up sitting on the foot of his bed.

"Your brother is wired," Nathan said quietly, as he quickly opened and closed the door. "I finally convinced him that I had to get some sleep."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Can it wait a few minutes?" Nathan asked, stepping over to the bathroom door. "I'd like to brush my teeth."

"I guess I'll join you," I said, rising to my feet.

I followed him into the bathroom, where he greeted me with my own toothbrush. I'm sure most girls would get all sentimental about such a thing, but I wasn't old enough to understand the significance. I knew from watching shows and movies it was some big step in a relationship. Then again, Nathan and I weren't in a relationship. We played a childish game of glancing at one another while the other wasn't looking in the mirror.

Eventually we finished what we had set out to do, and Nathan allowed me to have the bathroom to myself for a moment. After relieving myself and freshening up, I returned to the bedroom to see Nathan sitting on the nearest side. He looked me over, perhaps a little too deliberately. From my vantage point, he appeared to be capturing the image and locking it in his mind somewhere. I stood hesitantly at the door. The only light in the room came from the lamp next to his bed.

"You look so cute," Nathan said. "Are you comfortable?"

I nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

I bit my lower lip. "I'm a little nervous," I said. "No… I'm terrified."

"Nothing is going to happen," Nathan said. "You're perfectly safe here with me."

"I believe you," I said. "Yet I still can't get myself to move."

"Well…" Nathan stood, and walked over to me. "I'll just have to carry you."

Before I could muster a protest, or retreat away from him, Nathan had me in his arms. I squirmed out of sheer nervousness, but honestly didn't put up that much of a fight. He carried me over to his bed, and gently lowered me down onto it. For a moment he left me, walking over to retrieve a book from his bookcase. On the way back, he stopped at his dresser to pull out a rather large, yet comfortable looking long-sleeve shirt.

"It gets kind of cold up here," he said, sitting next to me on the bed. He handed me the shirt. "You might change your mind."

Nathan pushed some pillows up against his headboard. Then he propped himself up against them, and set the book in his lap. This didn't feel comfortable at all. He looked down at me, as I lie there with my head on the pillow next to him. No, nothing about this felt right. I sat up abruptly, causing Nathan to retract. For a moment I thought about leaping from the bed, but instead I turned and faced him; sitting Indian style next to him.

"I'm serious," Nathan said. "You don't have to worry about anything."

"I do though," I said. "Not necessarily about what might happen, but I don't know…" I looked down at the bed. "It just doesn't feel…" I looked up at Nathan. "This is totally new for me."

Nathan reached out and took my left hand with his right. "Which is why I'm not pushing you to do anything," he said. "I don't care if you sit here and stare at me all night. I'll sleep in the chair over there, or on the floor. I don't care about any of that. I just want you to feel safe and comfortable." He let go of my hand. "In fact, I wouldn't want us to do anything to ruin tonight. I don't even want you to think about how to act or any of that."

"But I do!" I said. "I think about it all of the time. I can't not think about it." I put my hands on his leg, which was probably a dumb move on my part. "Don't you think about it? I mean… don't you want to kiss me, or something right now?"

"Maybe I do," Nathan said. "Maybe I don't. Either way, I'm not asking to, and I don't want you to feel pressured into it. If it will ease your mind, I'll just say I don't want to kiss you."

"What?" I asked, retracting myself. "Because you don't like me?"

"Because I like you too much," Nathan said. He reached for my hand again and found it. "I respect what we have." He sighed. "You're young, and maybe a little inexperienced, and to be honest, you have a lot to figure out. The last thing you need is for some guy to be forcing another relationship, when you're juggling one already with everything else going on in your life."

Could he read minds? He basically said what I had been thinking. "So you do like me?" I asked, my eyes showing I was scared to ask the question.

"Of course!" Nathan said. "I just want you to relax. Be yourself around me."

"Be myself?"

"Act girly, tomboyish, funny, serious, goofy," Nathan said. "Whatever you are at the moment. I don't even care if you slip into being a boy around me. In fact, I've never really seen that, so it may be shocking. I just want you to be you."

Nathan let his hand slip from mine, and I felt stranded. It felt like he left me alone in the middle of an island to sort myself out. He'd gone from my anchor to marooning me. I knew once I sorted it out, I could come back to him, like a lifeboat waited for me on the shore. The only problem was, I didn't know where to begin on my own. There had always been people there to push me one way or the other. Ultimately I knew I took the choice to go either way, but I never felt this far from inspiration.

I could tell Nathan was in this for the long haul. He nonchalantly opened his book and started reading quietly to himself. Any second I thought he would give up on the book and come back to me. Sadly he did not. He was right about one thing though. It started to get a bit chilly in the room, and I ended up slipping on his oversized shirt. The softness and warmness enveloped me like a friendly hug.

I continued to sit and watch Nathan. Surely he would get tired of me staring at him. As each minute passed by, I realized I had focused more on trying to distract him, than actually reflecting on myself. Nathan had actually done me a huge favor, and I hadn't even noticed. He had given me a moment of solitude, a brief moment in the scheme of life, but an honest, undisturbed moment to discover something about myself.

My family gave me time alone at home, but usually for homework. Time with Rajan was like answering essay questions on a quiz. When I discussed my issues with Tom and my mother, they had more questions than I did. Usually they asked me if they thought my treatment was working. Not even Tiffany suggested I sit and think about the problems in my life. She wanted to distract me from them. Nathan had been the first to make me think, and had even awarded me time to do so.

"I'm Bailey," I mumbled to myself.

"Huh?" Nathan asked, looking up from his book.

"You said for me to be myself," I said. "I…" I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know what that is."

"It's not what," Nathan said. "It's who." He set the book down in his lap. "I don't think you know who you are, or at least haven't grasped the potential of who you could be."

"I'm twelve," I said. "I can't grasp algebra. How can I even begin to grasp this?"

"That's what I'm saying," Nathan said. "You're way too young for this. You should be having fun, being a kid." He tilted his head to the right as he looked at me. "In two years you're going to have enough to worry about. You're going to start down the path of shaping your future."

"I know all of that," I said.

"I'm sure you do," Nathan said. "Look… I'm not your typical jock." He gestured to the bookcase. "I've read every single one of those books at least twice. And I'm not saying that to brag about it. I'm saying most athletes make their sports their priority. I don't."

"You've read all of those?" I asked, pointing at the bookcase.

Nathan nodded.

"Twice?"

"At least twice," Nathan said. "Some I've read more."

"So why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I think you could do that too," Nathan said.

"Read books?"

"Well you could read books," Nathan said, "but no. I mean I think you're smart enough to figure out what it is you want out of life. I think with some careful consideration, you could figure out who you are, and who you want to be."

"You really do want my little brain to explode don't you?"

Nathan laughed, a bit loud by our hushed standards. "You could do it if you really wanted to," Nathan said, collecting himself. "It's just like you said though. You're twelve, and shouldn't be trying to figure this all out right now." He paused for a moment. "And I think I would miss your brain the most."

"Why did you ask me to stay tonight?"

"For this," Nathan said.

"This?"

"Talking," Nathan said. "Seeing you come alive, and not because you're surrounded by a bunch of friends. I wanted to see Bailey alone. See her come out with no persuasion."

"Now I feel like I'm here to entertain," I said.

"You're fine," Nathan said.

"Even with the awkwardness?"

"I'm awkward. You're awkward," Nathan said. "Life is awkward."

"Sometimes painfully," I said. "I was scared to death coming over here tonight."

"Because you had to watch football?" Nathan asked with a smile.

"No," I said, smiling back. "Because I'm not one of the guys." I looked down at my tights. "Obviously…"

"I'd take you over 'the guys' any day," Nathan said. "Even if you do fall asleep while we're talking."

I looked up at him, half-smiling. "Sorry about that. I get drowsy after a shot."

"Shot?" Nathan asked. "You've been drinking missy?"

"No," I said laughing. "You know? My treatments?"

"What treatments?" Nathan asked, showing a bit of concern.

"Oh," I said. "I figured Justin would've told you by now. I've been getting testosterone shots from a specialist, Doctor Dinesh. I call him Rajan." I sighed. "But I think we're going to end them soon, because they're not working anyway."

"So you want to be a boy?" Nathan asked. "How come you never told me?"

"I'm not sure about it at all anymore," I said. "Justin never mentioned it though?"

"Nah," Nathan said. "Justin and I don't really get into personal stuff like that."

"I figured half the town knew by now," I said. "I'm afraid this is all going to get out somehow."

"Does that scare you?" Nathan asked.

"Part of me," I said. "The other part would kill to have it out there in the open. Then I could just deal with things as they come, but still live my life."

"I have a question," Nathan said. "You said earlier tonight that you feel like you're to blame for a lot of things. What did you mean by that?" He paused. "I mean, if you want to tell me. If not, that's fine."

"Oh…" I glanced around Nathan's room. "I just think there are more problems at home." I stared at my fingers, the blue polish shining in the light as I moved them. "Tom is in this weird mode where he's trying to change for me. It's kind of creeping me out, but I know he's doing it because of my condition." I put my hands on my thighs. "Plus he's got this weird secretive vibe going. Like he's got some hidden past, or something."

"It's just Tom?" Nathan asked.

"I wish," I said.

I collapsed next to him, my head falling on the soft pillow. As I curled up next to Nathan, I hoped he would go back to caressing my hair with his hand. He didn't. In fact, he didn't even touch me, or let on that he was going to. I could feel his warm body so close to me, but I wanted it closer. Maybe he was waiting for me to make a move. For some reason I even tested the water, letting my nylon-clad knee rest against his leg. He didn't even flinch, or show interest.

"Justin and Tom are fighting more," I said. "I feel like I've pushed them apart, because Tom has put all of his attention into 'curing' me." I sighed. " Justin kind of got pushed to the side."

"I've noticed a lot of resentment lately from Justin," Nathan said. "I don't think you're to blame for that though. I think Justin is starting to dislike Tom's control."

"It doesn't change how I feel though," I said. "Even my mom and I are at odds. I'd like to spend more time with her, but she's working more and more at her new job." I looked down the bed between us, and very deliberately shifted my leg to rub against his. "She's talking about them sending her away on marketing campaigns now."

"That would be good for her career," Nathan said. "Not so good for you though, unless you need space."

"I don't know what I need, but Tom hates her being away so much," I said. "He also hates that I don't have any male friends, but I can't help that. I just don't have that much in common with them anymore. Plus I'm scared they'll find out about me somehow."

"Well you can't be scared about that all of your life," Nathan said. "I imagine it'll be rough, but you have to be the person you feel you are, even if your friends disagree with it."

"That's easy for you to say."

"True," Nathan said. "But I for one would support you no matter what."

"I'm afraid my parents are spending too much on this all too," I said. "I heard them talking about it all one night."

"Insurance covers a lot of it," Nathan said.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" I asked, presenting some exasperation in my voice.

"No," Nathan said, "and I'll be the first to admit it. I just don't think you should blame yourself for everything. You have enough to worry about."

"Your girlfriend was lucky to have you," I said. "The one in Pittsburgh."

"I think I was all she had," Nathan said.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him.

Nathan nodded. "She had an abusive father. He drank a lot, called her and her mother a whore in public, and would beat them around if they talked back to him."

"That's horrible," I said.

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Well the 'whore' thing stuck, and she had problems keeping friends around. Her dad would come up with disgusting stories about her around schoolmates."

"So she didn't have friends?" I asked.

"One," Nathan said, pointing at himself. "That's why it broke her heart when I moved away."

"That's so sad," I said, frowning now at Jessie's story.

"She's a nice girl too," Nathan said. "Far from what her dad said about her."

"What was she like?"

"Well you saw what she looks like," Nathan said.

"She's pretty," I said, this time with more sincerity. "Could even be a model."

"She's got the height for it," Nathan said, "but I don't think she'd do it, based on her past."

"Low self-esteem?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Nathan said. "I mean, unfortunately she did have that, but well…" He put his hand on my shoulder. "When I said you two had a lot in common, I meant genetically."

"What?" I said, a bit too loudly, as I shot up onto my knees next to him. "You mean… she was a he?"

"Technically," Nathan said. "Her condition was slightly different than yours."

"How so?"

"You want details?" Nathan asked, a bit hesitant.

"I'm curious," I said. "You don't have to tell me though."

"I'm not sure how much you want to hear," Nathan said.

"I've had sex ed.," I said "I can handle it."

"Hmmm." Nathan observed me for a moment, as if measuring my maturity level on the subject. He finally took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. "Jessie was born with underdeveloped genitalia," he said.

I nodded sincerely. "What did it look like?" I asked, quickly putting my hand to my mouth. "That's not a bad question is it?"

Nathan turned his body toward me a bit. "She was born without testicles," he said, "and her penis didn't grow much at all. It was still functional, but only about an inch or so long." He paused, seemingly reluctant to tell me the last part of it. "I still remember her smile when I told her how cute I thought it was."

My mouth stood open, more out of curiosity than shock. Though I had read definitions of various conditions in Rajan's office, I could never really put an image to it. This poor girl had been born with one of those conditions, and now I could put it with her face. Technically, as Nathan had said, Jessie was a he. So that beautiful face belonged to a boy, and he looked stunning. I started to wonder if I could ever look that good. Then I remembered Nathan had just said a penis looked cute.

"She showed it to you?" I asked.

Nathan looked a little embarrassed at where the topic was going. I realized this had to be one of the most uncomfortable things to talk about with him, but I couldn't shake it from my mind now. Being born that way sounded horrible to me, but in some weird way it infatuated me. Maybe it was because Jessie looked so beautiful, or because of Nathan's caution in explaining it all, but I actually found the topic appealing. Perhaps in some weird way, I wanted to know if Nathan was into "girls" like me.

"She did," Nathan said. "I don't know if we should be --"

"You said it was functional," I said. "Did you… well… you know?"

"I think we should get some sleep," Nathan said.

"Aw," I said. "I'd really like to know."

"I don't really feel comfortable talking about it," Nathan said. "It really wasn't all that long ago." He sighed. "It's still kind of painful right now."

"Oh," I said. "I understand." I put my hand on his thigh. "Sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," Nathan said. "I probably would've told you eventually." He placed his hand on mine. "I just see you going through some of the same things she went through. I thought maybe I could help you through it all."

"You've helped a lot," I said.

"You know you can come here any time," Nathan said. "We can hang out and talk, or whatever."

"I'd like that," I said.

Most of our conversation came in short bursts after that. It had gotten pretty late, and I soon found myself snuggled next to Nathan. Although it wasn't exactly the most romantic thing, I managed to work up enough courage to lay my head on his chest. He seemed uncomfortable at first, but then he started to read to me. Every so often we would interject a little bit of conversation, but eventually, between the poems from Byron and Keats, and the waning hours of the morning, I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning cuddled up in Nathan's arms. All night he had been like this protective barrier around me. He felt warm beneath me, as his chest rose and fell. Somehow he had managed to get the sheets around us. They were in reverse order, like he had pulled them off of the bed and wrapped us in them. The bedspread felt slick against my nylon-clad legs, as I stirred and tried to slip them out from under.

Nathan came to, at about the same time I freed myself from the covers. I felt a little guilty at having woken him, but I had a more pressing matter to attend to. Just like I felt disoriented about my surroundings for a moment, Nathan seemed to take a moment to realize why I was climbing over him. He finally assisted me, and I made it off of the bed on his side. I rushed to the bathroom and got seated on the stool not a moment too soon.

Nathan was gone from the room by the time I came out of the bathroom. I wandered around the room aimlessly, wondering if I should gather my things now, or wait. After a few minutes, that seemed like hours of debate in my head, I left the room with what I had on. I could hear my brother and Nathan talking downstairs, so I headed in the direction of the voices. The uncarpeted wooden stairs woke up what little of me was left asleep.

"No, I'm not mad," Justin said. "You could've told me though."

"I should've told you," Nathan said.

"Told you what?" I asked, stepping off of the last stair.

"About you staying here last night," Justin said, while trying to impede a yawn. He looked me over, probably to determine if anything about me seemed out of place. "Is that what you slept in?"

"Yes, I slept in this," I said. "That's all I did."

"Well I wouldn't be going around bragging about it," Justin said. "People might get the wrong impression."

"What does that mean?" I asked, becoming a bit defensive.

"He means people will tend to think the worst in this situation," Nathan said. "Even though nothing happened, people get suspicions."

"Especially nosey neighbors," Justin said. "They see a girl leaving a boy's house in the morning…" He paused. "Never mind. Why don't you just get dressed? I gotta get you home and get ready for school."

"But nothing happened…" I said.

"I know," Justin said. He let out another loud yawn.

"He knows that," Nathan said. "It's probably best to leave with him though." He sighed. "Don't need your parents wondering why you didn't come home together."

"Tom would never let that one go," Justin said, as I turned back up the stairs.

Back in Nathan's room, I took one more look around. Last night was definitely different. If anything, I learned I could be safe at Nathan's house. Even though nothing had happened between us, it felt like we connected somehow on another level. I slipped my jeans on over my tights, and stumbled around while pulling my shoes on. After exchanging Nathan's shirt for my sweatshirt, I laid his shirt neatly on the bed. Then I stepped over to the dresser to retrieve my hat.

I decided to forgo the scrunchie, and shoved it into the large pocket of my sweatshirt. I also didn't reapply my lipstick. Something told me it would be inappropriate to walk home looking anything like a girl. People might get "the wrong impression," as Justin put it. I knew exactly what he meant by it, but part of me tried to deny it. To me, last night seemed perfect. It seemed like I had taken a major step toward something, but I didn't know what. I just knew that it felt like an accomplishment of sorts.

I slapped my hat on my head, and pulled the hood up for good measure. Then I gave Nathan's room one last glance, as if to save a picture of it in my mind. While his offer to come there any time seemed like friendly banter, I knew he meant it. He was just that type of guy. I pushed myself to exit his room, and carried myself down the stairs to meet the day. How I was going to get last night out of my head was beyond me, but somehow I had to try.

"Ready?" Justin asked, as I came into the living room.

I nodded. Nathan pulled the front door open, and Justin stepped outside. As I approached the door, I felt a sharp tug at my right arm. I turned to look at Nathan, and he gave me a caring smile. Then he opened his arms, and I fell into them. His hug felt almost as warm as the rising sun. I slipped my arms around his waist, and he gave me a gentle squeeze. Before I left his house, he held me back and looked right into my eyes.

"Remember," Nathan said. "Any time, and I mean that."

There were times in my life when people said something, but I really didn't know at the time why they said it. I don't think it was for lack of intelligence, but rather lack of experience. My mother always told Justin and I there was a difference between ignorance and idiocy. I never got that until years later. She never explained it to me. I had always assumed it was just one of those things parents say because their parents said it to them.

That morning I didn't understand what Nathan was really getting at when he told me I could go to his place. In true blissful ignorance, I thanked him, shoved my hands in the giant pocket of my sweatshirt, and followed my brother home. Maybe I would get it later, when the right time came. I couldn't even keep my mind focused on one thing. Between getting home, last night, and the school day ahead, my mind darted from place to place like the squirrels running across the grass that morning.

When Justin and I rounded the corner, we saw Tom's truck was gone. Apparently he had gotten an early start to the day. Our mother's car still sat in the driveway. She liked to see us off to school when she could. It happened to be a small bit of the time we actually got to see her. At least with it just being her, there would be little chance of odd questions aimed at incriminating us. Justin probably felt relieved at not having to deal with Tom that morning.

"Man," Justin said. "I don't even have time for a shower."

"So take one after gym," I said.

"That's not until second hour," Justin said, "and contrary to what you may think, a lot of guys in high school don't shower after gym." He held his shirt up to his nose. "I smell like a bar."

"How would you know what a bar smells like?"

"Okay…" Justin said. "I guess you got me there. It doesn't take much to imagine though."

"True," I said. "Did you have fun though?"

"Oh, I had a blast," Justin said. "I know you're not a big rock fan, but all of those bands last night were kick ass."

"I don't mind rock," I said. "It's just loud stuff gives me headaches."

"I know. I know," Justin said. "It was outdoors though. It probably wouldn't have bugged you as much." He looked down at me. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you have fun?" Justin asked.

"I guess so," I said. "It was kind of cool to hang out with someone in high school."

"You do that all the time," Justin said.

"Well… yes and no," I said. "I mean, my friends' sisters are in high school, but they take off on us all the time."

"Ah," Justin said. "So they pretend they're too cool for you guys?"

"Most of the time," I said.

"Well Nathan liked hanging with you," Justin said.

"Really?!"

"Yeah," Justin said. "He thinks you're pretty cool."

"That's what he said?"

"Well," Justin said. "He said 'interesting and unique', but basically, yeah."

"Interesting and unique…" I muttered to myself. My eyes shot up to look at my brother. "Did he say anything else?"

"Wow," Justin said. "You're just like a…" He glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "You're just like a girl. Asking what a guy said about you." He chuckled. "You don't have a thing for him, do you?"

"Me?" I choked on the morning air. "I… no. I mean I like him and all… I don't have…" I gave Justin a stern look. "It's not like I'm in love, or anything."

"Just thought I'd ask," Justin said, giving me a concerned look. "No need to get all defensive."

"Why?" I asked. "Did he say something?"

"No," Justin said, but recoiled when he saw the answer seemed to upset to me. "He just said he enjoyed your conversation, and wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Oh," I said. "Well I wouldn't mind that either."

"What did you guys talk about anyway?" Justin asked.

"Oh," I said. "Just about ourselves. Learned a bit about his past. That sort of thing."

"You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Not a chance," I said, with a grin.

Justin shook his head. "Got a key on you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, reaching into my pocket.

Justin let me go up the steps first. I reached the door, and started fiddling with the key in the lock. Tom had put new locks in a few months back, and they never were right. The deadbolt stuck, and the key didn't like to go into the slot in the knob. I had to give Tom credit though. He was pretty handy with a lot of the things around the house. It just seemed he lacked the ability to get one of those things perfect.

Our mother wasn't even awake when we came in the house. I figured she must be sleeping in, so I took care not to wake her. After kicking off my shoes, and losing the hat, I made myself comfortable in my room. As I sat in my room that morning, I wrote feverishly about the night I had shared with Nathan. At one point I thought my pen would set fire to my diary. Everything I had felt, and even the dream I had, fell onto the blank pages like autumn leaves falling from a tree.

It all felt magical and wonderful. Word after word landed on the pages of that little white book. I lost all sense of time. Alarm struck when I looked up at my clock. While I was lost in my own little world, I had only left myself with ten minutes to get ready before the bus came. The diary flew from my hands, landing in the middle of my bed. My mind started contemplating all that I had to do.

I didn't have time for a shower, but I had one the night before, so I would probably be okay there. My clothes. I definitely had to change my clothes. It would be a little odd wearing what I had on to school. From my bed I leapt, yanking my sweatshirt off in the process. I stumbled out of my jeans, pulling the tights with them as I clumsily made my way to my dresser.

After pulling out a pair of ankle socks, and a fresh pair of plain white bikini briefs, I tossed them on the bed, and headed for my closet. The tight t-shirt I had on was a pain to get off. I struggled with it, finally pulling the thing off, along with my bra, over my head. Frantically I dug through my closet, pulling out a pair of my everyday jeans and a steel blue long-sleeved shirt. I tossed them onto the bed with the rest of my outfit.

It took me awhile to stumble into my fresh clothes, a lot longer than it took to take the others off. When all was said and done, I had about a minute to decide something very important. I could either brush my teeth, put on deodorant, and fix my hair, or I could take my nail polish off. In a moment of panic, I hurried into the bathroom to do all but the latter. I came back to my room with enough time to slip on my sneakers and grab my school bag before heading down the stairs.

The bus was late. I stood waiting for it, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans. Just as I was about to retreat back into the house, I saw a flash of yellow turn up my street. The bus was coming. I had serious doubts about going to school like this, but I knew if I missed the bus, my mother would be on my case. She had said before not to let my dressing interfere with school. I took this to mean that she didn't want to be driving me to school because I forgot to take some nail polish off and missed the bus.

Slowly the bus crept toward my house. I already had an empty pit in my stomach. Of course I hadn't had breakfast, but I didn't feel all that hungry. Loss of appetite was something Rajan mentioned, but I didn't think I was losing my appetite. It was nerves. I wanted to turn and run for the house. How could I even think about going to school with painted fingernails? It would be okay. I could tell people that Tiffany painted them. That had to work!

School didn't go much better than my morning. The questioning stares started about the time I got halfway down the aisle of the bus, and they didn't end anytime soon. I felt myself rushing to everything, from getting on the bus that morning to getting to class on time. For some reason I left my science book in my locker, and had to share with Tracy. She even had some questionable looks of her own when she saw my nails painted. The day got worse after third period, as news got around pretty quickly in junior high.

My tear-filled eyes locked in a stare with myself in the mirror. In the boy's restroom I found sanctity for the moment. What had been a stupid and rushed decision this morning, had turned into a nightmare for me this afternoon. How could people really be that intolerant of blue nail polish? The emo and goth boys had their nails painted black all of the time. Yet somehow true blue warranted ridicule from peers.

I didn't even see who had done it. The act had been so quick, and the shameless perpetrators didn't hang around to gloat about it. I lifted a wet paper towel to my forehead. The gash was small, but still bleeding. If I had learned one thing from this, it was not to stop your fall into a locker with your head. My left hand continued to apply pressure to my forehead, as my right hand held firmly to the side of the sink.

"Damn B! What happened to you?"

The all too familiar voice of Jason Coleman filled the otherwise empty restroom. I started to wonder if he actually planned on meeting me in here. This could easily be considered our "meeting place" if one were to view it as such. I thought it odd that he showed up at that time, after the event which had just occurred. It wasn't his voice though that called me a fag, and he definitely would be one to take credit for such an act.

"What do you want Jason?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Jason asked.

"I didn't know I was," I said, pulling the paper towel down to check the cut.

"Sure seems like it," Jason said. "Look… I'm not mad about Friday." He stepped over closer to me. "I actually did alright flying solo with Tracy."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, looking at him from the corners of my eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be there to witness it."

"I know you were there," Jason said, leaning against the wall to face me. "I'm not an idiot."

"I…" I glanced at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason folded his arms across his chest. "Look…" He glanced at the door, and then turned his focus back to me. "I saw you. Okay?" He took a long breath. "It's why I didn't come over with Tracy. I didn't wanna make you anymore uncomfortable than you already were."

"I wasn't there," I said. "Okay?"

"It's fine," Jason said. "I understand if you wanna keep it a secret. Out of respect for you, and because I like Tracy, I won't say nothing about it. After all, you are the one who got us together." He reached down and lifted up the hand I had on the sink. "You're crazy for bringing it to school though."

I yanked my hand from him. "It's not like that," I said. "I wanted to take it off, but I was going to be late for school."

"Well the real question is why you had it on in the first place," Jason said. "And your story isn't holding water with anyone, because Tiffany said she wasn't with you last night." He put his hand back up under his other arm. "You two need to collaborate a little better if you're going to pull off the old 'my girlfriend did it' story."

"Why do you care about this anyway?" I asked, venting a bit of my frustration onto him.

"Damn it B!" Jason said. "I'm trying to be a friend here." He sighed. "I know that's hard to believe with our history and all, but just trust me. Okay?"

"Why?"

"Why should you trust me?"

"No," I said. "Why do you want to be my friend?"

"I thought…" Jason looked at the door. "You know… We both have seen a little bit of each other's…" He sighed again, and looked back at me. "I'm not good with this shit."

"You like me now?" I asked.

"Sure," Jason said, confirming it with a nod. "Plus we both have a mutual friend. I thought maybe we should try to get along now."

I felt a bit torn at the moment. Since day one, Jason had been tormenting me about being a bit on the girlish side. He had pushed me around, belittled me, and made me look like an idiot in front of other students. Now he wanted us to be friends. It appeared that he was trying to make an honest effort. He did take the first step, and he seemed capable of keeping my biggest secret from other people, even if I couldn't at the moment.

"Okay," I said, with a sigh. "Friends."

I extended my hand, blue fingernails and all, toward Jason. He reached out for it. His handshake felt firm, yet gentler at the same time. I hoped he wouldn't start treating me like I was breakable. That sort of thing would get on my nerves if he did it all the time. We finished the handshake, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I felt myself being pulled away from the sink, and toward the exit.

"We better have the nurse look at that," he said.

Walking out of the restroom with another guy's arm around my shoulder, didn't help my standing in the social department. Girls and boys alike stared at me, conjuring up who knows what in their minds. Considering the nail polish, and the fact that I had been crying a bit, they all probably thought the same as the boys who had pushed me into the locker. Though nobody approached me now. They were probably intimidated by Jason.

It felt awkward roaming the halls with Jason. He usually caused me to avoid him in the halls, but now we had this odd closeness. I honestly didn't much care for his arm around my shoulder either. However, I wasn't going to be the one to tell him to take it off. From the look in the other students' eyes, I could tell this wouldn't go away after today. Sadly, I realized I would probably be seen as the school queer. I'm sure Tom would be proud.

"My goodness! What happened to you?"

My eyes lifted upward to focus on the school nurse. She was around my mother's age, middle forties, and had thinning blonde hair kept up in an ever-growing unpopular teased look; a lost remnant of the eighties. With an inviting and most times caring face, and her short frame carrying a few extra pounds, she had an almost mother-like quality to her. We all called her Sylvia, because she looked like Fran's mother in The Nanny, but her real name was Helen. Nurse Helen actually, if you were trying to be all technical about labels.

"I fell into a locker," I said.

"He was pushed into a locker," Jason said, looking at me with slight disappointment that I had lied.

Helen patted the ugly brown examination table. "Who pushed you?" she asked.

"I didn't see," I said, as I climbed up on the table. "They did it from behind."

"Well it doesn't look too bad," Helen said, slipping on some examination gloves. "We'll just get you cleaned up." She looked at Jason over her shoulder. "You didn't happen to see who did this, did you?"

"I didn't," Jason said, "or I would've done something about it."

"Well don't be going around telling the principal that," Helen said, winking at Jason.

"They did it because of my nails," I said.

"Well that's no reason to push someone," Helen said. "Just because they're a little different."

Nurse Helen swabbed over my cut with some peroxide. She took great care in cleaning the area, almost like my own mother would. I couldn't help but look up into her pale brown eyes. She glanced down and gave me an assuring smile. Then she reached over and got a small band-aid to put over the cut. When she got done with applying the band-aid, she reached down and took my fingers gently in her hand.

"I have some acetone if you'd like to remove that polish," Helen said.

"No," I said. "I'm going to keep it on."

"He's braver than I would be," Jason said.

Helen dropped my hand. "You be more careful out there dear," she said, giving me a concerned smile. She walked over to her small desk, and pulled out two small pieces of paper. "I'll write you both a note for your teachers, but straight to class with you. No dallying."

The rest of the day fell upon me like a torrential rain. Classmates continued to stare at me, while those more bold entered their jabs with a quip or two about my girlish decision. At least I didn't meet anymore lockers with my head that day. Not even lunch with the girls cheered me up. Though they did take a vested interest in my nails. Tiffany made sure she pointed out how awesome it was that I put myself out there, as Danielle and Tracy took intrigue in the story of how I got the cut on my head.

In all of the absurdity of the day, I did manage to make myself noticed. Granted students and teachers noticed me for all of the wrong reasons, but now my name got out there. Toward the end of the day, even eighth graders were taking interest in me. Most of the students already knew the basis of the story, but somewhere along the line it had developed interesting plot twists. It seemed each time someone asked me about my nails, they had a different outlook on the story.

I felt like the first popular outsider ever known to man. There was no pride in being known this way. As girls played games of pointing out how many feminine features they could find on me, the boys played games of guessing which guy I got prettied up for the night before. Teachers were involved as well, as they had to break up quite a few conversations to conduct class. Most girls shot me friendly smiles, as the boys shot me crude looks of lust with winking and tongue to go with them.

By the time I stepped into art class, the last hour of the day, I had found it easier to bury my head as close to the desk as possible. I hardly even noticed Tiffany had entered the room. She had even brought my art box over for me. It started getting noisier, as students clambered into their seats. All I could think about was getting this day over with. I still had a grueling bus ride home; most likely filled with more jokes and foul attention.

"Are you okay?" Tiffany asked.

"Would you be?" Tawny asked. "The whole school's been talking about him all day."

"Drop your cynicism for once, Tawny," Tiffany said.

"Cynicism…" Tawny said, dragging it out in a more questioning tone. "Is that the word of the day?"

"No," I said, lifting my head to look at Tawny. "The word of the day is: 'Oh look! Sissy Bailey has true blue fingernails! Let's make fun of him all day!'"

"That's more of a topic," Tawny said.

"Ugh," I said, as I collapsed onto the table.

"Tawny…" Tiffany said.

"What?" Tawny asked. "I'm just saying it's a topic."

"Well do you have to be so --"

"Bitchy?" Vanessa asked.

I heard her pull her chair out and sit down. Then I felt her hand around mine. I looked up to see Vanessa's caramel eyes dancing over my nails. She held my fingers up a bit to the light. To this day, I still remember her smile. It wasn't one of those smiles that said "that's so cute," or "nice color." Instead, the smile on Vanessa's face looked like she was pleased that my girlishness had come out in a more public setting.

"Well there's your problem," Vanessa said.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"Bailey, honey, you made them too perfect," Vanessa said.

I looked at Vanessa like she had lost her mind. "Huh?"

"You said Tiffany did them," Vanessa said. "When girls paint guys nails, we do it like we don't care if it comes off in ten seconds. Yours look like you spent some time on them. You even used base and top coats. I can tell, because they're even and have a glossy shine." Vanessa handed my hand to Tawny, while Tiffany grabbed my other hand. "They look almost professional."

"Wow," Tiffany said. "I didn't notice at lunch."

Vanessa pointed at herself. "Fashion is my thing. What can I say?"

"Did you get a manicure?" Tawny asked.

I shook my head.

Tawny's eyebrows raised. "Your mom help?"

I shook my head again.

"You did these by yourself?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes," I said. "Toes too."

"You did a good job," Tiffany said. "How long did it take?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe thirty minutes."

"You got them looking that good in thirty minutes?" Tawny asked. "I can't even get mine to look good in three hours."

"That's because you're a dyke," Vanessa said, "and you never take care of them."

"True," Tawny said. "Except for the dyke part."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's more of a lipstick lesbian." She took Tawny's hand and they blew each other kisses.

"Like you?" Vanessa asked, now smiling smugly.

"You know you're dying to try it," Tiffany said.

"Not really," Vanessa said, sitting back in her chair. "I'm dying to know why Bailey painted his own nails up last night."

"He always paints them," Tiffany said.

"I thought you did it for him," Vanessa said.

"Nah," Tiffany said. "I mean, sometimes. When we're bored we do it for each other."

"No wonder he's so damn good at it," Tawny said. "Really…" She looked at me with a reassuring smile. "Good job!"

"So what now?" I asked. They all stared at me like I'd asked the unanswerable question. "How can I just make this go away?"

"The way I see it," Tawny said, "there are two ways. One is to keep painting them, and not let the jokes get to you, which in my opinion would take a ton of courage. Two is to stop painting them, and wait for this to all wash over." She shrugged her shoulders. "Either way, it'll be awhile until people get bored with it."

"Or you can quit school," Vanessa said, jokingly.

"Ah," Tawny said. "Three ways then."

"You know all about three ways," Vanessa said.

"Whatever," Tawny said. "I swear I'm going to jump you at our next sleepover."

"Well you shouldn't have told her," Tiffany said. "Now she won't come."

"Oh, she'll come," Tawny said. "They always come."

The bell rang just as Vanessa was about to say something. Tawny squeezed my hand before she let it go. I almost forgot she was holding it, until she did that action. Tiffany still held my left hand with her right, and had been petting it with her own left hand. She gave me a smile and let my hand go. Our teacher stepped up from behind her desk, and got the class's attention.

"Now we all got your pictures from Friday traced," Ms. Fritz said, "and most of you have retraced them from the projector. Those blown up images you have now, are going to be your next assignment." She stepped out into the middle of the room. "We're going to be doing another shading exercise like you did with the still-life, but this time we're going about it a little differently. You're going to need a partner. Someone from your table. So take a moment to sort that out, and I'll tell you the rest."

"I call Bailey," Tawny said, before any of us could speak.

"What?!" Tiffany asked. "Why?"

"I dunno," Tawny said. "Just feel like something different." She turned to Tiffany. "No offense, but you two always team up."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Because we're sort of, you know, together?"

"It's okay," I said to Tiffany. "It might be fun for a change."

Tiffany sat back in a contrived huff. "That means I'm stuck with Vanessa," she said.

"Such love," Vanessa said, shaking her head, but sporting a smile.

"Thought you didn't wanna be loved by a girl," Tawny said mockingly.

"No," Vanessa said. "I know she's kidding."

"I am," Tiffany said. "And I agree. It might be fun for a change."

"Now that you all have a partner," Ms. Fritz said, taking control of the class once more, "I'll tell you what you'll be doing. I want you all to swap your pictures with your partner." She paused. "If you haven't retraced it on the projector yet, you will finish that today." She carried her thin, graceful frame back to her desk. "Now for the project, I want you to continue with what you've learned from shading, but I'm allowing you a little artistic license. I want you to fill in that outline of your partner with what you see." She put her arms across her chest. "Within reason. This isn't an opportunity to make a mockery of your partner."

"Aw," Vanessa said lightly, but loud enough for us to hear. "I was going to make mine a portrait of Tiffany swimming in a sea of naked women."

Tiffany gave Vanessa a constrained look of disgust, yet a hint of holding back laughter. I had expected a defensive taunt from Tawny, but none came. When I looked at her, she had this lost look upon her face. With the index finger of her right hand, she traced the outline I had retraced onto the paper. She sat in silence, contemplating what she could do with each line she saw before her.

"Now this project will be due before Thanksgiving break," Ms. Fritz said. "You'll be graded mostly on the shading technique, and how you incorporate the different styles into your work." She sat down at her desk. "Go ahead and get started. Remember, my definition of artistic license is not license to do something comical or inappropriate. You can come to my desk if you have any questions."

I sat and watched Tawny for most of the class time. While she busied herself with laying out the basic shading patterns from my original picture, I studied her. Vanessa's comments about Tawny in the previous weeks had been a bit cruel. I know that we all joked around a lot, but some part of me felt Vanessa saw Tawny as some horrible lesbian beast. This sentiment was far from reality, and probably only based in Vanessa's slight homophobia.

Vanessa gave Tawny a harder time than Tiffany and me. I think it was mostly because she saw Tiffany and I in an almost normal boy and girl relationship. However, Tawny's relationship with Megan was a lot closer to an actual girl and girl relationship. We all saw Megan as a girl. None of us could deny it. Megan just carried herself like a girl, and couldn't slip back to being a boy if we begged her to. She didn't have it in her anymore, if she ever had it at all.

Tawny was very pretty though. She tried to play it down, by dawning apparel thrown together from the dying grunge look, remnants of the skater look, and the emerging emo look. The only problem I saw in it all, was the fact that Tawny looked pretty in just about anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't play down the way she looked. It poured out in any little gap she left in the system. I think that's what I liked about her most.

She knew she was pretty. That was the thing. Tawny knew deep down she had the look to land herself among the pretty and popular group. I always thought she had sacrificed that to be closer to Megan, when in fact, she did it to shed attention. Though as she shed some attention from not living up to her potential, she gained some the other way for hiding it. She gained the worst kind of attention. It was the attention I suffered through today, the attention offered only to those deemed as outcasts.

That's when it hit me. I had a chance to play up all of the strengths I saw in Tawny. She had beautiful bright green eyes, almost electric. I knew I was held to the constraints of black and white, but I could try to play her eyes up with shading. Her lips were perfect. I actually found them more kissable than Tiffany's lips, but I would never tell her that. Tawny's black hair made her look exotic. The way her medium length, layered bob framed her face was amazing.

Tawny stopped for a moment and glanced up at me. "Like what you see?" she asked.

"I…" My stammer invited all three girls now to look at me. "I was just getting an idea of what to do for my picture," I covered.

"You could start by putting the pencil to the paper," Tawny said, with a smug smile. "It works for me."

Even her smugness, and raw cynicism seemed attractive. Most of the time it would be a turn off to me, but having gotten to know her, I knew she mostly did it when she felt uncomfortable. Sometimes she would do it just to mess with people. On the rarest occasions, she did it to make people feel uncomfortable so that she could feel more comfortable. I think that was one of those times. She felt uncomfortable at me looking at her, so I dropped my gaze and started on my picture.

"To answer your question though," I said. "I would have to say yes."

"Huh?" Tawny asked.

I glanced back up at her. "I like what I see," I said, with a smile.

For the first time I could remember, I got Tawny Simmons to blush. Not only that, but it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen from her. She even got flustered, and fidgeted with her hair. Her face dropped straight down, like someone had smacked the back of her head, or hit her power switch. I lowered my gaze, but I kept her in view. She sat like that for a long moment, unwilling to lift her head for anyone to see her.

I felt like I had broken into a part of Tawny not yet explored. She had a soft side. Beneath all of her layers she was nothing more than a blushing girl, flattered by the weakest of compliments. She never acted that way around other boys who complimented her. Though it was hard to recount how many actually had. Megan never made her blush, or at least I didn't think she did. Maybe Megan made her blush by other means, in private. This got my mind headed in a bad direction, and I think Tiffany read my mind, or at least saw it in my face.

Tiffany cleared her throat. Her interaction with our situation was like a hammer shattering glass. I hoped what I said didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It was basically meant to make Tawny uncomfortable, not Tiffany. Though I never really took into account the fact that my girlfriend sat right between us. She wasn't glaring at me. That was a good sign. I sat in silence the rest of the class, beginning my attempt at rendering Tawny's outline into a masterpiece. I just had to make her beauty shine forth.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 5

Nothing magnificent could ever be said about a school cafeteria, especially on an ordinary Friday in October. If anyone had the time, patience, or bored curiosity, they could try to pick out each distinctive item on the menu from smell alone. The tables creaked, the silverware clattered, and the multitude of students tried to fill the rest of the room with chatter; in an honest attempt to see which conversation would be king over the air. Our table, on the other hand, had grown unusually quiet.

It had been quiet for the past week, as a matter of fact. One could argue that our conversations had grown dull and lacking of anything fresh, but I more or less thought it was because we didn't want to talk. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that the leaves outside were changing. Whatever the case may be, we had plenty to talk about, but chose not to. It was a rather strange dilemma, which is why I was startled to hear one of the girls actually speak.

"I'm glad you decided to go tonight," Tiffany said.

Her right hand snaked across the lunchroom table, landing on my left hand and covering it completely. In my other hand, I gripped the cafeteria fork lightly. My dark purple nails reflected off of the dull silverware held between my fingers. I had chosen, by my own freewill, to keep painting my nails, and wear them painted to school. It had been nearly two weeks since the first time I had done it, and unfortunately I was still waiting for the day when I could live it down.

It wasn't like I chose ultra feminine colors either. I avoided pinks, and stuck to mostly darker shades of polish; blues, greens, purples and a rich ruby red at one time. While there were a few that accepted it, the majority of my classmates thought it was queer. A lot of them professed this vocally, while others merely hinted at it. Surprisingly all but one kid on my bus had let it go. I figured if I took a stand on this issue, they would all eventually back down.

At home, Tom thought I was reverting back to my old ways, or some nonsense. He didn't interfere with my decision, but I could tell that he disapproved. Frankly, I thought of him as in the same lot as the jerks at school. Jason didn't show much approval either, but then again, I didn't see him much at school anymore. Our little restroom meetings had ended abruptly, and while my other friends thought it was cool of me to be so bold, there was at least one I thought wanted it to be over.

"Why is Danielle sitting over there?" I asked.

I had a hard time trying not to look in her general direction. Over the course of the past week, Danielle had distanced herself from our group. She used to sit next to me every single day, and now she acted disgusted at the thought. Though she claimed it was nothing personal, I felt it had everything to do with all of the attention I was getting. It seemed ironic to think that the gossip queen felt intimidated when she came too close to the gossip.

"I don't know," Tracy said. "She's been avoiding us lately."

"I can't help but think I'm responsible," I said. "You know… with the nails and all." I dipped my fork down into the mashed potatoes on my tray, and continued to pick off bites of them.

"No," Tracy said. "It's just awkward timing is all."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's been like that for awhile now."

"About the second week of school actually," Tracy said. "I'm not too worried though. She's more like a friend of a friend in any respect."

"Oh," I said. "Well I never noticed. I guess I don't know her as well as I thought." I looked over at Danielle. "I wonder what the problem is."

"I think it has something to do with Vanessa," Tiffany said. "They even had a bit of a fight a couple weekends ago."

"Seems like Vanessa is getting on everyone's nerves lately," I said.

"She doesn't really bother me," Tiffany said.

"Does she bother you?" Tracy asked.

"No," I said, looking at Tiffany. I almost flipped a forkful of food at her. "I can't believe you're not bothered by all of her remarks."

Tiffany shrugged. "I've gotten used to her sense of humor."

"If that's what you call it," I said. "Some people call it rudeness."

Tiffany shrugged at my suggestion. "I guess…"

Looking back over at the other table, I noticed Danielle seemed entrenched in the conversation. She did seem happy. Maybe she got bored over here. The girls she sat with were a bit more popular, and in the good way; at least by junior high standards. They were somewhat intellectual, mostly in seventh grade, but a couple of eighth graders sat with them. If you considered the really popular kids were on the A list, the kids Danielle sat with would probably be the A minus or B list.

A small part of me felt jealous that she could just pick up new friends on a whim. I mean she had previous connections to some of them, but I wished I could fit in that well. That's not to say I wasn't thankful for every friend that I had. I loved Tiffany, and really got along well with the other girls. What little of Jason I saw, I kind of liked having him around too. I guess maybe I felt like I had lost another friend, and was scared of losing others.

"So who's all in tonight?" Tracy asked.

"Well…" Tiffany seemed to be contemplating the question deeply. "Tawny and Megan for sure. I know Lynne will be there, along with my sister. You and your sister…"

"Kale too," Tracy said.

"Oh cool!" Tiffany said. "I haven't seen him since… well… you know?"

We all gave each other knowing looks. It felt a little embarrassing to talk about what had happened that day, and I was glad Tiffany said something about it, rather than me. I wasn't exactly nervous talking about the nuances of transgender issues, but at the same time I didn't want to be the spokesperson for the community. Only with Kale, it felt a little confusing to put it mildly. Ever since I saw him dressed in Tiffany's clothing, I had developed a sort of curious crush on him.

"Yeah…" Tracy said. "About that." She glanced back and forth between us. "Look, don't get all freaked out if he…"

"He what?" Tiffany asked.

"He's been acting strange ever since that happened," Tracy said, sighing a bit. "Don't be surprised if he shows up in a dress."

I almost choked on a green bean.

"What?" Tiffany asked, before I could muster the question.

"I've caught him in my things a few times," Tracy said. "I didn't say anything to my parents, because I think he's just curious. He seemed really embarrassed when I found out. I think it's just a phase with him." She paused. "Not like you, Bailey."

"Not like me?" I asked, taking a rather large gulp of milk afterwards.

"Well… I mean," Tracy stammered as she looked at me. "You're seeing a professional."

"Only because that was the deal I made with Tom," I said. "I don't think the guy is doing much for me to be honest."

"You seem more comfortable with it now," Tracy said. She gestured at my fingernails.

"I'm doing this," I said, holding my hand up with the back facing her. "To show I'm not afraid of what people think, and to make it clear that I won't be bullied into stopping something because it's not considered 'normal' to others."

Tracy stared at me with a blank expression.

"Well I think it's awesome," Tiffany said, pulling my hand down into hers.

"I'm sorry," I said to Tracy. "I'm just tired of people telling me what to do."

"You're obviously mad at something," Tracy said. "But I don't think it's me."

"No," I said. "I'm not mad at you. I'm really not mad at all. It's just…" I glanced around at the different tables. "Don't you wish you could get up everyday and not have to worry about fitting in?"

"Believe me," Tracy said, her eyes growing slightly bigger. "I would kill for that."

"Same," Tiffany said.

"I just wish I could go to school, the mall, or whatever, as myself," I said. "I'm tired of people trying to label me."

"I'm tired of worrying everyday about which outfit will make me look skinnier," Tracy said. "I just feel like everyone focuses on me that way."

"Well I don't," I said. "Neither does Jason."

"Really?" Tracy asked. "Because I've been stressing myself out to look perfect for him."

"He likes you just the way you are," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I do too."

"Same," Tiffany said, like she was in the background of our conversation.

"Thanks you two." Tracy smiled. "What about you?" she asked Tiffany.

"Me?" Tiffany asked. "Oh it's nothing really."

"Come on!" I said.

"Nothing?" Tracy asked.

The bell rang, signaling the end of our lunch. Tiffany seemed all to eager to get away from our lunch table. She acted like she had to be the first one out of the cafeteria. Tracy and I looked at each other for a moment, and then hurried to get up and chase after her. No matter what we tried, we couldn't hardly get another word out of Tiffany. I gave up and just walked with her back to class. Tracy split from us to go see Jason between lunch periods.

"What was that about?" I asked, wandering with Tiffany to the edge of the busy hallway.

"Nothing," Tiffany said. "I'll tell you tonight."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Tiffany said, giving me a smile.

We shared our usual kiss before parting ways. When most of the kids saw I was still kissing Tiffany, and noticed we were together, some of them gave up on the whole "Bailey is queer" bit. Word got around about it, and the students who were reluctant to give up the teasing just labeled me as a freak. Still, there were a lot of students who were far less easier to please. Those were the ones who never gave up. They never stopped with the jokes or crude innuendos.

I watched Tiffany disappear toward her homeroom. After a brief moment, I stepped into the crowd flowing up and down the hall. As I tried my best to weave in and out between the students, I felt someone tap my shoulder from behind. When I turned to see who had done it, I felt a blunt strike on the leg on which most of my weight was supported. My knee buckled. As I fell backwards, another blow came to the back of my other shoulder, like someone had slammed into me with their own shoulder.

This time the perpetrators were bolder. They stood around and laughed, giving each other high fives, as I pushed myself up off of the floor. Luckily I had managed not to meet the floor with my face. I forced myself to stand, while studying the faces of the three boys. Unfortunately I didn't know a single one of them. They weren't in any of my classes, and the other students around weren't that helpful. Most of them walked by shaking their heads with half-smiles that said "what a dork," like I had tripped or something.

Two of the kids had short blonde hair, and were about my size. They probably felt a bit bigger now after making me look small. The third had a darker complexion, Mexican from what I could tell, with slick black hair. He stood a good half foot taller than the other two, and seemed to have the meanest disposition out of the three. Eventually all three of the boys slipped into the crowd of students, and disappeared.

I stood, looking over my attire, to see if anything seemed out of place, or in disrepair. Nothing seemed injured, except my pride. What probably hurt more than anything, was the fact nobody helped me up. They all had better things to do, like walking by and giving me strange looks. After straightening myself, and checking to see if I had another blindside coming, I pulled myself into homeroom and took my seat.

The small skirmish left me feeling a bit insecure, but nothing hurt or appeared bruised or broken. This time was unlike the last, where I had to care for a cut for several days to make sure it didn't scar. My mother panicked, bombarding me with the usual questions on how I got a cut on my forehead. I wanted to avoid her, or even worse Tom, getting in on the situation. So I lied right to my mother's face. I told her I tripped and fell into a locker.

Though I couldn't be sure of it, I bet they both thought I wasn't telling them the whole story. Recently my stories had gotten less complete. I lied about a few things in my stories, left out details in others, and flat out disregarded telling some stories completely to my mother and Tom. I guess I thought the more I let them in, the more they would want to know. Perhaps they would start babying me like when I was younger. It almost felt like my "disorder" caused everyone to pull me back to the starting line and deal with me like I were a new person.

It all felt odd; almost as odd as one of the boys now staring at me in homeroom. I didn't know him, but I remembered him sitting near Danielle at lunch. He didn't give me any strange looks, but rather just stared; out of interest or curiosity perhaps. I shied away from the eye contact. Something about him made me feel uneasy. Although the uneasy feeling might have been runoff from what had occurred in the hallway, I just wanted him to stop.

The bell made him stop. Unfortunately, the bell didn't make my mind stop conjuring up reasons why he would be staring at me in the first place. Did Danielle say something about me? I could see the little gossip queen divulging information to other kids asking why I did girly things. It wasn't farfetched at all. In fact, I would consider it the best way for her to get in with other crowds after being in ours.

Of course, Danielle could have been far from the reason this boy stared at me. Maybe Jason told him to keep an eye on me, or something like that. Why would Jason all of a sudden be my bodyguard though? Just because we were somewhat friends, didn't make my safety an obligation for him. I doubted he even cared enough to have other students keep a lookout on me. That seemed a lot sillier than the option of Danielle.

Maybe nobody had a part in it. Perhaps this kid found some kind of intrigue with me? I sneaked a look at him, making sure he didn't see me. He wasn't extremely cute, yet wasn't at all ugly. With a short mop of blonde hair, a nice face that hadn't lost its baby fat yet, and light brown eyes that showed a lot of soul; I would have rated him as mildly handsome. Surely he could do much better than me, if he was at all interested in the first place. I changed my focus as the teacher stood to get the attention of the class.

I don't know why, but I looked forward to art class that day more than any other day since school started. The rest of the day, since lunch, had been uneventful. Though I thought a little bit about the boy who had been staring at me in homeroom, by sixth hour it didn't seem to matter anymore. Now, in art class, I didn't even think to mention it to the other girls. They probably would have known who the boy was, but I let him slip from my mind.

"Did Danielle say anything to you today?" Vanessa asked, grabbing my right wrist before I could even sit down.

"I haven't talked to her since Tuesday," I said.

"Oh…" Vanessa said, still holding onto my wrist.

Oddly enough, Vanessa had been the first one in class. She never got to class early. In fact, she usually came in as one of the last to class. That wasn't the strangest thing by any stretch. Vanessa also looked extremely worried, like she had been waiting for bad news all day. When she let my wrist slip from her hand, I managed to catch her hand in mine. Her coffee brown eyes looked up into mine with surprise.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

"No…" Vanessa said, shaking her head slowly to emphasize her answer.

I took my seat, keeping her hand in mine. "What's wrong?"

"None of my friends will…" Vanessa glanced away, and then quickly back to me. "With the exception of you, Megan, Rachel and the three T's, nobody will talk to me."

"What did you do to them?" I asked, assuming Vanessa had done her bitchy best to distance herself from her other friends.

"Nothing," Vanessa said. "I think Danielle said, or is saying stuff about me."

"I was thinking the same thing at lunch, only about me," I said. "What could she possibly have on you?"

"I…" Vanessa looked around. "I can't talk about it here," she said. "Just… if you hear anything…" She gazed right into my eyes. "Don't think any less of me, okay?"

"That's really not all that hard," Tawny said, coming up behind Vanessa.

"Sadly…" Vanessa said, turning to Tawny. "I'd take your snide remarks over silence."

Tawny shook her head at Vanessa. "You still on that?" she asked, sitting down. "Look… anyone who actually cares about you, hasn't gone anywhere. So screw the rest of them."

I looked over to see Tiffany talking to a boy at another table. Only they weren't just talking, but Tiffany seemed overly friendly with him. She reached out and touched his tan arm a few times, and giggled at some of his remarks. He said something, and then reached up and took a strand of his short and curly blonde hair in his fingers. Tiffany responded favorably and smiled as she combed through the same area the boy had shown her. She was flirting with him!

"Right Bailey?" Tawny said, a bit louder to get my attention.

I turned and gawked at Tawny. She had this impatient look, like she didn't want to repeat the question. Vanessa looked at me as well. Her look was one of pure anticipation for the answer. I noticed I still had her hand in mine, so I gripped it tighter. After giving her hand a little shake, and looking as sincerely as I could into Vanessa's eyes, I gave her a reassuring smile. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tiffany walking away from the boy.

"Definitely," I said, giving Vanessa another smile. Vanessa seemed encouraged and elated by the answer, and moved to work on her art project. I got Tawny's attention and motioned toward the boy Tiffany had been talking with at the other table. "Who is that boy over there?"

"Vince Simmons," Tawny said. "No relation. I just know his name from role call in homeroom." She paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between me and the boy. "He's kinda cute. You interested?"

"What?!" I sat back in my chair and glared at Tawny. "No!"

"Defensive," Tawny said. "Interesting…"

"I find it interesting that Tiffany was flirting with him," I said.

"Really?" Tawny asked. "That's what you think?"

"Yes," I said. "The whole time we were talking."

"You should ask her about him," Tawny said. "Just not right now."

"Here she comes," I said in a lowered voice.

Tiffany slid into her seat right as the bell rang. She flashed me a smile, which I reluctantly returned, and then went right to work on her art project. It bugged me a little that she casually ignored the scene which had just occurred moments ago. Then again, if there was nothing there, she wouldn't have had anything to say about it. Still, my girlfriend talking to another boy felt so wrong. I felt the same as I had when she flirted with Kevin at the roller rink.

I watched Tiffany for a few moments. She worked on her project like the art had taken her prisoner. Once she fell into its grip, she couldn't escape from her art. Tawny was right. This wasn't the right time to bring this up. Tiffany would only partially be involved in the conversation, while the majority of her would be longing to get back to her artwork. That only begged the question of when to bring it up.

If I waited too long, Tiffany would think it perfectly alright to keep flirting with him and other boys as well. I would continue to slip into the back of her mind as simply one of the girls. Lately I hadn't really played the part of her "boyfriend", leaving room for this indecent action to take place. My absence of portraying anything "manly", coupled with the new onslaught of teasing by my peers, perhaps gave other boys the incentive to seek Tiffany out. Maybe it really wasn't her fault, but mine.

On the other hand, I couldn't be too hasty with this either. If it was harmless flirting, or even an innocent conversation, I would just end up getting Tiffany mad at me. That was something I didn't need at the moment. I had enough to worry about without dealing with an irate girlfriend. It would definitely be my fault if I blew this out of proportion. Either way I looked at the situation, it felt like it was my fault. That made me feel even worse.

My focus turned back to my own artwork. Maybe Tiffany felt betrayed that I went with Tawny's suggestion to be her partner for this project. While it was true that I partnered up with Tiffany on almost everything, that's usually what couples do. Had I somehow given some absent-minded tell that I had moved on? Was partnering with Tawny a subconscious indication that I wanted more? All of this psycho babble, brought on by Rajan and others over-analyzing me, had my mind thinking in circles.

That was it! I wasn't thinking clearly. Tiffany and I loved each other. Surely she wouldn't read that much into me choosing another partner. I had to be willing enough not to read too much into her harmless talks with other boys. After all, she claimed to be a lesbian. Why would she be chasing after other boys? What I really had to look out for, was when she started flirting with other girls. That would be a sign that it was all coming to an end.

I moved my right hand. The pencil clenched between my fingers began to streak lines of charcoal gray across the paper. Before long my other hand jumped in, swabbing the streaks of gray with a q-tip. Tawny's eyes were really starting to come to life. I had managed to give them depth, a hard thing to do with a two dimensional shading project. They would never be as beautiful as her real eyes, but I tried hard to make them stand out in my picture.

As I continued to work, I felt an uneasy, but steady calm come over me. If anything, my mind would be relaxed for the next thirty minutes or so. I had too many things to think about. Most of my thoughts hung on questions I would ask Tiffany. Then there were other important questions. Questions like: "What would I wear tonight?" or "Would I have enough time to do my hair before the girls arrived?" All I could do was count the hours until tonight.

Late October could be felt upon every inch of my bare skin. The night had brought with it a chilling breeze, and I felt horribly underdressed. Granted the only skin I bared happened to be my hands and face, but I had chosen clothing too lightweight for the evening. My knees were perpetually within five seconds of knocking together, when I stood still in my purple pantyhose. I should have worn tights, or even jeans tonight, but I hadn't expected the temperature to drop so rapidly.

At least my lower legs were warm, encased snugly by the brown boots I got from my night working at 'Tweens. I wanted to wear the leather skirt with them at first, but I was scared of getting it ruined. So I settled on a jean skirt, frayed a bit at the bottom, that didn't cover nearly enough of my legs. From the bottom of the skirt, to the top of my boots, it felt like those ten inches or so were pure ice.

The top half of my ensemble was a bit warmer. By my mother's advice, I wore a white long-sleeve bodysuit under the purple-toned plaid, flannel shirt I had thought about wearing solo. After I left the house, Kate had helped my shirt selection look a bit more feminine by rolling the sleeves up tight, and loosening a few buttons. It looked feminine, but it also took a layer away from my forearms. The outfit was the best I could come up with for a fall harvest festival. Most people tried to come out dressed in some kind of country theme.

Vendor stalls lined Main Street. The local farmers' market came out to this event every year. They peddled everything from kettle corn to homemade arts and crafts. Growing up in a somewhat large town, it was always nice to see a little bit of the rural life grace our town for a weekend. Something could be found for everyone, including the usual medley of carnival games that sneaked into the affair. To me, this festival was just good clean fun.

While my friends scattered about, most of them flocking to craft tables, I headed hard and fast to the first booth selling something to warm my chilled body up. The first thing I found happened to be hot, homemade apple cider. I couldn't wait to wrap my hands around the cup. Even the Styrofoam was warm. I took a few cautious sips, and looked around the rest of Main Street. Apparently I had gotten away from my friends, and couldn't find any of them in the crowd.

"Bailey?"

I turned slowly toward the male voice I heard. It sounded familiar, but it wasn't Nathan or Justin. I would have recognized Jason's voice, or even Kevin's, but it wasn't them either. A little part of my mind said it could be trouble, but I had already started to turn. I had acknowledged that I responded to that name, and now I couldn't retract from it. When I saw who had said my name, I groaned on the inside. It was trouble after all.

"I see you couldn't wait to wear those boots."

"Hi Dylan," I said, managing to remember his name at the last second.

"You look nice," Dylan said, his smile leaving his lips, but remaining in his brown eyes.

My eyes traced over Dylan's attire for a brief moment. He had on baggy jeans and black Doc Martin's. The only trace of anything country-related on him happened to be the rust and burgundy plaid flannel shirt, opened over an old worn out black t-shirt with "Nirvana" across the chest. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't wear preppy clothes all the time. I guess he only did that for appearances to work for 'Tweens. Personally, I liked him better in his preppy outfit.

"You look… comfortable," I said, with a sly grin, "and warm."

"Are you cold?" Dylan asked.

"I'm okay now," I said, holding up the cup of cider for emphasis.

We both noticed the older lady at the cider booth giving us a smile like she was witnessing a love connection. Dylan made the first move, and gestured for me to walk with him. Truth be told, I was still freezing, but I remembered what Tiffany had said about boys. Any little thing I might do could seem like flirting to them, so I wanted to be careful. I definitely didn't want to give Dylan the wrong impression about me. The last thing I wanted was for him to offer to warm me up.

"Sorry we didn't get to talk much the other night," Dylan said. "Your friend Vanessa sort of took over the conversation."

"She does that," I said, trying to keep the unusually slow pace Dylan had set for our walk. "What do you think of her?"

"Vanessa?" Dylan asked, like he had forgotten who we were talking about. "She's okay. Not really my type though."

"What is your type?" I asked, taking a sip from my cider.

"I don't know," Dylan said. "Maybe a bit more sincere?"

I actually had to chuckle a bit at Dylan's remark. "You don't think she was being sincere?"

"Not really," Dylan said. "I think she was just talking to me, because she's one of those girls that's programmed to talk to boys." He looked around at the booths. "You know… just for the hell of it."

"You probably know her a lot better than I do," I said. "I thought you two were hitting it off though."

"No, not really," Dylan said, looking back at me. "She comes on too strong."

"Kind of like you did the other night?" I asked.

"Did I?" Dylan asked. "If I did, I apologize. I told you I get nervous around pretty girls."

"Yes," I said. "I remember. You said you talk a lot when you're nervous too."

"You remembered that?" Dylan asked.

"Well…" I looked around. "To be honest, you made an unusual first impression, and you were distracting me."

"I like honesty like that!" Dylan said. "Not that fake sitcom crap where everything ends in hugs. It's refreshing." Dylan stopped walking for a moment. "Hopefully I wasn't a horrible distraction."

"So you just prefer cheesy one-liners that instigate further conversation?" I asked, smiling smugly at him.

"Point to you," Dylan said.

I found myself giggling a bit along with his slight chuckle. "No…" I said.

"No?"

"No, you weren't horrible," I said. "I swear you were going to screw up that job somehow though."

"I would've made it up to you," Dylan said. "You're a nice girl." He started walking again. "Nice, and honest."

Inwardly I felt remorse at having heard that. I was far from honest with Dylan. He didn't even know what gender I really was, let alone what I was really like. Sadly, even if I did like the guy, I couldn't let anything happen beyond friendship. I couldn't tell him now, and would end up keeping it from him for as long as possible. Eventually my little avoided truth would come up, and I don't think he would take it with stride so far into a relationship. Why even put him through all of that?

"So… do you go to school here?" I asked.

"Henley," Dylan said. "You?"

"Prescott," I lied. "I mean… I will be." I paused for a moment, afraid to say the next few words. "In a couple of years."

"Oh…" Dylan said.

I lowered my cup of cider from another sip. "That didn't sound like a good 'oh' to me."

"I just thought you were older," Dylan said. "A freshman like me, or same grade as Jillian."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said.

"It would take a lot more than age difference to disappoint me," Dylan said. "It's too bad though."

"Why's that?"

"Well…" Dylan said. "I was thinking of asking you out." He sighed. "Your parents probably don't let you date yet do they?"

"Afraid not," I managed to choke out, relieved Dylan had given me an excuse to use before I could think of one.

"Maybe I'll see you at 'Tweens then," Dylan said, "or around the mall even."

"Perhaps," I said.

I took a moment to look around the busy street, allowing Dylan the opportunity to exit the conversation gracefully. Across the street, mixed up in a lively game of tossing rings at bottles, were Tiffany, Vanessa and Tracy. Rebecca stood at the next booth, with a girl I recognized from the pool party, and Kale tagging along, tugging at his sister's jacket. It seemed to be annoying Rebecca to no end, and I couldn't help but smile at the situation. Dylan must have read my smile as something else entirely.

"I guess I'll see you around then," Dylan said. "Was nice talking to you again, pretty lady."

"Yes it was," I said. "I mean… same to you."

Dylan raised his hand halfway into a nervous wave goodbye. I took my left hand off of my cup of cider just long enough to return the wave. Before another word passed between us, Dylan had turned and taken off down Main Street. My eyes stayed on him for a moment, until Tiffany's all too familiar excited voice pulled my focus back to the other side of the street. I turned just in time to see her wrapping her arms around Vince in a friendly hug.

If nothing else warmed me up, the small streak of rage running up my spine did the trick for a few moments. I waited until Tiffany broke the hug, and then stormed across the street. By the time I made it over to them, Vanessa and Tracy had moved on, and Tiffany and Vince were knee deep in conversation. The closer I got to them, the more I felt like interrupting the conversation with my fist in Vince's face.

"Hey!" Tiffany said, as she saw me approaching. "Here she is now." She stepped over to put her arms around me. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She talked over her shoulder to Vince. "My best friend Bailey."

Vince looked me over. "Ah… Bailey of course," he said, extending his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I asked, more confrontational than surprised.

"Tiffany talks about you all the time," Vince said. "Well…" He gave Tiffany a knowing smile. "Not all the time."

I reached out my hand, prepared to shake Vince's hand. Instead, I found my hand being swept up in his and very quickly moved to his mouth. In no time flat he had his lips pressed against my bare skin, and stamped the back of my hand with a kiss. It felt strange to me. All in one single moment, it felt flattering, and revolting, and I wanted to wipe the back of my hand on his shirt. As I pulled my hand away, I noticed Vince taking notice of my nail polish.

"Nice color," Vince said.

"Thanks," I said.

My mind instantly withdrew its objection to the impromptu make out session Vince had had with my hand, and moved on to something else entirely. He made absolutely no indication that he recognized me. We were in the same art class together, and I sat by Tiffany every day. Surely Vince could deduce who I was, and that I happened to be Tiffany's boyfriend, and not her best girl friend. Either that, or he wasn't as smart as he presumed to be.

"It's actually nice to meet you in person," Vince said. "All I've heard so far are a few short stories Tiffany has told me."

"Oh…" I gave Tiffany a sideways glance. "Like what?"

"Just how you two met," Vince said. "How she feels when she's around you. That sort of thing."

"That sort of thing…" I now looked at Tiffany with a hint of betrayal in my expression.

"We were just about to go on the hayride," Vince said. "Would you like to join us?"

"Actually…" Tiffany said, bursting into the conversation. "I kind of wanted to talk to you alone Vince." She looked at me with a little hesitation and concern. "About what you said the other night… on the phone."

"Oh… that…" Vince said. "I guess we could find a place more private." He looked around the busy street. "If that's alright with Bailey?"

"I'm sure she won't mind," Tiffany said. She stepped over to Vince, and then turned back to me. "We won't be long. Promise."

Vince gave me a curious look. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I managed to get out in a shaky voice.

"She's probably just cold," Tiffany said, giving me another odd look.

"Actually…" I tried to think up the most insulting thing I could say to Vince at the moment, but nothing came out. The pair looked at me, expecting me to say something.

"You wanted to say something?" Vince finally asked.

Before I could speak, before I could react, I felt someone hook an arm around my left arm. Then almost immediately after, I had an arm around my right arm. I nearly spilled my cider, and my head whipped back and forth to see Megan on one side, and Tawny on the other. Tiffany gave me a pleasant smile, and then slipped her arm around Vince's arm. The two of them hesitated to move for a moment, and I saw my chance to say something get smaller and smaller. When I opened my mouth to protest, I heard another voice instead.

"Bailey you have got to see this!" Megan said.

"But I was just…" I managed to stammer out, as Tiffany and Vince waved, smiled, and walked away from me.

"Before you have a meltdown and cause a scene," Tawny whispered in my ear, as she and Megan dragged me away from the immediate area.

"Can this wait?" I asked.

The two girls shook their heads as they walked me down the street. We eventually stopped and stood, still arm in arm, in a rather secluded area away from the main festival. The few people who passed by were apparently too old to care what three twelve-year-old girls had to discuss. I glanced around. For some reason I actually expected to be shown something. Instead, all I got to see was Tiffany walking toward a booth on the far end of Main Street, her arm now wrapped around Vince's arm.

"What did you want to show me?" I asked, still not catching on.

"That was brutal," Tawny said. "You almost blew it there."

"A few more seconds…" Megan glanced around, and then back at me. "I think your male rage would've taken over."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I can see it in your eyes," Tawny said. "I could hear it in your voice. The disdain. The jealousy."

"You were two seconds short of throwing a jealous fit," Megan said.

"And worse…" Tawny said. "You would've shown yourself as Bailey B, when you're dressed as Bailey G."

"Testosterone overload," Megan said.

I stared longingly at Tiffany and Vince. Megan and Tawny were right. I wasn't only jealous, but I was mad as hell. Who did this guy think he was? Vince… Maybe I wasn't a fighter, but I really felt like punching his lights out. The fact that Tawny and Megan had stopped me, made me feel even worse. It felt like I couldn't even defend my honor, and instead had to retreat with the girls to the sidelines and watch.

"Who the hell is that jerk?" I asked. "And what is Tiffany…" I groaned, worming myself away from the two girls. "Why is she?" I looked down the street. "With him?"

"Calm down," Megan said, putting her hand on my arm.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well it doesn't look like nothing," I said.

"Look…" Tawny said. "You really do need to talk to her about Vince, but you can't do it like this."

"Like what?" I asked. "Jealous boyfriend?"

"Just relax," Megan said, glancing around the street.

"How can I relax?" I asked rhetorically. "My girlfriend is over there with some other boy." I took a staggered breath of cool air. "She's done this before. Who knows how many times, and with what other boys? I don't know if I can trust her." I looked at Tawny. "It's not like I go off and kiss other girls."

"Maybe you should," Tawny said, letting a bit of cynicism creep into her voice.

"Tawny…" Megan's sweet voice, riding upon the slightest hint of being part Korean, had grown reserved and sincere. "Could I talk to Bailey alone?"

"It's a free country," Tawny said. "I'll go bob for apples or something."

Tawny flashed me a smile, and strolled off in the other direction. Megan's right hand slipped into my left. It took me a moment to pull my mind away from what had occurred; at least long enough to stroll a few steps with Megan. My cider had cooled to only slightly warm by then, and I finished most of it before tossing it into a trashcan. Somehow Megan's hand felt warm on this chilly night. In fact her whole demeanor felt warm and inviting.

We walked for a few minutes in silence. Before long the cheering crowds and the other festival sounds drifted into the background, and our footsteps were all that remained. I could no longer smell the homemade breads or candles; only small hints of Megan's perfume hitching rides on the weak gusts of cold October air. The paltry remains of cider left on my tongue had me longing for more. Eventually we stumbled upon a park bench outside of a small barbershop, and we sat together.

"I know our circumstances may not be the same," Megan said, "but I know what you're going through."

"You do?" I asked.

Megan reached out her small hand, and let it rest upon my knee, which I had instinctively crossed over my other knee. "You feel as if you're hanging over a large empty space, about to fall at any moment." Her head dropped. "You have to fall eventually, but any place you could fall may end up hurting yourself or someone you love." She looked back up into my eyes. "You feel like you have to be miserable to make everyone else happy."

"How long did you feel that way?" I asked.

"I still do from time to time," Megan said. "Sometimes it's a struggle to push past it."

"But you do push past it?" I asked.

"Most of the time," Megan said. "There are times I think things would be better if I wasn't the way I was, or had the problems I have." She pulled her hand back to her own lap. "Perhaps I would fit in better."

"You seem to fit in pretty well," I said. "At least that's how I see it."

"But you don't see me all of the time," Megan said. "The other girls…" She sighed. "They can be cruel sometimes."

"What about Rachel and the others?" I asked. "You're pretty popular at school."

"Rachel helped me," Megan said. "She's stood up for me a few times, and helped me try to stand up for myself." She looked up and smiled at me. "I always though that you're supposed to find your friends. Seek them out. That sort of thing. Instead, what I've learned, most of the time, is that good friends find you." She gazed across the street at the empty storefronts. "Those are the friends you hold onto. They're usually the ones that will be there to help you through the storms in your life."

"You've grown a lot," I said, showing a half-smile.

"I guess you could say I've been through a lot," Megan said. "You on the other hand…" She looked into my eyes. "I think most of your journey is in front of you." Her hand moved to my shoulder. "It may be a curse to you, but you get to choose which path you take. I wasn't as lucky."

"You mean you were born this way?" I asked.

"We're all born a certain way," Megan said. "If you're asking was I born a girl… the answer is no." She took her hand away, and looked past me down the street. "I was born male in every technical sense of the word, but my… parts of me… certain things didn't work."

"Oh…" I said, immediately realizing what she meant. "I'm sorry."

"No," Megan said. "Don't feel sorry for me." She gave me a subtle smile. "I'm happy with who I am, or who I eventually will be." Her smile dropped. "You see… those times I think I might be better off without all of my problems, I just remember something." She found my hand with hers, and wormed her fingers around mine. "Those problems… what everyone sees as being 'wrong' with me… those are the things that make me unique."

I smiled, and dropped my head. "It's kind of funny."

"What is?" Megan asked.

"You just reminded me of something a friend said the other night," I said.

"What was that?" Megan asked.

"Oh, something about being myself," I said. "Everyone keeps saying I should find out what's unique about myself."

"Well it's good advice," Megan said. "I'm not going to be one to tell you that you need to find yourself, but I can tell you this." She looked me right in the eyes. "When you do, it's the best feeling ever."

"I wish I knew where to start," I said.

"I think you already have," Megan said.

"I have?"

"Remember our talk at the end of summer?" Megan asked. "When you told me to put myself out there more?"

"Yes," I said. "You certainly did."

"Well," Megan said. "Not right away." Her grip tightened a bit on my hand, reminding me we were still holding hands. "But I thought about what you said that entire night. Then I thought about it the next day, and that day turned into a week." She took a deep breath. "My parents said they wanted to move elsewhere, get me 'fixed', and start me in a new school where I would be better adjusted…" Megan sighed. "I didn't want it. I also realized I just couldn't sit there. I put my foot down."

"Really?" I asked, remembering how she mentioned her parents' philosophy on kids; seen and not heard.

"I'm not broken," Megan said, holding back some pain in her voice. "It hurt for me to say some of the things I said to my parents that day. I'm sure it hurt them to see their child show disrespect. That's the way they made their lives." She paused to glance sideways at the street, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want to just disappear, or slip into the background of another school. They agreed to give me time to adjust. So I started putting myself out there, and it worked for me." She pulled at my hand. "You need to find what works for you."

"I'm just afraid of losing something, or someone…" I said, thinking mostly about Tiffany.

"Maybe you have to lose something you think is dear to you, to find out what truly is dear to you," Megan said.

"Seriously…" I said. "I'm going to have to start calling you fortune cookie."

I flashed Megan a smile, and she returned one of her own. Then the cold took hold of me and I shivered for a moment. Megan slid closer to me, and let her head come to rest on my shoulder. Her hand stayed in mine, and it was beginning to warm mine up a bit. I let my cheek rest on her head. The mixture of coconut and honey permeated my nostrils, rising from her soft silky hair.

Megan smelled good, and felt good. I wondered if my own concoction of soft fragrances drove Nathan as crazy, the other night, as Megan did to me at that moment. If so, I would have to apologize to him profusely, and beg to make it up to him. I tried hard to keep my eyes open, afraid of losing myself in the moment. It was merely a show of friendship Megan offered me, nothing more, and I had to maintain that friendship with her.

"Keeping each other warm?"

We both looked up at Tawny. Her sarcasm managed to sneak into even the honest of questions and moments. She watched us for a moment, and then she grew a smile from ear to ear. In no time at all, Tawny had moved to my right side, and sat on the bench next to me. She pushed herself right up against me, and took my other free hand in both of hers. Megan, as calm as ever, put her head back down on my shoulder. Before I could think of an explanation, or deal with the intrusion, Tawny added to her statement.

"I'm freezing!"

"I told you to bring a jacket," Megan said. "You never listen to me."

"You didn't bring one either," Tawny said.

"I'm wearing layers," Megan said. "Layers or a jacket. You should've worn that cute hoodie I like." Her body heaved, overwhelmed in a feigned sigh. "Never listen. You could catch a cold you know."

"Whatever," Tawny said, blowing out a quick breath in exasperation. "You sound like my mother."

"Well your mother's a smart lady," Megan said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I giggled at the two of them. "You sound like a married couple."

"I swear we are sometimes," Megan said.

"So how are my two favorite girls?" Tawny asked.

"I think we're okay now," Megan said, moving her head to look at me. "Aren't we?"

"I feel a little better," I said. "But…"

"You should talk to Tiffany," Megan said, reading my mind. "Ask her about Vince."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "They are probably just good friends."

"She never mentioned him before," I said.

"Well then nothing was worth mentioning," Tawny said.

I sat and thought about this for a moment. Tawny had a good point. If the guy was really important to Tiffany, then she wouldn't have kept that from me. Then again, I didn't tell Tiffany everything going on in my life. I guess she was entitled to secrets. She certainly allowed me to have some of my own. In fact, she never asked about any of my conversations with Rajan or even Nathan for that matter. I decided to let Tiffany make up her own mind if or when she would tell me about Vince, and moved on to other pressing issues.

"So what's the deal with Danielle and Vanessa?" I asked.

"Oh," Tawny said. "Now that's something to talk about."

"That's right," Megan said. "You weren't there that night."

"We were all out at the movies," Tawny said. "And you know that guy Danielle was talking to at the roller rink?"

"The Nick Carter wannabe?" I asked.

"Yeah him," Tawny said, chuckling a bit at my remark. "Well she really liked him, and was talking about how she wanted to go out with him, and so on and so on." She took a breath. "Anyway… Vanessa didn't know, so we can't really blame her for that, but she made a move on the guy." Her green eyes rolled up to the sky, as she raised her hand to about neck level. "And I do mean she made a move."

"She was all over the guy," Megan said.

"But like I said," Tawny said. "Vanessa didn't know Danielle liked him."

"So when Danielle found out," Megan said, picking up the story. "She confronted Vanessa about it, and they got into a huge argument."

"They were about three few seconds away from going at each others' throats," Tawny said. "Rachel broke it up… sort of."

"Right in the middle of the lobby at the movie theater," Megan said. "Both of them going at it."

"Well we weren't really in the mood for another movie," Tawny said. "At least I wasn't."

"You never are," I said, giving her a smile. "You just like to instigate them."

"You know me," Tawny said. "As much as I like messing with Vanessa, I didn't really care for the way Danielle was treating her."

"Even though she did go after the guy Danielle was interested in," Megan said, "I didn't think it was right either."

"Well she started bringing up old drama about Vanessa," Tawny said. "I mean right in front of people in the lobby. Most of it was stuff that happened in elementary school."

"Like she'd been saving it up all of those years," Megan said. "Vanessa just stood there and took it for awhile. All of those secrets they had and stuff she thought Vanessa did behind her back to cause her to lose friends."

"Anyway," Tawny said. "In an attempt to restore sanity, I tried to calm Danielle down." She let a sigh escape her soft lips. "She thought I was taking Vanessa's side, and started insulting me. I insulted her. Things got out of hand."

"And she eventually told Tawny to shut up and go make out with her lesbian plaything," Megan said. "Pointing me out for all of the people in the lobby."

"I almost took a swing at her for that," Tawny said, lowering her head. "Instead, Rachel stepped in, bringing up all kinds of dirt on Danielle."

"Pretty bad stuff too," Megan said. "Apparently Danielle has an eating disorder, on top of a long list of problems we never knew about."

"Danielle left crying," Tawny said.

"Vanessa even went after her," Megan said. "I mean out of all people… Vanessa…"

"Vanessa said they talked for a long time that night," Tawny said. "Now Danielle won't hardly talk to any of us."

"I think that's what bugs Vanessa the most," Megan said. "She thought they were on a path to restore their friendship, but now she just gets silence from Danielle. Now Vanessa thinks Danielle is starting rumors about her."

"She did mention her other friends not talking to her," I said. "Sucks what happened though."

"Kind of weird between them right now," Tawny said. "I think it even changed Vanessa a little."

"I really haven't noticed," I said. "Of course, it would take a lot to make me notice a change in Vanessa."

"Well I mean… she's not gonna change completely overnight," Tawny said, smiling at me. "She's been taking notice of her flaws lately. Self-examining herself. That sort of thing."

"Please don't tell her we told you all of this," Megan said.

"I really don't want to be involved anyway," I said. "I've got enough to deal with."

"Indeed," Tawny said.

"It's getting pretty late," Megan said. "We should go find your sister Tawny."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm still freezing though."

"Thought you would've warmed up by now," I said. "You two warmed me up."

"Yeah… well you're in the middle," Tawny said. She pushed her head close to mine, and put her nose to my cheek. "Does that feel warm to you?"

Tawny's nose felt like an ice cube on my cheek, except it wasn't wet, thankfully. She managed to touch me a few more times, before I could pull away. Megan joined the fun on the other side, trying to mess with me so that I would be forced to go back to Tawny's cold nose. It worked a few times, until I called for a truce. Tawny went in one last time, but this time she put her lips on my cheek. I still remember her soft lips, and the ever-so-slight trace of stickiness from her lip gloss.

The kiss didn't last long. Though I knew it was more of a token for being a good sport through her teasing, it left me with a strange feeling inside. Before I could recover from the feeling Tawny's kiss gave me, I felt another pair of lips on my left cheek. These lips were softer still, and the kiss lingered a bit longer. The kiss itself felt softer, and it felt like it had deeper meaning behind it than a simple friendly peck on the cheek. My venture into my thoughts at the moment, was cut short by the reentrance of Tawny's voice.

"Let's get some cider on the way back." Tawny looked down at me as she stood. "Was the cider any good?"

I nodded, restraining myself from lifting my hands to my cheeks.

"Well come on then!" Megan said, offering me her hand.

"My treat," Tawny said. "For my two favorite girls."

Tawny's hand reached out for mine. I took it, still lost in a daze from simple kisses. They weren't even sexy kisses, more spur of the moment. If I had moved an inch, they would've probably been painful to the kisser, and a rather sloppy outcome for me. I tried to shake the event from my mind, as Tawny's arm wrapped around my right, and Megan's arm wrapped around my left. Just as they had escorted me before, the two girls escorted me back; to the festivities lining Main Street on that chilly October night.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 6

I honestly didn't know what awaited me that night. Plans had been tossed around for the past few weeks, but nothing solid ever formed. Tiffany's spontaneity seemed refreshing at times. Yet it was the other times that concerned me. Those times when even Tiffany didn't seem to have any sense of direction, I found especially dreadful. However, she always seemed to amaze me, and that's why I went along with the things she did.

It had grown a little cooler in the past week. Tiffany's bus driver had turned the heat on, and the bus felt quite stuffy. Though I thought a few times about cracking the window next to me, I knew it probably wouldn't be appreciated by the other kids. It didn't matter anyway. My mind seemed completely wrapped around the possibilities that awaited me at Tiffany's house. She claimed it would be special, and I had no doubt that it would be. Still, the suspense was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I could now see her house from where the bus stopped upon the hill. Expecting to see Kate's car in the driveway, or even Melanie's, I was surprised to see none at all. Her parents had certainly grown more trustworthy. Unless they didn't know I was coming over after school. I turned my head to look at Tiffany. She simply turned her head and smiled at me. Then she put her hand on my arm.

"This is going to be so much fun tonight," she said. "Did you bring everything?"

I held up a duffle bag, one I had been worried about keeping in my locker all day. Inside of the bag were quite a few questionable items. Paranoia got the better of me around midday, when I started getting this bad feeling that someone might find out what was in it. Now, only one stop away, I would welcome my first breath of fresh air. Maybe I could even relax after I got off the bus.

I'd grown accustomed to the strange looks the other kids gave me. It was as if they knew everything about my condition, but didn't know anything about me personally. They stopped staring when Tiffany would kiss me at school, or when they'd see her take me by the hand. She did that now. I felt her hand wrap around mine, as she dragged me to the front of the bus. She seemed more excited than me, and she could hardly contain it as we stepped down the steps of the bus, and heard the sound of it pulling away.

"I love Halloween!" Tiffany said, still pulling me rather than walking with me.

I had my breath of fresh air, but only momentarily. I didn't get to enjoy it, or savor it. Tiffany and I jogged up her driveway. We stumbled up her front steps. By the time we reached her front door, she already had her house key out. A few seconds later we nearly toppled over into the entryway. The door barely shut before she was all over me.

Tiffany wrapped her arms around me. They slid up my sides, hooking under my own arms. She let her hands creep up my back until they were buried in my hair. Her breathing grew ragged, and I could feel the warmth of it upon my neck as she moved her cheek to mine. She pushed her soft lips against my skin, leaving a delicate kiss on the area in front of my ear. Another kiss followed, more forward on my cheek. Then I felt her lips on mine.

I licked my lips as Tiffany pulled away. The distinctive taste of cherry remained from her lip gloss. While I mused over the fact that I had watched her apply it on the bus, obviously awaiting this moment, Tiffany's lips went back to kissing my left cheek. Like a hummingbird going after nectar, her lips danced upon my skin. They kept going back further, and all I could do was let out a gasp when she licked my earlobe with her tongue.

"Ready to be my girlfriend tonight?" she asked, in a faint, breathy whisper.

Her breath on my ear made me melt. Tiffany had this way about her, which made me feel weak. It wasn't a controlling thing either, as she seldom used it to her advantage. I knew from watching television that some women could get whatever they wanted by turning up the heat a little. However, Tiffany seldom asked anything from me. She definitely had the power over me to do so.

"If it means more of this," I said, "then definitely."

Tiffany pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Maybe we can find a nice quiet spot at the party tonight."

When one of her pretty hazel eyes closed in a slow wink, I knew she was serious about the offer. She really didn't have to go to any trouble at all. Tiffany didn't demand, or even ask for me to go as a girl to Rachel's Halloween party. She merely assumed with the recent events in my life, that I might have fun doing so. I already knew my costume involved a dress, and since I had no other options, I wasn't going to back out of our unspoken arrangement.

"I think you're going to be happy with your costume," Tiffany said, taking the duffle bag from my hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nice try, but it's still a surprise," Tiffany said, moving away from me. "I'll go sort this out." She held up the bag. "Meet me in the dining room please."

I watched her disappear down the hallway and into her room. Then I moved my own small frame into her dining room. As I neared the dining room table, I noticed a whole array of things spread out on top of it. Several bottles of nail polish were set out in a neat row. There were towels and toe spreaders. I marveled at it all as I sat down in one of the chairs. Tiffany came into the room only a few seconds later.

"Unfortunately I did my own nails last night to save time," Tiffany said, holding up shiny, metallic blue painted fingernails. "So you get all of the attention today." She gave me a smile and wink. "I'll make it up to you though."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I said, "but I know you're good for it."

Tiffany smiled, and started perusing some of the items on the small dining room table. She opened boxes, moved bottles and cotton balls around, and made it to where half the table was filled up with just about anything to make nails look perfect. Eventually she had turned the room into a makeshift nail salon. She draped a small towel across the tabletop, and gestured for me to put my hands upon it. I did as requested. My nails looked dull. At Tiffany's request, I had not painted them.

Tiffany took my left hand in her hands. She studied each fingernail for a few seconds, and then brought out some nail clippers. I watched as she carefully cut each nail a little shorter, and made them look more uniform in appearance. Then she repeated the process on my right hand, taking just as much care as before. By the time she finished the last nail, she had already moved a bottle of nail polish remover over.

She dabbed the polish remover on a cotton ball, and set about cleaning my nails. I found it kind of odd, as I had no polish on them. Not even a spot of polish remained, as I had been very thorough. Still, she cleaned them carefully anyway. I soon found out why Tiffany cleaned my fingernails first. While the nail polish remover quickly evaporated from my nails, Tiffany uncovered a small box.

I watched Tiffany remove the contents of the box. Several little clear disc-shaped objects spilled out across the top of the table. As Tiffany pulled out a small bottle of liquid from the box, it finally dawned on me what the objects were. Tiffany had gotten a false nail kit for me. She certainly wanted to make the evening special. A feeling of excitement washed over me, as she started matching the nails up to my own for size.

"I thought you might want an opportunity to try these once in your lifetime," Tiffany said. She looked up at me with a smile. "They're not the best, but you could make them last the weekend if you wanted to."

"I think you're spoiling me," I said.

"I want you to feel special tonight," Tiffany said, lowering her face back down to the task.

"I already do," I said. "I'm with you aren't I?"

Tiffany shot her eyes up to look into mine. She gave me a nervous smile, followed by a very noticeable blush. I definitely caught her off guard with my charm. After lowering her eyes again, she finished matching up the nails. Then she reached for the bottle of glue, and shook it for a minute. Before applying the nails, she looked up at me. She had a solemn look upon her face, like she meant business with what she was about to say.

"These are far from permanent," Tiffany said. "So don't freak out once they're on."

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, amused she would even suggest such a thing.

"Most likely you won't," Tiffany said, "but guys see glue and usually freak."

"I'm enjoying the special attention," I said, reassuring her with a smile.

"Well just the same," Tiffany said, slightly returning the smile. "They can come off by soaking your fingers in warm water for a while." She laid out the nails for each finger. "If you need help, just ask your mom when you get home. I'm sure she knows how to get them off."

"I'm not worried about it," I said. "Don't you go worrying for me."

"Okay, okay," Tiffany said. "I'll just put them on then." She gave the glue one last shake, and then unscrewed the cap from it. "They're going to feel kind of weird. My mom got longer ones than I asked for. I guess she thought they were for me." She shook her head, as if chiding herself. "She overcompensates on everything feminine now, trying to turn me back straight or something by making me more of a girl."

"Tom tried to get me to do manly things to make me more of a man," I said. "So I know how that goes."

"I guess we're a lot alike in that respect," Tiffany said. "People are always trying to change what doesn't need changing. I'm actually pretty girly to start with, but I think these are probably too feminine for even me."

"More feminine is better for me anyway," I said. "Will make me blend in better." I added a nervous chuckle in an attempt to get Tiffany out of her temporary mood, but it failed to hit home.

"I guess that's true," Tiffany said. "Though you don't have to try so hard to blend tonight. It is Halloween after all." She moved the bottle of glue closer, and pulled the little brush from it. "I've only done this once, so bear with me."

Tiffany brushed a small even coat of glue onto the nail of my left pinky. She put the brush back into the bottle, and picked up the corresponding nail to my pinky. With the care of handling a breakable object, she rested the edge of the fake nail against the inside edge of my real nail. Then she pushed it down, and held it for a few seconds. She checked it carefully, and seeming pleased about it, she went on to the next nail.

Right down the line, one by one, Tiffany put a fake fingernail over each of my real nails. I admired my left hand, after she had moved to my right. They felt weird, as Tiffany had said they would. It mostly seemed like extra weight, but also like my real nail wasn't there. I knew they would take some getting used to, but they weren't a horrible feeling. They simply felt different, and different at that time in my life was always something I looked forward to.

"We'll let the glue set up for a minute or two," Tiffany said, removing herself from the table. "Then I'll shape them for you."

I sat there in relative silence for a moment. Tiffany had left the room, most likely to get something else ready. I wiggled my fingers, letting the false nails dance in the dining room light overhead. The nails still felt weird, but now seeing them on both hands, they felt extremely feminine. They were also pretty long, at least by my standards. From the end of my own fingernails, the false ones stuck out almost half an inch. I started to worry about how I would function with them tonight, when Tiffany slipped back into the room.

"I can probably start on the left hand," she said, sliding into her chair.

Tiffany spent a moment digging through her box of nail equipment. She had more things to use on nails than any of the other girls I knew, and I had seen them all do their own nails. While most of them liked painting nails, Tiffany liked grooming hers. She spent great detail at it, as if it were her own personal work of art. No doubt she had the best looking nails among the rest of us.

I thought about this little quirk of Tiffany's, as she spread out files and buffers. It wasn't like an obsession with her, as I had seen her spend as little as two minutes on her nails, but it happened to be a quirk I liked about her. There were several tiny things she did differently, that made her special to me. I mused about this one in particular, as she set about filing my false nails.

She put as much care into shaping my nails, as she put into an extensive session of caring for her own. The tiniest little things she took her time with, made things just a tiny bit better in my opinion. Tiffany liked to dot her I's with little circles. She tittled all of her T's and lowercase F's with a mark that looked like a tilde. It made her letters to me that much more delightful. When she put a heart over the I in my name, I knew it was something special.

"Do you…" Tiffany said, but shaking her head before finishing her thought.

"Do I what?" I asked.

"Nothing," Tiffany said. "I was just…" She put her file down, and placed her hand over it.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to look at her face.

Tiffany reached for another file, and lifted my ring finger up. "Do you think we'll ever be left alone?" she asked.

"We're alone right now," I said.

"No," Tiffany said, filing the rough plastic away at the edge of the nail. "I mean, do you ever think people will leave us alone?"

"You mean stop picking on us?" I asked.

"Yeah…" she said. "Or stop trying to change us."

"Sadly I don't think that will ever happen," I said. "It's like Nathan said. Some people are just out to make other people miserable." I let out a small sigh. "I think sometimes even people who love me don't always have my best interest at heart. And Tom's just a wildcard at the moment."

"Nathan sounds like a nice guy," Tiffany said, obviously steering away from the tougher subject. She reached over to switch files again. "Vince said pretty much the same, but he's optimistic that it'll all change one day."

"You like Vince huh?" I asked, letting disdain creep into my voice.

"He's nice," Tiffany said. "Easy to talk to about stuff."

"Easier than me?" I asked.

"In some ways," Tiffany said. "You're different though." She finished filing the nail on my ring finger, and switched files again for my middle finger. "In a lot of ways."

"I'm different?" I asked. "You mean more girly?"

"Well that's just a small part of it," Tiffany said. "I guess it's because I care about you so much. I can open up to you more, but not everything is easy to talk about with you."

"What about Vince?" I asked.

"What about him?"

"Do you care about him?" I asked.

"Well of course," Tiffany said. "He's a good friend."

She flipped a fallen strand of her black hair from her face, and tilted her head to the opposite side. I didn't want to read too much into that gesture, but it made me recall an article I read. The article was about how women displayed different signs to show they were interested. Needless to say, I shouldn't have been reading the magazine in the first place, but I got bored waiting in Rajan's office, and entertained myself with some random teen magazine.

At any rate, the article claimed a girl might play with their hair when discussing a boy. If they did, it could be a sign that they had a crush on the boy. Recalling the article didn't help put my mind at ease, but Tiffany had just said Vince was a friend. I didn't want to lose it, and start throwing accusations at her. She could have simply been moving pesky hair away from her face so she could work.

"So you like him?" I asked.

"About as much as you like Nathan I suppose," Tiffany said, without looking up to get my reaction.

The truth happened to be that I didn't know which end was up with Nathan. I really liked him, but not in any sort of way that could be misconstrued as an intimate relationship. We were simply close friends, or perhaps not entirely close at all. Tiffany obviously knew this, as I had pointed it out several times to her, but now the issue even confused me a bit. So was I to assume Vince was no more than a good, understanding friend to Tiffany? I couldn't assume. I had to know!

"Do you think he's cute?" I asked.

"Who?" Tiffany asked, looking up at me in surprise. "Vince?"

"No… Nathan," I said. "Of course Vince."

"Well…" Tiffany lowered her head. "I guess so."

"So you don't think he is?" I asked.

"Well maybe just a little bit," Tiffany said.

"How much is a little cute?"

"Hmmm…" Tiffany sighed. "He is cute. I have to give him that at least. Nathan's probably cuter than Vince if you had to choose. You're way more cuter than both of them though." She hesitated to go back to filing my nails. "What do you think?"

"About?"

"Vince," Tiffany said. "Do you think he's cute?"

Obviously Tiffany had misunderstood my prodding questions as girl talk. We were now officially discussing boys, and whether or not they were cute. Being in with a group of girls had gotten me quite accustomed to this ritual. While I was in my female persona around the girls, all bets were off. They never made me feel uncertain of my sexuality, as they deemed me a girl, and therefore I was free to discuss boys with them. Still, I always had this voice in the back of my mind telling me not to get too involved with the discussions.

"He's okay," I said.

"Oh come on," Tiffany said, looking up at me. "Just okay?"

"Okay he's cute," I said. "Not my type though."

"So now you have a type?" Tiffany asked, a smile quickly spreading on her face. "Is Nathan more your type?"

"I didn't mean it that way," I said. "He's a bit too… I don't know… preppy for my taste."

"Lies!" Tiffany said, shaking her head. "You like preppy." She put her head back down to finish my thumbnail. "If preppy had lips, you'd be making out with it."

"That's so unfair," I said.

"Maybe just a little unfair," Tiffany said. "I can't blame you though. I like the preppy look too."

"Like Jillian the other night?"

"She was too cute in that outfit," Tiffany said. She paused on my nails for a moment, and sighed. Most likely she was picturing Jillian. "But we were talking about Vince," she said, snapping herself back to attention.

"Do you…" I took a deep breath. "Do you want to go out with him?"

Tiffany dropped the nail file onto the table. "Are you crazy?" she asked, looking up at me.

"You seem to like being around him," I said.

"Of course," Tiffany said, going back for her buffing stick. "We're friends. I like being around all of my friends. Not like we're…" She stopped to look up at me. "Is that what you thought?"

"Huh?"

"You thought we were on a date the other night," Tiffany said. "That's what you thought… And I kind of ran off and ignored you." She pulled my hand into hers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you thought that way." She started to run her other hand up my arm. "We're just friends, I swear."

"So you don't…"

"Not in the slightest," Tiffany said. "Sorry I've been kind of neglecting you lately. I should have told you."

"Told me what?" I asked.

"Vince…" She took a deep breath. "I've been going to counseling." She sighed. "My mom put me up to it. It's a group thing. Some place for me to discuss my 'lesbian tendencies' as she puts it." Tiffany let out another long sigh. "She still thinks she can cure me, and I'm probably too young to even be thinking about all of it."

"I know the feeling," I said, thinking of Tom and Rajan in the back of my mind. "I don't even understand half the time what I'm dealing with."

"I know it's been an eye opener for me," Tiffany said. "Most of what we talk about is pretty mature. There's some high school kids in the group even." She let a little air pass through her lips. "Makes me feel older than I am, but it's a new perspective."

"So that's how you met Vince?" I asked, trying to get her mind off of whatever made her sigh. I felt bad knowing this was partly a result of my spending the night on the Fourth of July.

"Well Vince is in my group," Tiffany said. "And believe me… you're more his type than I am."

"What?"

"Vince is gay," Tiffany said, giggling a bit about it.

"Wait! Really?"

Tiffany nodded. "But don't spread it around like Danielle would." She set about buffing my nails. "I don't think he's ready for the whole school to know about it."

"I know how that feels too," I said.

"You should come to our group," Tiffany said. "There's some pretty nice people there. A few go to our school, but I totally trust them."

"I don't know," I said.

"Thought I would offer," Tiffany said.

"I'm finding it hard enough to talk to Rajan half the time," I said. "I don't know about a group of people our age."

"Well I won't push you into it," Tiffany said.

"Hold on…" I said. "Vince said he heard a lot about me. Does he know?"

"He… does," Tiffany said. She bit her lower lip as she looked up at me. "I know I promised I wouldn't tell anyone else, but then I couldn't stop talking about you. He kept wanting to know more about my relationship with you, so I kept telling him more." She took a quick breath. "Eventually he put it all together and realized it was you. I had to say something so he'd keep it to himself." Her eyes grew watery. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "How could you hide it?" I laughed a bit. "I mean… here you're telling him that you're a lesbian, and kissing a boy at school."

"Yeah…" Tiffany said. "And you're way too special to keep to myself."

"Thanks," I said, blushing a bit. "You're special to me too."

"Thank you," Tiffany said.

"Wait…" I closed my eyes for a moment. "That means the others in your group know about me by now."

"I've never asked," Tiffany said, "but I assume they do. They never bring it up either."

"So you think more people know I'm a girl on the weekends?" I asked, opening my eyes and letting out a sigh. "At this rate I might as well come out."

"No don't do that," Tiffany said. "That's something you need to be totally sure about."

"Is this what's been bugging you recently?" I asked.

"Well… that," Tiffany said. "Among other things."

"What things?"

"Have you…" Tiffany shook her head again, a habit I had noticed becoming more frequent. She seemed to be second-guessing herself more. "Do you ever think about being a girl?"

"Isn't that obvious?" I asked, trying to be cute.

"I'm serious," Tiffany said. "I mean really considered it."

"I have," I said. "I even asked Rajan to stop testosterone treatments."

"Really?" Tiffany asked, looking up at me. Her face displayed a genuine aura of excitement at the news. "You never said anything about that."

"Well," I said. "It's pretty recent. I'm going back to his office Monday to discuss it."

"Are you going to start female hormones?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I said. "We're going to look at what's down the road."

"Do you want to be a girl?"

"I've thought about it," I said. "I'm still not sure."

"I still think you'd make a cute girl," Tiffany said. "Cuter even than the real girls we hang out with."

"I think you're biased," I said.

"Maybe a little," Tiffany said, "but I'm also being honest."

"I guess I'll just have to see what Rajan thinks Monday," I said.

Tiffany nodded. "Seriously though… I think you and Tawny have the most going for you, as far as looks."

"Really?" I asked. "Tawny?"

"Oh yeah," Tiffany said. "She's right behind you in the cute race."

"Maybe if she'd drop the Goth look," I said.

Tiffany giggled a bit. "No, that's not Goth. That's like skater crashing into grunge."

I had to laugh at her remark. It was true enough. Tawny had the attitude and everything, but she never looked quite right in the style she was going after. That is to say if she was even going for a particular style to begin with. Though Tiffany did confirm one thing I secretly thought about on my own. Somewhere beneath the messed up style and cynicism, there was definite beauty in Tawny.

"I sometimes wish she'd let it out," I said, realizing my thought had entered the realm of spoken word.

"Who?" Tiffany asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"You're talking about Tawny aren't you?" Tiffany asked.

"I was just picturing…" I looked into Tiffany's curious eyes. "Yes. I'm talking about Tawny."

"So you're thinking exactly what I'm thinking," Tiffany said. "You'd like to see Tawny all dolled up for a change?"

"It couldn't hurt," I said.

"Well…" Tiffany grinned at me. "If Megan got her way tonight, you might get your chance."

"Really?"

"Megan is in charge of their costumes. Guess we'll see," Tiffany said, as she looked over at the clock. "I better get busy finishing these," she said. "We still have to paint them."

Tiffany soon became engrossed in filing and buffing my fake nails. She had no problem picking up the pace, and soon had files flying from one hand to the other. I simply sat and watched her, trying to pick up some tips as she worked. As I sat there in silence, I thought about the question she asked. Did I want to be a girl? It was definitely something I was willing to discuss, but I decided it best to leave it up to the professionals.

The minutes to follow seemed like a blur. Between small talk and even smaller jokes, Tiffany managed to get my nails filed, buffed and ready for painting. She cleaned up a few of the items she dragged out to work on them with, and put them off to the side. In keeping with the spirit of letting her do my entire costume, I let her pick the nail color as well. She gathered up what she needed to paint them, and then gave me an odd look.

"What?" I asked.

"I just can't believe you're doing this tonight," Tiffany said, stepping over behind my chair.

"Going to a party?" I asked, jokingly.

"You know what I mean," Tiffany said. "If you knew how much this meant… to let me do your costume…" She put her arms around me from behind, and bent down to rest her chin on my head. "This is going to be a fun night. I can tell."

"I'm excited about it," I said.

"Well we should stop wasting time then," Tiffany said, quickly removing herself from around me. "Could you turn your chair please?" She stepped around the table. "It'll make it easier for me to paint your toenails."

"Sure," I said, standing from the chair. "Did you decide on a color yet?"

"I did," Tiffany said, "but first…"

She stepped over to where I was standing, and quietly turned me around to face her. Before I could realize which way I was facing, Tiffany had her arms up and around my neck. I nearly lost my balance, as she almost fell into my arms. It was like her body went limp, and she hung on my neck and shoulders. The shift in balance caused me to reach out, for anything, to steady myself.

I ended up holding Tiffany around the waist. She pushed nose beneath my chin, and used it to push my head back. A sigh escaped me, as her soft lips kissed up my neck and chin. They kept ascending, until finally they reached my own lips. We didn't kiss. Instead, Tiffany held back from me, not letting our lips touch. My need to kiss her led to her walking me away from my chair.

She took my wrists. I felt my arms moving up, but all of my attention was focused on stealing a kiss. Tiffany would not kiss me though. I vaguely remember her hands sliding back down my extended arms. They slithered down my sides, and slipped in underneath my shirt. Now I knew her intent, and I gladly let her take my shirt off. By the time my shirt had slipped from over my head, Tiffany's lips were back, hovering an inch away from mine.

I could hardly contain the urge to just lunge forward to kiss her. It kept growing inside of me. Tiffany must have seen it in my eyes, for when I attempted to steal a kiss, she moved back just out of reach. I tried again, and my lips met the index finger of her right hand. She pushed the finger against my lips, and from behind it her head slowly shook back and forth.

A moment later, Tiffany's hand went for the zipper and button of my baggy jeans. Once the waistband gave slack, the jeans slid down easily over my pink panties. Tiffany smiled when she saw them on me. I wore them under everything, not only for the sake of convenience, but also the fact I didn't want to be completely nude in front of her, or Kate for that matter. For a moment I imagined how embarrassing it would be for Tiffany's older sister to see me naked.

Though Tiffany had seen me naked, it still felt uncomfortable to be that vulnerable. Right now she had an unfair advantage, as she stood totally clothed in jeans and a green hoodie. She hadn't even removed her green Converse All-Stars, let alone anything else she had on. Kate would've been fully clothed as well, making the situation even more humiliating. I couldn't deal with two girls standing over my naked body.

Tiffany seemed to marvel at the fact that I still couldn't grow any hair on my body. At least it appeared that way, as she stooped down to look over my smooth legs. She ran her hands down my legs, gazing upon them with genuine curiosity. Maybe she thought I should have hair on them by now, or maybe she thought I shaved them for the occasion. My jeans pooled at my feet, and Tiffany helped me step out of them, as she slid my sneakers off.

"How much time do we have?" I asked.

"Not enough," Tiffany said. "The party's at seven, and we haven't really even started yet."

"I meant how much time alone?" I asked.

"Definitely not enough for what you're thinking," Tiffany said, giving me a sly grin.

"You don't even know what I'm thinking," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"I think it's safe to assume," Tiffany said, pushing me back into my chair. "And if you were thinking what I think you were thinking, I think you better stop thinking about it." She started slipping my ankle socks off. "Because I don't think I would be able to think clearly enough to finish what we're supposed to be doing, if we started thinking about the other thing."

"What are we supposed to be doing?" I asked, hoping she'd forgotten already. "Because I think we could find time."

"Kate's bringing Melanie over," Tiffany said, as she put her hands on my thighs. "They're going to help us with our hair, but she said to have your nails done before they get here. So we have even less time than I think we do."

"I could do my own," I said. I noticed the vague look upon Tiffany's face, and thought it warranted further explanation. "My mom showed me how to do a few styles."

"Oh…" Tiffany said. "Your hair. That's awesome!" She smiled at the newfound information. "But they're going to do a whole… thing… curls and stuff."

"You really went all out for this," I said. "Getting your sister involved."

"I told you I wanted to make it special for you," Tiffany said, using my naked thighs to push herself back to a standing position. "Incase you decide you don't want to next year." She gathered up my clothes. "Melanie and Kate volunteered to be honest. I didn't really have to ask them."

"They get a kick out of this don't they?" I asked.

"They really do," Tiffany said. "Kate really likes you. She thinks it's fun that you're willing to dress, and Melanie…" She lifted my sneakers and put them on top of the pile of my clothes in her arms. "Well… her boyfriend is that macho type that thinks it challenges his masculinity or something. Her words, not mine. So I guess it's fun for her to have someone to play around with too."

"Should I get dressed or something?" I asked, suddenly calling attention to my own nakedness.

"I don't want your costume to get ruined," Tiffany said. "We're all used to seeing panties and bras, but if you're uncomfortable, I could get my robe for you."

"Can't I just put my clothes back on?" I asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

"No silly!" Tiffany said. "Then they might get ruined. Besides, we'll lose the spirit of things." She stepped over to the doorway of the dining room. "We still have to paint those nails. Your toes too. Then Melanie might decide to wash your hair when she gets here." She paused to take a breath. "I'll get you my robe."

I couldn't argue, nor could I do anything about my predicament. Even if I wanted to throw my clothes back on, I couldn't anyway. She had left the room already, taking them with her, most likely to her room. I knew I wasn't allowed in her room unless someone was home to watch us. If her parents found out, she'd be in big trouble. It all wasn't worth getting Tiffany in trouble, especially on Halloween.

However, what if her parents came home now and found me in my current state. Little could be said in my own defense of why I was sitting in their dining room in nothing but panties. I hoped Tiffany got back with the robe very soon. Even Kate and Melanie would think this was odd. I was almost ready to go meet Tiffany halfway, when she came back through the kitchen. She carried, over her arm, a white robe with small floral decorations around every hem.

"It's kind of girly, but…" Tiffany looked at me with an amused smile.

"I'm not complaining," I said.

"I put your school clothes in your duffel bag," Tiffany said. "You can change at Rachel's to go home if you want, or just wear your costume home." She gestured for me to stand up. "Either way, the costume's yours to keep."

"I'll probably just wear it home," I said. "It's Halloween anyway, so I'm not worried about Tom."

Tiffany smiled, and walked the robe over to me. "Be careful with your nails," she said, as she held the robe up for me. "Catching them on something like this will hurt like crazy." She quickly yanked the robe away. "Wait! I got an idea!"

Tiffany tossed the robe onto the back of another chair, and scurried out of the room. Once more I waited, unsure how long it would be until she returned. This time I didn't wait long at all, as she burst back into the dining room. She had what appeared to be a one-piece swimsuit in her hands. It had navy blue and white horizontal stripes covering the entire piece. Tiffany held it out to me.

"It goes underneath your costume anyway," she said. "I thought the extra coverage might be more comfortable for you."

"Thanks," I said, taking the item of clothing from her, and looking it over. "Are we going swimming?"

"I tried to find just a bodysuit for it," Tiffany said, "but they didn't have one in our size. I mean your size." She gathered the robe up in her arms. "So Kate suggested a swimsuit." She nodded toward my panties. "And you can wear it without those. It'll be less bulky that way."

Her suggestion made me a little nervous. I felt like she wasn't exactly hinting at me to take them off, but rather telling me. So my initial reaction was to move to the bathroom to change. Then I noticed Tiffany looked on at me with an anxious, yet curious glint in her hazel eyes. My panties were the last little thin cotton piece of defense I had left. I think she wanted me to take them off right there in front of her. She had seen everything I had to offer before, but now she seemed interested in seeing it again.

"It's not mandatory," Tiffany said. "Just think you'd be more comfortable without them."

"Uh…" I glanced around the room. "I'd feel less comfortable without them right now."

"There's nobody here," Tiffany said. "Besides, I've seen it before."

"I know…" I looked into her eyes. "It just feels… I don't know…"

"You want me to turn around?"

"No," I said. "It's okay."

"It's not like I'm going to stare," Tiffany said. "Just go for it. Get it over with."

Her abrupt words of somewhat expressionless encouragement got me moving. Once the panties slipped over my hips, I had no more hesitation. Sure, I was nervous as hell, but now they were already coming off. Another few inches and they just dropped lifelessly to the floor. Tiffany didn't stare, but she did glance. I knew she wouldn't be able to constrain herself from getting a peak. I would have done the same had it been her in my position.

The whole scenario felt so straightforward that my mind wandered more than Tiffany's eyes. For some reason I wanted her to take advantage of the situation. It was an odd feeling, and one I never felt before with anyone else. However, with her totally clothed, and me totally nude, I wanted her to start making out with me. I wanted her to tease me into a frenzy like she had done so many times before.

Before I knew it, I had the swimsuit sliding up my legs. Tiffany watched me dress, but her expression didn't change much. I was pretty sure she got in a few more glances of a certain object between my legs, but I didn't want to call her on it. The swimsuit wasn't exactly my size, and Tiffany soon came over to help me get it on. It seemed to be squishing me everywhere.

"It's not as stretchy as some of the other swimsuits," Tiffany said, as she pulled the straps over my shoulders. "I got the same size as the one you wore this summer, but that one had more give."

"It is a little tight," I said.

"Well…" She gave the swimsuit a tug and pulled it up my body another inch. "You want it to be tight in certain… areas." Her eyes moved down.

"I guess that's true," I said. "It's not uncomfortable though."

"I didn't think it would be," Tiffany said. "Plus Kate decided to add the extra padding, so you won't have your breasts moving."

"Always a plus," I said. "Can't have breasts roaming around on me."

Tiffany smiled, shaking her head. She gave the swimsuit a few more minor adjustments, including a light smoothing rub between my legs. Then she turned to get her robe and held it up for me to slip on. After my hands came through the sleeves, she wrapped it around me while embracing me from behind. We stayed like that for a moment, her hugging me, and me holding her arms around me. Eventually she tied the belt of the robe for me, and then motioned for me to sit again.

It didn't take long at all for Tiffany to decide my toenails needed a little work. I'd been trying to keep up with them on my own, but I admit I'd neglected them a few times. Tiffany knew more about it than I did at any rate. She busied herself with trimming, shaping and filing, as I looked on and enjoyed the pampering. Why she cared so much about fixing something up that would never be seen tonight, was beyond me.

"You should get a pedicure before winter hits," Tiffany said. "Kate takes me to this great place at the mall." She looked up and smiled. "You're welcome to come."

"I'll think about it," I said, thinking more about not wanting to be seen in a nail salon by kids in our class.

Tiffany went back to the small task at hand. I say small because I did take decent care of my nails. In no time at all she had my toes in her lavender spreaders and finally unveiled her mystery color. She picked fuchsia. I wasn't too surprised about it, as she normally went for shades of pink on me. It was just hard to imagine these large talons now on my fingers as being bright pink.

Normally I got into this more. I'd gotten used to painting my own nails, and liked to do so at least twice a week. When someone else did them, like Tiffany, I felt pampered and special. Maybe she knew this, and added it as one more thing to make me feel special. The only problem was the fact it was all lost on me today. It didn't feel the same as it had so many times before. False nails aside, today it felt like any other day when I would paint them myself.

I watched Tiffany. She didn't take her time, but neither did she do a hasty job. Maybe it was because of this that it felt more like a natural occurrence than something unique. It felt like business as usual, like a girl simply helping another girl out with her nails. Something about it felt routine. Was it no longer special to me, or had I crossed some point where it felt like this is just what girls do?

Maybe I wanted to be a girl more than I thought. It would definitely be something to discuss with Rajan on Monday. Perhaps I'd come so close to barriers on things that the barriers started to disappear. I don't think Tiffany noticed the change either. How could she possibly know the inner workings of my mind? How could she know that something she thought as a special event, had turned into further evidence that I should be a girl?

"You probably won't get to do this as often pretty soon, huh?" Tiffany asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Tiffany finished up my last two toes. "You're going to have gym next semester." She stood to get the hand towel off of the table, and draped it across my lap. "Probably better that you don't have them all painted up for the guys to see."

"I'll just wear socks to cover them," I said.

"Well you can't wear socks in the shower," Tiffany said, giggling.

"True," I said, "but it's last period. I can shower at home."

"What if they make you shower?"

"I don't think they do that anymore," I said. "Some law against it."

"There's no law against it," Tiffany said, laughing at the suggestion.

"Then I'll see the first week," I said.

"Better safe than sorry."

Tiffany had me put my hands on the towel. After pulling a chair over, she started painting my fingernails. She went a bit slower on them, taking her time to make them look nice. They would be seen after all. My toenails were just like a little added bonus, a secret beneath everything that only Tiffany and I knew about. Thinking about it that way, made it seem a little more special to me.

"I wish I could just stay in art class," Tiffany said. "I have to take gym too."

"Art is by far more fun to me," I said. "I won't get to see you, Tawny or Vanessa either."

"Not unless we do coed stuff," Tiffany said. "And according to Tracy, that only has happened a few times this semester for her." She looked up at me suddenly. "Hey! You'll get a chance to get to know Vince at least."

"Oh," I said. "He got stuck with gym then too?"

"I think we all pretty much did," Tiffany said. "About half of our art class is going to be in gym."

"That's not going to be too bad then," I said. "Except the other half worries me."

"You'll be fine," Tiffany said. "Just act all competitive and they'll think you're one of the guys."

"Way to stereotype," I said.

Tiffany and I shared a slight laugh. Our small little conversation had nearly taken us through the task of her painting my nails. She finished up on three more, and then left the room with my panties in her hand. While Tiffany was out of the room, I heard her front door open. Then I heard Kate's voice as she loudly conversed with someone with her. Melanie's voice rang out in response to Kate's, and the two of them continued to talk down the hallway to Kate's room.

A moment of silence passed. It seemed boring to me, to sit by myself waiting for someone to come into the room. I had the urge to go greet the two high school ladies, but figured I'd somehow mess up Tiffany's hard work. So I sat. I sat with nothing to do, but wait for the paint to dry, or rather the polish. If I strained a bit, I could hear the three talking softly in the other room.

"Well where is she?" Kate asked, somewhere close to the kitchen.

"Dining room," Tiffany yelled to her sister.

"There's my girly girl!" Kate said, as she strolled through the kitchen.

Kate's hair looked amazing. She had told me what she planned to do with it, but I'd forgotten. Her silky black hair had been put up into flowing tresses of endless curls. They bounced as she hurried over to me. I suddenly recalled our discussion about her getting Pam, Melanie's mother, to do her hair. Then I recalled her saloon girl outfit, and how amazing it would probably look now with the hair.

"Not very talkative," Kate said. "Are you in shock?"

"I was just…" I looked up at her, my eyes probably straining in their sockets. "Your hair looks amazing."

"Aw," Kate said. "Thanks." She put her hand up to lightly touch it. "So you like the curls?"

"I love them!" I said.

"Good!" Kate said, somewhat mocking my excitement. "Because Melanie's going to give you more than you can handle." She looked down. "Ooh, the nails came out great. Let me see!"

"Don't touch them!" Tiffany said, bursting through the door. "I just got them painted."

"What have you been doing all of this time?" Kate asked, raising an eyebrow at her sister.

"The false nails took longer than I thought they would," Tiffany said, giving me a knowing look. "I need to give everything another coat."

"Why don't you let me finish up?" Kate asked. "Melanie can start on your hair."

"Work, work, work," Melanie said, coming into the kitchen. "My job is never finished. Hey Bailey."

"Hi Melanie," I said, a bit shyly. It wasn't everyday that pretty high school girls addressed me.

"You haven't even started your job," Kate said.

"And who put all the bells and whistles on your costumes?" Melanie asked.

"She's been busy," Tiffany said, more to me than Kate.

"I know," Kate said. "I'm just giving her a hard time."

I couldn't help sneaking a peak at other areas of Kate's body, as the three of them quibbled. She had on a pair of short, tight jean shorts, and a rather snug blue turtleneck sweater that left little to the imagination. Her legs sprung from her shorts like tightly coiled springs, clad in black nylon tights and showing off every little bit of muscle. Kate had amazing legs, even in sneakers, and her only rival in the room at the moment happened to be Melanie.

Melanie cheated, however, with her constant wearing of three or four inch heels. They made her legs seem more sculpted. Together with the light sheen of her pantyhose, Melanie's legs stood out beneath her flowing green and blue plaid skirt. Her sweater happened to be more modest than Kate's. It was light gray, a bit loose on her, and had one of those oversized collars that could be slipped off the shoulders. Though Melanie wore it like a proper lady.

"Well let's get you started," Melanie said, holding out her hand to wave Tiffany forward. "I'll be back to fix your hair up Bailey."

"Looking forward to it," I said, giving Melanie a pleasant smile.

Kate stepped over and turned the dining room light up on high. "Are you excited about tonight?" she asked.

"I'm a little nervous," I said.

"Why's that?" Kate asked, as she carefully lifted my feet onto her lap.

I watched her pick up the nail polish and start on my toenails before responding to her. "I know it's Halloween," I said, "and you can dress up and pretend to be something you're not."

Kate finished another toenail, and then looked up at me. "You don't feel like you're pretending?"

"I used to feel like I was," I said. "Now I just feel like I'm pretending to be someone that's pretending to be someone I'm not." I paused for a moment to think about what I said. "Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense to me," Kate said. "Maybe not the way you said it, but I understand." She finished one foot, and went on to the next with the fuchsia nail polish. "You're thinking you feel more like a girl, pretending to be a boy sometimes?"

"Sometimes," I said. "But tonight I feel like I'm having to be a girl who's pretending to be a boy pretending to be a girl."

"Are you saying you're afraid of enjoying it?" Kate asked, finishing another toenail.

"Something like that," I said.

"Well that's just silly," Kate said. "You should enjoy this night more than anything." She started on the next toenail. "All bets are off on Halloween. I say you go out and play the part. Have fun with it."

"You mean actually be a girl?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Kate said. "This is probably the one night of the year you can fall into character and nobody will care one way or the other." She finished up another toenail. "I just wish it was like that all the time for you."

"So I shouldn't try so hard to hide my true feelings?" I asked.

"No," Kate said. "Have fun! In fact, you'd be better off letting your feelings out tonight. It'll make you appear more natural." She paused before painting the last nail. "I mean, don't be stupid, but do make the most of it."

"I won't do anything stupid," I said, smiling at her.

"And Tiff was right," Kate said, looking at my feet. "You could use a pedicure." She looked at me and smiled. "I'll take you both. My treat."

"You really don't have to do that," I said.

"I insist," Kate said. "We'll make a day of it. Lunch and a movie, or something." She patted my bare legs. "It'll be fun."

"Do I have a choice?" I asked.

"Nope," Kate said, giving me a grin.

Kate helped me ease my feet back to the floor, and then she repositioned her chair. She had me put my legs under her chair, so that my feet rested against the cross rail in the middle. I found that with my heels on the floor, and the balls of my feet resting on the rail, there was very little chance of me messing my nails up. It was a rather clever technique. Kate situated herself so that she sat straddling my legs and facing me.

"Tiff did a pretty nice job on these," Kate said, examining my fake nails. "Think I'll put another coat on them, and a top coat on everything." She reached for the bottle of fuchsia polish. "It'll have plenty of time to dry while Melanie does your hair."

I didn't offer any resistance, as I'd gotten tired of fighting girls today. Instead I tried to maintain control, as every time Kate shifted forward to paint a nail, her tights would rub against my bare legs. Not only that, but each time she leaned forward, my nose would detect a light hint of her perfume. Mixed with the scent of the nail polish, I felt like Kate had trapped me in some sort of lair of femininity. I pictured her, for a brief moment, holding me against my will, and using her feminine wiles to keep me prisoner.

"You know…" Kate said, as she carefully put an even coat of polish on my right middle nail. "If you're ever serious about not pretending anymore, our offer to teach you still stands."

"Teach me?" I asked, still trying to climb out of my daydream.

"To be more feminine," Kate said. "Remember Melanie and I talked about it with you?"

"Oh," I said. "Right." I watched Kate finish up my index nail, and move to my thumb. "Like I said, you'll be the first person I go to."

"In all seriousness," Kate said. "We'd be more than willing to help you."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," Kate said. "Just let us know."

Kate looked up at me with a genuine smile upon her face. She leaned over closer to me. Her perfume overpowered the smell of the nail polish for a brief moment. Soon her lips, soft as a rose petal, were pressed against my forehead. I didn't know what to do. All I could think to do was shut my eyes. My girlfriend's sister was kissing me! I started to panic, thinking any moment Tiffany would walk in and see us, but then Kate removed herself and went back to painting my nails.

"I like you girly girl," Kate said. "You're like another sister, or slightly effeminate brother to me." She paused before painting the next fingernail. "And I don't mean the latter to be insulting. So I hope you don't take offense."

"I don't," I said. "I mean, it doesn't bother me much anymore."

"Less talky, more do-y," Melanie said, strolling through the kitchen.

"I was just telling Bailey that our offer to train her still stands," Kate said.

"Oh," Melanie said. "Does she want to?"

"No," I said. "I mean, not at the moment, but I'm considering it."

"Okay," Melanie said. "Sure though. No problem. Just let us know if you want to start, and we can start whenever."

"What do you need?" Kate asked, watching Melanie dig through a bag.

"I'm looking for the ribbon," Melanie said.

"It's in the bag on my bed," Kate said. "Did you figure out what to do with the front?"

"I just gave her curls off to the side," Melanie said. "I think your mom would flip if we cut her bangs."

"Probably," Kate said. "Might be too tomboyish for her." She turned back to look at me, and rolled her eyes. "How much longer you got in there?"

"Not much longer," Melanie said. "Should I do one or two ponytails?"

"I think one," Kate said. "Go for the classic."

"Alrighty," Melanie said. "I'll be back to go all Shirley Temple on Bailey."

I waited until Melanie left the room before I said anything. "What did she mean by that?"

"What?" Kate asked.

"Who's Shirley Temple?" I asked.

Kate stopped what she was doing. She abruptly looked up at me. With her eyes she searched for any inclination that I might be joking. Her face carried a solemn look, like she hadn't understood my question. I thought that maybe I should interject and claim I was only kidding, but perhaps I'd waited a bit too long on it. She already knew I was serious.

"You don't know who Shirley Temple is?" Kate asked.

"Should I?"

"Well…" Kate said. "It's probably not going to be on any history exam, but it wouldn't hurt for you to know." She went back to painting my fingernails. "She was an actress, mostly known for stuff she did as a kid, but also known for the big curls in her hair." She finished the nail she was working on. "That's what Melanie meant by it. She's going to give your hair great big bouncy curls."

"Well now I know," I said.

"And don't you forget it!" Kate said.

I laughed a bit at her fake seriousness. She finally finished my fingernails, and after checking my toenails, decided to put a top coat on them. I honestly didn't need a top coat, as they weren't going to be seen all night. One of the few things I knew about my costume, was that it was being worn with white tights and my silver ballet flats. That's how I knew not one toenail would be seen all night long.

Kate continued to offer small talk with me, asking me about school and home. I asked her a few questions about high school, to which her answers surprised me a bit. Everything sounded bigger and better, yet the classes sounded harder and longer. Still she got my hopes up for more variety in choosing the classes. She finished my toenails, and I pushed my feet back under her chair.

Melanie returned to the dining room soon after. While she set up curling irons and other hair products, Kate talked to her about something that had happened that day, or the day before. I felt completely out of the conversation, so I sat there in silence. As I recall, it did involve something about a boy Kate seemed interested in. She never mentioned him by name, but from various clues I concluded the boy to be an athlete of sorts. Oh, and he was charming apparently.

"We can probably put the top coat on now," Kate said, carefully checking my fake nails. "Then I gotta help Tiff with makeup."

"Better get started on your hair," Melanie said.

I soon felt girls attacking me from all angles. Kate busied herself with brushing a shiny clear coat over my fake nails, while Melanie went through my hair with a brush. It felt like she was trying to pull my hair out, as she brushed it all up. She called it teasing, but it felt more like bullying. It didn't get any better, as she pulled large strands at a time up and twisted them around a curling iron.

I started to wonder how girls ever managed to abuse themselves like this and still put on a smile when all was said and done. Then I started to recall them taking a lot longer to get ready. Maybe most of that time was spent consoling themselves. Kate finished my nails, and with a pat on my thigh, she left me to be tormented by Melanie. I pushed myself to steal a peak at her legs when she left the room.

Melanie didn't seem too talkative. I hadn't seen her in awhile, so I figured she'd want to catch up. However, she seemed like she was dealing with something of her own. I didn't really know what to say to her, other than mindless conversation. Not that it mattered anyway, as soon she had the hairdryer going. I guess conversation was pretty much out at that point. Instead, I just sat back and tried to endure the torture of looking beautiful.

Minutes passed, seeming like hours. My hair flopped around like a fish in a boat. It was everywhere. Melanie was everywhere. She moved about in a frenzy, curling, brushing, wetting and blow-drying my hair. Maybe I mistook her silence as concentration rather than disinterest. She probably just wanted to do a good job.

"Oh wow," Kate said, yanking my attention toward the doorway of the kitchen. "That looks adorable."

"I gotta say," Melanie said. "Bailey has some amazingly workable hair. It does just about anything you want it to do."

"But that's incredible," Kate said. "I thought Tiff's looked good, but…" She stepped over to get a closer look. "Wow. Just wow."

To be honest the compliment kind of scared me. I didn't exactly want to be the "wow" of the party. In fact, I wanted the least amount of attention at the party. My only hope in this endeavor, was that Kate was being overly nice in her compliments. Maybe my hair just looked good, and wasn't the "wow" factor she built it up to be. Perhaps other people would just see it as a nice hairstyle.

"I think I went overboard," Melanie said, suddenly squashing my hopes. "Think I went all homecoming queen on her hair, when she just needed a cute hairstyle."

"No," Kate said. "I love it!" She set a makeup case next to me on the table. "And who knows when or if she'll ever want to do this again."

Before I could find some excuse to get up and look at my hair, Kate had sat down across from me. Her legs straddled mine once more, and she pulled her chair even closer. Melanie pulled up a chair to sit next to me. Her knee brushed against my thigh as she crossed her legs. She played with my hair, making a few quick fixes. I could feel the weight and recoil of big bouncy curls on my head.

"Girly girl here didn't even know about Shirley Temple," Kate said, as she sorted out makeup.

"You're kidding," Melanie said. "I thought everyone knew about her."

"Kids these days," Kate said, smiling at me.

"In all fairness," I said. "I don't watch a lot of television."

"Still…" Kate looked at me. "Shirley Temple…"

"I think we did her justice," Melanie said, playing with my hair.

"Definitely," Kate said. "Now we need to figure out makeup." She studied my face for a moment. "Older, or stick with her youthful innocence?"

"What did you do for Tiffany?" Melanie asked.

"Total awesomeness!" Tiffany said, bursting into the room.

I looked up to see a slightly older version of Tiffany. Her hair had been pulled up into a high centered ponytail, with half a roll of light blue ribbon wrapped tightly around it four to five inches up. Melanie had wrapped the ribbon around the base of Tiffany's ponytail, and from the other end of the ribbon her hair exploded out in wavy and curly tresses. Her makeup looked perfect, complete with eyeliner done in some Egyptian or Persian style where it came past the outside corners of her eyes and feathered up.

"Her hair looks so freaking cool!" Tiffany exclaimed.

Tiffany made haste over to the table to join us. She reached up to lightly touch one of my curls. When she tried to play with it more, Melanie slapped her hand away. Tiffany walked over behind Kate, and stooped down. She checked my toenails, and content that they were dry, removed the spreaders from between my toes. Then she walked over and sat across from us at the table.

"You look amazing," Tiffany said, and then tried to look busy by putting the nail products away. She honestly could not keep her eyes off of me.

"I think we should keep the innocent look," Melanie finally said.

"That's what I was thinking," Kate said. "Maybe just a hint of mystery."

"Try the gray eye shadow," Melanie said. "I liked that on her before."

Between guesses and second guesses, amidst all the gabbing and fawning, Melanie and Kate eventually landed on a look for me. It all ended in rosy pink cheeks, with a light touch on my nose and chin, slightly darkened eyebrows, and light blue eye shadow, which made my steel blue eyes come to life. At least those were Kate's words. They powdered it all up, and finished me off by coloring my lips a subtle cherry blossom pink. Tiffany added her own touch, with her own cherry lip gloss.

"Perfect," Tiffany said, as she backed away from me.

"You look really pretty," Kate said.

"We did good," Melanie said, standing from her chair. "You two better get into costume."

"I want to see Bailey's first," Tiffany said.

No sooner did she speak the words than I felt her hand around my wrist, and she was pulling me up. We nearly knocked Kate over, as she tried to get off of her chair. Tiffany literally pulled me into the living room. I noticed she had put my costume out, as the blue dress instantly brought back the memory of me trying it on. Though the dress looked a lot different. Before I could detect what all of the differences were, Tiffany handed me my white tights.

"Um…" Kate said, from the doorway. "Normally I would never offer this as a suggestion to my little sister, but you might want to help Bailey put those on." She held her own hands up. "Nails and all."

"Oh," Tiffany said. "Yeah. Let me help you."

Tiffany took the tights from me, and led me over to a chair. She checked my nails once more, and then lightly dusted fuzz from their carpet off of my left foot. As I looked on, Tiffany eased my foot into the tights, and pulled that leg halfway up my lower leg. She repeated the whole process on my other foot, and soon had the tights smoothed up past my knees. Then she had me stand up, opened my robe, and finished pulling the tights up.

"I'll do your shoes too," Tiffany said. "Might be hard for you." She brought my silver ballet flats over, and knelt at my feet. "If you ever do false nails again, you better learn how to cope with them."

We gave each other a knowing smile. Then she helped me put on my shoes one at a time. With Kate and Melanie in the other room, Tiffany took a moment to caress my legs through the tights. It felt so good, that I didn't want her to stop. Her hands slid up under the robe, and eventually she rose to stand in front of me. She kept going up to my shoulders, until finally she got the robe over them, and it slid off of me.

"Ready for your costume?" she asked.

"I'm excited now," I said.

This wasn't a lie either. All of this anticipation had built me up to the moment. Tiffany herself had commissioned the creation of my costume, and with help from Melanie and Kate, had custom-made something just for me. It made me feel special in that moment, but sad that I couldn't return the favor. I watched as Tiffany removed the dress from the back of her couch, and brought it over to me.

"I hope this fits," Tiffany said. "Or you're going as an unusually dressed swimmer."

I chuckled at her remark. She held the dress out for me, and together we managed to slip it on over my head. The material was mostly velvet, but had some Lycra in it for a bit of stretch. Tiffany pulled it down as far as it could go. The hem of the skirt danced around mid-thigh, while the capped sleeves barely covered my shoulders. I finally realized what the costume was, as I looked at all of the features of the dress.

Most people would have known just with the colors alone. They were a dead giveaway for anyone thinking clearly. The navy blue dress had been taken in on both sides, and the stitching gave the appearance of a fake panel in the middle. On both sides of this panel were gold buttons, sewn in with no other function than decoration. The hem of the dress had gold piping around the skirt, and a thin white rope belt sat on my hips; again all for decoration.

Sewn into the top of the dress, stretching from the v-neck to the back, was a white jumper flap with navy blue piping around the border. The v-neck sat over the white and navy blue stripes of the swimsuit, letting it show a bit from underneath. As my hands went over the outfit, I noticed a small little gold anchor fixed to a chain. It hung from the rope belt as kind of a special little afterthought. Finally my mind put it all together. Tiffany had made me a sailor girl.

"Wow," Tiffany said. "You look good. I mean we got the fit perfect and everything."

I think we were both shocked at how well it fit. Even though we checked the size a few weeks ago, I didn't expect to fill it out so well, and I don't think Tiffany expected it either. It wasn't tight, like I had gained a few pounds, but instead it formed rather well to my body. Tiffany had slipped one hand up under the skirt, and was rubbing my thigh when Kate walked in. Her hand quickly flipped to the outside of the skirt, and she pretended to be straightening it.

"Bailey got back!" Kate said.

I looked dumbly at Kate and let fly from my mouth the most intelligent response I could muster. "Huh?"

"Your…" Kate moved her hands down to gesture at her own hips. "Well your…" She started to circle her hands around to her back. "Never mind." She gave me a pleasant smile. "You look absolutely adorable."

"Thanks," I said, blushing at her compliment.

"Oh!" Tiffany said. "The hat!" She ran off to her bedroom.

Kate strolled over to me. "You are the cutest thing," she said, running her index finger gently along my chin. "Why can't more boys be like you?"

"Maybe they're all scared of looking this good," I said.

"Ooh," Kate said. "Sassy!" She grinned at me. "Our little girly girl is growing up."

Tiffany rushed back into the living room. "Found it…"

Tiffany took a moment to catch her breath. Then she held a white sailor hat up to my hair. There wasn't anything special about the hat, but it definitely completed the costume. Without it, I would probably just appear to be wearing a nautical dress with white tights. Melanie walked in about that time, and gave me a nod. She didn't seem to show much emotion about where she leaned on the subject of my outfit.

"Will probably need to clip that on," Melanie said. "It's a little windy out."

"And all the dancing she's going to be doing," Kate said, giving me a wink.

"Probably going to be asked to dance a hundred times," Melanie said. She gave me a concerned look. "Hope you don't freak out if it's boys doing the asking."

"Ugh," I said. "I didn't even think about that."

"Don't worry about it," Tiffany said. "You can always say no."

"Or…" Melanie said. "You could live dangerously!" She turned her solemn look into a wicked little grin.

"Ooh Bailey!" Kate said. "You have got to dance with a boy!"

"What?" I asked. "Why?"

"Just to try it!" Melanie said.

"At least once," Kate said.

"I don't think so," I said.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Tiffany said.

"You don't even know what you'd be missing," Kate said.

"Seriously…" Melanie said.

"Just think," Kate said. "Some boy thinking you're cute enough to ask for a dance."

"That's a huge compliment," Melanie said.

I grew repulsed just thinking about it. "I…"

"And then if they didn't even know your secret…" Kate said.

"Guys!" Tiffany said, bursting into the conversation. "Enough!"

Kate looked surprised. "We're just saying --"

"I know what you're saying," Tiffany said. "I don't want you to make Bailey feel pressured to do it."

"I don't feel pressured," I said.

"Maybe she'd have fun doing it," Melanie said.

"I doubt it," I said.

"Why are you talking like she's not even here voicing her opinion?" Tiffany said, growing a bit more defensive. "She keeps saying no."

Melanie and Kate both looked at Tiffany like she had gone crazy. Melanie, turned and strolled into the other room. Kate, on the other hand, moved away from us and sat on the couch. The room grew deathly silent. On the mantle of their fireplace, a small clock clicked out second after second. It became the only sound in the room for several of those seconds. Tiffany gave me a concerned look.

"I want you to have fun tonight," Tiffany said, finally breaking the silence. "Don't feel pressured to do anything." She sighed. "And please forgive my idiot sister and her friend for even bringing something like that up."

"Hey…" Kate said. "I was just going with the moment."

"Well it was a stupid moment!" Tiffany said, a little louder. "She doesn't like boys." Tiffany looked up at me with a flash of pain in her hazel eyes. "Neither one of us likes boys!"

With that, Tiffany turned, tossed the hat to my costume at her sister, and stormed off down the hallway. I stood there, dumbfounded, and simply watched her disappear into her room. The door slammed several seconds later. I looked over to Kate, who looked like she had misplaced her head for a moment. Neither of us moved, and I didn't know if Tiffany was mad at me, Kate, or both of us.

"I'll go talk to her," Kate said, finally taking some action.

She passed Melanie on the way, and handed the sailor hat to her. Melanie whispered something to Kate, and Kate in turn whispered something back. They both eventually nodded. Kate continued down the hallway to her sister's room, while Melanie came strolling over to me. She gave me a reassuring smile and started to affix the hat to my head. Kate disappeared into Tiffany's room.

"What in the world was that about?" I asked, breaking the mind-numbing silence.

"I'm sure it's something they can work out," Melanie said. "Tiffany's just been under a lot of stress lately."

"Stress?" I asked. "From what?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Melanie said. "I just know things aren't entirely favorable for her right now."

I didn't even know how to take what Melanie had just said. Aside from the whole group session thing Tiffany had to deal with, I really didn't know what else could be getting to her. She said she was dealing with that among "other things," but I didn't know the other things in question. Melanie's words were almost cryptic in nature, like she knew, but didn't want to say. She continued to busy herself by pinning my hat to my hair. Her silence was deafening.

"Do you know anything about it?" I asked.

"All I know is that her life has not been exactly picture perfect lately," Melanie said. "The best advice I can give you at the moment, is just be there for her."

"Be there for her?"

"You know…" Melanie put another bobby pin through my hair. "Listen to her. Talk to her. Even if what she has to say might not sound good to you, I think she needs someone to talk to about her life." She stopped to put her hands on my shoulders. "She's growing up fast, and needs someone mature enough to handle her."

"What if I'm not able?" I asked.

"Then be ready to step aside," Melanie said. "Not just for her, but for the both of you." She paused to look in my eyes. "Be willing to let someone else fill that role if you can't fill it."

"Melanie," Kate shouted from the other room. "Could you bring me the bag I left by the couch?"

"Duty calls," Melanie said. Her right hand moved up to my cheek. "Hang in there though. You two have something special."

Melanie grabbed a plastic bag by the couch, and headed down the hallway. When she disappeared into Tiffany's room, I felt kind of out of the picture. Everyone was off working on some big secret costume thing, while I was in here alone. Surely it wouldn't be long until they got Tiffany situated and came back into the room. I wandered over to a decorative mirror they had hanging near the fireplace.

It took me a few seconds to recognize my own face in the mirror. Large bouncy curls erupted from underneath the slightly tilted white cap on my head. I reached up to gently pull on one. The long pink nails caught me off guard for the briefest moment, but my attention shot back to the curl springing back up to where I pulled it from. My face looked extremely youthful and innocent, perhaps even a bit younger. It all looked amazing.

I had to wander over to a chair to sit. For some reason I couldn't contain myself. Was it possible I could look this good everyday if I put a little effort into it? There were absolutely no traces of boyishness on me anywhere. I calmly fixed my skirt, crossed my legs, and tried to sooth myself back to normal. The next few minutes of my life were spent running my hands along the velvet material of my dress, and trying to breathe easy.

I must have wondered myself into a daze, as I almost didn't notice the three girls coming back into the living room. Melanie and Kate walked in first, obscuring my view of Tiffany's costume. They turned and held their hands out for Tiffany, in a sort of unveiling. I think my brain and mouth went numb when I saw her. The rest of me stood and stared. I should've known from the hairstyle and makeup what her costume would be.

Tiffany had on baggy royal blue velvet pants, gathered at the bottom into three-inch-wide gold cuffs. She had on a gold belt, which went from three inches wide to a four-inch-wide point at the middle. They had decorated it with gold tassels along the front, and loops of gold chain with coins resting against her hips. The belt stopped right under her bellybutton, and left the rest of her navel exposed.

Her top, also royal blue velvet, just covered her bust and ended with a couple of inches of royal blue tulle at the hem. The full sleeves of Tiffany's costume were also tulle. They stretched from cuffs, identical to the ones around her ankles, to a gold vest just big enough to cover her shoulder blades and rest on her shoulders. She had on several rings, and even a few toe rings. Together with her metallic blue toenails, the toe rings stood out against her strappy gold sandals.

Tiffany walked toward me. Her lips curled up into a smile beneath a tulle veil. The veil covered the bottom half of her face down past her chin. Kate busied herself getting her digital camera ready, while Melanie looked on with a smile. Now only a foot away, Tiffany reached up with the back of her right hand. Her metallic blue fingernails slid gently down my cheek. I finally mustered the courage to say what was on my mind.

"You look amazing."

"You've released me from my prison sailor girl," Tiffany said. "Your every wish is my command."

Melanie smiled at me from behind Tiffany, most likely the culprit who fed Tiffany the line she had just delivered. She gave me a wink, and then wandered off to Kate's bedroom. Kate took a few pictures of us. Then she took a few more with us posing. She wanted to keep taking more, but Melanie reentered the room and reminded her of the time. Kate still had to drop us off and come back to change. Melanie added a final touch to both of us, dabbing us with some of Kate's perfume. I immediately had doubts about this, but we were soon whisked out the door.

The drive over to Rachel Ford's house was as predictable as it could be, what with two wound up balls of anxiety and a calm, sophisticated high school senior packed into a Honda Accord. I'm sure Kate thought we were nuts from the way we gabbed to excess over nonsense. She had to act cool though. It was something all high school kids had in them when forced to drag their siblings around. For once in her life, Kate actually let both of us ride in the back seat. She despised this kind of "chauffeuring" as she called it.

Rachel greeted us, naturally. Showing off her princess costume, she twirled in entryway, and then paused long enough to feign interest over our own costumes. Her princess costume was nothing more than a pink ball gown, adorned with jewelry, and topped with a rather suspiciously real looking tiara. She simply held up her hand to go in, and then disappeared to places unknown. I probably wouldn't see her for the rest of the night.

We had all told our parents that Rachel's parents would be present at the party. As much as they knew, this was true. However, it was never mentioned that her parents were also entertaining guests downstairs, and they would make very little, if any, attempt to spy on our party. Her father usually blasted away liquor at these parties, and wouldn't be sober until morning, while her mother would now and for always be known as the aloof buffoon of all of our mothers.

These factors alone saw the slow, yet steady, decay of Rachel's morals. None of us would have been surprised if she had made it to second base by now with her current boyfriend. I personally wouldn't be surprised if she was rounding third and heading home. We never meant any of this to be cruel, but rather it was just the way Rachel turned out. Part of me felt sorry for her, but only part, as I had always wondered what it would be like to do some of the things Rachel had done in her short life.

"That dress turned out fantastic!"

I turned to find the face that matched the all too familiar voice coming at me. What greeted me happened to be a rather bubbly looking ladybug. Beneath two springy antennae, Tracy peered at me with a huge smile and eyes the size of the polka dots on her red and black dress. A set of transparent wings bobbled behind her, as she lifted her hands in an impending hug. I braced myself for it.

"You look amazing Bailey," Tracy said, and then switched to hug Tiffany. "You too genie."

Tracy stood slightly shorter than Tiffany and I, yet she still stuck to her flat shoes. She hated wearing heels, but somehow managed to find cute designs on whatever she wore. Her ballet flats, red with black polka dots, matched her dress and gloves. The black leggings under her tutu skirt, slimmed her legs quite a bit. Tracy, along with her sister Rebecca, had nicely developed swimmers' legs, but neither sought to do anything with them. I always thought they'd make good anchor swimmers, as they both practically lived in their pool.

"No," Tracy said to Tiffany. "He's around here somewhere."

I watched Tracy look around the room. She seemed a bit confused; to be expected at a costume party. Finally she spotted the thing, or rather the person, she was looking for, and pointed him out. I followed her gaze and found Jason on the other side of the crowd. He waved to us. Following the lead of the other two girls, I waved back. Then I realized I may have waved a bit too demurely, stuck in my feminine mode, and worried that Jason may have caught it.

Jason knew about me, yet I still didn't want to be acting the part around him. Part of me felt like he would start being my protector, or some other weird relation. I studied him for a moment, as he went back to his friends. His costume was extremely basic; sword, eye patch, tattered clothing and bandana around his head. The black sneakers went with his costume as much as a bad joke went with a funeral, and the one special thing he tossed in was costume makeup to make himself appear dirty.

As I laughed inwardly about Jason's costume, I found Vince in the crowd. Vince had put even less thought in his costume than Jason. He had on black pants, with a white shirt and black vest. His cape and fangs were supposed to be his ultimate selling points on an otherwise cheesy vampire costume. To be honest, I thought he would've tried harder. He was a rather gifted artist in our class. Maybe he just didn't like Halloween, but was fake blood too much to ask for?

"Well…" Tracy said. "They didn't wanna bring their drama to the party."

"Who?" I asked, thinking I'd missed vital information again.

"Vanessa and Danielle," Tiffany said.

"Neither one came?" I asked.

Tracy shook her head. "They both basically said they didn't want to come and spoil the evening for the other." She shrugged. "So they both missed out."

"That's a shame," I said. "At least they're sounding more civil. I was hoping to see them though."

"You just wanted the attention from Vanessa," Tiffany said, smiling.

"Right…" I said.

"Oh!" Tiffany said, as if remembering something. "There's Vince." She turned to give me a measured look. "Mind if I go say hi?"

I shook my head. Tiffany squeezed my hand, and then smiled. As I watched her dart through the crowd, another familiar face came my way. She almost floated toward me, carried by silvery wings, and sparkling in the dim lights throughout the room. White flowers littered her pale blue dress, which puffed out at the skirt like a cloud. Her olive skin shimmered with glitter, from her naked arms down her hosed legs, until everything pooled into pale blue ballet flats, which seemed to glide across the carpet.

"Megan…" I managed to stammer. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," Megan said. "You look adorable."

Megan pushed herself forward on her toes, and gently kissed me on the cheek. I barely recovered fast enough to brush her cheek with a kiss of my own. She seemed to exhibit a natural playfulness and joy in her eyes. Her messed up hair really gave the impression of a true pixie. Once our greeting ceased, Megan took my hands in hers. She looked over my nails a few times, and then gave me a smile.

"You really went all out," Megan said.

"It's mostly Tiffany's doing," I admitted.

"Well, whoever's idea it was, it all looks incredible," Megan said. "I love the curls…" She reached up to play with one. "And the nails…"

Megan couldn't stop playing. It seemed like she had to touch every single aspect of my costume. Maybe she didn't believe it was real. She continued to play with my cap, skirt hem, belt rope and the small anchor attached to it. At one point she even pointed out the gold buttons on my dress had little anchors on them. This was a tiny detail I somehow missed in all of the excitement.

"Where's Tawny?" I finally asked.

Megan looked confused at the question for a moment. "Um…" She snapped out of her daze long enough to glance around. "She was around here somewhere." Her eyes came back to me. "You probably wouldn't recognize her unless I pointed her out." A smile spread across her face. "She's coming up behind you."

With a little help from Megan, and another chance for her to run her hands over my velvety dress, I turned to face something incredibly remarkable. That night I saw an entirely different Tawny. She didn't have her usual haughty air about her. Instead, she walked cautiously up to Megan and I, with her eyes slightly turned down. She looked as if she were walking down a dark alley, alone, scared someone would jump out at any moment to grab her.

"She's kind of having a self-confidence crisis with it," Megan whispered in my ear. "So go easy on her."

I think I soaked in every inch of Tawny that night. While I still remembered most of the costumes of others, I never forgot Tawny's costume. Maybe it was because she looked so entirely opposed to her normal self. Perhaps the costume was just that appealing to me. Whatever it happened to be, I think my slight crush on Tawny hit full swing at that moment. She simply looked amazing to me.

Normally I would be opposed to matching costumes on friends. It lacked creativity in my mind. I understood themes, or events where everyone wore the same costume. They were all well and good, but Megan and Tawny managed to get away with a fashion faux pas that night. Somehow they both came as pixies, but managed to make them so different from each other that they worked well together.

Tawny struggled a bit, teetering on the three inch heels of light pink, patent ankle boots. Like Tracy, Tawny hardly wore heels, let alone narrow ones. I knew it was a struggle for her, and it reminded me of my first time wearing heels. For once I saw the skin of Tawny's legs, wrapped in purple fishnets, and rising up to a skirt. Tawny actually wore a skirt! I had to alert the media the first chance I got. This never happened.

Not only did she wear a skirt, but the skirt was part of a pale pink dress. The skirt itself looked like a flower petal. Rows of lacy purple tulle exploded from under the skirt, while even more purple tulle wrapped around the outside. They made swirls and decorative flower and ribbon patterns all over the dress. Her lower arms were encased in purple and pink arm wraps, which had the same petal pattern as the hem of the skirt.

From Tawny's elbows to her shoulders, there was nothing but smooth bare skin. I imagine she felt incredibly vulnerable from this, as she never liked to wear anything off of her shoulders. Around her shoulders she wore a harness of sparkly purple wings. Body glitter, makeup, and perfectly manicured dark purple fingernails all came compliments of Megan. She looked like an angel regardless of what her costume said.

The best part of all happened to be Tawny's hair. Her usual mundane, straight, black bob cut, had been teased and messed with until it stood out like Megan's pixie cut. Several strands were colored purple and pink, enough to offset the uniformed black. Random ribbons and bows, of the same colors, streamed from her hair. I could see some of them danced and tickled her shoulders as she walked closer to me.

"Hey," Tawny said. Her demure attitude surprised me.

"You look pretty," I said, not wanting to suffocate her by overdoing the compliments.

"I look like I got stabbed with a unicorn horn," Tawny said.

"I'm not exactly sure what the result of that may be," I said, giggling a bit, "but I don't think it would look this good."

Tawny looked up at me and smiled. She took a moment to look over my costume. Just as Megan had done, Tawny seemed interested with touching it. I guess velvet held that sort of attraction. Her hand immediately went for my hair. Something about pulling a curl down, and watching it bounce back up, had major appeal for my friends that evening. Tawny watched it for a moment, and then smiled. Then she noticed I was watching her, and shyly pulled back half a step.

"You look really good," Tawny said. "I mean…" She glanced over my outfit again. "If I had a sailor like you coming home, I'd definitely wait."

Megan cleared her throat. "If you two would like to make out like her ship just came in, I can come back."

"She likes to be missed too," Tawny said, winking at me.

Before I could remark, Megan grabbed Tawny by the hand. They disappeared into the crowd behind me. A fast song started up, and half of the room started dancing. I honestly didn't feel like dancing at that point. Something about going onto the floor alone seemed a bit too intimidating. So instead I hung out at the edge of the expansive living room, trying to find anyone past the crowd that I might know.

"Hey!" Tiffany said, coming up beside me.

"Did you find Vince?" I asked.

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Would you like to talk to him?"

"Maybe later," I said. I pretended I had some other wilder place to go to somewhere in the crowd. "I saw Megan and Tawny."

"How'd they look?" Tiffany said.

"They both looked cute," I said.

"Cute and Tawny don't quite mix well," Tiffany said. "They're like oil and water." She gave me a cross look. "I think you're understating it."

"You'll have to see for yourself," I said, smiling. "Words cannot explain."

"Wanna dance?" Tiffany asked.

"Sure!"

Tiffany took my hand and we wandered into the crowd. We somehow found Tawny and Megan dancing together. Tiffany had to express her approval of both of their costumes, only she did so nonverbally. The music was a bit too loud for anything else. Megan pulled on one of Tiffany's sleeves, expressing her own delight in Tiffany's costume. Tawny shyly approved of it too. It was funny and refreshing seeing Tawny act the way she acted tonight.

"Tawny looks hot," Tiffany said in my ear as she came back to me. "I mean they both look good, but…" She became speechless.

"I know," I said back to Tiffany. "I can hardly believe it myself. They both look incredible."

Most people already knew about Megan and Tawny. So seeing them dancing close to each other wasn't exactly something new. However, the other kids found it hard to keep their eyes off of Tiffany and me. I would've chalked it all up to Tiffany looking amazing in her costume, if it were up to me. Yet, as we continued to dance, and more people continued to look on, I realized I was drawing half of the attention.

That's when I noticed boys starting to move in closer. They weren't doing anything constrictively rude, or interrupting our good time. Instead, they were moving in for closer looks. Some boys were watching my legs, and I caught a few checking out my bottom. Still others were intently following where Tiffany's navel would go next. By the time the next song rolled around, boys were circling us like vultures.

We continued to dance. The boys and girls sifted in and out of the crowd. Now several new boys were seeing how close they could get to view us. I looked around, and realized it wasn't just us they were stealing peaks at. They were doing it to all of the girls. I guess girls pairing up to dance just happened to garnish a little more attention. Then again, I wasn't a girl, but they didn't have to know that to stare.

A slow song hit the room like breaks on a semi truck. Most of the crowd bowed out, not having anyone to dance with. I quickly took Tiffany in my arms. She seemed pleasantly surprised at the move, and pulled herself closer to me. Some of the boys stuck around. They glanced around at the girls, probably waiting for an opportunity to strike. I was so involved with watching them, that one caught me off guard from behind.

"May I cut in?"

At first I wondered who they meant. Then I realized they had tapped me on the shoulder. This of course meant they wanted to dance with Tiffany. According to the rules of etiquette on the dance floor, I had every right to say no. Tiffany had that right as well, but she took the girl's way out. She looked at me. Reluctantly, I let my dancing partner go to a tall blonde who had somehow managed to turn his baggy clothes into a hip hop artist costume.

He looked like a clown, but a clown who made me look like one now standing alone amidst the crowd. I really had no idea what to do. As he twirled away with Tiffany, I went into some strange helpless girl mode. Random kids just looked at me, while some of the boys went in for the kill. I was like a helpless bunny trapped amongst the carnivores. They all looked hungry.

"Care to dance?"

I turned around, ready to spray venom. Instead I found myself recoiling. There in front of me was the worst looking vampire I had ever seen. Vince had even taken his false fangs out, but they made his smile look ten times better. He smiled down at me with royal blue eyes, and for some reason I felt safe. I almost turned him down for the dance, but when I saw the other boys awaiting my response, I quickly nodded.

Vince took my right hand in his left, and put his other hand at my waist. It felt strange at first, having to fight him for a moment over who would lead. He stuck it out until I quit trying to fight it. I finally fell into sync with him right as the song neared the end. The DJ seemed quick to keep the feeling going, and put on another slow song. Vince held onto me, smiling as we danced into the next song.

I failed to even look around for Tiffany. This new experience had managed to take away the majority of my self-awareness. If anyone asked me now what the song was that we danced to, I would never be able to tell you. That's not to say it wasn't special. Like all new experiences, it felt special to me. Perhaps I would've chosen another boy to share my first dance with, but that wouldn't have changed much about it.

"You look pretty tonight," Vince said.

"Thanks," I said, noticeably blushing.

He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I thought it should be said."

"It was nice of you," I said, as he pulled his head back. "You look nice as well."

"Thanks." Vince studied me for a moment. He couldn't resist pulling my hand up with his, and giving one of my curls a gentle tug. "I like the curls."

"They seem to be pretty popular," I said, displaying a subtle smile.

"I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot," Vince said.

"We kind of did," I said, nodding to our feet on the floor.

Vince chuckled. He almost sounded like Nathan when he laughed. That might have been a huge part of why I didn't run away screaming. Like Nathan, Vince had this gentleness about him. I could see why Tiffany liked him, and why she could talk easily with him. He didn't seem like a bad guy at all. In fact, he seemed charming and nice.

"Well…" Vince said. "Dancing jokes aside. I didn't want you to think of me as a bad guy." He gave me a half smile. "Tiffany said you were concerned."

"I don't think that anymore," I said.

"What do you think?" Vince asked.

"I think you're nice," I said, giving him a thoughtful smile.

"Well good," Vince said.

With that, Vince caught me off guard with my first ever twirl. If he hadn't been around to catch me, I would've fallen flat on my face. All of these new experiences brought new feelings. When Vince had twirled me around, I felt delicate almost breakable. The gentleness and spontaneity of the move had me feeling carefree and a bit invigorated. My hand in his felt safe. His watchful gaze felt like a shelter.

Melanie and Kate were right. Even though I didn't expect to follow their suggestion tonight, it had just occurred randomly. It arose from an odd circumstance, but I'm glad it did. There really was no other feeling quite like dancing with a boy. I couldn't figure out earlier why they were pushing the issue, but now I knew. Tiffany had gotten worked up over…

"Tiffany…" I said.

"What about her?" Vince asked.

"I lost her," I said, looking around the crowd.

"She's over there," Vince said, nodding his head in her direction. "She's fine. I've been watching her." He looked down at me. "It seemed like you needed rescuing more than she did." He glanced back at her. "Though she doesn't look too happy about it."

"I should really go check on her," I said.

"I'll make you a deal," Vince said. "If the next song's a fast one, you can go." He smiled. "If not, I get another dance."

I glanced back and forth from Vince to Tiffany. Finally I looked up at Vince. "Okay," I said. "But only one."

"Aw," Vince said. "I was hoping for a few later too."

"You're pushing it," I said.

I shook my head at Vince, but I couldn't help smiling. He was definitely growing on me. Maybe I would dance with him later. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression, yet something felt extremely comfortable about him. It would remain comfortable for the moment, as another slow song came up. Vince smiled down at me, a small victory in his corner.

As we danced through that song, I forgot about all of the prying eyes around us. Nobody looked familiar anyway, as my friends had all but vanished in the crowd, and the costumes hid people I otherwise would have recognized. So I simply lent Bailey to Vince for the next few minutes. I managed to shyly steal glances at him when I thought he wasn't looking. It all felt natural, so natural that I almost wanted another slow song to come on so we could continue.

Alas, the song ended. A steady stream of beat mixes flowed in, trying to pump blood back into the dwindling dance crowd. Vince seemed sweeter than ever when we parted. He gently brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. When he did that at the fall festival it seemed creepy. Now it just seemed charming.

"I'll see you later then?" Vince asked.

"Perhaps," I said.

Vince let me slip back into the crowd. It didn't take me long at all to find Tiffany. I approached her while she was in the process of pushing another boy away from her. She rolled her eyes at some comment he made, and walked closer to me. When she saw me, her eyes lit up, and she smiled. I drew closer to her, and the boy seemed to back off. Tiffany came over and kissed my cheek.

"You would not believe what that boy just said," Tiffany said.

I looked at the back of the boy's head, then motioned for Tiffany to tell me.

"He said he would like to rub against my lamps all night," Tiffany said, showing her disgust throughout the statement. "Can you believe that?"

"You want me to talk to him?" I asked, now staring the boy down.

"No," Tiffany said, giggling as she looked at me.

"What?"

"I think he'd probably ask if he could put his ship in your harbor," Tiffany said, still giggling after her comment.

"At least I could tell him where to stick his anchor," I grumbled.

"Oh, come on," Tiffany said, walking me off to the side. "You're more girly than me at this point." She rubbed her hand around my side and down my bottom. "Besides, I want you to keep this costume in one piece for awhile." Her lips turned up into a mischievous smile. "We might wear them again later."

"There you are," Tracy said, coming over to Tiffany. "I've been looking for you."

"Did you get it?" Tiffany asked.

"I did," Tracy said, "but it comes at a price." She held a key up for Tiffany to take. "Rules too."

"What rules?" Tiffany asked, looking confused.

"Don't get too loud," Tracy said. "Don't turn on any lights that can be seen from the house."

"Is that it?" Tiffany asked.

"Oh," Tracy said. "If you get caught, say it was unlocked and hide the key under the mattress."

"What are you planning?" I asked Tiffany.

"A surprise," Tiffany said. "I'll fill you in when we get there."

"We?" I asked. "Wait. You and me?!"

"Careful around the pool," Tracy said. "I'll hit the lights for you." She turned to look at me. "Have fun."

Nothing clicked in my head at all. It felt like Tiffany and I were going on a secret espionage mission, yet only one of us had any information. All I could gather was that we were sneaking into something locked, and avoiding detection at all costs. Tiffany hadn't even questioned Tracy when told this would come at a price. What price? She didn't seem to care either.

Tiffany took my hand, pulling me into the crowd. We kept to the outside, and slinked close to the walls. She expertly navigated us into the kitchen, where several kids were drinking and eating a smorgasbord of party favorites. Suddenly she stopped. We were so close to each other that I nearly walked up her back. She nodded to Tracy, who stood next to the back door, and then pulled me toward the door leading out to the garage.

"Will you help me grab some more drinks?" Tiffany asked.

I looked at her strangely. Somehow I found the ability to nod in her direction. With my acknowledgement, Tiffany pulled me out into the garage. She shut the door behind us. Then after a quick check if the garage was empty, she pulled me over to the side door. After flashing me a smile, she pushed the door open, checked around the corner, and then pulled me outside.

We stepped out into the chilly autumn night. I'm sure Tiffany felt it worse than I did, but my costume wasn't exactly built for warmth either. I wondered why in the world she would bring me outside. Did Rachel's parents have some secret alcohol stash? Surely Tiffany didn't want to drink. I knew her better than that, at least I thought I did. She wouldn't touch the stuff even at her own house.

Tiffany waited by the corner of the house. She seemed fixated on the back lights. Suddenly all of the lights went off. Tiffany rushed across the yard, pulling me closely behind her. It wasn't until we reached the pool house that I knew of our destination. She put the key in the lock, and quickly pulled us inside. The door shut behind us almost as fast as we opened it. Almost immediately the lights outside came back on.

"Private party," Tiffany said, near a whisper.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, whispering with her. "We could get in trouble."

"You know all of those times I said I'd make it up to you?" Tiffany asked, still whispering as she led me carefully through a makeshift living room. "Well tonight I'm going to make them all up to you."

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I want to though," Tiffany said.

"I don't know…"

Tiffany stopped and turned into me. "If you're not comfortable with this we can go back."

"I'm comfortable," I said. "I think…" I could smell her perfume and hair so close to me. "What if we get caught?"

"Nobody even knows we're out here," Tiffany said. "Besides… it only goes as far as we want it to." Her hands were now running up and down the front of my velvety dress. "Okay?"

"I just don't want things to get out of hand," I said.

"They won't," Tiffany said. "I promise." Her hand slid back into mine. "But we have to go to the back room."

We couldn't even make it that far. By the time we reached the hall back to the bedroom, we were kissing and pawing at each other. If we didn't have rules to go by, we would've collapsed on the floor right there. Somehow we managed to get into the bedroom, where a few pastel colored nightlights lit up the room. Soft music was playing on the bedside radio. Tiffany took her veil, which she removed earlier in the hallway, and tossed it onto the bed.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed a rather familiar voice from over on the bed.

"Tawny?" Tiffany asked.

Another voice entered the room; one with a distinctive Korean accent. "Tiffany?"

"Megan?" I asked.

"You hit me with your veil," Tawny said. "How did you get in here?"

For a moment I saw Tawny sit forward on the bed. The moonlight seeping through the window, along with the nightlights, cast a shadowed light upon the pale bare chest of Tawny Simmons. I didn't mean to see them, but they had just popped into view. Suddenly I felt very shy at the moment. Tawny pulled her costume up over her shoulders, while Megan turned her back to us.

"I didn't know anyone else was in here," Tiffany said. "Tracy got the key… and I thought…" Tiffany let out an exasperated sigh in the darkness. "I'm so sorry you two."

"No, it's my fault," Tawny said. "We always sneak off back here."

"Not always," Megan said, trying to appear modest.

"Well…" Tawny said. "I didn't think anyone else knew about it." She stood and walked over closer to us. "What brings you two here anyway?"

"Um…" Tiffany fidgeted next to me.

"I mean, I know why you're here," Tawny said. "Obviously." She reached out and pulled Tiffany over to the bed. "Special occasion?"

I followed them both over to the bed. Megan seemed to cower a bit in the shadows. By the time I got to the foot of the bed, Tiffany and Tawny had already made themselves at home. Tawny had crawled back up on the bed, and was kneeling next to Tiffany, who casually pulled her sandals off to sit on the bed. I slipped my shoes off to join them, and noticed Megan reaching out for my hand.

"I don't know how special it is now," Tiffany joked. "We were just coming in here to have some time alone."

"It's as special as you make it," Megan said.

I felt myself sliding onto the bed knees first. Eventually I found myself kneeling between Megan and Tiffany, and facing Tawny. I still couldn't shake the image of her breasts from my head. They were at least a healthy b-cup, but I'd never seen Tawny wear anything tight enough to show them off. In fact, they were almost as nice as Tiffany's breasts. I suddenly wanted a pair of my own, when I realized I was the only one without them. Even Megan had a budding a-cup going for her.

"We could leave if you like," I said. "You were here first."

"No," Tawny said. "I don't wanna ruin your 'special' night."

"Why would you say it like that?" Megan asked, poking Tawny in the ribs with her elbow.

"Maybe we could just hang out and talk," Tiffany said, all but giving up on the occasion.

She straightened herself, and moved onto her knees across from Tawny. Her right hand slid into my left hand, and I noticed Megan still held my other hand. I watched Megan, as she slid her hand along Tawny's thigh. She leaned over and whispered something into Tawny's ear. Tawny giggled, another characteristic uncommon to her, and whispered something back to Megan.

"Are you sure?" Tawny asked.

"Yes," Megan said.

"What are you two whispering about?" Tiffany asked.

"Megan was wondering…" Tawny said. "Or rather she's been wondering about it for a long time now." Tawny looked over at Megan. "I don't know how to ask it."

"I've never talked much about this," Megan said. "For a long time I've been wondering what it would be like." She lowered her head. "You see… My parents are very strict, and what is done with Tawny is mostly done like this. In the dark, and away from home." Her hand tightened around Tawny's, and her head tilted slightly toward her. "I thought since we were here, away from the others." She sighed, and looked up at Tiffany. "Since we had the opportunity. That maybe I could have this one chance to try it." Her head turned to face me. "To kiss another transgender girl."

It sounded cuter still when Megan said it with her slight accent. I had watched her go from shy wallflower to miss popularity. Now she knelt next to me as if none of that popularity got to her. Inside she was still the same shy girl I talked to before school. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was asking, and that I was the intended target of her kiss. At the moment, I wish she had just done it, gotten it over with. Instead she asked, and now it felt a bit awkward.

"I…" They all just kind of stared at me.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Megan said. "I can understand if you say no."

"I don't know," Tiffany said, still looking at me. "I guess it's up to Bailey."

"Up to me?" I asked, not wanting the burden of it. "Are you sure about that?"

"Well…" Tiffany said. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I told you it would come out sounding strange," Tawny said, looking at Megan. "How about we make it fair?"

"Fair?" Tiffany asked. "Is that even possible?"

"What if we all got one kiss from each other?" Tawny asked.

"It's starting to sound like that movie now," I said, obviously trying to cut the tension in the room.

"I know… Indecent Proposal. It sounds lame," Tawny said. "But then we can say it's all even."

"Or we could just stay even and not do it," I said.

"Hmmm…" Tiffany said. "It won't leave this room?"

"Never," Megan said.

"We won't say a word," Tawny said. "I'm kind of curious too."

"Curious about what?" I asked.

"Kissing another girl," Tawny said. "I mean Megan's top notch, but…"

"I am technically a boy," Megan said. "She's been wanting about kissing an actual girl."

"And we trust you two," Tawny said.

"Completely trust you," Megan said.

"Well we trust you both too," I said. "Still…" I looked at Tiffany.

While Tiffany mulled it over, I had some of my own thinking to do. I had never kissed another girl, unless you count those childish pecks on the cheek in first grade. Usually I would wind up running away afterwards. So kissing Tawny would be kind of scary, but nothing I would run from. Then the unsettling worries trickled in on me. Technically, as she said herself, Megan was a boy. I knew we regarded her as a run-of-the-mill girl in life, but we all knew the truth.

For the past two months I had thought about kissing a boy, but I had never gotten the nerve up to do it. A dream involving Nathan was the closest I came to the act. This almost felt like a dream in itself. Then there was Tawny's somewhat enlightened scheme where we all won in the end. Something told me she had an ulterior motive. The quiet talk in the room became a muted whisper. Somehow I had missed a vital piece of the conversation, while delving in my thoughts.

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Just one? No seconds?"

"If anyone goes for a second, we all get a second," Tawny said.

"Wait… what?" I asked.

"This might be fun," Tiffany said, squeezing my hand. "Kind of a learning experience. Like the stuff you'd do in camp or at a sleepover."

Had I totally missed the boat? Before I knew it, Tawny and Megan were "breaking the ice" and kissing each other. I got lost watching them kiss. It looked amazing, and I wondered if Tiffany and I looked the same when we kissed. As the urge to protest came back to me, I felt a hand under my chin. My head turned quickly, but gently, and my protest was muffled by Tiffany's lips joining mine. The sticky reluctant cling of our lip gloss gave way as the kiss departed.

"That wasn't exactly your best," Tiffany said. "Hope you do better at least for Megan's sake."

"She's just nervous," Tawny said, reaching out to pat my leg. "Maybe we should go boy girl next to get her lips working again."

Tawny's words didn't even register in my head. I simply watched her lips move. Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad. I would get to kiss Tawny as a lovely bonus. Her lips moved into a smug smile. I assumed it had something to do with the last thing she said, but again, I couldn't even recall her words. I felt myself bracing for the inevitable. My body straightened as I came forward a bit on the bed.

Just as I thought Tawny was about to go for the kiss, Tiffany's face blocked half of my view. Megan's face soon moved into the other half. The girls closed in the remaining gap. Their lips melted together like soft candy. Both of them enjoyed the moment, Megan lingering a second longer; to savor the taste of Tiffany's cherry lip gloss no doubt. What lasted for mere seconds, burned a lasting image in my mind. All too soon it was over.

"That was pretty sexy," Tawny said. "Ready sailor?"

"Just relax," Tiffany whispered in my ear.

I felt her hand running over my back. It felt soothing, methodic, and eased me up to the point where I could meet Tawny halfway. She looked so beautiful tonight. In fact, I happened to be surrounded by the three most beautiful girls at the party. Oddly enough, they considered me as one of the cutest girls there. This had to be a setup. Any minute one of them would call it off and they'd all break into a giggle fest. But why would Tiffany go as far as she did?

Tawny's hands slithered up my nylon-clad thighs. I suddenly realized that all three of them were putting their hands on me. They were trying to make me feel more comfortable. Megan's fingers were on the verge of tickling, as the gently caressed my bare arm. Tiffany continued to move her hand up and down my back. As this went on, I felt a pair of hands sliding around my hips, and then back down to my knees.

Tawny's green eyes penetrated the darkness. They seemed to have a life of their own as they floated toward mine. Even if I wanted to turn back now, I couldn't do it. I had to know what Tawny's kiss felt like at least. Her lips were so close I could feel their soft pink glow. So close now, but I knew they would take me miles from where I was kneeling on this bed. My eyes shut. I pushed myself forward. There was no turning back.

Her lips crashed against mine like a roaring wave. There were sparks, and passion. It lacked nothing, and I gave it everything. It felt warm like the grass in spring. Her lips felt as firm and tender as a ripened grape. Interestingly enough, they tasted like grapes. They actually tasted like grape lip gloss… and a bit of cherry. My eyes jerked open.

Tawny's eyes did not greet me. Instead I found a pair of chocolate brown eyes, shaped like two perfect almonds, surrounded by glitter. Megan's eyes closed, and continued the kiss. After the initial shock had settled, I found my own eyes closing. I relaxed into the kiss. It appeared that it didn't matter to me where the kiss had come from. I simply knew that it felt good. It tasted good. I had started kissing Megan, and I didn't want the kiss to end.

"I'm sorry," Megan said, breaking the kiss. "I wanted it to be real and pure."

"No," I said. "It's fine."

"I thought if you anticipated it too much, it would lose something," Megan said.

"It was good," I said. "I liked it."

"You liked it?" Tawny asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes," I admitted. "It was tender and sweet."

"Would you like to kiss again?" Tiffany asked, obviously intrigued by what had just occurred.

I knew the answer to Tiffany's question had a heavy weight attached to it. If I admitted I wanted to kiss Megan again, Tiffany might be upset. It could change the whole dynamic of our relationship. On the other hand, if I didn't handle it gently enough, Megan might be hurt by me turning her down. I stared in silence at Megan. In all of my life I had never been more thankful for having Tawny around, than I was at that very moment, on that very night.

"Rules are in place," Tawny said.

"Of course," Tiffany said.

Megan simply nodded, and retreated back to her corner of the bed. For the next minute of my life I had to suffer through a jealous flare up my spine, and a hundred questions going through my mind. Tawny and Tiffany shared an amazing kiss. I could hardly describe it, but seeing two girls come close and exploring such a tender and intimate moment; it took my breath away. My breath was soon taken away again, as Tawny came after her kiss from me.

Out of the three there that night, the gentlest and most passionate kiss surprisingly came from Tawny. I couldn't escape the taste of Tiffany's cherry lip gloss, as everyone was wearing it now. So while the taste wasn't unique, Tawny's technique was far different. She had a way in which she moved her bottom lip up and down, that made it feel like the kiss kept coming. It was almost as if she wanted to push the kiss into you somehow.

"No offense," Tawny said, pulling back from me, "but you kiss like a girl."

"I…"

"Relax," Megan said. "She said the same thing to me."

"Humor," Tawny said, smiling at me. "To lighten the air."

"We better get back to the party," Tiffany said.

"Aw," Megan said. "You just got here."

"I think it would be a good idea if we all went back now," I said, looking away from the three of them.

"Can I borrow your shoes Bailey?" Tawny asked.

"No," Megan said. "You put your heels back on. One night won't kill you."

"Will kill my feet," Tawny said.

"You'll live," Megan said. "And we're dancing more too."

"Fine," Tawny said, obviously disgruntled.

"Speaking of shoes, where are mine?" Tiffany asked. "I can't see a thing in here."

"Just feel around for them," Tawny said, as she slid off of the bed to help.

I watched the two of them go down to the floor in a frantic search for shoes. Right before I got off of the bed myself, Megan handed me Tiffany's veil. Our hands touched briefly, and I could see Megan smiling in the faint light of the room. She pushed herself forward and put her lips against mine once more. As the other two girls kept busy looking for shoes, Megan and I shared another pleasant kiss.

It felt a bit strained and stiff at first, as I had been caught off guard, and it was a spur of the moment thing. Eventually I relaxed, and Megan relaxed. The tenderness from our first kiss returned. Though I wasn't sure, I thought I felt a bit more passion this time on her end. I felt the first kiss was more of an experimental trial, but this one seemed more real. This kiss felt soft, sticky and sweet, all of the things needed for a good stolen kiss.

"So that's what it normally feels like to kiss you?" Megan asked. "I liked it." She leaned further to whisper in my ear. "Both times."

"Found one of yours," Tiffany said.

"Damn," Tawny said. "Was hoping you wouldn't."

Megan pulled away. Her index finger flew to her lips, giving me the universal signal to keep silent. She slid from the bed without effort, and came around to the foot of it. After a moment she stood in front of me with my shoes. She held my right foot up, and slipped that shoe on. I welcomed the help, as I still had not gotten used to the false nails. As she slipped my other shoe onto my left foot, her hands slid up my leg.

"You two ready?" Tawny asked. "I don't think I can run in these things."

"How did you get out here without being seen?" Tiffany asked.

"We walked along the fence," Tawny said. "Can't see it from the basement window."

"Good to know," I said.

"Let me find my shoes," Megan said.

Megan dropped to her knees. With one hand she felt around for her shoes. Her other hand stayed on my nylon-clad leg. In soft, light strokes, her hand gently slid up and down my calf. I think I had totally missed the boat on something. Megan acted as if we had suddenly become an item after one kiss. Okay, it was two kisses, but still… I didn't want to be her new girlfriend, or boyfriend. Now I had even confused myself.

"Found them," Megan said, finally taking her hand from my leg. She quickly slipped her shoes on. "We better check makeup."

"Oh yeah," Tawny said. "Here." She flicked on the light in a small bathroom.

"Tawny!" Tiffany said. "Won't they see the light?"

"Relax," Tawny said. "This is the one safe room of the pool house. Luckily it's the bathroom."

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

"Experience," Tawny said.

"We come to a lot of Rachel's parties," Megan said.

We all crowded into the bathroom. Tawny and Tiffany stood behind Megan and I at the mirror. Megan quickly gussied herself up, and had to turn and help Tawny. It seemed kind of funny that she had to help an actual girl with makeup. I smiled at Tawny, and she rolled her eyes. I looked away to start on my own touch up. It was then that I felt a squeeze on my bottom, and I instantly looked at Tiffany.

That had to be Tiffany. Only it couldn't have been Tiffany. Both of her hands were up at her hair fixing her veil. She handed her lip gloss to me, and my eyes roamed back to Tawny. It had to be her, as Megan wasn't even facing me. Tawny kept a poker face though, causing me to simply go back to fixing myself up. Again, a hand grabbed the same cheek and gave it a firmer squeeze.

"Okay," I said. "Cut it out."

"Cut what out?" Tiffany asked.

"I know it's you Tawny," I said.

Tawny burst out laughing, causing Tiffany to join her. "I'm sorry," Tawny said, amidst laughter. "Tiffany told me to do it."

"Lies!" Tiffany said, trying to hide a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing to the poor girl?" Megan asked.

"Just this," Tawny said, grabbing my bottom once again.

This time I jumped, making Tawny enjoy it even more. Tiffany reached down and grabbed the other cheek. I turned around, fuming a bit at the teasing. Both girls just giggled and smiled, turning to each other to relish in their little inside joke. Then out of nowhere, I felt another hand grab my backside. Megan had gotten into the act now. She giggled when I jumped to face her.

"I'm sorry," Megan said. "Peer pressure."

"Well all of the pressure is on my bottom," I said, backing out of the room.

Tawny couldn't contain herself now. My statement made her lose control. Tiffany came toward me holding her arms out. She gave me a look like she wanted to consol me, and I let her wrap her arms around me. The next thing I knew, she had both hands on my bottom. She squeezed both cheeks, and pulled me into her. Unfortunately she couldn't turn it into a serious moment, and let go of me to go join Tawny in laughing.

"Okay," I said. "I'm going to go now."

I slapped Tiffany's lip gloss in her hand, and stormed out of the bedroom. Behind me I could hear awing, like I had pulled the life out of their little party. Tiffany caught up to me in the small living area of the pool house. She wrapped her arms around me, turning me into her for an actual hug. This time she genuinely consoled me. I wasn't extremely mad, just frustrated at the teasing. However, it was nice to know that she would come after me like she did.

Megan and Tawny soon joined us. Tawny put her hand on my shoulder and rubbed the top of my back. Megan got in on the hug and squished Tiffany and I together more. We stayed like that for awhile. Then Megan moved over to peer out the window, and Tawny soon joined her. Tiffany didn't want to let go of me, and I didn't want her to either. The comforting hug felt wonderful.

"We have to slip out, and quickly go around behind the pool house," Tawny said, watching the house. "Then follow the fence back to the garage, and try to slip back into the party."

"Should we all go together?" Tiffany asked, still running her hands up and down my back.

"Better that we do," Tawny said. "If we go one at a time, that's four chances for them to spot us." She looked at Megan. "And I really don't want to get caught sneaking into their pool house."

"We should've never come out here," I said, resting my chin on Tiffany's shoulder.

"Coming out here was totally worth it," Tiffany said, breaking our hug. "Just getting caught going back won't be."

"If we don't get caught," Megan said. "We'll be able to do this again."

"You do come out here all the time don't you?" I asked.

"Maybe," Megan said, grinning.

"Megan and Bailey go first," Tawny said. "You two have the brightest costumes."

"Why didn't we have Tracy stay at the back door?" I asked. "She could've hit the lights for us to sneak across again."

"That wouldn't be fair to make her stand guarding a door all night," Megan said.

"I guess that's true," I said. "Never thought about that."

"We'll be fine," Tawny said. "Just stay close."

With that said, Tawny eased the door open. She snapped the lock on it, and waved Megan through. Megan took my hand, and I in turn took Tiffany's hand. Our little train quickly made its way around the corner of the pool house. Tawny caught up with us, struggling in her heels. I knew we would eventually hear about how much she hated them, but right now we stuck to the task at hand in silence.

Cautiously we sneaked down the fence row and made our way to the side of the garage. Tawny moved to the head of our pack, and carefully opened the door. She popped her head inside, and then gave us the all clear. We all piled into the garage, relieved to be out of the bitter autumn air. It wasn't much warmer in the garage, but at least there wasn't any wind. Tawny led us all over to a big refrigerator, and opened it up.

"Take some soft drinks in," Tawny said. "Nobody will wonder why you're out here."

Tawny started distributing cans to us, two at a time. Megan took hers and headed for the door. Soon she disappeared, back into the house and the party still in progress. Tiffany went next, so it didn't look like Megan and Tawny were out here alone. I started to go, but Tawny stopped me. She waited until Tiffany had been gone a moment. Then she grabbed her own two cans, and shut the door.

"I wanted to…" Tawny looked around like there were more people in the room. "That kiss back there…"

"It was nice," I said.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "Nice…" She looked confused for a moment. "I think it was a little more than nice." She gave me a half smile. "I really liked it."

"Really?"

"Well don't sound so surprised," Tawny said. "You make an amazingly sexy girl with a little effort."

"No," I said. "I mean… I liked it too." I bit my lower lip. "I just don't know what to think, or what to say about it." I sighed. "It's just all so new to me. Plus it sort of felt… I don't know."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I don't want to complicate things for you. I mean, you're with Tiffany."

"And you're with Megan."

"Right," Tawny said. "Maybe it was nothing, but I just wanted to tell you."

"Maybe…" I said, gazing at Tawny longingly.

"We should get inside," Tawny said. "I'm freezing my butt off in these girly clothes."

"Actually," I said, as Tawny brushed past me. I waited until she turned to face me. "You look really pretty."

"You think?" Tawny asked.

"Yes," I said. "You should wear stuff like that more often."

"Like this costume?" Tawny asked with a slight laugh.

"More feminine stuff I mean," I said. "Colors like that, and I like the skirt. You look cute in it." I looked down. "You've got nice legs too."

"Thanks," Tawny said, offering up another of her rare blushes. "I'll think about it."

I watched Tawny walk to the door. She looked over her shoulder at me. After flashing me a subtle smile, she opened the door and walked into the house. I stood for a moment, trying to anchor myself in the waves of the feelings and emotions washing over me. This had been a strange night, and it was far from over. I still had to make it through about two more hours of party. I shifted the cans in my hands, and walked to the door, prepared to face the music inside.

"There you are," Vince said, as I walked into the house. "Been looking for you."

"Me?" I asked.

"Of course," Vince said, taking the burden of the drinks from my hand. "I thought we might share another dance or two." He winked at me. "Maybe more than two?"

"That…" I looked over to see Tiffany giving me a sly smile and two big thumbs up. "Sounds nice," I said, taking Vince's hand.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 7

I never quite got used to the rough, stiff gray carpet of Doctor Dinesh's office. No matter how long I stood or walked on it, the stuff had no give to it. It felt like walking on little beads of plastic, but not as smooth. The stuff seemed to scratch at my feet, with only the thin layer of my cotton ankle socks to protect them. I actually preferred the no-slip rubber of the scales I had stepped up onto.

"Alright," Jennifer said. "Let's see here…"

Jennifer happened to be Doctor Dinesh's nurse. As far as I could tell, she was his only nurse. The only other people in his offices were an elderly receptionist, and another doctor I only saw once. He had an office in the back, but I never went to see him. Only in passing had Doctor Dinesh, or Rajan as I liked to call him, introduced me to the man. His last name was Brooks, as I recalled from the introduction and the sign on the front door.

"You've grown about… another quarter inch," Jennifer said, looking at my charts. "Looks like a nice steady pace." She jotted down the info. "Five feet and quarter inch now."

I watched her fiddle around with the scales. Her hazel eyes peered out over thinly framed glasses. They reminded me of Tiffany's eyes, though they were quite a bit brighter. She had her curly red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. It was pretty typical for her, as I'm sure it was typical for most women in her profession. She glanced up from the numbers and noticed me gazing at her. I shot my eyes away.

"Everything okay?" Jennifer asked.

"I was just noticing your glasses," I said.

"Oh. You like them?" she asked. "I just got them this week."

"They look nice on you," I said. "I didn't know you wore glasses though."

"Just for reading," Jennifer said. "I always lose them though." She smiled at me, and looked down to adjust the scales a bit more. "Up to a hundred even now. That's good." She raised her eyebrow toward me. "Not all Halloween candy I hope."

"No," I said. "I really didn't have that much."

"Have you been eating healthier?" she asked.

"A little bit," I said, recalling my meals at home getting more healthy.

"Started any exercise regimens?"

"I've been meaning to," I said. "There's this boy I'm thinking about jogging with." I paused, a bit ashamed of offering up the information, but she didn't seem to pay much attention to it. "I'm trying to think of a right way to ask him."

Jennifer looked up at me and smiled. "You say, 'can I jog with you?' and set up a schedule with him," she said.

"It's not that simple," I said, blushing a bit.

"Oh," Jennifer said. "I see… Have a bit of a crush on him do we?"

"Sort of," I said, shifting my eyes to the side. "It's complicated."

"I know how that goes," Jennifer said. "Just be direct. He might like the initiative, and you'll get to know him better in the process." She poked me in the belly gently with the eraser of her pencil. "And you'll be getting exercise." Her thin pink lips produced a smile. "Doctor Dinesh is going to be on your case about it next."

"He's already mentioned it," I said.

"Well if he's mentioned in," Jennifer said, "then he wants you to be doing it."

I stepped down from the scales, back onto the rough gray carpet. Jennifer hadn't said anything about where to go, so I stood there and watched her write stuff on my chart. She seemed involved with whatever she had going on, and looked up at me absentmindedly. The silence continued, as she stared blankly like she was looking through me. Then she scribbled something else down. I decided to busy myself with something, and picked up one of my sneakers to put on.

"You can leave those here," Jennifer said, without looking up. "Nobody else will be coming in today." She pointed to an open door down the hall. "If you could step into exam room two, I'll be in there shortly."

I'd never seen Jennifer act this way. She seemed almost robotic in nature. It probably wasn't anything to get worked up about. Maybe she just had a bad day. Usually she was friendlier. She stepped out of my way to let me pass, and I walked down to the exam room. I groaned inwardly as I saw a gown set out on the exam table. This normally meant I had another thorough examination coming.

I hated full examinations. They always made me uncomfortable, yet I knew they were more than likely necessary with my condition. Usually they came once a month. Still, they felt cold and calculated. I was always given the option to have an adult present, but considering my stepfather Tom brought me to most of the appointments, I felt more comfortable not having an adult present. Megan at least gave me some hope, as she claimed full exams were becoming less common for her. She said it was mostly Jennifer checking her development now.

"I'll take your blood pressure," Jennifer said from behind me. She startled me a bit, making me jump. "Then I'd like to take a few measurements before I have you slip into your gown." She closed the door behind her. "Go ahead and remove your shirt and jeans."

Jennifer stepped over to a counter, and started to sift through my paperwork. I casually stepped over to the corner of the room. Even though I'd been through this routine before, Jennifer wasn't ever in the room. I gulped hard, and reached for the button of my jeans. Soon I was stepping out of them, and placing them neatly in the chair. My shirt soon followed, and I turned around to find a waiting Jennifer.

She wasn't staring at me, but merely stood by the table waiting. When she saw me approaching, she patted the edge of the exam table. I stepped up on a stair to help me get up to the table. Meanwhile, Jennifer moved the examination gown onto my lap, and had me sit in its place. She then wrapped a black strap around my arm, and casually pumped it up. Two of her fingers sat on my wrist, to take my pulse.

"Are you nervous?" Jennifer asked.

"A little," I said.

"Try to relax," Jennifer said. "Take a few deep breaths."

I did as Jennifer asked. She checked the reading, and wrote it down in my chart. Then she released the air from the black strap and removed it. After setting it back in the bin, she stepped over in front of me with a cloth tape measure. She gestured for me to come and stand in front of her. I slid from the table and joined her.

"I'll just get these measurements," Jennifer said, taking my gown from me. "Then you can put your gown on."

Jennifer had me stand up as straight as possible. She measured down my left arm, from the top of my shoulder to the tip of my middle finger. Then she repeated the process on my left arm. She jotted these down and returned to measure across from one shoulder to the other. This was definitely a new development, and I wondered why in the world my measurements were being taken. I figured it couldn't hurt anything.

Jennifer returned and had me move my hands up and out straight to my sides. She demonstrated for me to put my feet right next to each other, and I did so. Then she measured around my chest at the nipples. She jotted this down and measured my waist at my bellybutton. The last things she measured were my hips at their widest points, and around my neck. What in the world did she need all of that for?

"Okay," Jennifer said. "You may put your gown on." She turned and busied herself with my records. "Doctor Dinesh will be here in a moment."

I started to wonder if people got into the medical profession to poke and prod at other people, like low end interrogators of sorts. Whenever I saw Rajan, he was either poking me with a needle, or prodding around my body looking for signs of unusual development. Jennifer seemed entirely too busy to care what I did, so I wrapped the gown around me as quickly as possible. By the time I got the stupid thing tied in the back, Rajan entered the room.

"Hey Bailey," Rajan said. "How you doing today kiddo?"

"Good I guess," I said.

"Did you have a good Halloween?" he asked.

"I had a lot of fun," I said.

"Good!" He gave me a smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Maybe we can talk about it later in my office."

Jennifer had also turned to smile at me. Apparently it was a big deal to these two that I had a good Halloween. My mind wandered back to it for a moment, as Rajan walked over next to Jennifer. I instantly recalled the dancing, not only with Vince, but the other girls. There were a few other boys too, but none of them as special as my first dance with Vince. He truly was a nice guy. Tiffany really picked a winner for a friend in him.

"Why don't you hop on up here?" Rajan asked, patting the exam table. "I'll take a quick look at your charts."

"He seems a little…" Jennifer's voice trailed off as she conversed in the corner with Rajan.

A few seconds later, Rajan pulled over a stool and sat with my chart in front of me. He was actually below me, as the stool made his chin come to about my knee on the exam table. After a few moments of flipping my papers back and forth, he tossed the file onto the counter. Jennifer soon gathered it up and held her pencil like she was ready to take a letter. They both looked so serious.

"May I?" Rajan asked, reaching for my left foot.

I nodded.

"Have you had any swelling in the ankles or pain in your feet or hands?" Rajan asked, as he started to massage various areas of my feet.

"No," I said.

"Any unexplained bruises or joint pain?" he asked, as he held my left knee and flexed my foot.

"None that I can recall," I said, watching him do the same to my other foot.

"Do you know what color nail polish you're wearing today?" Rajan asked.

"What?" I asked, wondering how in the world he knew.

"Ah, I got you there!" Rajan said, smiling. "I just want you to relax, Bailey." He patted my leg a couple of times and rolled over to the counter. "Nurse Sweeny told me you had an elevated pulse today."

"I'm just a little nervous," I said.

I looked down at my feet. It was then that I realized I could vaguely make out the fuchsia nail polish underneath my socks. Thinking Rajan had just assumed with my condition that I wore nail polish, I felt a little uneasy that he had just seen through the lightweight cotton covering my toes. I hadn't wanted to remove it, as it had been the last remaining memento from Halloween. Sadly I had to scrap the false nails on my fingers by Saturday afternoon.

"I figured that to be the case," Rajan said, as he smiled back at me. "Have you had any problems with the treatments I've been administering? Dizziness? Fatigue?"

"My friends pointed out that I seem a bit distracted," I said. "Usually a week after each shot."

"Well…" Rajan flipped a page over in my folder, and then looked up at me. "That would make sense at this point in time." He stood from his stool. "It's also what I planned on talking to you about today."

"What is it?" I asked, sensing something was wrong.

Rajan held the folder down at his waist, and looked straight at me. "I went over your blood work twice this past week," he said, moving to lean against the counter. "I was hoping there would be some change by now, but there's no evidence of any. I think we discussed hypogonadism didn't we?"

"I believe so," I said, knowing that term had been in my head ever since Rajan told me about it. "You said something should've changed. Is something wrong?"

"Well…" Rajan held up my file and flipped through it. "Wrong would be a strong word for it." He walked back over with my chart. "You have a more pronounced case than I first suspected."

"I do?"

Rajan nodded, showing me a chart that looked entirely Greek to me. "The blood work brought it to my attention, and looking at you today I can see evidence of it." His face turned rather somber. "Testosterone levels are a very picky thing, and the slightest change should've had the impact we were looking for. However, I'm afraid the testosterone treatments have been ineffective, and I'm even at the opinion now that your body is fighting the treatments. I'm recommending we discontinue them after today. At least in the dosage you're receiving. I remember us having a discussion about this as well."

"Yes," I said, straining to get comfortable in the stupid paper gown. "I'd like to stop them all together."

"We'll be giving you a couple more at lower dosages," Rajan said, going back to my charts. "And we'll be monitoring those very closely to see if your body reacts negatively. It also seems you have a slight case of AIS."

"What's that?"

"Androgen insensitivity syndrome," Rajan said. "It's very mild, as there are no signs of abnormal genitalia, but it appears you may have reached your maximum potential for development. At least as far as your body alone can manage."

"I don't understand," I said, growing more concerned.

"I'll try to explain," Rajan said, putting the chart on the counter. "The typical male adolescent needs testosterone, among many other things, for their body to go through virilization during puberty. This creates androgens which in turn help develop the masculine features resulting at the end of puberty. Pubic hair, facial hair, growth of genitalia and even bone structure rely on these androgens." He made sure I was with him before continuing. "If the body is insensitive, or the cells can't respond to androgens, it can prevent or impair the development of secondary sex characteristics, and in some extreme cases the primary function of the male specimen."

"So basically I have something that won't allow my body to be male?"

"In a way, yes," Rajan said. "That's the simplest way to look at it." His head nodded in a gesture toward my lap. "I've been watching for any signs of development in your genitalia, and they just aren't developing." He looked back into my eyes. "I was hoping the testosterone would promote development, but the AIS is interfering with that treatment."

"Well what can you do to fix it?" I asked.

Rajan motioned for Jennifer to hand him another folder. "There are a few options, but we can't really fix it," Rajan said, opening the folder. "Currently we can only treat the symptoms. There is really nothing that can be done about AIS at this current point in time."

"Wait…" I said. "There's no cure for it?"

"Unfortunately there is little that can be done about it," Rajan said. "We can manage your growth with hormones. This will provide you with a somewhat normal puberty. You may not grow up to be a basketball or football player, but there is hope for commonality."

I shook my head at his suggestion. There wasn't any reason to try to be a clone of Tom or Justin, when I wouldn't be able to completely become a man. It seemed ridiculous to me.

Rajan looked through the folder some more. "We can also let you continue to develop in your current state, by maintaining your hormone levels. It will lead to a slower puberty and you'll appear more androgynous."

"So I'll be stuck in the middle basically?" I asked.

"Precisely," Rajan said.

"That doesn't seem so bad," I said.

"Not for you. No," Rajan said. "I believe that's what you originally wanted, if I'm not mistaken."

"It is," I said, showing a small bit of relief. "I mean, maybe this isn't bad news after all."

"I like your optimism," Rajan said. "This can also be a viable option if you're considering sexual reassignment down the road." He glanced up at me. "You can, if you wish, go the other way from this point, and develop toward the female side of the spectrum." His shoulders slumped. "All of the options have their own risks. There may also be need for emergency surgeries down the road, if other problems arise, but don't let that keep you from pursuing the life you want to live."

"I don't know how to take any of this," I said, starting to panic. "I don't even know what half of this means."

"It's understandable," Rajan said. "I know you're scared, but we can take this one step at a time."

"I don't even know what step to take first," I said.

"We can discuss it in more detail in my office," Rajan said. "If you want, we can bring your father in."

"Stepfather," I said. "And no." I shook my head at Rajan. "He just complicates things. This won't be the 'cure' he's looking for."

"I understand," Rajan said. "I'll have Nurse Sweeny talk with him."

He motioned for Jennifer to act upon his suggestion, and she started gathering up papers and other information. Her haphazard approach to doing that almost fit with what was going on in my head. I felt like I was scrambling for information, tossing papers together to form some kind of solution to the problems I now had. Rajan gathered up some of my paperwork. After walking over to me, he clapped his hand down on my left shoulder. A reassuring smile spread across his face.

"Don't worry," Rajan said. "We'll get you through this." Afterwards he left the room.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, nothing's wrong with you honey," Jennifer said, dropping what she was doing and stepping over to consol me. "We'll get it all sorted out, and you'll go on to have a happy normal life."

"You must have a strange view of what normal is," I said.

"It comes with the territory," Jennifer said. "Come on. Let's get you dressed."

Jennifer helped me down from the table. She had to brace me until the blood returned to my legs. Then she turned around to give me a bit of privacy. I hurried into my jeans. Jennifer turned just as I had them zipped up. She took my gown from me, and waited for me to slip my shirt on. Then she walked me out of the exam room and down to Rajan's office.

Rajan was sitting in his high-backed black leather chair when I walked into the office. Jennifer left me once I passed the threshold. The carpet felt horrible still, but it was a bit warmer than the tile floor of the exam room. This was especially so where the sun streamed in through the large window. Behind his large wooden desk, Rajan looked rather regal. He gave me another one of his reassuring smiles as I strolled over to the couch.

"I know I fed you a lot of information in there, and I'm sorry," he said. "I should've given it to you in more manageable bites."

"I don't know how on earth you would make it manageable," I said.

"Perhaps smaller words?" Rajan offered up a half smile.

I returned the smile, but my heart wasn't in a light mood. "I understood the words. I'm just… I'm still trying to process it."

"Well let's process it together," Rajan said, flipping open my folder. "One step at a time…"

Nine whole days had passed since I saw Rajan. Over a week had gone by, and I still felt as I did that day in his office. The girls knew something was wrong. Tiffany and Tawny perhaps sensed it the most. I just didn't have the heart to tell anyone, at least not yet. To be honest, the one person I wanted to talk to about it, I hadn't seen for awhile. I actually wanted to talk it over with Nathan, of all people.

Tom had insisted that my blood be tested again. Rajan couldn't even convince him that he had it run twice, and was positive of the results. It was like Tom didn't want to hear those results. He didn't want to see the real problem. Instead, Tom wanted to push it all into the realm of something curable. He had to be the one to fix me, for some reason. I feared this had more to do with his past than the present.

I'd been so consumed in all of my problems, that I couldn't see the storm of trouble surrounding me. I didn't even want to hear my friends. When they told me kids were starting to talk, about the Halloween party, and how they had discovered I was dressed like a sailor girl, I ignored it. That's why I missed the signs. All it took was a randomly rare day, when Tiffany failed to walk with me back to homeroom after lunch.

"Hey sissy!"

I instinctively raised my eyes to see a young boy of Mexican descent coming toward me. Maybe I was so used to the berating comment coming my way, that I acknowledged it for that reason alone. At any rate, this kid seemed delighted that the insult got my attention. In fact, it opened the gateway to the scene forming amidst the busy hallway. He honestly believed he had called me on what he thought I was.

"See," the boy said to another. "I told you he'd answer to it."

"I wonder why she didn't paint her nails this week Gil," the other boy responded.

"Who knows," Gil said. "She probably ran out of polish using it all the time."

I finally recognized the two boys as part of the trio that knocked me down the month before. Since there were only two, I assumed the third was close by. He probably sat in the crowd ready to strike. I had very few options, as the two boys came toward me rather quickly. Either I could prepare for another trip to the floor, or I could try to avoid them. I chose to go around and avoid them, but braced myself for the inevitable.

"I heard you like dancing with the boys," Gil said, causing a few students to pause and look at me. "Would you like to dance with me?"

He stepped in front of me. I tried to step around him, but he stepped in my way again. The other boy came up beside me, and together they blocked my path. My eyes lowered to the floor, and I felt the uncontrollable inner wincing of my body prepared to be struck. I felt a presence behind me, and I knew it was the third boy of their trio. Gil lowered his head to get right up into my face.

"You don't want to dance with me sissy?" Gil asked.

"I just want to go to class," I said.

"What's the matter?" Gil asked. "You don't feel like dancing without your little sailor girl costume?"

"I heard she had cute little curls under her hat," one of the boys said.

He flipped my hair up, causing me to pull my head away. The other boy caught me on the recoil, and flipped my hair up on the other side. I shook my head vigorously, trying to get them to back away from it. This just made them laugh at me. My eyes raised to peer into Gil's brown eyes. He had a menacing looking on his pudgy face.

"Did you wear panties under your costume?" Gil asked.

"I bet she did," the boy on my right said. "I heard she wore makeup too."

"And perfume," the other boy said.

"You went all out then," Gil said. "How many boys did you make out with?"

"None," I said.

"I bet it was at least ten," Gil said. "I bet those lips of yours got a workout." He quickly reached up to squeeze my cheeks, making my lips pout out.

"Cut it out," I said, backing away.

Only I couldn't back away much at all. The other two boys pushed me back to Gil. He reached for the waistband of my jeans. I, in turn, slapped his hand away, which only produced a smile. Another of the boys grabbed my butt, making me jerk away toward the other boy. He proceeded to take a lock of my hair and mockingly sniff it. Gil started laughing, and I decided to give him a small shove to get by.

This didn't please him at all. Gil reached out and slapped my pre-algebra book from my hands. A crowd of students started to gather, as he callously kicked the book across the floor. I made one last effort to brush past him, when he shoved me back. The boy's soon got around me and started shoving me back and forth, around in a circle. It was slow at first, and I could see the students all whispering amongst themselves.

"I guess if the sissy won't dance with us, we can make her dance for us," Gil said.

"Too bad she's not dressed all pretty for us," one boy said, then shoved me over to the other.

Some of the students started to laugh at my predicament. No matter how much I tried to get away from the boys, the spinning and tripping around confused me. I didn't even know which boy I was headed to until I got there, and then they would push me away randomly to another boy. My hair flew around in my face, temporarily obscuring my sight. If I let my guard down for a moment, they took the opportunity to grope me before spinning me away.

"Please stop," I said, as I stumbled toward Gil.

"Thtop it you guyth," one of the boys said in a mocking lisp.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch," the other boy said, before pushing me back into Gil.

Gil's hands clamped down on my upper arms. I winced a little from the pain. As I struggled to get away, he just laughed with his friends. Finally I tried swatting at him. This just made them laugh harder, as I looked like a girl slapping with only my forearms free. He then shook me back and forth violently, until most of the fight had gone out of me. After a moment, the other two kids walked up closer behind me.

"Let me go!" I said, trying to sound as tough as possible.

Gil lifted his right hand. I thought for a moment he was actually going to let me go. Then my face felt a searing pain, as his hand flew across it. The jerk had actually slapped me! I could feel my cheek burning now. It pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as the blood rushed to it. I could actually feel the shape of his hand on my face.

"Don't back talk me girl!" Gil said.

The other two boys laughed uncontrollably behind me. Gil grabbed my arm once more, and then shoved me hard into one of the other boys. He spun me around and shoved me even harder back into Gil. Soon they were pushing me faster and rougher than they had done previously. The hallway started to spin. I could hear voices of students. Some asked the boys to give it a rest, others wanted them to continue.

My knees became weak from all of the spinning. My body felt sore from twisting and jerking, as well as the hard landings I was experiencing in the boys' hands. I lashed out. A few of my backhands and slaps connected, but they didn't seem to faze the boys. Eventually I collapsed to the floor, shot back and forth like a pin ball into their legs and knees. I fell on my back and looked up to see Gil's foot about to stomp down on me.

As I peered up toward the florescent hall lights, I braced myself to be stomped into the floor by all three boys. I could hear a female adult's voice beg the question of what was going on. Sadly I felt it to be too distant. She would never discover this in time to stop any damage. While I watched the inevitable about to reign down on me, I suddenly saw a hand appear out of the corner of my eye.

Actually, the hand was a fist. It connected soundly against Gil's cheek, sending him reeling back into the crowd of students. They in turn pushed him back. This student, who I didn't recognize at all, was now pelting Gil with hit after hit. Then I saw Jason Coleman over me. He shoved one of the other boys, and stepped over me to take him back away. I tried to collect myself, to maybe help out in some way.

The fight, however, was close to an end before it even began. Several teachers, the principal and even the school security guard were approaching the scene. The principal screamed for us to break it up, but Jason didn't want to let his target go. He dragged him back over to where Gil was being pulverized, and threw him to the floor. The third boy had taken off into the crowd of students.

"Coleman! Bellamy!" the principal shouted. "My office now!"

The security guard had to drag the other kid off of Gil. Meanwhile, Jason and the other boy were being escorted by teachers to the principal's office. Finally they got Gil up, and determined he had to be taken to the nurse. I watched the other three being hauled off to the office. Slowly I stood, prepared to dust myself off and head to class. That's when the principal turned to me.

"I'll be seeing you in my office as well, Mister Walker," he said, holding his hand up to show the way.

As I passed Principal Johnson, Vince rushed up to me. He had a solemn and concerned look on his face, but knew we didn't have time to talk. I looked down to see him holding my book up. After taking it from him, I gave him a subtle smile, and proceeded to the office. It always felt like a death march when going to the principal's office. I can laugh now about it, but students always thought it had this magical power or something.

"Miss Swanson I need the files for Gilberto Rodriguez, Jason Coleman, Patrick Bellamy, Shane Connors and Bailey Walker," Mr. Johnson said, as he ushered me into the outer office. "And could you tell the nurse I'd like to see Gilberto when he's done there?"

"I'll get right on it," Ms. Swanson said.

"Have a seat," Mr. Johnson said to me, "but don't get comfortable." He turned to the kid who had jumped in to rescue me from Gilberto. "Mister Connors…"

At least now I knew who he was, but I didn't know why he jumped in to help. I watched Shane follow the principal into his office. The room grew quiet. Patrick, I now knew his name too, wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. Jason on the other hand looked directly at me from across the room. He gave me a knowing half-smile, and a quick wink.

I sighed heavily, and looked down at my sneakers. The left one had come untied, but I didn't feel like fixing it. After a moment, the secretary got up to call the nurse on the intercom. Once she got that small communication out of the way, she lifted a small stack of files and went to knock on the principal's door. She disappeared into the room, and shortly after came back out.

About the time the principal finished with Shane, Gilberto came into the office to report. He had a rather quickly developing black eye on his left side, and a small cut on his bottom lip. The principal ushered him in right away. Gilberto passed me, sneering at me with the side of his face. I looked away, deciding to fixate my attention on the clock. The principal wandered over to the secretary's desk before going in.

"I need to see Eddie Nichols," he said, "and his file as well."

"Sure," Ms. Swanson said, getting right to work on the request.

Minutes ticked away on the office clock. Eventually Gilberto left the principal's office and reported back to class. The principal took Patrick next. About the time his door closed, the third kid from earlier popped into the office. He had a solemn look on his face, and when he saw me, the look turned into one of malcontent. He stepped over to the secretary and handed her a note.

"Have a seat Eddie," Ms. Swanson said, after glancing at the note. "Mister Johnson will see you in a moment."

The moment actually turned out to be twenty minutes. I know, because I watched it all on the clock. Patrick came out right as the tardy bell rang for next period. He wouldn't even look at me as he strolled out of the office. Mister Johnson waved Eddie in, and stepped over to get his file from the secretary. As Eddie strolled in behind the principal, he mouthed the word "bitch" at me.

"So what did you two do?" Ms. Swanson asked, glancing back and forth at us.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"Oh," Ms. Swanson said. "You all say that."

"He actually didn't," Jason said. "Those three were harassing him in the hallway, and Shane and I jumped in to help him."

"Well that was nice of you," Ms. Swanson said. "You two friends?"

"Yeah," Jason said, giving me a pleasant look. "We go way back."

I smiled, and shook my head at his comment. Unless he considered bullying me in the past as an act of friendship, there was no other way Jason and I went way back.

"Well I'm afraid it may cost you a few days in I.S.S.," Ms. Swanson said. "Unfortunately…"

She went back to work on something. I looked at Jason, trying to express some sort of remorse for him getting punished for this. He just shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a goofy look. I think he was trying to make me feel better. It worked a little bit, but I still felt bad about this entire ordeal. The door to Principal Johnson's office suddenly swung open.

"Coleman," he said. "You're on deck."

"Great…" I said, after the door shut again. "I hate being last."

"Last is usually a good thing in this office," Ms. Swanson said. She looked up at me. "Usually by then Mister Johnson has the whole story, and it's over quicker."

After a quick smile, she stood to walk to the other room. She came back a minute later with several printouts to sort through. Amidst the sounds of paper shuffling and the clock ticking, I had plenty of opportunity to collect my thoughts. I tried to work out my side of the story in my head, preparing myself for any questions he might ask. My stories always seemed to fail when I got in trouble, but that didn't stop me from trying.

"Alright," Jason said, as he exited the inner office.

The principal strolled out into the outer office, and watched Jason leave. He turned to the secretary and shook his head. Then he turned to look at me. With a raised eyebrow, he gestured for me to join him in his office. This time, he let me go first. I stepped in and strolled over to a chair to sit down. The door closed, and Mister Johnson strolled quietly over behind his desk.

"Bailey Walker," Mr. Johnson said, as he sat down. "I like that name." He looked directly at me. "Why don't you tell me what happened today?"

"I was going to homeroom after lunch, and those three started harassing me," I said.

"Eddie, Patrick and Gilberto?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"Yes," I said. "They started pushing me around and knocked me to the floor."

"They claimed you were fighting back," Mr. Johnson said. "Were you?"

"I was pushing to get away from them," I said. "I wasn't fighting though. I just wanted them to leave me alone."

"How did Shane and Jason get involved?"

"They just came and defended me," I said. "I didn't ask them to though. I didn't even expect anyone to help."

"There were some allegations that some comments were made that many would find derogatory in nature," Mr. Johnson said. "Is this true?"

"Yes," I said, looking down. "They were trying to humiliate me I think."

"Well, unless this has been an ongoing thing, I can't really do anything about the verbal assault," Mr. Johnson. "Have they been continuously harassing you?"

"This is the first time the three have ever talked to me," I said.

Mister Johnson nodded. "I just hope you can understand that they're simply words," he said, "and they can't hurt you."

"I know that," I said. "It's not the first time I've ever been insulted."

"Okay," Mr. Johnson said. "You're welcome to talk to the counselor after this if you'd like."

"No," I said. "I'm fine." I tried to reassure him, if anyone, with a half-hearted smile.

"The other boys involved in this conflict got three days of in-school suspension," Mr. Johnson said. "I'll be calling all of your parents after we're through here." He looked over his report one last time. "If you were actually participating in the fight, I'd give you the same as them. However, I believe that you were indeed only trying to get away." He stood up from his desk. "So I'm just going to give you a note, and you can head back to class."

"Thank you Mister Johnson," I said, standing from my chair.

"I'm hoping this is the end of it," Mr. Johnson said, "but come straight to me if they, or any other students start harassing you again. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, feeling better now that I had someone to turn to, even though I probably would not turn to him.

"Hopefully this will be the last time I see you in here for something of this nature," Mr. Johnson said, as he handed me a slip of paper.

"I hope so too," I said.

"You have a good rest of the day Bailey."

He walked me over to the door, and opened it for me. I strolled out, sharing a subtle smile with the secretary on my way. As I walked through the empty halls, I let my relief wash over me. It made me feel a little light headed, but completely invigorated. I didn't need this on top of everything else in my life. I'm glad things worked out, at least for the moment. It felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

I continued on my way to my locker, to get my reading book, but midway there the bell rang. Students started pouring out of the classrooms. I had missed an entire hour of class time. It actually made me mad, because I enjoyed reading class. I guess I just had to live with it, and get my things for speech. At least seeing Megan in that class would cheer me up.

The rest of the day dragged on without incident, but I had nothing but a long talk waiting for me at home. Since the school called my mother, she made it a point to be there when I arrived. She had been sitting with Tom, perhaps quite a while, and were murmuring when I came in the front door. The bus roared down the street as I closed the door behind me. My brother wasn't home; his car missing from the driveway.

"Bailey?" my mother called from the living room.

"It's me," I said, reluctantly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, stepping over to the top of the staircase.

"I've been better," I said, trudging up the stairs.

"You're not hurt or anything are you?"

"No," I said. "I just don't feel that great."

"Well we'd like to talk to you," she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder as I reached the top of the stairs. "It won't take long, and then you can go lie down."

Apparently my parents had no concept of time. Their idea of something not taking long, consisted of an hour long talk and a game of twenty questions. They concluded that what had happened was the honest truth; that I had been bullied at school. Tom's line of questioning pried at trying to see if I instigated anything, but his investigation came up short. Mother, on the other hand, invested all of her questioning to see if they had done any mental or physical damage to me.

By the time we got past the five hundred simple rules of avoiding conflict, Tom and my mother both happened upon a solution. I do use the term solution loosely here, as it had nothing to do with fixing the problem. They suggested I take some time away from dressing or acting the part of a girl. In their mind, this would probably cause the other kids to back off. However, in my mind, this sounded like another ploy of Tom's to get me to stop being girly.

They also thought I could benefit with a little time off from seeing my friends. Tom felt their influence caused me to pursue things which made me more feminine. I tried to argue that it was my own decisions that made me pursue these things, but he shot me down. My mother claimed it would only be for a week or two. Tom suggested until after the Thanksgiving weekend, and my mother quickly accepted that as a good time. I reluctantly gave in, sad that I wouldn't get to see my friends outside of school for a little over two weeks.

After all things were discussed and decided, I dragged myself to my room. I tossed my school bag across the room, pulled out my diary, and collapsed on my bed. My hand feverishly flew across the pages, writing about the unfair circumstances of the events that day. I wrote about the jerks at school and the jerks at home. Eventually my hand became sore and began to tire. My eyes grew heavy.

I vaguely recall my mother coming in that night. She had me take an aspirin with a small glass of water, making sure I drank it all. I managed to get my shoes off, and with her help I crawled under the covers. Once she got everything situated with me, she cautiously took my diary, closed it, and set it on the table next to my bed. Then she turned off my lights and left me to drift into a long sleep.

My mother stayed home with me the next day. We talked a little, but I mostly stayed in my room. In fact, I got rather used to my room the next two weeks. I got to see my friends at school, but I reluctantly had to turn down invites to hang out. Tiffany and I still talked on the phone. I really wanted to see her though, to talk in person. She would understand what I was going through.

The days passed slowly. I got to hang out with Nathan and Justin the following Monday. While neither Nathan nor Justin were on the varsity team, they seemed sad about the varsity missing the finals by one game. Justin kept saying they'd go to state next year. He claimed he would be starting quarterback, and Nathan would be starting as a sophomore. They'd "tear up the field" in his words. Nathan laughed at this, knowing it would be unrealistic. He claimed there were far too many talented juniors ahead of him on the team right now. It was pretty rare to make varsity as a sophomore.

Though I didn't care too much for football, just talking to someone different in the house was refreshing. Nathan told me I could come over and hang out any time I wanted, but I seldom took him up on this offer. Though I desperately wanted to talk to him about the recent events in my life, with our slight bit of history, I still felt a little nervous around him. It wasn't too bad with Justin around. So I kept my time seeing Nathan to times when Justin would be there too.

The days continued to trudge along. Thursday morning I got a somewhat rude awakening from my mother. She had pulled the curtains back from my window, and was shaking me awake. The clock said nine o'clock, and I knew I didn't have school that day. It was Thanksgiving day. I tried to turn back over to sleep, but my mother pulled my sheets away and shook me more.

"You have to get up now sweetie," she said.

"Why?" I asked. "I don't have to go anywhere."

"You need to get a shower," my mother said. "My sister will be here soon."

"Why did they have to come here?" I asked.

"Because her eldest daughter, Laurie, is starting her new job in Arizona come January," my mother said. "I haven't seen her since she started college, and I thought it would be nice to see her once more. Thanksgiving seemed like a good time to see them all. Besides…" She patted me on the head. "You like your cousins."

"Laurie is okay," I said, "but Kelly is a pain."

"She likes you," my mother said. "You're a month older than her and she kind of looks up to you."

"She's always following me around, getting in my things…" I sighed. "And she has an obsession with pinching me."

"You haven't seen her in over four years," my mother said. "That phase is probably far in the past."

"I doubt it," I grumbled.

"Just go get your shower," my mother said. "You'll feel better."

Following her inept prognostication, my mother left my room to check on the turkey. She always thought showers were instant cures for anything. Truthfully, I just wanted to be left alone. Since I couldn't be myself, I didn't want to be anything for anybody. Taking a break from dressing was the dumbest thing they ever came up with. All it did for me is make me miss it more. Then again, maybe that was the point.

The shower did feel good, but it didn't make me feel better. As the water cascaded down my body, I started examining myself. It wasn't every day I had the opportunity and time to really look myself over. My body appeared very much the same as it always had. I remained lean, the slight amount of muscle that I could retain just served to shape my body out. My head dropped, water rushing over my hair as I looked down at my slender feet. They hadn't changed size or shape either. Nothing about me had changed.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Stringy locks of hair started to cling to my face. I decided to let my dirty blonde hair grow out. Perhaps by summer I could go back to the spa and let Pam do something really cute with it. She had done a really fantastic job the last time, and I loved my adventure at the spa. Thinking about the spa got me thinking about the past summer. I sighed, slinging my head back and letting my wet hair whip behind me.

"Why am I even thinking about it?" I quietly asked myself. "There's no way I can keep this up."

I grabbed the shampoo, and slowly lathered my hair with it. Citrus-based fragrances filled the room as I massaged the shampoo into my scalp. About the time I went to rinse it out, I heard the faint chime of our doorbell. At least I would be safe in here for the moment. Hopefully the act of closing my bedroom door would keep my nosey cousin out of my things. If only I could be so lucky. Yet, something told me I better finish my shower quickly and see what she was up to.

My hair was still damp as I rushed out of the bathroom. Just as I suspected, my bedroom door sat wide open. Most likely my cousin had busied herself with rummaging through my drawers. She no doubt had her hands on my diary by now. I turned into my bedroom, and had to admit I was shocked. My room looked to be in perfect order, with only the addition of one extra body in the room.

"Kelly?" I asked quietly, not really recognizing my cousin.

Kelly's brown eyes opened wide with excitement. Her bronze face lit up, and she smiled as she dropped her hands to the side of my bed to help her stand up. She had been sitting there quietly, by herself, I guess since the time they got here. Her black hair had been put up with a pale blue ribbon that matched her innocent looking party dress. I assumed that her family had come dressed for the occasion, which made me feel like a bum in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

"You look nice," I said. "Different… but I guess I haven't seen you since second grade."

"Third actually," Kelly said, still smiling. "You look different than I remember too."

She stepped over and put her arms around me. I returned her hug, but secretly wondered when the pinching would come. As she broke the embrace, and stepped away, I could tell things were different. My mom had been right. I guess we both grew up. Kelly almost looked like her older sister had, when Laurie went off to college. It was kind of interesting to me, but it made me think of Tiffany and Kate, and how much they looked the same.

"So how is junior high here?" Kelly asked.

"It sucks," I said. "Way different than last year."

"Oh… I know! Right?" Kelly said. "It's like the world just changed or something." She flopped back down on my bed. "Girls are all in competition about makeup and boob size. I even got two of my friends pestering me to be a cheerleader next year!" She looked up at me, and bit her lip. "You're probably not into this conversation at all. I can tell."

"No," I said. "I mean…" I stepped over and sat at my desk chair. "The last time I saw you we were fighting over candy."

"Oh…" Kelly laughed a bit. "I've changed quite a bit since then."

"I can tell," I said.

"What about you?" Kelly asked. "What's new with you?"

"I'm actually having a hard time adjusting," I said.

"My mom said you'd had a bit of trouble this year," Kelly said. "Bullies and stuff."

"Yeah…" I reached up and scrunched my wet hair a bit with my fingers. "Bullies and stuff."

Kelly cocked her head to the right. "I was wondering --"

"Bailey," my mom said, tapping on the frame to my door. "Come in and talk to your aunt for a few minutes."

"Bailey?" Kelly asked, after my mother left.

"It's a long story," I said, standing with my cousin. "My mom didn't tell you?"

Kelly shook her head. "Think you got time to tell me?"

"Maybe later I can try," I said, waiting for her to exit the bedroom before me.

I approached the living room, and could hear the vaguely familiar voice of my other cousin, Laurie, talking to my brother. Tom and my aunt's husband, William, were nowhere to be seen. They probably had stepped out into the garage to talk and smoke a cigar. Tom always had a knack for bringing out the nice things for special occasions. I just saw it as a fake attempt to be likeable, but lately I'd been wrong about my stepfather.

"Zachary!" Laurie exclaimed, springing from the couch in the living room. "Or, I'm sorry, Bailey I guess it is now."

"Hi Laurie," I said, producing a smile.

She rushed over to give me a friendly hug. Laurie hadn't changed much at all, and the mental picture of her I had stored away in my head matched exactly to what I expected. She was slender, a bit on the tall side, and had the same bronze complexion as her younger sister. They both got a favorable gene somewhere that made them tan well. Granted my brother and I could tan well enough, but our cousins looked a lot better months after summer passed.

"You look so different," Laurie said, stepping back from the hug. "But good."

"I noticed that too," Kelly said, seeming to want to be in the conversation in any way possible.

"Thanks," I said, before I heard another female voice and felt another pair of arms spinning me around into a hug.

"Bailey…" my aunt said. "You look so grown up."

"Hi Aunt Kimberly," I said. "It's nice to see you again."

"It's weird," Laurie said. "You look different, and you have a different name too."

"You're like a whole other person," Kelly said.

"I don't see it," Aunt Kimberly said. "You look exactly the same to me. Maybe lost a bit of your baby fat?"

"I guess," I said.

"Maybe it's because I haven't seen you in so long," Laurie said. "Justin kind of looks different too."

"That's probably from the weight lifting," Justin said.

Justin stood, and came over to join us. I pictured him stepping in to rescue me from the swarm of women surrounding me. He just stood and smiled, taking on the goofy family-is-over part of his personality. Interestingly, he had on khaki slacks and a blue and gray sweater. Laurie had on a black knee-length a-line skirt and a forest green sweater. As I glanced back, to see my aunt in a heather gray dress, I realized I was the most underdressed one at the gathering. I had to change into a nice sweater at least, but I was surrounded by the gab squad.

"So how are you doing in school?" Aunt Kimberly asked.

"Okay I guess," I said.

"Junior high is rough," Laurie said. "I had a hard time with it."

"Just wait until high school," Justin said, looking at Kelly and me.

"Where's Aunt Susan?" Kelly asked, after glancing at me.

"She's in the kitchen," Aunt Kimberly said, not taking her focus off of me. "So your mom told me you had a little run-in with bullies a couple weeks ago."

"Just some jerks at school," I said, watching Kelly slip into the kitchen.

"They'll move on eventually," Aunt Kimberly said. "What classes do you like most?"

"Art and reading," I said. "Science is neat too I guess."

"I loved science," Laurie said. "Chemistry was the most fun. Wish you guys could have the teacher I had here at your high school."

After a few hundred more prodding questions from my aunt, she moved on to my brother. He livened up the conversation a bit, talking about how great his senior year would be. I kind of drifted off to the side of the conversation, and stood near the kitchen door. Between my aunt, Laurie and Justin talking, I could hear a quiet conversation between my mother and Kelly, though I couldn't make out the subject. Everything seemed normal for a change. It was like life had fallen back to the ordinary mundane, and the past few months were behind us all.

I stood and watched for a moment. Every word, every thought seemed focused around a normal family conversation. There wasn't any mention of my screwed up existence of living as a girl half of the time. That seemed so far removed from everything, yet it resonated in my mind. I started to picture myself removed from the family. Maybe things would go back to normal without me. It was about this time that Kelly came out of the kitchen, followed closely by my mother, and stood quietly next to me.

"Dinner will be about two hours," my mother said. "Kim, why don't we talk in here and let the kids run off and enjoy themselves?" She gave us all a knowing smile.

"That's fine," Aunt Kimberly said. She stood and looked directly at Kelly. "Stay out of trouble."

"Why don't we watch the game?" Laurie asked Justin.

"Sure," Justin said, seeming a bit surprised that Laurie would be into football.

Kelly tugged my shirt sleeve, and I turned to face her. "Come on," she said. "Football's boring."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Your mom said you had a cool art project you were working on," Kelly said. "Can I see it?"

"Sure," I said with a proud smile. "It's in my room."

I led Kelly back to my room. As I got down to pull a box of random keepsakes from under my bed, she quietly closed my door. She strolled over and took her spot on my bed again. I sat the box up on my bed, and slipped the lid off. After removing the latest art project for her to look at, I stepped over to my dresser. I grabbed a pair of my socks from the top drawer, and then thought about putting something nicer on. Kelly busied herself with looking over the picture, while I opened up my closet.

"She's pretty," Kelly said. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Well… she's a girl," I said, "and a friend. Her name's Tawny." I stepped over to get a picture of Tawny, and one of Tiffany. "Here's a picture of her."

"Wow," Kelly said. "You did a really nice job of her." She glanced at the other picture in my hand. "Who's that?"

"My actual girlfriend," I said, handing her the picture. "Tiffany."

"She's pretty too," Kelly said, holding both pictures over the art project. "You sure you don't like Tawny more?"

"Why would you say that?" I asked, looking at the limited selection of clothes in my closet.

"You put a lot of care into this picture," Kelly said. "Her eyes look almost real, and deeper emotionally."

"It's just a picture," I said, trying to brush off her observations.

"I don't know," Kelly said. "You put some real thought into this. Your pencil and shading gets softer near her cheeks and chin. Her lips are almost perfect."

I stepped over and took the art project from her. "It's just a picture," I said again. Then I slipped it back into the box.

"Well it's not like I'm going to tell on you," Kelly said. "I don't even know the girls."

"There's nothing to tell anyway," I said, turning away from her. I went back to fumbling around in my closet. "Why do you care anyway?"

"I care because you're family," Kelly said. "And I like you. I know I used to pester you a lot when we were younger, and I'm sorry about that."

"You could say that was an understatement," I said.

"I actually liked you more than our other cousins," Kelly said.

"Really?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. "You never showed it."

"That was my stupid way of showing it," Kelly said. "I paid more attention to you. Truth is, I thought you were more interesting. You were different in some way, but definitely a good way."

I slapped one of my shirts out of the way. "There isn't anything in here to wear."

"What's wrong with what you got on?" Kelly asked.

"Everyone's all dressed up," I said. "I feel… I don't know how I feel."

"Maybe because you're looking at the wrong side of your closet?" Kelly asked.

"What?!" I nearly shrieked, as I spun around to face her. "Did you go through my things? If you did…"

"I didn't," Kelly said, sitting up straighter. "Chill."

"What did you mean then?"

"Well…" Kelly glanced around my room. "You don't do a very good job of hiding it." She turned back to give me an understanding look. "Nail polish bottles on your desk. Cherry body lotion on your nightstand. Camisoles and other intimates, clearly not in your mother's size, that I saw when she had me toss a dish towel in the laundry room." She gestured toward the foot of my closet. "Most guys don't wear heels."

"What are you a junior detective now?" I asked.

"Those are just a few on a long list of stuff I've seen since I got here," Kelly said.

I suddenly felt very nervous in my own skin. "There's other stuff?"

Kelly nodded. "Half empty bag of cotton balls. Nail polish remover on your dresser is almost gone. That tells me you paint your nails a lot. You also take more than good care of your nails. You keep your hair long. Not to mention your box right here has a few too many feminine keepsakes." She grew hesitant and embarrassed for a moment. "And I caught a glimpse of your panties when you pulled the box out from under your bed."

"I…" I glanced around my room. Everything she had mentioned stood out like a sore thumb. I had gotten so used to having everything out, that I hadn't done a very thorough job of hiding any of it. Kelly had caught on to my secret life in one visit, having been here for less than an hour. My head dropped to look at the floor. "I told you it's a long story."

"I got most of it from your mom," Kelly said. "Except the fun, juicy parts I know you left out." She gave me a mischievous grin. "You gotta tell me more."

"I should be running you out of my room to be honest," I said, showing her I was a bit perturbed by her assessment.

"Don't be mad," Kelly said. "I just wanted you to know that I know, and it's okay."

"Still…" I said. "I feel violated now."

"Truth is…" Kelly said. "I knew something was up before we came over. Laurie and my parents were acting kind of strange, but I could tell they were keeping something from me."

"Great!" I said. "Now my secrets are going across state."

"They're not going anywhere," Kelly said.

"I bet this is why they told me I couldn't dress until after this weekend," I said. "I should've known something was going on."

"Well…" Kelly gave me a pleasant smile. "They can't stop you from dressing if you're already dressed."

"What?"

"Dress up for dinner," Kelly said. "I'll help."

"I don't know…" I said. "Tom was pretty clear about me not doing that."

"Everyone knows now," Kelly said. "Not like you're gonna hurt anything."

"No," I said. "Bad idea."

"Come on!" Kelly said, bouncing a bit on the bed. "You said yourself you don't want to wear any of those boring male clothes."

"I don't think so," I said.

"Then at least let me do something," Kelly said. She looked down at my feet.

"I don't think that's a good idea either," I said, catching on to what she had in mind.

"They'll never have to know," Kelly said. "You can cover it up." Her eyes opened a little wider. "Please?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine! But if we get caught, you're going down for it."

"Yay," Kelly said, changing her position on the bed. "Got any dark red?"

"Somewhere," I said, turning back to my dresser.

Truth be told, I virtually had half the selection at the local drugstore in my possession. I just kept adding to it for some reason. Most of the girls let me have colors they used once or twice and didn't care for at all. Kate even bought me a small selection as little gifts here and there. I pulled out a dark, almost blood red from my collection, and sat on my bed with Kelly. A few moments later and she was busy at work painting my toenails. Oddly enough, it felt new again, like the first time Tiffany had done it.

"So how did you get into all of this?" Kelly asked, as if reading my mind.

"Actually, my girlfriend doing exactly what you're doing right now," I said. "Only I started off painting hers."

"Lucky girl," Kelly said. "Wish I had a boyfriend that knew how to paint nails. Could have them done while I read or do my homework." She smiled at me. "You know she's got the best of both worlds."

"Why are you so interested in this anyway?"

Kelly paused for a moment. "I wouldn't say I'm interested." She put polish on another nail as she thought about it. "I mean it is interesting, but I just thought this would be fun for both of us. You said you've been down lately."

"It is kind of fun," I said. "And better than you chasing me around the yard pinching me."

Kelly giggled a bit. "I always figured you could take it."

"You pinched hard," I said.

"Oh I did not," Kelly said defensively. "You are such a girl!"

"I wouldn't go that far," I said, taking a more serious approach to her statement. "I'm not a girl."

"That's debatable," Kelly said, pointing down at my foot. A big grin spread across her face.

"You're the girly one," I said. "Running from every bug you saw." I laughed a bit. "You ran screaming when we wanted to catch lightning bugs."

"You guys were trying to put them on me! Besides… I have every right to be a girl," she said, giving me a smug look. "I am one. You on the other hand…" She looked at me sincerely for a few moments. "You have a right to be too, if you want."

"The more I think about it," I said. "The more I want to be."

Kelly looked up from painting another nail. "Yeah?"

"But it's going to be so hard," I said. "I can't ever settle on it."

"Life's hard," Kelly said. "Better to enjoy it the way you want to."

"Just afraid I'd be letting some people down," I said.

"That's their decision to be honest," Kelly said. "But this is your choice. If they can't accept it, I say to hell with them."

"Wow…"

"What?"

"I've never heard anyone say it like that," I said. "A bit cynical."

"Well it's the truth," Kelly said. "Hand."

"I guess so," I said, offering my hand to Kelly. "There's just times when the decision becomes more complicated than yes or no."

"Like?"

Before I knew it, my cousin had talked me through painting all of my fingernails. She kept talking to me, somehow keeping my mind off of my nails until they were completely dry. That's when it dawned on me what had occurred. Kelly actually got her way, and I had been too wrapped up and distracted to stop her edging me toward the inevitable. It wasn't until she stepped over to my dresser, that I realized she had seized control of the situation.

"Got any hose?" she asked.

"Hose?" My eyes sprung open to the reality of what was occurring. "I told you I can't dress. Tom will kill me."

"He's not going to do anything with us here," Kelly said. "Besides, my dad would kick his butt if he laid a finger on you."

"I don't know," I said. "I should even take this off."

"Look…" Kelly turned to face me. "You gotta put your foot down some time. You need to show them you're willing to face consequences, or it'll always be this tug-of-war game between you all." She turned to look through my drawer again. "Besides… I asked your mom already, and she basically said it was okay if you'd go along with it."

"Basically okay, or okay?" I asked, standing from my bed.

"Honestly," Kelly said, turning back to me with a pair of nude pantyhose in her hand. "She more or less hinted that it would be nice to see you dressed up for the occasion. And since you couldn't find anything to dress up in one way, we'll go the other way." She stepped over and held out the pantyhose. "Now put these on. Your nails should be dry by now."

"I really shouldn't," I said.

"You should," Kelly said. "They'll look nicer with the dress."

"Who said I'd be wearing a dress?" I asked, chuckling a little at her boldness.

"Just put them on," Kelly said.

Kelly stood in front of me, still holding the pantyhose out in front of her. We were the same age, but she was a bit taller, like her sister. She had a few inches on me, and even more with her stacked heels; probably five to six inches total. I felt a bit intimidated at the moment, and she seemed a bit pushy. For a brief moment I started to get the feeling that Kelly wasn't asking me to dress, but rather ordering me to dress. I reluctantly took the pantyhose from her hand.

"Now let's see what we can find in here," Kelly said, opening my closet up completely to reveal the other half of my wardrobe.

I stood and watched her for a moment. Kelly busied herself going through my entire wardrobe. She pulled things out, disapproved of them, and put them back in my closet. The whole time I stood wondering if I should even allow this, or if I should just ask her to leave my room. At any rate, I definitely didn't feel comfortable changing with her in the room. Even though she paid no attention to me at all now, I didn't want to even think about stripping in front of her.

"Oh perfect," Kelly said, pulling a crimson red dress from my closet. "Slightly elegant, and matches your nails." She turned to face me, and then suddenly looked disappointed. "Why didn't you put the hose on?"

"I don't feel comfortable with this," I said.

"Oh…" She draped the dress over my chair. "I thought you were used to changing in front of girls." She stepped over to my dresser, and pulled out a light pink padded bra; the same color as my panties. "Well I'll step out and scope out the place. You get changed, and I'll come help with your hair."

Kelly tossed the bra on my bed, and then stepped over to slip out of my room. She didn't even wait around for a rebuttal. I wasn't used to this kind of treatment at all. Normally Tiffany would lightly suggest things to me, but never push me to dress. Kelly seemed rather demanding about it, like I had no other choice. Thinking that the situation could only get worse if I didn't comply, I quickly lost my shirt and dropped my jeans.

Kelly gave me plenty of time to change. She gently knocked on my door, and then slipped back in a moment later. As she shut the door behind her, she mused over my attire. The paneled skirt of my dress skipped gently along my nylon-encased thighs, as I stepped away from the foot of my bed. It lifted away, while I twirled around at Kelly's behest, and collapsed with ease above my knees. The scoop neck showed just enough of my neckline, and the three-quarter sleeves showed just enough of my arms.

"Please tell me you have shoes to match that dress," Kelly said, as she put some hair essentials on my dresser.

"They're in the back I think," I said.

Kelly raced over to my closet, and stooped to look through my shoes. In a matter of seconds she was back up with some crimson suede shoes in her hands. Honestly, I didn't know if they were real suede or not. They were pretty inexpensive, perhaps cheap looking, but I had to have them for some reason. Kelly came over to me and helped me slip them on. My toes slid up to the peep toe, revealing a few of my painted toes through the pantyhose. The two-and-a-half inch wedge heel raised me up, and once she buckled the thin strap over my instep, I felt so elegant.

"Got any belts?" Kelly asked.

"A few in the third drawer," I said.

Kelly walked over to my dresser and pulled the third drawer open. After looking over the paltry selection, she pulled out an inch wide black belt. She stepped over and slipped it around my waist. Once she got it buckled and situated, she stepped back to look me over. She seemed satisfied, and went back to the dresser. Eventually she was rummaging through my drawers like she owned my stuff.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, stepping over to her.

"Makeup," Kelly said. "I was thinking light, but you definitely need some lipstick." She glanced at me. "Close to your nail shade if possible."

"Bottom drawer," I said, reluctantly.

"Ever thought about getting a makeup table?" Kelly asked.

"Um… not recently," I said.

"Helps me keep it all organized," Kelly said. "You should ask your mom for one." She held her index finger up. "And you definitely need more belts. Belts are huge right now for girls our age." She glanced up at me. "I've got one with my name in little pink jewels. It's so cute." She went back to my makeup. "But you definitely need some variety for school and stuff."

"I don't go to school dressed," I said.

"Oh…" Kelly paused for a moment. "I thought you did. Your mom mentioned you going to school with painted nails."

"Yeah… that's about it," I said. "That and panties."

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught with your pants down?" Kelly asked with a giggle. "Pardon the pun."

"Sure I worry about it," I said. "I've had a few close calls too." I stepped over to sit in my chair at my desk. "I figure if it happens, then it's one less thing to shock people if I ever come out at school."

"Sounds like you've given that a lot of thought," Kelly said.

"Off and on," I said. "I don't think about it all the time though. Most of my life is ordinary, believe it or not."

"Forgive me if I don't," Kelly said. "Found some!"

She stood and came over to me, revealing a tube of dark red lipstick. After a half hour of messing with my hair, and trying to perfect my makeup, we both thought I was ready for my debut. Kelly thought we should wait until we were called in for dinner. She claimed it would be a better entrance with everyone there ready to eat. I found it harder and harder to disagree with her logic. She actually made me feel like I could put my foot down on this whole dressing situation. I felt empowered.

We goofed around for a little bit. She prodded for information on some of my adventures, and I asked her if she had any exploits. Kelly actually had a few. She seemed to be a bit of a tease around boys at school. Several of her stories involved her feigning interest in a boy only to make him look like a fool going after her. It kind of surprised me the way she viewed boys; as some sort of necessary evil. Yet, most of her stories made me want to actually hang out with her some time.

A bit after seven at night, my mother knocked on my bedroom door. She called out the dinner warning, before going back to the kitchen. I took a few deep breaths, and worked up some nerve to step out of my room. Once I stepped into the hallway, I couldn't turn back. Kelly made sure to block that option from me. The only two options I had left, were to hide in the bathroom, or walk on into the living room. I chose the latter option; my stomach tying itself into knots.

With each step I took down the hallway, everything became louder. The game roared on the television in the living room, and the voices of my family and our company poured out of every area. Justin and Laurie were the first to see me. They both had the same expression on their face; raised eyebrows and an inquisitive who-is-this look in their eyes. I got the first verbal attention from Aunt Kimberly.

"Oh my," she said. "Bailey you look terrific."

"Wow…" Laurie said, working around her initial shock.

This caused William to step slightly out of the dining room. "Is that Zach?" he whispered to his wife.

"I told you he's going by Bailey now," she whispered back. "Isn't he adorable?"

It felt weird for a brief moment. There I was dressed like a girl, but my aunt referred to me as a boy. That was the first time I ever faced the situation, and for some reason I lost a bit of self-confidence. My aunt's husband, however, quickly restored anything I had lost. He looked me over for a moment and then smiled pleasantly.

"You look very pretty Bailey," William said.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I knew she would," Kelly said from behind me. "As soon as I found out, I could just picture it." She stepped to the side of me and smiled. "I think she looks amazing."

"Yeah…" Laurie said, still a bit bewildered. "You do look amazing Bailey."

"Thanks," I said, now feeling the red hot torment of a blush on my cheeks.

"You look nice," Justin said, giving me a reassuring smile. "Hey mom! Bailey decided to dress up for dinner after all."

My mother stepped out of the dining room, and into the living room. She was obviously taken aback for a moment, but then she regained her composure. All of a sudden she started beaming and talking about wanting to take pictures. Everyone started to fawn over me, and after a moment we heard the back door open and close. I figured it was Tom, giving our dog the traditional special Thanksgiving meal. He always slipped a wing of the turkey out to Buckles before carving the rest of it.

"I don't know why you wanted to hide it," Aunt Kimberly said quietly to my mother. "I say just let him be who he is."

"It was mostly Tom's idea," my mother said, rolling her eyes. "He thought Bailey could use a little break to get his head clear."

"Well perhaps he was thinking clearly all along," Laurie said behind them. "He… I mean she's a natural beauty."

"Well he was always a cute kid," Aunt Kimberly said.

"You have got to come spend some time at our house," Kelly whispered in my ear. "We'd have so much fun together."

"Damn it Bailey!" Tom's voice careened through the living room like a freight train hitting a car at a crossing. "What the hell did I tell you?"

"Tom…" my mother said, gesturing at our guests.

"Did you put him up to this?" Tom asked, looking at my mother.

"I don't think anybody put him up to it," my mother said.

"You're in big trouble buddy," Tom said, staring menacingly at me. "I told you none of this until after Thanksgiving."

"What do you mean none of this?" I asked.

"If we didn't have company here…" Tom said beneath his breath.

"Tom," William said. "Really it's okay."

"Susan…" Tom looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. His face turned red with anger. "We discussed this."

"You know Tom… I'm fine with it," my mother said. "I've had it with trying to artificially steer my child in one direction or the other."

"What!?" Tom asked.

"I didn't like stopping it in the first place," my mother said. "And this is my family. As far as I'm concerned, Bailey's open to be whoever he or she wants to be around them."

Tom ran his hand over his burr haircut. He ran it quickly over the back of his head a few times, grasping his neck. It was something he did right before he lost his cool, and I knew he was a ticking time bomb at the moment. He either needed to walk away from the conversation, or we somehow needed to end it pleasantly. I didn't feel like either this time. Kelly was right. This was my life, and every bit my decision, and there was no way I wanted to cede to Tom right now.

"Bailey…" Tom said.

"This is who I am!" I said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "I feel good like this. I felt good about it until you walked in the room. Everyone here is fine with who I am except you!" My hands dropped to my sides in balled fists. "Why can't you just accept that you can't fix me!? Find a new hobby, because you suck at this one!"

My words trailed off into an abyss of silence. A little voice in my head kept repeating "too far" to my brain. It felt like everyone but Tom and I had stepped back from the conversation. I felt like I was standing amidst the townsfolk in an old western, prepared to take on Tom in a showdown. He stared me down, anger and confusion brewing inside of him. The first movement came from my mother. She raised her hand in an attempt to start the "cooling off" process of the argument. Only it never made it to that point.

Tom slammed his fist into the wall next to him. The act made everyone in the room jump. I watched in fear as Tom withdrew his hand from the drywall. He had literally hit the wall, and his fist drove through it, leaving a rather large hole behind. His eyes glazed over, and he stared straight ahead. Without another word, he exited the living room. The slamming of the back door was the last we heard of him that night.

Blood must have rushed to my head, as I couldn't recall the next several minutes. The next thing I remembered was my cousin trying to comfort me. Her hand ran up and down my back. My mother eventually made her way over to me, and held me in her arms. I watched William, over my mother's shoulder, as he coaxed Justin into the dining room. Laurie came over to us, and dragged Kelly into the kitchen.

Tom's truck fired up in the driveway. He floored it out into the street, and his tires screeched as he took off. For a moment I thought about him getting in an accident. I regrettably and honestly thought about him dying. An accident was too good for him though. I gave up caring about what Tom meant to me that night. The whole time I thought we were working things out, he was playing a game to control what I did, when I dressed, and when I could do anything. He was a bastard.

It took awhile for my mother to calm me down. I felt horrible about all of this, like I had caused it. Aunt Kimberly had taken my cousins in to finish getting dinner set up. I sat with my mother on the couch. She held me, and we rocked methodically together as she poured on encouraging words, trying to comfort me back to reality. I felt like crying, but I didn't cry. I just didn't care enough to cry over Tom anymore.

"Let's just go have a nice meal," my mother said eventually. She moved back to hold my face in her hands. "We'll put this all behind us. Everyone's here. Dinner is done, and you look so pretty."

I forced a smile, if anything for her assurance. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No," my mother said. "Never be sorry for who you are. I love every bit of you. And there are people in the other room that care about you."

"But I ruined Thanksgiving," I said. "I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," my mother said. "We have everything we need here, and we can be thankful for that. As for Tom… well he's the one missing out."

My mother's words had just enough influence to get me into the dining room. I expected to get the sympathy act from everyone, but instead they acted like the scene hadn't happened. This actually made me feel better, as it took the focus off of me. Eventually I smiled again, and we all sat down to a pleasant meal. William showed my brother how to carve a turkey, something Tom had never done. Soon the jokes and teasing came out, and everything almost seemed normal… almost.

Tom didn't come back that night. To this day I have no idea where he went. I imagined him sitting at a truck stop diner for Thanksgiving dinner. My mother sat out on the front porch for a long time after dinner, talking with my aunt. I wanted to listen in, but I figured it would make me feel worse. Instead, I sat in my room and goofed around with Kelly. She kept insisting that I would eventually be a girl full time, dressing at school and going on dates with boys.

I wasn't exactly sure what I would be tomorrow. The events this past month, with Rajan, Kelly and the way I'd been treated at school, really made me reevaluate my condition. It made me rethink what and who I wanted to be. I thought about it until the wee hours of morning, and didn't come a step closer to the answer. Maybe I was trying too hard to pin down what I wanted so early in life. Maybe I just had to live a little before I made the hard choices. Maybe all I needed was a good night's sleep.

---

 
 
To Be Continued In Seasons of Bailey: Winter...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 1

Winter. I can't exactly say I love this time of year. There were certain things I liked about winter. Snow always looked so beautiful to me, but I hated being out in it. I had even outgrown playing in it; building forts and tunnels, and engaging in snowball fights. Lately I preferred watching it, like I did now, sitting in my room beside my window. It wouldn't be long until the bus arrived, and I could trudge through my last day of school for the semester.

There were far too many reasons to dislike winter, that I hardly saw the positives anymore. For one, I hated static electricity. Ever since I could remember, the thought of being shocked by someone or something felt, to me, like the worst possible unwarranted intrusion to the human body. I would go as far as to say paranoia sank in over time. It was just that anticipation of knowing it could happen at any moment.

Eventually I began reaching out to touch something metal after I felt I built up static. I thought if I could engage the inevitable shock first, it wouldn't be as bad as it sneaking up on me later. When visiting my grandparents, I would avoid letting them kiss me. I don't know why, but every time they would kiss me, I got shocked. I hated it. It made me curse inwardly, and each time I felt like accusing someone; like how dare they shock me.

The worst thing about winter, is that I learned for the first time what death meant. My father --my real father-- died the summer after my fifth birthday. Being so young, I didn't have a clue what it all meant. I went through the visitation and the funeral like a drone, not knowing my father was laid to rest inside the giant black box in the middle of the room. I didn't pay much attention while various people, some I didn't know, talked about what my father meant to them.

My mother seemed distant for several months afterwards. I kept asking her what was wrong, and I know she tried to explain it. I just didn't understand, or want to understand at the time. Eventually she sat me down, without distractions, and gave it to me straight. It was winter, and I found out my father was never coming back. He had died, and now I knew what it was to be dead. Death never made itself more prominent than in the winter.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I spun from my window to look at Tom. He stood in my doorway with a menacing look upon his face. His hand was caked in chalk; remnants from the busted wall he punched. In his other hand he held a bottle of beer. His eyes were fixed upon me like glue, and they were littered with a multitude of red lines. His breath came in ragged growls, like a dog ready to lash out and bite.

"Waiting for the bus?" I stammered.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to let you wear that crap to school," Tom growled. "Who the hell said you could dress that way?"

"I don't under--"

"Little sissy bitches don't wear jeans and tees," Tom said. "Especially not around me." He took a staggered step forward; bottle shaking in his hand. "You put on one of those damn dresses I bought you."

"I can't wear a dress to school!"

"You'll wear a damn dress wherever I tell you to wear it!" Tom shouted. "Welcome to my new hobby you sissy brat. Say goodbye to all your male shit, and hello to your new life."

"But…" My voice sounded like a whimper.

"Do it!"

I bolted upright in my bed. Short gasping breaths passed between my parted lips. A chill ran up my spine, though it felt like an oven all around me. The house seemed quiet, and my clock showed it was a little past two. Moonlight still streamed through my window, and I collapsed back into my pillow. I tried to steady my breathing as I stared at my ceiling. Eventually my eyelids grew heavy, and I once again drifted off to sleep; a strange and peaceful sleep.

Do you ever get to that point in your life, where you feel you're living more of a fantasy as opposed to reality? Everything seemed that way to me now. Ever since the summer of 1997, I've felt like I've been on a collision course headed toward a dark abyss. It hit critical mass on Thanksgiving, when my feelings and emotions absolutely erupted and washed over me like lava from a raging volcano. I don't know how I'd managed to hold it in for so long, but I finally had to let it go. It drove my stepfather Tom away, and I wasn't sure if or when I would ever see him again.

Weeks had gone by. The days grew colder. They were even talking about a white Christmas this year. Unfortunately they lied. Apparently we got too much the year before. Instead we got a nice drizzling rain that would more than likely last into the weekend. It was Friday, and I had one more class to go before I was free for Christmas break. Our art teacher had let us basically have a free day, as long as we at least did something "artful" while we talked amongst ourselves.

Vanessa had left earlier in the day. She got an early start on her trip to South Carolina. I never saw her after that. It took me awhile to figure it all out, but everything eventually added up. The fights with Danielle, her unattached moods, and her complete change from gossip girl to queen of quiet, all led to one horrible conclusion. Her parents had divorced, and her mother took her across the states to live with her family. I never even got to tell her goodbye, but I suppose she wanted it that way.

Our little group of friends grew smaller every time I turned around. Danielle still barely talked to us. Tracy spent more time with Jason, usually ditching us to hang out with each other. I still saw her at lunch, though I could tell she really was losing interest fast. Something had grown stale somewhere along the way. The only dependable ones happened to be the two lovebirds that would steal away from our pack to have random make-out sessions.

"Why doesn't Megan want to go?" Tiffany asked, as she feigned interest in penciling out a horse on a sheet of paper.

I looked up at the person in which her question was directed. Tawny Simmons; the unlikely girl who had somehow sparked an immense interest from me in the past month and a half. Maybe it was that kiss at Rachel Ford's Halloween party. Perhaps it was that engrossing art project where I had grown so attached to every detail about her face. It could have even been the way those bright green eyes of hers filled with sorrow as she looked at Tiffany. Whatever had happened, or was happening, Tawny Simmons had stolen a piece of my heart.

"She can't go," Tawny said.

"Well why not?" Tiffany asked.

"She's busy," Tawny said. "Her grandmother is coming in for some traditional Korean thing." She sighed. "I can't even recall half of what she told me, to be honest, but you know her family's all about traditions."

"Well I'm going to be gone," Tiffany said. "We're leaving Monday for Iowa."

"What a dismal place to go for Christmas." Vince…

I had a hard time getting used to this guy. He had taken Vanessa's seat at our table, and now basically took her place in our conversation. Usually Tawny provided the smug and cynical remarks, but today Vince had managed to take that upon himself as his mantle. I still had my doubts about him. Vince claimed to be gay, which I had no problem with. He was in a support group with Tiffany, but the way they had been acting around each other lately made me take notice. It seemed a little too flirtatious in my opinion.

"It's really not that bad," Tiffany said, as she looked over at Vince with a smile. "I kind of like going back to the small town country scene." She looked down at the horse on her paper. "It's relaxing in a way."

There happened to be one thing in particular that bugged me about Vince. It was his keen sense of observation. Vince picked up on something I should have. I didn't see it until his perfect smile parted and gave way to what he said next. "What's his name?"

"Desperado," Tiffany said, as she smiled down at her horse. "We named him after the song." She sighed. "I love the song almost as much as I love riding him."

"You never told me you had a horse," I said, wedging myself into the somewhat uncomfortable courting ritual taking place to each side of me.

"Well he's not really mine," Tiffany said. "He actually belongs to Kate, but she let me ride him and I just fell in love." She looked up at me with a sad expression. "We couldn't bring him here, so we left him with my uncle at his ranch."

"Sorry," I said. "I bet you miss him terribly."

"I get to see him enough I guess," Tiffany said, going back to her drawing. "To be honest, I couldn't ride him every day." She let out a slight laugh. "I'd probably get as sick of riding him as I would taking care of him all the time."

"Like I get sick of going to this ballet every year," Tawny said, a bit begrudgingly.

"Is it that bad?" Vince asked.

"Nutcracker Suite," Tawny said. "Every year. My mom claims it's instilling culture and whatnot, and blah, blah, blah. If culture comes from seeing the same boring ballet every year, I'm staying far away from the anthropology field." Her shoulders rose and then slumped in a shrug. "Lynne got out of it somehow this year. So I'm stuck with just my parents." She sighed. "Unless I can find someone to suffer through it with me."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Vince said.

"Are you volunteering?" Tawny asked.

"Nooo," Vince said, laughing a bit. "I have plans already. I'm sure you can find someone to go with you though."

"What about Bailey?" Tiffany asked, not even looking up from her work.

Tawny and I both looked up at Tiffany at the same time. Then, as if we were in sync, looked into each other's eyes. I really didn't know what to think at that moment. There were a few notions running through my mind. Like for instance, I had never seen a ballet before in my life and knew nothing about them. I also did not take kindly to Tawny's use of the word suffer. Above all that, regardless of her parents being there, Tawny and I had never been anywhere together; at least not alone.

"I wouldn't know the first thing about a ballet," I said.

"What's there to know?" Tawny asked. "A bunch of men and women dress up in tights and dance around like fruits." She looked over at Vince. "No offense."

"Considering I'm not a ballet dancer, none taken," Vince said, shaking his head. "I don't even think I'm that gay."

"Well that exudes confidence in going," I said.

"Exudes," Tawny said, dragging the word out. "Is that the word of the day?"

"I think there's a bit more to ballet than that," Tiffany said, careening her way back into the conversation.

"Oh, don't get all prima ballerina on me," Tawny said.

"For your information," Tiffany said, looking up at Tawny. "I never made prima ballerina, nor did I ever want to be one. I never cared that much about it." She quickly looked down at her drawing. "Something stupid my parents made me do…"

"What's a prima ballerina?" I asked, distracting Tiffany from where the conversation was headed.

"It's a title given to the lead ballerina," Tiffany said quietly.

"Oh…" I looked over at Tawny. "I don't know about all this."

"I suppose you're going to say you have plans for Christmas Eve too?" Tawny asked.

"Well… no," I said. "I mean, things might be… I don't know what's planned. We might not do anything. But I don't know. A ballet?"

"Please?" Tawny said. "I'll make it up to you."

The way her thin eyebrows raised in the middle, and the way her penetrating eyes seemed filled with tortured, pleading sorrow; it all just made me weak inside. Vince and Tiffany seemed to be absorbed in what they were doing. They obviously wanted nothing to do with the situation anymore. Instead they left me to fend for myself, against a version of Tawny who was becoming increasingly feminine. It was a Tawny that also started to understand the power of feminine wiles. I fell for it in the worst way most of the time.

"I don't know," I said. "I'll ask my mom."

"Oh Bailey," Tawny said. "I could just kiss you!"

Tiffany cleared her throat at the suggestion. It made Tawny take notice, and she went back to her old calm and collected self. I smiled at her, and shook my head. Then I went back to my own artwork; a masterpiece I later dubbed "trashcan filler."

"What does one wear to a ballet anyway?" I asked.

"Depends how uncomfortable you want to be," Tawny said, a bit of mocking tone returning to her voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Depending on what time of day the ballet is, most people dress accordingly," Tiffany said. "Since it's near Christmas time, I'd suggest dressing up regardless of time of day. Guys wear anything from sweaters and slacks to suits." She tilted her head to the side as she continued to draw. Her beautiful black hair fell from her shoulders. She seemed aloof, and aimlessly continued talking. "Usually they go with the suit around this time of year. Being the Nutcracker Suite, I'd suggest something festive as well. You could wear a Christmas tie or something."

I groaned quite audibly, but not enough to warrant the teacher's attention. "I hate wearing ties."

"Well there is the alternative," Tawny said.

I looked up at her, and found her looking right back at me. For some reason I failed to grasp the small hint she seemed to be implying. I had been slipping on things like that recently. "Alternative?"

"Well for instance," Tawny said. "I'll be wearing a nice dress…" She gave me a less than subtle look now.

"Oh…" I said, finally catching on to what she was saying. "Wait! You… in a dress?"

Tawny gave me a half-smile. "I wear dresses… at times." Her look turned smug. "Not as often as you," she said, lowering her voice, "but then again, I'm not that girly."

"This is a rare occasion then. Perhaps I should go just for proof that you're still a girl," I fired back at her.

"Take pictures," Vince said, laughing a bit.

Tawny shot me a defeated look, but turned quickly to face Vince. "I'm gonna let girly boy's comment slide, but one more from you, and you'll be dancing as my own personal ballerina."

Vince chuckled as he lowered his head back to his work. It still felt weird having him as part of our group. He felt like a wooden splint to our crumbling stone tower. I admit that it wasn't exactly my group, as I'd only known Tiffany coming into it, but it felt like I had no say in it either. Maybe it was because of the way some people had dealt with me, but I just didn't feel safe anymore. I felt like I had to watch my back; like everything around me was orchestrated by someone.

"Anyway," Tawny said, getting my focus back. "I thought about a red dress, but I decided on green." She paused, looking me over. "Red's just not really my color, if you know what I mean." She gave me a slow wink.

"Green's a nice color on you," I said, smiling back. "I think you'll look nice."

"I think she wants you to wear a red dress," Vince whispered to me.

I nearly snapped my pencil in half. Vince had moved himself to be almost right in my face. "I kind of picked up on that," I said, with a sharp tone. "Thanks though."

"Hey, just trying to help," Vince said, backing away from me. "Everyone's kind of edgy today…"

"I don't know if that's too helpful right now," I said. "I…"

"He hasn't dressed since Thanksgiving," Tiffany whispered.

"Why not?" Vince asked, now suddenly very interested. "You look cute when you do."

I nearly groaned outwardly when Vince called me cute. It was one thing coming from the girls, but Vince… "I don't want to talk about it," I said.

"Why not?" Vince repeated his earlier question with a bemused smile. "We're all friends here."

"You assume too much," I thought, as I looked Vince over. Then I suddenly hoped I hadn't said that out loud. "Just… I don't," I finally said.

"We doing anything this weekend?" Tiffany asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Don't think so," I said. "Things are kind of… strange… still at my house."

"Ah," Tiffany said, giving me a knowing look.

"Sorry…" Tawny said. "I've got… plans." Tawny put a lot of emphasis on the last word, causing Tiffany to snap her head around to face her.

"Oh you bitter bitch," Tiffany said. "You know I'd go with you if I could."

"I don't need you," Tawny said. She looked over at me. "I've got Bailey."

"Maybe," I said. "I'm not sure yet."

"Well I hope you two are very happy together," Tiffany said, feigning exasperation. "I guess I'll just have to start dating Vince."

Vince laughed at the remark. I was not as amused. The three of them were obviously kidding around with each other, but for some reason I took major offense to it. I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was angry. Only, nobody noticed me. They had all gone back to what they were doing, unaware of the proverbial steam shooting out of my ears. The only thing I could do, was frustratingly go back to my own work, which I did; in tormented silence, until the bell rang.

We actually didn't do anything that weekend. At least I didn't do anything on Friday or Saturday. Come Sunday I didn't have any plans either. I remember waking early, but staying there in bed. The house seemed so quiet, that I was scared any action on my part would stir some kind of commotion monster. I just stared at my ceiling, thinking about my life in general. Eventually the silence bugged me. It gave me the urge to write, and I forced myself to sneak over to my desk.

The first official day of winter had brought with it a light flurry of snow, but it wasn't sticking. I sat staring out my window, watching the snow dance and twirl down to the street below. My diary sat open on the desk in front of me. I'd been writing all morning, avoiding the tension and solemn atmosphere of our house. I had a lot of time to reflect on the last few months. It always felt like everyone was pressing me forward. Now I had an opportunity to sit back and breathe; to look at the road ahead, and to answer some of the harder questions.

Our household had grown a little tense. Justin seemed to always be running since Tom wasn't there to give him something to do. My mother seemed depressed, and though I knew she stood on my side, I couldn't help but feel bad about what had happened. I could've prevented the whole thing. All I had to do was pretend not dressing didn't bother me. All I had to do was lie; to our company and to myself. It would've been fine for one more day… I think

However, I grew tired of lying to myself and everyone else. The last words I said to my stepfather kept entering my mind. I couldn't just say I didn't mean them, as I honestly did. Through all of the insecurities, and ups and downs, I actually did feel good about myself. I felt like I was on the best path to self-discovery that I could find. Hearing Doctor Dinesh tell me that I couldn't be fixed, actually lifted a huge burden from my shoulders. It nearly broke Tom's control; his macho confidence of having a way to "cure" me in the end.

This whole time I had been seeking the path to a cure. I did it for everyone else, including Tom, to restore some type of normalcy to our lives. Things never were normal though. Thinking back on how all of this started, I had to marvel at the oddities surrounding my life. It only took two months of summer to realize there was something unique about me. What started as a silly game of dress up with my girlfriend, Tiffany, and her sister Kate, had developed into several months of exploration.

Neither I, nor Tom, could ever imagine those circumstances happening in any other fashion but haphazardly. He could point the finger at Tiffany, but she could never have predicted my reaction to the game we played. I could have easily refused the offer of my girlfriend's little game. Aside from that, I could have absolutely hated it once we started playing. The truth was, I enjoyed it; so much so that I dressed on my own after the fact, with no pressure or suggestion to do it. Not only that, but I continued to dress; sometimes by suggestion, but most of the time of my own predilection.

Becoming Bailey, in person more than name, had really opened my eyes up to the world around me. It opened me up to other things I never could have planned for. I'd almost forgotten Zachary; the boy I used to be. Bailey even had more friends than Zachary ever did. They weren't just friends either. All of them were unique in their own certain ways. That's what I concentrated on that morning; writing about the unique people in my life so I would never forget them.

I started with Tiffany. She had become my mainstay; my confidante in this part of my life. I thought at first she simply wanted to push me more toward my feminine side. In all honesty, she did have an agenda. I pretended for a long time that it wasn't relevant, but she did want me to be more girl than boy. Though it never felt forced, she did sway over to the female side when she lent me her friendly suggestions and advice.

Tiffany had her reasons though. It turned out that she actually preferred girls over boys. What started out as a stupid little game, ultimately altered both of our lives. Her parents coaxed her into counseling, where she made the "self-discovery" of being a lesbian. I still never came to grips with how someone her age could discover that on her own. I mean, sure, we all have our own feelings, but suggestions from older people can go a long way at that age. I still clung to my own belief that Tiffany was bisexual. She could have dropped me for a real girl a long time ago.

Bisexual became a familiar term early on in my life. It seemed to be a term I ran into quite frequently as the years went on. Though I think most of us have those unexplained bisexual moments in our lives, I never met anyone truly open to both genders until I met Megan. I personally had sworn off of guys early on in life, but Megan, who was typically shy, was unabashed about sharing her preferences. Of course she didn't give details, but she wasn't afraid to say who or what she found appealing.

I think Megan opened me up a little to the thought of bisexuality. Though I wasn't ready to run and jump into the arms of some guy, my kiss with her happened to be the first time I kissed another boy. Megan, for all intents and purposes, was technically a boy. She shared nearly the same problems I had growing up, but she sought her path early on. She knew what she wanted. I thought I had given her courage at one point, but ever since then I wished I had her courage.

Not only did Megan open me up to the possibility of boys, but she also opened me up to something else. Megan happened to be part Korean, and a damn cute one to boot. However, it wasn't her ethnicity, but rather her culture that Megan introduced me to. I learned quite a bit about her family's values and beliefs, including a deep-rooted respect for elders. It was all so different to me, and made it difficult at times as I tried to respect Tom. Megan had her own style, personality and fears about who and what she was, yet we found common ground in our uniqueness.

As I thought about Tiffany and Megan, there wasn't any way I could stop thinking about Tawny. The strange little encounter between the four of us, on Halloween, left me confused. I had to rethink my strategy on how I even approached these three girls. Another "game" with friends, had stirred up emotions and feelings for each of them that I felt hesitant, or maybe even reluctant to explore. I loved Tiffany as much as I could love a girlfriend at my age, but now I had a huge crush on both Megan and Tawny.

Then there were the boys who just happened to drift into my new life. Ever since Nathan Riley jogged by that first night, I'd felt a strong attachment to him. Nothing had happened between us, but I felt I had to avoid him to keep it that way. My way of avoiding him, however, to most people might have looked as sound as a nude man running through the park on a cold day. The truth was, I had started jogging with him three times a week. This assured that I would be alone with him for at least an hour on each of those days. Even longer if you counted the stretching. That task alone brought some uncomfortable closeness.

My mother actually encouraged it, where I'm sure Tom would've thrown a fit. She had to take me to an appointment with Rajan, the doctor overseeing my condition, and agreed wholeheartedly that I needed exercise. We even went shopping afterwards to get a few essentials. I knew she had my best interests at heart, but I don't think she knew how I felt about Nathan. If she had, I don't think she would've pushed me into asking him. Perhaps she thought I would be safer jogging with him.

Nathan wasn't the only boy that altered my comfort level either. There was, of course, Vince. Annoying as he was now, he got bonus points for rescuing me at Rachel Ford's party. If he hadn't have stepped in to dance with me, I would have fallen prey to the other boys there. Vince saw my predicament, and stepped in. He had an understanding and friendly quality to him, which I happened to admire. The only problem was that I didn't know how to read him. I could never tell if he was just being friendly towards me, or if he genuinely felt an attraction. Sometimes I worried I would be a little experiment on his way to be with another boy.

I felt a lot of people were attracted to me. Whether it was my unique condition, or they simply thought I was cute, I just seemed to get a lot more attention as Bailey. Zachary, what I considered my "old self," had basically slipped off the radar. I never had a lot of friends at my first school, and most of them went to a different school now. The only friend I had left, that knew the old me, happened to be Tiffany, but I always worried more would find out somehow. I'd literally dropped the rest of my friends for that reason, or lost touch of them in some form.

Sometimes I worried about losing Tiffany as well. Tiffany remained steadfast and loyal though. Even faced with ridicule at school, and mistrust at home, I felt she really liked being around me. We had a lot of fun together. She managed to sneak me into an all girl pool party, where I eventually became friends with the host, Tracy. That pool party somehow led to a debacle with another girl named Jillian. She ended up inviting Tiffany and I to pose as mannequins in her family-owned clothing store at the mall.

Even older girls seemed to enjoy having me around, or possibly they liked being around me. While most of them considered me a plaything most of the time, there were a few that took interest in me as a person. Kate, Tiffany's older sister, and Melanie, a girl I met at a day spa, were among the few that showed concern for me and tried to help with my problems. Tracy's older sister, Rebecca, claimed to like me, and Tawny's older sister, Lynne, I think just tolerated me; as she simply tolerated most people.

Then there were a few people I just had to keep an eye on. Dylan, Jillian's cousin, had his eye on me ever since I modeled at 'Tweens. He was a bit of a womanizer, if one could be such as a freshman in high school. Then there was Jason, a boy who used to bully me, but stopped ever since I hooked him up with Tracy. In fact, he had actually started to look out for me a bit after that. The fact that he jumped in to stop other kids from bullying me, is what brought my thoughts back full circle. That incident was the reason Tom made that stupid rule, and the reason why he wasn't here now; four days before Christmas.

Unfortunately, my mood had shifted over the past month. The whole reason I snapped at Tom in the first place, was because he banned me from dressing like a girl. I thought once he left, I had scored some kind of victory. Though the only thing I felt now happened to be guilt. It came that night. Right after I had said those words to Tom, guilt washed over me like a wave over a sandy beach. Each little grain of sand represented a piece of me, that when prodded by the tide of guilt, shifted and rearranged, or was merely taken away.

I didn't feel whole. People were coming and going from my life, and I couldn't keep up with who I was or wanted to be. Like the shifting sands below, I had no solid ground to build myself upon. I simply felt lost. And as I drifted more and more into that feeling, I felt no urge to dress. Perhaps it was never an urge to begin with, or that was the wrong word, but simply put, I felt I didn't belong; in my clothes, in my house, or even in the world. My small bit of freedom from Tom came at a heavy price emotionally.

As I flipped through the pages of my diary, I felt some of the memories coming back to me. I relived the good times mostly in my mind, but even the bad times slipped in here and there. It helped knowing most of these people I'd written about had helped me through the rough patches. Some of them had even helped me feel empowered enough to survive the road ahead. I guess it was only a matter of time before I took control of my life back from Tom. He had been steering it for too long now.

The sound of our doorbell broke me out of my trip down memory lane. I scrambled to get up from my desk and move to the window. Usually I could see the person on the front porch from my vantage point above it. I hadn't heard a car, and I saw no other means of someone getting to our house. Right as I got to the point where I could see who it was, my mother had opened the door and let them in. I scurried over to my door and cracked it open a bit to listen.

"Nice to see you again," my mother said to our visitor. I heard a male voice mumble back to her, but I couldn't make out who the voice belonged to. "I think so," my mother said. A moment passed. "Bailey!?"

Her voice coming up the stairs made me jump. I pulled my door open, and waited a moment. For some reason I didn't want them to think I was eavesdropping, or seem eager to know who came to our door. After taking a small breath, I acknowledged my mother's call. Then I waited in the safety of my room, not really wanting to leave it today. In fact, I didn't really want to see anyone outside of immediate family until Christmas. I had even turned down Tawny's invitation to the ballet.

"Nathan's here to see you," my mother yelled. "You want to come up?" she asked, as she climbed the stairs.

"No," Nathan said. "Thanks, but my shoes are wet from the snow. I'll just wait here."

"Suit yourself," my mother said, reaching the top of the stairs. "Bailey?"

Her eyes met mine from down the hallway. She gave me a questioning look when I didn't move. I frantically tried to communicate to her the fact that I didn't look at all ready to entertain a guest. Still wearing the frumpy sweatpants and baggy long-sleeved shirt I slept in, I appeared more suited for heavy housework than seeing a boy. My mother acknowledged her understanding in the situation, and strolled casually down the hallway toward me.

"I can't go down there like this," I whispered to her.

My mother lifted her hand, and played with my hair for a bit. "It's just Nathan," she said. "He's seen what you look like after running. You look fine compared to that."

"I look like I'm about to scrub the floor of the garage," I said.

"Well I don't think he's here to take you to the ball, Cinderella," my mother said, giggling at my predicament. "Just go talk to him."

"Mom…" Inside I felt a little joy at seeing my mother smile, but only a little. She had been increasingly treating me like her daughter since the night I'd asked her to show me how to style my hair. Now it seemed even more pronounced with Tom gone, and what I had said on Thanksgiving.

"Go on," my mother said. "Don't keep him waiting."

I reluctantly pulled myself from the safety of my bedroom. As I came to the end of the hallway, I stopped to take a deep breath. Why did I care so much about how Nathan perceived me? Perhaps it was because he saw the real me despite how I looked. I hoped he saw that now. I turned the corner and looked down the stairs at Nathan. He smiled when he saw me, and walked over closer to the bottom step. I slinked against the wall as I came down the staircase, but I paused near the middle step.

"Hey," Nathan said. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No," I said, now really second-guessing my appearance. "I've been upstairs, writing in my diary."

"Oh…" Nathan said. "Well you didn't come by this morning. Thought something was wrong."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Did you forget?" Nathan asked.

I stood silent for a moment, trying to figure out his cryptic hint. "Oh," I said. "I thought…" I came down the stairs two more steps.

We gazed awkwardly at each other for a moment. I really didn't know what to say, as I was merely stalling to think of what I'd forgotten. It looked like Nathan had thrown on the same stuff my brother would wear to a film-and-weightlifting-day-after-the-game football meeting. He had on all the makings of his school colors: red tights under black shorts, a black hoodie - sleeves cut off - over a silver formfitting shirt. I tried desperately to keep my eyes from hanging on his toned legs and arms.

"You thought what?" he asked.

"Huh?" I looked up into his brown eyes.

"You were saying something."

Then it finally dawned on me. "Wait…" I looked him over once more. "Were we supposed to go jogging today?"

"What?" Nathan asked, taking a moment to reflect on what I said. His eyes finally broke from their questioning squint. "No… I didn't come here to…" He chuckled. "I've been out playing football with the guys."

"Oh," I said. "Well you look rather…" I had to drag this out longer. Maybe he would remind me of what I forgot if we kept talking. "Spirited," I finally said.

"Spirit…" Nathan looked down at his own legs. "Oh. Right." He laughed subtly. "They were all sold out of black and silver when I went to get these." He looked up at me and smiled. "Guess I should've gotten my act together a little sooner."

I tilted my head as I looked down at his tights. Now I actually had an excuse to stare at his legs. "I like them," I finally said. "It's like you're a superhero or something."

"I guess…" He gave me a half smile.

"I guess I better get used to it," I said, as I fidgeted with my own attire. "Pretty soon I'll be wearing those colors for four years."

"Now that, I can't wait to see," Nathan said. "Bailey in red tights."

"I… I didn't mean the tights necessarily."

"I knew what you meant," Nathan said. "I think you're trying to change the subject though."

It felt like I stood in silence for an eternity with Nathan simply watching me. As I racked my brain over every conversation we'd had in the past several weeks, I couldn't keep from stealing glances at him. Even though he was dressed like someone going to some underground grunge jock fest, I still found him attractive. My mind did a double take as I realized I just put Nathan and attractive in the same thought. I suddenly became very aware, and very shy, trying to hide my face in any way possible. This was somewhat limited to looking down at his legs, as they bulged in his tights.

I felt his eyes on me, like two spotlights on my ever-reddening face. "I guess you really did forget," he finally said.

I let out a defeated sigh. "Remind me?"

"I'm surprised you forgot," Nathan said. "We were talking about it when I was over here with your brother?"

"I'm sorry," I said, slumping against the wall. "I really don't remember at all."

Nathan's shoulders slumped. "Oh…" He looked completely defeated and disappointed with me forgetting whatever it was I forgot. I had no idea what to say or what to do. "That's okay," he finally muttered.

"Sorry," I said. "I just…" I shrugged. "I don't know what we talked about." I stepped down a few more steps, ready to reach out and consol him. "I'm sorry."

As soon as my hand touched his shoulder, Nathan's lips curled into grin. His hand slipped out from behind his back. I looked down to see a neatly wrapped present; red and silver striped wrapping paper complete with curled streams of red and silver ribbon. My face surely lit up from surprise, and I could feel Nathan was waiting for my reaction. I grew weak in the knees, but managed to come to a seated position on the bottom of the staircase. Nathan lowered himself next to me, helping me hold the gift on the way down.

"You didn't forget anything," he said quietly. "I was just teasing you."

"That is an awful way to give a present," I managed to mutter.

Nathan laughed unabatedly. "Why?"

"You made me feel bad," I said.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. "But now you feel good right?" He kept watching my face. "I'll never forget the way you looked just now. It was like…" He looked deeply into my eyes. "Like you experienced pure joy."

"You're awful!" I gave him a playful slap on his chest.

Nathan smiled at me. His hand touched mine, as we held the present together. I could feel an immense blush washing over my face. "I hope you like it," he said.

"I…" I pushed the present back into his hands. Quickly I rose to my feet. "I have something for you!"

I passed by the bathroom on my way to my bedroom, and caught my mother in there collecting laundry. I'd noticed her trying to stay busy ever since Tom walked out on her. I just hoped she wasn't overdoing it on her coping mechanism. She gave me a pleasant smile when she saw me at the doorway. I answered her smile with a huff and stepped into the bathroom with her.

"He brought me a present," I said, collapsing against the doorframe like the mere mention of such a thing absolutely exasperated me.

"And that upsets you?" my mother asked.

"What was that you said about Cinderella?" I asked, frowning a bit. "I look awful, and he came over to give me the glass slipper."

"You look fine," my mother said, laughing as she hefted the load of towels in her arms. She then gave me a concerned look. "Besides, Nathan looked like he's been rolling around in the mud."

"He was playing football…" I started to realize my voice had become whiny, as my mother brushed past me. "I don't really have an excuse."

"So… what? You're going to change into a ball gown now?" my mother asked, laughing a bit. "I hardly doubt Nathan cares what you're wearing." She adjusted the laundry and reached up to pat me on my cheek. "He likes you, dear, not your clothes."

I followed her to the laundry room, maintaining my put-upon act. "What if he wants to hang out, or invite me over?" I asked, sighing.

"Well what's wrong with that?" my mother asked, as she started separating the laundry. "It's not like you haven't been over to his house before." She turned to look at me. "But I think you're putting the cart before the horse."

"But he might ask," I said. My mother's attitude wasn't helping this situation. "I just wanted to stay home though… in my room."

"I think you need to get out of your room," my mother said, turning back to the laundry. "You've been moping about for days, and no sense in both of us doing that." She shrugged as she dropped towels into the washing machine. "I'm sure you'll have fun." She continued loading the laundry. "I want you to have fun."

"You're not wanting to get rid of me are you?" I asked.

"Well no. I just think it would be good for you to be with friends," my mother said, pausing for a long moment. "Since you turned down Tawny."

"It was a ballet…"

A sigh escaped my lips as I fell against the doorframe. My mother was notorious for thinking fresh air solved everything. To even suggest otherwise would be insulting to her character. Regardless of this, she didn't understand how I felt about the situation with Tawny. It wasn't the fact that it was Tawny at all. I just didn't feel like dressing up as either gender for anything, so I chose not to go.

"I still say you would have had fun with Tawny," my mother said, "but I understand." She turned to face me. "As for Nathan, I don't think you should keep him waiting."

"You're right," I said. "I need to get his present!" I turned to leave, but my mother called me back.

"Forget something?" she asked.

My mother pointed at a small, folded pile of my clothes near the dryer. I rushed over and collected it all in my arms. Then I hurried to my room and pulled my dresser drawers open. After putting my clothes away, I turned and looked at my room. Thinking it would help my mother out just a little bit, I went over and made my bed. Then I tidied up a bit of my other things, before I remembered Nathan was waiting on me.

A few minutes later I found myself slinking down the stairs once more. I guess at the time I thought I could blend into the scenery somehow. Perhaps I thought he wouldn't see my flaws this way, or how horrible I thought I looked. I wished his smiling face could see right through me, but instead it was focused entirely on me. He glanced at the present in my hand, and for a moment I thought he was trying to guess at its contents.

"I was going to say I lost your present in a horrible accident," I said, "but I decided against it."

"And I'm the mean one?"

Nathan continued to smile as he sat down with me again. It felt odd for us to be so close together; sitting on the stairs, trapped between two walls. Even if I wanted space, the only space to be found was either up or down. I actually wished he would have come up to the living room. He insisted on not dragging his muddy self further into our house. So I sat with him on the stairs, close enough to feel his heat, and nervously handed over his present.

"You first," I said quickly.

I watched him with deliberate consideration. He paused for a moment, seeming to admire the present. Then he ungracefully destroyed the paper, pulling it from the box it encased. I remember about a hundred thoughts racing through my mind at that moment. This was the first present I got for him. It was probably the first Christmas present he'd opened since moving here. I kept thinking he could be scarred for life if this gift didn't live up to his expectations.

"I hope you like it," I muttered, as I reached for his arm. The fabric of his skintight shirt felt smooth, and I could feel his arm flex beneath my hand.

"I'm sure I will."

I felt awkward now. My hand still rested gently on his arm. "Because if you don't," I said, casually pulling my hand away. "I mean you can always exchange it." The awkwardness had leapt to my brain now, filling my head with nonsensical words that would slowly diminish the entire thought of the gift.

"Bailey," Nathan said calmly. I looked in his eyes. "Why don't you open yours?"

That's it! I needed a distraction. Nathan was brilliant; and thoughtful, and understanding, and everything Tom was not. Damn it! Why did Tom have to come up now? I must have stared at Nathan too long, as he gave me one of those looks. It was the one look that asked before his words asked it themselves. I'd grown increasingly used to that look.

"You okay?" Nathan asked.

"Me?" My eyes jumped away to find my present. "I'm fine." Where did I put my present? There it was! Right next to me. "I just…" My eyes found his again. "It's nothing."

Nathan considered me for a moment. I quickly moved to focus on my present before anything else could be said. Luckily Nathan returned to his own present. As I carefully picked apart the wrapping paper, I heard the box top of Nathan's present being removed. I braced myself for the inevitable. My mom and I probably failed at our task to get him the right thing. He'd hate it for sure.

"Cool!" Nathan said. His statement ripped my attention away from my own task. I watched him remove his present from the box. "Bailey, this is great!" He flipped part of the blue and white article of clothing out of the box.

"I knew you liked the Cowboys," I said, watching him run his hand over the blue letters on the back. "And I thought since you played receiver…" I shrugged. "I didn't know who else to get."

"I think it's awesome," Nathan said, flipping the jersey around. "Irvin's a great receiver too." He looked up at me with a smile. "I really like it Bailey. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, with my insides about to burst apart.

"I better stop messing with it though," he said, as he put it back in the box. "Don't wanna get it all muddy."

"Aren't football jerseys supposed to get muddy?"

"Not this one!" Nathan said. "I wouldn't even think about wearing this to play in." He paused, clearing his throat. "Why don't you open your gift now?"

"Right," I said. "I was getting to that."

The weight of my present suddenly made me aware. I had been holding it this whole time, and up until now it had felt like a feather. Now it felt like a giant stone. In fact, my whole being felt heavy like a pile of stones. I knew it was all in my head, but I also knew all eyes were on me now. Maybe it was the fact that I had nothing to eat all morning, but I felt a little weak and shaky. It was either that, or Nathan's considerate stare had made me weak inside, and I trembled beneath his gaze.

"Well obviously it's a book," I said, filling up the awkward silence with my nervous shaky voice.

"No surprise there," Nathan said. "I hope you like it."

The wrapping paper slipped away from the cover. It was a rather nice book. One of those books you find in some rich person's personal library. It just had that look to it; leather-bound, with gold-edged pages. Together with the golden embossed oval rising from the brown cover, the whole thing just looked like a precious lost tome. Then I realized the oval represented a mirror.

"A collection of works by Lewis Carroll," I muttered, as my eyes scanned over the cover. I felt the corners of my mouth move into a subtle smile. My hands roamed over the embossed mirror for a moment. Then I carefully flipped the book open and turned a few pages. "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland…" I looked up at Nathan.

"I just figured your life is so serious," he said, studying my face. "You could use a little nonsense."

"I don't know what to say."

"Do you like it?"

"Well of course," I said. "I mean, I've always wanted to read it." I looked back at the book. "Only thing I know about it is from the cartoon."

Nathan chuckled. "It's quite a bit different than that."

"It just looks so expensive," I said, gently touching the pages like they would go to ruin if handled any rougher. "Almost all of my books are paperback."

"Well then you deserve something nice," Nathan said.

I looked up at him. A nervous smile spread across my face. "Thank you," I eventually said. It came in a whisper, and I nearly broke into tears. "I love it."

"I'm glad," Nathan said, still regarding me with a considerate smile.

I closed the book with a gentle thud. "Would you excuse me?"

"Sure," Nathan said, straightening on the stairs. I rushed to gather the spent wrapping paper and my book. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"I just need to check on something," I said, before stumbling to my feet. "I'll be right back." With that said, I quickly scurried up the stairs.

Tears started to flow the instant I got to the top of the stairs. I pushed myself around the corner, and rested against the wall there. If anything, I hoped I was out of view from Nathan. I had to contain myself; to keep myself from bawling. The tears continued to stream down my cheeks, and I had no reason why they came. What was I crying about? This didn't make any sense. Sure, things had not been going swimmingly lately, but I wasn't having a breakdown. I certainly wasn't getting emotional over a book.

Struggling for a bit to calm myself, I listened to the quiet. Nathan had not followed me up the stairs. Instead, I could hear him casually rustling around with the present I gave him. I started to wipe the tears away, but realized if I moved he would surely hear the wrapping paper in my hands. So I crept down the hallway to my room. Before I reached my door, I could hear my mother's voice. Normally I didn't eavesdrop on her phone calls, but this one seemed to have her upset.

"No!" my mother said loudly. "Absolutely not! I won't have you getting into a pissing match with my twelve-year-old son." Though I wasn't mentioned by name, I felt obligated to hear this conversation. It was about me after all. "If you come over, he won't be here." A slight pause took place in the conversation. "No. I'm not trying to hide him from you Tom. I just think we should talk before I can trust you not to blow up in front of my kids again. No. This has nothing to do with her." Another short bout of silence filled the air. "You can come over, and we'll talk. If I like what you have to say, then I'll let you talk to Bailey. That's the best I can offer."

I listened for a moment longer, frozen in my position next to my bedroom door. The conversation continued for a little while longer. I could only make out part of what was said, and wished I could hear Tom's half of the call. He always seemed to be hiding some mysterious aspect of his past from me. Alarm struck when my mother abruptly ended the call, and I heard her moving for the door. I barely managed to get in my room before I heard her door opening.

I shut my door halfway, and rushed around in a panic to make myself look busy. Thankfully my mother stopped by the laundry room before continuing down the hallway. I took the opportunity to discard the wrapping paper, and attempted to erase the signs that I had been crying. By the time she reached my door, I had managed to make it look like I was finding the perfect place for my new book. She paused for a moment in the hallway, and then came into my room.

"Oh! I thought you were still downstairs."

"I just came up to put this away," I said, presenting the book.

"Did you get that from Nathan?" she said, moving closer. "May I see?"

I offered her the book, and watched her study it. "This is really nice," she said, as she thumbed through a few pages. "Did he like the jersey we got?"

"I think he's afraid to wear it," I said, with a slight giggle. Really? A giggle? I cleared my throat. "He really liked it."

"Well…" She put my book down on the table next to my bed. "I'm not trying to impose, but do you think there's a way to convince Nathan to let you stay over tonight?"

Bells went off in my head; alarms and whistles, and even that stupid tornado siren. What in the world was my mother asking here? "Why?" I asked, surprised to find the alarm now evident in my voice.

"Tom wants to come by tonight," she said. "We need to talk."

"Are you sure you want to be alone with him?"

"I think it's for the best," my mother said. "There are… some issues. Some things we need to resolve."

I knew she meant me. She didn't even have to say it, and I didn't even have to hear it earlier. Still, a night at Nathan's house didn't really seem like the greatest thing at the moment. I'd just had a weird reaction during a gift exchange with him. "You really want me to stay at Nathan's?"

"I trust him," she said. "A lot more than I trust Tom at the moment. You'll be close by too."

"I don't know," I said. "I mean, I can ask him. Are you sure?"

My mother sighed. "Bailey… I don't really have many options here."

"What if he's busy, or can't have anyone over?"

"Well then I'll understand," she said. "It may be a little forward, but I don't think it would hurt to ask him."

"Okay," I said, watching her back out of my room. "I'll ask."

A few moments later, I found myself slinking down the stairs for the third time that morning. Nathan still sat where I'd left him. This felt awkward, and my body was already filled with nervous little flutters. I suddenly wondered if he would catch me if I just fainted down the stairs. He stirred a bit as I grew closer. I didn't know how to even broach the subject.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"I was thinking," Nathan said. "I mean, if it's okay with your mom."

"What?"

"Do you want to come over and hang out?" he asked. "You know. Just you and me?"

"That's so weird," I said.

"Oh…" Nathan looked down. "If it's weird, I understand."

"No," I said. "Not like weird. I mean, not weird that you…" I plopped down next to him. For some reason I wanted to reach out and comfort him now. "I was about to ask if I could come over."

Nathan's head jerked upward. "Really?"

"Tom's coming over," I said. "Him and mom need to talk."

"Ah, I understand," Nathan said. "Well you can stay over there if you need to. It's just mom and I until tomorrow night."

"Really?" I asked. "That would be great!" I suddenly realized how enthusiastic that sounded. "I mean… that would… well it would be great."

Nathan chuckled as he shook his head. "Well I'm going to take a shower when I get home, but I'll leave the front door unlocked," he said. "Come on over whenever. If nobody answers the door, just come in." He rose to his feet with present in hand. "Don't stand out in the cold."

"Okay," I said, watching him move to the door. "Thank you Nathan."

"Sure," he said. "I understand." He reached for the doorknob. "Like I said… I'm there for you. You're always welcome at my house."

I stood to join him at the door. He opened it slowly, and I held it there to let him out. "I'll need a bit to get ready anyway," I said.

Nathan turned to face me again. "Take your time," he said, "and wear whatever's comfortable."

I rushed upstairs after he left. Suddenly I was faced with all of the possibilities of what to wear. It wasn't like I needed to dress to impress. After all, Nathan was just about as laidback as they came. At least when it came to clothing and the like. He never really seemed to care which way my gender dipped either. Good or bad, he never let on that he preferred either side of me. Though secretly I knew he had a soft spot for people with my condition.

Truth be told, I didn't know why I now suddenly referred to it as a condition. If it had been a lifelong pull or desire to identify as another gender, I had missed it completely early on. My leanings and such, as I preferred to call them, pretty much seemed like an awakening. It was a rude awakening, but an awakening nonetheless. I wasn't really sure if it changed who I was, or if I had already been this person deep down inside. Regardless, it was constantly changing little pieces of me at a time. This much I knew for certain.

I had to admit, after the medication changes, and the first few times jogging with Nathan, I felt exhausted. School felt like a chore for an entire two weeks. Then it got to the point where the morning jogging left me feeling energized. Up until that point, I had been sluggish; going through the day like I wanted it to be over. My friends, mainly Tiffany and Tracy, noticed I seemed more upbeat; more than I had been in a long time, or at least since starting Rajan's treatments. Maybe that's why Rajan insisted I get some exercise.

Deep down, a part of me hoped the exercise wouldn't somehow kick start my body into accepting testosterone. I liked the way I looked and felt at the moment. It was comfortable, and I could manage with it. I didn't want there to be some miracle cure, or some way where my body would start working again. Being a bit "broken" made me unique, and it was a uniqueness I happened to like. I think a few other people liked it too. Plus I didn't want Tom to be right in any sense of the word.

"Heeey Wiley Riley!"

The voice of one my brother's football buddies sounded quite loud through my closed window. I stepped over and looked out over the driveway. My brother, Nathan, and two other guys were greeting each other in the typical jock fashion; bro hugs, fist bumps and slaps on the back. I watched for a moment, trying to decipher what was going on. From what I could tell, three of them had been out together all morning.

"I'm just gonna step inside and let my mom know," Justin said, as he walked up the stairs to the front door.

I continued to watch the other two with Nathan. Though Nathan could easily slip into jock mode, I could tell he didn't seem to enjoy it. In fact, he looked to be shying away from it more and more. The heavier set one, complete with a blotchy red face beneath his cap, was doing most of the talking. For the most part, the other guy, a darker skinned and rather fit player, stood near the car they had arrived in.

"We're heading to the bowling alley and then off to Jones' place," the heavy set guy said, gesturing toward the guy by the car. "Why don't you come with us?"

"I got plans with Bailey today," Nathan said.

"What… Justin's brother?" He shook his head. "Just call that off."

"Why would I call it off?" Nathan asked.

"You trying to hook up with that train wreck?"

"Man… that kid ain't right in the head," Jones said.

"Look," Nathan said. "You guys don't know her. Just drop it."

"See!" the heavy set guy said. "Even got you confused on gender. It's Justin's bro, dude, not his sister."

"Justin know you talk about Bailey like that Wilkins?" Nathan asked, looking at the heavy set guy.

"I'm pretty sure Justin thinks exactly how we do," Wilkins said. "He just doesn't say anything about it."

"I think you'd be wrong," Nathan said. "In fact, I'm positive you're wrong."

"Just ditch the little tranny and come with us," Wilkins said.

"Pass," Nathan said.

"Pussy!" Wilkins blurted out. Then he started laughing. "Hey! That's one thing you won't get from him." He continued to laugh, as Jones joined him in a supportive chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Justin said, coming out the front door.

"Nothing," Wilkins said. "Just a little joke at Nathan's expense. Freshman stuff."

"You coming along?" Justin asked Nathan.

Nathan simply shook his head. "Gonna hang with Bailey today."

"Ah…" Justin said. "Well cool then. Have fun with her. Guess I'll see you later."

The second Justin referred to me in the feminine form, Wilkins shook his head. Though Justin didn't see it, as Wilkins was behind him, Nathan did. Justin dropped into the passenger side, as Wilkins fell in behind him. Jones went around to the driver's side; obviously it was his car. Nathan gave them a subtle wave as they backed out of the drive. Then he shook his head as they went their separate ways.

After witnessing that scene, I rushed to get ready. I didn't want to let Nathan be alone to stew in his thoughts for very long. He might change his mind about me. Something his supposed friends said to him may cause him to reevaluate our relationship. As I searched my dresser for undergarments, I paused amidst all of the rushed action. What kind of relationship did Nathan and I even have? Sure, we were friends, but did we share something more than that? His friends seemed to think so for some odd reason.

I shook my head vigorously, my wavy locks of dirty blonde hair slapping against my neck and cheeks. With Tom gone, and with the somewhat tentative threat of bullying at school gone, I had let my hair grow out even longer. It came down past my chin, as it had before summer started. Tiffany loved playing with it. She passively mentioned that she thought it had grown thicker and wavier. I really hadn't noticed a change, but I let her keep that belief; chalking it up to using more conditioner. It took me a moment to shake myself back to reality.

I hurried to pull fresh undergarments on. I had been taking a bit more care of making things look "right" in certain areas. The latest additions to my undergarments helped quite a bit in that regard as well. I mentioned to Megan how I felt more comfortable when I appeared androgynous. After a bit of private discussion with her, she suggested quite a few things that she used to help her appear more feminine. The last step was convincing my mother to purchase those things Megan suggested; which brought up a brief embarrassing moment in my life.

It was nice to have my mother there for such things, though it caused a bit of embarrassment and confusion between us at first. Aside from bullies and Tom, it felt like everyone around me wanted to help me be the me I felt like on the inside. For the time being I relished the helpfulness and security, but I wasn't dumb enough to think it would last. I knew it could all come crashing down tomorrow. Tom could even come back right now and end it. I tried not to think about him as I slipped on a pair black tights.

I honestly just wanted to forget Tom. I wanted to forget he ever existed. Deep down I never wanted to see his face again. Yet, for some strange reason I felt attached to him somehow. It was quite difficult to explain, but I felt like we needed him. Like the house wouldn't survive without an actual man around. I'm sure that's what my mother felt too, and I probably got the idea from her. She would never admit to it. Even though she could be strong-willed and all, she still had a weakness when it came to needing a man.

The more I thought about Tom, the angrier I got. I shoved a pair of lightweight gloves into a knit cap, and tossed the bundle onto my bed next to my winter coat. It infuriated me to think he could control my life in such a way where I felt so useless; where I thought about him even while he was gone. And it made me madder still to think he could make my mother feel that way. I hastily slipped a white t-shirt over my head, and yanked it down over me.

"He is such a bastard," I mumbled to myself, snatching up a pair of jeans.

Though the jeans weren't necessarily girly, I had found a middle road between genders with some things. My wardrobe had changed slightly recently. My everyday panties, would soon become boys briefs; due to gym coming around the corner at school. Before Tom forced me into panties, I'd worn boxers, but now I found a middle ground there as well. I reflected a moment on how Tom enforcing panties soon became a choice to wear them full-time. In fact, I never asked for my boxers back.

As I wiggled into the jeans, I noticed they'd become more snug than the last time I wore them. I figured they'd been in the wash recently, and just felt tight over the extra layer of tights I added. Truth be told, there were two benefits to the tights. One of them was the fact that it was cold outside, and the other was I felt comfortable sleeping in them the last time I was at Nathan's house. I didn't particularly wear them to be or feel more feminine. Little things like that kept me second-guessing myself constantly.

I spent a great deal of time considering my top, and must have flipped through my collection of shirts ten times. The last time I stayed at Nathan's, I ended up wearing one of his to be more comfortable. So now I felt I should get comfort out of the way first, but I also wanted to be warm and look nice too. I finally decided on an oversized red sweater, that was actually for a girl, but could go either way. As I pulled it from the closet, I thought back on my trip with my mother to get it.

We had just started buying things for my other side. My mother had made me laugh at the store when I tried it on. She thought the sweater was way too big because it came down over my hips, and nearly halfway to my knees. I argued that it couldn't be too big, because it fit perfectly everywhere else. It actually took the saleswoman there to convince her the longer body was designed for modesty and comfort. My mother's reaction made me laugh then, but I wasn't laughing now. All I could think about was my argument with Tom. It kept coming back to me.

"Bailey?" My mother's voice came from outside my door as she knocked on it gently.

I quickly whirled around, and sat down with a pair of black ankle boots. "Come in," I said, as I fiddled with the laces to look busy.

"I found a few more of your things in the laundry," my mother said, as she came through my door. She stopped when she saw me. "Hey… I like that outfit on you."

"You were there when I tried most of it on," I said, while slipping my right foot into a boot.

"I know," my mother said. "I just never saw that ensemble together. You really look good in red."

She turned and started putting my things away. I continued to look extremely busy. Somehow I managed to fake being absorbed in an arduous task of putting on boots. I didn't want her to somehow see my anger, or any other emotion that might be strewn across my face. It would just make her think about my pain, and she didn't need that right now. Either she took too long, or I finished tying my boots too quickly, but either way we ended up in an awkward silence and neither of us had anything to do.

"Stand up," she said. "I'd like to get a better look at you."

Apparently I was wrong. My mother had found something to do. Unfortunately it involved her treating me like her dolled up little girl… or boy. At this point, I didn't even know what she thought of me as. All things considered, that really was the least of my worries. She seemed to be one of the few that loved me regardless, and seldom showed a preference for which gender I was supposed to be at any given time. I put the legs of my jeans down to cover my boots and reluctantly rose to my feet.

My mother was soon fawning all over me. "Take some chap stick," she said, as she shoved it into my jeans pocket. "Are you staying the night?"

"He said it was okay," I said, as I tried to escape her fingers relentlessly teasing my hair. "I can come home though."

"I'd prefer you stay," she said. "I don't know how long Tom will be here, and I'd like to know you're safe somewhere."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said, as she turned away from me. "He'll be here soon though. I think you should get a move on."

"Oh…" I said, as I gathered up my hat and gloves. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

My mother held out my coat for me to slip into. "I want you to behave, but have fun." She fidgeted with my coat. "Take your key with you. Call if you need anything."

"I'll be fine." I looked up into her eyes. "Nathan's a nice guy. He's safe."

"I trust Nathan, but take this as some motherly advice," she said, without missing a beat. "You may not be into boys, as you say, but I swear you've forgotten how they think entirely." She walked over to the doorway before turning to face me. "Nathan just passed up Justin and his friends to spend time with you. I'm just asking that you try to find the reasoning behind that."

I really had nothing to say to that. It felt like something a mother would tell her teenage daughter. Even though my mother had somewhat fallen into the daughter camp when this all started, her advice had always been sound on either side. Maybe I had been stupid in the past, but I did take notice of how boys treated me, especially when it came to my feminine side. Though I stood firm on not liking boys, I really had no idea how to stop them from liking me as a girl.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," I said quietly.

My mother had already moved beyond earshot range. Sure I had doubts, but I didn't want to keep Nathan waiting any longer. I quickly tossed together a few essentials into my school bag, and took one last look in the mirror. Even with my mother's primping, it still looked like I rolled out of bed at the last minute. Still… it was only Nathan. After one last check to see if I had everything, I rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then I scurried downstairs.

"Bye mom!" I shouted as I closed the front door. I didn't even wait for her to respond. After shoving my hands into my gloves, and slapping my hat on, I began the short walk to Nathan's house.

Tom. Why the hell did I keep thinking about Tom? Was it guilt? I was halfway between my house and Nathan's house when I just started thinking about my stepfather. Clearly I had some unresolved issues, but I wanted so desperately to go a whole day without thinking of that bastard. I just couldn't shake him, or any of our history from my thoughts. It was like he had taken permanent residence in my head.

Maybe I did need to get out. Maybe Nathan could help me forget, at least for a day. I looked up the street at his house. Snow flakes drifted down into my face, catching on my eyelashes, where they clung for dear life before melting away. Up ahead I saw Nathan's mother pulling into their driveway; the bright red Honda being hard to miss. I picked up my pace, figuring it would be best to meet her and go in together. Her car settled in the driveway by the time I came near to her house.

A few moments later, Nathan's mother pulled herself from the car. Though I'd been around her before, she had a sense of style that never ceased to amaze me. She was truly an artist at heart, and it showed in every aspect of her living. Her clothes were loud and vibrant, even for winter wear, and her hair fashioned around flowers and butterflies. To call her a hippie would be distasteful, but a lot of her style did remind me a bit of Karen on The Wonder Years. That is if Karen turned out later to be an elementary art teacher.

"Oh, Bailey, hi!"

"Hi Misses Riley," I said, taking a step closer to her. "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too," she said, looking me over. "You look adorable as ever."

"Thanks." I turned my head slightly, and lifted a hand to the strap of my backpack. She turned her attention away, right before the blush came that I so anxiously wanted to hide.

"Are you here to see Nathan?" she asked.

"I guess in a way. He actually came to see me," I said, looking at the house. "He invited me over."

"Terrific," she said, walking around her car to open the trunk. "I'm glad he didn't run off with his teammates." She looked at me and smiled. "Could you be a sweetheart and help me with a few groceries?"

"Sure!"

"Thank you," Mrs. Riley said, handing me a few of the lighter bags. "You just saved me another trip."

"I'm glad to help," I said.

Soon Mrs. Riley had her arms full as well, and was leading me to the front door. As we walked up the front steps, she kept taking glances back at me. "You look different Bailey," she said.

"I grew my hair out more," I said, shrugging.

"No," she said, as she opened the door to the house. "That's not it."

The house looked as how I had remembered it from my last visit. Apparently I was the only thing that changed. Though I still didn't know what Nathan's mother found so different about me. I looked around the house as I followed her through it. The living room - a bit larger than at my own house - had actually changed, but only with the festive additions of a tree and enough Christmas decorations to raise an elf from the dead. For the most part, the rest of the house seemed unchanged.

As we wandered through the dining room, I noticed it was decorated a bit too. A lovely white tablecloth, embroidered with silver, lay wistfully over the formal dining table. White cloth napkins were neatly rolled and fitted within shiny green and red rings. Fine silverware and candleholders were placed out as if we were expecting dinner guests. The silver chandelier over the table looked polished, and shined like it was made of chrome.

"Your house looks lovely," I said, without even thinking about how girly it sounded. Guys didn't say "lovely" when they complimented interior decoration.

"Thank you dear," Mrs. Riley said, as she started to assess her grocery situation. "I figured I would set up the table early for Christmas Eve dinner." She glanced over at me. "You have any plans for Christmas Eve?"

I followed her into the kitchen, and started to put the bags on the counter. "I got invited to a ballet," I said.

"Well that sounds like fun," she said. "I love the ballet."

"I'm not going," I said. "I just got invited."

"Oh." Mrs. Riley gave me a knowing nod. Then she straightened herself. For a long awkward moment she looked me over as if trying to solve a riddle. "Something about you just seems different." She shook her head gingerly as she continued to look at me. Then her lips broke into a smile. "I can't figure it out."

"I've been told that a lot lately," I said. "If I knew what it was myself, I would tell you."

Mrs. Riley continued to smile at me. "You should give the ballet a try," she finally said. "The Nutcracker Suite is a fun one."

"How did you know which one it was?"

She gave a light laugh, and turned to put groceries away. "That's usually the only one running this time of year."

"Have you seen it?" I asked. I leaned against the counter, but tried to stay clear of where she would be busy.

"Oh, probably too many times, with too many troupes," she said, turning to face me. "I think you'd like it. The music alone is worth it." She turned away to put something in the cabinets. "At least I believe so." She paused, and held a small box against her chest. "You just have to take it all in with an artistic view in mind. Are you able to do that?"

"I think so," I said. "I'm fairly artistic."

"I thought you would be," she said, going back to putting groceries away. "You just strike me as the artistic type."

"Well I try to be," I said. "I'm not that great at it."

"What people consider great art is a matter of great conjecture, dear," she said, turning to face me. "I'd say you probably have a lot of potential buried somewhere inside of you. I bet your inner Bailey is beautiful."

"You hardly know me, Misses Riley," I said, half smiling at her.

"I know quite a bit about you," she said. Then for some strange reason she waved me to her, as if we were secretly convening to plot a jail break. As I stepped closer to her, I noticed her voice getting softer, and she took great strides to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. "I probably shouldn't open my big mouth about this, but I think you should know."

"Know what?" I asked in a tone matching her own.

"Nathan talks quite a bit about you," she said. "At first, I thought you were just a girl down the street, but when Nathan let it slip that you were Justin's brother, I knew right away someone special had entered his life. I don't know how much he's mentioned to you, but I assume you know about the girl back in Pittsburgh?"

"He mentioned her," I said solemnly.

"I think you're the best thing to happen to him since her," she said, producing a genuine caring smile. "Moving wasn't easy for either of us. We had to leave there in such a rush, and it was like they were ripped apart." She looked sad for a brief moment. "You remind us both of her, but he seems to think you have so much more going for you." She touched my hair with her fingertips. "I seem to think so too."

"I had no idea…" I suddenly wanted to back away slowly from this conversation, and her hand playing with my hair.

"Well don't let it change things darling," she said. "I don't want ya'll to be weird around each other." She took a step back. "I just wanted you to know that he holds you in the highest regard, almost like a sister."

"I could never replace Jessie though," I said, biting my lower lip softly.

"Nobody asked you to do that," Mrs. Riley said, with a bit of a laugh. "I just thought you should know how he feels." The shower shut off upstairs, causing us both to take pause. "Perhaps I should have kept things quiet."

"No," I said quietly. "I'm glad you told me. Really I am. I just… I had no idea he even put me in the same league as her."

"Dear…" She looked down at me with her whole face smiling. "You're in a better league than her by far. Trust me." She looked up as Nathan exited the shower. "I need to go back out for a few more errands. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Probably all night," I said.

"I'll get some pizza then," she said. "You like pepperoni?"

I nodded.

"Well I'll be back in a little while," she said, hurrying past me. "Tell Nathan I've gone back out would you?"

"Sure," I said, turning to watch her flee from the dining room. "Could I use your phone?" I asked, causing her to look back at me. "I'd like to call a friend."

"You don't need to ask dear," she said, reaching for the knob on the front door. "Mi casa es su casa."

I watched her leave, and then I picked up the phone from the kitchen counter. As I dialed the numbers, I listened to Nathan shuffling around upstairs. It wouldn't be long before he came downstairs. The phone rang on the other side. A familiar voice answered. I took a deep breath, and spoke into the phone. "Hi Tawny… I changed my mind about the ballet."

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 2

Winter. I can't exactly say I hate this time of year. The snow had picked up a bit outside, but it still wasn't sticking. Wood popped and crackled behind me; a roaring fire wrapping my body in blissful warmth. I had taken up residence on Nathan's living room floor, using the coffee table as a convenient eating area. He sat across from me, using the couch as a backrest, while his mother sat to the side in a chair. She continued to fill my head with embarrassing tales of Nathan's childhood.

Elbows on the table, hands propping my chin up; I listened with a bemused smile upon my face. Every so often I would catch Nathan's eye. He was quick to try and hide his embarrassment. I'd never seen him shy like this before. Once in awhile he would deny his mother's story, claiming it happened another way, but never elaborating. It had been so long since I'd felt genuinely good about just being in the moment. There were no expectations, or hidden agendas here.

"And he thought he got away with stealing the cookie, but the next thing I see is him running across the yard with his pants half down, dragging the neighbor's dog behind him. The dog wanted it more than Nathan did!"

My body shook with silent laughter as Mrs. Riley finished her latest story. Nathan's head fell back onto the sofa. He waved his napkin in the air a few times like a white flag, and then tossed it onto his plate. I slid my left leg out, beneath the table, and tapped my foot against his thigh a few times. He quickly snapped to attention, and his face came back into view. I had stopped laughing by then, but for some reason couldn't stop smiling at him.

"Well…" Mrs. Riley stood from her chair and started gathering our plates. "I think I've embarrassed my boy enough for tonight."

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Gotta save more for Bailey's next visit." He spoke to his mother, but his chocolate brown eyes were still locked on mine, as he subtly shook his head.

"I rather enjoyed the history lesson," I said, teasingly tapping Nathan's thigh again with my nylon-clad foot. "I learned quite a bit."

"Unfortunately I have to save some for the relatives coming to visit," Mrs. Riley said with a slight laugh. She turned to make her way to the kitchen. "I picked up a couple of movies you two can watch. One might be PG-13, but I won't tell on you, Bailey, for watching it." She came back into the living room with a smile on her face. "Make sure you get enough blankets, and don't forget to put the fire out."

"I won't," Nathan said, as his mother passed by us. "Goodnight mom."

"Goodnight," she said, before turning to me. "Goodnight Bailey. I enjoyed our evening."

"Me too," I said, taking my focus off of Nathan for the first time in the past ten minutes. "Goodnight Misses Riley."

We both waited a few minutes before saying anything. It had been so easy to look at Nathan all night, and now all of a sudden I felt timid being alone with him. There wasn't any pizza in front of me to pick at. I had a little bit of Coke left, but I really couldn't display interest in that. Apparently Nathan's mother had filled that awkward gap for the both of us. Even Nathan was at a loss for words. A few minutes passed of nothing but crackling, popping wood.

"I'm sorry your mother embarrassed you."

"What?" Nathan looked away from the fire.

"With all of those stories," I said. "My mother's the same way."

"Oh," Nathan said, with a slight chuckle. "I'm so used to that. I mean, it's a bit embarrassing, but I figure every kid has had stupid moments like that in their life."

"Some of us are still having them," I muttered beneath my breath. I slid my left hand under my wavy hair, and rested my head sideways on it. "Tonight was fun," I said. "I needed to get away from my house."

"You say it like the night is over," Nathan said. "It's only eight."

"I just meant…" I looked down at the coffee table. "It's not that much fun at home right now."

"This will probably sound like a dumb question, but is everything okay?" He paused for a moment, studying me. "Like… okay, okay?"

"Things haven't been okay ever since Tom married my mother," I said. "He's just… not right."

"Not right?"

"Like not right for my mother. Not right to be a father." My eyes rolled up to meet Nathan's gaze. "He's just not right for anything."

"I wish there was something I could do," Nathan said. "If you ever need to get away from him, you can come here."

"Thank you." I offered a half-smile to him. For a lingering moment the room filled with silence again. Nathan's gaze went back to the fire. "You're a good friend Nathan."

Nathan's stare remained focused on the fire. "I care about you Bailey."

I let those words sink in for a long moment. Suddenly I felt all of the emotion from earlier building inside of me. I didn't cry this time, though it felt like I would burst into tears at any moment. That's when I realized why I cried before. It wasn't about some silly present that Nathan gave me. It was the fact that he cared enough about me to make the present so personal. He actually related it to the problems I'd been facing, rather than just picking out something I might like.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"Does Justin think I'm screwed up?"

"What?" Nathan's eyes shot over to look at me. "No. Where did you…" He breathed in a deep sigh. "You overheard the guys talking about you."

I nodded silently.

"Those guys…" The fire popped, collapsing an otherwise awkward silence, and one of the remaining logs in the fireplace. "They don't know what they're talking about."

"Do you guys ever…" I mindlessly tapped my foot against his thigh. "Do you talk about me?"

"I guess that depends," Nathan said, returning his solemn stare to the fire. "We talk about you from time to time. I know Justin's concerned about you, but he doesn't think the same as those other guys."

"Don't you think he should know what they think?"

"Do you want to tell him?"

I shook my head in silence, though he wasn't looking at me. Even if I did want Justin to know, I didn't want to break it to him. That was like coming between him and his boys, or whatever you wanted to call it. Nothing good really ever came out of doing something like that. They would probably turn vengeful on each other, and I'd make it worse for everyone. No, I didn't want that at all.

"So what do you talk about?"

"Me?" Nathan asked, as if his life depended on the answer. "I don't know. It's not like we talk about you all the time, or anything like that."

"Well I'm not expecting that," I said, letting a smile slip into my words. "You said you talk about me though."

"I've mentioned things I like about you," Nathan said. "That sort of stuff."

"Like what?" Suddenly the fire behind me seemed to be warmer. I anxiously wanted to know where this conversation would take us.

"Well I think you're fairly smart for one thing," Nathan said. "And though it made Justin a bit on edge, I have mentioned that I think you're cute."

My eyes grew wide with terror as I looked at him. "You told my brother you thought I was cute?"

"Well yeah," Nathan said, now turning to face me. "You are. I mean, it wasn't just something I came out and said, but I mentioned it in passing."

I peeled my eyes away from him as that awkward silence drifted between us yet again. Now I really didn't want the conversation to continue. This moment didn't feel right. We needed space between us and quickly. Something needed to distract us from this moment before I… I felt Nathan's hand on my foot. He held it softly, but firmly. Our eyes locked in a silent stare.

"Why don't we talk about something else?" he asked.

"Of course," I said, my voice shaking.

"Or watch a movie, or something," he said, glancing at the fire. "I just…" He sighed. "I really don't care what those idiots had to say today."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," I said.

"It's okay," Nathan said. "Just…" He looked right at me now. "Justin doesn't think the way they do, and neither do I."

"You don't think I'm screwed up?"

"Well of course," Nathan said, but a giant grin on his face lightened his comment. "You're all kinds of screwed up, Bailey, but that's the interesting part about you."

I pulled my foot from his hand, and playfully kicked his leg. As I shot him a phony glare, his eyes got wide with amusement. Suddenly his hand latched onto my ankle, this time with a much firmer grip. My mouth dropped open, as Nathan grinned, and started to pull me under the table. Before I could get away, he had me at his mercy, and started to tickle my foot relentlessly. I cried out my surrender between fits of laughter.

Being halfway beneath the coffee table, I couldn't get away from Nathan. I tried to push him away with my other foot, but he managed to trap both of my legs. Like an alligator with it's prey, Nathan twisted me around, until I was forced onto my front. Now he had complete and total control of my feet, and ruthlessly let his fingers dance across my soles. I squirmed, trying to get away, as my laughter brought me to tears. There wasn't even anything for me to grab hold of to turn back over.

"Nathan…" His mother's stern voice brought me much needed time to catch my breath. "Let the poor thing go."

"He started it," Nathan said.

"Well I'm ending it," his mother said. "Look at her. She can't even fight back."

"Well she deserved it," Nathan said, letting me go.

"No I didn't!" I said in a pout, as I struggled to get out from under the table.

I managed to recover from being Nathan's captive, but hadn't fully recovered from what he did to me. My face felt flushed and was probably red with embarrassment. It still felt like he had a hold of me on certain areas of my lower legs. My feet felt tingly and slightly rubbed raw from his fingers. Even my body felt fatigued from the struggle and the laughter. The whole thing had been strange, both in experience, and in light of our brief conversation before it.

However, I was no longer thinking about what had just transpired. My mind had moved on. It was now focused on the rather convenient interchangeable usages of the male and female pronouns used by Nathan and his mother. My gender went from he to she in less than ten seconds. It seemed to be almost contagious. The instant his mother used the pronoun she, Nathan had switched from he to she.

"I brought you down some pillows and blankets," his mother said, "since you'll probably forget. You can camp out down here tonight." She smiled as she tossed everything onto the couch. "I'd tell you to make yourselves comfortable, but you two seem to be comfortable with each other already."

"Mom…" Nathan said, as he stood up.

"Do you need something to sleep in, or will you be alright?" his mother asked, looking directly at me.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm fine Misses Riley."

"Well, I'll just let you two be," she said, as she turned to go back upstairs. "You kids behave."

Nathan looked over to me, but I quickly hid my face from him. My face burned like the fire I found myself staring into. Behind me I could hear Nathan shuffling things around. The awkwardness had returned to the room in full force. His mother had called attention to the obvious. She saw exactly the same thing that Justin's football buddies had seen. There was clearly something between Nathan and me.

"You okay?" Nathan asked. His voice was barely audible.

"No…" I said, as I slowly turned to face him.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks now. Nathan stood there, looking at me in a strange way. I gasped in three short bursts of air, and suddenly I couldn't control my emotions. As Nathan came around the table, I started to turn away. He stopped me from turning. For a moment he stood in silence, gazing into my eyes. Then he pulled me into his arms. With what little strength I had left in me, I tried to push away, but Nathan just pulled me in tighter.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. "I was just messing around."

I shook my head against him. "It's not that."

"It's okay," he said, after several minutes of silence. "Let it out."

"I'm sorry," I said, gasping for air.

"Don't be," Nathan said. His hands ran up and down my back. "I'm here."

I buried my head into his chest. My arms dropped to my sides. "I'm so confused," I mumbled into his shirt.

"I understand," Nathan said quietly.

"I don't," I said, shaking my head back and forth against him.

I continued to cry. Nothing seemed right anymore. Nathan had always been the safe bet, but now even that confused me, and he no longer offered anything to alleviate the confusion. He had no words of wisdom tonight. There seemed to be nothing in my little world, at that moment, that made any sense. I had been bombarded with so many things in the last few months. They all tugged me in different directions, but they had the same destination. Slowly and methodically, they all pulled me into a dark pit of confusion. I had fallen down the rabbit hole.

My fit continued. It became tiring, and filled me with so much exasperation that I wasn't sure I wanted to continue the pleasant evening I'd been having. Twice this year I had broken down into complete emotional exhaustion, and both times it had been in front of Nathan. I could feel his shirt turning warm and moist around my cheeks. The tears would not stop; like a valve had been broken inside of me, they continued to flow uncontrollably. I cried, and then cried some more; a selfish display that had probably ruined the night for Nathan.

He simply stood there. As my body grew tired and limp, Nathan held me up. His firm arms wrapped around me, giving me support. I could feel one hand on my back, and another on my head. The latter gently petted my hair. Nathan didn't speak a word. He just held me. Between him and the fire, I collapsed into a wonderful pocket of warmth that seemed set apart from the rest of the world. And I cried.

I really have no idea how I ended up on the floor. Call it an out-of-body experience, but somehow I woke up next to Nathan. The fire had long since been put out, and the room had a stiff morning chill wrapped around the lingering smell of ash. It was impossible for me to be cold though. Not only did the sun filter in softly through the thin white drapes of his living room, but there next to me was the warm body of Nathan Riley.

It would have been nice to stay there all day. I felt safe again. Even though I had ended up under a mountain of covers, next to one of the only boys I've ever had mixed feelings about, I still felt safe. Despite having mysteriously lost my jeans somewhere in the middle of all of this, and seeing them neatly folded on the arm of his couch, nothing could really send a signal of danger to my brain. I only felt comfort, and perhaps that is why it felt so uncomfortable to stay.

I'm sure I left Nathan's poor head spinning that morning. He had barely awakened himself, as I was running around the living room frantically collecting my things. His mind was probably still trying to grasp how I had had a good time, but was in such a rush to get out of there. Not trying to be cruel, but not wanting to stay, I tried to make it as less complicated as I could. Avoiding the tough question he posed, asking me if I was okay, I gave him the best answer I could that would thwart any further discussion. I hardly gave him an excuse.

"I have to get home," I said. "My mom is probably expecting me."

"Sure," Nathan said, as he held open the front door. "No problem." The bitter cold outside felt like a slap to the face. "Hey…" Nathan reached out to gently grab my arm. "Stop by sometime?" His voice still sounded groggy. "You know… during the break?"

"Count on it." I gave him smile, and nodded thoughtfully. "Merry Christmas, Nathan," I said, as I stepped into him, and flung my arms around him.

"Merry Christmas," Nathan said, as he returned the friendly embrace. His hand casually reached up and brushed my cheek. "Take care of yourself."

"I'll be fine," I said, as I slipped away from him. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye," he said, sounding somewhat saddened by my departure.

For some reason I felt ashamed walking away from his house. Part of it was my haste in leaving, but the other part came from what happened the previous night. I had opened up to a boy in a way I would never had considered with any other male. He had seen me vulnerable before, but this time I had admitted my vulnerability. It felt different to me, and I had to reevaluate my thoughts. I really needed a complete system reboot, but I saw that opportunity quickly remove itself from the equation.

Only a few houses away, sitting in our driveway, was Tom's truck. He had come home, as I had expected. What I didn't expect was for him to stay the night. My pace slowed. My heart rate quickened. It steadily became harder to breathe outside in the cold winter air. Thoughts raced in my head, taking me to variations of conversations that might be before me. Would I be the next thing he would put his fist through?

For the second time in less than a day, I could not grasp how I had gotten myself from one location to another. Somehow I had managed to make it to my front door. I don't even remember getting my key out, and I definitely don't remember unlocking the door. The knob turned slowly in my hand, and the door gave that familiar brushing sound as it opened. Without even realizing it, I had stepped inside, and was closing the door.

"Bailey?"

Tom's familiar voice carried down the stairs. It sounded calm, even relaxed. I slowly locked the door, now wishing I had not come home at all. For a small moment I wished I could turn silent and invisible. I imagined casually strolling to my room unnoticed. That's when I heard movement, and Tom's shadow appeared on the door. I turned, following the shadow up the stairs, to meet Tom's eyes gazing back down at me.

"Hey kid," Tom said.

His voice remained calm. He held his head down slightly, and looked at me with a solemn expression. Concern showed in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his ratty jeans. With his relaxed stance, he looked entirely passive. He almost looked apologetic, though I had serious doubts I would ever hear an apology. Tom wasn't that type of man.

I must have looked like a deer in the wilderness; ready to jump and run from any threat that came my way. Though I knew there was nothing to apologize for, I still felt the urge to say I was sorry to him. It wasn't how I truly felt, but Tom had a way of making everyone else around him feel guilty. My hand remained on the door handle. The thought to turn it and bolt must have entered my mind a hundred times in that short moment.

"Can we talk?" Tom finally asked, as he gestured with his head toward the living room.

I shifted uncomfortably, still holding onto the door handle behind me. A single word had not escaped my lips, and I think for a moment I had even held my breath. For all intents and purposes, the man at the top of the stairs had become my worst enemy. I wasn't about to make any of this easy for him.

Tom tucked his bottom lip in briefly, and then nodded silently. He let out a long breath of air, and slowly pulled his hands from his pockets. My hand grinded against the door handle, as I watched him take a step down the stairs. Suddenly he stopped. He eased himself down to where he was sitting at the top of the stairs. His gaze reluctantly fell to the floor, and then back up at me.

"Bailey…" He let another sigh escape his lips. "I don't want you to be afraid of me." His head tilted to the side. "What I did was stupid, and I want you to know I would never do anything to hurt you." His eyebrows raised. "You understand that, don't you?"

I returned his question with a distrusting look, and another uncomfortable shift of my body against the door.

"Will you at least talk to me?" Tom asked. His hands moved up to motion imaginary words passing back and forth between us. "This would be easier if we could communicate, and reach some understanding."

"Why?" I blurted out.

"Why, what?"

"Why should I make anything easier for you?" I asked. "You've never made anything easy for me."

His hands dropped down to grasp the corner of the top stair. "Maybe that's true," he said. "I've been a bit hard on you." He continued to look at me sincerely. "I just want to protect you."

"Protect me by keeping me from my friends?" I asked. "Or forcing me to wear panties? Steering me into a world of confusion, while I was just having fun with my girlfriend?"

"Wow," Tom said, leaning back slightly. "When did you grow up?"

"You forced me to," I said, slowly sliding against the door, down to the floor. Tom started to stand up. "Don't," I said, catching him off guard. "Don't come closer."

"Okay," Tom said, as he sat back down. "I'll stay up here, if we can keep talking."

"Where's mom?"

"She's in the bedroom," Tom said. "Justin is still out with his friends." He let another sigh escape him. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Honestly," Tom said quietly, "I really don't know how to process any of this. I was raised with a different train of thought, and I'm honestly finding it hard to change my views." He paused for a moment. "I'm not ashamed of you though. I'm just scared for you."

"Scared for me?"

Tom twisted himself around, and rested his back against the wall. His head tilted toward the ceiling, and a long drawn-out breath filled the silence in the room. "Several years ago, before I met your mother, I was married to my first wife. Her name was Margaret, and she and I had a child together; a boy. We probably married way too young, and neither of us knew the first thing about raising a kid." Tom's head slumped forward. "Truth be told, I probably still don't."

I pulled my knees to my chest. The cold metal door could still be felt against my back, but I had chosen safety over comfort. I still didn't trust Tom. Cautiously, I watched him struggle for a moment with his story. About ninety percent of me was still ready to jump up and rush out the door. The other ten percent was split between wanting to hear what he had to say, and wanting to return to my room at some point.

"He was a little older than you, when we both noticed him starting to drift away," Tom said. "He just became completely withdrawn, never wanting to do anything with us." Tom's gaze remained on the floor in front of him. "I started to worry. I started to force him to do things; involve him with his family. I thought he was depressed, and I wanted him to know he was loved."

"What was wrong?" I asked; my interest in Tom's past growing.

"No matter how much we involved him in our lives," Tom said, "or tried to show him our love, he continued to fall away." Tom lifted his fist to his mouth, and sat in silence for a moment. "I started to get impatient. I started to snoop, thinking it was drugs. Only…" He paused for a moment, as if to collect himself. "Only what I found, at the time, I thought was far worse than drugs. At my age, with the way I'd been raised, I just couldn't accept it."

"What did you find?"

"Love letters… They all started normal, like any love letter would," Tom said, taking another long breath. "But then they started talking about how pretty my son was. How they liked his feminine nature, and how giving he was when they made love." Tom paused, shaking the bit of anger away that had crept into his voice. "I'm sorry. You didn't need to hear that."

"I'm old enough," I said. "You were mad that he was having sex?"

"No," Tom said, shaking his head. "I mean, in a way I was. He shouldn't have been having sex that young." Tom looked down at me. "And neither should you or your brother, mind you."

"I'm way too young for that," I mumbled.

Tom chuckled. "I'm glad to hear that." His demeanor slowly diminished to a solemn nature again. After a moment, he finally decided to continue his story. "It wasn't what he was doing, or even the comments on his effeminate nature that bothered me. It was who he was doing it with." Tom sighed once more. "You see… all of the letters were signed by the same person; a boy named Roger."

"Your son was gay?"

"Yeah…" Tom muttered, letting out a half-hearted breath of laughter. "I couldn't accept it. I could not, for the life of me, cope with my son being gay." He turned his gaze away again, back to the carpet beneath him. "Looking back now, it was the most petty thing in the world. It shouldn't have mattered, but I let it matter. I let it rule the way I treated him."

I watched Tom sit in silent solitude. Not daring to get closer to him, but wanting to somehow bring him out of his current slump, I offered up the best thing I could; more conversation. "What happened between you guys?"

"At first, I wanted to confront him," Tom said. "But then I thought it would drive a wedge between us. After all, I wasn't even supposed to know about his secret love life." Tom shook his head. "The things I said around him, and the way I viewed homosexuality, was the whole reason he kept it a secret in the first place." Tom glanced down at me. "So I tried to keep him closer to Margaret and me. I kept him busy, thinking that maybe it would put too much distance between him and Roger."

"You tried to break them up?" I asked.

Tom nodded. "It didn't work though. They found ways to see each other, and I found more letters." Tom sighed yet again. "That's when I tried to cure his effeminate nature, thinking it would make him less queer." Tom turned to look at me. "I tried to make him do 'manly' things, thinking it would make him act like a normal man."

"Like you did with me…" I said quietly, as my own gaze went to the floor.

"I don't know why I did it," Tom said. "It didn't work then, and I'm sorry I tried it on you. It's all I could think of."

"You don't need to fix me," I muttered.

"I know," Tom said. "You made that clear at Thanksgiving." A slight pause left an awkward silence lingering in the room. "I might have been mad at you that night," he finally said, "but I think I was more angered at seeing my own failures again. I shouldn't have asked you to stop being who you are."

I quietly observed the unmoving floor beneath me. "Did he resent it?"

Tom let out the biggest sigh since we had started talking. "My son…"

I looked up to catch Tom's eyes. They were watery, and he looked ready to burst into tears. He struggled to look at me, and eventually had to turn away.

"My son is dead," Tom finally said. He took a moment to clear his throat, and collect himself. "I couldn't let it go. I couldn't let my son be gay." For a long moment, Tom sat in silent contemplation, before finally finishing his story. "I realized nothing was working, and so I confronted him about it. I told him he couldn't see the boy anymore, and I made sure of it by moving us to an entirely different state."

"That's horrible!" I blurted out.

"I'm the last person who needs to be told that," Tom said, trying to hide the pain as best he could. "I drove him into depression, and ultimately…" Tom looked at the ceiling. "He was so passionate. I mean, he was everything that queer said he was in those letters, and I just couldn't let him be."

"He killed himself?"

"Bailey…" Tom straightened himself on the top of the stairs, so that he looked directly down at me. "If I have ever done that much harm to you…" He cleared his throat once more. "If I've made you feel that hopeless, then I'm sorry. I don't ever want to cause another person to go through what I put my own son through."

My chin rose slowly. Tears filled my own eyes, and I could barely look away from my stepfather. For a long moment, we sat staring at each other. Silence filled the room. In the distance I think I heard my mother cough, or maybe even cry. I wasn't sure anymore. It seemed to be just me and Tom in this small little world. How could this man even live with himself? He had done all of this before, and it ended up killing his own son.

"You… made me… feel…" My voice came out staggered; filled with rage, confusion, and perhaps the same passion his son had. "So… worthless."

Behind gritted teeth I prepared an onslaught of the harshest words in my vocabulary at the time. I wanted to make Tom feel worthless. I wanted to tell him how awful he was as a parent, and how he should never have been able to bring a child into the world. Only… I didn't say another word. There was already too much pain in the man's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tom said, his voice nearly a whisper. "If you'll let me, I want to try to make it up to you."

"Can you magically erase the last six months?" I asked, with a half-hearted laugh.

Tom offered a slight, but knowing smile. "I can't do that," he said. "But maybe we can start this all over."

"I don't think I want to go through it all again," I said.

"Oh, no," Tom said. "I meant the way it's been handled. We can toss out the playbook. Start all over. Build everything from scratch."

"Is everything about sports to you?" I asked, letting a smile slip into it.

Tom smiled a bit bigger now. "If you don't like sports, then we can do something else."

"I like some sports," I said.

"Oh?" Tom leaned back. "What sports do you like?"

For the rest of the morning, Tom and I talked. He sat at the top of the stairs, and I sat at the bottom. We talked about everything, from sports to politics, and from school to my gender identity. It was the first real conversation we ever had together since he had married my mother. Neither one of us moved from our safety zone, but it seemed like we were growing closer. Our talk went on for hours, until a phone call eventually broke it up.

"It's for Bailey," my mother whispered to Tom from around the corner.

"Who is it?" I asked, still not moving from the bottom of the stairs.

My mother finally came around the corner, showing herself for the first time that day. She looked tired, but altogether happy. I imagined she had a long conversation with Tom the night before. "It's Tawny," she said, with a bemused smile.

I sat still for a moment, contemplating having to go through Tom to get to the phone. As if reading my mind, he stood and removed himself from the staircase.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said quietly, before disappearing down the hallway.

I quickly gathered myself up off the floor, and rushed up the stairs. My mother lingered near me, causing me to shoo her away. Once I thought everyone was out of earshot range, I held the phone up to my ear.

"Hello?"

The voice of a very excited Tawny greeted me on the other end. I couldn't do a thing to calm her down. Normally she was cool and collected, but at the moment she was a completely different Tawny. She seemed more like Megan, when Megan talked about all of the things she did with the popular kids, or like Danielle going on about the latest popular television show. It didn't seem to fit her character at all, but as I listened to her more, I started to enjoy this new side of Tawny.

Ever since I had met Tawny, I always felt a strong connection with her. We hardly ever saw each other outside of our group, or school, but we seemed to have something going between us. I could talk to her about nothing all day, and our conversation seemed to go on for hours, but in reality only lasted about ten minutes. Tom shutting the shower off, quickly snapped me back to that reality. I confirmed my plans with Tawny, and listened as she grew even more excited. Then she asked me a rather poignant question, which didn't seem to weigh too heavily on me at the time, but seemed to set the mood for the rest of my Christmas break.

"So…" Tawny said over the phone. "Boy or girl?"

I thought about it for a huge amount of time; all of two seconds. "Girl," I answered in a rushed voice. Tom would be out of the bathroom soon, and I wanted to avoid him.

"Cool," Tawny said. "I'll tell my parents a girl friend is coming then."

"Uh huh…" I said, not paying much attention to her now."

"Hey," Tawny said. "You okay?"

My attention snapped back to the phone like it was a monster that had grabbed hold of my ear. "Huh?!"

"Are… you… o… kay?" Tawny asked, sounding rather sarcastic.

"Yes," I said. "I'm good. I just have to go now."

"Okay," Tawny said. "I guess I'll see you later."

"See you then," I said, to which we both hung up the phone.

"So…" my mother said, coming down the hallway. "What was that all about?"

"As if you didn't know," I said, giving my mother a wary look.

"Indulge me," my mother said with a smile.

"I changed my mind about going with Tawny," I said, reluctantly.

"Where are you going?" Tom said, as he walked up behind my mother.

"Ballet," my mother said, making it sound more magical than it really needed to be.

"Ah," Tom said, simply turning into the laundry room. "Nutcracker?" he asked, as he came back out into the hall.

My mother simply nodded, as she continued to smile at me. At least she acted as a temporary buffer between the two of us. Tom came up even closer behind her, and simply looked at me over her shoulder. I still felt uneasy about being near him. Especially with the vision of his fist going through our wall fresh in my mind. However, at the moment, he had a goofy grin on his face to match my mother's smile.

"Wait…" I said, looking at Tom. "You're okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Tom asked, rhetorically. "Won't kill you to see it at least once in your life. It didn't kill me." He turned to walk back to the bedroom. "But I would like you home afterwards for Christmas Eve dinner."

"I agree," my mother said; her smile now a firm, solemn stare. "You can hang out with your little friend for a bit, but please be home for dinner." She turned to walk away.

"Mom," I said quietly, stopping her in her tracks. I waited for her to turn and face me. "I don't know what to wear."

"Just wear something nice," she said, as if it were as simple as that. My lack of movement demonstrated that it wasn't so easy. "Oh…" She studied me for a moment. "I suppose you'll need a bit more help than that."

"I'd just wear a sweater," Tom said, from the bedroom. He poked his head out the door. "A lot more comfortable than wearing a stupid suit."

My mother continued to look at me, as if reading every expression on my face. "Tom…" she finally said. "I don't think this is a dilemma about sport coats and ties."

Tom walked out into the hallway again. A confused expression littered his face, until finally, after a few moments of staring at me, a light bulb came on in his head. "Ah," he finally said, nodding his head. "I get what you mean." He looked at me a bit longer. "I honestly don't know…"

"I'm sure we can find something," my mother said. "You have some nice dresses."

"No," Tom said, causing my mother to turn. We both looked at Tom, as he stood on the other end of the hallway.

"No?" my mother and I both asked in unison.

"I…" Tom looked both of us over. "I've been a jerk. Probably for too long." His hand snaked up to rub the back of his head. "I know it's not much, and probably won't even begin to make things right between us, but I'd like to…" He looked down at me, his lips forcing themselves into a reluctant smile. "Bailey… Would you let me buy you something nice to wear for your first ballet?"

I couldn't even begin to find an answer to his question. As my mother turned to face me, and Tom continued to stare, I simply sat there dumbfounded. "Um…" My voice worked, but my brain wasn't at the moment.

"I'd like to try to make this work," Tom said. "Consider this as me investing in who you are. What do you say? A nice dress? Shoes?"

I looked up at my mother. She gave me one of those looks that said it was my decision, but I should probably take a chance and go for it. To be honest, I couldn't disagree with what Tom had put on the table. New clothes did have a certain appeal to me. I looked back at him. He looked sincere, and even slightly hopeful that this could be a big turning point between us. However, we had done this before, so I decided to approach it with caution.

"And mom?"

"Huh?" Tom look at my mother. "Yeah, of course. We'll all go," he said, looking back at me. "Whatever you're comfortable with." He gave me another sincere smile. "Please?"

I took a deep breath, wondering if I could eventually trust this man again. "Okay," I finally said, confirming it with a nod. "I need to change though."

It felt weird. Tom sat with my mother in the front seat of his Chevy Caprice , while I sat in the back. Were we just pretending to be a happy family again? I stared at what little snow there was, as it flew by in a blur past my window. It reminded me of the dream I had a long time back. The dream where my family drove me out to the middle of nowhere, and left me with strangers. Sometimes I wondered if it wasn't actually an asylum they left me at in my dream. I wondered if this was the day I would be abandoned. Dreams do sometimes come to fruition after all.

I smoothed my pleated plaid skirt over my black tights. At first, I didn't even want to dress as a girl, but figured I should if I was trying on girls clothing. After all, I had pretty much locked myself into going as a girl with Tawny. My mother had suggested I wear something easier to slip in and out of, and I had taken her advice. However, now, as I looked myself over, I appeared more like a schoolgirl; complete with my Mary Jane shoes and green sweater.

I had refrained from as much conversation as possible. For many reasons I wanted to keep up the illusion of distance between Tom and I for a while. So I watched the scenery on the way to the mall. I listened to Tom bridge the awkward silences with talk about his job; how he and a new partner were considering taking things in a different direction. My mother returned his chat with her own, talking about how her workload might increase next year. They discussed Justin briefly, and then asked me if I was excited about school next semester. I gave the usual "not really" reply.

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to go shopping for a new dress right before Christmas. We had a horrid time finding a parking spot, and Tom insisted on walking in with us. I figured it was his way of demonstrating how unashamed he was of me. Although he didn't account for my mother and I walking about two blocks in the cold while wearing skirts. Eventually, however, we did make it into the mall alive.

Perhaps the worst fear I had when dressing, was the possibility of someone I knew finding out before I was ready to show them. Nothing instilled that fear more, than going out into a public place with my parents. With friends, I could be passed off as someone's cousin. However, if anyone recognized my parents, and then put me together with them, that would be the end. It was like an instant surrender, knowing there would be no way to deflect the oncoming barrage of questions. I actually tried to avoid the situation when possible.

Fortunately for me, there were certain times of the year where I could get away with it. Halloween had perhaps the most solid defense of any holiday. However, as we walked through that crowded mall, three days before Christmas, I could tell that everyone had become so self-absorbed with last minute shopping. They had enough worries than to think about a strange little boy, dressed as a girl, fighting their way through the crowd. I felt uneasy, but I also felt quite confident that nobody would recognize myself, my mother, or…

"Tom?"

The three of us spun instantly toward the male voice. As soon as I saw him, I recognized Jack; one of Tom's poker buddies. He hardly glanced at my mother, but he took a longer, more interested gander at me. It was as if he recognized me, but then didn't want to believe it was true. Tom's friends had never seen me dressed as a girl, but they certainly knew what I looked like. This was the first time I had been clearly identified by someone via my parents.

"Hey Jack…" Tom said, and turned back to us. "Why don't you two go on ahead. I'll catch up." His lips curled into a nervous smile.

My mother tugged at my arm. Eventually she had me turned around, and walking away from the two men. After a quick glance at the stores we passed, I suddenly realized where we were. The familiar booth displaying sunglasses, the mixed smells of scented candles; they were all bringing back memories. That's when I looked up and saw the familiar bright pink and blue neon sign. We were headed right to the front door of 'Tweens.

The layout of the store seemed all too familiar. Racks and tables of clothing displayed different seasonal wear, but it all felt the same. I knew where the changing rooms were, and even where the sales rack sat. It now had a few of the autumn items that I modeled hanging there for half off. This would have been the last place I would think about getting an outfit for the ballet. Apparently my mother felt differently about it.

"Welcome to 'Tweens," a familiar voice said from behind us. "Is there anything I can…"

As I turned toward the voice, I instantly took in the girl's brunette hair; done up in tight curls. Her bright blue eyes lit up. Her lips danced to a pleasant smile. The look she gave me was one of recognition and friendliness. I smiled back nervously, not sure of what to say.

"Well it's certainly nice to see you again, Bailey," Casey said.

"You remember me?" I asked, with a hint of surprise in my voice.

"I tend to remember the models that I like," she said, giving me a wink. "Where's your partner in crime?"

"I'm actually with my mother today," I said, offering a nodding gesture behind me. Only, as I turned to look, I noticed my mother had wandered off to look at clothes. "We're just looking…"

"Well just let me know if you need anything," Casey said, bringing my attention back to her. She leaned in closer, so that only I could hear her. "Maybe we can work out a discount if you agree to come model again."

"I…" I gave her another nervous smile. "Sure… I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Then maybe we can arrange something while you're here," Casey said, straightening herself. She glanced over my shoulder. "I think your mom found something."

"Oh," I said, turning back to look at my mother. She had a red dress off the rack, and was looking it over.

When I turned back to say something to Casey, I realized she had gone to help someone at the register. I took a quick glance out into the mall, and saw Tom still talking with Jack. I wondered if he was trying to explain away my existence. When Jack glanced around Tom at me, I just knew something had been said about my appearance. Either there was curiosity, or perhaps utter disgust, but he had to be thinking about it in some way.

I decided to let it slip completely out of my hands. Nothing could be done about it, other than Tom telling boldface lies. I knew I couldn't do anything. The best I could do was pretend everything was fine. Not that anything felt fine. I mean, some things felt fine, but there was this huge feeling of something simply being off. Something, somewhere in the universe, made me feel that this new Tom was different; but not in a good way. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"What do you think of this one, Bailey?"

My attention was snapped away from my stepfather, to focus on my mother. When I saw the dress she held up, I at least found comfort in knowing one thing was completely wrong. I eyed the elaborate dress, covered in bows and frills. It seemed to have everything but bells and whistles. My mother's smiling face peaked over the shoulder. The only way the dress could get any worse, is if it actually did have the bells and whistles. I shook my head defiantly, and stormed toward my mother.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 3

Never expect a happy ending, but allow yourself to be surprised by one. My reading teacher, Mrs. Fisher, said that once. I never knew if it was a quote, or simply her own words of wisdom. She was, after all, an older, and wiser, gray-haired woman. So I always figured it to slightly lean in her direction. Though I never cared to look it up, I've always found the phrase to be quite accurate during certain phases of my life.

Perhaps that's what got me through a lot of the bad times in life. I never expected things to go my way all of the time, or even most of the time. Those times that things turned out all right, I allowed myself to be surprised by them. However, I never expected someone to ride in on a white horse and save me. Though it surprised me to know that a few people were willing to try.

I still didn't know what to expect from Tom. The shopping trip actually went off without a hitch, other than the small debates with my mother about style. We did have a bit of a problem matching shoes with the dress I got, but that eventually worked itself out as well. Tom didn't even mention an ill word about me when he recalled his talk with Jack. It all seemed too good to be true, and I had taken it all with a grain of salt.

At home, things seemed pretty normal. I expected Tom to overcompensate somehow with my mother, but things went back to the way they were before he stormed out. He wasn't extra lovey-dovey with her, and he certainly wasn't trying to act like his absence meant something more than it did. For some reason I kept waiting on the edge of my seat to see if the old Tom burst out of the new Tom's chest, or if the aliens brought back the right Tom. Everything seemed in place, but yet something still didn't feel right.

There were a lot of questions, in my mind, that seemed to have no real answers. One of the most pressing questions seemed to be if Tom was telling the truth or not. If his son had indeed committed suicide over Tom's oppression of his sexuality, then how had Tom come out of that fire unscathed? How could he just start all over again and be fine with it all? How could he be fit to be a parent again?

Granted my gender issues weren't evident when he first came into our lives, but why would my mother allow him to take care of those issues? The only reasonable answer I could think of, was that my mother strongly believed in second chances. Perhaps she saw it as a way for Tom to gain redemption somehow. I personally believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt. However, Tom had already proven himself doubtful on several occasions. I was finding it extremely hard to trust the guy again.

Some time after dinner, that same night, he had a long talk with Justin downstairs. A slight case of paranoia set in, when I thought he was trying to turn my family against me. But things just went back to normal. Tom seemed to be practicing more restraint with his temper, and less restraint with what Justin and I did. Maybe he went to an anger management class or something. At any rate, something seemed totally different about him.

For the next two days, Tom seemed himself in every respect. Except he did seem a whole lot nicer, and in a better mood than usual. Perhaps it had something to do with that big business venture he was working on. Maybe it had the potential to make him rich. I had no way of knowing, as Tom rarely discussed his job with me or Justin. Tom just seemed like a nicer person in general. He even encouraged me seeing my first ballet with Tawny, which I found completely odd.

I started that little afternoon adventure probably a little too early in the day. To be honest, I was a complete nervous wreck. I did not sleep well, and all I could think about was being alone with Tawny that afternoon. Of course, we wouldn't be completely alone, but I seriously doubted her parents would pay much attention to us. The strangest part was not knowing how Tawny felt about me, and myself not even knowing completely how I felt about her.

This day just seemed way too special, and I did not want to be the one that didn't put any effort into it. After fixing myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, I locked myself away in the bathroom. I thought a nice hot shower would relieve some of the nervous tension I felt, but it didn't leave a dent in it. There was hardly anything to shave, but I ran a razor over my legs for reasons I can't explain. Then I spent some time really making sure every inch of my body was clean.

I had been having serious doubts about going tonight as a girl. It seemed like I had to, because I had already agreed to do it. The strange thing was that I had no second-guesses about agreeing to it, yet all the doubts came pouring in afterwards. As I was patting myself dry, I stared into the bathroom mirror. I didn't really want to go through with this, but I figured if I was going to do it, I would go all the way. My hand reached out for the peppermint-scented body lotion. It was bought solely for this occasion.

I think what drove me crazy the most was the waiting. From the moment I stepped out of the bathroom, up until the moment Tawny arrived to get me, most of my time was spent sitting and waiting. I spent the first hour or so doing my nails up perfectly in a shiny, rich red. My fingers and toes looked like they were all adorned with dark, sparkling rubies. I tried to write. I tried to read. For the next few hours I tried to do anything to get my mind off of the afternoon ahead.

Eventually I looked up at the clock and figured I could get ready. That realization brought back more of the nervous tension I had been feeling all morning. Back in the bathroom, I had called out for my mother's assistance more times than I could count. She helped me with my hair, putting it all into tight fluffy curls. I begged for her to help me with my makeup. She helped me achieve a soft, youthful glow, with just a touch of maturity.

I probably called for her to help about a hundred times. I'm sure I would've screwed things up without her help. She cheerfully took it all in stride, and I knew she had better things to do. It wasn't like she was getting any help in the kitchen, as she slaved over our Christmas Eve dinner. I don't even remember if I thanked her for everything, but I hope I did. This entire week I had acted like a complete basket case, and had probably driven her close to the edge of insanity a few times.

I must have gotten everything situated in the bathroom, because I soon found myself back in my room; fretting over every little detail about my attire. The dress, for this special occasion, had been the source of an afternoon full of debate and near congressional decision making. My mother had simply gone into shock that day; possibly due to the suggestion coming from Tom. She picked out the most ridiculous dresses I had ever seen.

For some weird reason, it was like my mother had regressed my age in her own mind, and wanted to dress me up for a tea party. Her choices in dresses were borderline embarrassment. From the very start, she became obsessed with bows and ribbons. I don't even think the looks I gave her registered. It took me about an hour just to get her off of the five-year-old-dress-party theme. The next hour ended up being spent on inner debates of cost versus practicality.

That is until I saw the perfect dress. We had just come out of our fifth store, when my eyes locked onto a dress in another store's window. It had everything I imagined my new dress would have. Like a picture taken right out of my head, the dress greeted me; ironically on a mannequin who held her arms wide open. I think I floated to the store window. The dress, the mannequin; they both beckoned me forward. I had to see it close up.

As I approached the store window, I marveled at the dress' simplicity, and form. It seemed perfect for the occasion. The boat neck stretched firmly, but delicately, to the shoulders, where it slithered out to the mannequin's wrists. While the sleeves were slightly loose and draped, the body of the dress hugged the mannequin like a bodysuit. Until it met the skirt, which, like the sleeves, subtly flared and draped out to dance upon her knees.

This dress had everything I wanted. It was even wine colored, as opposed to all of the laser red dresses we had been looking at. I wanted red for the seasonal occasion, but didn't want much attention from it. Somehow we lost Tom at yet another gadget store. My mother caught up to me, however. She looked the dress over, and then looked at me. As if reading my mind somehow, she knew that I wouldn't leave the mall without the dress in the window.

"Come on," she said with a smile. "Let's see if they have one in your size."

With those words, we had embarked on a quest to get the perfect dress. I smiled as I looked over it, now safe and sound in my bedroom. The perfect dress was mine, and had even been on sale. This made it even more perfect for everyone else. Of course, it set in motion another dilemma, which took us through the rest of the afternoon. The only drawback to finding the perfect dress, was finding the perfect shoes to go with it.

It wasn't due to lack of variety that we had a hard time finding shoes to match the dress. The most common problem we ran into, was that we couldn't find any in my size. Most of the ones we found, out of the ones that I wouldn't twist my ankle in, were clearance items. My mother seemed to think we hit some glass ceiling on the dress, and had to purely settle on clearance shoes. In all honesty, I personally would have attributed it to the fact that I'd gone up half a shoe size almost overnight.

Either way, we did eventually have to settle on clearance shoes. Somehow, in the fight for sales wrapped in holiday bliss, I actually managed to find the perfect pair. They were wine colored, and matched my dress as if they were made for each other. Though the two inch heels worried me a little in the winter time, I imagined the weather wouldn't change much before the big day. I could easily walk in them. They fit, and the crushed velvet on them was absolutely too good to pass up.

I casually traipsed around my room, running my fingers over the dress as I passed it. Another glance at the clock told me I could get ready, but I'd be waiting for a little while afterwards. I decided to dress myself anyway. Maybe it would calm the butterflies practicing flight maneuvers in my stomach. As I reached for the newly bought pair of white tights, my mind raced through the possibilities this evening might hold.

So the dressing up part of the afternoon wasn't terribly exciting. It also didn't last as long as I had hoped. Looking at the clock I discovered I still had about a half hour to burn. I eased into the chair at my desk, and thoughtfully gazed out the window. Seconds ticked by on the imaginary clock I had conjured in my head. Eventually a blue midsized van made it's way up our street, and slowly turned into the driveway.

"They're here," I shouted, as I exited my room.

"Do you have your coat?" my mother asked from the kitchen.

"Yes," I said, rushing down the hallway.

My mother intercepted me before I could get to the stairs. "Do you have Tawny's gift?"

"Yes," I said, trying to squeeze by her. "It's in my coat."

She carefully looked me over, a big smile spreading across her lips. "You look really nice," she finally said.

"I have to go," I said. "I don't want her to have to walk to the door." Just as I said this, the doorbell rang. "Well too late for that I guess."

My mother stood at the top of the stairs, as I carefully made my way down them. I checked myself over in the mirror next to the entryway door, and then reached for the doorknob. Surprisingly, it wasn't Tawny's face that greeted me. As I swung the door open, my eyes beheld a very nice looking young man. His black hair appeared well-groomed, combed over to one side, and his smile was like it came straight from a Crest advertisement.

"Hello?" I managed to squeak out.

"Howdy miss," the man said, in a deep southern voice. "My name is Trevor James. I'm sorry to bother ya'll today, but I'm looking for a Mister Tom Walker. Is he by any chance available?"

I subconsciously nodded, as I stared into the man's bright blue eyes.

"He's just in the dining room," my mother said from atop the stairs. "I'll run and fetch him."

"Much obliged," Trevor said.

"Would you like to step inside?" I asked, noticing the man shivering a bit.

"Thank you…" Trevor held his hand out, and looked at me expectantly.

"Bailey," I blurted out, suddenly catching on. I extended my hand toward his.

Trevor gently took my hand, and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Bailey," he said, as he came through the doorway. "Do you usually dress up this nicely for Christmas Eve?"

"I'm actually just on my way out," I said, retracting my hand. "To the ballet," I added.

"Oh, how splendid," Trevor said. "You have a lovely time Miss Bailey. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The same," I said, trying hard not to blush over his southern hospitality.

"Mister James," Tom said from the top of the stairs. "Come in. Come in."

"Please…" Trevor said, as he walked up the stairs. "Just Trevor."

"I see you've met Bailey," Tom said, smiling at me and waving goodbye.

"And your lovely wife," Trevor said.

"Yes… Susan," Tom said, taking Trevor's hand at the top of the stairs. "I have a small office through the dining room. We can talk there."

I simply shook my head in wonder as they disappeared around the corner. "Who the…"

"Bailey!"

Tawny's voice made me nearly jump out of my skin. I turned to look at her, or rather, I turned to see the most beautiful version of Tawny I'd ever seen. Tawny somehow managed to hide the body of a gymnast beneath everyday clothes. Her velour dress hugged her upper body, much like my own dress, but I had nowhere near the definition her body had. The stunning green matched her emerald eyes, and made them sparkle.

The skirt of her dress brushed atop her knees, where it met a pair of shapely, fit legs encased in nude pantyhose. I followed the perfect curvature of her legs down to her emerald green pumps. Then my eyes took it all in again in reverse. They moved up her toned legs, past her skirt, settled on her defined stomach for a moment, and then up some more. Eventually I met Tawny's amazing eyes; the same ones I had spent a month emphasizing in an art project.

"You look amazing," I said, catching her cheeks turn a faint rosy red.

"Thanks," Tawny said, still looking me over. "You look fantastic. I mean, you really look good in red."

"Thank you," I mumbled. Her eyes met mine, and I could feel my own blush burning away on my face. "I…" My hands fumbled inside of my coat. "I got you a present," I managed to stammer out. "It's not much…"

"I got you something too," Tawny said, taking the present in one hand, and wrapping her other hand around mine. "It's in the van though." She smiled at me. "I'll give it to you after the ballet."

"Well…" I glanced back and forth from the present to her eyes. "You can open mine now."

Tawny continued to smile, as she gently took the package in her hands. I glanced out the storm door as she rustled the bow. Once the paper started tearing, I turned my head to focus on the present. Nervous flutters came back all of a sudden. She peeled the paper away.

"Oh neat!" Tawny exclaimed as she pulled the rest of the wrapping away. "A calligraphy set. I've always wanted to try this."

"I figured… you being artistic and all…"

"I love it!" she said. She started flipping the box around, looking at it from every angle. "This is really nice."

"I hope you can have some fun with it," I said, catching her smile rising to greet me.

"I'm gonna learn how to do this," Tawny said, "and then I'm going to write you a thank you letter with it."

I smiled back at her. "That sounds like a plan. I'm glad you like it."

"I do," she said, looking down at it again. "Oh, it's even got the old-fashioned paper to write on."

"With envelopes, and stuff to do wax seals with," I said, pointing to it on the box. "I got one with a T for the stamp."

"Oh cool!" Tawny said. "Like old letters." She looked up at me with a big smile. "Thanks, Bailey!"

She suddenly stepped forward and flung her arms around me. I was unprepared and nearly knocked backwards by her embrace. Her cold cheek rested against mine. Whatever she wore, be it perfume, or body lotion, smelled absolutely amazing. Just as I got my arms to work, to embrace her in return, Tawny pulled away from me. She looked the present over one more time, and then looked me in the eye.

"We better get going," she said, still smiling. She reached out and stopped me from putting my coat on. "Trust me. You won't need that." She glanced out at the van. "It's like a hundred degrees in there."

"Okay," I said, with a slight laugh. "Mom," I shouted up the stairs. She eventually came through the kitchen door. "We're leaving now."

"Alright," my mother said, smiling down on us. "You kids have fun. You both look very pretty."

"Thank you, Misses Walker," Tawny said.

My face must have matched the color of my dress, as I turned to open the storm door. At least outside I could blame it on the cold. Tawny followed me out after saying her goodbyes. My mother waved one last time, as I pulled the front door closed. I let Tawny descend the stairs first. In all honesty, I wanted to catch a glimpse of her in this fantastic outfit from behind.

I couldn't believe this was Tawny. In all of the time I knew her, I had taken only a slight interest in her physique. I knew she had nice legs, at least from the knees down, but the rest had always been covered up. Beneath baggy jeans and sweatshirts, Tawny hid an absolutely rock hard body. How in the world had I not noticed this before? I tried to think back, and realized I had never really seen her body. Maybe I just never noticed her before now.

"Do you do gymnastics?" I blurted out, letting curiosity get the better of me.

"Yes…" Tawny stopped and looked back at me. "I thought you knew that."

I shook my head, still looking at her midsection. "It's just…" My eyes shot up to meet hers. "You never told me."

"I swear I did," Tawny said with a giggle. "What brought that up anyway?"

"You have a fantastic body," I said. "Like the gymnasts in the Olympics."

Tawny shrugged. "I guess…" She turned to make her way to the van again. "I mean, I work out for it, but I wouldn't say I'm that caliber."

"What caliber would you say you are?" I asked, quickly catching up with her.

"I just do it for fun," Tawny said. "Something I enjoy." She turned to me; her hand resting on the door handle. "I like to workout too."

"I'm already learning today," I said, as she slid the side door open.

"And the afternoon's just starting," Tawny said, smiling.

After a brief introduction of myself to Tawny's parents, the next several minutes hung silently, and uncomfortably stale in the air of their minivan. The local performing arts center happened to be a good half hour away, and I wasn't used to riding for two minutes before someone in my family had to complain about something. Where Tom would be complaining about wasting gas at red lights, Tawny's father casually stopped and waited patiently without a word. It seemed unreal, like everyone switched to their "best behavior" mode.

"You see what Bailey got me?" Tawny asked, breaking the silence. She leaned forward with my gift to show her mother.

"That's really nice," her mother said, taking it from her. "Didn't you say you wanted to try calligraphy?"

"Yeah," Tawny said, glancing back at me while rolling her eyes over her mother's comment. "It even has the old paper and stuff."

"So Bailey…" Tawny's father said over them. "Are you into art as well?"

"More of a hobby," I said. "I like music though."

He glanced into the rearview mirror and nodded. "Well… plenty of music tonight."

"This is my first ballet," I said.

"Well hopefully you'll enjoy it," her father said. "It's not for everyone, but you might like it."

The look he gave me, made me think that maybe he didn't enjoy it that much. His eyes shifted back to driving, and Tawny shifted back into her seat. Her mother handed the present back to her.

"That's a very nice gift, Bailey," she said. "Have you been enjoying your time off from school?"

"It's been a little boring actually," I said.

"Oh?"

"I miss my friends at school."

"Well enjoy the break while it lasts," she said with a slight laugh. "It doesn't last long."

"Read any good books lately?" Tawny's father asked.

"Dad…" Tawny said with a groan.

"What?" he asked. "You said she likes to read."

"I do," I said, putting my hand on Tawny's arm. "I actually just got a book from my friend Nathan, that I've been reading."

"Nathan huh?" her mother asked.

"One of my brother's friends," I said. "He lives down the street."

"Is he cute?" she asked.

"Mom!" Tawny blurted out.

"Well I'm sorry," her mother said. "I don't mean to embarrass you, Bailey."

"You're not embarrassing me," I said, with a bit of nervous laughter. "He's actually pretty cute."

Tawny's head turned slowly. She had a look of shock across her face, as she mouthed the word, "Really?"

I shrugged, with my own look that said, "I don't know. I'm just making conversation."

"Is he an older boy?" her mother asked, continuing her peaceful interrogation.

"He's a freshman in high school," I said. "So not that much older."

"I see," her mother said.

Tawny gently squeezed my thigh, garnering my attention. "You never told me you were into Nathan." She stared me down with a smug grin.

"Well he's nice and all," I said.

"Nice and cute?" she asked.

"Well he's not ugly, that's for sure."

"Does he like you?" Tawny asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I've gone over to his house a few times."

"With or without your brother?" Tawny asked.

"Without…"

"Better be careful," her mother said, chuckling. "He might ask you out one of these days."

"Oh, I don't think…"

My words and thoughts trailed off. Casual chitchat might have just brought up the fact that a boy was into me; more than I knew already. Tawny continued to look me over with a smile and a splash of curiosity. I left out the part about sleeping over at Nathan's house. That would have seemed too weird with Tawny's parents listening. As it stood, they thought I was a girl, and I was gushing about being around a boy. That only made it weird for me.

"Leave the poor girl alone," Tawny's father said. "I think you're starting to embarrass her now." He acknowledged me in the rearview mirror, with a look of amused concern.

"So anything else exciting happen over the break?" her mother asked.

"Not really," I said. "Just reading and writing."

"Oh, you're a writer too?" she asked.

"Just in my diary," I said.

"Well who knows?" her mother continued to say. "Maybe you'll write a novel someday."

"I don't know about that," I said, with a chuckle.

Tawny continued to look at me with a sense of curious wonder. "You have a diary?" she asked in mouthed words.

"Don't you?" I mouthed back at her.

"Well yeah…" she mouthed, and then leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "But I'm a girl."

She leaned back. A huge smile was spread across her lips. I could still feel her warmth, or maybe that was the immense heat inside the van. Either way, it decided to linger, and sent a shiver up my spine. Tawny continued to smile, and simply shook her head at me.

"Maybe I've got a bit to learn too," she mumbled.

"Tawny's been working on some secret art project since November," her mother blurted out. "Won't tell us what it is, or when she'll have it finished. It's a big mystery around our house."

"Mom…" Tawny said, again with exasperation.

"Sorry," she said. "You just haven't said much since you got in the van."

"Well maybe there isn't much to say," Tawny said, defiantly.

"What are you working on?" I asked.

"I… can't say," Tawny mumbled, sinking back into her seat.

"Won't even tell her friends," her mother said, laughing a bit.

I turned to a now sulking Tawny. "Have you talked to Megan lately?" I asked.

"Are we there yet?" Tawny asked.

"Oh stop that," her mother said. "You're not five."

Tawny turned to me. I was expecting her to give an answer about Megan, as I was honestly wondering how she was doing. Instead, Tawny just smiled at me. "I think you're really going to like this ballet," she said.

And with that, our somewhat eventful journey became rather uneventful. The last half of it turned into listening in on random chitchat between her parents. I started to wonder if something happened between Tawny and Megan. She had avoided that question like it was her death. I really hoped nothing had happened. They both seemed really good together. Not only that, but some of their better qualities were starting to rub off on each other.

"We're here," Tawny's father said, after a few more minutes. "I'll let you ladies out, and then find a place to park."

This brought a whole slew of emotions to my mind. At first I realized that I was one of the ladies he referred to. Then I realized I had never been dropped off at the door before. Even when Tom took me to the store, and had me run in for something, he had always parked. It was his way of weeding out laziness. Never before had I been treated with this degree of courtesy.

The cold air whipped around my legs the moment I stepped out of the van. If I hadn't worn tights, I definitely would have frozen my legs off in mid step. In contrast, the heat inside wrapped around my legs like a warm hug. The heat felt amazing, even when I peeled my coat off. We stood in the foyer for several minutes after being dropped off. Eventually Tawny's father joined us, and we picked up our tickets on the way in.

The grand curtains hid the stage behind folds of crimson red, trimmed with gold. For a moment I watched people shuffle about, trying to find their seats in the organized chaos. Our seats were about halfway up the auditorium, behind a half wall dividing the major aisle. I remembered coming here before, with my mother and brother, for some town hall meeting. Justin and I competed in a rousing game of trying to be the first to get our feet up on the top of that half wall. Being a lot younger than him, and quite a bit shorter, I ultimately failed.

Tonight seemed too special to even think about attempting such a childish thing. It felt weird to actually think that I had grown up at the age of twelve. Maybe it was the event, or maybe the way I was dressed, but for some reason doing something so "boyish" disgusted me. I was prepared to act the part of a lady, and I was dressed to that end. Tawny, no doubt, carried the same sentiment; as she gracefully eased into the chair next to me. Due to an issue with the tickets, her parents had to sit behind us; which left Tawny and I pretty much alone.

Nerves and anxiety were welling up in me like steam in a locomotive. I fumbled with the program in my hands. Tawny looked and smelled so good, that I already felt unfaithful to Tiffany. I had serious doubts kissing her on Halloween, but everyone insisted on an even exchange. Only now, after the fact, did I wish that I never partook in the little kissing party. We all said back then that it wouldn't mean anything. Now I had to pretend that it didn't mean anything.

"Clara is supposed to be really good this year," Tawny casually whispered into my ear.

The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. I nearly jumped from my seat, but somehow managed to stay settled. "Who?" I whispered back nervously.

"Clara," Tawny whispered, pointing to the character's name in the program. "She's the main girl."

"Oh…" I said quietly.

I wasn't staring at the name though. I was staring at Tawny's perfectly manicured finger. It seemed she put as much effort into this afternoon as I had. Tawny dressed the part, did her hair and nails, and had added a touch of makeup to the mix. I think she even wore perfume. Tawny just wasn't the type to wear perfume. So different was she, that it made me nervous just being around her this way. This Tawny was too feminine; too intoxicating.

Tawny leaned in even closer, to where our heads were nearly side-by-side. I could even feel our meticulously groomed hairdos touching. Her lips were never further than a few inches from my ear, as she went through the program with me. I watched as her pristine fingernails went from name to name. She explained the basic story to me, in not so many words, claiming I just had to see some of it. Her hand grazed mine, where it held the program, and I felt her lips touch my cheek.

"I'm glad you came tonight," Tawny whispered. That's when I felt Tawny's lips press against my cheek. They were only there for a moment, but they left a lasting feeling with her gentle kiss. "I hope you have a good time," she whispered.

The lights flickered on and off as Tawny moved away. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, while people hurried to their seats. The orchestra began their warm up. The crowds' voices fell to whispers, and then faded completely; save for a few coughs. Soon the lights were dimming, and the subtle tap of the conductor's baton commanded silence from the orchestra and audience alike. All was quiet in the auditorium.

Out of the stillness, a song arose from the orchestra. The heavy crimson curtains slowly gave way. The spotlight fell on an older gentleman, carefully wrapping a toy in his shop. Another man leapt to his side with all the reflexes of a cat on the prowl. So began the story of which I never knew I would be waiting to see. Next to me was the person I never knew I would be seeing the story with. And on stage unfolded a spectacle I never thought I'd be willing to behold.

The scene cut away to a party, the guests all dancing and celebrating around a festive tree. On stage, the dancers pranced about like gazelles; a flourish of strength and grace. I had almost lost myself in the music and beauty, when I felt Tawny lean into me. Her arm now pressed against mine, and I felt nervous all over again. However, she did not encroach upon my space further, and I soon found myself lost in the play once more.

I eventually picked out who Tawny was talking about before. The young Clara moved so elegantly, that I couldn't help focusing on her. Having never seen the ballet before, or any ballet for that matter, I really had no idea what was going on. So I tried to manage one character. Clara seemed easy enough to follow, being the only person on stage wearing an ivory dress with pale blue ribbons. It also didn't hurt that she was absolutely stunning.

Tawny remained close enough that I could feel her warm body. I continued to watch the elegant Clara glide around the stage. It amazed me how fast and smoothly she could fly from one place to the next. The dancing on stage blended with the music, and Tawny's warm arm against mine sent another shiver down my spine. Before I knew it, Clara's godfather had arrived, and was entertaining the audiences both on stage and off with his dancing dolls.

As I assessed the situation, I realized I was actually having a good time. Perhaps six months ago I would have sneered and balked at an invite to the ballet. I don't even think I would have gone through with it with Tiffany, even if she was the one performing. In fact, I didn't even know she did ballet until Tawny mentioned it. I watched the performance for a bit, while my curiosity built up inside of me.

"Did you do ballet with Tiffany?" I asked, in a faint whisper in Tawny's ear.

I turned back to look at the stage as Tawny turned to me. "That's where we met," Tawny whispered. Her hot breath still made me shiver inside. "I didn't stick with it as long as her though." She held off until the music started to crescendo. "I'm just not the ballet type."

For some reason I felt this warranted some kind of a response, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know what a "ballet type" was, or even meant. Even if it meant one thing to me, it could mean a totally different thing to Tawny. So instead of responding, I simply went back to watching the ballet. I watched Clara's godfather present her with the nutcracker, and a little bit later watched her brother break it.

There were a ton of questions floating around in my head, but for the next several minutes I pushed them to the back. The party on stage had ended, and Clara had come back downstairs to find her nutcracker. Tawny sat in silence next to me. I figured it just wasn't the right moment to talk with her about life. Before long, Clara was off in a dream world, and I was hoping I would wake up from mine.

It was hard fighting the urge to talk to her. Even during the brief intermission, I decided to talk mostly about the performance. I didn't want to say anything stupid to ruin the afternoon, so I kept Tawny busy by asking her more about ballet in general. She explained the show, up to that point, in a little more detail. To be honest, I was quite grateful for this, as I had found some of it a bit confusing.

I didn't expect to instantly "get" ballet, this being my first time and all, but I ended up liking what I saw. Having Tawny explain the story in a little more detail helped me a lot more than had I been watching it by myself. I also learned a little bit about ballet from her that night. Tawny explained what it meant to be en Pointe. Whether or not I grasped it at all, she explained a few other things to me. Terms like pirouette, grand jete, sissonne, attitude and battement seemed to fly right over my head.

To be honest, most of what Tawny talked about went completely over my head. It didn't seem to matter. I was having fun just being there in the moment; finding not only a new experience, but also a different side of Tawny as well. Basically I had enjoyed listening to her talk, more than understanding the subject. I really didn't want the afternoon to end. Perhaps that's why I felt such disappointment when the performance eventually came to an end.

Tawny and I kept glancing at each other with smiles while we applauded the performers. They came out to bow and curtsy. The applause seemed to get even louder, when Clara and the prince bowed together. Eventually the thunderous applause trickled to nothing, and was replaced by the mass shuffling for coats. I helped Tawny put her coat on, and she in turn helped me with mine.

"So what did you think?" Tawny's father asked.

"I actually liked it," I said. "It was different, but in a good way."

"Well good then," he said. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"I know you have to get home, Bailey," Tawny's mother said, "but would you girls like to stop for some hot chocolate?"

I glanced at Tawny. She nodded to me with a tremendous smile on her face. I returned the smile and turned back to her mother. "I think I have time for that," I said.

"Splendid," her mother said. "We can stop by that new Starbucks that just opened."

"We ready?" Tawny's father asked, turning to us with his coat in hand.

After each of us nodded, the four of us slowly made our way out of the auditorium. Again, Tawny's father offered to fetch the van while we waited in the foyer. And again, I wasn't used to this kind of treatment. I almost felt like royalty for the evening. Tawny slipped her arm around mine as we walked to the foyer. Her parents separated, as her mother made her way to a window, and her father stepped out to brave it in the cold winter air.

"Did you really like it?" Tawny asked, below the mumbling crowd.

"I honestly did," I said. "I mean, I didn't understand probably half of it, but I liked the music and the dancing."

"You liked the girls in tights," Tawny teased.

"Well…" I shrugged innocently, looking around us. "I did like it for different reasons."

"Would you want to see another one?"

"I'd be willing," I said.

"Wow…" Tawny tilted her head to the side. "Really?"

"You seem surprised."

"Well… I mean, that's great if you like it," she said. "I can't ever get anyone to go with me."

"Wait…" I raised my eyebrow. "You said you didn't like it."

"Oh, Bailey…" She smiled at me. "You have a lot to learn about…" She suddenly stopped herself. "My likes and dislikes," she finally added.

"I'm definitely interested in learning more about you," I said, with my own smile.

"Maybe we can do something about that then," Tawny said, now looking at me more seriously. "We should hang out more."

"We should," I said, matter-of-factly.

Tawny glanced up for a moment. "My mom's waving for us to go," she said.

Back in Tawny's family van, everyone was raving about the ballet. That is, everyone was raving except for Tawny's father. I had pegged him for someone that took very little interest in ballet in general. For all intents and purposes, he was probably only making sure his family had a good time tonight. The poor guy had probably been bored out of his mind. At least he got to enjoy women in tights; if that was his thing.

I honestly had lost all track of time inside the auditorium. The sun had already started setting, making the cloudy sky burst with color. It had actually turned out to be a good day. There were still issues at home I had to deal with, but they could wait until tomorrow. Tawny kept her arm wrapped around mine, as we talked about the performance. The van had just started to warm up by the time we pulled into the parking lot of Starbucks.

"Let's go in," Tawny's father said, looking at the drive thru line. He turned to his wife. "It'll give them a little more time to hang out."

"You just don't want to sit in that line," she said, chuckling.

The four of us spilled out of the van, and quickly made our way inside. It seemed small and stuffy inside, but that didn't seem to bother us all that much. Tawny's father ordered for us, after a bit of debate with her mother. They eventually got their two caffeinated whatevers, and we got our hot chocolates. It felt good just holding the cup in my cold hands.

I turned, ready to follow her parents to a table, but Tawny quickly pulled me in the opposite direction. I didn't realize it, until that moment, that this was her father's clever ploy to let us get away from the adults for awhile. Her parents even expected it, not spending a second convincing us to sit with them. They slipped into a booth at the front of the store, while we slipped into a booth at the back. We had a clear view of each other, but also had our privacy.

"So…" Tawny said.

I took a sip of the hot chocolate. "What?"

"What do you want to know?"

"About what?" I asked, shaking my head.

"About me, silly," Tawny said.

"Oh…" I set the cup on the table, and looked at it for a moment. "How…" I looked up into Tawny's expecting eyes. "All that stuff you said about not liking ballet… is that true?"

"I never said I don't like ballet," Tawny said, pausing to sip on her own hot chocolate. "I just said I get tired of the same one every year."

"You don't like the Nutcracker?"

"It's okay," Tawny said, kind of giving a half shrug. "I mean, it's a great one to get people interested in ballet, but…" She paused to take another sip of her beverage. "Well it's like watching a rerun too many times."

"I see," I said, taking a sip of my own drink. "How long have you been into ballet?"

"I've enjoyed watching it since I was six," Tawny said, "but didn't like doing it for very long." She sipped on her drink. "I only took classes for two years from age eight."

"Didn't like it?" I asked, sipping on my drink.

"I just wasn't the ballet type," she said.

"What does that even mean?" I asked.

Tawny smiled at me for a moment. "Ballet's all about grace with power." She paused to take a sip of hot chocolate. "Let's just say I wasn't that great at the grace part."

"But you still liked it?"

"I loved it at first," she said, "but the aspects I loved about it, led to something I love even more."

"Gymnastics?"

Tawny nodded. "More power and coordination, than grace," she said with a smile. "And there's a little bit of dance mixed in for good measure, but it all doesn't revolve around dancing with music."

"Can I watch you sometime?" I asked.

"Really!?" Tawny asked, nearly choking on her drink.

"Unless you don't want me to," I said.

"No," Tawny said. "I mean, I'd be thrilled, if you're interested. Just nobody has ever been that interested before."

"Well… I never knew you were into it," I said.

"That's because I don't talk about it much," Tawny said. "Like I said before, it's just something I enjoy. I'm not the world's best or anything. I'm not even on a competitive team or anything."

"I'd like to see anyway."

Tawny studied me for a moment. She sipped on her hot chocolate. "You can come watch me work out if you'd like," she finally said.

"Would it make you nervous?"

"Why would it make me nervous?" Tawny asked.

"I don't know. Having some boy watching you."

Tawny giggled. "Don't be silly," she said. "You're not a boy."

"Oh, so it's like that huh?" I asked, feigning anger.

"Yep," Tawny said. She leaned forward and looked into my eyes. "Just… like… that."

"You know…" I said, leaning forward a bit myself. "The more I learn about you, the more I find you fascinating."

"You're quite fascinating yourself," Tawny said, her eyes still locked on mine.

"I don't know about that," I said, looking down at my hot chocolate. "I can be rather boring."

"On the contrary," Tawny said. "You're way more interesting than anyone else I know."

"Even Megan?" I asked, slowly looking up from my drink.

Tawny leaned back when I mentioned Megan. She looked at me for a little bit longer, and then glanced out the window. When she glanced back at me, I could tell something was wrong. Tawny bit her lower lip. Then she quickly checked to see where her parents were, before leaning back towards me.

"Can you keep a secret?" Tawny asked.

"Of course," I said.

"I haven't talked to Megan in about two weeks," Tawny said.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Tawny said. "At least as far as I know she's fine." Her voice grew softer. "The last time I was with her…" She glanced quickly towards her parents. "We fooled around."

"You made out?"

"We almost had sex!" Tawny said harshly.

"Oh, wow! Really?"

"We were making out," Tawny said, "and all of a sudden she was pushing for more and more. By the time I started having second thoughts, Megan had already gotten my jeans halfway down to my knees."

"You didn't want to do it?" I asked.

"Not at all!" Tawny said. She started to cower, as if she was reliving the moment. "I asked her to stop, but she kept pulling at my panties. Almost had them off of me when I started telling her we'd gone far enough."

"I always assumed you two were…" I looked at Tawny, as she started to recoil back into the booth seat. This was not the Tawny I knew at all. Or maybe I never really knew the real Tawny. She looked scared; unsure of herself. "What did you do?"

"I pushed her away," Tawny said. "She tried harder. I pushed her off of me…" She glanced around the store. "She wouldn't stop, so I hit her."

"You hit her!?"

"Not like hit her…" Tawny said. "I didn't punch her, or anything like that." She picked up her hot chocolate. "I slapped her across the face. If anything I was hoping it would bring her back to her senses. But she got mad and left… Without a word. Walked home even."

"That's awful," I said.

"I know," Tawny said, almost sulking. "I shouldn't have slapped her."

"No," I said. "I mean, it's awful she did that to you. You had every right to stop her."

"I just didn't think…" She looked down for a moment. "I thought with someone like her… with her condition… it wouldn't be like a guy."

"What do you mean?"

Tawny looked up into my eyes, with a faint smile. "I thought it would be more gentle. Like a girl would be. Instead, I got the dick side of her."

This caused me to giggle a little bit. "I'm sorry," I quickly said. "Just the way you said it. I'm sorry."

Tawny smiled at me. "It's okay," she said. "I just want to forget it ever happened. I don't even want to see her again."

"You know…" I put my hand on hers.

"What?" Tawny asked.

"Huh?"

"You were gonna say something," Tawny said.

Her words seemed like a distant echo in a large chasm. As I sat there in Starbucks, with my hand on top of Tawny's, I suddenly had my whole outlook on life crushed in one single moment. My world turned upside down, and took me toppling with it. At that moment, right up at the front of the store, I saw something I dreamed I would never see. I barely recall Tawny's head turning in front of me, for I was so deeply engrossed in the scene at the counter.

A boy I knew, had his hand in the back pocket of a girl I knew. Right where nobody expected them to be, I saw the secret nobody was supposed to see. A blonde headed boy named Vince, cupped the ass of a black haired girl named Tiffany; my Tiffany. And in front of anyone who happened to be looking on, the two of them turned into each other and kissed. Then she giggled, and they kissed again. They ordered drinks, and then she reached up for his chin, and they kissed again.

My heart grew heavy in my chest. My eyes were locked on them, and I don't even remember if I blinked. They stood there, kissing, not caring who would, or could see. Their drinks came; four of them. Two other people knew about this secret affair, and were aiding in it. Vince pulled his hand from Tiffany's pocket, paid for, and carried the drinks out. Tiffany waited a moment longer, until Kate came out of the bathroom to join her sister. They laughed about something, and then they left.

"Bailey?" Tawny's voice still seemed distant. "Bailey? Are you okay?"

I lowered my gaze to look at Tawny.

"Say something," she said.

"Was that… Did I just see that?"

Tawny slowly nodded. I looked down to see she was holding both of my hands firmly. When I looked back up at Tawny, I saw her mouth stood open. She kept looking at me with a strange mixture of concern and horror spread across her face.

"Bailey," she said calmly. "Breathe. Take a deep breath."

Breathing… That seemed like a good plan. I figured I'd give it a try. So I did. I took a long steady breath. Then I took another. And another.

"That's good," Tawny said.

"I'm going after her," I said.

"No you're not," Tawny said.

"I can't just let them walk --"

"Yes," Tawny said. "You're gonna have to right now."

"But they --"

"I know," Tawny said, keeping a calm voice. "Bailey. Honey. Babe. Look at me."

I focused on Tawny. She continued to give me this concerned look.

"Listen," she said. "If you go after her right now. Dressed how you're dressed. Screaming at her in front of the world about how she's your girlfriend and she's a cheating bitch…" She looked me over. "You're gonna have a lot more problems than relationships on your hands."

"I don't --"

"Hey," Tawny said, squeezing my hands. "I'm here with you. I'll help you get through this. Okay?"

I nodded quietly.

"I need you to stay calm," Tawny said. "We'll sit here for a minute longer, and then we'll get you home."

"How could she do this?"

"I don't know," Tawny said. "You're way better than that loser."

"All of her 'I'm a lesbian' crap…" I glanced out the window. "And another boy? He's supposed to be gay…"

"Bailey…" Tawny waited until I looked back at her. "We'll figure it out… together." She quickly let go of my hands.

"You kids ready to go?" her father said, as he walked to the middle of the dining area.

"In a minute," Tawny said, smiling at her father.

"We'll be in the van," he said, as he turned to walk out with his wife.

"Think you can make it home?" Tawny asked.

I nodded, and that's all it took. Tawny made it a point of "being there for me," as she helped me out of the booth. She gave me support as she helped me get my coat on. She even carried the quickly cooling contents of my drink out to the van for me. Her arm snaked tightly around mine as we walked. She helped me into the van. It seemed like yet another out of body experience as we continued our trip back into town; back to my home. I just wanted to go home.

For the moment, I had forgotten about the scene I had witnessed earlier. I became more focused on returning home, and remembering the fun parts of the afternoon. Somehow my Starbucks cup came up empty. Tawny had even managed to get a bit of conversation out of me before we parted ways. It had been long enough for her to give me a present. I vaguely remembered what I got for her, and felt worse when she brought it up. She seemed to love whatever it was that I gave her.

I faced the bitter cold once more, as I slipped out of the Simmons' van. After a quick glance at the house, I turned back to Tawny. "Would you like to come in for a minute?"

"Sorry," Tawny said, looking genuinely disappointed. "I can't."

"We have our own family dinner to get to," Mr. Simmons said.

"But maybe you two can get together over the break," her mother quickly added. "Maybe spend the night?"

"Sure…" I mumbled, still focused on Tawny.

"I'll call you," Tawny said, reaching out to give me a hug.

"Thank you for the fun evening," I said, trying to hold my emotions in check.

"It was a pleasure to have you along, Bailey," Tawny's mother said.

"Merry Christmas," Tawny said, as she finally broke our embrace. Her green eyes were filled with concern and remorse.

"Merry Christmas," I responded, more to the entire family.

The door slowly shut. I inched away, holding my hand in the air. Tawny and her mother thoughtfully returned the wave, while her father cautiously backed into the street. In a matter of seconds they were gone, and I turned to face my house. Our front stairs seemed like a mile climb for my already tired feet, and cold legs. I wanted to go in, and go straight to sleep, but I knew I had a family dinner of my own to suffer through.

"Hey kiddo," Tom said, as I closed the front door.

"Hi," I managed to mumble, as I trudged up the stairs.

"We're just getting dinner on the table," Tom shot back, without so much of an inkling he noticed something out of place. "Good timing."

I managed to raise my head long enough to feign a pleasant smile. "I'll just drop this in my room, and change," I said, holding up Tawny's gift.

"You don't have to change," Tom said, as he smiled back at me. "You look nice."

At the moment, I was so mixed up inside that I couldn't tell if Tom was being genuine, or not. He seemed a little too pleasant, and not often did he openly offer me the choice of staying dressed. My mother glided up beside him, and slipped her arms around him. Tom carefully switched his glass to his free hand, and I realized the culprit for his mellow state; eggnog. He glanced back to my mother, who was also all smiles now.

"Why don't you just freshen up," she said. "You do look nice."

"Okay," I said with pause. "I'll be in in a minute."

I heard them kiss each other with a smack as I walked away. They were probably loaded just enough to be happy. Either that, or they really were happy with each other. I neared my room, and wished it was a deep void that I could slip into. Everyone around me seemed to be happy; everyone but me. Their voices carried down the hallway as I crossed into my bedroom.

"How was that?" Tom asked.

"You're getting there," my mother said. "The compliment was a good start."

"I'm just not used to this," Tom said. "I came from a family of boys. I raised a boy, and started off here with two boys."

"It's just going to take patience," my mother said. "If Bailey wants to be a girl…"

Their words trailed off, most likely into the kitchen. I found myself slumped against the wall to my room. My mother's words troubled me, and I wished I hadn't overheard their discussion. I didn't want to be a girl. Even as I stood there in a dress, I knew I didn't want that. I just wanted to be myself, whoever, or whatever that happened to be.

Was I kidding myself though? Did everyone else see something I didn't see? I was a boy, after all. Despite my attire, or the way I acted, I still had everything that a boy technically had. I was a boy in a dress, standing in a boy's room. My chin lifted. My eyes danced around my room; determined to put this matter to rest. If for nothing else, I just wanted to uphold my own sanity.

What I saw worried me even more. I had somehow been living in denial for six months. My room didn't resemble that of a boy's room at all. There were a few remnants left, but somehow I had let femininity spread like the tendrils of a wild vine. I desperately glanced around for something; some untouched piece of my room that hadn't been invaded. However, the more I looked, the less I found.

Nail polish littered my dresser top. A skirt, on a hanger, hung from the top handle. My night table held feminine lotions and nail grooming supplies. A small stack of girls' magazines had taken over a third of my desk, and sat next to a small stuffed bear. The pale pink night shirt, I had slept in the night before, still laid on my bed. Next to it, a pile of freshly cleaned panties and socks.

My bed sheets had become a neutral white with red coverings. None of the sports memorabilia Tom had bought me hung on my walls. Instead, I had my own art, most of which was done in my spare time. It didn't exactly scream girl, but it didn't help the other way either. As my eyes moved to my closet, I found it was far easier to pick out my female attire than any male attire that might be stuffed away in there.

Everywhere I tried to find a shred of maleness in my room, I found a purse, or a pink flip-flop. Instead of finding a comic book, or a gadget, I found white-framed sunglasses, or an emery board. In place of a jersey, or ripped jeans, I had lacey leggings draped over my chair. Every single little nook and cranny was littered with things only a girl would have. My denial slowly began to slip away, and I was afraid of what would replace it.

"Bailey…" my brother shouted down the hall. "Come eat!"

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 4

The gray carpet seemed dull; as dull as the gray sky outside of Doctor Dinesh's office. I normally made myself at home on Rajan's couch. Today I didn't feel at home. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere for that matter. My baggy male attire did nothing to hide how I truly saw myself these days. I wasn't anywhere close to being male. Nor was I any step closer to being female. I just fell into this void somewhere in the middle.

"Bailey…" Doctor Rajan Dinesh made his way into the office, closing the plain wooden door behind him. "How have you been?"

"Terrible," I managed to mumble.

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" Rajan asked, as he eased into the comfortable brown leather chair adjacent to the couch. "We have the afternoon."

I slowly peeled my focus away from the window. As I looked up at Rajan, I saw genuine concern in his eyes. This guy had always seemed like more of a friend than a doctor. I felt I could tell him things now. Nothing ever got back to my parents, except the really important medical decisions. These little makeshift therapy sessions had become my one source to vent my frustration at anything that bothered me; be it my family, friends, or even the world in general.

"I don't really know where to start," I said.

"Well…" Rajan leaned back in his chair. "Why don't we start with the day after your last visit?"

"Everything was fine then," I said. "I was fairly sure where I was. Who I wanted to be…"

"What changed that?"

"The ballet…"

"I remember you mentioning that," Rajan said. "Was it not enjoyable?"

I tapped my fingers on my knees. "The actual ballet was fun," I said. "I really enjoyed it. And I enjoyed being alone with Tawny."

"Tawny's another girl your age?" Rajan asked, as he jotted in his notebook.

"Yes," I said, watching him write. I'd grown used to him keeping a loose database of my friends and family. He usually brought them up in our discussions at later dates. "I don't think I've ever mentioned her before," I added as a final note to end the silence.

"Are you two close?"

"Closer than I am with Tiffany at the moment," I said, looking back outside.

Rajan took a moment to flip through his notes. "Ah! The girlfriend," he finally said. "Did you two have a fight?"

"I haven't spoken to her since I gave her a Christmas present on the last day of school," I said.

"What did you get her?"

"A silver necklace," I said. I held my fingers up to my neckline. "It had a little T on it…"

"Did she get you anything?"

"She got me a charm bracelet," I said, smiling a little as I reflected on the gift. "She said we could add things to it over time."

"What happened after that?"

"I got on the bus and went home," I said.

Rajan sat quietly for a moment. I continued to stare out the window. The entire sky looked overcast and completely dismal. A light snow swirled around the parking lot. Leafless trees scraped at each other as they blew in the wind. Everything outside looked lifeless. There weren't even any cars passing by on the street.

"I was looking for a little more than that," Rajan finally said.

I let a long breath pass over my lips. "Well I don't know what else to tell you."

Rajan flipped his notes around for a long moment. "Have you talked to Nathan lately?" he finally asked.

"I stayed over at his house before Christmas," I said.

"Your parents were okay with this?"

"My mom was," I said. "Tom didn't come back home until later that day."

"How are they getting along?"

"Fine," I said. "In fact, they seem to be better than ever."

"How are you getting along with Tom?"

"That seems to be fine too," I mumbled.

Rajan scribbled for a bit. "I'm glad to hear that." A moment of silence passed between us. "Did anything happen at Nathan's house?" he asked a moment later.

"No!" I said, a bit defensively. I turned to see Rajan's reaction, but there didn't seem to be one. "We didn't do anything improper, if that's what you're asking."

"I'm just asking if anything happened," Rajan said calmly. "Positive, or negative."

I studied Rajan for a moment. He sat with his legs crossed, comfortably sunken into his chair. His face looked generally neutral, but definitely expectant of an answer. I cowered from his stare, and pushed myself off of the couch. For a moment I thought about pacing back and forth in front of the couch, but soon decided to take a seat in the matching chair. My body sank into the leather.

"You can tell me anything," Rajan said, still eyeing me. "I promise it won't leave this room."

"I…" My eyes focused on the carpet beneath my sneakers. "I kind of… had this… emotional breakdown."

"Like the one you had this past summer?" Rajan asked.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Only this time I didn't tune out. I… I actually cried. And I didn't know why I cried, but I kept crying. I didn't even know if I was upset, or tired, or…" I threw my hands in the air. "I don't know. It was just…" My hands dropped back to my thighs. "I don't know."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Bailey," Rajan said. "It's quite common to have emotional responses in persons who have hormonal imbalances."

"That just doesn't sound right… When you say it like that," I said.

"I'm sorry," Rajan said. "I didn't mean that to have any negative connotations."

I drew in a long steady breath, and then slowly released it. Any will I had to start an argument, or fight over anything the last few days, had been, if nothing else, non-existent. "I'm not upset about it," I finally said. "It just sounded weird."

"Let's just move on from it," Rajan said calmly. "What happened after you left Nathan's house?"

"I went home and had a long talk with Tom," I suddenly blurted out.

Rajan flipped a few pages back in his notes. "How did that go?"

"It… was pretty draining," I said. "I still don't really know if I can trust him."

"Because of his outburst on Thanksgiving?" Rajan asked.

"It's more than that," I said. "I just don't know if he's the right person to be my stepfather."

Rajan jotted a few things down. "I can suggest a family counselor, if you think --"

"No!" I said, cutting him off. "I don't… no."

"Okay," Rajan said. "So none of this…" He paused for a moment. "You said everything changed because of the ballet. Do you want to talk about that?"

I slowly shook my head in silence. "It was great," I mumbled.

"What was great?" Rajan asked.

"The ballet. The entire afternoon," I said. "Everything was great." I paused for a moment as I recounted the amazing performance. My mind wandered to Tawny in all of her beauty and poise. "I had a lot of fun with her."

"What changed that?" Rajan asked quietly.

"Vince," I said, through clenched teeth.

"Vince was with you?" Rajan asked, as he flipped back through his notes.

"No," I said. "He was with her."

"I'm not following," Rajan muttered.

"Tiffany," I said. "Vince. They were together." My eyes came up to meet Rajan's eyes. They were filled with as much confusion as my mind seemed to be at the moment. "She was supposed to be in Iowa. At her uncle's ranch." I turned to look at his desk. "There was a horse…"

"Okay," Rajan said. "Slow down for a minute. Where did you see these two?"

"At Starbucks," I said. "We stopped to get hot chocolate. I was listening to Tawny talk about ballet and gymnastics…" A smile spread across my face, but quickly diminished. "And they just walked in."

"Aren't they friends?" Rajan asked.

"Oh… they were a lot more than friends that day," I said, looking back at Rajan. "He had his hand in the back pocket of her jeans. The jeans that she modeled…" I quickly recollected our modeling gig at 'Tweens. "Well that doesn't matter. But what did matter was that they were kissing."

"Vince and Tiffany?"

I nodded thoughtfully. "Kissing," I said again slowly. "Right in front of us."

"They saw you?" Rajan asked.

"No," I said. "And I couldn't do anything." I thrust myself up out of the chair. "I wanted to confront them. I wanted to tell them off." I caught my own voice rising, and I quickly eased back onto the edge of the chair. "But I couldn't…"

"Why not?"

"I was dressed like a girl," I said quietly. "Tawny's parents were there." I sighed. "It just would have seemed strange confronting my girlfriend like that."

"Is she aware that you know?" Rajan asked.

"I don't even care," I said quietly.

"I think you do," Rajan said. "It's obviously upsetting you, and I'm afraid that's not healthy physically, or emotionally." He leaned forward a bit. "Why don't you talk to her?"

"And say what?" I asked, looking up at him with tearful eyes. "What do I say?"

"That…" Rajan took a deep breath. "That's really up to you. But I don't think you'll be able to get over any of it without some sort of closure."

My eyes dropped back to the floor. "I don't even know where to begin," I said. "Or what to say. Everything has been a blur since then."

"Why don't we start with that evening?" Rajan asked. "After you found out. Let's walk through it together."

I eased back in the large chair. Rajan uncrossed his legs, and then crossed them the opposite way. He shifted once, and clicked his pen. My eyes followed his hand, still holding the pen, as he rested it on the arm of the chair. Then my eyes fell to my own hands, resting in my lap. My pouty lips parted with a sigh, and I started to recall the last couple of weeks.

Twas the night before Christmas, and on one side of my home, my parents were drinking eggnog, which left me alone. My brother was downstairs. He went down after we ate. I was in my bedroom; not feeling so great. Okay… So it didn't exactly all rhyme like that, but that would have taken the edge off. The truth is that I was alone. I felt alone.

Tawny's parents had dropped me off right at dusk. Her embrace lingered with me for a minute after she left. I stood for a good two minutes staring at the steps leading to my front door. A large part of me wanted to stay out in the cold; feeling on the outside what I felt on the inside. I didn't want to be some part of a big happy family dinner right now, but I knew if I blew it off, I'd never hear the end of it. Even if I wanted to be left alone, I wouldn't be if I took that approach.

So I went in. I ate in the same dress I wore to the ballet. In fact, I still had it on when I pulled Tawny's gift onto my lap. I managed to fake it through dinner. My mother pushed me to talk about the ballet, and so I did. Everything I said and did I tried hard to make it sound like everything was alright. Inside I was crying; wanting to escape the moment at every turn.

Now the house had grown quiet. Every so often I would hear my mother giggling, and Tom talking softly. I kicked off my wine colored shoes, and curled my nylon-clad legs underneath me on the bed. It actually felt good to take those shoes off after the long day. Tawny's present had the weight and shape of a book, but it seemed to have hard edges and corners. I collapsed back on my pillow and pulled the gift up onto my stomach.

The wrapping paper looked pretty. There were hundreds of embossed white snowflakes strewn across a light blue background. A bouncy, stringy bow brightened it all up with silvery luminescence. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was only ten o'clock. It wasn't Christmas yet. Turning back to the present, I decided to open it anyway. Maybe it would end the night on a bright note.

I pulled my knees up, planting my feet firmly on the bed. The skirt of my dress fell slightly down my thighs. What little bit of cool air left in my room, managed to find its way onto the freshly exposed spots on my white tights. I flicked the edge of the wrapping paper with one ruby red fingernail. Then I smiled, thinking of Tawny going the distance with her own nails that afternoon. I was starting to really grow fond of her.

I reached up and carefully slid the bow over the corner of the package. Then I pulled it down and off on the bottom. Now just a pretty blue paper with snowflakes, the package begged to be torn away. So I did it justice. I quickly pulled at a gap in the taped edge. The paper seemed stiff, but ripped quite easily. In a matter of seconds I had exposed the present beneath. It was a picture frame.

Instantly I took notice of the meticulously handwritten note taped to the frame. I figured Tawny had somehow captured a picture of me, or something, and wrote a note to explain it. I reached over quickly and turned my bedside lamp on. Then I pulled the whole gift closer and started to read her letter. I imagined it was important, as she clearly took the time to write it out perfectly. It read:

Dearest Bailey,

Not a lot can be said on such a small space,
but I will try my best to explain my gift to you.
When I learned of our project in art class,
I jumped at the opportunity to have you as my partner.
I wanted to draw you how I see you. Every time I look
across the table at you, or from a distance, I've
wanted to capture your true beauty. Unfortunately,
the art teacher did not share my artistic
interpretation of the school project. So I took it
upon myself to draw another portrait, at home, in my
spare time. This is the result. I hope you can
understand that it's simply how I view you.
I care about you deeply, and hope this will not offend.
You're a magnificent person, and one of my best friends.

Sincerely,
Tawny

Confusion gripped me for a split second, as my eyes traced over her cutely artistic cursive writing. Then I suddenly realized which project she was referring to. It was the only one where she was my partner; the pencil shading portrait. I carefully pulled the note off of the frame. As I looked at the portrait underneath, I suddenly found it harder to breathe. I'm sure I let out an audible gasp in the still room.

True to her word, Tawny had drawn a completely different picture than the finished one I saw in art class. The one in class had been based on an older picture of myself. It was when I had shorter hair. I looked more boyish in that version. This new picture showed me in a completely different light; a feminine light. My face looked softer; my hair longer.

Tawny went into magnificent detail. I had no idea where she got the inspiration for it, other than simply seeing me every day in class. At no point in the past did I ever give her a newer picture of myself. The only possible picture she could have used would have been one that Kate took over the summer. Only, Kate went to great lengths to make me appear older for those mock modeling pictures. Tawny had drawn me in a more youthful form.

I pulled the framed picture closer. My eyes danced over each and every pencil line. Subconsciously I had let my fingers glide over the curves beneath the glass. What Tawny saw in me -- what she had captured in this portrait -- it was what I was starting to see in myself. Somehow she saw it all before me, and I had simply been in denial about it. I was turning into a girl, while still clinging desperately to my male identity.

"Bailey?" My door creaked open slightly, letting a sliver of light cascade across my body. "Oh, I didn't mean to disturb you," my mother said from the hallway.

"No," I said. "It's okay."

"What's that?" my mother asked, now opening the door a bit more.

"A gift," I said. "From Tawny."

"May I see?"

I slid my legs over the side of the bed, and held the gift out. My mother slinked into my room and carefully took it from me. She studied it for a minute. Then she glanced up at me, and back down at the picture. For what seemed like an eternity, she thoughtfully looked over the portrait.

"She spent a lot of time on this," my mother said.

"I know," I replied. "I kind of wish I'd put more thought into her present."

"Oh…" My mother seemed absorbed in the portrait. "You got her a nice gift." She looked up at me. "From the looks of this, it's one she'll probably use quite a bit."

"I don't know…" I said, pushing myself off of the bed and making my way to the dresser. "There was a letter, but it's personal."

"Well, I don't want to intrude," my mother said. "This is nice though."

I watched her thoughtfully make a spot on my beside table for the portrait. "She said that's how she sees me," I suddenly found myself saying. "A girl…" I turned back to my dresser and pretended to search for something inside one of the drawers.

My mother stood silently for a moment, but then strolled over behind me. "You know, honey," she said, as I felt her hands rest upon my shoulders. "Maybe it's not so much about her seeing you as a certain gender, but rather her way of portraying the potential she sees in you as a person."

"You've been drinking with Tom," I said, pulling myself away from her.

"Bailey…"

"Seriously… Look around," I said, gesturing to the four corners of my room. "I'm turning into a girl."

My mother put her hands on her hips. "Is that so bad?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, moving back to my bed. "I don't know what's good, or what's bad."

My mother watched me for a moment. The room grew deathly silent. "I can't…" She strolled over to my desk, and eased into my chair. "I know it probably doesn't seem like it, or hasn't seemed like it in the past." Her hands dropped into her lap. "We can't make you choose."

"That's not what I want to hear right now," I said, falling back onto my bed.

"What do you want to hear?" she asked. "I can't read your mind, honey."

"I don't know," I said. "I've been through all the medical pros and cons. And the social junk, and whatnot. The peer pressure. The bullies. I've even discovered who my true friends are through it all." I thought of Tiffany's betrayal, and suddenly drew in a huge breath, and slowly let it out. "I think I might need a break from it. To see if it's really what I want, or if I'll even miss it."

"Miss what?" my mother asked. "You want to stop seeing Rajan?"

"No," I said. "I think he's actually helping." I pushed myself up to where I was looking at her eye-to-eye. "I think I need a break from dressing… From everything girly."

"That's completely understandable," my mother said. "Do you want me to take it all away from you?"

My eyes slowly trailed around my bedroom. "I think that's going to take some doing," I said, with a halfhearted laugh.

"It's perfectly manageable," my mother said, "and reasonable." She sat up straighter in the chair. "If, and only if, it's what you really want."

I slowly nodded toward my mother. "It's what I want," I said. "At least for now."

"Did you want to start tonight?" she asked, with a pleasant smile.

My head shook feverishly. "Too tired."

"Okay," she said with a slight chuckle. "Why don't you sleep on it?" She rose to her feet, taking a slight pause to steady herself. "If you feel the same tomorrow, then after Christmas, I'll help you put everything away."

"Thanks mom," I said, sheepishly.

"I'll let you get some sleep," she said, stooping over to kiss me on the top of my head. "Goodnight honey."

"Goodnight," I said, as I watched her walk to my door.

She turned back for a moment. "Please at least hang the dress up before you fall asleep though," she said, as she closed the door behind her.

"And did you do that?"

My eyes suddenly opened to dull gray carpet. Light poured in them; slightly burning, as though I'd awakened from a nap. The air around me felt stiff. Bits of sleet hit the windows behind me, exploding in my ears like the steady ticking of a miniature drum. Rajan sat across from me. He looked at me with intrigue.

"Do what?" I finally asked.

"Did you put away your feminine attire and all?" Rajan asked, his Indian dialect returning, now that I'd awakened a bit from my haze.

My feet shuffled around on the floor below me. "I did," I said. "In a way, I did."

"Care to elaborate?" Rajan asked.

Twas the day after Christmas. Okay. Really it was. The tree still stood, tucked away in the corner, but retaining all its sparkling decoration. A fire crackled in the fireplace, casting shadows on the walls that flickered away. I could still smell peppermint candles burning, as they mingled with that fake tree smell my mother insisted spraying onto the tree. The beautifully wrapped presents, which once fell beneath the tree, had all been ravished; the remnants of wrapping paper now a day removed.

I felt a tinge of remorse in what my mother and I were doing. Little more than a day had gone by, and here I sat, putting newly bought feminine attire in boxes. My mother seemed fine with it, but I knew she held at least some disappointment in her heart. I had already thought about changing my mind three times in the last hour, but her encouragement helped me stick to my guns. We were going to give this a decent try. I was going to try to live solely as a boy for a while.

Nathan had stopped by earlier in the day. He didn't stay long, as he had plans with Justin, but I at least got to talk to him for a few minutes. I didn't tell him about Tiffany. In fact, I hadn't told anyone about what she had done to me. Nor was I even sure she had done what I thought she had done to me. I did, however, explain to Nathan what my mother and I were doing. He didn't even blink when I told him.

"I think that's the last of it," my mother said, as she situated things in another box.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" I asked, as I curled back into my favorite armchair.

"Honey…" My mother looked up at me, brushing hair away from her face. "I've long given up on knowing what's right in situations like these." She gave me a half-smile. "Does it feel right to you?"

I sat for a moment, letting my steel blue eyes dance over the feminine things I'd acquired. One box alone had been filled with pairs of ballet flats, boots, girls' sneakers and dress shoes. My eyes focused on a pair of four inch heels sitting on the top. They were the tallest heels I had, and I barely knew how to walk in them. I suddenly recalled the fact that I could actually walk in them if I had to in a life or death situation. This thought forced my eyes away from that particular box.

They landed on another box, filled with plastic bags, which in turn were filled with clothes. Panties, socks, leggings, pantyhose, and even bras, were just the icing on the proverbial cake in this box. Below them, I knew I had bags filled with dresses, skirts, tops and even pairs of girls' jeans. Most of my nicer attire had been hung in my mother's closet in storage bags. I looked back to my mother, as she placed a box full of nail polish and other beauty supplies in the top of a larger box.

She looked up when she saw me looking at her. "These will only last so long," she said. "But I'm keeping them in case you change your mind."

"This feels right," I slowly said.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I need to clear my head of it all."

"Well…" She slid a top over one of the boxes. "If you change your mind, none of it will be far." As the lid clicked onto the box, she looked up at me again. "I just don't want you to think it's being taken away from you."

"No… I know," I said. "I just think it would be better this way." I gave her a warm smile. "Out of sight, out of mind."

"I do ask one thing though," my mother said.

"What's that?"

She took a deep breath, as she slid on another box top. "If you do change your mind, please let me know," she said. "I don't want you to think you have to sneak around, dressing in private." She looked back up again. "I'm serious. If you're just wanting to put a dress on after school, or are doing it to goof around with your friends. Even if you simply want to paint your nails again. Let me know how you feel." She gave me a pleasant smile. "It's not healthy to hide it."

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll tell you." I took one quick look around. "But I don't think I'll be changing my mind any time soon."

"So how have you been coping with your decision?" Rajan asked, his voice shattering my thoughts once more.

"It was actually hard at first," I said, focusing again on the doctor across the office.

"Care to elaborate?" Rajan asked.

"Well…" I fidgeted with my hands again. "It's a little embarrassing."

Rajan leaned forward, garnering my attention. "I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that makes you feel uncomfortable," he said.

"I wouldn't say uncomfortable," I said. "It's more like… relearning everything."

"How so?"

My eyes shot up to meet his, noting the strong sense of encouragement and understanding in them. "Like for instance," I found myself blurting out. "I've worn panties for months now, and it's like I keep going to look for them in my drawer. It's weird, but it seems like they're missing. Or… things are missing from my life somehow." I chuckled a bit at the thought. "I'm still not used to reaching in and grabbing a pair of boys' underwear."

"I can see how that would take some getting used to," Rajan said. "Do you get that same feeling with other pieces of attire, or other objects?"

"Sometimes," I said. "It comes and goes." I looked down at my attire. "I'm actually pretty used to wearing the other stuff most of the time."

"Do you feel an attachment to feminine attire, or rather more specifically, in your case, to female undergarments?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't think I'm attached to them," I said. "I really haven't missed them all that much, except for that weird feeling from time to time."

Rajan leaned back in his chair, and scribbled in his notepad. "That feeling you're experiencing, could simply be from having it removed so suddenly," he said. "Like getting used to initially wearing female undergarments daily, you probably need time to adjust to wearing something different."

I watched for a moment, as Rajan continued to write in his notepad. Inwardly, I laughed at his use of the word undergarments. He made it sound so professional and generic. Though what he said, actually seemed to explain what I had been dealing with. Maybe I simply needed more time to adjust, and not just to the absence of panties, but to everything else in my life. It really did feel like things had come to a grinding halt for me. Especially with a few of my closer relationships.

"Do you think this change was brought about by what happened with Tiffany?" Rajan asked.

"What?!" I looked at him as if he'd entered the room unannounced.

"Are you giving up on your feminine side for Tiffany?"

"No," I quickly responded. "I haven't even talked to her."

"Not even on some subconscious level?" Rajan prodded.

I buried my face into the palms of my hands. "I…" I took a deep breath. "That might be a small part of it," I finally said. "But I'm not even sure it is."

"Don't you think it would be conducive so see where you sit with her?" Rajan asked.

"Con-what?" I peeked out over my fingertips.

Rajan cleared his throat. "Um… advantageous… helpful," he said.

My hands dropped onto the arms of the leather chair. "I really don't want to talk to her," I said.

"You can't avoid her forever," Rajan said, with an understanding smile.

"But she lied to me…"

"Maybe it's not what you think," Rajan said. "Maybe you didn't even see what you thought you saw."

"What if it's worse than what I saw?" I asked.

Rajan leaned forward, uncrossing his legs and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He gave me a studious look for a moment, which turned into a pleasant smile. "Could I encourage you to at least talk it out with her?" he asked. "It might go a long way into helping you out with your own path."

I stared down Rajan. For the longest while I felt numb, simply looking at him with an expressionless face. He didn't budge from his position. We must have sat looking at each other for a good minute, before the thick silence in the room was cut by a light knocking on his door. As if on queue, we both turned to look in the direction of the knocking.

"Enter," Rajan said loudly, making me flinch.

The door whisked open, scratching at the gray carpet beneath it. In walked the older, dowdy looking assistant who mostly handled appointments at the front desk. She glanced at me, and then over to Rajan. The look on her face begged the question, "Is this a bad time?" However, Rajan waved her over to him anyway.

"Mister Caldwell is more than half an hour early, as usual," she said, as she approached. Rajan nodded, as she handed him a clipboard. "And Doctor Brooks needs your signature for approval here," she said, pointing to something on the clipboard.

"Oh, that reminds me," Rajan said, as he looked over the paper in front of him. "I won't be here for our next appointment, Bailey." He glanced up for a moment. "I'm going on vacation, but Doctor Brooks will be here to answer any questions, and Jennifer will be here to administer your monthly shot." He quickly signed the paper, and thoughtfully waved the receptionist away.

"So I'll be talking to one of them?" I asked.

"Well probably not Doctor Brooks. Not unless you have questions about your medication," Rajan said. "That's why I'm having an extended session with you today." He watched me for a moment. "If there is an emergency, and you need to contact me, the receptionist can help you get in contact with me. But Doctor Brooks is not a licensed psychiatrist, so he won't be meeting you for therapy."

"What does he do?" I asked. "I mean, I know he's here, but I never see him."

Rajan chuckled. "Doctor Brooks is our general practitioner," he said. "There is actually another office on the other side of this building."

"I didn't know that," I said, dumbfounded.

Rajan smiled. "I always have my patients come to this side," he said. "It's easier that way, and they don't run the risk of getting sick while waiting in the other waiting room."

"Do you have a lot of patients?" I asked, becoming a bit nosey.

"I wouldn't say a lot," Rajan said, as he shifted in his chair. "I'm mainly a psychiatrist. So I see various types of people. However, I tend to focus on gender dysphoria cases, and sometimes administer hormone therapy." He gestured towards me. "As in your case."

"Speaking of which," I said. "I've been feeling tired ever since we started the new medication." I watched Rajan as he clicked his pen and began scribbling on his notepad. "The exercise has helped, but I just feel drained when I get home sometimes."

"I'll make a note of it," Rajan said. "We might have to make some changes when I get back." He looked up at me thoughtfully. "Are there any other side effects you've noticed?"

"Just that one," I said, looking down at the carpet.

"No depression?" Rajan asked. "Loss of appetite? Weight gain?"

"No," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I mean, I've been kind of depressed, but that could be because of this whole thing with Tiffany."

"Well…" Rajan sat up straighter. "I again would advise talking to her."

My eyes came up to meet his reassuring smile. I felt my shoulders raising in a shrug all on their own. "I'll think about it," I said. "I have to go back to school anyway tomorrow."

"I always hated going back after the winter break," Rajan said with a chuckle. "Even in college." The smile faded from his lips as he glanced at his watch. "I'm going to wrap up our session here, unless you have anything else you'd like to say."

I shook my head. "Can't think of anything."

Rajan flipped his notepad shut, and moved to the edge of his chair. "I'd like to discuss a few things with your mother before you both leave," he said. "I rarely get a chance to catch her up to speed."

"Okay," I said, moving to stand up.

Rajan reached for my hand. "I will see you in March," he said, as he shook my hand. "Be safe."

"I will," I said, letting his hand slip from mine. "Have a nice vacation."

"Thank you," he said, stepping to hold the door open for me. "I'm luckily going some place warm."

We both kind of chuckled as we came out of his office. Rajan waved my mother in, and I strolled past her to the small waiting area. As the door of Rajan's office shut, I turned to find an empty chair to sit in. Before I could, however, I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder. I spun around, and my eyes met a pair of concerned brown eyes staring back at me.

"Megan?"

"Hi Bailey," Megan said in her quiet Korean demeanor.

"I didn't expect to see you here," I said, reaching out to give her a friendly hug.

"Actually I heard you were here," Megan said, as she pulled back from my embrace. "I wanted to talk to you before…" She appeared even more concerned now. "Well…"

"What is it?" I asked.

Megan's brow furrowed almost as if in despair. "I'm moving," she finally said.

"What?!" I reached out and took both of her hands. "Why? Where?"

"The army talked my father into coming out of retirement," she said. "We're moving back to Texas."

"That's…" I looked at her for a lingering moment. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Megan said solemnly. "I…" She looked down at our hands, still clinging to one another. "I'd like to write to you," she slowly said. "If that's okay?"

"Sure!" I said, trying to be encouraging. "Let me give you my address."

I let go of Megan's hands long enough to scurry over to the receptionist's desk, and ask for a piece of paper. Then I quickly jotted my address down and came back to her. I held it up to her quietly.

"Does Tawny know?" I found myself asking out of nowhere.

Megan nodded, taking the piece of paper from me. "She knows," she said quietly. "I don't know if she told you, or not, but we're kind of broken up."

I shook my head. "I hadn't heard," I lied, not wanting to bring anymore sadness to the occasion. Megan did enough of that for the both of us.

"Could you…" She looked up with tearful eyes. "Could you tell her I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked.

"She'll know," Megan said. "I have to go." She began to pull away from me.

"Megan," I said quickly.

I waited for Megan to turn before approaching her. She stood there quietly, blinking away what would soon be a waterfall of tears. In the stillness of the tiny waiting room outside of Rajan's office, I looked upon Megan for the last time I would ever see her. Her soft golden skin looked so young and smooth beneath her shiny black hair. The small frame of her body stood so boldly in female attire. I lacked the courage to wear it to school like she did.

A look of confusion started to spread across Megan's face, and I knew I was losing the opportunity to do what I felt necessary. I stepped forward, boldly standing face to face with her. Her eyes rose to meet mine, as if pleading to let her go. Yet I couldn't let her go. Before me technically stood the only boy I had ever kissed. She could put whatever clothing on that she wanted to, but it didn't hide the fact that she had been born a boy.

I knew her secret. I shared her secret. And as Megan and I stared silently at each other in the quiet office, I knew there was one more thing I wanted to share with her. Without another word or another thought, I tilted my head ever so slightly. I felt my hands going up to rest ever so gently on her cheeks. Then I found her lips with mine. It felt so right for the moment; a proper way to say goodbye.

Her lips moved against mine. They felt so soft. Our eyes shut. I felt her arms move around my waist in a soft embrace. We shared one last thing that day. It was something we shared before on Halloween night, and something I'd been longing to experience one more time. I never had the reason or will to do it until now. Megan and I would never meet again, and I would never have another chance.

It ended so suddenly. Nothing interrupted our sweet kiss goodbye, but neither of us wanted it to be anything more. I could sense that she shared in my curiosity and sentiment. Megan forced a smile with tears rolling down her cheek. She placed a hand on my chest, and with a nod, pushed away from me. Still looking at me as she backed way, she raised the same hand in a wave.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

"Goodbye," she said, before turning to exit.

I stood for a long moment in silence. Another person had walked out of my life. Be it bad timing, or a winter curse, I couldn't stand the feeling any longer. It felt like everyone I cared about was leaving me. I wasn't even sure if I could hold on to what was left. My body felt like a statue; numb and unwilling to move. It took my mother to snap me out of it, with her promise to get something to eat on the way home. Home sounded awfully good to me now.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 5

In all honesty, winter wasn't that bad. I mean, sure, if you liked sitting on the ice-cold vinyl seat of a school bus - knowing full well the bus driver neglected to turn up the heat until five minutes before it came down your street - then winter really wasn't all that bad. The frigid cold, the snow drenching the lower regions of your jeans, or the fact that every metal thing you touched lit you up like a neon sign; all were enjoyable to a certain degree. Right?

Sure they were. And nothing, absolutely nothing, could be better than riding back to school after Christmas break. Yes, it was still called Christmas break when I went to school. That wonderful holiday seemed to be the one magical bright spot in all of winter. Except for this year, when I received the worst Christmas gift of all time. I got to watch my girlfriend make out in front of me with another guy that was supposedly gay. To top it all off, I was riding to the one locality where I couldn't possibly avoid either one of them; school.

That moment of arrival became increasingly closer. After nearly a half hour later the bus had made it's way into the circle drive of our school. The ride had been way too fast in my mind. I stared briefly at the looming gray building across the walkway. Though I'd never noticed it much before, the building looked as dismal as a prison. Surely they had a discussion about sprucing it up with a little color. It looked absurdly boring as it sat; especially now with the snow and everything around it looking dead.

As I made a move for the aisle, a few eighth grade boys, who had been sitting behind me, shook their head at me as they passed. Not really wanting to leave anyway, I took the hint, and slowly knelt back in my seat; waiting for everyone to pass. I wish I could've disappeared into the bus seat itself. Reluctantly, after the last kid passed me, I followed down the aisle. The slow walk to the building felt like a walk to the electric chair.

I half expected to be greeted by one of my friends at the front door. Even a chance meeting at my locker would have been something. However, I didn't see a single one of them; not Tawny, Tiffany, or even Tracy. I knew I would never see Megan or Vanessa again. Not unless by some miracle they both moved back to the state. And Danielle had been out of the picture for months. For all intents and purposes, I felt extremely alone that cold winter morning.

Everything seemed off. My locker hadn't changed, but I had a new class schedule. Speech class went away, just as Megan had gone away with it. I had no reason to doubt the things Tawny had told me about Megan. Yet, I would still miss her; that cute sense of shyness, and that adorable hint of Korean to her accent. I now had keyboarding class in that block for the semester. What fun; sitting and typing gibberish in silence for nearly an hour each day. At least it was a life skill, and further bolstered my view of the school being like a prison.

The class I would miss the most was art; swapped out for a semester of gym class. It had been absolutely wonderful to express my creativity, all while talking to Tawny and Tiffany. Then it dawned on me; how at the moment I wanted nothing to do with Tiffany. Tawny, perhaps, but I had no desire to even speak to Tiffany after what she had done; after what I had seen. I slammed my locker shut as I thought about the scene at Starbucks.

"Whoa! Take it easy on the lockers."

I spun around to meet a set of turquoise eyes sitting beneath short brunette hair. The girl's heart-shaped face appeared riddled with small features. She almost looked like a cherub with such small childish features. Even her ears were small. Everything she wore screamed preppy, and I knew it had to come from one source. I knew, because I had my very first job at her family's store.

"Hi Jillian," I said, immediately recognizing her. "I never see you walk this way."

Jillian Wilcox tilted her head to the side. Her neatly groomed eyebrows furrowed, as if she were figuring out some elusive equation in her head. I watched as her bottom lip slowly moved to the side. Then her lips parted, as if she were about to say something, but quickly snapped shut. She looked me over for a moment longer.

"Do I know you?" Jillian finally inquired.

My eyes slowly grew bigger. I felt more awake now than I had ever felt in my entire life. My shoulders dropped. A lump formed in my throat. The books in my hand shifted to my other arm, as if it were a subconscious message for me to shift myself into another gear and get the hell out of there. Jillian's face contorted into one of discovery and amusement, as if in slow motion.

"Oh… my… gosh," Jillian finally said. Then her mouth simply hung open as she stared. She looked me over a second time. "You…"

I realized all too quickly my fatal flaw. Jillian, although she had seen me dressed as a girl, knew absolutely nothing about my real gender. Here I had confused her with one of my inner circle. She was an outsider. From a simple affable greeting, Jillian Wilcox now knew my deepest secret. I wanted to reopen my locker and crawl inside of it to die.

"Are you serious?!" Jillian blurted out.

Kids nearby were starting to slow down their walks to classrooms. I felt completely on display out here in the hallway. It felt like it did when I modeled at Jillian's store, in the window, except now she knew. Now Jillian could destroy everything about me with a few simple words. I looked at her with pleading eyes.

Jillian opened her mouth again to talk, but again shut it quickly. She took a step back, and gave me an unsure look. After a quick glance around the hallway, she quickly composed herself. "'Tweens?" Jillian asked.

I nodded.

"And the pool party?"

I continued to nod.

"That explains a lot…"

Jillian then slowly nodded, as if convincing herself. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her backpack. I stepped forward, making her wince backwards.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to lie to you."

"No," Jillian said. "But see, you did mean to."

"Well if you hadn't blackmailed us," I said quietly. The halls were now thinning out.

"Maybe I should do it again," Jillian said, now smirking.

I sighed. "Don't be like that."

"I hardly think you have a say in how I react." Jillian said, then leaned in closer. "Do you get off on it?"

"What?! No!"

"Okay. Look," Jillian said, leaning back out. "I really don't care." She shifted nervously, a look of disgust, cobbled with disappointment, painted all over her face. "I need to get to class."

"Jillian," I said, as she attempted to brush past me.

"What?" she asked, without turning.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Jillian turned her head. "Whatever. I need to go."

My body slumped, and I sighed. The bell rang throughout the hall, signaling two minutes left to get to class. Jillian strolled away, now knowing my secret. I watched her for a few seconds, and then quickly made my way to my own class.

"Great," I mumbled to myself. "This semester is starting off just great."

There were a few things that had not changed for the semester. One of the worst of them being I still had to sit through pre-algebra first hour. The bell rang a few seconds after I had slid into my seat. My mind couldn't budge from what had just occurred. I hadn't run into Tiffany yet today, but I had a feeling running into Jillian was worse. How long could I hold on to this secret of mine?

A sense of despair washed over me. While I wrestled with the problems in my life, along with the ones being written on the chalkboard, my spirits sank a bit deeper. I was beginning to think some form of damage control was in order. An increasing number of people were finding out about my secret, and it wasn't even Tiffany throwing it out there anymore.

Then it hit me. As I sat there and solved for x, I realized the solution had been given to me by Doctor Dinesh. I needed to talk to people. Not only did I need to talk to Tiffany, but I needed to make sure I wasn't making any enemies. Friends were what I needed now. My secret might come out eventually, but I could prolong it as long as I didn't make anyone angry enough to spill it. Maybe with enough people on my side, it wouldn't hurt as much when I did crash and burn. With a new goal in mind, I began to plot my course of action.

"Where have you been?"

I looked up from my locker to see Tawny's electric green eyes in all of their worried glory. "I… just had family stuff to do," I lied. The truth was, I hadn't seen much of anyone but my brother, and a few visits with Nathan, over the break. My parents were mostly at work the whole time. I just didn't want to deal with any of my problems.

"Well I've been worried about you," Tawny said. "How are you doing?"

"I've been fine," I lied again, looking back into my locker for that elusive thing I didn't need.

"Bailey…"

I glanced back at Tawny. Her new expression was one mixed with worry and impatience. "I don't know," I said, turning to face her. "I really haven't…" I watched her get more impatient, and tilt her head to the side. "I haven't even talked to her," I finished, going back to looking in my locker.

"Well I know that," Tawny said, sliding up to the locker next to me. "She's been bugging the hell out of me." She slipped into a mock Tiffany voice. "How's Bailey? I can't reach him. Have you talked to him at all? How was the ballet?"

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, cutting her off.

"I don't know," Tawny said, shaking her head. She looked about as lost and confused as I did. "I've been handling her like a secretary the past two weeks, trying not to get in the middle of it. But… well… I'm in the middle of it."

"Tawny…"

"What?"

"I had a really nice time with you," I said quietly.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "Until… well, you know."

"No," I said, finding her eyes. "I had a nice time… with you." I searched her eyes for understanding. "I wasn't even thinking about Tiffany, until… well, you know."

Tawny stood up straight. "What are you saying?"

"I don't even know anymore," I said, following it with a sigh. "Maybe I'm saying that this might not be the worst thing to happen." After closing my locker, I started toward my next class.

"Wait a sec," Tawny said, catching up with me. "Are you saying you're giving up on Tiff?"

"Well… what if this happened for a reason?" I asked. "I mean, Megan and Vanessa moved away, and then this." I stopped and faced Tawny. "Things are just… shifting."

Tawny blinked in silence for a moment. "It's like you're in my head," she finally said. Then she quickly shook her head. "No." She shifted her bag. "You need to talk to Tiffany. Sort this out. If there's even a hint of feeling left between you two… You need to find it." She quickly took off down the hallway before I could say another word.

An impromptu bump on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I glanced at the clock above the lockers, and took off toward my next class. Now I was more confused than ever. I felt like I'd sailed my ship into the wrong dock.

"I thought you'd fallen off the face of the planet," Tracy said, as I slid into the chair next to her.

"I've just been busy," I said, taking out my science book.

"You should've gone ice skating with us," Tracy said. "We all had a blast."

"When did you go ice skating?"

"Christmas Eve," Tracy said. "Everyone was there. Except you, Megan and Tawny."

"Wait…" I looked at Tracy puzzled. "Tiffany was there? I thought she was in Iowa."

"Oh, her plans got canceled at the last minute," Tracy said. "Her aunt came down with the flu. Tiff was home all Christmas break. She's really wanted to see you since Christmas Eve though."

"Well she didn't tell you Tawny and I went to the ballet?" I asked, making sure my voice was more sustained.

Tracy shook her head, now looking as puzzled as I'm sure I did earlier. The warning bell rang out, causing a shuffling of chairs in the room. Mister Jackson strolled into the room, slapping a stack of papers down on his desk. He stood like a statue, staring at the clock. I had one minute to ask Tracy the most important question on my mind.

"Was Vince there?"

Tracy squinted her eyes, as if in deep thought, and then quickly nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He was skating with Tiffany most of the time." She smiled at me. "We were all paired up, and they were kind of stuck with each other."

"I see…"

I appeared busy now. As the tardy bell rang out, I acted as if my biology book was a long lost friend. I flipped it open to where I thought we would be picking up from last semester. From the corner of my eye, I could see Tracy looking me over. Now locked into a class, however, she couldn't talk to me; unless she wanted to be in trouble.

The period went so slow. All I could think about now was Vince skating with Tiffany. I pictured them holding hands, embracing, sharing a laugh. They probably grew close that day; just as they appeared close in the coffee shop. Thinking about it made my blood boil. I subconsciously grinded my teeth, as I jotted down the boring notes of Mister Jackson's lecture.

Right now, I didn't give a damn about school. Friends were even starting to become an issue with me. I'd already gathered enough information to know that some of them had no clue. Tracy, along with her boyfriend Jason, probably thought it was a harmless gesture for Vince to skate with Tiffany. I don't think they saw the aftermath at all.

Tawny had been with me. So that ruled her out. Now I began the slow process of getting the story out of everyone, and finding out who knew what, and when they knew it. I wasn't even sure Kate knew. Kate, Tiffany's older sister, had been in the bathroom when Vince and Tiffany were acting all lovey-dovey. Unless they carried that with them the rest of the night, it might even be a secret to Kate.

"So I'll see you at lunch?"

I looked over at Tracy. The rest of the students were moving; abandoning their chairs. As I glanced up at the clock, I realized the class had ended. I'd been so self-absorbed thinking about Tiffany, that I hadn't even heard the bell ring. Looking down at my paper, I realized I'd missed some of the notes as well. I looked back to Tracy.

"Sure," I said, forcing a smile. "I might need your notes too."

Tracy looked down at my paper. She let out a slight giggle. "Yeah… I'll bring them," she said. "See ya!"

"Later," I said, watching her bounce from the room.

For the next two hours or so, my small little life seemed somewhat unaltered. English, and Social Studies went about as fast as English and Social Studies classes could go. Since both classes were on the other side of the building, and I had no friends in either, I hadn't had the pleasure of running into anyone I knew in the hallways. I rarely went back to my locker until fifth period.

I knew that once that bell rang, though, I would be trying to navigate the trickiest part of my young romantic life. Like a ship hoisting the wrong colors, I was off to sail my way through uncharted territory. I didn't know what to say. I hardly knew what to think. The bell would ring in less than a minute, and my heart beat faster with each second that ticked away. What worried me the most is what I would say to that impending question.

"Where have you been, Bailey?"

Tiffany's voice seemed like an ancient memory. A sound I once knew and trusted. In my heart, and in my mind, it felt like there was ruin where our friendship used to lie. I felt nothing could be salvaged, or rebuilt. Nothing Tiffany could say, or do, could get that image of her and Vince out of my head. Nothing.

I grabbed my lunch bag from the locker. My chest rose and fell with a steady breath. I closed the locker, and slowly turned to face her; to face the girl who tore my heart… As soon as I laid eyes upon her, my mouth dropped. A lump quickly leapt to my throat, and my heart nearly collapsed; bringing it with me.

"Tiffany!?"

Tiffany's eyebrows shot up in worry. She shifted nervously where she stood, and shrugged one of her shoulders upward. "Is it that bad?"

My head shook slowly, as if controlled by an apprentice puppeteer. I couldn't peel my eyes away from it. I thought this would be the day that everything changed with Tiffany, but as far as I could see, only one thing had changed. It had changed quite drastically. Suddenly I found myself reevaluating my entire approach to this dreaded conversation. Maybe I didn't know everything I thought I knew.

"When did you get it done?" I asked.

Tiffany reached up to her short locks of hair. "Before Christmas," she said, still a little unsure. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. Where have you been?"

My eyes dropped to meet Tiffany's worry-filled hazel eyes. "Just… busy with family," I stuttered. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to call you."

"Wait a minute," I thought. "Was I really sorry?" This was not at all how I planned for this conversation to go. I needed answers. My mouth opened, but Tiffany's voice filled in the silence first.

"We were kind of busy too, I suppose," Tiffany said. "After school let out, we were supposed to go to my Aunt's, but all my cousins showed up here and surprised us. My aunt had the flu, and her husband stayed behind to take care of the ranch."

I put my index finger up, giving her the universal signal to hold on for a minute. We stood gazing at each other for a long moment. Her hair, once a beautiful long wavy curtain of black radiance, was now cut short, and tussled about like wild grass. Not only that, but it was blonde… very blonde. A lump caught in my throat as I tried to swallow. I took a deep breath, as my heart felt ready to burst.

"You hate it, don't you?" Tiffany asked, now frowning.

"It's just…"

"Too extreme?"

"I wouldn't say that," I said, really not knowing what to say.

"I missed you," Tiffany said, her eyes now smiling with the mixed look on her face.

"Wait," I said. "Before Christmas?"

Tiffany nodded quietly.

Quickly I thought of the best way to frame my new approach to the situation. "I swear I saw you in Starbucks Christmas Eve," I said, straining to chuckle.

Tiffany appeared as if she were thinking for a few seconds. Then smiled, and shook her head. "I think I would've remembered that."

"I swear it was you," I said, now getting anxious. "It looked like you and Vince, and definitely Kate."

"Oh!" Tiffany laughed. "Probably my cousin and her boyfriend. She looks just like me." She stood as if lost in thought for a second. "Come to think of it, her boyfriend kind of looks like Vince from behind."

I slumped against the wall of lockers, as Tiffany giggled away. The whole weight of the situation felt as if it had been pulled from my insides all at once. Like the flesh had been pulled from my bones. It left me weak in the knees, and I was trying desperately to hold back tears welling up inside of me. A long steady breath coursed over my trembling lips.

"It's just…" My voice sounded low and uneasy. "I saw them kiss, and I thought…"

"You thought what?" Tiffany's eyes grew twice their size. "Me and Vince?!" She started giggling again, and then stopped suddenly. "Oh…"

Stepping toward me, she slid up against the lockers. Her close proximity caused my skin to erupt into goose bumps. I felt anxious, and uneasy, and a little intimidated. Tiffany's hand rose to my hair, playfully twirling it with her fingers. She leaned in closer, her lips grazing my ear.

"I would never do that to you, Bailey," Tiffany whispered. "Not in a million years."

"This whole time…" I said, breathlessly.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"I'm sorry," I said, now tilting my head toward hers. "I should've known it wasn't you."

"It's kind of disappointing you didn't trust me," Tiffany whispered. "I think I'm going to have to find a way for you to make it up to me." Her words road on heavy breaths, lazily drifting over my earlobe.

"To be fair," I said, now looking at her out of the corner of my eye. "They had Tawny convinced too."

"That bitch," Tiffany whispered playfully into my ear. "She's been giving me the runaround for two weeks too."

From behind Tiffany, a male adult cleared his throat. It gave us both pause, making us freeze up. Then came the booming voice of Mister Jackson from the same area. "Okay lovebirds… off to lunch you go."

Tiffany quickly pulled away from me. Her face lit up in a relentless blush. Lifting her hand to cover herself a little, she pushed past me toward the cafeteria. I was left alone, with Mister Jackson, still leaning against my own locker. As I looked up to face him, I could feel my face growing with a heat of it's own.

Mister Jackson stood at his door, smiling as he shook his head. "Go on now, Mister Walker. Don't let the pretty girl get away."

Mister Jackson's words stuck with me for quite some time after that. As I looked up at Tiffany, sitting across from me at the lunch table, I realized one thing. I did not want to let the pretty girl get away. I couldn't lose her. Two weeks without her was painful enough, and made me dread what might have occurred today. Circumstances had been drastically different than what I had perceived. How could I have been so stupid?

"What?" Tiffany asked, pausing between bites of her lunch.

"Your hair…" I smiled. "It's growing on me."

"Either he's love-struck, or that's the worst pun ever," Danielle said, as she slid into the seat next to me.

"Whoa!" Tracy said. "What brings the new queen back to our humble table?"

"An invite," Danielle said.

"To…?" Tiffany asked.

"My birthday party," Danielle said, smiling at Tracy and Tiffany. "I'd like for you to come to it."

I looked up from copying Tracy's notes. "Sounds fun, I guess."

"It's a slumber party," Danielle said, turning her smile upon me. "If you can get away with it, I'd absolutely love to see you there." She leaned in closer. "It might be a little too much for you to handle though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked quietly.

"All those girls in sleepwear, and no touchy," Danielle said, winking.

"I'll pass," I said, turning back to my notes. "I'm trying this whole new thing, where I don't do that anymore."

"That's too bad," Danielle said, turning back to the girls. "You'd look cute in a nightgown."

I reached up and grabbed a piece of my sandwich, shoving it in my mouth, before returning to copying the notes. For several more minutes I tried my best to ignore Danielle gabbing on about the details. Pushing the thought of dressing to the back of my mind, I concentrated on feeling what a boy would do in this situation. The average boy would probably throw on a wig and dress to get the slimmest of chances at seeing the other girls naked.

That seemed to be the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, my mind wandered to images of girls painting each others' nails, telling secrets, revealing their crushes and sharing hair and makeup tips. If anything, it would be a fantastic experience to learn a few tricks of the trade; so to speak. I was struggling to not blurt out my desire to join them. It felt like a tug-of-war going on in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm.

"Maybe we can do something else sometime," Danielle said, smiling sincerely. "Like old times."

"Sure," I said, smiling back at her pleasantly.

"But do let me know if you change your mind about the slumber party," Danielle said, patting my arm. "Nobody would have to know a thing." With a final wink, she was up and walking toward her usual table. She turned back to me and smiled, then sat and started gabbing with her other friends.

"So are you going?" Tracy asked.

"No," I said. "Not that it wouldn't be a unique experience, but I'm done with all of that."

"I think she was asking me, honey," Tiffany said, patting my hand while smiling.

"You know Danielle was kidding, right?" Tracy asked. "There is no way she'd let a boy near her slumber party." She started giggling. "Her dad would chase you down the street with a shotgun if he found out."

"We'll let you know all about it though," Tiffany said, winking.

"I…" Going back to my notes, I avoided further eye contact. "I don't want to know."

"Are you okay?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm fine," I said. "I just…" I pulled my hand away from hers. "I need to finish getting these notes down."

"I can leave if you two wanna talk," Tracy said quietly.

I glanced up for a second at both of them. "I'm fine," I repeated, before returning to the notes.

My assertion at lunch carried me through the rest of the day, and even through the first mundane period of gym class. I was fine. However, I had always been simply average at anything related to physical education. The best thing I had going for me was my ability to run. Leaving the house to jog with Nathan had done wonders to build up my stamina, and I could probably hold my own in a distance run.

Sports in general, on the other hand, were not exactly my thing. I'd grown to at least appreciate football, and respected that people I knew liked it. That didn't make me good at it though. Basketball, soccer and hockey all wonderfully brought out my ineptness in coordinating anything with my hands or feet with my eyes. The only thing I dreaded worse than any of those, however, happened to be wrestling.

The one sport that revolved around pushing your physique to it's maximum limits, happened to be the first on the list that year in gym. Wrestling with my brother, and fighting with other boys, clearly showed me that I had no business trying to pin one of them on a mat. Not only that, but nothing made me feel smaller than our dictator of a gym coach strutting by, and putting me in the lightest weight class.

Together with four other runts, we all took to the mat to fight over who could be the strongest weakling in our class. As the last hour of the day wore on, however, I discovered that I at least wasn't the loser of the runts. I wasn't exactly the winner, but the good old stamina I mentioned earlier helped out a little. For the very least of things, I could manage to outlast three of the boys. The other one was a bit more of a challenge.

But as they say of all things; time flies when you're being humiliated by having your face smothered into a wrestling mat. It wasn't long before we were all back in the locker room, preparing to catch the bus home. Luckily we had the option of showering, seeing as how it was the last hour of the day. Some chose to shower, but along with the majority of the boys, I chose to take a short ride home to my own shower.

Not that it mattered much. The bus driver kept the temperature just above the point of making any sweat freeze to our bodies anyway. As I sat down on the chilled leather seat, I reflected on the day. It had not turned into the horrible disaster I thought it would. Even an old friend had possibly returned to our group. I turned to the window, blowing hot air upon it. Then, lifting my finger, I quickly drew a smiley face upon the fogged up window, and sat smiling back at it.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 6

I wasn't exactly sure what woke me that night. Be it the pleasant dream, or Tom bursting through the door with another man, I woke from a sound sleep. It took me a long moment to realize what had happened. Curled up on my favorite chair, I had fallen asleep reading the latest of Alice's adventures in Wonderland. The book had fallen to the side, and a soft blanket wrapped itself around me like a welcomed hug.

"Okay, okay," Tom said, his voice somewhat low. "It's not a big deal. Probably just a mistake in the books. We'll go look."

"It's a big fucking deal if we lost that money. You better pray we didn't."

At first I didn't recognize the other man's voice. Trying to place him among one of Tom's various acquaintances was straining, as I hardly knew most of them. Thinking back through the last several months, I tried to place his voice. Slowly I began to process him. The deep southern accent being my only clue, I began to picture the person using it. Raven black, perfectly groomed, hair, and the flawless toothpaste commercial smile; the voice belonged to Tom's latest business partner, Trevor James.

I'd met him only once, right before heading out on Christmas Eve to the ballet. He was a lot nicer that night. My insides began to revolt as I thought about that night. The images of Tiffany and Vince kissing still burned feverishly in my mind. Before thoughts of betrayal overwhelmed me, I refocused my energy on pretending I had not eavesdropped. I put on my best acting skills as they came up the stairs.

"Tom?" I called out, stretching as he hit the top of the stairs. "What time is it?" I asked with a yawn.

"Bailey…" Tom said, shuffling nervously. "Did we wake you up?"

"I fell asleep reading," I said, pulling my book up to show him.

"Tom…" Trevor said, impatiently stepping to the side and turning his back.

Tom nodded at Trevor. Then he flipped his wrist over to look at his watch. "You should get to bed, Bailey. You've got school tomorrow." He gestured Trevor back to his office, and turned back to me. "I've got some work to do."

"Okay," I said, yawning again to sell it. "Good night."

"Good night," Tom said, before turning to head to his office.

I gathered up my book and blanket. Slipping from my chair, I slowly made my way across the living room. From the corner of the dining room, I could see Tom step into his office, and close the door to a crack. The two men walked for a moment around the room, casting dark shadows over the slit of light as they passed by the door. The house was quiet. Justin had gone to his room long before I started reading.

"If this was any bigger, it could cost us millions," Trevor said, his voice a bit agitated. "You're lucky you still have both kneecaps."

My eyes nearly popped out of my skull after hearing that. I don't think I blinked for half a minute. A mixture of worry and curiosity stirred inside of me. Suddenly I found myself slinking up against the wall. The house got quiet again. My heart beat in my chest like a massive drum. I felt as if it would leap from my chest at any moment. The men's voices got low, and I strained to hear them.

"It was an honest mistake," Tom said. "Look. Just a number that didn't get penciled in here. The money's all accounted for."

"If your damn business wasn't a necessary step, I'd cut you off completely."

"Don't be like that," Tom said, sounding more like a scolded child by the minute. "You came to me, because you can count on me."

"What I need to count on is a damn bookkeeper," Trevor said. "And that's the first thing we're getting when this deal goes through."

"That's just more of the cut," Tom said.

"Yeah…" Trevor said, pausing for a moment. "But we can cut them out when they're no longer needed."

A lump caught in my throat the instant Trevor put emphasis on the word cut. What once sounded like one steady drum, started to sound like two. My heart raced, as they began to stir in the office. With every frightened ounce of strength I had in me, I pushed away from the wall. The light from the office vanished, and sent me stumbling backwards toward my room.

"Let's get a beer," Tom said, loudly.

Those were the last words I heard, as my socked feet carried me quickly down the hallway. As I passed the threshold of my door, I felt myself breathing for the first time since I took flight. Quickly closing my door, I backed away and sat on my bed. My body shook, my knees trembled. If the book in my hand wasn't hardback, it would've probably had deep pits where my fingers were.

For nearly half an hour I sat frozen on the side of my bed. At any moment I expected them to bust through my door and ask me why I was listening in on them. That moment never came. I managed to ease myself into bed. Being under the covers usually felt safe when I was younger. After overhearing what appeared to be Tom taking an antagonistic role in a police procedural show, my bed started to feel more like a coffin.

I vaguely remember the hours to come. Somewhere in the midst of checking my door handle, and wishing it had all been a dream, I drifted off to sleep. Another variation of the dream from before entering my slumber. It was pleasant, but surreal. Somewhere beneath it all sat a seedy darkness; one that would soon envelop all hope I had left. Then, it was morning.

"Don't forget your coat," my mother screamed, as I hurried down the stairs. "It's only supposed to stay in the twenties today."

I grabbed my coat from the rack near the door. Shoving my arm through one sleeve, I managed to open the door enough to kick it the rest of the way. My mother appeared at the top of the stairs; obviously checking to see that I followed orders. I backed through the storm door, waving at her. My other hand reached for the doorknob.

"Have a good day," she said.

"Bye mom."

As I hurried down the steps outside that day, I remember thinking about those words. They had to be the absolute worst thing to say to someone before they headed off to school. Have a good day. Nothing seemed to be whimsical enough in junior high to ever warrant the day being good. The day just was, for all intents and purposes, unremarkable to the core.

"Why so glum, sugarplum?"

I turned to face the source of the somewhat obnoxious question. A chubby-faced girl, named Nancy, had taken it upon herself to be my rock through these turbulent past few weeks. Always cheerful, her demeanor was downright impossible to sway. Obviously, like any other self-doubting kid, her disposition would falter if barraged with harsh insults, but I wasn't the slightest bit cruel enough to do that. She actually made me feel better… most of the time.

"I may have…" I suddenly stopped myself. Her infectious way of getting people to cast their burdens on her, had almost struck gold with me. I nearly blurted out the scene I'd witnessed last night. "I… had another weird dream," I covered.

"The same one?" Nancy asked.

"Not exactly," I said. "But it was close, and just as dumb as the first two."

"Well don't tell me about it," Nancy said. "My mom says it's not good to relive dreams. Only live them once."

"Now I know where you get your crazy advice," I said, forcing myself to smile.

"It's only crazy if it doesn't work," Nancy retorted.

"That one's actually not bad."

"That one comes from my dad," Nancy said, reluctantly. "Will I see you at lunch again today?"

"Sure," I said.

"Hey…" Nancy leaned over across the aisle to pat my shoulder. "Cheer up. Things will get better."

Her friend, Carla, pulled Nancy back over to their seat. Suddenly they were gabbing over some fashion magazine Carla had brought along for the bus trip. After a moment, Nancy turned to glance at me. She flashed me a pleasant smile. Once I had forced a smile back, she felt reassured, and went back to chatting with her friend.

Eventually we reached the circle drive of the school once more. I peered out at the dismal gray building, as it stretched up to reach the dismal gray sky. Winter seemed so depressing. Of course, the death cycle of anything usually took that upon itself as a mantle. Once the bus stopped, I pushed myself into the crowded aisle to start my trek inside.

Walking into the front hallway, I nearly gagged. Streams of pink, white and red paper chains danced upon the walls. Hearts sprung out of every nook and cranny, as if they'd crawled out from between their brick graves. In one spot, an overly cute cherub in a diaper held his heart-tipped bow toward the sky. And as I strolled down the rows of lockers, even more hearts popped up; taped to random lockers.

Yes, it was the week of Valentine's day. That wonderful time of year where if you have someone you care about, and money to buy them things, you were superior to the lowly single serfs. I only had one thing on my mind though. As I neared my locker, the matter became even more pressing than it had seconds earlier. Something had to be done about it, and quickly.

Reaching up, I grabbed the weak little pink monstrosity by the bottom tip. With rage welling up inside of me, I whipped my arm down fast and hard. The sound of paper and tape being ripped from my locker, filled me with a bit of glee. No longer would that trashy heart be fastened to my personal space.

"Hey!"

I concentrated on my locker combination, ignoring the voice of protest behind me.

"The art club went to a lot of trouble to decorate."

Still ignoring the whiney female voice, I finished with my combination and sprung my locker open. Shuffling the books in and out, I grabbed what I needed for my first two hours of class, and shoved them in my backpack. Before long I felt a presence behind me. Hoping they would go away, I wasted more time rearranging my locker contents.

"Can I at least have the heart back, so I can put it on another locker?"

Filling up with rage once more, I spun to face the intruder. "You want your heart back…"

My mouth dropped. A pair of turquoise eyes glared back at me. The heart-shaped face that greeted me looked not unlike the cherub's that hung in the hallway up front. Only this cherub's face looked upset and out for blood. She wore the preppy clothes from 'Tweens, and all the attitude to go with them. Suddenly her glaring eyes were the size of silver dollars.

"No… way…"

"Here!" I said, thrusting the heart into Jillian Wilcox's hand. "Just put it up somewhere else."

Before I could turn away, Jillian's hand latched onto my wrist. I glanced down at her firm grip, and then slowly let my eyes rise to meet hers.

"Are you serious?!" Jillian exclaimed loudly.

I looked at Jillian with pleading eyes, as she now glared back at me with malcontent in her own. In the deepest recesses of my heart, I always knew someone would find out about my double life. Though I'd always hoped it would be a gentle discovery, and not one where the person felt an overwhelming urge to dropkick me at the same moment.

"She said that?" Jillian said, straightening herself.

My mouth hung slack. The kids who had taken an interest in the scene, had now all turned their backs on us. Jillian still had her fingers tightly wrapped around my wrist. I was beginning to get that tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers. My heart began pounding in my chest as it had the night before. Suddenly this moment felt scarier than being caught by Tom and Trevor.

"You…" Jillian said, filling the silence if only for a millisecond. "You really look…" Her eyes ran up and down my body. "The same," she finished. Then looked me right in the eyes. "Sans makeup of course."

"Sans what?" I said.

"Without your makeup," Jillian said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to shake my wrist from her grip.

"Oh, get real," Jillian said. "I knew something was off about you two." She looked around for a moment. "So where's the girlfriend anyway?"

"She's… somewhere else," I said, finally squirming my arm free.

"I take it from the way you treated that paper heart, that things aren't going so well?"

"They could be better," I said, rubbing my wrist.

"Well," Jillian turned and leaned against the locker next to mine. She looked me up and down once more. "This is interesting."

Sighing, I turned to face my open locker. "I suppose you're going to take advantage of this like you did before?"

"Oh please," Jillian said. "Like you didn't have fun." She tilted her head toward me. "I wouldn't go running off telling Dylan though. He might not take it so well."

"I'm surprised you are."

"You know I just dress the part of a church girl," Jillian said. "It doesn't mean I am one."

"So what kind of girl are you?" I asked, my body feeling weak.

"One that can keep secrets," Jillian said, slightly quieter than before. "Maybe I'll keep yours."

Swallowing hard, I turned to face her. "What do you mean by maybe?"

"I mean," Jillian leaned in closer. "Maybe you can make it up to me, if I keep your little secret."

"More blackmailing?"

"No, not really," Jillian said. "I'm saying maybe we can be friends."

"Is blackmailing how you usually make friends?" I asked with a smirk.

"Ouch! Rip my heart twice in one day," Jillian said. "I'm hurt."

"Sorry," I said. "I've just been dealing with a lot of stuff lately."

"Your girlfriend?" Jillian asked, holding up the paper heart again.

"Something like that."

"Well don't take it out on anymore of the decorations," Jillian said. "Please?"

I forced myself to smile for her. "I won't."

She reached out and took my hand, turning my palm upwards. Then she pulled out a pen. The tip tickled as it danced across my palm. In it's wake it poured out a series of numbers. Once Jillian finished with that, she made sure to encase the entire thing with an ink heart. Smiling boldly, she let my hand go and straightened herself.

"Now you have a new heart," she said, with a wink. "Call me." She started to walk away, but turned back abruptly. "Tonight." She paused for a moment. "But not too late!" And with that, Jillian Wilcox hurried away.

The day seemed to drag on forever it seemed. Each minute passed like an hour, and at times I found myself watching the seconds tick away on the clocks. I had already copied Jillian's number to a safer place. Just in case some freak accident caused me to lose my hand, or the ink sweated off in gym class. It honestly surprised me of how accepting Jillian had been. If the day wasn't so dull, I would've sworn I was having another dream.

Science class came and went, without so much as ten words from Tracy. Although she claimed to be on my side, she really had taken up residence in neutral territory. She pronounced her feelings were akin to standing in the middle of her two siblings. Her mantra of "I love you both," wasn't exactly what either of us wanted to hear. At least she still had Jason.

Two more boring hours later brought us to lunch. It also brought us full circle back to Nancy's obnoxious ever-cheerful counseling corner. Perhaps if my mood had been different that winter, I would have cherished our friendship more. However, if I hadn't been down in the dumps, I probably would've never gotten a chance to know her. We met under somewhat unusual circumstances.

Nancy was the type to keep only the closest of friends. Although she came off as bubbly and unassuming, she could read people well. She instantly knew the deeper inner workings of someone, and could tell if they would be staunch friends, or close acquaintances. I never knew or understood how she did it, but she could smell a backstabber from a mile away, and held them at arms length until the moment came.

"Have you talked to her lately?" Nancy quietly asked.

"Who?" I looked up to see Nancy and Carla looking back at me with pity written all over their faces.

"Really?" Carla asked. "You've been stealing glances at her all lunch."

"All last week too," Nancy added, sympathetically.

"Well if it bothers you two, I can always sit somewhere else."

"Don't be silly," Nancy said. "We'd just come sit with you all over again."

I glanced back over to the person in question. Long black hair framed the face of a girl I once considered an angel. She was my angel, and I thought we had something special. The hazel-eyed beauty knew every last one of my secrets. I thought I had known all of hers. Only the one that she had been keeping from me, cut me deeply, and shattered what we once had.

"I guess it still hurts," I said, my voice barely audible.

"Well of course," Nancy said. "That's why we asked."

"We're just concerned," Carla said, reaching out to pat my hand.

"I haven't talked to her since we broke up," I said, looking back at Tiffany. She sat with Tracy still, but I couldn't bring myself to sit with them. "It's hard to be friends after…" I went back to eating my lunch, though not feeling in the least bit hungry.

"You know," Carla said, "I heard the thing with Vince didn't last that long."

"Don't," Nancy said, cutting her friend off. "That was pure guilt on her part, and Bailey doesn't need to hear that."

"I'm just trying to help," Carla said.

"It's okay," I said, looking at both of them. "It doesn't change how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Nancy asked quietly.

I sighed, reflecting on the last several months. The line that Tiffany gave me, when I confronted her, echoed in my mind. "It just… happened." It… happened to be the short form for Tiffany having a moment of weakness and falling for Vince. It… was a mistake, that she couldn't erase. It… was the soul purpose that Tiffany and I no longer talked. She wanted to, but the pain I felt inside hurt too deeply for mere words.

"Betrayed," I said with a slight tinge of anger.

Nancy nodded at me quietly from across the table. Carla turned back to look at Tiffany, and I followed her gaze. Tiffany sat there solemnly at our old table. Next to Tracy, she hardly spoke a word. With her head down, she quietly ate her lunch in slow rhythm. It had been that way for days.

It was true that Tiffany had not hung out with Vince for the last few weeks. I heard it daily from Tracy and Jason. Luckily I didn't share a single class with Vince anymore. So I didn't have to see his smug face for the remainder of the school year. The honest truth happened to be that I no longer wanted anything to do with the old group. With the only exception being Tawny, the old group, to me, had all broken to pieces.

However, the rift between Tiffany and I had stirred up a hornets nest when it came to their older siblings. I hardly ever saw Tawny unless her older sister Lynn was getting together with Tiffany's older sister Kate. Kate happened to be friends with all of their siblings, which is what drew our little group together to start with. Once dissension had started, the chances of us hanging out were slim. That is unless we went to each other's houses, which seemed kind of dull considering our past adventures.

"So what's with the heart?" Carla asked abruptly.

I snapped out of my trance, and looked at her quizzically. She nodded down at my hand. Flipping it over, I remembered my run-in with Jillian earlier that day. The heart she had drawn seemed cute at the time, but now the feeling of nausea returned. It was almost sickening sweet.

"New crush?" Nancy asked expectantly.

"Just a girl I know," I said. "Long story."

"Are you going to call her?" Nancy asked.

My shoulders lifted into a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I think you should," Nancy said. "At least it'll take your mind off things."

"What about Tiffany?" I asked, not really knowing the answer myself.

"I didn't say make out with her," Nancy said. "But honestly… If I were you…"

"You should move on," Carla interjected. "At least give yourself a chance to get over her."

A sigh escaped my lips. "I think I need more guy friends…"

"Nancy's pretty close to a guy friend," Carla said with a laugh. A laugh that was quickly thwarted by Nancy punching her in the side with an elbow.

I happened to agree with Carla, and not just about Nancy being boyish. I'd grown up with her around the neighborhood, and knew she was more of a boy than I had been in recent years; especially recent months. However, Carla was also right about me moving on. As much as it pained me to do it, Tiffany had lied to me more than just this time. I wasn't so sure that I could trust her again.

Tiffany had revealed my secret when I asked her not to. She had lied about how she met Vince, him being gay, and even their support group. They had actually been setup by their parents, and reluctantly hit it off at a fundraiser. If I had to guess, it was Tiffany's mom pushing her away from girls; or rather girly boys in my case. I had been led on for several months. While Tiffany pushed me to be more of a girl, she was getting cozy with another boy.

When it came right down to it, I felt Tiffany wanted to have it both ways. She wanted a boyfriend, and a boy friend that she could treat as her girl friend. Amazingly, and unwittingly on my part, she had struck gold with me. I had been her girl friend willingly, long before she decided to have a boyfriend as well. What I couldn't understand is why she let Vince go. Nancy could call it guilt, but I felt there was some other reason behind her decision.

The cafeteria noise brought me out of another contemplative trance. Around me a multitude of lunch trays clacked inharmoniously, and students were rising to their feet. I glanced one last time toward Tiffany. She brushed her long black hair to the side as she lifted her lunch tray from the table. Her hazel eyes danced upwards and caught mine for the briefest of moments. For a moment I felt her sorrow cross the room and stab at my heart, but then it was gone, and so was she.

"Guess we'll see you on the bus," Nancy said.

Carla stood up with her, and gave me a pleasant smile. "You should call her." She pointed at my hand, and then walked away.

I quickly crammed what remained of my lunch into the brown paper bag from whence it came. Before any of my so-called friends could accost me, I pushed myself away from the table and made my escape from the cafeteria. I snaked my way through the crowd of students in the halls, and slipped into the boys bathroom. It was empty and quiet for the moment. I walked to the sink and started to scrub off Jillian's number from my hand.

For me to say the rest of the day was a blur, would be an outright lie. The rest of the day moved slower than refrigerated molasses being poured outside in the arctic circle. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to being at school, or anywhere for that matter. At the moment, I really hated being outside of my house.

I hated being inside of my house too. My entire life sucked. The only bright spot was knowing when gym class came, I was less than an hour away from going home. Which I suppose is why I felt somewhat relieved that day to be changing into my gym clothes. Despite how ignorant our mandated gym clothes looked, they were a welcomed comfort at the moment.

I'd been dreading gym class ever since sixth grade ended. The horror stories you see on television and in movies, of the scrawny kid being picked on, had played tricks on my mind for the last several months. My family thought I was snapping out of my "girly phase" as Tom put it, simply because I'd grown tired of it. However, the strongest fear in my decision came from this very class.

I was afraid of my secret being seen by some of these other boys. Though I tried not to look around, I couldn't help notice the other boys in gym class. I wasn't blind. Some of them had started developing in ways I wish I had. A few had muscle definition already, while a couple even had body hair. Any hair I had managed to scrap together, I had foolishly shaved off before dressing that last time and going out with Tawny. It had not shown great progress of growing back.

I felt inadequate. My biggest concern going into gym class, was not whether or not I would match up with the other boys. Rather my biggest concern was trying to at least look like a boy in front of the other boys. I seriously doubted any of them were worried about giving up panties for the semester. Not one of them probably stopped painting their nails, or put their feminine attire away for the winter. And I was pretty certain none of them had been out tanning that summer in a girls swimsuit, or modeled girls clothing.

Yet every day I looked forward to this time. It let me blow off some steam. Even though I comparatively sucked at sports, I did have fun playing them. So I felt a small amount of relief as we walked down the stairs to the gym. I felt like I could blow this day off like so many others, and forget about Tiffany and Jillian, and perhaps girls in general. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, my competitive spirit had been kicked into overdrive.

Then it came to a dead stop and the engine fell out. Something was missing that day from the gym. The heavy partition curtain, that so adamantly separated the gym into boys and girls gym classes, had been pushed aside. We could see the entire gym now from where we stood. Everything could be seen, including the girls entering the gym from their own locker room.

"Alright," our coach's voice boomed from behind us. "Today we're starting our first coed event of the semester." He pushed through us to the front of the pack. "I strongly suggest you show the girls respect." He turned to face us. "Or you'll quickly be dealing with me. Got it?"

I nodded along with the rest of the boys around me, but stared into oblivion as the girls drew closer.

"Everyone take a seat," our coach said.

"We'll be pairing you up with a partner today," the girl's coach said. "Get used to each other, as you'll be partners for the next two weeks."

I looked over at the girls gym class, as we all took our seats on the bleachers. Most of them I had never seen before. However, a few of them caught my eye, as I knew them all too well. Tiffany spotted me and gave me a shy glance before turning away. Behind her, Tawny boldly gave me a pleasant smile and a quick wave. I waved back to her, as I took my seat.

"Okay listen up," the girl's coach said. "I'll call out a name of one of the girls, and then coach Higgins will call out her partner's name. Once we have everyone with a partner, we'll go over the fundamentals of square dancing."

Several audible groans erupted from the boy's gym class, and mingled with a few from the girls.

"Hey!" Coach Higgins stepped forward, thrusting his clipboard behind his back. "What did I say about respect?"

Silence fell over the bleachers, and not a sound could be heard throughout the gymnasium. After a few minutes, the coaches began piecing together dance partners down on the gym floor. The list of names seemed to go on forever. I watched from the back as our groups slowly dwindled. Tiffany still remained over on the girl's side, and I began to worry that I'd be partnered with her.

"Tiffany Stewart," the girl's coach called out.

My palms began to sweat. I could feel my heart pounding. If Coach Higgins called my name, I didn't know if I'd be able to stand. Tiffany gathered herself and strolled down to the gym floor. As she walked, my whole entire focus shifted to Coach Higgins. He pulled the clipboard up, and slid his finger down the list of names. A lump formed in my throat as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Brad Stevenson."

A burst of calm spread through my body. I turned to look at Tiffany. For a moment I saw her face contort through a series of emotions. They ranged from relief to disappointment, and then finally into a shy smile as she looked at Brad. Up until this point, I had not cared who she was partnered with, as long as it wasn't me. However, as I saw them start talking, and apparently hitting it off, a slight tinge of jealousy shot through me. I didn't want to be with Tiffany at that moment, but then I didn't want her to be with another boy either.

"Tawny Simmons."

I jumped at Tawny's name being called. My eyes danced over to where she was standing from her seat. She seemed to hop down the few stairs of the bleachers. When she hit the floor, she turned and looked up at the boys nervously. She clenched her left elbow in her right hand, and let her left arm dangle across her body. At that moment, I really hoped she got partnered with someone that made her feel comfortable.

"Bailey Walker," Coach Higgins called out.

"I thought this was girl and boy, not girl and girl," one of the boys said as I stood. It was met with subtle laughter.

"Hey!" Coach Higgins shouted, pointing his clipboard in the direction of the comment. "That better be the last time I hear something like that."

The damage had already been done. Half of the students behind the coaches were smiling and snickering. Tawny's smile, the one that lit up her face when she'd heard my name, had faded into the universal look of pity. I made my way down the steps of the bleachers, and walked up to Tawny. We exchanged pleasantries and moved to the back with the rest of the students.

"Don't let 'em get to you," Tawny said.

"Huh?" I looked at Tawny in total confusion.

"What he just said."

"Oh," I said, chuckling. "I'm used to that. I was just thinking about something else."

"Tiff?"

"Actually… no," I said. "I mean I was." I glanced over at Tiffany. "I was thinking I didn't want to be partnered with her." I turned back to Tawny. "But other than that…"

"I see," Tawny said, nodding thoughtfully. "Do you…" Tawny shrugged her shoulders, and then stood up straighter. "Would you like to come over some time?"

"To your house?"

"Yeah," Tawny said. "To hang out."

"Sure," I said, smiling. "Or we could go somewhere. I haven't been out for awhile."

"Or that," Tawny said, now smiling as well. "We could go bowling, or skating, or something."

"Okay," I said. "Sounds great."

"Which?" Tawny said, as if it were a life or death decision.

"Whatever," I said. "I'm not picky."

Our brief conversation was interrupted by the girl's coach going over the fundamentals of square dancing. Apparently square dancing in fifth and sixth grade had not been beaten into our skulls enough. So we had to suffer through it in junior high as well. Honestly, I could take it or leave it, as it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was social enough to not stress most kids out, and fun enough for kids to not get bored. And it would certainly not be the last time I'd partake in it.

Luckily Tiffany was not in our group of eight dancers either. This made it more enjoyable in the long run. I didn't hate Tiffany, or anything of the sort. Although most people thought I did. In fact, I still had feelings for her. Perhaps they weren't as strong as they were before, but the things we shared still weighed heavily on my mind. I simply needed to be away from her for awhile.

Gym class ended, perhaps too soon for some of the students. I think a few of the girls and boys were just happy to be in close proximity to the opposite gender. It amazed me how the class went from groans at the start, to mostly everyone enjoying themselves in the end. That seemed to be one of life's little mysteries to me at that age. But it didn't make me dwell on it long enough to not rush off to meet my bus. I wanted nothing more than to be home.

"So… Are you going to call her?" Nancy asked, now sitting next to me on the bus ride home.

"Who?"

"The girl who wrote on your hand, silly," Nancy said, grabbing my hand and turning it over. "Oh… you washed it off."

"I'd actually almost forgotten about that," I said, honestly.

"Does she like you?" Nancy asked.

Shrugging, I pulled my hand away. "I don't know if it's even like that."

"What's it like?"

"She said she just wanted to be friends," I said.

"Nothing wrong with that, I suppose."

I shrugged once more.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Nancy asked.

"Not really," I said, chuckling nervously.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Nancy asked quietly.

"I guess," I said, looking at her now.

"You don't have to answer it, or anything," Nancy said, "but why did you stop painting your nails?"

My face must have looked like I'd been shot in the stomach with birdshot. I recall myself even wincing as if in pain. Nancy looked a little worried as well, as she quickly glanced around her to see if anyone had heard the question. When she looked back at me, she had a look of concern on her face. She reached up and placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You don't have to answer that."

"It's a long story anyway," I said.

"It's just… I've seen some things," Nancy said. "I think… But I'm not sure. And I was wondering."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, pulling away slightly.

Nancy took the hint and removed her hand. I turned to look out the window. For the rest of the bus ride, I sat in silence. Nancy sat silently beside me, never offering anything more than quiet support. Eventually we came to her stop, and we said our goodbyes, although I never turned from the window until we came to my stop. I knew what she was thinking, and I knew what she had probably seen.

It was the last thing I wanted to talk about today. I hurried from the bus, and up to my front door. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I had gained speed. I called out. Nobody seemed to be home. Dropping my backpack on my bed, I yanked the zipper open. I pulled my notebook out, and flipped the pages to Jillian's number.

Then I slumped down against the side of my bed. Jillian probably hadn't come home yet, and I didn't want to seem eager. I tossed the notebook on the floor next to me. For a moment I sat and stared at the open pad of paper. After several minutes of boredom, I kicked off my shoes and pushed myself up off the floor. I slowly made my way to the kitchen.

As I reached up to flick the kitchen light on, I noticed light spilling from Tom's office. I called out once more, this time for Tom in particular. Nobody answered. I crept over across the kitchen and dining room, and found myself standing at his office door. After a few knocks, and no response, I pushed the door open. Only planning to turn the light off, I froze when I saw Doctor Dinesh's name on a letterhead.

Scooting across the threshold of Tom's office, I slinked into his chair. I carefully pulled the letter out from under a stack of papers, making sure I knew exactly where to place it back. The last thing I needed was an irate Tom on my hands. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I unfolded the letter. It was short.

Tom,

The financial side is in order. Suggest moving up the timeline on the procedure. The sooner we act, the better off things will be for all of us. I know it wasn't planned this way, but a surgical approach would be in our best interest. The situation is collapsing rather quickly. I'll move ahead to see that everything is in order.

Regards,
Lamar Brooks

I must have read that letter twenty times. The first several times it didn't make sense. Then it slowly dawned on me. The words "surgical" and "procedure" jumped out at me like a tiger hiding in the bush. Was Doctor Brooks talking about me? Were they planning some sort of surgery to fix me?

With my hands trembling, I managed to slip the letter back into place beneath the stack of papers. I pushed myself out of the chair, and flipped off the light. Pausing at the doorway, I looked back at the letter. Where did Rajan stand in all of this? Did he know? What was actually wrong with me that it could require surgery?

Like a zombie I moved across the dining room and kitchen. I don't remember making it down the hallway, and certainly didn't remember entering my room. Slumped back down against the side of my bed, I pulled my knees to my chest. The letter seemed branded into my brain now. What did it mean?

As I thought about it, I found myself subconsciously reaching for something underneath my bedside table. I pulled the tiny object out and shook it. Like I was out of my body, I watched myself pull off my right sock. Then I unscrewed the cap from the tiny little bottle in my hand. I pulled out the brush, and then I carefully ran the tiny brush over one toenail. I couldn't stop once I had started. One at a time, each of my toenails became covered in a dark, but shiny, sapphire blue.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 1

Darkness greeted me, as my eyelids unfurled like curtains on a stage. My body felt like a feather floating in the breeze. Curled up beneath layers of blankets, I felt safe. As my eyes began to adjust to my surroundings, a flash of lightning lit up the room. Rain pattered against the window pain.

Thunder rumbled, making my body stir. I pushed the blankets off of me. The scent of the material was unfamiliar, but pleasant. As I uncurled my body, I realized the room seemed just as unfamiliar. After a lingering, but satisfying, stretch, I slid my body around and sat on the edge of the bed. Lightning lit the strange room once more.

"Where am I?" I asked quietly to the still, dark room.

I pushed myself up from the bed. My body revolted, wanting to stay curled up in that warm place I had retreated from. Instinctively my hands went to my eyes, attempting to rub the sleep out of them. I turned my head, and saw a beam of light creeping in from underneath a door. Determined now, I forced myself away from the nice safe bed, and tiptoed across the room.

"No… Yeah, he's still here."

Nearly leaping from the floor, my body twitched and convulsed at the woman's voice. I froze at the doorway. My hand had made it halfway to the handle. Breathing came in ragged waves as my chest heaved. Everything seemed completely unfamiliar to me, and my head started to spin.

"I agree," the woman's voice continued. "No, I don't think it's going to let up anytime soon." A long pause followed before she spoke again. "Absolutely. He can stay here tonight."

The more I listened to her voice, the more familiar it seemed to me. I tried to recount the events of my day, but could hardly remember anything. Worst of all, I had no idea how long I had been asleep. It could have been days for all I knew. I reached for the door handle, and twisted it.

"At least it's not locked," I mumbled quietly, while smiling to myself.

Light poured into my eyes as if I were staring into the sun. Temporarily blinded, it added more to my confused state. My hand flew to my forehead, shielding my eyes. I barely made it from the room before I heard the woman end her conversation. She stood down the hallway from me, and I managed to make out a cordless phone in her hand.

"Oh, you're awake! I didn't wake you did I?"

My eyes adjusted on her face. "Misses Riley?"

"You gave Nathan quite a scare," she said, walking toward me. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I…" My eyes roamed around the empty hallway walls. "I'm fine… Just tired…"

Suddenly Mrs. Riley was in front of me. Her hands were on my shoulders, and she leaned over me, looking me in the eyes.

"Did you fall?" she asked. "Does anything hurt?"

I leaned away from her. My head shook slowly. "I… Did something happen?"

"You don't remember?" asked another voice, which seemed to project throughout the entire hallway.

"Nathan." It was hard to hide the affection in my voice as I spoke his name. "What's going on?"

Nathan's mother stepped aside, resting against the wall. "He seems fine, if not groggy," she said.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"You really don't remember anything?" Nathan asked, his face now frighteningly solemn.

I felt my head shaking once more. My wavy locks of blonde hair bounced against my cheeks.

"Well…" Nathan stepped closer. "You came over this morning to go on our usual jog…" He lingered on the last word, as if hoping it would jog my memory somehow. When it failed, he proceeded to talk again. "I had to run up here to get my hat. When I came back down… you were passed out on the floor."

"Why don't I remember any of that?" I asked to nobody in particular.

"Did you hit your head?" Mrs. Riley asked, stepping back over me. She proceeded to check the back of my head. "Does your head hurt?"

"No," I said, looking at Nathan puzzled. "Nothing hurts. Really."

"Mom…" Nathan said, tugging his mother's elbow away. "He said he's fine."

"Well I'm just wanting to make sure," she said, backing away. "If one of you kids gets injured over here, it's my responsibility."

"I don't think he's injured," Nathan said. "I don't even think he fell."

"Then what happened?" I asked, looking back at Nathan.

"Well…" Nathan gave me a half smile. "I think you just zonked out while stretching." He scratched his head nervously. "I tried to wake you up, but you kept saying you were tired, and even rolled away from me."

"So how did I end up in your bed?" I asked, suddenly realizing where I had been sleeping.

"I carried you up here," Nathan said. "Thought you'd be more comfortable."

"Oh…" I said, now feeling the burning sensation of a fevered blush on my cheeks. "Thanks…"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"I think so," I said. "How long was I asleep?"

"All day," Nathan said.

"I…" My eyes danced between Nathan and his mother. Then they fell upon my feet. "Where are my shoes?"

"In there," Nathan said, nodding towards his room. "Why?"

"I should probably head home," I said quietly, as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Riley said, laughing slightly. "It's absolutely horrendous outside. And besides, I already talked to your mother. She's worried about you, but doesn't want you walking home tonight in a storm."

"Are you hungry?" Nathan asked.

"Not really," I mumbled.

"Are you sure you're getting enough to eat, dear?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"Yes… of course," I said. "I'm just not really hungry."

Mrs. Riley straightened herself. She looked at Nathan, and then took a lingering gander at me. Shrugging her shoulders, she moved back through the hallway. She paused for a moment as she passed Nathan. "You keep an eye on him," she said. "And take it easy tonight."

"We'll be fine," Nathan said.

The moment he had gotten the words out of his mouth, a thunderous boom rang throughout the house. Walls rattled. I caught a glimpse of Nathan. A look of surprise coursed through his face. His mother jumped next to him. Then there was nothing but darkness.

"Well that's not good." Nathan's voice carried through the dark, still house.

"I'll find some candles," his mother said. "Sit tight."

It was Saturday. At least I think it was Saturday. It could've been Sunday morning for all I knew. But Nathan and I had been jogging on Saturday mornings since the start of March. We were barely a week into spring and already the storms were hitting hard. This one, in particular, hit hard enough to knock the power out in our entire neighborhood.

Today's events were slowly coming back to me. Our jogging routine explained my attire, and why I had ended up in Nathan's bed for the second time in less than a year. However, I could not explain why I had completely checked out for an entire day; well into the night for that matter. I suddenly felt a warm body growing closer to me.

"You sure you're okay?" Nathan asked quietly.

"I feel okay," I whispered. "I actually feel rested."

"Do you want some water?"

I scarcely recall answering Nathan's question. In fact, I hardly remember a lot of things that day. Somehow he coaxed me back into his room, with the promise that he'd return. Once again I found myself sitting in Nathan Riley's bed. I'm sure some girls would have died to say that. Some girls would have been straight up jealous of me at that moment. But then…

"I'm not a girl," I whispered to the night.

Minutes passed before I heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Here we go," Nathan said, strolling back into the room cautiously. "I got a few candles too."

As I reached out to take the glass, our hands touched. It felt like it lasted longer than it should have. Nathan moved about the room like a cat. One by one he lit several candles. By the time he finished, his room had turned into a myriad of dancing lights. The entire event reminded me of a scene from a movie; where the debonair male lead readies his love nest in a flash before the woman.

Before I knew it, my inward chuckling had thrust itself out of my mouth. With the glass of water at my lips, the sounds of gurgling water filled the silent room. This was followed shortly by coughing, as I'd managed to inhale a rather significant portion of the water. The glass tipped in my hand as I coughed, and in no time the entire front of my shirt was soaked.

"Damn," Nathan said as he stepped towards me. "If I'd known you wanted a shower…"

"Not… funny…" I said between coughs.

"I'll get you a dry one."

"So this is how it starts," I mumbled to myself.

"How what starts?" Nathan asked, while rummaging through his dresser.

My mind suddenly halted, and I panicked for a way to change gears. "What happened today?"

"You tell me," Nathan said, returning to the bed with a clean t-shirt.

"I seem to have more questions than answers these days," I said, taking the shirt from him. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure," Nathan said, handing me a flashlight. "Don't fall in," he added with a smile.

"With my luck…"

I took the flashlight from him, and headed for the bathroom. Once locked inside, I took a long moment to collect myself. I yanked the wet shirt from my body, and draped it over the door to his shower. That little scene made me feel like a child with a sippy cup in front of Nathan. Nothing ever went right when I was with him. Stepping over to the mirror, I examined myself for several minutes. Nothing looked out of place. I felt okay.

Nathan's shirt felt enormous as it fell over my body. I was used to baggy clothes, but two of me could have fit into his shirt. It came halfway down my thighs, and the short sleeves covered half of my forearms. "Am I really that small?" I thought, now looking in the mirror again. I shook my head, and stepped over to the toilet.

"You okay?" Nathan asked, as I stepped out of the bathroom.

"I got a little lost," I said, handing him the flashlight. "And I might have used something other than a towel to dry my hands."

Nathan chuckled, causing me to smile. Soon we were locked in an awkward stare, smiling like a pair of idiots. A light tapping came from Nathan's door. Our smiles were lost in an instant, and we both shifted nervously away from each other. I reached down to scrunch my sweatpants up under my knees. Nathan's mother pushed the door open and peeked inside.

"Make sure you blow these all out before you fall asleep," she said, gesturing toward the candles. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Goodnight mom," Nathan said.

"Goodnight Misses Riley."

"Night you two. Don't stay up too late," she said, before pulling the door closed.

"Your mother is really nice," I said, as I wormed my way around Nathan.

"She is," Nathan said, moving across his room in the opposite direction. "Unless you get on her bad side."

"I can't imagine she has one."

"Everyone has a bad side," Nathan said.

"Even you?" I asked, now facing him.

Nathan turned to face me. His bed stood between us. I watched as he folded his arms across his chest. For a long moment he looked at me. A worried expression covered his face; not unlike my mother's, or even Justin's, face had been lately. And just as an uncomfortable feeling began to rise in my body, Nathan's voice broke the silence.

"Why are you so sad?"

"I'm not sad," I retorted, feeling the need to force a smile. "What makes you think I'm sad?"

Nathan slowly eased himself onto the bed. His back greeted me. "There are no expectations here, Bailey. No judgment."

"Why are you talking like that?" I asked, turning to walk away from him, but soon found myself pacing. "You sound just like…"

A brief moment of silence passed. "Like…?"

"Rajan," I said quietly.

"Your doctor?"

Lightning flashed outside the window, causing me to jump slightly. The rain gathered in intensity. My breathing came in shallow bursts. Like the storm surging outside, I could feel something surging within myself. Without even being aware of it, I thrust my hands to my sides. They balled up into tight fists.

"Why did he have to leave?" I blurted out. "Everyone is leaving. Nothing is the same anymore…" I unclenched my fists, and plopped down on the bed opposite of Nathan. Our backs now faced each other. "He was the only one I trusted in all of this…"

"You can trust me," Nathan said.

I could feel him turning to face me. My hand rose to my lips, and soon I was breathing through the backs of my fingers. I pushed them up through my wavy blonde hair. It had become increasingly thicker, and I'd let it grow perhaps too much. On a windy day I could feel it tickling the middle of my neck.

"There were… things," I said, dropping my hands to my lap. "Things I could talk about with him. But he had to go away just like everyone else."

"Bailey," Nathan said, his voice now closer. "You're not alone. I'm not going anywhere. Justin cares about you. You still have your mom, and Tom seems to be coming around."

"Tom can't be trusted," I said, nearly whispering. "He lies."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's a snake. It's as simple as that."

"Has he done something to you?" Nathan asked; a note of concern peaking in his voice.

"Maybe," I said. "Possibly. Or I could be going crazy."

I pushed myself up further on the bed, and pulled my legs up. Turning in spot I came face to face with Nathan. He was actually closer to me than I had thought. Almost to the point where we bumped heads. The honest truth was that I didn't know if I could fully trust Nathan, but I was starting to run out of options.

"I found a letter," I blurted out. "On Tom's desk. I don't know what it meant. It could've been saying a hundred different things, but it…"

"Whatever you say," Nathan said, "won't leave this room. I promise."

"It was talking about procedures and surgery," I said. "I don't even know if it was about me, or something else entirely. But it was from the other doctor. The one that worked with Rajan. And he hasn't said anything to me…"

"Hey," Nathan said, taking my hand in his. "Slow down a bit."

I glanced down at our hands entwined. Somehow it stirred up images of Tiffany and I, walking down the halls at school. Someone so close that I trusted, and she had turned on me. I cringed at the thought of it happening again; letting someone get close, just to hurt me in the end. Quickly I shook my hand free from Nathan's.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"No," Nathan said. "It's my fault. I was just trying to comfort you."

"I know," I said. "I know… I'm just…" A sigh escaped me. "I've been through too much."

"It's my fault," Nathan said. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"Would you shut up," I said, pushing him away, and pushing myself off of the bed. "Nothing's wrong with you. It's my fault." I began to pace the floor again. "You're great," I said, pointing at him. "You're perfect. It's me…" I stopped pacing, and stared out the window. "I'm the screwed up one," I finished in a whisper.

"You're right," Nathan said, looking over me with furrowed brow.

"What?!" I spun to glare at him.

"Well let's face it," Nathan said. "You've been through too much." He patted the bed in front of him. "You need to let it out, or it will just eat you alive."

With arms folded across my chest, I reluctantly carried myself over to the bed. Nathan held out his hand, and patiently waited. After what seemed like minutes, I forced myself to take his hand. He pulled me gently onto his bed, and then tossed a blanket over my shoulders.

Eventually I stopped fighting with him every step of the way. I embraced the inevitable as he pulled the blanket tightly around my body. With his arms now around me, he pulled me back into his warm body. We moved to lie down as a single entity. I could feel his chest rise and fall against my back. I could feel his warm breath on my hair. I could feel myself relaxing in his arms.

"I don't know what to say," I finally mustered.

"Just say whatever you want," Nathan said, as his hand ran up and down my arm. "I'll listen to it all."

It had been nearly three weeks since that night at Nathan's house. I felt bad about keeping him up until the sun came up, but true to his word, he stayed up and listened to every word I said. It felt good to get my feelings and thoughts out in the open. Even if my suspicions about Tom and Dr. Brooks were completely off base, I was glad to at least share them with someone else. Despite Nathan's suggestion that I might have a problem that requires surgery.

I didn't know what to think of that. It never occurred to me that I might need surgery for my condition. The thought of it frightened me a lot. There were only a few surgeries that I could even think of that would relate to what I was going through. And I tried hard not to think of them now more than ever. I wanted to bring it up, but wasn't sure how I could without revealing I'd been snooping through Tom's personal files. Though Nathan insisted that it was more important to know, I still had my doubts.

Halfway through April already, I had been to see Dr. Brooks several times. He claimed that he wanted to become better acquainted with my situation. However, I feared that he had discovered a problem somewhere along the way, and wanted to keep a closer observation on me. Either way, it was hard to visit him, and see Rajan's empty office. I still couldn't believe he was gone.

I hadn't told Nathan everything though. There were secrets I kept even from him. Secrets I kept from my family. Against my mother's wishes, I had even started to dress a little without telling her. It started the same way it had with Tiffany. I fell into a routine of painting my toenails most days. When I was sure nobody would be around, I even got so bold as to paint my fingernails.

I suppose I can relate all of my problems to that. Because as soon as I began the routine of painting my nails, I started to yearn for more. Soon I had established a secret stash of panties, painstakingly removed from the clothes my mother and I had put away. From there it progressed to tights, jeans, tops and skirts. By the end of March, I was dragging out full outfits to wear around the house.

On an average typical Thursday, in the middle of April, I had decided to drag out yet another of these full outfits. With my nails painted a nice light spring green, I carefully dug through the boxes of clothes. I don't know why I never told my mother. Perhaps I was afraid of being judged, or placed in some category; like a repeat offender. I simply wanted to dress for myself, without the pressure of having anyone else know about it.

So there I stood. My still hairless legs clad in white tights, pulled tightly over a fresh pair of white panties, which I had paired with a simple white padded bra. I never strived to wear anything special. It was simply what came to me, or what I thought would feel comfortable. The weather had dipped, as a cold front had moved through, and tights seemed a logical, comfortable fit. I simply had to decide what to wear with them.

From out of nowhere the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Tom, or my mother, calling to tell me they're on their way home, I rushed to the kitchen. As I made it to the kitchen phone, I realized it wasn't ringing at all. Curiously, I followed the ringing, and ended up outside of Tom's office. The ringing stopped.

"When did Tom get a second line?" I wondered to myself.

Soon an answering machine kicked on. "Tom," said an unassuming, melancholy female voice. "I don't know if you'll get this, but they need you at the warehouse tonight. Something got screwed up with the order forms, and we're getting the shipment early. Get down here as soon as possible." The message cut out with the click of a phone, and a loud beep from the machine.

"Wonder what that was about," I said out loud.

A sharp wrapping on the glass to our back door nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around quickly, holding my hand over my heart. As my hand moved over the bra beneath it, I suddenly remembered how I was dressed. A feeling of insecurity and utter horror washed over me. There on the other side of the glass, with a perfect full-window view, stood Nancy; her chubby face full of wonder and cheerfulness.

Next to Nancy stood Carla, with her own look of disbelief stretched across her tan face. Between them both, standing about two feet behind, stood a rather amused, and giggling Jillian. Before I could run screaming, Nancy gestured at the door handle. My hand slowly moved over the exposed parts of my body, in an insane attempt to cover myself. I really couldn't think of anything to say or do, that would remotely change this situation. How had they managed to pick that exact moment to traipse across two yards and end up at my back door?

"Come on, Bailey," Nancy said, seeming somewhat sympathetic now. "Open the door."

"Let us in," Jillian chimed in, now over her giggles. "It's cold."

I looked them over for a moment. Carla and Nancy had on shorts, tank tops, and flip-flops, and stood shivering. While Jillian seemed to be dressed a little warmer, in cargo pants and a polo shirt, she too looked a little cold. Swallowing my pride, along with the lump in my throat, I reached for the lock on the door handle. Soon the familiar whoosh of the sliding glass door greeted me, and the girls pushed inside nearly in a pile.

"Hi Bailey," Nancy said, smiling pleasantly while moving to the side.

Carla smiled at me, and rubbed her upper arms to warm up. "Thanks," she said. "I think I should have worn a sweatshirt."

Jillian pushed through last, and pulled the door shut behind her. Then she quickly pulled the blinds shut. "You're not exactly careful are you?" she asked, gesturing at my attire. "There is such a thing as modesty."

"Well I didn't expect anyone to show up at my back door," I said.

"Still…" Nancy said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You shouldn't be running around in your underwear in front of windows."

"I was in the middle of getting dressed," I said, before realizing what I was admitting.

"Don't let us stop you," Carla said, offering me a reassuring smile.

"Girls," Jillian interrupted. "Shoes off. It's pretty wet out there."

I watched for a moment as they all kicked off their shoes. Nancy and Carla basically stumbled out of their flip-flops. Jillian had the worst of it, trying to get the wet laces untied on her rather girly hiking boots. Before long she glanced up at me, and gave me an awkward look.

"Seriously," she said, "go put some clothes on."

"Which?" I asked, rattled slightly.

"I don't care what you wear," Jillian said with a chuckle.

"I think what our friend here is trying to say," Nancy said, putting her arm around my shoulders. "Is which gender."

"Oh…" Jillian said, finally pulling her boot off. "It doesn't matter to us, Bailey," she said facing me. "We're not here to force you into anything."

"Whatever's comfortable," Carla chimed in.

"However you feel," Nancy said, pulling me in for a friendly hug. "We just came to hang out with you."

"So you girls are…" I paused, searching for the right words. "We're cool?"

"Of course, silly," Jillian said.

"We kind of suspected," Nancy said. "You're not that good at hiding the obvious."

"But you pick a heck of a way to let the cat out of the bag," Carla said, playfully pinching my exposed abdomen.

"Okay…" I said, slipping away from Nancy. "Make yourselves at home." I moved to the opposite end of the kitchen. "Have a drink if you'd like."

"Actually," Carla said, following me into the hallway. "We were wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place."

"Sure…" I said. "I guess that's okay."

Jillian followed Carla and started looking around the house. "What were you doing anyway?" she asked. "Just walking around like that."

"The phone rang in my stepfather's office," I called back to her.

"Speaking of phones," Jillian said, now extremely close behind me. "Did you lose my number?"

I spun around to find her a foot away. "I'm sorry I never called," I said. "I've been having a bit of a rough time."

"Are you sure it wasn't that you were too busy dressing like a girl?" she asked, reaching out and adjusting one of my bra straps. "I bet you get carried away with it, and lose all track of time."

"I…" Slowly I backed into my room.

Jillian followed. "I? What is it Bailey?"

"The thing with Tiffany," I stammered.

"Yeah?" Jillian placed her hand on my chest, and gently pushed me into the room. "Do you miss her?" Her other hand reached back to shut my door.

"Honestly?"

Jillian nodded, while backing away to lean against the door.

"Sometimes I do," I said. "But at times I wonder why we were even together."

"Get dressed while we talk," Jillian said, motioning at my closet. "You two didn't get along?"

"We got along great," I said, kneeling in front of the boxes of clothes. "I just think she started liking the idea of me being a girl over what we actually had."

"Which was what?" Jillian asked. "Holding hands and kissing?"

I paused my rummaging through the boxes. "Well when you put it like that," I said, chuckling. "I guess we really didn't have some deep tragic love story."

"It still hurts," Jillian said, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. "Go with the shorts."

I found myself taking her advice, and standing up with a pair of jean shorts. Slowly I stepped into them, and slid them up the white tights. I had seen girls wear shorts with tights a hundred times, but never thought to do it myself. They seemed a bit more snug than I remembered. Fastening the buttons, I turned my head to glance at Jillian. She gave a nodding approval.

"I think I miss hanging out with her more than being with her," I said, ending the statement with air quotes.

"So hang out with her," Jillian said.

"I just can't get the image of her and Vince out of my head."

"Vince Simmons?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Green top," Jillian said nonchalantly. "It matches your nails." Her head tilted to the side. "And Vince Simmons is a tool." For a moment Jillian watched me slip the top on. "Can I offer some friendly advice?" she finally asked, though it wasn't really a question. "Don't take this personally. I think you're a nice person. Maybe too nice. And I think that's why a lot of girls see you as friends only material."

"That was advice?" I asked, slumping into my chair.

"I'm not finished," Jillian said, moving over to my shoe box. "Most girls our age, me included, are starting to think about boys. And when we think of boys, we're not thinking of boys who dress like girls."

"You can give the advice any time now," I said, sighing at her somewhat hurtful candor.

"Believe it or not," Jillian said, "I'm trying to help."

"By crushing my dignity?"

Jillian stood up abruptly, thrusting a pair of black boots toward me. They were low cut, flat, imitation Doc Martins. "No!" she said sharply. "I'm trying to tell you that you can have dignity another way. It might even be better that you do."

I snatched the boots from her hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Embrace this," Jillian said, gesturing at me. "All of it." She moved her hand in a sweeping gesture over my boxes of clothes.

"Dressing like a girl?"

Jillian shook her head. "I'm not saying that. Though that is a large part of it." She paused to look me over. "I mean to embrace your girly side more."

"I don't even know what that means," I said, slipping my foot into one of the boots.

For a long moment Jillian stared at me. I could tell she was trying to think of the best way to say what she wanted to say. Then she just said it; honestly, openly, and quite bluntly. "You're more girl than boy at this point. Nobody is even telling you to, or asking you to dress. You've been without Tiffany for months, and at first I thought it was her pushing you to do it, but you're doing it on your own now. I've even seen you with boys, and it's like you're a natural with them. More than you are with girls."

"Wait a second!" I said, standing up in her face. "I don't like where this is going at all. I do not like boys!"

"Hold your horses," Jillian said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not saying to go chasing after boys. In fact… 'don't do that,' would be my advice there." She took a deep breath. "I'm saying when you're out there," she nodded toward my window, "away from pressure. Just being yourself. You look more comfortable in your own skin than most girls do. The pool party. The modeling. The fall festival." She looked into my eyes. "The Halloween party…"

"I may have looked comfortable, but that was far from the truth," I said meekly. "Dancing with Vince wasn't my idea."

"You were a natural," Jillian said, quietly. "It's like instinct took over. Regardless if you like boys or not, you had them wrapped around your finger. Most girls can't even pull that off."

"So you're saying I should be a girl."

"No," Jillian said, as she took my hands and pulled me from my chair. "I'm saying you are already a girl. And you should embrace that."

"Let's go," Nancy said, bursting into the room. She paused to look around, and then her eyes fell on me. "Cool room. Though I kind of expected a more girlish touch to it."

"Are we going?" Carla asked from behind Nancy.

"Are we?" Jillian asked quietly as she looked at me.

"Yeah," I said, suddenly finding myself smiling. "Let's get out of here."

I started to follow the others out of my room, when Jillian turned and stopped me. She slapped a small pink tube in my hand. "Lip gloss," she said with a wink. "Can't leave home without it."

Before long we were out of my house, and rushing across our neighbors yards. We didn't stop until we hit Carla's house. That entire afternoon I tried to make a conscious effort to evaluate my own experiences. I wanted to see if Jillian's words rang true. For some reason I wanted to disprove her, no matter what it took. After all, she barely knew me. Where did she come off saying I was a girl?

And so I studied my behavior. I took note of my actions and thoughts. My grand plan was to write everything down later in my journal. How I ate, drank, talked, walked, laughed, or even showed other emotions; they would all be my focus that day. However, as the afternoon dragged on, I forgot all about my experiment. I stopped focusing on the small things, and began to really have a good time.

"So you went to a spa with your mom?" Nancy asked, taking a sip of soda through a straw.

"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of soda myself. "It was actually pretty nice."

"My mom hasn't even done that," Nancy pouted.

"They did my nails and everything," I said.

"Lucky…" Nancy said. "Getting my nails done consists of a drive to the drug store for press-ons."

Jillian walked in the room with a bottle of cherry soda. She plopped down on the sofa next to me, and swung her legs up and into my lap. This had been done before at Tracy's party by Vanessa. Apparently there was a universal truth to girls simply lounging on each other. Though I hardly expected Jillian to do it to me. I nearly dropped my own drink, and the whole scene caused Carla to start giggling.

"What's with her?" I asked.

"Low sugar tolerance," Nancy said, rolling her eyes.

"So when are you going to come back and model for 'Tweens?" Jillian asked.

"I don't know," I said. "That was fun, but mostly because Tiffany was there with me."

"I'll do it with you," Jillian said.

"Me too!" Carla said, expectantly.

"You really think I could get away with that again?" I asked.

"Easily," Jillian said. "But you might have to let one more person in on your secret."

"Your sister?"

"Oh God, no," Jillian said, laughing. "She already knows. I was talking about Dylan."

"Ugh," I said quite emphatically. "Not Dylan." Just the thought of him knowing turned my stomach. "Wait!" I sat up a bit straighter. "How does Casey know?!"

"Duh," Jillian said. "She's friends with Kate." She took a sip of soda. "You're lucky you're not in high school yet, because half of the senior class knows about you."

I sat there for a moment with my jaw open. To think that that many people knew about me worried me. Tiffany's big mouth was bad enough, but I never concluded that her sister would be a hundred times worse. Suddenly I felt Jillian's foot on my knee, and she was rocking it back and forth. I turned to see a huge smile on her face.

"Relax!" Jillian said. "We don't have to tell Dylan." She winked at me. "And I was just kidding about Casey. She knew when you came back to buy that dress."

"Oh my gosh!" Nancy blurted out. "You go shopping for clothes too?!"

"Where else is she going to get them?" Jillian asked.

Nancy just sat and blinked.

"We've so gotta take you shopping with us," Carla said.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, holding my hand up. "Let's not rush this whole thing."

"She's right," Jillian said. "We just got her out of her house today. Let's not push it."

Carla started giggling uncontrollably. So much so, that she snorted. By the time Nancy turned to look at her, Carla had started coughing uncontrollably. She set her drink down and waved her hands in the air. Then started patting her chest.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"It's just…" Carla tried to get her breathing under control. Her words came in rushed, staggered breaths. "She keeps referring to Bailey in feminine pronouns."

"What's wrong with that?" Jillian asked. "Bailey's a total girl." She looked right into my eyes. "Aren't you Bailey?"

Even if I wanted to, I could not hide my true feelings. Fire spread throughout my cheeks, flaring up so bad I could feel it in my temples. I felt flush, and could hardly control my breathing. Nothing except an actual mask could mask my blush at that moment. Then I realized I couldn't even argue against Jillian's assessment.

"I… I guess so," I stammered.

"Bailey…" Jillian said, now serious. She pushed her foot into my thigh. "You have to start being honest with yourself."

"You're with friends here," Nancy said, reaching up and grabbing my knee.

Carla simply looked lost as to what was going on around her, but she managed to nod in agreement with Nancy. "Totally," she said casually.

"Honestly…" I said, straightening myself again. "I feel lost most of the time."

"Join the club," Carla murmured.

"Let her finish," Jillian said, in a scolding tone. She reached up and gave me a gentle tug on my shirt sleeve. "Go on, Bailey."

I took a sip of soda and cleared my throat. "This is one of the few times that I haven't felt pressured by anyone," I said. "I mean… I feel pressured to talk right now, but I don't feel I was pressured into dressing, or having to be a girl." I looked at each of the other girls thoughtfully. "I thought Jill pushed a little earlier for me to dress, but then I realized I had already started before you girls even showed up."

"You were already halfway there," Jillian said, rocking my leg with her foot again. "I just helped you pick the rest of your outfit."

I smiled at her, and put my hand on her knee. "I've been looking for every excuse to deny it since then," I said. "I wanted to disprove what you said to me earlier. In fact, I've been wanting to disprove myself for the last two months." I took a few deep breaths. "The truth is… I can't. This is natural. This… feels… natural."

"What feels natural?" Nancy asked.

"Being a girl," I said, meekly.

Jillian gave me an abrupt shove with her foot. "Embrace it," she said, smiling.

"I…" I took another deep breath. "I'm a girl."

Jillian pushed herself toward me. She threw her arms around me, and gave me a big hug. Before I knew it, all three of the girls were hugging me. Although I'm fairly sure Carla still had no clue what had transpired. However, the words I had said rang true, just as they had when Jillian had said them. I knew how I truly felt now. I knew I was a girl.

With that knowledge in my head, and two more sodas in me, I walked home in high spirits; or at least high on sugar. I knew how I felt now, but I didn't know what to do with it. Saying it, and believing it were one thing, but actualizing it was a dilemma in itself. Nearly a week away from turning thirteen, I still had a lot to figure out. The first thing I needed to figure out was how to explain myself to my mother and Tom.

And that moment came fast, as I slid the back door open. There at the kitchen table sat Tom, along with my mother. The look on her face brought to mind something very important that I had neglected. Something I was wearing, and had been wearing for weeks. Something that was no longer hidden.

"Where have you been?" Tom asked.

My mother rose from her chair and came over to hug me. "We've been worried sick."

As I looked past my mother, I could get a perfect view of Tom. His face appeared like one of those cartoon characters where their head was about to erupt in steam. I pictured his ugly crew cut scalp rising above his head and spinning like a top. It took all of my resolve to not crack a smile at this thought. I knew from past experiences that I needed to answer his question sooner rather than later.

"I was at Carla's house," I said, as my mother released me from her embrace. "We were just hanging out."

"Who's Carla?" my mother asked.

"Hanging out…" Tom muttered. "Do you have any idea…"

"Tom," my mother said calmly. "Go easy."

Tom looked as if the sharp breath of air he took in could kill him. Letting it out, he casually pushed his hands against the table top. "I came home today," Tom said. "Found the backdoor unlocked, and your room looking as if it had been ransacked." He tilted his head to the side. "And you weren't here. Neither is your brother. What was I supposed to think? Especially after your episode at Nathan's house."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "They showed up without warning, and I…"

"Who are they?" my mother asked, as she ran her hand over my hair.

"Three girls I go to school with," I said.

Tom's brow furrowed. "Bailey," he said rather calmly. "When you dress… do you feel and act like a girl?"

My mother looked down at me. Her face appeared as one mixed with reassurance and expectation. She nodded. I took a deep breath.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Sometimes I feel like one without the clothes though."

"That's okay, sweetie," my mother said. "It's okay to have those feelings."

"But that's not why I'm asking," Tom said, standing up. "I'm asking, because it's hard for me to know what to think, Bailey." He slowly walked over to the sink and refilled his glass with water. "If you're out there…" He gestured through the window. "Dressed like you are now. Feeling like a girl. Acting like a girl." He turned to look at me. "Being a girl…"

"I think what Tom is trying to say," my mother said, taking my face in her hands. "Is when you're out there as a girl, we have no choice but to think of you in those terms."

"It's a different circumstance," Tom said. "Call me old-fashioned, but boys can usually handle themselves. I worry about you and Justin regardless. But girls out alone… Things can happen." He sighed inwardly, and rubbed the back of his neck. "And it's almost dark too. What were you thinking?"

"Could you at least let us know where you are?" my mother asked.

I nodded slowly. My mother's hands moved from my face, and she pulled me in for another hug. I wrapped my arms around her waist. Tom moved back to the kitchen table and sat down. Eventually my mother dropped her embrace. She stepped aside and pointed at an empty chair. I reluctantly moved to sit down.

"Now," my mother said. "I think the bigger issue here, is why did you hide that you were dressing again?"

"I don't know…"

"That's not good enough," Tom said, raising his voice. "If you could just be honest with us for one second…"

"Tom," my mother scolded. She waited a moment for Tom to relax. Then she sat down between us at the table. "We want to help you," she said, putting her hand on mine. "But we need to know what it is you need from us."

Now felt like as good a time as any to let my true feelings out. I'd been holding it back for months now. "I need Rajan back," I blurted out. "I don't like Doctor Brooks."

Tom's head dropped. "Dinesh is gone, Bailey," Tom said mundanely. "His family needed him back home." He lifted his head up. "And what's wrong with Brooks?"

"He's creepy," I said, for lack of a better description.

"Creepy?" Tom said, flabbergasted. "How is he creepy?"

"I don't know," I said. "I just don't feel comfortable with him."

"We can find another doctor," my mother said, patting my hand.

Tom let out a slight groan. He turned to my mother. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Dinesh in the first place?" he asked. "Brooks knows Bailey's case. He's on the same insurance…"

"We can manage," my mother said, hiding her face from my view. "I think Bailey needs someone more specialized. And it might do some good to find another therapist." She paused for a moment. "Possibly for all of us?"

Tom's head tilted toward her. I watched as his eyes rolled up to meet hers. His jaws moved as he appeared to be mulling it over. In the silence I could hear the wind outside. Then out of the silence, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on the entryway stairs.

"I'm home!" Justin yelled. "Anyone here?"

Tom slammed his hands on the table, and pushed himself up from his chair. He spun and stomped into the living room. "Where in the hell were you all afternoon?" he nearly shouted.

"Out," Justin replied.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Tom said loudly. "It's almost nine on a school night."

"I was just out with friends," Justin said. "Chill."

"I should knock your smartass back down those stairs," Tom said.

"What the hell's your problem?" Justin asked.

"Your bullshit answers for one," Tom said. "And your attitude for another."

Immediately my mother pushed herself into the living room, injecting herself into the situation. "Tom…" She moved between Justin and Tom, but remained focused on my stepfather. "We all need to cool off here." She paused for a moment to think. "You needed to do something at work," she finally said. "Why don't you go and do that?"

Tom glanced back and forth for a moment between my mother and Justin. Then he looked back over his shoulder at me. Suddenly he seemed more relaxed. His eyes filled with worry, and his whole demeanor changed. For the briefest of moments I saw something in Tom that I had never seen before. He was a wounded man. Then it was gone, as he rushed over to the living room table.

"I don't know why I bother," Tom muttered. "It doesn't matter what I say, Susan. They'll never get it."

My mother moved over and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'll talk to them," she said.

"Susan," Tom said as he straightened himself. "You have two bright kids here." He raised his eyebrows. "But neither one of them is smart enough to pick up a damn phone."

"We were both kids once too," my mother said, quietly as she rubbed his upper arm.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Justin blurted out. "I'm home before curfew."

"Justin," my mother chided. "Zip it."

Tom looked like he was ready to punch another hole in the wall. "I don't have time to argue this shit," he finally said, desperately holding back his anger. He held up his wallet, pointing it at Justin. "You come home after school. Period. Or I'll take the damn car away." He turned to face me, putting his wallet in his back pocket. "And you," he said a little less hostile. "Home after school. And you wait until one of us is home before you run off somewhere, or at least leave a damn note. I wanna know where you both are. So I don't come home and think the worst has happened."

Tom grabbed his keys as he passed through the living room. He stopped to face me in particular one more time. "I am really disappointed you've been keeping this a secret," he said, gesturing at my attire. "I don't care if you come home and parade around in panties with curlers in your hair. But you could've at least told your mother like she asked." He shook his head. "I have to go."

"Drive safe, Tom," my mother said, as Tom pulled away from her.

"What about spring training?" Justin asked, as our stepfather pushed past him.

"That's the only damn thing you better be doing after school for awhile," Tom said, before descending the stairs. He paused to look back at us one last time, before opening the door and leaving.

For a moment we all stood in silence, staring at the front door. I felt horrible keeping my dressing from my mother. A simple promise had been broken between us, and I could tell she was extremely disappointed. Yet behind it all I could sense she was upset about something else entirely. Whatever that was, she kept it well hidden as she turned to look at me and smile

"Bailey…" she said quietly. "Run and get a jacket." She looked at Justin. "We're going out to eat."

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 2

My body slumped against the wall like a bag of laundry. The sound of distant rushing water roared in my ears. A sharp, searing pain resonated from the back of my head, and as I reached back I could feel a chalky substance fall from my hair. Somewhere, perhaps far away, perhaps closer, I heard a male voice yelling at me. A dull throbbing ache ran through my body, as I reached for the handle of the door.

"And that's all you remember?"

The husky voice of Doctor Brooks was something I wished I could forget. I peered past the intrusive light being flashed across my eyes. A pair of misty gray eyes gazed back at me; framed by wrinkles and cheap looking wire glasses. His eyebrows, peppered with gray like his hair, raised in a curious gesture. It was hard to hide my disdain, as my eyes sluggishly moved back to look at Tom.

"Then he brought me here," I said, deliberately trying to express my disapproval at coming back to this office.

"I thought it might be the medication," Tom said, running a hand over his brown burr-cut hair.

"Well it might be," Dr. Brooks said, standing over me now. "Especially considering it's happened twice now." His hands started gently combing away the hair at the spot I hit my head on the wall. "It's been known to cause drowsiness, fatigue, and sometimes dizziness."

"I don't remember being tired at all," I mumbled.

"Did you feel any pain beforehand?" Dr. Brooks asked, placing one hand firmly on my shoulder. "Soreness in your neck?"

His hand began to slowly massage my shoulder, making me shift uncomfortably. "No," I said quietly. "I don't remember anything." I looked at Tom with pleading eyes, but he seemed oblivious.

Doctor Brooks moved back around to sit across from me. "Are you having any other issues?" His hand now rested firmly over my knee, and I could feel his fingers start to drum at my thigh. "Moodiness? Loss of appetite?"

"None of that," I said, jerking my knee slightly.

Doctor Brooks smiled, and patted my thigh before he got back up. "Well we can adjust the dosage," he said, grabbing a clipboard. "I don't want to see this becoming worse."

I looked directly at Tom. "You didn't tell him?"

"Tell me what, dear?" Dr. Brooks asked.

"We've been…" Tom cleared his throat. "We're going to be looking for another specialist."

"Oh," Dr. Brooks said, trying unconvincingly to hide his disappointment. "I see." He started scribbling on the clipboard. "I don't blame you. Doctor Dinesh was good at what he did." He looked up at Tom. "I can send you a few recommendations, if you'd like?"

"That would help," Tom said.

"I'd hate to see you go though," Dr. Brooks said, as he genuinely looked upset at me. "Did you want me to cancel this appointment next week?"

"No," Tom said, much to my chagrin. "We might need to come back here one more time."

"Okay," Dr. Brooks said, smiling now. "I'll make a note here." He looked at me over the top of his glasses. "I don't think you have a concussion, but I suggest you take it easy for awhile." After a few quick scribbles on a pad, he handed me a note. "This will get you out of gym class, or anything strenuous." Then he clicked his pen. "Anything else, just call me at home Tom."

"Thanks," Tom said, nodding. "You ready kiddo?"

I really started to question how hard I hit my head now. Tom never called me "kiddo" before. Usually it was my name, or in the past, one of many insulting terms like "sissy" or "pansy." Sometimes it was simply, "get your ass in here." Lately he had been rather civil towards me, and it started to wear down my preconceptions about him. He no longer had a derogatory comment when he saw me dressed in female attire either.

"Are you hungry?" Tom asked, as we pulled away from the doctor's office.

"I'm starving," I said. "I was actually going to cook something before I passed out."

"Oh yeah?" Tom glanced at me. "Your mom been teaching you?"

"A little," I said.

"You like it?"

"It's fun I guess," I said, reluctantly. I braced myself for the inevitable insults to come flying my way.

"That's good," Tom said. "Better to learn it from her, at any rate. She's a far better cook than me. That's for sure." He glanced over at me again. "How's school?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You ever patch things up with… oh… what's her name…"

"Tiffany?"

"Yeah," Tom said. "How's Tiffany?"

"We're just friends now," I said. "Awkward friends…"

"I know what that's like," Tom said. "Listen… I need to go by the shop for something. Do you think you can hang in there if we grab something to eat?" He looked over at me. "You can stay in the truck. It won't take long."

"I feel fine, really."

"Alright," Tom said. "I feel like some tacos. That sound good to you?"

"Sure," I said.

Nearly a half hour later we pulled into Tom's shop. Actually it wasn't entirely his shop, but a significant portion of the building belonged to his business. While his semi truck detailing business had never been a gold mine, it had earned him a steady income over the years. Recently he had formed a rather lucrative business deal with Trevor James. I never knew all the details about it, but the deal had opened up his business to clean semi trailers as well. This brought a lot more income to the table.

The orange glow of streetlights seemed like unwelcome guests along the outskirts of downtown. Tom's shop seemed rather busy for this time of night. I could see light pouring from one of the bays where they pulled in the trucks. Tom pulled into a rather dark area of the parking lot, and grabbed the bag of food next to him. After producing a taco from the bag, he leaned over me and locked my door.

"Just stay in here, and keep the doors locked. Alright?"

I nodded quietly. Then watched as Tom opened his door and slid out of the truck. He strolled across the parking lot toward the lit up bay. As he neared the door, another man stepped out of the bay. His motions seemed spastic, like he was tightly strung. Tom appeared to be calming him down, when another man walked out. This one wore a cowboy hat.

For a lengthy while the three of them conversed. Every so often they would point at the back of the trailer sitting in the bay. Then the man with the hat looked directly at Tom's truck, and lifted his hand to motion at it. He seemed irate now, and motioned at the first guy to close the back door on the trailer. Afterwards he stormed off back into the building.

Tom hurried across the parking lot. I reached across to unlock his door. He yanked the door open, hopped in, and then slammed the door hard. For a moment I sat and watched him, afraid to say anything. My body had subconsciously scooted to the other side of the cab. After a short while passed, Tom reached up and started the truck.

"What was that about?" I asked quietly.

"Huh?!" Tom looked over at me, as if surprised to see me sitting there. Then he looked back at the building. "That? Nothing…"

"They seemed pretty pissed."

He turned to me again. "Watch your language," he said, raising a finger to point at me. Turning back to face the building, he put his truck in gear.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my seatbelt on.

We pulled out of the parking lot, and started heading home. For several minutes I stared out my window in silence. I never saw downtown much. It wasn't as big as something like New York City, or anything, but it seemed huge at my age. In the distance I could see the busier areas, with clubs and shops. One day I wanted to explore it all.

"We took on too much work…" Tom finally said.

I turned to look at him. "And they were mad about that?"

Tom chuckled. "No… They were mad I wasn't there helping out."

"Oh…"

"They were even less happy when I told them you were with me, and had to get you home."

"I could've stayed there," I said quietly. "Helped you out a little."

Tom glanced at me and smiled. "You're supposed to be taking it easy. Besides… I don't want you around those guys. They're a bad influence." He rested his elbow against the window, and his hand against his head. "You really had me worried today."

"I'm still not even sure what happened," I said, looking back out the window.

"From what I gather," Tom said, "you passed out at the sink, and hit your head on the wall."

"Did I ruin the wall?"

Tom chuckled again. "Nothing that can't be fixed. You can watch how to fix it if you want." He glanced over at me again, and let out a sigh. "Bet you were pretty scared though, huh?"

"Apparently it's far worse standing up," I said.

"Yeah…" Tom said. "We'll take it easy tonight, and keep an eye on you."

I spent the rest of that night on the couch with my mother. We stayed up watching old movies on cable. At least my mother stayed up. Every so often I would doze off, curled up under a blanket with my head on her lap. She woke me every so often, in case I really did have a concussion.

By the next day, everything seemed to have returned to normal. At least I thought it had. Given the choice to return to school, or stay home, I had foolishly chosen school. I felt sluggish, and slightly out of it halfway through the day. There were times where I simply tuned out what was going on. One of my teachers tried to call me out on it, but luckily my answer to her question was enough to please her.

I even tuned out Carla and Nancy at lunch. When they prodded me about it, I explained what had happened. In my opinion, that made it worse. Not only did it garner unwanted sympathy, but they also changed their whole conversation to make me feel involved. All day long I had simply just wanted to be left alone. Yet people kept finding ways to include me.

The one time of the day where I finally felt I would be isolated was in gym class. After showing my coach the note from the doctor, he gave me a cross look. Then he gave me a brief lecture about not wanting anyone slacking off in his class, and handed me a clipboard. Clipped to it was a sheet of fifteen questions. Each question had something to do with sports, and a blank area to write in answers. Then he handed me a pen, and told me to stay on the bleachers.

Luckily I hadn't missed anything special. We were inside that day, playing coed dodge ball. Though it seemed more like a game of the girls hiding behind things, while the boys threw the balls as hard as they could. I purposely sat behind the coaches. My thought was if anyone was brave enough to target me there, then they really had it out for me.

I found myself fascinated, however, at watching everyone play from the outside. Usually you were too concerned with your own safety to even watch the chaotic nature of the game. At the start of each match, it was almost always the same kids running up to grab the balls. They were what I would consider the rowdy types, who threw caution to the wind. Then there seemed to be a small group who always stayed well clear of that group, but would participate once the crowd had been thinned out. The last group of kids found themselves hanging around the back, or trying to hide. They were either terrified of the game, or simply didn't want to be a part of it.

Thinking back, I had always been in that first group. I had always rushed in. Sometimes it failed, and sometimes I found success. Anymore, though, I felt I would be somewhere in the middle. I felt I'd fit in somewhere amongst the chaos, but would be waiting for my moment. It seemed like my life in a lot of ways; chaotic, yet I'd learned to take a step back to reevaluate things.

As I thought about this, and gazed over the line of "out" people along the wall, a loud thump sounded from the middle of the gym floor. My eyes shot over to the source of the sound. There, sprawled out on the floor near the half court line, lay a dark-haired girl. Most of the movement near her had ceased, yet kids continued to play on the far side of the gym. I watched as she was slowly helped up and brought over to the bleachers.

The girls' coach stood between us, as she looked over the girl. For a moment they conversed, and finally her coach pointed back towards me. As soon as they parted, I instantly recognized the girl. She slowly walked up the steps of the bleachers with a slight limp. I shuffled nervously as she drew closer to me. Finally she eased herself down on the seat in front of me, pulling her left leg up onto the seat to study it.

"Are you okay?" I said, underneath the roar of the gymnasium.

The girl rubbed her hip for a moment in silence. Then she looked up at me. Her hazel eyes were laced with a glimmer of defiance. "I'm fine," she said.

"I didn't see what happened."

"Some jerk hit my leg out from under me while I was jumping," she said. "I landed on my hip."

"Sorry," I offered.

"For what?" Her eyes shot up again to look me in the eyes. "You didn't do anything."

My eyes dropped from her gaze, and back to my list of questions. I had barely started on my assignment. It was probably a good time to continue working on it. Obviously the girl next to me was in no mood to talk. Though I still couldn't help taking quick glances at her. I felt concerned for her safety. Eventually she got up with a huff, and started to walk back to the gym floor.

"Tiffany," I said, drawing her attention.

"What?"

I looked at her face for a moment. She had this look of determination, mixed with slight pain and tiny hint of expectation. My lips curled slightly into a friendly smile. "Be careful."

Tiffany's brow twitched in unison with her lips. Her mouth parted slightly. Then she simply returned the smile. "Thanks," she said, before scurrying back down the bleachers.

"Stupid…" I muttered under my breath, as I returned to my worksheet.

"How about this one?"

Jillian Wilcox reached across my bed, slapping a catalog down. She had it opened to a page featuring a young girl, close to our age, modeling a light blue summer dress. It featured a stitch of floral decoration close to the hem, and a ribbon of the same design tied in the back. The sleeves were slightly ruffled and barely extended, from the simple portrait neckline, over the girl's shoulders. Suddenly the image was blocked completely by silky black hair.

"Looks a bit too dressy," Tawny Simmons said, looking up at Jillian. "No pun intended."

"Well that's the point," Jillian said. "It's for a stupid business get together."

"I kind of like it," I said. "Not so much the bow in the back, but I like the rest of it."

"Well that can easily be altered," Tawny said, holding up two fingers in the motion of scissors.

"I'll just go with the yellow one," Jillian said.

She started to pull the catalog away, but I stopped her. "What about this one?"

My finger rested on another dress two pages over. The smiling blonde looked delighted to be in the light green frock. Another portrait neckline, though sleeveless, this dress darted in at the waist, and then quickly back out into a full skirt. Unlike the previous dresses, this one had a few layers of chiffon beneath the skirt. It made the entire skirt sort of shimmer as the different layers blended above her knees.

Jillian spun the catalog around. "That's not bad," she said after a moment.

"I think you'd look good in it," Tawny added.

Jillian circled the corresponding letter with a red marker. Then she flipped a few more pages. "What about this one?"

This had been going on for nearly an hour. We had combed through about ten catalogs, and had even revisited a few. Jillian definitely gave me an entirely new perspective on how girls shop. I had never had the privilege of catalog shopping, or had the opportunity to browse extensively in the mall, for that matter. Surprisingly enough, Tawny, of all people, was right in there with us.

Jillian and Tawny knew each other from art club. I wouldn't exactly say they were friends. Jillian was in eighth grade, while Tawny was in seventh with me. So I took a chance having them both over at the same time. Fortunately we had been drawn together by a common interest. Although I was a little out of my league catalog shopping, the two of them took advantage of every opportunity to include me.

"I don't know," Tawny said. "Purple is a little bold."

"Speaking of bold," Jillian said. "Can you believe Matt wanted to change our end of the year project like that?"

"Oh, I know," Tawny said. "And halfway through it too!"

"What's that?" I asked.

Jillian sat up and looked at me with her turquoise eyes. "It's like this. We have three groups," she said. "Each of us have an end of the year project about school pride."

"They're going to be put in the display case the last week of school," Tawny chimed in.

"Well ours was taking portraits of our group," Jillian said. "And then drawing in what we're all doing on a banner."

"Like the guy I'm drawing," Tawny said, "is running down the hall like he's late for class. So I drew the guy running, with papers trailing behind him from his locker. And then we'll put someone's photo as his face."

"Oh," I said. "That sounds kind of cool."

"Well Matt wanted to scrap it," Jillian said. "He wanted to make like little clay trophies instead." She gestured some obscure figure shape with her hands. "Or some action figure thing."

"Like we have the time to go back and do that," Tawny said, rolling her bright green eyes.

"He's so annoying," Jillian said, sitting back with another catalog.

"Totally," Tawny said. "But he's kind of cute," she added nonchalantly.

"I guess so," Jillian said, flipping another page as if she was frustrated at the combination of those two statements. "If you're into that type of guy."

"Who wouldn't be?" Tawny asked, as if to nobody in particular.

Jillian simply shrugged, though I could recognize a distinct, yet subtle, flushing of her cheeks.

At a loss for words, I gathered up another catalog. For several minutes we all flipped through catalogs. Occasionally getting an opinion on another dress we'd found. Eventually it strayed from finding a new dress for Jillian, to finding new dresses for each of us. The consensus from both girls had me placed in a rather bold summer dress featuring a mixed blue floral print over a light orange background.

"I think it would definitely make a statement," Tawny said.

"What do you think, Misses Walker?" Jillian asked, catching my mother walking down the hallway.

"About what?" my mother asked, as she stepped into the doorway.

Jillian bounced from my bed. She stepped over to my mother, and held the catalog up. "We thought Bailey would look good in this," she said, pointing at the dress.

My mother glanced at the catalog, and then at me. After studying my face for a moment, she looked more closely at the catalog. "I don't know…" she said. "I think red is more her color, but I could see her in orange." She looked back at me, smiling. "But I don't think she has shoes to match."

"Oh shoes!" Jillian exclaimed, running back to the bed. "I didn't even think about shoes."

Tawny joined her with another catalog. She already had it flipped to the shoe section. In a matter of seconds they were looking for shoes to match the dresses they had circled. I watched them for a moment and sighed. Then I looked back at my doorway. My mother gave me a wink, making me return her smile.

"I'll be ordering pizza soon," she said. "Anything in particular?"

"I'm fine with whatever," Tawny said.

"Pepperoni?" Jillian asked, looking back and forth between my mother and me.

"Sure," my mother said, turning to walk away. "I'll let you get back to it."

"Your mom's really nice," Jillian said, looking back down at a catalog. "We hardly ever get pizza at my house."

A long while back, I had started to get the impression that Jillian didn't get much of anything, and hardly got to do anything. This became increasingly evident when the majority of her stories consisted of working for 'Tweens, or handing stuff out in the mall. While I'm sure some kids wouldn't mind a job at fourteen, it worried me that Jillian had been helping out her family's business since she was twelve. Granted it wasn't hard labor, or anything, but I'm sure it had it's effects on her social life. Most Fridays she was at the mall handing out coupons and fliers, rather than hanging out at the mall with friends.

"I need to use the restroom," Jillian said, moving off the bed.

"You know where it's at," I replied, watching her scurry off.

Tawny waited a moment, until she heard the door of the bathroom close. Then she turned to face me. "Do you…" She glanced at the door, and then started gathering up the catalogs. "Are you enjoying this at all?"

I tossed a catalog onto the stack. There were probably twenty in all that Jillian had brought with her. "It's different," I finally said. "Most of my clothes are from consignment shops."

"Mine are usually hand-me-downs from Lynne," Tawny admitted. "But I meant the whole girly sisterhood thing."

"Are you upset about it?"

Tawny shook her head. "I'm used to it," she said. "Just wondering if you'd rather be doing something else."

"What else would we do?"

"I don't know!" Tawny exclaimed. "What do you usually do?"

"Read…" I said, trying not to sound too lame.

"Come on…" Tawny said, pushing herself off of the bed.

"Are you bored?" I asked, sliding off of the bed myself. "We can get a movie, or something."

"No," Tawny said. "I'm not bored. I just…"

"She's worried you're bored," Jillian said, walking into the room.

I spun to look at her, and then glanced back at Tawny. "I'm not bored," I said. "This is just all new to me."

"Fair enough," Tawny said. "But you don't have to catalog shop if you don't want to." She flashed me a smile.

"It's just…" I glanced back and forth between the two girls. "I probably would've picked a dress about half an hour ago."

Jillian chuckled. "Truth is," she said, "my mom probably wouldn't let me wear half of that." She gestured toward the catalogs. "Let alone pay for it."

Tawny nodded while smiling. "So true."

"Oh…" I said, easing myself onto the side of the bed. "Then what's the point?"

"It's just fun to look," Tawny said.

"Or imagine how we'd look in something," Jillian added. "I mean, look at me for instance. What I wear." She held her hands out as if presenting her attire. "Mostly polo shirts, and khakis. And if I'm really, really lucky, I get to wear a skirt that comes down past my knees." She pointed back at the catalogs. "You think my mom would ever let me put on that strappy red mini dress we saw, at my age?"

"She'd probably strangle you with it first," Tawny laughed, while taking a seat next to me.

"Exactly," Jillian said.

"I guess that makes sense," I said. "My mom was the same way when we were shopping." I looked up at Jillian. "So you'd never actually wear that dress?"

Jillian let out a short burst of laughter. "Maybe when I'm in my twenties," she said. "Besides… I probably already have a dress bought for me, knowing my mom."

"I see," I said. "So this was just for fun?"

"Maybe," Tawny said. "Never know. Your mom could buy you that orange dress." She leaned over into me, pushing me slightly.

I smiled at Tawny, and leaned back into her. "Okay," I said. "That's all well and good." I looked up at Jillian. "But I want to know more about Jill's crush on Matt."

Jillian's mouth dropped. Her face exploded with red. "What?! I… No… I…"

"Busted!" Tawny exclaimed, pointing straight at Jillian.

A couple of weeks passed since Jillian and Tawny had been over. I became restless, having the house to myself most afternoons. Justin was deep into spring training for football. This also meant Nathan was away as well. Tom seemed to be at his shop more and more. My mother, though things had slowed down for her at work, still wouldn't get home until dinner time on most nights. Even Nancy and Carla hadn't been by for some time.

I had slipped into a rather mundane routine. Most days I would come home from school, drop everything off in my room, and shower. Then I would set about painting my nails. Toes and fingers; I painted them all. It was such a small thing in life, but something that instantly gave me a feminine mindset. All day long I had to hide everything I was behind layers of baggy clothes, and carrying myself accordingly. I hated it, and quickly found something to change how I felt.

A set of painted nails seemed to instantly lift my spirits almost every day. Looking back now, it could have been the fumes. Regardless, though, most of the time it would be all I would do. Usually I would set about doing homework after that. Sometimes I would dress as a girl, but I had slowly begun to realize that I didn't need the clothes to make me a girl. It helped with outward appearances, but I had to come to terms that what I felt on the inside mattered more.

Still, that didn't stop me from dressing. Nor did it stop me from rearranging my closet to where two thirds of it was now female attire. Ever since Tom and my mother had casually mentioned my being able to transition that summer, I had secretly made it my goal. We hadn't discussed it fully, but in my mind I had to build a case for it. I figured having feminine things take over my personal space was a pretty good start.

I was young and naïve back then. I had no concept of cost. Things like hormones, surgeries, and the like never factored into the equation for me. For some stupid reason, I thought I would magically change with a special dose of medicine. There really wasn't a reason to think that way either. Almost an entire school year had gone by at that point, and I still showed no signs of changing to anything more masculine from the medication I was on.

There were a few long talks with my mother and Tom. After I'd broken my promise to inform my mother of dressing again, we had a very long talk. Now instead of sneaking around to get clothes, they had all been given back to me. This took a lot of the stress away from thinking I'd be caught dressed. It all seemed like water under the bridge now, and had led to me having girly hangouts like the one with Tawny and Jillian.

I really liked those experiences. They gave me a new rush of sorts. Instead of being worried about hiding a secret all night, I could simply relax and enjoy it. Hanging out with other girls, while feeling like a girl, allowed me to learn some of their social conventions. There were so many subtle differences between hanging with the boys compared to hanging with the girls. Then there were major differences as well, or at least differences I could see personally.

However, for everything I had experienced, life had a funny way of throwing me a curveball. One of those curveballs came on a rather muggy May afternoon. I had just stepped out of the shower, prepared to go about my after school routine, when the doorbell rang. Nearly stumbling out of the bathroom, I managed to just throw my jeans back on, and scurry down the stairs.

At the door I was greeted by bright green eyes as they danced beneath a black bob haircut. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" Tawny asked.

"No… I," I stammered as I looked her over. "You're just the last person I expected to be at my door."

Tawny glanced back at a silver car idling in the street. I could barely make out her sister, Lynne, sitting behind the wheel. "Lynne was doing some errands, and we were close by," Tawny said, now facing me. "I thought maybe we could talk for a bit?"

"Um… sure," I said. "Do you want to come in?"

"Are your parents home?"

"No," I said, emphasizing it with a shake of my head.

Tawny looked back at the car and waved. Her sister waved back. In less than a minute Lynne was gone down the street. She turned back to face me. "It's pretty nice out here."

I shrugged as I stepped out of the door, closing it behind me. The concrete of our front porch felt warm beneath my bare feet. For a short moment there was a still silence between us. Tawny looked me over, but tried unconvincingly to be discrete about it. As I put my arms back to lean against the railing, I noticed her glancing at my bare chest. Then she appeared to quiver slightly.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Tawny's eyes drifted down my body to the waist of my jeans. She shifted her body weight to one side. Then she casually moved her hand up to brush her hair away from her ear. "Did you want to get dressed?" she asked, her voice a bit shaky.

My body straightened, causing her eyes to dart up to meet mine. "Does it bother you?"

"I'm… fine," Tawny said. "Maybe we should go inside after all. I could use a drink."

"Sure," I said, opening the door for her.

No sooner had I closed the door, than Tawny had her hand wrapped around my wrist. I barely got my feet under me, as we climbed the stairs. It felt like I was being dragged, more than being led to the top. We bypassed the kitchen. Apparently Tawny wasn't that thirsty. As we neared my bedroom, I had thoughts in my head that would've made a nun pass out.

However, instead of turning left, we suddenly turned right, and I found myself being pushed in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Tawny stood behind me. Her chin rested on my shoulder. We stood there for a long while, both gazing into the mirror. Although I gazed into her eyes, I could see that she was gazing at something else entirely. I don't know how long it took for one of us to speak, but I ran out of patience long before she did.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Tawny glanced at the reflection of my eyes. "Do you not see it?"

"See what?" I asked, still staring into her eyes.

"Not me," she said, pointing at the mirror.

"What is with you?" I asked, trying to turn to face her.

This was met with some resistance, as Tawny pushed me back to look into the mirror. "I can't believe you can't see it," she said. "I saw it instantly. Just now. Outside."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Can you give me a clue?"

In the mirror I could see Tawny's bright green eyes roll in exasperation. Her hands moved to the waist of my jeans. Glancing back into my eyes, she gave me a peculiar look. Then she casually yanked my jeans down. I nearly jumped out of my skin, as the waist line of my jeans nearly came down far enough to expose my privates. And as I reached down to try and pull them back up, Tawny grabbed my wrists, successfully pulling my hands away.

"Look!" she exclaimed. "I mean, really look."

I stood in silence, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Be it from mere shock, or euphoria to some degree, it felt like I was floating in space now. Tawny moved my arms out to the sides. Then she slowly traced her hands along the bottom of my arms, cupping them under my chest. They continued to move down my sides, first going in toward my waist, and then flowing out at my hips. That's when it finally started to sink in.

"You see it now?" Tawny asked, her chin resting once more on my shoulder. She pulled my hands back in to where they rested on what appeared to be my breasts.

"What is happening to me?" I quietly asked the mirror.

"I don't know," Tawny said. "I really don't know."

Her arms snaked around me. Slowly she began to rock with me side to side. Tears started flowing down my cheeks. I didn't know if they were from happiness, disappointment, or fear of the unknown. Perhaps it was a mixture of the three. Tawny and I stayed in front of that mirror for what seemed like forever. Neither of us said a word for several minutes. We simply stared at the mirror, taking in what appeared to be the start of my new curvy self.

---

 
 
To Be Continued...
 

---

 

---

 

---

---

 

---

 
Part 3

There I sat. Face flushed, hair in disarray; panting as I attempted to stay perched upon the side of my bed. A light mist of perspiration crowned my forehead. I reached up to brush it away; along with several locks of wavy ash blonde hair. My chest rose up and down in a fevered struggle beneath my gray sports bra.

"Maybe I just need to exercise more," I said, still breathing hard.

"I don't think that's the case at all," Tawny said. "You run all the time with Nathan. I think it's something else."

I watched her for a moment. Tawny busied herself by digging through my closet. She seemed determined in her hunt. Every so often she would pull something out, and toss it over the back of my chair. She was right though. Looking down past my bra, I took in the sight below. The bright yellow panties were a sharp contrast to the denim flaps framing them.

"That's like the fourth pair," I said, solemnly. "I had to unzip them just to sit down."

"Try these," Tawny said.

I watched her as she strolled across my room. She held out a pair of jeans. As I looked up into her bright green eyes, I let out a frustrated sigh. Her hands dropped slightly, lowering the jeans to me. Then she fronted her infamous do-it-for-me expression that simply made me weak. Although my previous struggle could account for part of that feeling. My eyes locked onto the pair of jeans she held.

"This is silly," I said.

"I just want to see," Tawny said. "You've definitely worn these before."

That much was true. I instantly recognized the pair of jeans. They happened to be a pair I wore several times when I first started dressing. A pink butterfly casually flittered up one leg. Behind it swirled a trail of pink glittery lines. They were perhaps the tightest, most form-fitting jeans my mother had bought me. In fact, I believe she was the one that picked them out.

"Fine," I said, letting out another sigh.

Tawny took a few steps back, as I stood up from my bed. My bare feet sank into the carpet. I glanced at the pair of jeans in Tawny's hands, and then my eyes met hers again. She stared at me intently. For some reason I expected her to leave the room, or at the very least turn around. I don't know why. She had watched the same process several times by now. It felt nearly the same as undressing in front of Tiffany at this point.

My fingers hooked around the waistband of the jeans I had on. With a not-so-careful yank I pulled them down and over my butt. Once they hit my upper thighs, I began to shimmy them down my legs. Finally I was able to step out of them, and kick them gently over to Tawny. She pushed the other pair forward, and I took them from her.

I stooped over, and slipped my feet into them. As I stood, I carefully brought the jeans up over my legs. By the time they reached my knees, I knew this would become a concerted effort. The last pair I had on could easily be considered tight. At least they had some stretch in the denim. This pair, however, had no give, and they were quick to remind me of that fact.

"Wow," Tawny said, out of the silence. "Maybe you should stop there."

"These were always a little tight," I said, pulling at them more.

I had managed to get the jeans halfway up my thighs by then. The hard part was yet to come. From sheer experience, I began to shimmy in the jeans, causing them to inch up further. By the time the waistband popped up over my hips and butt, I found myself nearly exhausted. My fingers fumbled for the button.

"There's no way," Tawny said, holding her hand up. "I mean it. We might have to cut you out of them if you even manage to get them fastened."

I pulled at the waistband, but it wouldn't budge. What I had barely been able to fasten before, now seemed like the impossible. The button was nearly three inches away from where it needed to go. I frantically began to squirm in the jeans, as I continued in vain to pull them closed. If Tawny had not stepped forward at that moment, I probably would have gone crazy.

"Bailey," she said, putting her hands on mine. "It's not gonna happen babe."

I squirmed away from her, taking a frustrated stroll around my room. "I don't understand," I said. "They fit me fine not even a year ago. They all did!" I threw my hand out gesturing to the other pairs. "Now none of them fit."

Tawny stepped over to me. "Bailey…" she said, while reaching for my arm again.

I jerked my arm from her. "This isn't right," I said, walking to my bed. "They should all fit. Everything else fits. The skirts. The shoes. The shirts. Everything but these stupid jeans!"

"Oh," Tawny said, holding her hands out. "I wouldn't…"

Her words were met with the deafening sound of cloth ripping. My eyes shut; mostly from disappointment, but slightly from embarrassment. I never wanted to open them again. I would have to see the truth then. The pair of jeans I had so desperately tried to squeeze into, had basically exploded in half. When my eyes finally opened, I saw Tawny standing over me. Her hands were clinched together, with her thumbs resting against her lips.

"You shouldn't have sat down," she said quietly.

"Well I know that now!" I exclaimed.

"Don't be mad at me," Tawny said, sitting next to me on the bed.

"I'm not," I said, looking at her thoughtfully. "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated."

"It's okay," Tawny said. She put her hand on my back, and slowly moved it up and down.

My head dropped, causing wavy locks of hair to cascade around my face. I stared at the denim stretched tightly over my thighs. "I really liked this pair."

"Because of the butterfly?" Tawny asked.

"Yeah…" I said, leaning into her.

Tawny pulled me even closer. She turned, and slipped her other arm around me. For several minutes we sat there in silence. Like before, in the bathroom, Tawny began rocking back and forth with me in her arms. My eyes remained locked on the pair of jeans that no longer fit. In fact, four of the five pairs I tried on no longer fit me. The pair that barely fit were still tight around the hips. I was still trying to process this discovery, and somehow put it with the image of my body in the mirror, when a horn sounded from outside.

"Aw crud," Tawny said, turning her head to my window. "That's Lynne I bet."

I lifted my head to look at Tawny. "You didn't even get to tell me what you came over here for," I said. "Was it important?"

Tawny seemed lost in thought for a moment. "No," she finally said, standing from the bed. "It can wait." She groaned as she looked out of my window. "I really don't want to leave you like this."

"I think I'll be fine," I said, offering the best reassuring smile I could muster.

"Well at least let me help you get out of those," she said, nodding at the jeans.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Tawny stepped forward and pushed me back onto the bed. "Cute…" she said, while she began peeling the jeans down over my thighs. Eventually she got them down far enough that she could yank them off of me completely. She folded them, and her hand ran across the butterfly. "I could do something with these, if you'd like?"

I shrugged. "They're pretty much done for," I said, slipping from the bed to find other attire.

"I'm so sorry to leave like this," Tawny said. "I would stay if I could."

"I'd probably get in trouble for being alone with a girl anyway," I said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"I'll call you later."

"Sure," I said, pulling a pair of knit shorts from a drawer. I slipped them on before turning to face her. "You shouldn't keep Lynne waiting though."

"Bailey… I…"

I smiled at her. "I'll be fine," I said. "I just need to talk to my mom about it."

"Okay," Tawny said.

She stepped forward, and threw her arms around me. I sank into her embrace. A part of me missed Tiffany still, but I had grown extremely fond of Tawny. Bit by bit, I had been working up the nerve to express these feelings. I liked to think that Tawny was privately working up the nerve as well. When she pulled away, my heart sank ever so slightly in my chest.

"Talk to you soon," she said.

I nodded as she slipped out the door. After the front door closed, I stood in the middle of my room in silence. Desperately I fought the urge to sink to the floor and start crying my eyes out. It wouldn't help matters at all. My eyes drifted down to discarded jeans scattered around the room. I kicked the closest pair away, grabbed a t-shirt, and stormed out of my room.

When I hit the hallway I really had no idea where I was headed. I paced back toward my parents room, and then all the way into the living room. For a moment I stood there staring at the television. It didn't seem even remotely right to sit down and watch a show at this point. So I stormed off into the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," I said, looking out the window into our back yard. "If anything I should probably exercise."

There had to be a reason I came into the kitchen though. Something in my life had to make sense at that moment in time. So many questions ran through my mind, that I couldn't figure out which to ask first. I felt like something had to be amiss. Slowly I turned my attention toward the back of the dining room. Tom's office door appeared to be open ever so slightly. It was as if it was inviting me to come in.

My mind drifted back to last month. I tried to focus on a particular day. There was a phone call in Tom's office. Some woman was talking about a problem at the shop. Wait… That wasn't right at all. She didn't say anything about the shop, but rather something else.

"Warehouse…" I thought, recalling the answering machine message. "When did Tom ever get a warehouse?"

I strolled over to the dining room table. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move in our backyard. Turning to look out the sliding door, I realized it was only Buckles running around in his pen. As I studied the door for a moment, my memory was jogged yet again. Nancy, Carla and Jillian had interrupted me that day. Nothing else happened after that.

"The phone call wasn't important," I thought, as I turned my attention back to Tom's office.

I reached for the door. It brushed across the carpet as it slowly swung open. Fumbling for the light switch, I finally managed to find it. The room burst to life with a soft white glow. My eyes scanned over the books and the pens. They darted over the papers and the opened envelopes.

"The letter," I said aloud.

Quickly I pushed into the room. Before I even made contact with the chair, my hands were already combing through the papers on Tom's desk. I sifted through the stacks of papers. My eyes were on the lookout for a letter from Doctor Brooks. It had mentioned something about my medication, or the like.

Not finding the letter in the papers, I moved on to the open envelopes. Perhaps he had stuffed it back into one. I thumbed through the small stack of envelopes, looking for anything to do with Doctor Brooks' office. There was nothing. Frantic now, I started looking for anything to do with my medical treatments.

I found several bills pertaining to Doctor Dinesh. All of which said they were paid in full. However, they didn't list any specifics as far as I could tell. There were receipts everywhere, mostly from business expenses. Those were brushed to the side as I continued my mission. Somewhere, deep down inside of me, I felt there had to be an answer in this office, or at the very least in this house. Something had to say what was going on with me.

As I scattered the papers across Tom's desk, I suddenly heard the front door open and close. Every muscle in my body froze. The hair on my neck stood straight up, and my breathing suddenly stopped. Footsteps sounded on the steps, and I quickly scrambled to put Tom's office back in order.

"Bailey?"

Tom's voice rang out like a gunshot in a cave. It managed to kick-start my breathing, which now came in short bursts. I rose from his chair. Desperately I tried to assemble his papers in some fashion that resembled where they had been. My heart began to beat to where it felt like it would explode.

"Bailey?" Tom shouted again. "Where the hell are you?"

He was back at my room now. I had precious few seconds to get out of there. That's when I saw it. Doctor Brooks' letter had been precariously shoved into the top of Tom's trashcan. Something I had thought would contain the most important answers of my young life, had been deemed as trash. I quickly grabbed it, slapped the light off, and slid out of the office; making sure to close the door behind me.

"Where were you?" Tom asked, as he broke into the kitchen.

"Outside," I said, as I pretended to be finishing up closing the door.

Tom looked me over. "You didn't hear me yelling?"

My head shook slowly. "Sorry," I said. "I was just getting some sun."

"Oh," Tom said, studying me for a moment longer. "Well… water the dog for me."

"Sure," I said, reaching for the handle of the door again.

"Has your mom been home?"

"Not yet," I said, sliding the door open.

"I'll be in the shower," he said, as he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

The muggy May air washed over me, as I slid the door open. I stepped outside, quickly closing the glass door behind me. My body slumped against it. Air rushed into my lungs as if it were my first breath in years. I stood for a long moment, my eyes shut, feeling the warmth of the air and the concrete beneath my feet.

Right as that warmth started to sink in, the glass door shook, and I jumped as someone knocked on it behind me. I spun, heart leaping beneath my hand. Justin laughed at me from the other side of the glass. He reached for the door handle. The familiar whoosh of the sliding glass door mingled with Justin's laughter as he stepped outside.

"You suck so bad!" I said.

"The look on your face…" he said, between fits of laughter.

I reached up and slapped his arm as hard as I could. "Don't do that to me," I scolded. "I'm already on edge."

"Why?" he asked, as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"Nothing," I said. "I have to give Buckles water."

"I'll do it," Justin said. "I've still got my shoes on."

I wasn't going to argue. Justin was already halfway to the hose. Quietly I slipped back through the door, and closed it behind me. It took me about ten seconds to get back to my room. With the door closed, I whipped the letter from my back pocket. Slowly I sank to my floor, with my back against my door.

My hands trembled as I unfolded the letter. Somewhere inside this cryptic note had to be the answers to everything I was going through. Intent on dissecting it, my eyes hung on every word. As I sat there in deep concentration, something slammed against my door. I jumped from the spot on the floor, and quickly shoved the letter into my pocket once more.

"Where are you going?" Justin's voice echoed down the hallway.

I grabbed the handle to my door and quickly jerked it open. There in front of me was Tom. He quickly reached down and gathered the box at my knees. At a glance I noticed several large envelopes stuffed into the box. I assumed this was the object he had dropped against my door.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as my eyebrows furrowed.

Tom looked at me for a long moment. He had worry in his eyes. Several times he appeared as if he wanted to speak, but he held back.

"Tom?" Justin stepped down the hallway.

Tom's eyes began to shift nervously. "I'll be back later," he finally said. "I just need to handle some things." He cleared his throat as he stood straight. "Take care of Bailey, okay."

Justin stepped in front of Tom as he moved down the hallway. "When are you going to be back?" he asked of Tom, putting his hand up to slow him down.

"Get out of my way," Tom said, pushing Justin aside. "I told you I'll be back later."

"What do I tell mom?"

Tom turned the corner, and moved down the stairs. He didn't say another word. I moved over to where Justin stood in disbelief. The front door opened. Then it closed. Tom was gone. Justin looked down at me.

"What was that all about?"

"I have no idea," I mumbled, strolling back to my room.

I kicked around some of the clothes on my floor. After the day I was having, there really wasn't anything that could get me in the mood to clean. So many times I had wished my stepfather wasn't around. Him leaving tonight was probably the best gift he could've given me. I could talk to my mother alone, without him hovering over our conversation. Now I just had to wait for her to get home.

Some time before sunset, that waiting turned into absolute boredom. I found myself falling into my bed and curling up for a nap. Just after dusk, my brother came and jostled my shoulders, as he tried to rock me awake. I didn't want to move. My entire body seemed to be in revolt. Somehow I had managed to find the perfect spot on my bed. Despite all of my efforts to play dead, my brother eventually managed to get me to open my eyes.

"Come on, Bailey," Justin said. "They're here already."

I looked up at Justin with one eye slightly open. "Who?"

"I just told you," Justin said. "Come on. Get up."

"Yeah," a female voice came ringing into my room from the hallway. "Get up girly girl."

My entire body turned to stone. Almost immediately I could feel my heart slamming against my chest. I bolted upright. My feet swung over the side of my bed. "Kate?!"

I looked up to see a rather cheerful Justin. He was dressed nice for some reason, or at least nicer than usual. "Are you awake now?"

Looking past him, I could see Kate at my door. "What is this?" I asked.

"For about the tenth time," Justin said. "I invited Kate and Tiffany to go do something."

"Well to be fair," Kate said, still hovering at the door. "He called me, and Tiffany begged to tag along."

"Come on! It's Friday, and I'm bored," Justin said, sitting next to me.

I grabbed Justin's shirt collar, and pulled him toward me. "I'm going to kill you for this," I said quietly.

"Alright. Cool," Justin said, standing up straight. He turned to Kate. "Bailey just needs a minute to get dressed."

"Are you sure she's okay with this?" Kate asked.

"You know I'm right here," I said, standing from my bed.

I took a moment to assess my attire. Then I looked around the room. It looked like my closet had vomited out everything I kept in it. My dresser drawers looked ransacked. For a brief moment I thought of bailing out with the excuse I had to clean. That moment passed when Kate asked if I needed help picking an outfit.

"No," I said. "I'm good." I looked over at Kate and Justin, who both seemed to be dressed for a date, more than anything else. "What are we doing exactly?"

"I don't know," Justin said. "Maybe bowling?"

Kate chuckled. "Yeah… Not in this skirt, babe."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. They continued to stare. Then I realized something else was going on with these two. This actually was a date, and by the way they were acting it wasn't their first. "So…" I said loudly. "Is that a no on the bowling?"

Kate seemed to shake herself out of a daydream.

Justin reached up and rubbed his neck. He turned to look at me again. "What's wrong with that?" he asked, gesturing at my attire.

I looked down over my knit shorts and wrinkled shirt. "Are you kidding me?!"

"What's wrong with you," Kate said, brushing past Justin. "She can't go out in that."

Justin threw his hands up, and walked out of the room. Kate strolled over to my closet, stooping to pick a few things up along the way. I couldn't help but stare at her smooth legs. They seemed to be perfectly defined, and already tanned before summer hit. Her hair also looked amazing. She had rolled it into loose curls.

"You don't need to dress me," I said quietly.

"I just want to help," she said, turning to face me. "And I'm not here to make you dress as a girl either, if that's what you're thinking."

"I don't even mind that," I said. "Honestly… I'd prefer it."

Kate's head tilted to the side. "Really?"

"It feels right most of the time," I said. "I kind of miss going out as a girl." My eyes trailed off toward my window. The sun had nearly set. It seemed a perfect moment to reflect on everything. And suddenly my mouth blurted out what my heart felt. "As myself…"

"I didn't know you felt that way," Kate said solemnly.

"Me either." Tiffany's voice trailed from the doorway.

I turned to face her.

"I thought we were just having fun," she said. "That you were going through a phase."

"I guess things change," I said.

Tiffany strolled into my room, looking like a miniature version of her sister. Her long black hair had the same loose curls. She had subtle makeup that made her look only slightly older. Most likely she had gotten help from Kate. I couldn't help but notice she had much more feminine curves beneath her light green summer dress. Apparently she was one of those early bloomers the rest of the girls talked about; and secretly hated.

"You look nice," I said, offering up a shy smile. "You both do." I glanced over at Kate.

"Bailey," Kate said. "I never knew it was this serious… If I've ever said anything to hurt you…"

"No," I said. "It's okay. I mean you haven't."

"Can we have a few minutes?" Tiffany asked.

"Sure," Kate said. She strolled over to the bed, and dropped the clothes she had been holding. Then she quickly walked out of the room, closing the door as she left.

"So you begged to come?" I asked, as I stepped over to my closet.

Tiffany chuckled. "Is that what Kate said?"

"Basically," I said, pulling out a black knee-length circle skirt from the closet. "Although I find it kind of hard to imagine. You never had to beg for something you wanted."

"I've missed you," Tiffany said quietly.

I turned to look at her. "I've always been here."

She walked over and slumped down on my bed. "You don't know how hard this has been for me," she said. "I see you at school. It's like you're there, but not…"

"You think this has been a walk in the park for me?" I asked, pulling the skirt up my legs and over my shorts. "I feel like I've lost my best friend."

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Tiffany said, looking up at me with her hazel eyes.

My head tilted to the side. "It was your idea," I said, pulling the shorts off now that the skirt was in place. It was a modesty trick I had learned from Jillian, the same day she taught me how to remove a bra while leaving my shirt on.

"I know!" Tiffany looked over at the window. "And it was a dumb idea."

"No," I said. "The dumbest idea was having Vince involved. I mean… how in the world…"

Tiffany pushed herself up from the bed. "I had to sell it to my parents. Vince was convenient."

"A little too convenient," I said. "Was kissing him in front of Kate part of selling the act?"

She stepped closer to me. "That…" She sighed. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I never thought I'd get that close to him."

I laughed, turning back to my closet. "For the past several months I've been surrounded with nothing but girls," I said. "Girls that I'm close to. One of which I have even kissed before." I pulled a nice light blue top to go with the skirt. "But never once did I think about making one of them my girlfriend for the week. And now they all think that everything was real. It even seems real."

"What do you want me to say?" Tiffany asked.

"Did you like it?" I asked, still looking into the closet. "The kiss?"

"The first few times it was like play acting," Tiffany said. "Like you and I used to do." She sighed. "Then it was nice… like a comforting feeling."

"So you felt something?"

"That's the thing," Tiffany said. "I never felt anything for Vince. It just felt comfortable kissing him. But it still felt like we were acting."

I turned to face her again. "Look," I said. "I don't want to keep fighting about this."

Tiffany stepped closer. "I don't either," she said. "I want to get past it."

"There's fault here on both sides. I mean, I was with you," I said, feeling a lump rising in my throat. "The fake break up. Giving you time to get your parents off your back. Everything you asked for, I let you have. I kind of let you go." I swallowed hard. "But you didn't need to make out with Vince."

"Will you ever forgive me?" Tiffany asked, her hazel eyes now filling with tears.

"That's the thing. I already have forgiven you," I said. "I still care about you. But… maybe we should just stay friends for now."

"Is that really what you want?"

My head shook slowly. "At the moment, it's what I feel I need." I looked down at my attire. "I can't even get my head around this yet," I said, shaking the top in my hand.

"Could I at least be a part of this again?" she asked, slowly reaching out to take my other hand. "What you're going through? Whatever this is?"

I smiled at her. "I would like that," I said.

Tiffany smiled back. "Why don't you finish getting ready? I'll wait outside."

Needless to say, there aren't a lot of things girls are willing to do while wearing skirts. We passed on nearly each and every suggestion Justin seemed to come up with. He just didn't understand. Not to mention we didn't have a lot of time on our hands. None of us wanted to go bowling or play miniature golf. It was too dark for the park. There weren't any good movies, and the mall even seemed like a dull idea. Then Tiffany came up with a brilliant idea, that seemed to work for everyone.

Nothing could beat the amazing feeling of pumping tokens into cheesy games, to win tickets for cheesy prizes. Only we didn't go to that infamous place where a kid could be a kid. Instead we went to the more respectable, grown-up place; where a teenager could act like a kid. We went to Bucky's Arcade and Games. Okay, so it wasn't entirely respectable, but at least it was fun. And we all needed a little fun that Friday night.

Justin and Kate had cozied up back in the dark recesses of the eating area. Apparently games of chance were not on the forefront of their minds that night. Meanwhile, Tiffany and I were entrenched in a battle to the end at air hockey. It felt good to let off a little steam, and aggressively go at each other, without actually going at each other. I didn't want to fight with Tiffany anymore. Playing a competitive game against her felt like closure to our disagreement.

By the end of the night, we felt like friends again. I think we had been so caught up in playing the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend, that we missed the obvious friend part of the words. We both had too much pressure on us for thirteen year-olds. Tiffany was supposed to be the perfect little daughter for her parents. Her parents freaked out because she wasn't sure if she liked girls or boys. Truth be told, I think she enjoyed being with boys more.

On my side, I didn't even know if I wanted to be a boy or girl. Not only that, but I had two parents pulling me both ways. My mother seemed thrilled every time I went back to the girl side of the slide. While Tom continually tried to reel me in to the boy side of things. Technically he hadn't been doing that as of late, but then he really hadn't been there much as of late. Thinking about this, made me wonder what Tom was really up to tonight.

"Bam!" Tiffany said loudly, as she slammed the puck into my goal. "I win this round!"

"Good game," I said, a little distantly.

"Wanna go again?"

"Let's do something else," I said.

"You okay?" Tiffany asked, coming around the table.

"Just thinking about Tom," I said. "He left in a hurry today."

"And I hope he never comes back," Justin said, walking up behind me. His arm was hanging around Kate's shoulders like they'd just walked off the set of Grease. Somewhere deep inside I felt a twinge of jealousy at how close they'd become.

"That's not very nice," Kate said, bumping him with her elbow.

"Tom's an asshole," Justin said. "And a liar." He pointed his cola at me. "He's been lying to Bailey for months."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You really think he's okay with you dressing like a girl?" Justin asked, rhetorically. It caused a few kids next to us to smirk and walk away.

"Justin…" Kate said. "That was a little loud."

"Sorry," Justin said, though not directing it toward me. "Bailey, you should know the truth though."

"Not here," Kate said, turning her head in toward Justin.

"Nobody here cares," Justin said, pulling his arm away from her shoulders. "I'm surprised our entire town doesn't know the saga of Bailey Walker by now." He looked back at Kate. "I mean the football team knows. Most of our school knows."

Kate stepped back. She nervously brought her hand to her forehead, and turned away. Tiffany stepped over beside me, as Justin came closer. For a moment, Justin seemed to be contemplating on if he should say anything more. He glanced around the arcade, and back at Kate. She seemed to be bracing herself for a massive verbal onslaught.

"Just know that I'm not telling you this to hurt you," Justin said, turning to me. "I just think it's best that you know. So you can try to process what's been going on."

"Can we at least take this back to the car?" Kate asked, grabbing at Justin's sleeve.

"Look," Justin said. "I'm not trying to ruin the evening, or be a dick."

"Or cause a scene…" Kate mumbled.

"Tom and mom have been fighting over you a lot," Justin blurted out. "He is not okay with… basically anything you do. He never has been, and he never will be."

"That's not true," I said. "What about the whole moment he and I had on the stairs? About his son?"

"What?" Justin's head recoiled, and he showed a look of bewilderment. "Tom's never had a son. He's never had any kind of family before us." Justin shrugged. "If you wanna call what we have a family…"

"Why would he lie about that?" I asked. "It was like a life-altering thing."

"Hell if I know," Justin said. "He's a compulsive liar. He lies about where he goes, and what he does. Mom thinks he's seeing another woman. Hell… he even goes through your diary when you're not home."

"What?!"

"That is so not right," Tiffany said from beside me.

"He got it for you so he could spy on you," Justin said. "He still talks shit about you in front of me and his friends."

My heart sank in my chest. The look on Kate's face told me my own face had sunk with my heart. As much as I wanted to disbelieve everything Justin was saying, there was absolutely no reason for him to lie about this. There wasn't even a reason to bring it up, unless he thought it was extremely important that I know. Perhaps Tom's departure tonight had stirred something inside of Justin.

"Look at her," Kate said, pushing Justin to the side. "You have no idea of the meaning of subtle."

"She needs to know," Justin said.

"A little harsh though," Tiffany said, taking my hand.

"I'm not the enemy here," Justin said. "Tom is. He's been undermining anything and everything he possibly can to mess with Bailey's life. The only reason he acts okay with it, is so he doesn't have to hear it from mom. His words."

"Time and place," Kate said over her shoulder. "You're not the enemy, but I think you've had a bit too much Jack in your Coke." She turned back to face me. "Let's go back to the car."

Justin threw his hands up. "Come on," he said. "It's only eleven."

"Crap!" Kate said. "Is it that late?"

"What's the problem?" Justin asked. "We stay out til almost one every weekend."

"Yeah…" Kate said. "But Tiffany's curfew is eleven." She pushed past Justin. "I gotta call home."

"We should call too," I said, quietly.

"Let's just go," Justin said, rolling his eyes. "Tom's not gonna be there to bust our balls."

Stars twinkled in the nearly cloudless sky. The street lights flickered. Tiffany smiled when I glanced at her. She casually took my hand and held it firmly. Justin and Kate were playfully arguing about a song on the radio. All seemed to be right in our strange little world, despite the revelations of Tom that Justin had brought to light. We turned up our street. Flashing lights, red and blue, greeted us as we drew closer to our house. I figured our neighbors across the street had finally done the unthinkable.

"Crap!" Kate said. "Did you dump that drink?"

"Yeah," Justin said, sitting up straighter. "It's gone."

"And the bottle?"

"Gone."

"What's going on?" I asked, leaning up to look between the seats.

Then I noticed that our house was the central focus of the police. Kate pulled over to the side of the street. A police officer, perhaps in his early forties, slowly walked toward our car, waving for us to go on. Kate stopped the car. My brother opened the door, and jumped out. This caused the officer to take a step back. He looked to be a little on edge.

"Young man," he said. "You can't be here."

"I live here," Justin said. "What's going on?"

The officer held up his index finger, and turned his head to the radio on his shoulder. "I have one of the boys." He looked down in the car, and then back up at Justin. "Where's your brother?"

Justin took a deep breath. "He's in the car too," he said reluctantly. "In the back."

The officer leaned down again. His eyebrow raised inquisitively. Then he held up his hand and motioned for me to get out. I turned to Tiffany for a brief moment, and squeezed her hand. It was the only thing I could think of to signify that I would be alright. Then I moved to get out of the car. Tiffany followed suit, causing Kate to react and open her door.

As I removed myself from the car, the officer stopped Tiffany and Kate. "I just need the two that live here. You two should go home."

"What's going on here?" Kate said, standing up outside of the car. "Are they in trouble?"

"Please," the officer said. "Return to your vehicle and move along."

"It's okay," Justin said, giving Kate a reassuring smile. "It's late. You two should probably get home."

Kate looked ready to protest, but a nod from Justin caused her to slowly get back into the car. Tiffany hurried around the car, throwing her hands around me. I responded in kind, and held her for a moment. Then she pulled back slightly. Her lips pressed against my cheek, but were quickly gone. After one final look into my eyes, she pulled away and walked back around the car to get in. Both girls waved solemnly and drove off down the street.

"Call me," Kate shouted back at Justin.

"I need you two to come inside now," the officer said behind me.

"What's the problem?" Justin asked.

The officer looked back and forth at us. "Inside." He held up his hand toward our house.

"Where have you two been?"

Our mom came rushing across the living room as we reached the top of the stairs. She threw her arms around me, pulling me in tight. Her hand clenched my hair for a short while, and then she pulled away. I watched her reach up and tug at Justin's shirt. Then she stepped back to look at both of us.

"I thought something had happened to you," she said.

"Justin said he left a note," I said, looking over at my brother.

"Yeah…" Justin said, rubbing his neck. "I might've forgotten to do that…"

"We'll talk about that later," Mom said. "And why you smell like alcohol." She leered at Justin for a moment. "I'm just glad you're both okay. I thought the worst."

"What's going on?" I asked, looking around at all of the police in our house. "Did you call the police on us?"

"No," Mom said, swallowing hard. "They're looking for Tom."

"Why?" Justin asked.

"I saw Bailey's room like that…" Mom said. "And then my room. Nobody was home… When the police showed up looking for Tom…" She hugged us both again. "I thought he'd run off with you two."

"We're fine," Justin said.

The officer from outside walked up to us. "They need to talk to you some more," he said to our mother.

Our mother turned to us. "Why don't you two go to your rooms?" She smiled assuredly. "It's been a long night."

I stepped into my room. My eyes were instantly drawn to the chaos, which occurred earlier that day. Strewn across the floor were various articles of clothing, and it nearly looked like my closet exploded. I imagined my closet to be a giant space alien. It's guts were tossed about my room, sticking to my bed, my floor, and even my chair. A sigh escaped me as I remembered wanting to talk to my mother.

"Zachary?" A female's voice came from behind me.

I turned to face the woman standing in my doorway. Her somewhat small frame had been hidden deceitfully well behind a stylish navy blue suit. It made her appear more masculine and slightly more intimidating. The three inch heels sent her towering over me, and nearly matched her in height to the gruff man walking in behind her.

"I go by Bailey now," I said, sheepishly.

"Bailey then." The woman extended her well-manicured hand, and I took it in mine. "My name is Lauren Knox. I'm an agent with the FBI." The brief handshake concluded, with her turning to gesture to the man behind her. "This is Detective Banks."

"Jeff."

The man pushed past her to shake my hand as well. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in a few days. His hand was rough, matching the firmness of his handshake. Sporting jeans and a t-shirt, he hardly looked professional. His badge hung crooked on his belt, as if it were a second thought.

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Agent Knox asked.

I studied her for a moment. "Is this about Tom?"

"It is," she said. "Would you like to sit?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Is Tom in trouble?"

"Right now we're just trying to locate him," Agent Knox said. "We have a few questions to ask him as well."

Jeff leaned against the doorframe. His arms folded across his chest. I wasn't sure if he would be part of discussion, or if he would jump in and play bad cop soon.

"When was the last time you saw Tom?" Agent Knox asked, drawing my attention back to her.

"This afternoon," I said.

"Here at the house?"

"Yes," I said. "He came home. Asked me to water our dog, and then he left shortly after that."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No." I shook my head, watching her jot something in her little pad. It reminded me of Rajan taking notes at our meetings.

"Did he take anything with him?"

"He had a box," I said, remembering the incident with him in the hallway.

"What kind of box?"

"One of those brown cardboard boxes with the lid," I said. "Only the lid was off, and it was filled with a bunch of envelopes."

Jeff stood up straight. "What kind of envelopes?"

"Like the big envelopes," I said, gesturing the size with my hands. "They all looked stuffed pretty full."

Jeff nodded. "Did you see what was inside any of them?"

"No," I said. "Sorry."

"No problem." Jeff's brow furrowed. "Does Tom own any fire arms?"

"Just hunting rifles," I said.

"Excuse me for a minute," Jeff said, more to Agent Knox. He quickly turned out of the room, and walked away down the hall.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We're not sure yet," Agent Knox said. "Right now, we're just interested in talking to Tom. He's a person of interest."

"I don't understand," I said. "He's run off before, but he came back…"

"When was this?" Agent Knox asked.

"Thanksgiving," I said. "He got mad at me dressing like a girl, and blew up before dinner."

Lauren glanced out into the hallway. She waved in a female uniformed officer. I started getting a little nervous, thinking I had said something wrong. I wondered if I had given them some kind of information that incriminated Tom, or even worse myself. Then Lauren whispered something to the officer. The officer nodded and walked away. Lauren stepped over closer to me, looking me over.

"You said Tom lost his temper?" she asked.

"He punched a hole in the wall," I said.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head hard. "He's never hurt me."

"Has he ever hit your brother or your mother?" Agent Knox asked.

I shook my head again. "He's never hit any of us," I said. "He just hits… things."

"I see," Agent Knox said, writing again in her pad. "Could I ask you a few more personal questions?"

"I… I guess," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"You don't have to answer," Agent Knox said. "I want you to know you can trust me. I'm not out to get you." She winked. Then she glanced around the room at my discarded clothing.

"It's about how I'm dressed isn't it?"

"I simply want to know if it's by choice," Agent Knox said, bringing her focus back to me.

"Yes," I said, a bit relieved.

"So nobody is forcing you?"

I thought back for a moment to when this all started. Tom had very forcefully made me dress as a girl. It was deemed as some sort of punishment by him. Had it been humiliating at the time? Yes, but it only awakened deeper feelings that I never knew existed. In a way, this cosmic accident had actually enlightened me to the point where I had nearly accepted myself as a female. Was that by choice? Or had Tom actually scarred me emotionally, by forcing me into something I perhaps wasn't ever intended to stumble upon?

"No," I said.

Speaking in relative terms, nobody at that time was forcing me to dress like a girl. Nobody had forced me to like it. Sure, Tom had forced me to wear panties in the beginning. But he never forced me to put Tiffany's attire on the day after. Or to put on her swimsuit for the pool party. He never forced me to model as a girl at 'Tweens. In fact, had he known any of that, he would've been strongly opposed to the situations. Those were all choices I had made.

"No," I repeated. "Nobody is forcing me…"

That's when I felt it. A familiar sharp pain stabbed at my lower abdomen. My body instinctively crumpled. I reached for the area, and felt another blinding shock of pain course through. From somewhere distant I heard a groan. It had to be me. This is what I felt before. It all came back to me instantly. When I passed out at Nathan's house. When I fell in the bathroom. Both times it had started with this intense pain. My eyes filled with tears as I looked up toward a very worried Agent Knox.

"Help…"

And then there was darkness…

And then there was light. Daylight peaked through the blinds of an unfamiliar window. In the distance I could hear electronic beeping, and chatter. There was the distinct sound of an ambulance for a short moment, and then it was gone. I felt groggy. Looking down toward my feet I could see nothing but a sea of light blue. Then I saw the tubes coming out of my left arm.

"A hospital?" I managed to choke out of my parched mouth.

As if on cue, a bubbly, stout nurse burst into the room. She had a stack of sheets in her hand. Seeing me awake, she smiled, set the sheets down, then came over to my side.

"Well good morning," her cheerful voice filled the room like a gunshot in a barrel. "You slept right through the night." She reached up to check a bag of clear liquid on a pole. "Are you in any pain at all?"

"I'm a little thirsty," I said.

"Well I'll get you some ice chips," the nurse said. "I'll go tell the doctor that you're awake."

"Is my mom here?"

The nurse gave me a sympathetic, almost awkward look. "She's not here at the moment, but I'm sure she'll be back." Then she smiled. "I'll be right back." She quickly waltzed over to the door, nearly knocking over someone outside in the process. "Oh good, you're here. He's awake now."

"Aunt Kim?" I asked, seeing her walk into the room.

"Hi Bailey," my aunt said, as she hurried over to hug me.

I had barely sat up in the bed, and had time to get one arm around her before she pulled away. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Where's my mom at?"

"Bailey…" she started to say.

A male voice bounced off the walls and ceiling. "Bailey! Good to see you're awake."

"Doctor Thompson," Aunt Kim said quietly, as she moved away.

"You've had a rough couple of nights," Dr. Thompson said.

"Couple of nights?" I asked. "Why am I here? Where's my mom?"

Doctor Thompson closed the door behind him, and then strolled over to sit upon the windowsill. He was a younger doctor, perhaps in his thirties. His blond hair glimmered slightly in the sunlight. Then he revealed his goofy smile. It seemed like it came straight from the reject pile of a toothpaste commercial. Basically he was that quintessential doctor, on that show, that all the women wanted to be with. Only beneath it all, you could tell he was an absolute geek; Screech with Zack's looks.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Dr. Thompson said. "And I'm going to try my best to answer them." He folded his arms across his chest. "Hopefully I can make this ordeal as painless as possible for you."

"What ordeal?" I asked, pushing myself up in bed.

"Right to business," Dr. Thompson said.

"Probably best that we do it that way," my aunt said.

"Bailey…" Doctor Thompson looked at me thoughtfully. "When you came into the emergency room, the EMT's said you were suffering from acute pain to the lower abdominal area." He paused as if expecting me to recall the situation. Then he gestured to the area on his own body for added effect. "Well… when we learned about your medical history, and started to address the issue, we found a much more serious issue."

I smirked slightly. "You found out I was really a boy under the skirt?"

Doctor Thompson smiled at my remark. "Well I think we all knew that from the start," he said. "But no, that wasn't the issue." He took a moment to compose himself again. "We discovered an untreated case of testicular torsion. From my best guess, it occurred from an injury several months ago. I'd say in the summer."

"Wait…" I said. "What is that?"

"Testicular torsion," Dr. Thompson said. "It's when the cord, which supplies blood to the testes, is twisted and the blood supply is cut off." As he made the twisting motion with his hands, it made me cringe. "It would have been a sharp pain, much like the one you felt before arriving here."

"That…" I suddenly recalled the painful interaction with Tiffany at the pool party. "That happened almost a year ago." I looked up at Doctor Thompson. "Doctor Dinesh said I was fine."

"Well you might have been if it untwisted on it's own," Dr. Thompson said. "If there was no pain present at the time, or if the pain had subsided by the time you saw the other doctor, it might have gone unnoticed. And if the damage had already been done, the area might have been pain free after the fact, or perhaps a slight dull pain for a few hours to a few days."

"What does that have to do with now?" I asked. "What damage? Is that what caused the pain this time?"

"Bailey…" My aunt placed her hand on my arm.

"Your case was unusual, Bailey," Dr. Thompson said. "There were some complications. Not only from the torsion, but from the medications you've been receiving." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "You see the torsion never corrected itself. It did, in fact, cause damage after going unchecked. We found one of your testes already in a state of atrophy. It was basically dead from lack of blood flow."

I pushed myself up in the bed some more. "What are you saying?"

"As I said," Dr. Thompson said. "There were complications. If that had been where the pain originated from…" He straightened. "I'm getting ahead of myself. I apologize if this isn't as delicate as I was hoping to deliver it. I've never had to deliver this kind of news to someone so young."

"Doctor, please," my aunt said.

"Could you please just tell me?" I asked. "I don't like suspense." I felt my aunt's hand on my arm. She was slowly and methodically rubbing it gently up and down.

"Sorry. I understand," Dr. Thompson said. "In that case… Bailey… Your former practitioner has been giving you toxic, not to mention illegal, amounts of medication. It may have even been intentional, but we're unsure at this time. This in turn caused a mass to form on the spermatic cord, which we think was the main cause of the pain you've been experiencing. I believe you said it was for the past few months. Unfortunately the mass we discovered was on the healthy side. The side where the atrophy had not occurred."

I nodded thoughtfully, trying to piece together what the doctor had said. "So you removed this mass and fixed me?"

Doctor Thompson cleared his throat. He glanced at my aunt, and then turned his full attention towards me. "Bailey," he said, sounding even more sincere than I thought possible. "In such cases as these, the general practice is to perform preventative measures. To ensure that, if indeed the mass we encountered was cancerous, that the cancer doesn't spread."

"Your mother thought it would be for the best," my aunt said next to me. "To keep you healthy. So you could have the best chance."

I looked at my aunt. Her eyes were watery. "Chance at what?" I asked. Still not understanding, I looked back to the doctor.

Doctor Thompson looked at me solemnly. "I'm sorry to say this," Dr. Thompson said. "If we were able to save one of them we would have. But unfortunately we had to perform a bilateral inguinal orchiectomy."

"Doctor…" my aunt said, with a slight scolding in her voice. "Non-medical terms…"

"What I'm trying to say," Dr. Thompson said. "Is we had to remove both of your testes. The one that was atrophied could not be saved. And the other we removed for preventative measures, as well as addressing the fits of pain you've been having."

"What!?" I started to kick at the sheets, determined to see if this was some cruel sick joke. "You did what?"

"Bailey!" My aunt tried to hold me down. "Calm down. You'll tear the stitches."

"No," Dr. Thompson said. "Don't restrain him. Bailey… Bailey!" His second calling of my name got my attention. "Perhaps you would like a little privacy?" He gestured to the bathroom. The calmness in his voice made me slightly calm in return.

I started to get up, but my aunt stopped me. "I'll help you," she said, calmly. "You still have the IV in your arm."

I nodded.

My aunt helped me sit up. She slid the covers off of me, and helped me retain some kind of dignity with my robe. The doctor stepped over to the bathroom door. I slipped on a pair of slippers I had never seen before, and tried to stand. Suddenly I could feel a weird sensation in my groin. It felt heavy, yet numb at the same time. With my aunt's help I managed to make it into the bathroom, leaving a crack in the door as it closed.

Doctor Thompson's voice came from the other side of the door. "You're going to have to stay here for a couple of days. We have a few tests to run."

"Your mother should be here as soon as the police are finished with her," my aunt said. "And she'll bring your brother down."

Their voices seemed like distant, muffled nonsense. I could barely grasp the situation at hand, let alone what my aunt was saying about police. I pulled my gown off of my right side, letting it hang off my left shoulder. As I inspected the strange dressing on my lower abdomen, Doctor Thompson continued to talk about abnormal drug cocktails, and legal matters I didn't quite understand. He mentioned once again that the drugs I had been receiving were dangerous in methods and amounts. He mentioned risks of cancer, and the preventative steps they had to make, and how they all hoped I would understand.

I didn't understand. How could I understand? I'd just been dealt the run-down of a life-altering surgery, and the worst explanation as to why it happened. Was this doctor new? Nothing in the world could have prepared me for this change. Not even the lengthiest discussion in Rajan's office. He had said there could be surgeries in the future. I didn't expect the future to be so soon, and without choices. He had always said there would be choices; much, much later.

My fingers traced around the medical tape and gauze on my abdomen. The area below that felt numb and strange. For a moment I closed my eyes, trying to recognize this feeling. It felt unreal, like nothing I had felt before. My fingers moved down further, as my body prepared for the shock I would undoubtedly feel. But I felt nothing. I felt skin… and nothing. It felt like emptiness. My eyes sprang open.

I reached up, pulling my gown back over me. A single tear rolled down my cheek, but my mind couldn't process why at that moment. Maybe I shed a tear for what I had lost. Maybe the tear was for something else entirely. I tied my gown in the back. Looking into the mirror, I saw my hand reach up and wipe the tear away. It felt like someone else had done it, perhaps the girl in the mirror. She flashed a half-hearted smile at me, and a nod. Maybe one day I'll catch her; that elusive girl in the mirror.

I stepped out of the bathroom several minutes later. First I glanced at aunt Kimberly, and then at the doctor. "What's next?" I asked.

---

 
 
This concludes the Seasons of Bailey series, but Bailey will return.