Note: While the genre is horror, this is not a slasher and does not contain gratuitous violence or gore. It is more psychological, mixed with mystery and suspense I hope those of you who shy away from horror will still give it a chance.

Here we go again. I caught the writing bug again. This one is not as long as the Sidereus Prophecy, but it is in the same vein of a very detailed-oriented slow-burn mental transformation. Instead of posting the story in massive chunks, I'll be posting it chapter by chapter. Depending on interest, I will post at the least a new chapter each week. As always, I would like to thank my editor, Robyn Hoode for taking the time to review and make suggestions with regard to my work. Thanks also to my test readers who offered their own suggestions. I know my name doesn't make sense anymore, but it would be more confusing to change it at this point...anyway, enjoy Designer Children!

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Designer Children by OneShot20XX

"The... folly which sees in the child nothing more than the vivisector sees in a guinea pig: something to experiment on with a view to rearranging the world."

George Bernard Shaw, 1913

Chapter 1
The city of dreams and the city of misery. This is what Los Angeles has become to me. Thousands come here, wide-eyed, brimming with talent, eager to make their mark. The siren song that brought us here, however, provided no support, no understanding of the business, no survival instincts, and most importantly- it didn’t warn us. It failed to mention that we weren’t special, unique or outstanding.

My generation were given trophies just for competing. After all, everyone wins. This city, a living breathing entity, erupted in smog-filled laughter as it trampled on our misplaced idealism. I came to Los Angeles after a tragedy, hoping to start fresh. It also wouldn’t have hurt if I’d struck it rich either. After two and a half years of toil with little success, I was convinced I would become a statistic. I would join the ranks of actors who came to Los Angeles and failed.

I called my agent, telling him that I was thinking about quitting. The pretentious Ivy League acting school graduates could boomerang back to mommy and daddy, but I had nowhere else to go. I had seen it before. Once the money dried up or they got tired of being turned down for parts, they left LA, probably to become a lifelong students on their parents’ dime.

I could try and go back to school, but organized education and I had never really meshed. Being an army brat meant moving from school to school, so I found it hard to stay at the top of the class. I wasn’t stupid, but I was the type of kid where teachers would complain, albeit helplessly, “He’s really very smart, but he doesn’t apply himself.” School was a mind-numbing experience- except when I was acting. I had fallen in love with acting the moment I stepped on stage during the third grade Christmas pageant and announced, to glorious applause, that Santa and his reindeer had arrived. It was a bit part, but my teacher hated me. I am convinced that all my teachers hated me, except for one- my acting teacher.

When I first arrived in Los Angeles, I had enough money to take acting lessons twice a week. I devoured the teaching, absorbing technique and method. Every nuance of the craft was fascinating to me. This was why I was so painfully frustrated. Acting was a childhood dream, and it was slowly being crushed by the weight of this city. My agent listened to my sob story, one I am sure he had heard a million times before and sent me on my way.

Miraculously, a few days later, as I was pathetically rolling up my favourite movie posters, desperately trying to conceal them, knowing I would never reach those heights, I received a phone call. It was clear that my agent had made a few calls on my behalf, but I was even more surprised by the potential part.

***
“Have you ever worked with children, Mr. Sullivan?” The prim woman across the table from me looked at me expectantly. She wove a careful smile around full red lips. I knew her type, driven, professional and immaculately dressed. Not a hair out of place, the blonde woman’s navy blue suit, hugged slight curves and long, shapely legs. She was the prototypical Hollywood suit. I had seen so many of her type that I was beginning to think they were taken from an assembly line. I understood, however, that the expectations on women were greater in Hollywood, remaining thin, manicured and plucked at all times. Women were judged more harshly than men, but if I was a thin, beautiful woman, I likely would have seen more success.

I knew that I had a natural charisma, and a certain fearlessness to my manner, especially around women. Actors had to possess magnetism, an ability to captivate an audience not only through speech, but also through gestures. I slowly crossed my legs, mirroring her own stance, knowing it would put her at ease. By adopting the feminine posture, she would see me as an equal, and someone who was non-threatening, but most importantly, someone who could be trusted.

I smiled and lied through my teeth, “Yes. Absolutely. When I was in high school, I was part of the drama club and we helped an elementary school class put on a play. When I got to Los Angeles, I also helped out a community theatre group and gave free acting lessons to kids.”

The young woman’s smile grew, showing perfectly straight teeth. Everyone I met in Los Angeles had nearly perfect teeth, which usually amounted to perfect smiles. My smile was damaged by an errant elbow during a game of non-sanctioned tackle football in high school. Maybe it was actually a fight. I was concussed, so my memory of the event was foggy at best. The tooth wasn’t gone, but it was dead and it was darkened. My parents sent me to the dentist, but they didn’t have the kind of money required for a cosmetic procedure. I hated to think it was one of the reasons I wasn’t getting parts, but with image so important in the movie business, I wouldn’t be surprised.

I added quickly, just as she was beginning to open her mouth to respond, “Oh. And I babysat my cousins a lot. I guess the other examples were probably better though.” I grinned sheepishly. My addition caused her smile to widen. Clearly, she was warming to me. I knew that by interrupting her train of thought, I could divert her from asking me about where I had given the free acting lessons. This was Los Angeles. With the Holy Grail of Hollywood just 12 miles down the road, I could be forgiven for fibbing. Once I got the part, it wouldn’t matter.

She answered, “Oh! I used to babysit my little cousins too. They were such brats! The kids you’ll be working with on the show will be consummate professionals though. I doubt you’ll have any problems.” I hadn’t actually babysat my little cousins, unless tormenting meant the same thing. I never had a younger brother, so my younger cousins were perfect fodder for my boyish antics, which usually involved magical rides in the washing machine and dryer, or a test to see how much hair duct tape would pull out. It was boys will be boys. Harmless and hilarious.

My smile matched her own, “So, what sort of role would I be playing on the show?”
The young woman replied, “Well it would actually be a very big part. One of the lead characters actually. If you are chosen, Mr. Sullivan, we would offer you a twenty four episode deal with a possibility of a lucrative extension. If everything goes well.”
I raised a brow, any words slipping off my tongue. I had never been to an interview before where I felt like I had a legitimate chance at stardom, and while I didn’t relish the idea sharing the stage with prepubescent cast mates, I could always branch out afterward. She responded to my surprise with a gracious smile, “The show will also be broadcast nationally as well as on local affiliates.”

I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping. It was clear that the show, which hadn’t even aired one episode yet, had serious backing. I was nervous before, trying to hide it with a cocksure attitude, but I knew that this could be my last chance to enter the business seriously. I absolutely knew that I could not screw up this audition. It wasn’t ideal, but compared to the bit parts I managed to get, some not even speaking roles, this opportunity was a lifeline to my floundering career. Sweat dribbled down my brow, slid down the bridge and dangled on my nose until a rapid arm swipe removed it. The young woman leaned forward and placed her hands on the table in a gesture clearly meant to calm my nerves. I was starting to regret lying about the work I had done with children. Beyond the woman’s courteous manner, I could also see a hint of amusement in her eyes- a tiny sparkle, but enough to fill me with a measure of anger.

I cleared my throat, feeling the low rumbling rake over my vocal chords. It was more abrupt and far louder than intended. I did have a volcanic temper, but even if the woman found humour in my discomfort, I knew I couldn’t show any actual anger.

“Uh. Maybe you could tell me more about the show.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that I was able to stifle any potential outburst. I once yelled at a casting agent for having the gall to say that I should have attended a ‘real’ acting school if I wanted the part. I had nailed the audition, but the asshole decided I wasn’t right for the part. The other agent disagreed, but it was too late by that point. I had burned another bridge.

The woman replied in the same manner as the interview began- polite and amiable. The amusement was gone from her eyes, and she was once again at the height of professionalism.

“Of course. As I’m sure you are aware, there has been a shift in children’s programming over the past ten years, moving away from simple yet important lessons, and focusing more on entertainment. Most children’s shows and especially movies aim to entertain adults as well as children. Hermie the Hippo is a child-centric program. A lot of research has gone into this, and it’s clear that children who are brought up on programming with entertainment as the first goal are not as developed, both in their social skills and those needed for the first years of school.

“Hermie is a role model for children. He will teach lessons, putting an emphasis on sharing, fair play and manners- but do so in a fun way. We know that entertainment is a critical part of children’s programming, but it must have an educational purpose too. We are hoping to find the balance.”

I wasn’t actually aware of the shift, but I listened to the woman intently, trying desperately to look interested. To be honest, the prospect of a heavy moralistic bent didn’t enthuse me. I would have to speak with conviction and act like I actually lived by my words. At the very least, it would definitely allow me to hone my craft. I felt my class clown persona surface. With a father in the military and the frequent moves, it was the perfect outlet for a child who had to make fast friends, although I doubt my teachers understood or appreciated its importance.

“So there won’t be any wisecracking parakeets or a possum who thinks he’s a pirate? Or maybe a pirate who thinks he’s a possum?”

It was the young woman’s turn to clear her throat, but she did so with far more decorum, with a delicate “ahem” and a firm yet gentle gaze in my direction. “No, Mr. Sullivan. Nothing like that.”

I avoided the woman’s gaze, looking downward. However, when my eyes returned to hers, her expression was once again welcoming. I tried my best to look apologetic before asking, “So is there a script I can read? I want to get my head around this and get a feel for my character. Am I going to be doing an audition?”

It was bizarre that I hadn’t been given a script before the interview. I assumed the audition would follow, but my nerves were starting to resurface, forming a tight ball in my stomach as I fretted over my lack of preparation. Still, what was I going to do, act out a scene from Barney the Dinosaur or Sesame Street?

The woman shook her head gently, “Casting for children’s programming works differently than what you might be used to, Mr. Sullivan. There will be a thorough background check before you are allowed near the children. We will also check your references to ensure you are of good, strong moral character. Our actors may be playing a role, but we are a family, and we want the children you will be working with to trust you like they trust their closest friends and parents. I’m sure that the community theatre director will give you a wonderful reference for the work you did with those children in your neighbourhood.”

I tried not to look devastated, or that I had been caught in a lie. Anxiety ripped any former confidence to shreds, as I uncrossed my legs and allowed my eyes to fall to the floor. A second later, I met the smiling face of the young woman with confidence, knowing that she held my fate in her hands. I hoped that she had not seen my silent yet clear failure to maintain my composure. I looked at the reference and my lies as a stumbling block, but nothing insurmountable. I replied with small smile, “Yeah, I’m sure he will.”

***
I left the lot, feeling a clear sense of purpose. I knew what I had to do to salvage my career. Still, one question swirled in my mind. Why had the casting agent not mentioned any of my previous work? While it was true that my agent would have sent over my electronic media kit, a collection of my best work in digital form (most of it in non-speaking roles) and head shots, none of it was mentioned in the interview. I decided to trust the words of the casting agent, in that, auditions for children’s programs worked differently. Still, I thought it was bizarre that they would go to all the trouble of checking references and conducting a background check before even having me audition. Maybe it was the fact that I was thankful the milk in my fridge was still drinkable three days past the expiry, but the process seemed wasteful.

I made my way to the bus stop, noticing a dazzling young woman sitting on the bench inside the bus shelter. Dazzling was, in fact, an understatement. Her face caught me before the rest of her impressive form. It was perfectly symmetrical, oval shaped, and framed with light greyish-blue eyes. Her bottom lip puckered outward, setting a gentle pout. The only slight flaw I could see was a nose with nostrils just a hair too wide.
In a world where nearly every girl I met at auditions was thin and shapely, it wasn’t surprising that I would become a so-called ‘face man’. The body was a given. There was a standard in Hollywood, and if you did not meet it, you would never enter the golden gates. Certainly there were those like Meg Something. Honestly, I couldn’t remember her name, but I knew she was fat, probably clinically obese, but she was a television star. I remember a show with a plus-sized woman as the star. My mom used to watch it. It was called “Less Than Perfect”. That was all most needed to know about the thin culture in Hollywood.

I accepted it because this was my chosen profession, and to be honest, I liked the outdoorsy fitness types. The girls who would go jogging in Lycra pants, showing off perfectly round asses, tight trim waists, and hopefully, if I was lucky, they were seriously stacked up top. One girl in my building jogged every morning, and I knew I wasn’t the only one in the neighbourhood enjoying her movement. A lot of time, however, these types ended up being but-her-faces. They had fantastic bodies, but they would end up in the background of fitness videos. Was this attitude sexist? Bearing in mind where I lived, and the absolute buffet of thin and trim women, this was my taste. It’s not like I ignored the trim girls with the so-so faces- I just didn’t want to date them.

I entered the shelter and smiled at her, and considering I was a good looking guy, I wasn’t surprised when she smiled back. I knew that I was photogenic, although I was more rugged looking than a fresh-faced all-American boy next door. Still, I was tall and athletic, blessed with the hardy genes of my military father and grandfather and their same shock of reddish-brown hair. Other than my darkened tooth, however, I had one other noticeable defect. Below my deep green eyes, nicely shaped aquiline nose and smiling lips was a weak chin. My chin was recessed, proportionately smaller than my nose. It stood out against my other features like a severe fault line beneath a luxury condo. A casting director had actually told me to fix it if I could afford the operation. Since I wasn’t a trust fund kid, and I could barely make my rent, I knew I would have to accept what to some was a glaring fault.

With the return smile from the young woman, I moved in quickly, edging toward her and then cocking my head to the side with a boyish smirk lining my face. “You know you look a lot like Megan Fox.” Before I had a chance to add “but better”, she regarded me with a look of disgust. Her pretty face creased as her jaw twisted to the side, those full plump lips formed an instant scowl.

She replied, “So I look like a talentless slut who slept her way to the top and ruined her natural beauty with plastic surgery?” As I stared at her dumbstruck, she added, “Thanks.” Her voice was saccharine, despite her annoyance.

I threw up my arms in surrender, “Whoa. Hey! OK, so she’s not your favourite. It was just a compliment. No need to bite my head off. I mean I said you looked like her, not that you acted like her. But come on, she’s a legit talent.”

The young woman laughed bitterly, “Sure. So screaming for half a movie and running in heels constitutes acting talent? And bending over cars?” She was, of course, referencing the iconic moment in the first Transformers movie in which Megan’s character stands over the engine of a car clad only in a white crop top.

I sighed deeply, deeply regretting ever coming onto her. I knew her type, and as hot as her body was, and despite the near perfection of her face, it was never worth it. As I turned to leave the shelter, she said, “So I’m right.” I felt my jaw clench as I bit hard onto her line.

I turned back to her and regarded her seriously, “Look. We don’t know what happened with her and directors or whatever, but come on. She sold that movie with that scene alone. She’s never going to do Shakespeare but she sells tickets. That’s all that matters. Uh…can I just slink away now? Let’s just forget we ever spoke.”

She snorted in derision, which like her general personality, was very unattractive. “See this is the problem with Hollywood. Not only is there no creativity but it’s rife with sexism. She sure as hell wouldn’t be selling those tickets if she was thirty pounds heavier. There’s ageism too in Hollywood. As soon as a woman turns forty, she can’t be cast as the attractive lead. No, she has to be Adam Sandler’s wife, playing host to a bunch of man children and being cast as the bitch who ruins their man children fun. You know I’m really glad I got the call back for Hermie because it’s probably the only real wholesome show left on TV.”

I cleared my throat, “Says the girl who looks like her. Look you chose this business, you live with it. That’s how I live. You don’t like something you bail. The industry has worked like this forever. As for Hermie, all that bullshit about family and sharing or whatever. It’s still about making money. And kids don’t act like they did on Barney. I know I didn’t.” I probably should have held off on responding to her rant, especially since she had received a callback (something I had yet to achieve), but her manner just reeked of over confidence. She seemed like a know-it-all who despite her incredible looks was not worth the trouble. She had probably paid the mortgage on her therapist’s house, and half the cost of his/her sailboat.

The young woman’s lip curled into a snarl. She looked like she wanted to rip out my intestines and strangle me with them. A little smirk appeared on my face- I had scored a point. Thankfully, before she could reply or disembowel me, the bus arrived. She lifted herself off the bench to see the number but proceeded to sit back down.
As I was leaving the bus shelter, I turned back to her, “Nice chat. Not your bus?”
She narrowed her eyes and addressed me with a scowl that marred her pretty features. She hissed, “No.”

I laughed, feeling the weight of a thousand moons fall from my shoulders, “Thank God, Allah, Buddah and whoever else is listening.” She made a noise akin to cornered feline, and I added with a smile, “Things will never change. Just deal with it.”

With that, I boarded the bus, satisfied that I had seemingly won, although slightly concerned that I had burned a bridge I hadn't even crossed.

Still, there was no way that woman was going to get the part. She would probably argue with the director that the scenery was sexist and that the flowers were mating with the trees.

***
“Ryan, let me understand this. You told them that you worked with kids? Like actual kids? You hate kids. You switch tables every time a family comes in here.”
I frowned, looking at my colleague, both at the Burger Palace and in the acting world, with disappointment, “Greg, I don’t hate kids. We just don’t get along. They are annoying to no end and I have no patience.”

Greg ran his hands through his non-existent hair. The man was bald, not balding- and he hadn’t accepted it yet. He shaved it thinking he would be a cross between Vin Diesel and Jason Statham, but he was neither, looking more like an egg with an unfortunate face painted on it. “Yes, you do. How are you going to get along with the kids on that show? Even if you get the audition, it will be obvious that you don’t like them.”

I smiled, deftly snatching a platter of massive burgers and slipping it under my arm. The Burger Palace was a hamburger joint, but it prided itself on the absolute strangest, yet delicious combinations. To most, jalapeno peppers, sour cream, teriyaki sauce and red licorice bits would be the last thing mashed between hamburger buns, but it was actually a favourite. “I’ll just act like I’m enjoying myself. It will. Be. My greatest role!” I said the last words in a hammy British accent with some William Shatner thrown in for good measure. Actors were chameleons, able to adapt to any scene or role. If, Will Smith gained weight and learned how to box for the Muhammad Ali biopic, I could learn to get along with a couple of tweens.

I returned a minute later for my next order, but Greg blocked my path before I could leave, “Listen man, I don’t like lying. I’m not good at it. Can’t you get someone else to be your reference for the community centre?”

I shook my head, “Think of it like a part. You are Mr. Lionel Ferguson, community theatre director. You have one job, and that is to make me sound like I am 100% in love with the notion of working with kids. Make something up. Use your talents, man. I saw you in that indie flick Sirens, and you were great.”

Greg shrugged and threw a few hamburger patties on the grill, “But I really studied for that role. And I had a script to work off. I don’t do great with adlibbing.”

I smiled and put my hand on Greg’s shoulder. He turned the patties, and I said, “So write a little script then. You always said you wanted to get into writing.” I leaned in close and added, “Look, I’ll sweeten the deal.”

Greg furrowed his brow, “Hmm. How? You're broke.”

I nodded, “Alright, listen- if you do this for me, I will take your shift next Friday night, and every Friday night for a month.”

Greg perked up, a tiny smile lining his face, “Really? So-“

I grinned, “Yup, you can spend those nights with Eve.”

Greg’s girlfriend, Eve, was a nurse, but their schedules never seemed to match up to give them any solid quality time. The steady business at the restaurant and high turnover meant that we were nearly always busy. The hospital Eve worked at had similar turnover issues, not amongst the nursing staff, but fewer cleaning staff and administrative personnel meant a greater burden on the nurses. We got days off and our boss was good with letting us go to auditions, but Eve always seemed to be working when we got a day off. Friday was the only day with absolute certainty that Eve and Greg could ‘enjoy each other’s company’.

Greg nodded his head rapidly, “You’ve got a deal, but you think Vince will go for it? What if there is a whole boatload of pint-sized tourists come to sample what LA has to offer, hmm? You going to serve them with a smile?”

I nodded, “You better believe it. I can turn it on, just like when I’m in front of the cameras and I have to sing some stupid kids song or whatever. And Vince knows who really runs this place.”

Greg looked at me sagely, “Aren’t you worried about being typecast though? What if you have some success with this show, but all you can get are kids’ shows? You’ll never be in that remake of Goodfellas or any movie with a gun for that matter. Ryan. I told you that you can come live with me and then you can be choosier with your parts. I don’t get why you have to be so stubborn with this. You are crazy not having a roommate in this city and working a minimum wage job.”

He added with a sardonic smirk, “You into some weird shit or something? I won’t judge you man, like if you have a bunch of store mannequins in your bedroom. To each his own. You don’t name them do you?”

I shook my head, returning the smirk, “If you think it, you’ve jacked it, man.” I grew more serious, “I just like to be able to leave when I want you know? Like if I have to go I don’t want a bunch of baggage. Plus, you’d probably cry if I left.”

Greg shook his head, “No, I’d be like good riddance and ask Eve to live with me.”
I laughed and slipped the platter with the now prepared hamburgers under my arm, “You coward, it took you three months to ask her out. At this rate, maybe you two can enjoy the same retirement home together.”

Greg replied with a measure of anger, “I’m going to ask her, when I’m ready. I just need to plan out what I’m going to say.”

I shook my head, “Just roll with it, man. If she’s into you, she’ll agree. And don’t go saying that it makes financial sense or something like that. Say that you want to be with her, that you love her.”

Greg looks at me incredulously, “Sure, the guy who has never had a real relationship in his life is giving me dating tips. You know Eve’s friend Jessica? She really liked you. Liked as in past tense. You never called her back after our double date.”

I shrugged, “I just wasn’t into her.” I took the burgers, which were quickly cooling and brought them to the table, apologizing for the wait. We were selling gourmet burgers, but the Burger Palace was still a fast food joint, emphasis on fast.

It was nearing the end of my shift, and I was hoping to get out without any additional words about my relationship status, but as I slipped another platter underneath my arm, Greg said flatly, “Ryan, I’m your friend, but you’ve got impossible standards. I hate to say it, but you are shallow. What was wrong with Jessica? Eve figured you two would click perfectly. She’s an aspiring fitness model for god sakes. And she is really smart and funny.”

I sighed heavily. Greg was a good friend, but his interference in my love life was starting to grate on my nerves. His voice was one fingernail on the chalk board and then another, until it was screeching in my ear like some classroom torture session. “You want to know why? Because she just started talking about this shit I didn’t understand. Yeah she’s a fitness model, but most of them don’t have much going on up there. She was talking about physiology and structures and all this shit that went over my head. And she’s just looking at me like she expects this really smart response. And I make a joke about fitness models and cars, and she looked at me all pissed off.”

Greg frowned, “Your joke was sexist. And demeaning.”

I shook my head, “It was hilarious. A contortionist and a fitness model having sex in a car, and they can’t agree on the position. I’ve told it to other girls and they laughed.”
Greg sighed, “It’s just, well Eve didn’t like it either. I don’t like her saying stuff about you, but she made a comment. It’s cool to tell jokes like that back here, but maybe lay off in front of Eve.”

I glared at Greg, angrily lifting the last platter of the night and said, “OK. I’m shallow. Check. I’m sexist. Check. Anything else?” The second Greg opened his mouth, I said, “Fuck you, Greg.” He went back to work, and I punched out a few minutes later with neither of us saying a word.

***
True to his word, and despite the fact that I had told him off, Greg played the role of Lionel Ferguson perfectly. I knew this because Ms. Daniels, the casting director for Hermie the Hippo called me a few days after my argument with Greg, saying that I had landed the audition after an absolutely glowing reference. I had a few second thoughts about the audition and the show in general. Would I be typecast if I won the part, negating any chance that I would be considered for movies or TV with anything more than cartoon violence?

Growing up, I loved watching gangster movies. Even from a young age, I remember sitting down with my dad watching the Godfather trilogy, Scarface and Goodfellas. Since my mother didn’t approve, we had to do it when she wasn’t there. So when she went to play cards or watch TV with one of the other army wives, I’d sit next to my dad in complete silence and stare in awe at what unfolded. It didn’t matter how many times we saw the movies, it was always special. We didn’t even speak about them after, but it was what we did together. My dad also taught me how to shoot, how to fix cars and, how to fight.

He told me when I was six years old, “Ryan, I’m going to teach you how to fight. You can be such a little shit sometimes, it’s probably a good idea you know how to protect yourself.”

I felt a weight crushing down on my skull, a throbbing in my temples and tightening in my chest. While for some it might have indicated a heart attack, I knew better. The memory of my dad’s passing struck hard, and I took a step back. It wasn’t something I liked to discuss, especially since I was aware how much it affected me.
My dad didn’t mince words. He meant everything he said, and he was right- I was a little shit sometimes.

I was preparing for my audition for the part of Mr. Grant, the music store owner. I looked around the room, the only room of my bachelor apartment, searching for the only object I would need to win the part. The place was a pigsty, with empty containers of takeout from Burger Palace lining my coffee table. Dirty dishes filled the sink and half the kitchen counter, while some plates had actually toppled over onto each other. I wasn’t disgusting. I always rinsed all the dishes, removing any remaining food from them, but I hated doing dishes, so once a week was all I could take. Now, if I was bringing a girl home, I would clean the washroom, do the mountain of dishes and if I had time, maybe I would sweep the floor.

The bathroom was key. I knew that any girl was likely to use the bathroom at some point, whether to freshen up or check their hair, or do whatever else girls did in there beyond emptying their bowels and bladders. So, if the bathroom was clean, I was golden.

My couch, which was also my bed, was the likely culprit hiding the object I sought. I reached inside the cushions, digging deep into the confines of the couch. I pulled out all manner of discarded junk food, an empty condom wrapper, an unpaid parking ticket (from when I still had a car), until finally, I pricked my finger on something metallic and my eyes lit up. I pulled out a small golden pin from the couch. It was originally an embroidered green and gold bar worn horizontally on the arm of my father’s uniform, and it represented his first successful combat tour in Afghanistan. During this overseas tour was around the time I raised the most hell, staying out way past curfew, drinking, smoking pot and generally fitting every teenage stereotype you could think of- save getting the girl next door pregnant, although that almost happened. I drove my mother crazy with both rage and worry. I hated her with a passion at times just because she wasn’t my dad.

After he was killed, my mom gave me his army jacket. A stipulation in his will stated that I was supposed to receive it upon his death. I may have been a hell raiser, but I wasn’t disrespectful toward my father’s military tradition. I never wore his jacket (which would have been inappropriate), but I removed the green and gold bar and made a pin out of it. It was from his first and last successful overseas tour in Afghanistan, and while it wasn’t mine, I wore it proudly as his son. It was a reminder of what he had given to his country. As many lines as I would try with girls, I never, ever told anyone that it was mine. Even if Megan Fox had told me she was into military guys who had been in combat zones, I wouldn’t have used it. It was a piece of my dad, his sacrifice and my memory.

I never went anywhere without it, even auditions to lame kids’ shows.

***
“Mr. Sullivan, you will be auditioning with Ms. Perkins. Please go right in and have a seat next to her.”

Ms. Daniels, the casting director, followed in behind me, and I was thankful for this because my face upon entry was hidden from view. The young woman from the bus stop glared at me, her face immediately darkening. My expression was one of disappointment mixed with disgust, my teeth jutting forward, biting down gently on my lip, while my eyes tried their best to vacate my skull. Being professionals, however, we composed ourselves and by the time Ms. Daniels could see our faces, we were pleasantly shaking hands.

I said, while shaking Ms. Perkins’ hand, “Good luck with the audition, Ms. Perkins.”
I didn’t even shake it firmly to cause slight discomfort (which is what I wanted to do). No, I was the perfect gentleman, cordial and polite.

A little smile appeared on her face, one I had seen before. It was the type of smile girls gave me when they knew I wanted something more than they did- usually sex. It usually meant an abundance of foreplay. It was leverage in a relationship, and from the few times I had seen it, it was never good. For the record, I had no issue with foreplay, but I enjoyed the act of sex far more. If I thought a girl was really worth it, then I would put the time in ... otherwise. Was it selfish? It probably was, but I was ready from the moment I was tenting my shorts.

If I was in bed with a perfectly stacked blonde with an incredible ass, and a lean frame, did I want to play with her? No. Most guys know that foreplay is a tease. It’s like the pre-game warmup to the biggest game of the year, the Superbowl. Only the most die-hard fans of either team want to sit down and watch a bunch of guys stretch their quad muscles or groins, but because they are invested in the game and it is part of the experience, they put up with it. That is foreplay to most men. We would fast forward it if we could, and sometimes I tried.

Ms. Perkins said, “Oh, actually I’m just doing a reading with you. I’ve already been cast. I’m Ashley by the way.”

I smiled, but it was pained with the knowledge that this young woman held the fate of my career in her hands. If she purposely bungled her lines, it could seriously throw off my timing. I said, “Nice to meet you, I’m Ryan.”

Ms. Daniels looked at us oddly for a moment, but quickly regained her composure, “OK. So Ryan, you will be playing the role of Mr. Grant. I believe we sent a script. Is that correct?” I nodded quickly. She continued, “And Ms. Perkins is playing the role of Madison.”

Ashley asked, “But isn’t that one of the kid roles on the show? I’d prepared a different scene.”

I liked Ashley less and less the more time I spent with her. She had a whiney lilt to her voice. It screamed “Daddy’s girl not getting her way”. Not only that, but she was complaining when she already had the part. I would have read any part they wanted and done it with a smile.

Ms. Daniels said calmly, “Unfortunately the young actress playing Madison was unavailable today, but since your character is in the scene, we thought it would work if you read with Mr. Sullivan.”

Ms. Daniels was an attractive thirty-something woman. She was a little heavier than I liked, but as she turned around to fetch a script for Ashley, I enjoyed a peek at her round bottom. I was surprised by how well she filled out the skirt, because while her top showed a less than firm stomach, her heart-shaped ass was impressive. It lacked the sag in most women her age, and the red skirt she chose really highlighted not only the shape, but the firmness.

Baby Got Back started playing in my head, however, before I could veer away (I had only peeked), Ashley caught me looking. She glowered and crossed her arms underneath her chest. Ms. Daniels returned with the script a second later, but Ashley still looked like she wanted to scratch my eyes out. I was starting to have second thoughts about working on a set with someone who was clearly a man-hater. I didn’t see my actions as wrong. It was just a little peek.

Ms. Daniels handed the script to Ashley. She said softly, completely ignoring the growing tension in the room. “So in this scene, Mr. Grant has caught Madison stealing a plastic flute from his store. Mr. Sullivan, your line is first.” She handed Ashley a plastic flute.

I looked at Ashley, who still appeared furious with me, and stared straight into her eyes. I tilted my head and a gentle smile formed. The timbre of my voice was deliberate. I was channelling Mr. Rogers without the accent. It was a soft tone, still masculine and firm, but understanding and patient, part teacher and part librarian. I acted as if I was speaking to a child who needed to learn an important lesson. “Madison, I know that you think that because the flute doesn’t cost very much that it was OK to take it, but it’s never OK to take something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ashley looked at me with a measure of surprise. Her gorgeous greyish-blue eyes widened momentarily, and then she herself got into character, slumping her shoulders and refusing to meet my eyes. Her eyes darted back and forth, but I remained steady, simply looking forward, awaiting my response. She pushed out her bottom lip, and honestly, I thought she was overdoing it. “But I-I…wanted it!” I sighed gently, again thinking she was overacting.

I shook my head, “You can’t have everything you want. I know that you spent your allowance on that little pink tambourine. You worked hard for that money, right?”

Ashley nodded, and I tried to avoid rolling my eyes, as she stuck her lip out further and proceeded to speak in a baby voice, “Pwease, Mr. Grant, don’t tell mommy or daddy.”
She was trying to sabotage me, hoping I would break character. Her character was supposed to be six or seven. She sounded like a three year old, but I didn’t bite.
I replied gently but firmly, “Did you work hard for your money, Madison?”

She nodded her head slowly, a hint of irritation displayed in her eyes. They remained half closed and tight, that swirl of blue and grey a seething ocean, but a moment later she relaxed, returning to character, “Yes. I cleaned my room. And I put away my toys. And I helped mommy dry the dishes after supper.”

I smiled and left my chair, proceeding to kneel in front of Ashley. I looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I work hard for my money too. I have to clean the store, order new instruments, fix broken ones and I have to do inventory. That means counting all the items I have in the store. When you steal from me, it hurts me and my store, but I know it hurts you too, Madison. Do you feel bad?”

Ashley nodded glumly and I continued, “There’s a feeling you get when you do bad things. It starts in your feet and it goes all the way up until it gets to your head. Kind of like when you get stuck in a prickly bush, but it’s a feeling in your head. It's called guilt, and it’s normal. You should feel bad when you steal because you hurt me. You make me feel sad because you are my best customer.”

Ashley looked at me with fear in her eyes. She was playing the scene with improved inflection, and she even sounded more like her character’s age. “I-I’m really sorry, Mr. Grant. I don’t like that feeling. And I don’t want you to be mad at me.” She said those words, but she didn’t relinquish the flute.

I stayed kneeling, “You’ve got it. If you don’t do bad things, you will never feel that way. Now what you did was just a mistake. Girls your age will make them. Adults too. We all feel guilty sometimes because of the mistakes we make. The trick is to really think about what you are doing before you do it. Think about how taking that flute would make others around you feel. How would your mommy and daddy feel if they knew it, or your grandma?”

Ashley answered timidly, “T-they would be sad.” At this point, Ashley was cradling the little plastic flute in her hands, bringing it close to her chest.

As the scene continued, I noticed something fascinating unfolding. Once Ashley started playing her part appropriately, we had real chemistry. The misplaced man-hating anger that she had played perfectly into the conflict she displayed throughout the scene. She looked like a little girl who was half angry at being caught and half terrified at the consequences of her actions. I imagined that a real little girl might react in a similar manner, especially if she was as stubborn as Ashley. She held firmly onto the flute, knowing her behaviour was wrong but still desperately wanting what she desired.
I asked, “Can you give me the flute back, please?” I stood up and reached my hands out expectantly. Ashley slowly brought the flute toward my waiting hands. She looked down the entire time, seemingly ashamed of her behaviour, but resolute in her unwillingness to give up.

I said, “That prickly feeling in your brain- your guilt. It won’t go away until you give me the flute, Madison. You want to feel good about yourself, right? That can bring a warm feeling in your tummy. It’s like drinking a big gulp of hot chocolate. And doing the right thing can make those around you feel better too. I know I will be very happy if you do the right thing.”

I was putting on an Emmy award-winning performance because I didn’t believe a word of the (as my father would say), claptrap the scene was attempting to sell to its impressionable audience. I wasn’t a parent, but there’s no way I would dance around the issue so much. A big gulp of hot chocolate? Bullshit. I would tell the kid what they did wrong and tell them I would tell their goddamn parents next time they did. Or I’d call the police and put a real scare into them.

Kids were extremely annoying. Case in point- the bus on my way home from the initial interview. There was a seat available on the side. It was where the strollers go, or people with wheelchairs, but since I didn’t see anyone like that on the bus, I moved toward it and quickly sat down. Immediately upon sitting down, this brat, a long-haired little girl screams, “Mommy, I don’t want that man sitting next to me!” Her mother, an overweight blonde, who might have caught my eye ten years and twenty pounds ago asked me, “W-Would you mind sitting somewhere else? I’m sorry, she’s very particular about who sits next to her.”

I tried to explain that she was indulging her daughter and giving her a sense of entitlement, but the girl’s shrieking high-pitched voice was enough to set many concerned eyes on the scene. I grumbled and switched seats, but not before telling the young mother, “She’s probably going to hate you when she’s a teenager. You know because when she’s trying to sleep around and you tell her no, she won’t like you very much. But it’ll be too late because she’ll already think she can do whatever she wants.”
There was one half-hearted clap from the middle-aged man sitting across from us, but other than that, I received some serious jeers.

“How dare you speak that way in front of a child!?”

“You don’t know anything because you aren’t a parent!”

I wasn’t ashamed of what I said. Kids needed to understand from a young age how the world worked. My dad explained to me about what he did when he went away, and instead of fabricating some childhood fear scenario, I had the truth. He didn’t tell me about any of the gory details, but he explained his life as a soldier. I appreciated it. The more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I could put up with Hermie the Hippo’s constant moralizing.

As I was thinking this, I felt the little plastic flute as it was gently pushed into my waiting hands.

Ms. Daniels said, “Wonderful! You two were excellent together. Ms. Perkins, you played your part expertly. Mr. Sullivan, I would like to speak to you privately.”

I nodded and Ashley left the room, but not before casting another glare in my direction. For all her feminist spirit, she did have an unbelievable body. I watched her ass, clad in a pair of tight low-rise jeans, wiggle out of the room.

My eyes were still firmly planted on Ashley’s ass, when Ms. Daniels spoke. My eyes jetted back to hers, and oddly, the smile never left her face, “I was very impressed with this scene Mr. Sullivan. I’m going to meet with the other casting agents and discuss your potential casting. I must say-” she crossed her legs seductively, and I couldn’t help but look. As my eyes returned to her face, I noticed the imperfections, and it was like an immediate cold shower. The faint lines around her eyes and mouth, and the very minute drooping jowl that had developed where I expected elfin cheekbones once stuck out prominently. The thick bags underneath her eyes couldn’t be entirely concealed either. Her seductive pose was forgotten. She continued a moment later, “- that my vote will go to you, Mr. Sullivan.”

Did she want me to sleep with her for the part, so she could entice the others? I suppose I could, but it would have to be doggy style. Missionary would require seeing her face. She uncrossed her legs, and whatever sexual tension we had vanished in an instant. We might as well have been at a church picnic.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Sullivan. We will be in touch.”

***
“Oh. Hell. No.”
I looked up, in the middle of texting Greg the good news about the audition, and there was Ashley, sitting on the bench in the same spot where I met her after my initial interview. She dangled her right foot over her left while sitting cross-legged. The girl’s body language said she was exhausted, slumped shoulders and sagging head. The moment she heard my voice, however, her head shot up and her body followed suit. Her jaw shifted forward and her eyes pierced into me like white-hot flame through a steel girder.

If I hadn’t met her there, I likely wouldn’t have engaged her at a later meeting, but I was still upset about how she started the reading. “What the hell was your problem in there? You were trying to screw up my audition.”

Ashley played coy, “Me? Really. It wasn’t my intention. Like I said at the beginning. I wasn’t ready for that scene. I had to figure it out as it went along.”

I shook my head and entered the bus shelter. I adopted an aggressive stance, my legs shoulder-width apart and arms stretched out, holding onto the sides of the shelter, effectively blocking her path. “Like hell you didn’t. You’re just a man-hating bitch. Admit it. Well despite your stunt, Ms. Daniels said that I’m a front-runner. So you might have to just suck it up because we could be working together.”

Ashley looked diminutive with my height and her sitting position, she might as well have been that same frightened child who stole a little plastic flute. I could see, however, the courage rising in her. I saw it first in her eyes as the flames returned. Seconds later, she strode past me, snatched the phone from my hand and started playing on it.

She turned back to me. Her eyes flashed with new found bravado as I looked at her agape. “I’m not a man-hater. I just hate assholes, and you- are a colossal one. You are the male archetype. You are everything wrong with your gender. I mean I saw you staring at Ms. Daniels’ ass. Then you made this little grossed out face when you saw her front. You practically undressed me with your eyes when we first met. And I bet you ogled me when I left the room, right? Admit it.”

I shouted, “You’re crazy! I’m- I’m not doing that.”

She said matter-of-factly, “Then you aren’t getting your phone back.”

I threw up my hands, knowing that she held the cards. She could yell and then things would end badly for me. Either way I looked at it, we were in a public space, and if I got near her, I was sure to draw attention- negative attention. As brash as I could be, I wasn’t brain dead.

I approached her, keeping a good five feet between us and held out my hand expectantly, “Yeah. Alright, I did. But every guy does it. Married ones, ones with girlfriends, it doesn’t matter. It’s the way we are wired. I mean you can’t tell me that girls don’t dress that way so they get attention. I mean you chose those jeans instead of a pair of sweats. A part of you must like the attention.”

Ashley made a buzzer noise, “Wrong answer, asshole! Do you think maybe Ms. Daniels wore that skirt because she was proud of her body? And she wanted to show it off? Do you really think the only reason I wore these jeans is so you could picture them being peeled off my body? Wow. You are so clueless. I was wrong. You are King of the Assholes. Destined for a partial comb over trying to date girls half your age.”

She started playing on my phone. I drew closer, enough to see that she was looking through my contacts. “Next test. These girls on your phone. Did you date any of them longer than three months? Brittany, Sarah, Monique, Trisha, Kimberly. Any of them? What about this one Jessica?”

I sighed, “No. None of them. They just weren’t right. Jessica, well she was different. We went on one date, but it just didn’t work out. I was actually going to call her again soon though.”

Ashley hissed, “Bullshit. What was wrong with her?”

My anger was growing. I could feel it within the pit of my stomach and on the balls of my feet. I was nearly shaking. I was the firework from the 4th of July that never wanted to light at first. Ashley had lit the fuse and it was gradually shortening. “I’m not telling you! I don’t owe you anything. You don’t know who I am, what I’ve been through.”

Ashley shook her head, “Let me guess. Your high school sweetheart dumped you at the prom, now you lash out at these women because you haven’t grown up. Am I right? I am, aren’t I?”

I glared at her, “I could say the same about you. But no, you were probably such a bitch in high school all the guys called you the ice queen. Probably turned your first boyfriend’s dick into a popsicle.”

Ashley said, “Nice joke. Maybe you could retell it to Jessica? Maybe too we’ll have a little chat about you. A little warning to help a sister out. Something about you and the fact you have the emotional maturity of a seventh grader.” She looked down and hit the call button.

“Hello?”

Before Ashley could answer, I propelled myself forward, throwing my arm out to snatch the phone. I was successful in recapturing the phone, but my action unfortunately thrust my body into her much lighter frame. In the process of regaining my phone, I also knocked her over. The girl flew into the side of the bus shelter, hitting her shoulder hard against the plastic glass. I immediately moved to help her up, hoping she would at least appreciate my gentlemanly gesture.

Her hand was nearly burning to the touch. The girl seemed to be running a seriously high fever. Before I could ask her what was wrong, however, I noticed the bus coming, and a busload of people seeing a fallen young woman next to a man, it screamed potential assault charges, so I started rapidly walking away from the scene, hoping no one had seen me knock Ashley over.

Now I was certain, more than ever, that Ashley would do everything in her power to make sure I would never get the part.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Designer Children by OneShot20XX

Chapter 2

“Yeah, most men do look. But did you really have to bait her like that? Girls like that, you need to give them a wide berth. I mean she could tell the casting people for the show that you made a move on her or worse that you pushed her. You need to think about things more, man. I still don’t think this show is a great idea for your career either. Have you given any thought about maybe moving in with me?”

It was the next day and the Burger Palace was bustling. Greg was busy frying a host of all-bacon patties, the Palace’s newest concoction, and lecturing me. He might as well have been wearing a giant hippo head.

Still, I was conflicted, not only because I was still wrestling with the idea that Hermie the Hippo went against how I was brought up, but I wondered if I could even work with Ashley, or if the animosity we shared would spill out onto the set.

I replied, “I didn’t bait her. She just lashed out.”

Greg shook his head while turning over a patty, “Ryan, the way you told it, and the way I understand it- you accused her of trying to sabotage your audition.”

I glared at my friend, “She definitely was. She gave this lame excuse about trying to get into character.”

Greg frowned and put the prepared burgers on the plates, accompanied by the Palace’s famous sweet potato fries, “Is it possible that that is exactly what she was doing?”

My words caught in my throat, choking any potential anger I felt toward Greg and what amounted to a reasonable explanation for Ashley’s behaviour. When I finally spoke, the words tumbled out, “I mean, I guess you could be right. But she’s a psycho. I told you how she took my phone and started messing with, right? She called Jessica and threatened to tell her stuff. ”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, OK so she’s a little unhinged. There’s usually reasons for that. Just be a complete gentleman around her. And for god sakes stop looking at her like you usually do.”

I raised a brow as I slipped the platter of burgers under my arm, “What do you mean like I usually do?”

Greg replied, “Let me put it this way. You are the rubbernecker at the scene of the car accident who is driving 5 miles per hour. It’s OK to look, but you are taking in the whole scene like you are the EMT.”

I shook my head, “I don’t do that.”

Greg frowned but said nothing. I reaffirmed my point curtly, “I don’t.”

I left with the platter. I took a few minutes to wipe down a table and reset the utensils and condiments at a table that had been recently vacated. I restocked the napkin holders and then returned to Greg, ready to change the topic of our conversation.

“So, I’m thinking that I might call Jessica. See if she wants to get a drink or maybe some dinner.”

I couldn’t see Greg’s face, but I knew he was smiling, and once I reached the side of the grill, my suspicions were confirmed. We spoke often during our shifts, but we were always doing something. If I wasn’t getting drinks or wiping down the counter for the next round of burgers, I was sweeping, but I did so without thinking, my arms moving mechanically in any tasks as I engaged in conversation.

Greg said with a slight smirk, “What changed your mind?

I sighed, “Guess. As much as I hate to admit it, that psycho has a point. I’m twenty-two years old, and I haven’t had a relationship longer than two months. I don’t usually get past the second date with most of them. I see what you and Eve have and I’m-“

Greg broke into a wide grin, “Jealous?”

I furrowed my brow, curling my lip into a slight sneer, “Not exactly. It’s just got me thinking though. Maybe I should give Jessica another chance. We got along real well, and she’s really, really hot. I mean she makes psycho look like a member of the K-9 unit.”

Greg looked frustrated momentarily, the smile dropping from his face, but he quickly adopted it again. “Lucky her. What makes you think she’ll be interested? You never called her after our double. What can you offer her exactly? And isn’t she too smart for you? ” The last words were said with a disapproving tone.

I answered immediately with a cocksure grin, “A night of incredible sex. My apology for not calling her back. Oh and it will be the best she’s ever had. I’ll even do foreplay for however long it takes to get her really revved up.”

Greg shook his head in clear disappointment, “Jessica doesn’t seem like that kind of girl. And here’s one thing I notice with girls, they don’t really care about this one-upmanship we do, you know? Like Eve and I were going at it the other night and I got her to go. Well I am feeling pretty damn proud of myself, and I ask her. Did any of your other boyfriends get you off like that?”

“Well she says it ruined the moment because you know it was just between us, it didn’t matter how the others were. It was our moment, our connection or whatever. The second I brought her old boyfriends into it, it was like a game. A competition. Women, at least women like Eve, don’t see sex like that.”

I said sardonically, “Maybe you should be the one to get the part on Hermie. You sure are preachy, man.”

Greg replied, “I’m just trying to explain how things went down between us. I know not all girls are the same, but Jessica seems like the type who would want an emotional connection more than just sex. Maybe she will be good for you.”

I was amazed to think that my encounter with Ashley could actually be a springboard to a state of mind where serious relationships were a possibility, but it was also Greg’s statement about my apparent shallowness that got me thinking that Jessica might be a good break from the women I usually dated.

From the moment Ashley brought up Jessica’s name and threatened to tell her damaging lies about my character, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Was I really threatened by Jessica’s intelligence, or was it something else?

Because I moved so often as a kid, I probably had difficulty reconciling the fact that any friendships I made were going to be temporary. It was one of the reasons I had been so close to my dad. Due to the limited time associated with these friendships, even as an adult, I made lots of friends and dated lots of girls, but once things started to break down or the first time a relationship was tested, I bailed. I just didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with anything outside of the Honeymoon period. So when Jessica and I failed to click on the same intellectual level, I just figured there was no point in asking her out again. She was way smarter than most girls I dated, but to be honest, she kind of intrigued me.

Just as Ashley had described, a part of me was also terrified at the prospect of being a forty-year old out of work actor trying to date much younger women. I didn’t want to leave the profession, but I didn’t know how to deal with the sense of impending failure. It was just easier to give up and move onto something else. Maybe I could manage the Burger Palace for a few years and try acting again later?

Greg leaned in close, and the little smirk on his face burst into a wide grin, “Are you actually thinking something through for once? Maybe you should date Ashley instead. She’s made a real impression on you.”

I blanched, and this only caused Greg’s grin to turn into a wide-mouthed boisterous belly laugh. I said, “I’d rather stick a fork in my eye.”

***

“Hello? Ryan, is that you?” Jessica’s sweet voice rung in my ear. It was just the right combination of alluring and feminine, but with a strength I wasn’t accustomed to. Most of the girls I dated had this breathy whisper that acted as a mating call to all alpha males that the girl lacked confidence and had poor self-esteem. I had mostly dated women who most guys and girls would label sluts. I tended to go for the women who simply enjoyed sex. They revelled in the act, and there were no strings attached. This worked perfectly with the fact that I lacked the capacity for long-term relationships, because other than a handful, I never saw them again. The ones I did see again were my ‘fuck friends’. However, there were some who while being sluts, also had a host of emotional baggage.

I have had girls literally crying, not from joy, but from shame and embarrassment after sex. One girl cried for fifteen straight minutes, blubbering about not being like this before. I didn’t feel particularly bad for her because I didn’t know her. I had no connection to those women other than the bodily fluids we shared. Despite the obvious differences, I was still interested in Jessica. I knew she wasn’t a slut, and I knew she probably wouldn’t sleep with me right away. Maybe I was actually developing some emotional maturity, as Ashley had called it. It also probably had something to do with Greg calling me both sexist and shallow. Perhaps I wanted to prove him wrong, and Jessica was the perfect girl for that.

“Uh. Yeah. Listen, sorry for not calling you before. I’ve just been really busy, and I wanted to make sure I had some time for you.” I was particularly proud of this line. It would no doubt make Jessica feel like she was extremely important.

“Really.” Jessica’s response was surprising. I didn’t notice any positive change in her voice, in fact, her single word was coated with a layer of suspicion.

I replied, “Uh. Yeah, definitely. I meant to call you. Just been busy at the restaurant, and I’ve had this audition I’ve been prepping for too.”

Jessica said, “Look, Ryan- I know you are lying through your teeth. Just be honest. And stop insulting me with your ridiculous excuses- first of all, I was over at Greg’s the other day and he was playing some game on his Xbox. Well I heard your voice coming in over the TV. So you could have called me then. Or were you too busy owning noobs? Secondly, it’s been two weeks since our double date, and you didn’t have a fifteen minute break at the restaurant to call me? Or ten minutes when you got home? Stop with the bullshit excuses and tell me the truth before I hang up on you.”

My eyes widened, and I was thankful we weren’t face-to-face because I would have shown a mixture of humiliation and shock. Apparently, Jessica was immune to my usual lines. A girl with low self-esteem would practically be eating out of my hand after my first line. She would just be glad someone was paying attention to her. Jessica was clearly different. “Sorry. I just meant that I wanted to call you. But I-“

Jessica said brusquely, “I’m hanging up now, Rya-”

I said, “OK, you are, you’re way smarter than me. I guess I was just- I was intimidated by it. It caught me off guard. I expected you to be-”

Jessica interrupted, “An idiot? Because I’m an aspiring fitness model? I studied kinesiology in college, and I’m actually hoping to be more than just a model. I’m going to be starting a Youtube channel where I not only demonstrate the exercises, but talk about the impact on the body. I’ll talk about fitness injuries too. As for your problem, well I can’t help you there. I’m passionate about my career path, and I’m not going to dumb myself down for a guy. Can you handle that?”

I blinked, again thankful Jessica couldn’t see my face, which probably showed surprise, “Wait, what do you mean? You want to go out again?”

Jessica replied gently, “I actually had a good time with you. You’re a nice guy when you aren’t trying to charm me or use one of your insipid lines. You’re funny, and confident- so I’m willing to give you a chance. As long as you don’t tell that joke again. The one about the contortionist and the fitness model in the car.”

There was a measure of amusement in her voice, which made me think Eve was the one who found the joke tasteless, more so than Jessica.

I understood what insipid meant. Despite my lack of higher education, I had a good command over the English language. When I wasn’t watching gangster movies, I devoured true crime novels and anything related to organized crime. This helped my vocabulary growing up, and my acting background made me an articulate speaker. Unfortunately, in many cases, I sounded smarter than I actually was. It is the curse of the actor to sound confident and yet know nothing. After all, actors who played doctors might know the terminology and even how the procedures are done, but they lacked the years of schooling that goes with the profession.

As for me, when faced with something I had no knowledge of or something that was too complex, I often grew frustrated. This is exactly what happened when Jessica started talking about musculoskeletal conditions and neuro-something. If I really wanted to prove Greg wrong, then I absolutely had to try. Jessica was a gorgeous woman, but I could be seen as shallow for wanting to only date women less intelligent than me.

A smile appeared on my face, “Yeah, I can probably hold off on that.”

Jessica’s voice was honeyed as she spoke, a wonderful feminine tone combined with a firmness that was unfamiliar to me outside of the bedroom. One of the girls I had briefly dated, who later became one of my fuck friends, was Monique, and she was a freak. Normally, I wouldn’t allow a woman to take control during sex, deciding the position or the length of time spent in a position, but Monique was different. She could make my entire body tremble with excitement with what was to come. I allowed her to have her way with me because the sex was incredible, and there was never any foreplay. She was apparently always ready and willing. She often spoke to me in a demanding manner, but I always submitted, knowing it would be worth it.

“Great, I know a place. I’m shooting my new show doing 12 hour days until Thursday. But I’m free then. I’ll text you the address.” Jessica’s tone was firm with a hint of a potential controlling nature, but I didn’t expect to be doing the same things with her that I did with Monique. Jessica was choosing the restaurant, whereas Monique chose the position, usually girl-on-top.

I grinned, “OK, I’ll see you then.” I hung up after a quick goodbye. It sounded like Jessica wanted to talk more, but I wanted to limit our conversation. I was still concerned that she would be trying to talk about things way over my head, and I thought about actually doing some research on human kinetics, but another call interrupted my train of thought.

“Hello?” I didn’t recognize the number.

“Yes, is this Mr. Sullivan?” The voice on the other end sounded familiar.

“Yes. Uh. Are you Ms. Daniels?”

“Yes, Mr. Sullivan. I have some good news for you. I spoke to the other casting agents. We watched your audition tape with Ashley, and we think you would be perfect in the role of Mr. Grant, the music store owner. Even though we couldn’t get the actress who plays Madison, you did a wonderful job with Ashley. The two of you have impressive chemistry.” Ms. Daniels had no idea that nearly all the tension in the room, from Ashley’s icy glare and clenched jaw, was all coming from a very legitimate source. We hated each other.

Ms. Daniels continued, “It is a shame, however, that Ms. Perkins will no longer be on the program.” Now not only did I have the part, but Ashley wouldn’t be there to stab me with an assortment of butcher knives, which is how I assumed our relationship would end. In my mind, trumpets from heaven blared played by bikini-clad angels, and the little knot in my stomach that had formed since meeting Ashley (and had never untied itself), immediately unravelled.

I followed up my Emmy award-winning performance from my audition with the following line, “That’s too bad. We really did work well together. I guess you need me to read lines with the possible replacements?”

Ms. Daniels answered evenly, “We are phasing out all of the adult actors on the show, except for your part Mr. Sullivan.”

I raised a brow, confused yet still content that I had won the part, “Can I ask why?”

Ms. Daniels replied, “Studies have shown that children are more likely to pay attention to the voices of other children, or a very discernible voice, like Hermie’s. Since most children tend to tune out their parents at times, this is the concern with children’s programming. We need them paying attention to the important lessons the show aims to teach them. From what we have seen, however, we believe you will have a real rapport with the child actors on the show. And with your extensive experience working with amateur child actors, you should have no problem interacting with seasoned, professional ones.”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah. Sure. So when do we start rehearsals?”

Ms. Daniels replied happily, “In the next few days. There is something we must absolutely ask you to do though before you can have any contact with the children. As you know, there is a new strand of the SARS virus, and while it seems to be completely harmless to adults, those with compromised immune systems, children and the elderly are very vulnerable. Under the California Child Protection Act, if you are going to be working with children for any length of time, you must be vaccinated against this strain so there is no chance you transmit the illness. Adults are immune to the effects, but they can still carry the virus itself. Do you understand, Mr. Sullivan?”

I had no idea what SARS was. Was it like the pig flu illness from a few years ago? Everything that Ms. Daniels was saying sounded like legitimate concerns, and while I was still having second thoughts about the show, my ego took centre stage. I was going to be the only adult actor on the show. I only wished I could see Ashley’s face when they told her she was off the show, and when she would see me on television for the first time.

I replied, “Yeah, no problem. I’m willing to get the shot. Wouldn’t want the kiddies getting sick.”

Ms. Daniels voice was sweet as she spoke, “I will text you the details about the clinic that will provide the vaccination. I am so happy that you will be working with our company, Mr. Sullivan. We think it will be a very rewarding and educational experience for all parties involved.”

I thanked Ms. Daniels and hung up the phone. The text with the clinic details came a minute later. I was practically giddy, having managed to land the coveted role and even happier that I wouldn’t have to work with Ashley. I knew it was a far cry from the three-piece suits, gaudy jewellery and hardware I wanted to wear, but for the meantime, I could adopt the clothes and personality of Mr. Grant. I still had a nagging feeling that no one would take the soft-spoken yet firm Mr. Grant as a Mafioso, but I hoped I could continue to make contacts while on set.

The fact is, I could have all the talent in the world, but Hollywood is about who you know. I could have turned down the role and languished at the Burger Palace, maybe even moving in with Greg at some point, but to me, even coming here was a gamble. I needed to roll the dice again. Maybe the show’s producer knew Al Pacino or Ray Liotta, or the key grip was the brother of the sister of Martin Scorsese’s cousin. And to be honest, I had little choice, the rent was going up in my place, which likely had something to do with the high-priced condos going up across the street, and I would have to get a second job, on top of the Burger Palace, which would make it even harder to pursue acting.

I figured too, once people got to know me, and how different I was from Mr. Grant, that they would see what a fantastic actor I was. This was going to be my big break.

***

“I really think you are making a mistake with this, Ryan. You’ll be typecast.” It was Tuesday, and I was on my way to the clinic to receive the SARS vaccination and Greg, as always, was trying to talk me out of it.

I replied, “I would be really stupid not to take the part. And, I can’t afford to be picky.”

Greg said, “I told you that you could live with me.”

I shook my head, “Come on, man- you and Eve, you’ll be living together in a couple months. It’s probably the only way you two will see each other on a regular basis. And you two are ready for it.”

Greg responded with clear scepticism, “Oh yeah? What would you know about being ready for something like that? You’ve never even lived with a girl before.”

I frowned, “I’ve just got a feeling OK? You two are really good together. I can’t explain it more than that.”

Greg said, “And I’ve never heard about this vaccination you are supposed to be getting either.”

I laughed, “OK, so I’m sure what is going to happen is I’ll get the vaccination, and I’ll wake up in an alley without a kidney. Come on, man. Stop being so paranoid. I looked it up, and SARS is definitely a thing. So they want to protect the kids. That’s not a big deal. I’m sure that teachers and anyone else working with kids for lots of hours has to get the same shot. Doesn’t Eve have to get her flu shot every year? It’s the same thing.”

Greg sighed, “Yeah, anyone who works in a hospital.”

I asked, “What the hell is with you? Why don’t you want me to take this part? You going to miss our kitchen convos or something? Or are you jealous that I’m the only one that is actually getting somewhere, and you don’t have the balls to actually branch out like I have.”

I added, “I think you want to get out of the business. You haven’t had an audition in three months, and you aren’t actively looking. I think you are considering giving up and trying for that assistant manager position at the Palace.”

Greg’s voice had a bitterness to it. He was clearly jealous. “Says the guy who told me he was going to quit before he got an audition just handed to him. It’s real easy to say that now. You were thinking the same thing, and I know you and Vince talked about it.”

I said with a smirk lining my lips, “Yeah, you are definitely jealous. Just admit it. You are pissed off because you’ve got your big fancy acting degree from Northwestern, a couple credits in a few low-budget movies and nothing to show for it but a job as a line cook. I know that you think you are a better actor than me. That you deserve the opportunity more than me, but you don’t.”

Greg’s voice took on a steely quality, “You are spewing so much bullshit, your breath is starting to smell like it. You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe Jessica agreed to go out with you again. Do you know why I keep telling you that you are going to be typecast? Well while I was earning that fancy degree, we had seminars with accomplished actors, and the number one rule is to have your sights set on what you want. Well if you want to do gritty crime dramas then does it really make sense to do a kid’s show for a few years just to pay the bills? The experts say no. You should be trying to do whatever you can to get noticed for those shows, even if it’s just getting coffee as an assistant, working on set. You know that Harrison Ford was discovered by George Lucas while he was working as a carpenter on set? He was in the right place because he wanted to be in the kind of movies Lucas was making. You say you want to be in gangster movies. Well start with TV. See if you can get small parts or just work on the set of a show. You’re like a country singer who thinks they can become famous by joining a metal band. It makes no sense, and it’ll hurt your career.”

I hung up on Greg. We fought rarely, which is probably why we had stayed friends for over a year. We met on the set of a toothpaste commercial where neither of us were successful. I told him about my problems (which at the time involved just recently losing my car and being between jobs), and he steered me toward the Burger Palace. I desperately wanted Greg to drop it because I did consider him a good friend. Despite my outgoing personality, I didn’t have many real friends. It didn’t help that just to make my rent, I was working six and sometimes seven days a week. In that time, I was allowed to go to auditions- Vince was fantastic in that regard, but I had to make up the time elsewhere, which meant working twelve hour shifts sometimes. It didn’t leave a lot of room for girlfriends or a large circle of friends.

Still, if Greg persisted and he couldn’t squash his jealousy, I would bail on him, like I had to others so many times in the past.

***

I walked into a non-descript clinic and approached the receptionist. It was similar to any other clinic I had visited in the past. Large computer monitors were hung on opposite sides of the room, relaying information about different vaccines that were available. One of the information blurbs discussed the myths about the flu shot, and how it was a misnomer that you could actually contract the flu from the vaccine. The middle-aged receptionist was heavy set, but that was really a slightly nicer term for fat. I expected that sitting in a chair all day didn’t help things, but neither did the extra-large cola sitting on her desk.

She was probably as far from perfect as a woman her age could be. She wore ‘scrubs’ which consisted of a multi-coloured blouse that did nothing to hide the patches of blubbery skin that masqueraded as her bicep muscles. The fat hung down in deep pockets around her elbow, which was almost non-existent. While I couldn’t see her entire frame, her belly pushed up against the desk. Her face, which could have been the saving grace was unfortunately her largest flaw. Her nose was bulbous, and her eyes looked tiny, set against swollen cheeks and multiple chins. This woman actually harmed my sensibilities she was so hideous.

“Oh my god, just kill yourself.” Had I been cruel, those would have been the first words out of my mouth, but instead, I said, “Uh. Hi. I’m here for a vaccine?”

She didn’t so much as speak as robotically drone, “Name.”

I replied, “Ryan Sullivan. I have an appointment for a SARS vaccine?” I focused on the woman’s eyes, trying my best not to make a face as imperfection incarnate sat before me. As I handed the receptionist my health card, I noticed a security camera on the far wall slowly shifting its focus toward me.

The receptionist replied, “Another one? Room three.” She guided me to the room and set my chart in the plastic container on the door.

I entered room three, and it, like the rest of the clinic, was nondescript. There were pamphlets for allergy shots, dryness of the mouth and teenage pregnancy. Next to the sink were tongue depressors, a large glass container of cotton balls and hand sanitizer. I sat down on the examining table and a few minutes later, the doctor entered.

“Mr. Sullivan, I am Dr. Travers.” If the receptionist was slightly robotic in her intonation, then the doctor was barely human. He spoke without a hint of emotion, but I had known other doctors who lacked any semblance of bedside manner. As a ten year old, I saw one doctor when we lived on a base near Florida who I was convinced had steel instead of blood in his veins. I had fallen out of a tree that I wasn’t supposed to be climbing. He diagnosed the fracture in my foot correctly, but he did so with so little emotion, I really thought he was a robot or at least a cyborg. This doctor reminded me of him.

Dr. Travers asked, “Are you frightened of needles, Mr. Sullivan?” Again, there was no emotion to his voice. He might as well have been a computer asking the question.

I narrowed my eyes and my masculine identity asserted itself fiercely. It was that one-upmanship that Greg was talking about, but here, I was competing with every other person the doctor had asked previously. “Do I look like a pussy to you? Of course not.” I turned my left arm over and exposed my forearm for the doctor.

As the doctor approached me with the needle, I could see that he was Caucasian and middle-aged with strands of silver lining his thinning brown hair. The silver in his hair was haphazard. It reminded me of a Christmas tree decorated by children, the tinsel just randomly placed with no rhyme or reason. He was greyer on the left, while small patches dotted the right. Where some men would choose where to show the grey to give them a distinguished look, he seemingly chose to do nothing. If I had a similar head of hair, I would have definitely coloured it in places.

He was an unimpressive specimen, likely standing only a few inches over five feet. A pair of thick glasses sat on his nose, but they were ill-fitting as the spectacles actually sat an inch off his nose. Despite his robotic tone and manner, I got an absent-minded professor vibe from him, but only in the way he dressed. His white coat, the typical uniform for a doctor, was wrinkled, and his pants were too short.

The doctor did not respond to my proclamation. He simply brought the needle near and quickly pierced the skin. His face was expressionless, but he was staring into mine, as if searching for a reaction. He pushed the syringe pump forward, as my eyes took turns darting toward the fluid entering my body and the doctor’s impassive expression. The fluid was clear, and it looked like every other vaccine I had ever received. I had to admit that the fingers on my right hand started to shake gently as the pump reached the halfway point.

Dr. Travers asked, while sounding much an automated operator, “Am I hurting you, Mr. Sullivan?”

I shook my head, “No, but do you have to stare at me like that? It’s creeping me out, man.” The needle actually did hurt a little.

Dr. Travers nodded slowly. “The needle is quite long. I was looking for signs that you were in distress. But I saw none. I apologize.” His eyes left my face and focused on the needle, but nothing changed in his facial expression. His eyes blinked at regular intervals, but nothing else moved.

I smirked, “So did you fail bedside manner in med school or something? I think maybe you should have taken the class again.” I was hoping to add some levity to what was becoming a very awkward situation. A part of me seriously thought that Dr. Travers was a robot, and I was some guinea pig in an experiment to see if robot doctors were a viable means to provide medical care. I meant to keep it to myself, but I blurted out.

“OK, so the experiment is a failure. Robot doctors are creepy. They should only work on other robots, but only the ones without an emotion chip installed.”

Dr. Travers didn’t look at me. He watched as the last of the fluid was pumped into my arm. He cleaned the punctured area, placed a bandage over it and said, “The vaccination is complete Mr. Sullivan. You may experience some soreness in your arm over the next few days. If you have any questions or concerns, or you experience any pain, don’t hesitate to call for an appointment.” I left the room quickly.

I walked up to the receptionist and said, “I’m pretty sure the doctor that did my vaccination is a robot. That camera over there, it’s for my reaction when they show the circuits, right?”

The receptionist ushered me forward, while the other patients looked at me sternly. She said with actual emotion in her voice, “That’s very disrespectful, Mr. Sullivan. I’m not sure exactly, but I believe that Dr. Travers has a form of autism. He’s actually an excellent doctor. Not only that, but he actually works in a number of community clinics for free. He’s also worked with the homeless and prison populations- all of it pro bono. I think you owe him an apology, Mr. Sullivan. I really don’t think he can help how he is.”

A look of horror crossed my face as my eyes raised in my skull and my mouth hung open, “Oh. Shit. Really?” The receptionist nodded. Instead of trying to apologize, I backed up and flung open the front door, quickly escaping any further humiliation.

I felt legitimately bad that I had poked fun at the doctor, but the guilt was short lived. After all, I didn’t know about the man’s condition, and while I had been initially embarrassed, it was hilarious to see the expression on the faces of the other patients. I pictured them with ridiculous monocles, all falling off at the same time as they voiced their displeasure at my behaviour. They all had English accents too. Despite being in my early twenties, I apparently still had traces of class clown within me.

My pocket buzzed, and I quickly unlocked my phone. I will admit that I fell within the population of sheep who absolutely required the newest, shiniest and fastest phones on the market. Despite the fact that I was broke most of the time, something about the beautiful, sleek contours of my smart phone made it all worthwhile. I still pulled it out of my pocket with a sense of wonder and pride. I paid for it with a credit card where I could only afford to pay the interest. The phone replaced my car, a ’96 Ford Mustang- that had died a terrible death- engine failure. I could fix just about anything other than that. My dad hated to do it, but whenever one of our cars had engine problems, he brought it to the mechanic.

Because of this, I never learned the skills required to fix a car’s engine, so when my engine light came on, I knew that the car was on its last legs. Like a cowboy lost in the desert, who had ridden his horse to death, I left the car to rot. The maggots festering about the car became homeless people who used the car as both a urinal and the trunk as storage. Acting like descending vultures, the denizens of my neighbourhood stripped the car clean, removing the hubcaps, chrome and eventually the tires, which were nearly bald anyway.

My dad bought the car from an auction or something. It had been in an accident, and the insurance company deemed the car a complete write-off. I watched the tow truck deposit the wrecked Mustang GT into our driveway. My seven year old self looked at the devastated car. Between the missing fender, cracked body, and broken windshield, I figured it had been in a demolition derby. Amazingly, over the next five years, my dad, and eventually me, resurrected the car. I mostly tightened nuts, held the flashlight or handed my dad tools. By the end of it, I knew everything about fixing cars, except for engines.

He told me, “Ryan, you don’t treat your own head wounds, and you never mess around with an engine.”

He never really explained why, so I just figured it was normal. When I left home, I drove the car down to California, bringing it and my dad’s old army jacket and his overseas service badge. While not the classic ’64 or ‘67’ Mustangs, the 1998 Mustang GT was still an incredible car. Car designs were leaving the boxy as fuck 80s and returning to a curvy, attractive sloped style. The changeover was the equivalent to a stripper with giant tits and a tight ass versus some kid in a training bra and an ass like a piece of cardboard. Who the hell would want to look at that? Perverts.

The hood’s sloped design gave the car a racing feel as did the two black stripes that ran parallel to the engine bay and the spoiler. The look of the car was perfect, but it drove even better, with silky smooth gear shifting and enough torque to cause the many girls who entered it to scream in fear and excitement. My dad let me drive the car as a teenager, but I had enough respect for the thing not to use it for my joy riding. Besides, my mom’s car was perfect for that.

After all the work we had put into it, I felt like I had failed my dad by letting the car get trashed, but I just couldn’t afford a new engine. When I saw the tow truck take away the remains, it was one of the only times I remember being really sad, other than when my dad was killed.

Two uniformed officers came to the door, and I just knew. I took off and didn’t return for nearly three days.

The phone didn’t replace the car, but it was a shiny toy that lessened the pain.

The text said, “tonite?” I grinned widely, all thoughts of my father, my behaviour in the doctor’s office or my credit card bills immediately forgotten. It was Monique.

***

Greg and I barely spoke during the 6 PM to 2 AM shift. I was still pissed at him for trying to lecture me on my career, but I couldn’t stop the lustful grin that kept forming, so when Greg caught me the fourth or fifth time with the same expression, he confronted me. All I could think about was Monique.

“You know I wouldn’t normally say anything, Ryan. But Eve and Jessica are friends, and you- I know what you are doing tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, “What am I doing, man? Tell me, I just can’t wait for you to tell me. Did you guess a leisurely bubble bath and a snifter of brandy?”

Greg shook his ridiculous looking bald egg-shaped head. “You’re seeing Monique.”

I smirked, “So what? Jessica and me- we aren’t even going out. We are going on one date. You act like I’ve been dating her for years or we’re married or something. And come on, this is Monique. I’ve told you what we do. Do not guilt me on this, or I will seriously kick your ass, man.”

Greg sighed, “How do you think Jessica would feel knowing that you were screwing another woman just days before your date? Picture her with another guy, screwing his brains out.”

I slid against the counter, feigning tiredness. “Fuuccck, Greg, where’s your pussy? You and Eve have a matching pair? Why does it matter? Maybe you and Eve shouldn’t move in together, you’ll like merge seamlessly together one day. I’ll call you Greve.”

Greg frowned, “You know that’s not fair. Eve and Jessica are really good friends. And I like Jessica too- a lot. She’s a really nice girl. I don’t think you deserve her. I would think if you really liked her that you wouldn’t be so quick to run off to Monique.”

I glared at Greg, clenching my fists, “You don’t make that decision.”

Greg said evenly, “Unless I just happen to tell Eve that you are going to be fucking Monique all night. And she tells Jessica.”

I narrowed my eyes and stood in front of Greg, proceeding to push him hard against the grill. A number of pots and pans that had been carelessly stacked on the shelf above came tumbling down, ruining most of the sizzling burgers on the grill. I took a swing and connected with Greg’s chin, causing the young man to crumple. The clattering cookware brought Vince from his office, and while I was a consummate actor, I couldn’t hide the rage I felt. My jaw was clenched, my muscles like thick strands of coiled rope and Greg, fallen with the beginnings of a nasty red welt underneath his eye- it was all the evidence Vince needed to send me home early, without my tips.

An hour later, I was in Monique’s bedroom in the girl-on-top position. The petite French-Canadian was the lead singer of a shitty punk band, but she could have been a mime or a truck driver because all that mattered was what she was doing with her tongue, which involved carving out the insides of my mouth as if she were trying to sculpt them into some fabulous work of art. Yes, it was girl-on-top, but there were times when she liked to pull me up by the hair to her lips, and now was such a time. She would tease me with her full breasts first, dangling them in my face and then practically try and suffocate me with them, before attacking my lips and thrusting her tongue down my throat as if she was searching for what I had for breakfast. The boob job she had was not fantastic, but the scars were hidden by a veritable art attack. Roses, screaming skulls surrounded by pink unicorns, firing laser beams and disintegrating butterflies- it was like she only got tattoos when she was drunk or high. Or both. Her arms and legs, and up and down both breasts- she was covered in them.

She was trim with a slightly fleshy middle, but I put up with it because she was like a jungle cat and porn star. She knew what to do and she had seemingly unending energy. She brushed away the long locks of her dyed red hair as she continued to go up and down on my cock. You know that Lady Gaga song, the one about riding the disco stick? That was Monique.

While this was going on, I was doing my best to avoid looking at Monique’s gorgeous face, her lipstick a sultry red with smoky, dangerous eyes all framed by a visage with a porcelain complexion. I was obviously enjoying the act, but the fact that Monique was hot beyond belief was like that extra spark. It was the defibrillator shot that gets the heart going again. I was turned on banging her, but even more so because she was unbelievably hot. So, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stave off the inevitable the longer I looked at her face.

There were times when she would stop and enjoy my body. She still went up and down, but her ministrations were deliberately slower, allowing her to enjoy the sights of what most felt was an impressive male on display. It really wasn’t a fair fight with Greg. Not only did I know how to fight, but I was far more athletic than him. I worked out whenever I could, using the 24-hour gym a few blocks from my building. It was another way to meet girls who were exactly my type, and in my profession, you had to stay trim and built. Mostly, though it was the girls.

Monique ran her fingernails over my hardened pecs, chiseled by thousands of bench presses, then she proceeded to scratch the area, leaving an angry red mark. The jungle cat had emerged. Even when she was slow, she was near psychotic. Those fingernails traced along my biceps and then dug in, but because of their width and firmness, I barely felt it. I didn’t have the frame of a professional body builder, but it was closer to a Hollywood action star- who wasn’t named Arnold or Stallone. Her hands moved back to my chest where she played with the dusting of light reddish hair. She wrapped her finger around a strand and then proceeded to rip it off. I stifled my yell, and she looked at me with a devilish grin.

The only imperfection, other than my weak chin and darkened tooth, was the very small layer of fat (it was mostly skin) that had settled on my belly which was likely earned from eating too much Burger Palace takeout. It concealed my abs at times, especially if I was bending over. Obviously, though since I was engaging my abs during sex, they were front and centre.

After the hair pulling, I easily lifted Monique off my cock. I repositioned myself inside her and pushed her up against the bedroom door, lifting her completely off the floor. With my height and strength, it was easy to prop her up, especially as she coiled her legs around my waist. We continued this way, until my muscles began to burn from the strain, a full ten minutes before they usually did.

Monique slowly slid down the door as I lost my grip on her, my legs bending as I tried to quickly adapt to the reality that I was seemingly not strong enough to lift her. Eventually, she slipped out of my arms, falling about two feet on what was a plush ass. The shot. Dr. Travers had told me to expect soreness in the arm. It made sense that I would have difficulty supporting Monique, and to be honest, my left arm was sore.

Monique stood up and cast a withering look in my direction, “The fuck- baby, you don’t have trouble with that usually! You getting soft on me?” She lit up a cigarette and took a long hard drag, “Fuck, yes- come on, baby. You’re gonna finish me.” She took my hands, then immediately broke away. She proceeded to place her hand on my forehead, and then quickly stepped away from me, a look of horror crossing her pretty features. “Fuck, baby- you’re goddamn hot. Like burning up. I’ve got a showcase in a few days. I can’t afford to get sick. You better go.”

I shook my head, “Are you serious? I think you were trying to see how far you could stick your tongue down my throat before. I’m pretty sure if you are going to get it, a few more minutes won’t do it. Come on, Monique, we swapped your gum back and forth.”

She pointed to the door, and as I bent down to pull my boxers on, she slapped my ass. “Call me when you feel better, baby. I want to see how long we can do it against the door.”

I dressed quickly, annoyed at Monique’s fear of germs and at the fact that I was still seriously tenting my boxers.

Monique looked at me with a smile as she proceeded to slap my ass again, “You know it’ll be worth it.”

I frowned slightly as I slipped my jeans on, although I had difficulty at first, having to actually rearrange my business to zip them. “I don’t think so. I-I’m probably going to start seeing this girl. You know more long term.”

Monique actually threw her head back, her laughter was cold, biting and drenched with skepticism.

“Sure, baby. Sure you will. Just like with what’s her name from a few months ago? You and me, we always cut and run when it’s no fun anymore.”

As I left Monique’s apartment, I heard her say with amusement, “You’ll be back, baby.”

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Designer Children by OneShot20XX

Chapter 3

My fever broke during the night, but my limbs creaked as I stepped out of bed. I lumbered toward the bathroom, feeling like my legs had been replaced by massive tree trunks. Each step brought discomfort in my joints and a discernible cracking sound like someone popping a sheet of bubble paper. Monique wore me out usually, but with my fever broken, I should have felt better. Every step made my couch/bed more and more inviting.

I reached the shower and let the powerful water stream soothe my aching muscles and joints. I had little choice but to go into work today. I wasn’t sure how the payment for Hermie would work and I needed to make rent, which was due next week. Once I was called into the studio for rehearsal, and signed my contract, I would speak to Ms. Daniels about payment. For now, however, I would have to take all the shifts I could at the Burger Palace just to avoid dipping into my savings. I put my tip money in a special car fund. I hated taking the bus, mostly because it was hardly ever one bus. The traffic is terrible in LA, but public transportation for auditions was worse. I had actually missed auditions due to late buses or had to turn them down when I realized I could never make it on time.

As I stepped up to the mirror to shave, my mind whirled, flitting back and forth from Jessica, to Monique to my career path. I felt that Jessica was my chance to grow as an individual. Many people would look at me and say I was a player, just in it for sex, but a part of me desperately wanted a relationship with a woman that lasted longer than two months. I didn’t know why exactly. I wasn’t bored of my lifestyle, but Monique’s words cut at the very foundation of who I was as a person. How could I hope to succeed in anything if I just kept running away?

That was the reason I called Jessica back and why I took the part of Mr. Grant. Jessica wasn’t exactly what I wanted and neither was the part on Hermie. I was sincerely intimidated by Jessica’s intelligence. It would have been far easier to date a girl more like Monique, but then you didn’t exactly date Monique- you went along for the ride. Most girls like Monique didn’t want anything more than a fling, and if I even suggested it, she would have likely slapped my ass and sent me on my way.

I lathered up, noticing that the razor travelled more smoothly across my face than usual. I leaned in close to the mirror to inspect my face, and oddly, I could see that any overnight beard growth was non-existent. Normally, I shaved every two or three days. By that time, I would have a very slight patchy beard, but this morning, I had the same stubble from a few days ago. Or maybe I shaved yesterday? It was clear that whatever had invaded my system was also muddying my head. The fever may have broken, but it still felt like tiny construction workers were using jackhammers in my skull. My bed was an uncomfortable mass of springs, lumpy mattress and crumbs. The crumbs caused itchiness as I tossed and turned over them, the springs jabbed into my back and the lumpy mattress meant that the couch had really only one sweet spot where I could actually get a decent night’s sleep. Despite all this, it might as well have been a four-poster king-sized bed with a collection of fanning harem girls.

I ignored the bed’s siren call and proceeded to get dressed for my shift. The 10 AM to 6 PM shift was usually a double but because I had some seniority, I could usually convince someone else to take it. With the rent coming due, however, I would take anything I could get. I arrived at work with ten minutes to spare, so I decided to pour myself a cup of coffee.

The Burger Palace had palatable coffee. It wasn’t on the same level as a place that employed baristas, but it wasn’t gas station coffee that would burn a hole in your esophagus either. Coffee was a staple of my diet, especially since I often worked long hours. It was free for employees, and I took advantage of this perk several times a day. I took a big swig and immediately spit it into the dishwashing sink. It tasted horrible. It was like I could taste every individual bean, and those ground beans had merged with hot water to create the bitterest drink of all time. Thinking that the mug was dirty, or had been washed improperly, I quickly poured another cup, but the second swig was even worse. My taste buds rejected the coffee the same way they would have if I had taken a lump of dirt and stuffed it in my mouth. It really tasted like I imagined mud would taste.

“Coffee bad?” The voice belonged to Samantha, a bubbly brunette with an impressive chest, but a little too much ass for my liking. She had a very pretty face, cherubic with a small nose, but her proportions were off entirely, with a heavy pear shape. Her legs were thick, but lacked the muscle tone to give an attractive shape to them. She was fun, but I never saw us together in the bedroom unless we could somehow remove her lower half from the equation.

I nodded, “Yeah, tastes like very bitter mud. Literally!”

Samantha shook her head, “Weird. I had a cup five minutes before you punched in. Tasted fine. And none of the customers have complained. I’ll brew another pot, maybe it was getting stale.”

I shrugged my shoulders and waited patiently. Eventually, the coffee maker dinged and the light turned green. I poured another cup, this time putting sugar and milk into my normally black coffee. I was still physically and mentally exhausted, so I desperately needed the caffeine to act as a jolt to my system. My shift hadn’t even started, and I felt like crawling onto the couch in the break room. The restaurant wasn’t busy, so Samantha also poured herself a cup.

Unfortunately, my third sip of coffee, and despite the addition of the milk and sugar, was no better than the previous two. I quickly spit the coffee into the sink again.

I stuck out my tongue, closed my eyes and wrinkled my nose. The taste lingered in my mouth and on my tongue. “That’s the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted. It really tastes like mud with sugar and milk. Really bitter mud.”

Samantha took an exploratory sip, but her reaction was muted compared to mine, “It’s not Starbucks, but it’s not bad. Are you sick or something? I know everything tastes weird when I’m sick.”

I shrugged, “I guess. I had a fever last night. Anyway, don’t tell Vince, I really need the money.”

Samantha replied with a smile, “Your secret is safe with me.”

I smiled and nodded, but unfortunately, the smile never left her face. I knew that Samantha was into me. Why else was she being so nice? If I was her, I would have convinced the sick person to go home, so I could have their tips. It might have been weaselly, but again, I needed the money. She stood there drinking coffee, just looking at me and smiling. I knew she would never make the move herself. She wasn’t that type of girl, but she didn’t even make an effort to have a conversation, so I broke the awkward moment.

“I guess my shift is starting? See you around?”

It was getting to a point where I would have to tell her I wasn’t interested, but honestly, I loved the fact she wanted me. It may sound terrible, but it fed my ego, knowing that I had no interest in her, and she clearly wanted me to unwrap her like some sort of erotic birthday present, revealing what were likely thick, cottage cheese thighs. Girls with that much heft to their legs, it was never just muscle. I knew that because she didn’t go to the gym.

I was glad that Greg wasn’t coming in until the late shift. Wednesdays were usually quieter, so the restaurant didn’t need as many line cooks. I was less angry with Greg, and in fact, I was more worried that I had seriously damaged our friendship with my violent outburst. The fact that he was only coming in later gave me time to figure out how I could apologize without completely surrendering. I wanted him to stop meddling in my life, but I still desperately wanted to be friends.

The lunch rush came and with it many large patio platters. Fifteen minutes into the rush, my fever returned with a vengeance. It felt like my entire body was on fire. Strangely, I could feel the heat through the pores of my skin, the bottom of my feet, and even my fingertips. Like a nasty flu, it felt like my eyeballs were boiling in my skull, but stranger still, my crotch couldn’t escape the bizarre heat. It was a similar sensation to standing too close to a cook fire, but it never subsided, and the more party platters I carried the worse it got.

There was a certain art to carrying the party platters, which usually had between 3-5 plates of steaming hot food and beverages. First, you had to ensure that the weight was distributed equally. I always put the drinks together to avoid any spillage onto the food, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the weight. Next, I walked steadily, making certain to place my palm in the centre of the tray to balance it. When turning, I always moved slowly, to ensure that no items shifted on the tray. Normally, I had little difficulty hefting trays, sometimes overloading them, intending to compete with the other male servers.

Today was no different with regard to competition, despite my seemingly weakened condition. Luis, one of the bus boys who also acted as a server during the lunch rush, said, “Six.” Luis had placed six piping hot food plates on his tray. The young man was taller than me, but he was skinnier, lacking the heavily defined muscles in my arms and chest.

I smirked, “Seven.” We had done this many times before. The line cook, Anna, merely shook her head at our boyish games, but said nothing. I piled on plates with nachos, sandwich wraps, fish and chips, and of course, the famous burgers with sweet potato sides. I lifted the platter carefully, bringing it onto my right shoulder, and I began the slow journey to the patio. I passed the threshold without issue, stepping onto the patio and navigating through the assembled tables and chairs. At the halfway point, I was forced to divert from my course. A young man with his eyes staring down at his cell, barrelled toward me. I quickly turned myself and side stepped him, managing to right myself. I watched as the plate of nachos slid gently to the side of the tray. The young man offered a faint apology, which was almost unintelligible due to the combination of street traffic, knives and forks scraping across plates, and the lively conversation.

My destination was at the far end of the patio. As I neared it, however, I started to feel a strange burning in my arm. It was similar to the sensation I got when lifting weights, but along with the burn was an unfamiliar weakness. The tray began to dip ever so slightly, forcing me to stop and steady it. Annoyingly, this happened every three feet or so, and each time, I was obligated to stop and steady the tray. With a massive sigh of relief, I set the tray down on the tray table and quickly dispensed the food to the waiting diners.

“I had the nachos.”

“I had the chicken burger and side salad.”

“Sorry, but I had the bacon burger with extra mushrooms.”

I very rarely made mistakes with regard to orders. I quickly corrected the orders, offering an apology while I quickly escaped back to the kitchen.

“Waiter! We’ve been waiting ten minutes. Are we going to get some damn service?”

I stopped abruptly, akin to a soldier mid-march receiving the halt command. I looked around for Samantha, but she was handling a drink order a few tables over. It was her side, but we were experiencing an unusually busy Wednesday lunch rush.

I said, “I won’t be your server, but I can take your order.”

I removed my notepad and pen from the apron I wore and prepared to take the order. There was a young couple at the table, and from the looks of them, they had serious money. The couple, likely in their early twenties, were apparently slumming it outside of Beverly Hills. The young woman wore a necklace that dangled with diamonds, and the young man had a gold watch that screamed excess. The face was surrounded by a circle of diamonds, which shimmered in the noon hour sun. The young man had learned that he could use the glittering object to temporarily blind patrons, and unfortunately hapless servers.

I squinted my eyes as the man obnoxiously targeted me with his watch. I was having difficulty following the young woman’s order, which was needlessly complicated.

“I’m on a low-fat, no-carb diet. Can you guarantee that the bacon burger has none of those things if you remove the bun, half of the patty, the caramelized onions and mushrooms and serve it on a two slices of lettuce? It can’t be iceberg lettuce though.” The more complex the order became the more it felt like my head was trying to slow-cook my brain. My eyes tumbled back, and I slowly shook my head.

“Uh. I’m sorry. I can’t guarantee that. The nutritional information is listed on the menu though.” I was gradually losing my patience with these nascent children masquerading as young adults.

She replied, “I didn’t read it.”

I turned to the young man, feeling my nostrils flare as I did, “Hey, would you mind keeping your shitty watch out of my eyes? I’m trying to do my job here.”

I was more direct with him than usual. Normally, I could just put on a pleasant face and absorb the abuse. Vince would have agreed with the request I made, but not the way I delivered it.

The young man said, “I was just checking the time, man. See it’s 12:15 PM.”

He flashed the object in my eyes again, and as he did, I wanted to take the watch and force it down his throat. My revenge would not be so simple however. I would force it down the hole I had made in his throat with the fork I planned to stab him with. I imagined that the fork wouldn’t be a very clean cut either.

I sighed, returning to the young woman, while trying my best to maintain my server smile and remove the violent imagery from mind. “Sorry, could you repeat what you were saying about the burger?” I had forgotten everything she told me.

In response, the young woman haughtily flipped her hair and said, “You- you’re awful. I’m not repeating that. Just get me what I asked for before I call for the manager.”

The young man, who had tired of the watch game and was likely legitimately hungry, said, “She basically wants the bacon burger without the bacon. And instead of the bun, serve it on lettuce. Got it? I-want-the-jalapeno-Monterey-Jack smoked-bacon-burger. Fries for me and side salad for her. That slow enough for you?”

I smiled, the expression plastered on my face like a mannequin in a department store, “Good choice. It won’t be long.”

When I returned to the kitchen, Luis was waiting for me. He said, “Seven,” and then exited toward the patio. I was about to remind him I had already done seven, but it didn’t matter. I’d pass him with eight and make his feat moot. I piled eight plates on a single tray and slowly lifted it onto my shoulder. As soon as I did, I felt the return of the burning sensation in my muscles. Still, I soldiered on, reaching the threshold and stepping out onto the patio. Unfortunately, the wind had picked up since my last order, and while this normally wouldn’t have been a problem, I had overloaded my tray to the point where a seemingly harmless gust of air could cause disaster.

Due to the wind, I was forced to stop repeatedly and steady the tray. Internally, it felt like my body was on fire, my bones and muscles mere ingredients within a torrid soup. My machismo, however, did not allow for caution. I had gone to the gym feeling fluish before, but I could certainly carry a few trays and take some orders.

As I reached the halfway point, I noticed a familiar shimmering object and a second later, I was blinded. The golden watch, probably worth a few month’s rent, was the culprit, but I managed to wade my way through the obstacles. Unfortunately, as I was paying far more attention to my path, I failed to notice that the tray, with its contents, was gradually tipping downward, likely helped by the now much stronger winds. I had seen it happen before, but I had never fallen victim to the dreaded tray drop. My arm, now actually pained by the mass of food, silverware and plates, slowly lowered, and I was helpless to stop the descent. Suddenly, I felt the tray steady. A plate of nachos, now halfway over the edge of the tray, was quickly righted. I turned around to see my saviour, and there was Greg, a beaming satisfied smile lining his face.

“Still playing that stupid game with Luis, hmm?”

I smirked and said nothing, quickly reaching the table and proceeded to deposit the food, where again, I got the orders wrong.

After rectifying the orders, I walked back to the kitchen, where Greg was waiting. “You look like shit, man. Go home already.”

Luis said, “Yours didn’t count. You got help. Oh and by the way. Nine.” I raised a brow at the young Latino as he carefully lifted the tray onto his shoulder. I heard the plates clanging together and then stop. There wasn’t room for even one more plate. Had he been working out? No one, not even me, had ever done nine plates before. With the strong gusts affecting the ability to steady the tray, I figured it was a suicide mission.

Greg, who sported a less than attractive purplish bruise underneath his chin, said, “I know what you are thinking. Just go home, Ryan. You can’t win this one. If either of you drop a tray, you are going to put us twenty minutes behind. People are going to be pissed, and so is Vince.”

I was pleased that Greg didn’t seem upset about the previous night. I just figured he knew me by now, and he had pushed me too far when he threatened to tell Jessica about Monique. We didn’t need to have a hug-it-out session for me to know we were OK friendship wise. He had crossed the line, and he knew it. My less than friendly jab to his chin told him his behaviour was inappropriate.

I shook my head, “No, I got this, man. Don’t worry about it. Just do your shit.”

I was competitive, but usually I would never attempt nine plates on a moderately windy day. Still, the weakness I had revealed, plus a renewed sense of bravado, it pushed me to pile nine plates, and then one more. I managed to organize them better than Luis, and the side salad bowl still counted, as per the rules. Despite the brashness I displayed, I still felt like I was battling a terrible flu. Every muscle ached and burned as I lifted the tray onto my shoulder.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned slowly to see that Greg was following me. “Back off, man. I got this.” Greg shook his head and returned to the grill with Anna.

I didn’t, in fact, have it, but something spurred me forward. I hadn’t felt this way since taking my mom’s car when I was fifteen. The sense of empowerment, the thrill of the chase, and the girl-next-door, Hannah, sitting next to me- it was all an incredible rush. I lost my virginity that night, but I had also lost my mother that night too. She never looked at me the same again, her fawning over her little boy ended, and with it an attempt at discipline lacking for the previous fifteen years. I rolled over her repeatedly, actually enjoying seeing her break down, completely unable to control me. I despised her because she only reminded me how much I missed my dad when he went on his tours of duty. During elementary school and junior high, we moved as a family, but as war broke out in Afghanistan and Iraq, my dad was called away more often. My mother tried to push back against my teenage rebellion with rules and punishments, I shoved back, usually in the form of skipping curfew, school or getting drunk or high. Or Hannah.

I stepped onto the patio. My gait was awkward, as I was forced to trudge toward my destination. Every few steps, I would have to halt my progress and right the tray. The wind had picked up, now causing diners to chase after napkins. I knew that my actions were foolish, but I continued with the contest because I desperately needed to put Luis in his place. It reminded me of when my friends from high school would play truth or dare. However, dare was the only choice when playing with teenage boys. We really didn’t want to know anything about each other, except for the guys who had sex. They were like gurus sitting on a mountain in Nepal- they held the answer to the world’s most important secret- how do you get a girl to sleep with you?

I reached the table with the obnoxious power couple, preparing to lower the tray holding their food, but as I did, my right arm simply gave out. Previously, this had only happened to me in the gym, where the same macho head games happened, but with pounds replacing the number of plates. I had been brought into a pissing contest with another gym member, who likely had twenty to thirty pounds on me- all of it muscle. He was a bodybuilding type, and I had foolishly tried to dead lift what he had, thinking that he had been taking it easy (the man had barely broken a sweat). Luckily for me, an attendant spotted what I was doing and ran over to spot me, quickly removing weight from the barbell as the object slowly crushed my chest.

My right arm buckled under the weight of the tray the same way it had under the barbell. It happened far more quickly than I expected with the plates sliding down and then tumbling from the lip of the tray. Fries, nachos, the young woman’s non-bacon bacon burger and the tableware all crashed to the patio stones at my feet. There was no five second rule in the restaurant business- it would all have to be recooked, and we would fall behind on the lunch rush. Luis, who had just finished serving his nine plates, walked by me with a satisfied smirk. It wasn’t that we hated each other. I felt that our competition was mostly healthy, except for the fact that my shoe looked like it was ready for a bun, slathered by ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise from the fallen food.

I felt my cheeks redden, something that was almost alien to me considering I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so humiliated. The young man who had previously tormented me with his watch blinding game shouted, “What the fuck, dude? Did you seriously just drop all that shit? Was that our food?”

I nodded sadly. I felt like every eye on the patio was on me, boring in me, feeding my growing sense of embarrassment, each eye like a log on a soon to be roaring fire. I did not move my head, but as my eyes scanned the diners, I could see some were recording or taking pictures. No doubt a video titled “Waiter FAIL” would soon be posted on YouTube.

The young woman was unfortunately caught in the crossfire as I had dumped an entire plate of nachos on her lap. She stood up and shrieked at me, nachos sliding off her lap in gooey, cheesy clumps, but both her and her boyfriend stopped suddenly. Their expressions, previously enraged, changed to mocking grins. It was at this point, I could feel my bottom lip begin to quiver.

The young woman pointed her finger at me, another mocking gesture, and said, “A-Are you about to cry?”

I felt a wetness in my tear ducts, and I quickly closed my eyes, hoping to squelch the liquid that threatened to tumble from my eyes. The burning in my brain intensified as the stress of the situation worsened. The ache and the sensation of tearing in my muscles had waned, but it still felt like someone had poured five-alarm hot sauce in my brain fluid.

“Oh shit, I think he is! Get your phone, Lily!”

I shut my eyes tightly, but I couldn’t stop one stray and treasonous tear from escaping. When I opened my eyes, I could see that my breakdown was still the star attraction. Lily, the young woman, had positioned her phone to record my emotional outburst, but as I saw their mocking faces, I was seized by rage. I snatched the woman’s phone and threw it as hard as I could into the street. I pictured the device, which was heavy and backed with aluminum, being run over by multiple cars, making any salvage impossible as even the SIM card would undoubtedly be crushed by early afternoon traffic.

What was supposed to be a fastball ended up being an off-target change up, as the phone struck one of the patio umbrellas and skittered to the ground well short of my target. Unfortunately, the metal case surrounding the phone protected it from the impact of the fall. Despite my failure to destroy the phone, Lily’s boyfriend was none too pleased. He firmly gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled me toward him. I didn’t need to duck the punch that came because Greg and Vince pulled us apart.

Still, the laughter and stares pierced at my core, threatening to severely damage my male ego, especially since there was now video evidence that I had cried. Now the video would read “Waiter FAIL- MUST SEE- this dude actually cries!” Before further humiliation could occur, I sprinted toward the threshold and re-entered the restaurant. I stood in the kitchen, in front of a shocked Samantha, until Vince motioned me to enter his office.

***

“I should fire your ass right now, Ryan! What the hell were you thinking playing that ridiculous game with Luis? Luis is just a kid, barely 18. You should know better! That was almost 200$ worth of food you dropped there! And what was with you and Greg last night?”

Vince stared at me with an expression mixed with extreme disappointment and fury. The man, in his late thirties, was balding, but at least he had the sense not to shave his head. He would have looked like an egg, his pale dome shining as a testament to fans of Humpty Dumpty. He was overweight, a combination of his divorce, eating a lot of food from the Burger Palace, and acting as both manager and owner of the restaurant.

I sat across from him in the same rickety chair I sat in when he hired me. It made me think of the principal’s office from one of my elementary schools, especially the way Vince’s nostrils flared as he spoke and how he gripped his desk like he wanted to tear it apart in a ‘hulkish’ rage. His office was tiny. Lining the wall were Vince’s diplomas, the most impressive being the MA in Business Administration. Next to the diploma was a picture that showed Vince playing with his daughter. It was from a few years ago in a happier time.

I said nothing, knowing that Vince needed to vent. “Sometimes I think that you could take on the assistant manager or even manager position. You’ve got great business sense, you are fantastic with the customers (usually), and people generally like you. They wouldn’t mind taking orders from you. And then you pull this bullshit, and I’m left thinking, what the hell is wrong with you?

“You need to grow up, Ryan. I know you think that this part you’ve got is going to pan out and you can drop this place like a bad habit, but let me explain something to you. It’s not that easy. It’s never that easy. You think you’ve made it, and you shoot one episode, it airs and you are cancelled. I’ve been living here long enough to know that you can’t rely on Hollywood. Get that out of your head. So if this was some kind of attempt at a quit video or-”

“It’s not. You’re right, it was just the game Luis and me play. We took it too far today, that’s all.”

I was tired of being lectured. I honestly wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for 48 hours. Despite the fact that I was no longer trying to carry overloaded trays, I could not shake the fact that I was legitimately sick. I could barely remember any orders, and I moved along at a snail’s pace even when carrying normal trays. Not only that, and while a part of me wanted to see if Lily’s boyfriend had a glass jaw, I was terrified to go back to the patio. This mindset frightened me because it was the final curtain call for an actor. It was the equivalent of paralyzing stage fright.

I had to be willing to make a fool of myself and to accept that not everyone would enjoy my performances. I should have been able to shake off the dropped tray and the botched throw the same way I would a flubbed line or relentless hecklers. Either way, I was playing to a crowd, and I was petrified to go back out there.

Vince sighed. He looked older than his years, his face collapsing with the weight, his cheeks forming sudden jowls as he expelled an exasperated breath. “Look, I can’t keep this schedule up anymore. I need to rely on you and Greg a lot more now that Anna is only part-time and isn’t acting as assistant manager, I need one of you to step up.”

I shook my head, “Look Vince, I really appreciate you considering me for this, but you know I’m fine just doing the server thing. I don’t really want the extra stuff that would go with it. It would make it harder to go to auditions. I’d be-”

It was Vince’s turn to interrupt, “You’d be entering into something stable and something with a future. When are you going to stop running from responsibility, Ryan? Are you trying to sabotage your chance for the assistant manager position by acting like a brainless teenager? Before hiring you, I called your previous managers, and they said the same thing. You could be so much more if you’d just ground yourself. Do you know what percentage of people actually make a living as an actor? Do you?”

Now, I was getting angry. “Fuck you, Vince. You’re just pissed that I don’t want your shitty assistant manager job. That I actually want to be something- that you know I’ve still got a dream of being something more. You’ve just settled for what’s easy.” The angrier I became, the more intense the burning in my head and body. My eyes slipped back into my head momentarily as I fought with the terrible flu symptoms.

Vince shook his head, his eyes blazing with fury. I could push his buttons, and he knew it. It took a few moments but he gradually calmed down enough to speak, “You think giving up my dream was what I wanted to do? I’ve just seen the reality of it. I don’t know if Greg told you, but I was in a band before this. Back when I was your age. My girlfriend, who later became my wife, supported me fully until we had our daughter, then the shit money I was making wasn’t enough. And the tours I’d play where I was away for months at a time. We were barely scraping by.”

He continued, “This town will ruin you, Ryan. I’m telling you, you’ve got skills. I was the mouthpiece for the band, I was good with the money. I turned those into part-time schooling and then eventually a loan to buy this place. It’s just not worth it, I mean- do you really want this?”

I retorted angrily, “I sure as hell don’t want what you have, that’s for sure. A divorce, stuck with a kid, running a shitty restaurant.”

Again, my body and mind were on fire. I felt my shoulders slump despite my rage-filled response. Normally, the anger would have filled my body with adrenaline, but it was surprisingly absent. I just wanted to feel my head hit the pillows and sleep off whatever I had.

Vince remained surprisingly calm, “Greg told me that you were thinking of quitting acting last week. He thinks you’d be a great interim assistant manager, and then manager. Have they even told you how much you are going to be making? Is this kids show public broadcasting? You know I heard they don’t make as much because it is public money that supports the show. You know the assistant manager job pays an actual salary, right? It’s not hourly.”

He added, “And you aren’t really following through with what you want. When I interviewed you, you said that you wanted to be in crime movies or TV. I said I had no problem with the auditions, but be realistic. Financially, you are making a living as a server, acting is a part-time thing. It’s a hobby until it can support you. That’s what my wife told me about music, and she was right.”

The burning in my mind intensified, but the bravado from before returned, as a sense of near invulnerability descended on me, “Your ex-wife is a controlling bitch, Vince. I’d never let a woman or anyone tell me that what I do is a hobby. So all the buses I take, the time I put into the auditions, the classes I took, and the roles I take that I don’t really want, those mean nothing? That’s not a goddamn hobby, man. This is my life, and this is what I want to do.” I realized that it was, and the pressure coming from Vince and previously Greg pushed me to recommit to acting. Still, Vince was right, I had wanted to quit last week. I probably would have if the Hermie role hadn’t come up.

Before Vince had a chance to reply, I said firmly, “I quit.” He shook his head sadly but said nothing. He allowed me to leave without saying another word.

***

The consequences of my impulsive behaviour did not dawn on me until I arrived home in the early evening. I had rent due, and I no longer had a full-time job. I knew nothing about the Hermie the Hippo show beyond the educational theory the casting agent discussed, and the fact that I was playing the role of Mr. Grant. I hadn’t seen a contract, and I had no indication of how much I was going to be paid. What if Vince was correct about the public funding? I definitely suffered from cases of foot in mouth disease, especially when considering my somewhat awkward conversation with Jessica, but what I had done was plain stupid, and yet all I wanted to do was crawl onto the couch and sleep. My mind and body were drained to a point where I did not crawl into bed, I fell.

I awoke hours later with the room drenched in darkness. I reached over to check my phone and saw that it was actually 3 AM. I felt surprisingly rested, still not 100% but not at death’s door as I had been. It made sense that my body would rebel when pushed, and the rest had clearly improved my condition. I wanted something to keep my mind from wandering back to the very pressing issue of the rent, so I picked up the Xbox 360 controller and loaded up Halo. A minute later, I was playing a team death match session.

I was an expert player, usually choosing to play a sniper. I picked my spots, but I wasn’t a camper, unless someone pissed me off. I had chosen a server with a high number of equally ranked players, so the game was intense. It was exactly what I needed to forget my current problems. In the morning, I would call Ms. Daniels and get all the details I needed to understand just what I would be paid for my work on the Hermie the Hippo show, but for now, I would rack up headshots with my scope.

Three minutes into the session, I noticed that something was wrong. I couldn’t, for the life of me, line up even one kill with the scope. By this point in a match, I usually had the most kills, but I hadn’t managed a single one! I would locate the perfect spot, usually a perch in a tower or a cliff, line up the shot, but as they entered range, I couldn’t get my thumbs to cooperate on the analog joystick. My shots were wildly off target each time. I recalibrated the controller, even considering turning on auto aim assist, even thought that was a bannable offence on the server I was playing.

NoobKillaz567 squawked in my headset, “What the fuck, man? We are getting murdered. You are sucking tonight. You drunk? Or high? You usually play better high!”

I said, “I’m fighting a flu or something. And you aren’t doing much better!”

SnipezYA_1234 said, “Get high, man. We need you.”

NoobKillaz567 said, “I’ve got some sweet milkweed at my place. It’s street, but it’s legit. Amazing shit.”

I located my cache underneath the bed and pulled out the joint I had rolled a few days ago. I lit it up, took a deep toke, but immediately started coughing. I took another and again, I had a coughing fit. I couldn’t seem to figure out how to take in the normally deep tokes, so I was forced to take tiny puffs like a first-timer.

Normally, the hallucinogenic effects helped my play because the targets in my scope would slow down, allowing me to pick them off more easily. As I smoked more and more, I began to feel anxious and almost paranoid, similar to the feeling I had when everyone was staring at me on the patio. Eventually, I stopped because I started feeling sick to my stomach. I quit the game soon after, ending without a single kill. However, even after the game ended, I still felt nauseous and very strange. The relaxed feeling I normally had was non-existent, especially with the way my hands were dancing before my eyes. This did not help my nausea, and seconds later, I was sprinting to the washroom, my hands cradling the bowl as I expelled my dinner. Maybe smoking with the flu was a really poor idea? Apparently.

I crawled back into bed and closed my eyes with a sigh. I realized that I was supposed to be meeting Jessica for dinner tonight, and I was barely mobile. I figured the best thing to do was to sleep, hoping that I would be in better shape in the morning.

***

I woke to the obnoxious, shrill dinging of my apartment buzzer. I was pleased that I felt marginally better, even though my throat was now killing me. I would suck on some cough drops and hopefully it would improve. The aching had also left my muscles, and the burning in my body and brain less intense. It felt like a moderate fever at best. To me, there was no reason to cancel on Jessica. I figured that I wouldn’t be making out with her, as I expected her to be very different from girls like Monique who I banged the first time out.

I threw on a pair of jeans and a discarded t-shirt and went toward the door. Looking through the peep hole, I could see a very concerned looking Eve, flanked by an equally concerned Greg. I sighed, figuring that Greg was here to talk me into coming back to the Burger Palace.

I said through the door, “Go away, guys. You…aren’t going to convince me to come back.”

My voice cracked noticeably midway through my words, although squeaked would be more accurate. My throat wasn’t actually sore, as I originally thought, it just felt extremely, constricted. Every word I spoke felt like I was trying to push the air needed to form the words through a Cheerio. I put my hand over it, trying to feel if my glands were swollen and noticed my Adam’s apple had receded slightly. What the hell kind of flu was this?

Eve’s voice penetrated the door, “We are worried about you, you ass. Greg said you looked like crap at work yesterday. And I know you won’t go to the doctor without some prodding.”

Eve’s sweet voice was accented, but the allure was lessened by the gruff manner in which she spoke. I expected that she was a no nonsense intake nurse. The way she put emphasis on the word ‘prodding’ made me nervous.

Greg said, “Just let us in so Eve can take a look at you, man.”

Despite my nervousness, I was not frightened of doctors or nurses, I just rarely went. I didn’t have health insurance, and honestly, I didn’t understand the whole Medi-care or Obama Care thing. A bunch of stuff came in the mail from California, but I never bothered reading it. All I knew was that if I was going to choose between eating or having a place to live, I could live with a cold or flu. Still, as I put my fingers over my Adam’s apple, or what might have passed for one in a prepubescent boy, my initial concern at being poked and prodded by Eve eroded my nervousness like a massive mudslide washing away an entire village in seconds.

I unlocked the door and let them in. Despite my condition, my eyes still lingered on Eve. I couldn’t help it. Even if she was Greg’s girlfriend, she was still a very pretty girl. I felt that her face was her worst characteristic, with a wide nose and eyes that were too close together, and was the reason I had left her to Greg when I first saw her in a club a year ago. Also, she seemed completely unwilling to get rid of the extra ten pounds that kept her from being a perfect 10, at least with regard to her body. No matter what she wore, and she opted for tight t-shirts and blouses, she always had a little muffin top peeking out. Still, for Greg, the light caramel skin, long, intricately braided raven locks and tight, pert ass, was more than enough. I was unable to look past the initial flaws I saw in her.

Eve had me sit down on the edge of my bed as she examined me. She felt my forehead first, took my temperature and then felt along the glands underneath my jaw. Her brow raised as she touched my throat.

“Ryan, you’ve got a low-grade fever. But, um, I’m not sure how to say it, exactly. You don’t have an Adam’s apple or it’s really hard to find. And you should really look at yourself in the mirror. I’m not sure if you have.”

I shrugged my shoulders, walked into the bathroom and closed the door. My eyes widened as I viewed my face. I didn’t even have an outline of stubble. The hair follicles that used to grow a bushy beard after a week had simply disappeared, leaving smooth impossibly soft skin. I lifted my t-shirt, which was unusually baggy. I thought at first it was a different one entirely, but it was actually a workout shirt, one that formerly showed off my sculpted pecs and where my arms threatened to burst the elastic confines of the sleeves. I chose it because it was probably a size too small, but it revealed my impressive physique. I had planned to wear it on my date with Jessica underneath a suit jacket. The place she picked was fancy.

At this point, however, I was certain I would not be seeing Jessica. Reflected in the mirror was the body of a young man who would have difficulty passing as a sophomore. My pecs had been reduced to two solid yet almost concave lumps. Below, I was so skinny that my ribs featured prominently. I was still muscled, but I looked like the high school wrestling champion for the feather weight division. I lifted my arm, amazed at the diminished muscle mass. Where my biceps could previously have been described as small hills jutting from the surface of my arm, they were now as flat as plains.

“Hey, Ryan, are you OK in there?” It was Greg.

I viewed my hairless armpit, and I knew that something terrible was happening to me. It must have been the vaccine. My hands fumbled for my phone and Dr. Travers’ card, which I pulled quickly from my wallet.

I replied, my voice cracking again, “Uh. Yeah. I’m just- I’m calling the doctor.” I could hear Eve and Greg talking, but with the door closed, I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The phone rang three times and with each ring, I grew more and more scared of my predicament. Was I going to die? My mind flew straight to my mother, and then to Hannah, but stayed firmly on the former. On the forms I filled out for the Hermie show, I left living family blank. In my mind, my relationship with my mother was so fractured that she might as well have been dead. Would I ever see her again?

I sighed as the phone rang a fifth time. Finally, on the sixth ring, I heard a voice.

It was the same almost inhuman voice I heard in the clinic room number three. “Mr. Sullivan. Hello.”

I smiled in relief and said quickly, “Doctor, you’ve got to help me. I think the vaccine is doing something to me. I-I’m freaking out here. It’s like my muscles are practically gone. I’m losing all the hair on my body. Am I dying??! Fuck, man- tell me!”

There was a pause on the other end, a cleared throat and then the robotic drone, “Mr. Sullivan, first of all, take deep breaths. I can assure you that you are not dying. You are unfortunately suffering a very rare reaction to the SARS vaccine you received a few days ago. Remove all fear from your mind and know that the side effects can be reversed.”

Tears threatened to erupt, not simply leak from my eyes. “Oh really? Thank god! I really thought I was dying or I had some-”

The doctor interrupted me, “A wasting disease. Unfortunately, the vaccine diminishes muscle mass in some. Only one out of a million are affected.”

I laughed bitterly, “Maybe I should go out and buy a goddamn lottery ticket. Uh, so everything can be reversed, my muscles? I’m going to grow the hair back on my arms and chest?”

He replied, “You will. You will need to have another shot, but it will counteract the effects of the vaccine you received. For your own safety, I will send an ambulance. I’m sure you were also lethargic, aching and suffering from a high fever. I’m concerned you might faint on the bus if those symptoms return.”

I said, “I…can’t afford an ambulance. Will my voice go back to normal too?” Squeak. Squeak.

Dr. Travers replied, “Absolutely. Your vocal chords are simply constricted because a muscle attached to your larynx has shrunk. And I will pay for the ambulance, Mr. Sullivan. It is the least I can do after how much you have suffered. I can also help you if you require a medical leave of absence.”

I said, “Uh thanks. I’m sorry, for you know, calling you a robot and everything.

The doctor replied with the same complete lack of emotion, “Not to worry, Mr. Sullivan. Apology accepted. You were not the first, and you will not be the last. I will see you soon.”

I hung up the phone, redressed and left the bathroom. Greg and Eve looked at me worriedly. I explained to them what Doctor Travers told me, but there was only some relief on Greg’s face and general suspicion planted on Eve’s. By this point, I had calmed down significantly, assured by the fact that what had happened to me was reversible.

Eve said, “If this doctor knew that there was a chance of extreme side effects why didn't he monitor everyone who got it? If you’d gotten to the hospital sooner, then maybe you wouldn’t have seen so many symptoms surface?”

I shrugged my now slimmer shoulders, “Well the chances were really low. And everyone gets the shot who has to work with kids in California. I’m sure that you’ve given it before.”

Eve nodded, “I have. But I’ve never seen those symptoms before. I didn’t even know it was possible. It’s such a standard vaccine. The hospital I work at gives thousands of them every year.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Why are you so concerned anyway? I thought you didn’t even like me.” Greg gave me the no-no gesture, but I ignored him.

Eve replied evenly, “I like you when you aren’t being a sexist asshole, and when you aren’t trying to date one of my friends. But really, I’ve got a responsibility. Greg said you were sick, I know you won’t go to the doctor.”

Greg added, “Also because we are your friends.” Eve snorted through her less than perfect nose.

Greg continued, “We’ll go with you in the ambulance to the clinic.”

I shook my head, “Uh, no it’s OK. Really I don’t need you guys to come with me. How’s Vince? Is he heartbroken?”

Greg said, “Yeah, he’s crying his eyes out like you were his first crush. Why’d you quit anyway?”

I replied brusquely, “It’s none of your damn business.”

Eve said sternly, “Look, he doesn’t want our help. We’ll walk Mr. Big Tough Man to the ambulance, but we won’t go with him.”

Greg said, “We’ll meet you at the hospital. Which one are they taking you to?”

I shook my head, “Seriously, guys- I don’t need a babysitter at the hospital. They’ll probably take me right away knowing what’s happened. Dr. Travers is going to meet me there. I don’t know which hospital. I’ll text you later to let you know how I’m doing.”

Eve glanced out the window, “Ambulance is here. Wow, that was fast. Were they waiting around the corner or something?”

I gathered up everything I would need for a potentially extended stay at the hospital, extra clothes, DVDs, phone charger, and most importantly, my dad’s overseas service badge. I would need all the luck it would bring more than ever.

Eve started moving toward the door, but Greg lingered. I could see he was holding something in his hands. He looked like he could have auditioned for the part of Vince, especially the way he looked at me with such serious eyes. “If you do decide to come back.” He tossed me the key to the restaurant, which I had left on Vince’s desk yesterday.

I reached out to snatch the key from the air, but as I tried to close my hands around it, it flew past, landed on the parquet flooring and skittered underneath the couch.

Greg said, “Get better, man.”

After a quick goodbye, I stepped into the back of the ambulance where the paramedics insisted that I lie down on the stretcher bed.

One of them said, “I’m not sure if Dr. Travers told you or not, but he said you might have trouble breathing. It’s really important we make sure there’s a constant flow of oxygen to your brain.” A burly young man lowered an oxygen mask over my face, but as I breathed in I felt sleepy.

I tried to raise my head, but the other paramedic gently pushed it down, “Shh. Shh. Nighty night, Mr. Sullivan.”

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 4

I heard the whirring of an industrial strength ceiling fan. I knew the sound because I listened to a legion of them all day long in a previous job- my first LA job. I worked nine hours, loading and unloading shipping containers. Seconds later, I felt a tiny prick of a needle in my leg and then seconds later I blacked out.

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I awoke again, but this time, along with the hum of the ceiling fans, I heard water dripping. The way that it was hitting, it sounded like it was falling into a metallic sink. Each drop drummed in my ears, a consistent tapping, like someone knocking gently on the door. The flow increased, but still the water fell in drops, until it sounded like that same person banging, desperately trying to gain entry. My eye opened a crack, or at least it tried. They were so heavy, I began to wonder if they were stitched shut. I could move nothing else except for my left eye, but as it began to slowly open, like a massive stone door being lifted by an army of men, I felt a tiny prick of a needle in my leg and then, darkness.

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The dripping had ended when I felt myself return consciousness again, but the same dull hum of the ceiling fans remained. It was accompanied by another noise, and one that would have caused the hair to stand up on my neck, if not for the fact that I could feel nothing. It sounded like metal scraping on metal, like someone using a rake on a chain link fence, over and over again. Or, it could have been something else, something much worse. It didn’t ease my fear that I was basically helpless, seemingly paralyzed.

It was difficult to describe the exact feeling, but it was similar to the time I overdosed on a bathroom concoction that was supposed to be meth, but was actually laced with animal tranquilizer. My friend Danny thought it would be funny to be high and pretend we were crippled. It didn’t help that he was already high when he had the idea. Even at sixteen, I thought Danny was an idiot.

Little by little, I gained the feeling back into my fingers. Despite this fact, it felt like they were heavily splinted. I tried to open my eyes, but it was futile. I was blindfolded.

Just as my arms gained mobility again, I felt the prick of a needle in my thigh.

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I woke to a horrible sound, but an even worse smell, like science class when we dissected the foetal pig. The thick stench of formaldehyde hung in the air, blocking everything else. I didn’t need to see what was in the room to know that something sharp, probably a saw, was cutting through a piece of meat. I heard the saw scrape against bone, and then a discernible cracking as the bone was cut through cleanly, then a wet sucking sound. The saw went back and forth, and without the bone, it severed the target easily, because in a few seconds, I could hear the saw strike metal. I desperately fought against my bonds at this point, knowing that if I didn’t, I would likely be next.

I figured that I was in some organ harvesting plant. Dr. Travers had given me the vaccination, which primed my body for extraction, and now, I would leave here in a bag- in pieces. I fought against the cocktail flowing through my veins, obviously brought on by the needles, and managed lift my legs- but they were bound. I thrust my arms upward, or at least tried- they too were bound in place.

“Now.”

Needles entered every limb in my body. As a needle punctured my neck, I didn’t so much as fall asleep as fall unconscious. One moment I was thinking of escape and the next, a void.

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“Hey! Hey you, wake up!” A high-pitched voice filled my ears, attacking my senses.

I rolled over in bed, grumbling, “Screw off, kid. You’re not allowed in the break room.”

Moments later, I felt myself being shook awake. My eyes flew open and immediately narrowed as the light pierced them. Eventually, my eyes adjusted to the sudden assault of brightness, and I was able to see my attacker. A raven-haired little girl peered at me. She was immensely cute with a perfectly oval-shaped face, framed by light greyish-blue eyes. Her perfect little nose twitched as she regarded me curiously.

I pulled the covers over my face, still feeling exhausted. I really needed to sleep before my shift started. Seconds later, I felt the girl roughly shaking me. “Wake up! Come on, wake up!”

I heard a crackle of static and then a sing-songy voice, sounding like it was coming from a record player, “Madison, it’s not nice to wake your friend like that! In fact, it’s very wrong, why not wake her with a wonderful song?”

This immediately got my attention. Had I smoked some weed laced with LSD, or something worse? Even underneath the blankets, I began to feel like something was inherently wrong. As I gained more control over my limbs, and the feeling came back into my body, I noticed that hair obscured one of my eyes. I always kept my hair short. It wasn’t a military buzz cut, but it was still only an inch long.

The record player spoke again, or rather sang, “Come, Madison sing with me, sing about the beautiful day Kaylee is missing if she continues to hit the hay!” The thing warbled, “Ok!! Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day! Please join me, Madison!”

I threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, yelling, “What in the actual fuck is going on here?!”

My hands flew to my throat as my previous words were uttered with absolutely dulcet tones. My scream was high-pitched, but unlike the horror movie bimbos, the ones who wore high heels while trying to run from the killers, it was immature. It was the voice of a little kid.

A second after my utterance, I heard an obnoxious siren and then a record player the size of a big screen TV with a woman’s face (that was really the only way to describe it!) entered my field of view. “Kaylee, that’s a very naughty word! This is something we must absolutely curb. Do you understand why this word is banned?”

Madison, the girl who shook me awake, said quickly, “Just say yes.” As Madison spoke, I noticed that I was actually looking up at her. None of this was possible. Had the doctors in the basement cut my vocal chords, had they removed my legs? I took a step backwards, as my faculties continued to process what had happened to me.

Madison shook her head, “Oh for god sakes, girl. I figured it out in two seconds. They’ve turned us into children. Look at yourself. You look like me.” She pointed to a door which I assumed was the bathroom.

As I walked unsteadily toward the bathroom, the record player thing (woman?) followed me, as did Madison. It said, “Kaylee. Do you understand why this word is banned?”

As soon as I reached the mirror, I knew why the weird record player had called me that. Certainly, I could look down at my tiny feet or peer at my hands, which were dainty, and equally small, and I could see my little body clad in a pair of pink pajamas with a yawning cartoon cat saying “Too cute to sleep”, but seeing my face in the mirror removed the final cobwebs from my mind.

Staring back at me was absolute perfection, a little girl with bright blue eyes and pig-tails. My jaw dropped as I saw the extreme clarity and depth of my eyes. The large crystal blue spheres were expressive and were such a vivid blue, that I thought for a moment I was staring into a fifty-inch plasma television with a three-dimensional effect. The eyes sparkled in the available light, the black pupils seemingly shooting out rays of cascading and intense blue.

“Kaylee. Do you understand why this word is banned?”

I blinked and my eye lashes fluttered. I proceeded to blink rapidly, surprised by the length and fullness of my lashes. My chin formerly recessed (read weak) did not protrude overly, but it had enough presence to shape my jaw line in a way that would be considered symmetrical. My soft jaw line was supported by a pair of cherubic cheeks that would make most women (and some men), who were so inclined, gush over my very presence. It was the type of face that begged to be pinched by some half-senile great aunt.

It was also the type of face that would make others exclaim, “She’ll be a real heartbreaker when she grows up.” The very thought terrified me, even though I was probably ten years away from that happening.

My nose was a crafted beauty, as the tiny up-turned appendage seemed to exist only to allow me to breath from two perfectly-shaped nostrils. My skin was lightly tanned and had a wonderful healthy glow that I would have enjoyed on a bikini model, or Jessica. Shit. I had completely forgotten to text her before the ambulance took me away.

“Kaylee. Do you understand why this word is banned?”

It was difficult to determine my age, only because kids grew at different paces. All I knew was that the girl I had become belonged in an elementary school, probably in the junior yard. Not all the schools I attended had segregated yards, but the first few did. It was an attempt to keep the older children from dominating the younger. I, of course, often brazenly marched into the senior kids’ yard wanting to play.

My hair was a sandy blonde, or as I liked to call it, Malibu blonde. As much as I had a deep-seated jealousy, and sometimes hatred, for the wealthy, and very wealthy, the girls in Malibu- well, they were about as perfect as could be. A culture of perfection permeated there, so hips, thighs and tummies were tucked, breasts enlarged, and the boring- the tedious dishwater brown hair, was coloured. I wasn’t sure, but I think there were more blondes in Malibu than anywhere else in the world. The few road trips I took out to the beaches there usually led to impressive scores.

“Kaylee. Do you understand why this word is banned?”

Some of the girls there too, had been pristine conservative family values types, but when they moved to Malibu, they disposed of their values and their virginity. I knew it because so many of them called out His name after intense doggy style. Were they praying for the second time to be better, or were they thanking Him?

“Hey! Just say you understand, so Musica will leave us the hell alone!” Madison was looking at me crossly. Her bottom lip was puckered, in a gentle pout.

I was brought from the reverie of my sexual escapades by Madison’s shrill voice. I looked to the bizarre record player and said, “Sure, Musica- I get it. No swearing.”

Madison asked, “What’s your name? I mean your real name. Not your weirdo-kids-playroom-horror fantasy-name.”

I looked at the girl and then at myself, shaking my head in the process. “This isn’t real. I’m in a hospital somewhere, or I’m dead. This is impossible.”

Madison shrugged her shoulders, “It’s real. I’ve been here for a few days I think. Well that ridiculous music player wakes me up every morning, so I know it’s been two at least. I don’t know how you slept through it.”

I said with a smile and a touch of madness. “No, it’s not. Because it’s impossible for this to happen. So I’m dreaming, or I’m really high. I hope…that I’m high. Like really high. Man, it must be some incredible shit to dream up this.” I motioned to Musica.

Musica reacted immediately, “If I catch you saying another naughty word today, they’ll be no free play!”

Madison sighed, “Great, I’m trapped in a room with a drug addict. Oh god, I hope you don’t start kicking or whatever it is addicts do. I’m not holding your hair while you puke.”

I shook my head, “I’m not a drug addict. I don’t do any needle drugs, just pot mostly these days. Come on, you’ve done pot before, right?”

Madison nodded, “Yeah. A few times. So what’s your name? Your real name.”

I looked down at myself, and then peered at myself in the mirror, taking in the image of a confused little blonde-haired girl. I said sheepishly, “I still don’t believe this is real. But it’s Ryan. Ryan Sullivan. I guess your name isn’t- ”

Before I had a chance ask if the girl’s real name was Madison, she burst out laughing. It wasn’t a musical lilt or a little giggle, it was a full-bodied mocking explosion of laughter.

The girl pointed a finger at me, seeming to regain her composure for a moment, she said, “Really? I-I…Oh how…terrible for you!”

The moment was lost as again she viciously ridiculed me. The high-pitched laughter was punctuated by the odd snort. It was very light, and hardly noticeable, but it was familiar. I seethed as Musica turned toward Madison.

The music player said, “It’s not polite to point, and look it’s got poor Kaylee all out of joint!”

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the girl. I took in her features, the greyish blue eyes, the dimpled cheeks that would expand and contract with each new burst of laughter, but it was the derisive snorting that clued me in.

I sneered, “Ashley.”

The girl flew in front of me and looked at me with brand new eyes. Within her orbs, I saw supreme enjoyment. She snorted lightly before managing to compose herself enough to speak, “Oh. My. God. You are so slow. You really didn’t recognize me? You practically had your eyes glued to me at the bus stop when we first met. Or were you looking at something else? My face pretty much looks the same give or take 15 years, save my nose, but hmm, I guess my body is a little different, hmm? You are really clueless. But…this is just too funny. You really think this is a dream? Oh Kay-lee, Kay-lee, Kay-LEE, what have you gotten yourself into?”

I shouted, “The exact same thing happened to yooouuuu! And call me Ryan!”

My eyes widened as I heard my voice. I sounded like a petulant child. Worst of all, I had put a bizarre emphasis on the word ‘you’ that sent shivers running up and down my spine. The zigzagging syllables of the word took off from my mouth like a runaway rocket.

Ashley burst out laughing again, “I mean Musica said I was getting a roomie, but this is just beyond perfect. Yes, Kaylee, I was caught too. I got the vaccine, just like you did. And while this sucks for me,” her eyes took on a devilish quality, while her mouth curled into a satisfied smirk, “I can’t imagine how much more it sucks for you.”

Her eyes widened with a terrifying energy, the blue mingling with the grey in torrid unity, “And this? This is real. So real. Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

She reached out and roughly pinched my arm, which caused a girlish yelp to escape from my lips. I pushed the girl away as forcefully as possible, and she tumbled backward.

This awakened Musica, “Girls! Stop acting this way, or you’ll both lose your play!”

I looked at the record player more closely. A cartoon face of a woman was attached to the table of the old-timey player. The needle actually sat directly in the middle of her nose. As she moved about the room, I could hear the gears spinning. Her mouth moved like an animatronic Chuckee Cheese character, inhuman with a slight jerkiness. Despite this, the voice had a discernible human quality in the form of emotion.

I took a few steps back from Ashley as she picked herself up with a huff. “Look at all of this crazy stuff around us. How can you not think this is a dream? I mean look at this thing. And turning younger, and me, well- it’s just not possible. The only explanation is that this is a dream. And the pinching is a lame test. I’ve felt pain before in dreams.”

Ashley’s retort was snarky, “Are you sure it wasn’t a drug induced haze?

I shook my head, “Why do you care that I think it’s a dream or whatever? Just leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’ll wake up, and you’ll be a really, really bad memory.”

The hard lines on Ashley’s face painted a picture of extreme seriousness so unusual for a girl her age. “Because I told you, I’ve been here for two days. Twice I’ve gone to sleep and woken up, and everything I see feel and taste. It’s all real. I need your help because you are the only other person I’ve seen, and we are better off working together than fighting all the time.”

She sighed, “Look it’s really none of your business, but I used to be a lucid dreamer. Someone who wanted to try and reach a state of awareness in my dreams. I’ve actually reached this state a few times. So I know a couple tricks. A test to know if you are dreaming. Will you trust me to try them? After that, you can decide whether you still think you are sleeping. OK?”

I said, “I don’t give a fuck what you say. You aren’t real. None of this is real. I’m not helping you. You know that your dream self is an even bigger bitch than the real you? You’re so bossy. Just let me figure this shit out on my own.”

Musica chimed, “Kaylee, I’m sorry to say, you’ve lost your free play! But tomorrow is another day, and good girls who listen and don’t say naughty words will get their just rewards!”

I gave the music box the finger and stomped out of the bathroom. This whole setup was crazy. I was starting to think that the pot I had smoked the night before had been laced with something- experimental.

I took in my surroundings, taking a very long look at the bedroom I apparently shared with Ashley. That girl was such a goddamn know-it-all! Everyone dreams! I knew that if this was a dream, the objects I saw wouldn’t remain constant. I knew that words on the pages of books looked strange, usually impossible to read. I didn’t need someone who called herself an expert or whatever dreamer to tell me that. Apparently, my subconscious hated Ashley more than my conscious self.

The room looked like a standard room that sisters might share. I had no siblings and only had male cousins, so I hadn’t seen a girl’s room until my first year of high school, and by then, the stuffed animals and dolls had been replaced with band posters and makeup tables. I honestly didn’t do a whole lot of sightseeing past the actual bed.

Next to the bunk bed that Ashley and I apparently shared was a small night table. On the table was an object that personified the intensely feminine theme of the room- an ornate princess lamp. The body of the lamp showed a young woman wearing a sweeping ball gown. She was forever set in a dancing pose, her arms outstretched as if seeking a partner. The lamp itself looked fragile, with the body made from thin glass. It wasn’t the type of object one expected to see in the room of two little girls, who probably had to be told daily not to touch it. This was the first sign that I was actually within a dream. I wasn’t a parent and even I thought having the lamp in the room was a terrible hazard.

Above the night table, however, was something that made me consider that this could be my reality. Written in flowery script next to the bunk bed was the following, “Once upon a time, two princesses were born…!” Underneath the writing was a set of fabric letters spelling out KAYLEE and MADISON. My mouth opened slightly as my eyes returned to the letters and they did not dissolve or become impossible to read. I recalled a dream I had where I was studying for a test (yeah right), and as I looked down, I couldn’t make out the words in the book. Here, the words, the letters spelling out the name given to me by this world never changed.

“They are going to stay the same. It’s the first test in lucid dreaming. You read a clock or a book, and you know you are dreaming if they change. Now do you believe me? This isn’t a dream, Ryan. Tonight, you are going to go to bed, and you’ll wake up as Kaylee. And it will be the same the next day. Believe me when I tell you, I’ve tried everything.”

Ashley said firmly, “I even held my breath until I nearly passed out.”

I shook my head, “Here’s the only test that matters. I don’t look like Ryan Sullivan. That’s it. Now leave me alone.”

Ashley shouted, “You are so stubborn! Why won’t you believe me? We’re in real trouble here. I have no idea what they are planning, and if you haven’t noticed, we are really vulnerable like this. We have to figure out a way out of here.”

I turned my back to her, and she stayed quiet. Unfortunately, Musica chose this moment to spring to life. “Time for free play! Choose any three toys! Sorry, Kaylee, you are banned from this today.”

Ashley moved toward the toy box at the far side of the room. In keeping with the girly girl theme of the room, there was also a closet with the words “SUPERSTAR MAKEOVER” written in neon pink. I assumed it was full of costumes, but either way, I wanted nothing to do with anything in the room.

I heard Ashley burst out, “Wow! I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid. ” I turned around, and I could see Ashley carefully brushing the long golden hair of a decapitated doll.

I said, “Why are you giving into this? You are acting exactly like a kid would. You say you want to fight against this, but then you are sitting there brushing the hair of that stupid looking doll's head.”

Ashley glared at me, “This is a Zoe Glamour bust. It’s just missing the part below the head. And it was one of my favourite toys growing up. As for why I’m playing with her? Because Musica will constantly, and I mean constantly tell me that it is play time. The first day, I refused and she kept telling me it was play time for a solid three hours. I played with this Barbie corvette for five minutes, and that appeased her.”

She added, “Plus, I’m of the mind that I don’t want to make the people angry who did this to us. I’m rebelling in my mind, I mean I don’t like playing with this stuff. But if I do it then I can think of ways to escape.”

I said with a smirk, “You’re weak. That’s why. It’s all bullshit, Ashley. You are giving up two days in. Just like my mom, you cave under a little pressure. I used to see if I could get her to absolutely lose it. I’d make these ridiculously annoying noises- over and over again. And she caved each time. You know what happened when I did that with my dad? Let’s just say I only did it once.”

She shook her head, “At least I’m not delusional, Kay-lee. And I don’t believe in physically disciplining a child. Your dad doing that- well I think it’s led to some of your ‘brodude’ issues. What would you do when faced with a nattering music player? I think you’d cave.”

I nodded, “Fucking wreck her. I could hear a bunch of gears as she was moving around. I could probably just jam something in there and make it impossible for her to move then take her apart piece by piece.”

Ashley said matter-of-factly, “Typical male response. Break stuff. Once you do that, we’ve lost our advantage. If we play along, then we can bide our time and look for an opening.”

I replied, “And in the meantime, you’re playing with that doll every day and you start to enjoy it.”

Ashley replied, while continuing to brush Zoe’s hair, “The same thing could happen to you.”

I scoffed at the girl, “Not likely. Why would I want to play with a bunch of girl toys?”

Musica sung softly, “It’s OK to be jealous of your friend Kaylee, but tomorrow will be a bright new day, you’ll see!”

Play time continued, and I took this time to wander around the room, looking for signs that I was living through a nightmare. In the far corner of the room, I found a refrigerator, and upon opening it, I noticed that it was packed with items that were a testament to late 90s after school (or Saturday morning) commercials- aimed primarily at kids. Like Ashley with the doll or bust, I felt a sudden sense of nostalgia, bringing me back firmly to a time where I had few concerns in the world- the most pressing being what I was going to watch on TV next.

Snack packs, Sunny Delicious, and even the old generic 2% milk cartons from the cereal commercials could be found in the fridge. On top of the fridge, I could see a collection of cereals that didn’t even exist any longer. There were Oreo O’s which was basically like eating a box of Oreo cookies in hoop form, and if that wasn’t appetizing, there was the breakfast cereal that was supposed to taste like French toast.

Because of my schedule at the restaurant and late night escapades, breakfast usually consisted of black coffee. Still I hadn’t had either cereal in years, and since there was no coffee maker in the room of two apparent princesses, I quickly poured a bowl. Everything in the room was at eye level for me, so I didn’t need a stool or a chair to reach the drawer with the utensils. What I thought at first was a play kitchen was actually a fully functioning kitchen, minus the stove or the microwave.

I took one bite of the cereal and my taste buds came to life. It was like I had poured ambrosia over them, and each bite was better than the last. My eyes lit up as I felt the sugar coursing through my body, and I rapidly shovelled the rest of the bowl into my mouth. As I poured myself a second bowl, I pictured myself at Kaylee’s age, sitting in front of the television on a Saturday morning, clad in only a pair of Superman pajamas, I sat transfixed, enjoying the action and revelling in the existence of such larger-than-life characters. Like most boys my age, I was obsessed with superheroes, so anything with strong-chinned men battling alien menaces or flying to save the city from a bomb threat- it was all right up my alley.

I found it easy to lose myself within the memory, and I felt my mind beginning to drift further to that time. It was a period of high adventure, where anything dreamed up within my imagination could exist. I could be that superhero, smashing my fist into the maw of some deranged creature, saving millions in the process. A little smile appeared on my face as I finished the second bowl of cereal.

***

Throughout the day, Ashley continued to pester me with what she called ‘reality checks’ to prove that I wasn’t in a dream. Musica kept us busy (and annoyed) with constant attempts at sing-a-longs, games and lessons. While hers and Ashley’s attempts were unsuccessful in gaining my attention, I began to have doubts that I was actually sleeping. I couldn’t remember a dream so vivid, or so detailed. At lunch, I pulled sandwiches from the fridge and munched on them at the small table in the kitchen. The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tasted incredible, and again, my mind returned to the past. My mom used to cut off the crusts. She never forgot even once. It was such a foolish memory, but it brought a pang to my heart, knowing that the innocence and joy of those moments would end in an absolutely fractured relationship between us.

As I finished, Ashley brought her own sandwich to the table. She was the one who initiated all the conversation at this point, and I hoped I could slink away from the table without another one of her sleep lectures.

She sat down at the table, unwrapping a ham sandwich and a package of carrot sticks. I thought I was home free, but a quick sniff of the air brought a shout from the girl, “Were you eating peanut butter?! I’m really, really allergic!”

I threw my hands in the air, “I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

Even though I wanted to desperately believe that I was still living in a dream, the way Ashley acted was unlike anything I had ever seen. How could my mind have dreamed up such a complete person?

I had left a smear of peanut butter on the table, which was now fixed to Ashley’s palm. She stared down at it with horror, but her breathing never changed. She shook her head in disbelief.

I said, “Maybe this is a dream. I mean that’s impossible right. Your throat should have swollen up by now if you are that allergic.”

Ashley, perhaps believing my words, returned to the fridge and removed a plastic wrapped sandwich. She sat down at the table, unwrapped the sandwich and took a big bite. I watched her in fearful fascination. I didn’t like the girl, but I didn’t want her to die.

“Mmm! So good! And this one is made with chunky peanut butter I think. So this is what I was missing…it tastes amazing.”

I nodded, “So that’s just not possible. You should be convulsing on the floor. Nothing works here the way it should. Not to mention our bodies. Maybe one of us is in a coma or something. I don’t know. I mean I had this really messed up dream before this one.”

Ashley quirked a brow toward me, “Really? Like what?” She took another massive bite from the peanut butter sandwich, washing it all down with a HiC juice box.

I replied, “Well I was strapped down, and they kept-“

Ashley interrupted, “Poking you with needles?”

This brought a sense of instant fear. Ashley’s voice was unsteady as she spoke the words, while my right leg began to shake gently.

I nodded, “Yeah. And there were these sounds, sort of like well a butcher shop or a construction site in some cases. There was dripping, and the sound of metal on metal, then something sharp going through bone.”

The more I remembered, the more frightened I became. The memory of the sounds assaulted my mind, a creeping fear inching its way up my spine to rest within my head, like a thousand spider eggs suddenly hatching and hairy wriggling bodies climbing over each other desperately trying to escape their confines.

Ashley shivered, “I remember the exact same thing. All those sounds you describe. Everything. Did you try to open your eyes or move, and it felt like trying to move through molasses?”

I nodded, growing more fearful, yet angry at the same time, finding this almost debilitating fear a painful sign of weakness. I was a grown man, I shouldn’t have been scared of some noises. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ashley said, “You know it’s OK to be scared of this, Ryan. Something unbelievable has happened to us. You’ve got to admit that it’s a pretty big coincidence that we had the exact same experience though. Even lucid dreaming, where you are actually aware you are dreaming, isn’t this complex or nuanced. I agree that the whole peanut butter thing is really weird. But I wish you’d believe me, this isn’t a dream. Look, I’ll stop bugging you about it OK?”

I shrugged my shoulders and left Ashley to finish the rest of her sandwich.

***

Ashley whispered to me, “Just play along with this, OK?”

I sighed, “What do you mean?”

Ashley replied, “Musica is going to try and teach us a bunch of stuff we already know. I don’t know what the purpose of it is. I mean, it’s probably to get us into the mindset. The more I think about it, the food we’ve been eating, and the toys from when we were kids- I think they are trying to get us to start thinking and acting like kids.”

Musica glided toward us. The closer I looked, I could see that she was actually attached to the ceiling. On the ceiling, were a set of tracks that guided her movement. These tracks led to the bathroom, kitchen area and the bedroom. The room itself had no windows, and even stranger, no doors, other than the one leading to the bathroom.

“Alright girls, we’ll play a fun game and write our name!” Musica glided toward a small table with two plastic chairs. On top of the table, was a set of pens and a stack of papers. I rolled my eyes, deciding not to follow Ashley to the table.

Ashley shouted toward me, “She’s going to bug us until you do it! It’ll take three seconds!”

I shook my head, choosing to search the room for a television or a video game system to take my mind off the madness that was unfolding before me. Ashley huffed and took a pen in her hand.

“W-What’s going on? Why can’t I do it?”

I heard Ashley’s voice from the other side of the room. Her frustration reached a point where I saw a pen fly in my direction. Even if this wasn’t the real Ashley, I would certainly take a moment to revel in her defeat at the hands of- a piece of paper and a pen.

I grinned, feeling my lip curl into a satisfied smirk. I approached the girl and peeked over her shoulder. I could see that she managed to very crudely sketch out an ‘A’, but the lines were crooked. The ‘S’, however, or rather, the multiple variations, were a collection of awkward loops that looked nothing like the letter Ashley intended. I took this moment to laugh at the girl, the sound bursting from my chest and into my mouth like a shrill trumpet blast.

Ashley thrust a pen into my hand and the slightly taller girl managed to firmly guide me to a chair, “You try!”

Musica said with a smile, “If at first you don’t succeed, try-try again, you can’t expect to get it the second you begin!”

I laughed again, a boisterous belly laugh, as I formed the letters of my name in my mind. I knew exactly what the letters looked like and how to spell them. I took the pen firmly in my hand, intending to write RYAN in cursive. My hand wouldn’t cooperate. It was like I had never performed the action before. I managed to draw a jagged line for the ‘R’, switching to printed letters, but the moment I tried the loop, I just couldn’t get my hand to follow the direction my brain was giving. My loop extended beyond the point where it actually resembled an ‘R’ as I failed to curve it. It looked like a lower case ‘r’ with the longest top in history.

To me, again, this was proof that what I was living was a horrible dream. Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that my motor skills, even before I had come to this bizarre dream world, were failing. My inability to play Halo and the missed catch from Greg all pointed to the vaccine, but my brain refused to admit this because doing so meant accepting that I was Kaylee.

True to her word, Ashley didn’t try to push the reality theory again. We both continued to struggle with writing our names. By the end of it, we were tearing up the pages in frustration. That goddamn loops seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

Musica chimed, “Don’t worry, girls! Practice makes perfect. You’ll see, inch by inch, eventually your loops will be a cinch!”

I grumbled, “Fuck off, Musica.”

***

Tucked away underneath a series of girlie board games (did girls even want to play something called Dream Phone?), I found a Gameboy colour with a single cartridge inside. While Ashley continued to practice her letters for hours, under Musica’s watchful eye, I entered the world of the PowerPuff Girls- a team of child superheroes who had eyes so huge, it made me think they had eaten some really excellent shrooms.

The game itself wasn’t very good, but it took my mind off of the lunacy before me. I continued to hear Ashley cursing her inability to write her name. As I became immersed in the game, I noticed that it was a standard platformer, which was the easiest genre usually. Like Halo, however, I absolutely sucked at the game. At first, I couldn’t even get passed the first pit. My motions were extremely exaggerated with my arms flying up, nearly losing my grip on the Gameboy, each time I tried to navigate a pit.

I took a break to eat dinner. I realized that the sandwiches filled me up well, and the pudding I had for dessert left me feeling completely full. Musica insisted that we both have a large glass of milk each. After supper, I returned to the game, while Ashley returned to the table. After what felt like hours, and as the Gameboy’s battery started dying, I finally finished the first level. I felt an intense sense of satisfaction, greater than a Halo kill streak or even a really successful night with a smoking hot girl.

Musica chimed, “Time for bed, girls! But don’t worry tomorrow we’ll explore so many fun worlds!”

Ashley had actually gotten dressed, but I had stayed the entire day in my pajamas. Had it really been an entire day? Again, I couldn’t remember a dream where I was completely aware of my surroundings or one where I actually knew I was dreaming- let alone one that lasted an entire day.

I looked at the clock, and I could see it was 8 PM. Despite this fact, I realized that I was exhausted. I used to do the morning shift at the Palace and then sleep until 8, knowing that my night was going to be long and hopefully fruitful, but now I was actually ready for bed.

Ashley said, “It gets really dark in here, I-I um, I like to usethenightlight.”

I laughed, “Are you serious? You’re a grown woman scared of the dark? Really?”

Ashley looked at me crossly, “Shut up, Kay-lee! It’s almost pitch black in here when the lights go out. And I was alone for the first few nights. Not everyone is an emotionless prick who only cares about himself. I’ve tried to explain to you that this is real, and I hoped you’d be smart enough to realize it is.”

She looked at me sadly, fear crossing her pretty features as her eyes darted back and forth. “This is terrifying for me, Ryan. I’ve been here by myself for two days with that ridiculous music player. I don’t know if anyone knows where I am- I don’t know if I’m going to die! But you don’t give a shit, because you’re King of the Assholes, right? You can just step all over your feelings like they don’t matter. Well you won’t be able to do that here.”

She looked me right in the eyes, “Because sooner or later, you are going to realize this is your reality, and you’ll be bawling your eyes out, acting exactly how you look. But you know what? I’ll be there for you, even though you haven’t been there for me. You know why? Because I’m a better person than you. A better human being.”

I said, “Am I supposed to be insulted by that? Did your therapist tell you that it is normal for an adult woman to be scared of the dark? If this is real by the way, you’ve already lost. You might as well be a deer eating right out of the hands of the hunter. You know what happens to the better people? They get destroyed. It’s a good thing you were fucking hot, Ashley because there was no way you were going to make it in Hollywood with your attitude. The moment you show a sign of weakness, there are ten people just waiting to knock you off the ladder. Did I care that I lied in my audition? No, because I got the part. It’s all about the face we put on, and that face determines our success. And right now, your face looks like it belongs on a scared little girl.”

In a huff, Ashley climbed the top bunk and immediately set her head on the pillow. I slid into the lower bunk, claiming my victory silently. I waited a few minutes, listening for Ashley’s breathing to change. Despite her fear, like me, she was likely exhausted from a fully stimulating day. I saw no sign of Musica, so I slowly slipped out of bed and proceeded to climb the ladder to the top bunk.

My younger cousins had been the unfortunate victims of my boyhood pranks, which usually left them holding each other, and one time, actually peeing the bed. I would lay in wait for them. They usually took forever in the washroom for whatever reason, so I would wait in the wonderful embrace of pitch black darkness, listening for their footsteps as they approached the door. I had to sleep on the floor when they visited because with two of them, my mom said it made more sense for them to share my bed.

Hiding underneath the bed, I waited for the exact moment that one of them would lift his leg to climb into the bed, then I would seize it, gripping hard and pulling, as if I were a creature trying to pull them into my lair deep beneath the bed. This usually resulted in hysterical crying and copious amounts of laughter, following by a scolding from my mom, which I always ignored.

Eventually, they figured out that I was hiding under the bed, so I changed my tactics. I listened for their breathing to change, indicating that they were just on the cusp of sleep. As they entered a world between awareness and a dream state, I would grip one of their limbs and make a noise that could only belong to a three-eyed monster with row upon row of razor-sharp teeth. Even if the other boy wasn’t asleep, he knew to stay quiet, because the next night it would be worse.

My dad never said anything about it, unlike my mom who had apparently been tormented by her brother. It was, after all, just boys being boys. It made sense in my mind, and it was the perfect defence for my actions. I eventually grew out of it, and my cousins learned that sleeping on the floor was a safer place than my bed.

I reached out and grabbed Ashley’s foot, which made an attractive target, sticking out from the safety of her covers. I didn’t need to emit a monster noise, no- the girl shrieked like she was possessed, throwing herself at me and knocking me off the ladder. She began crying hysterically, her breaths ragged, each one entering her body with a slight gasp.

She screamed, “You fucking...asshole! I hate…you! I-I can’t believe you…did that to…me!”

I wasn’t laughing, mostly because Ashley’s fierce push had sent me tumbling to the floor. I landed on my back, striking my head against what was thankfully a carpeted floor. I felt my bottom lip begin to quiver as pain shot through my system. Tears welled, but I violently thrust them away with a quick finger. I rose to my feet unsteadily, while Ashley continued to cry.

Eventually, Ashley’s hysterical crying became more of a strangled whimper. Her breathing had slowed down, but I could still hear the odd gasp for air. I feared retaliation, but it never came, and I slowly drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke, darkness still blanketed the room. I could hear the gentle ticking of the wall clock, but I couldn’t see the time from my bed. The clock reminded me of the nightmare, previous to this one, where I could hear water dripping into a metal tub. Each tick brought back the horror from that moment, causing me to grip the covers tightly. I peered into the darkness, and even without shadows, my mind quickly sketched out beasts to fill my fear. Inky shapes filled my eyes, and I shut them rapidly.

Considering I rarely slept in anything other than boxers, I knew that I had awoken as Kaylee, and while this fear, along with the beasts that likely wanted to dine on my blood, was prevalent, my mind and body were still exhausted. So, while I still gripped the covers more tightly, even pulling them up to my nose at times, I managed to fall back asleep.

“Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day!”

My eyes shot open, and while Musica’s presence reaffirmed my fears, the feeling of the pajamas and the dangling pig tails shot the point home that I had awoken not once, but twice as Kaylee. No dream was as multi-layered as this.

Oh god, Ashley was right.

This was real.

Had some people asking for Chapter 5 a little earlier. So here it is. Enjoy. As always, please leave a comment if you are so inclined. I love to read the discussions regarding the plot and character or just what people think of the story itself. Believe me when I say that as an author, these comments and kudos are a huge motivating factor for me to continue writing.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 5

I lay in bed, my face completely devoid of emotion. Musica continued to sing about waking, but I didn’t budge. I heard movement above me, and saw Ashley slowly climb down the ladder. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and anger. The slight shake of her head couldn’t hide the raging tide of her eyes. She was still likely angry with me for the prank. I turned away from her and faced the wall.

My hands explored my face, feeling the delicate bone structure, the cherubic cheeks and the smooth hairless skin. Next, I peered down at my hands, as if seeing them for the first time. This was not some drug-induced nightmare. I couldn’t believe how tiny they looked, like the hands of a living doll. I flexed my fingers, wiggling them and then stared at the nails, which were adorned by a bright purple polish. My dainty toes were painted the same colour. I felt around the side of my head to my ear lobes, noticing little studs protruding from them.

Along my graceful neck, I could not locate my Adam’s apple. It had not only receded, it had completely disappeared. I had used the bathroom yesterday, so I knew what else was missing. I had spent yesterday in absolute denial, but I had to face reality- not only had I lost probably fifteen years of my life, I had lost my gender. Why hadn’t Ashley been turned into a little boy? It wasn’t fair.

As these feelings permeated my mind, I felt tears welling, and this time, I couldn’t stop them. With the full realization of my condition, the flood gates opened, and I lost complete control. My mind was a chaotic mess of jealousy, self-loathing and fear, the emotions crippled my system, and twenty-two years as a man could not halt the influx. Like a swarm of locusts descending on a field, the torrent destroyed my ego and devastated my masculine self.

It began with a few gentle tears tumbling down my face, but ended with my body wracked with sobs. I felt someone behind me, and then a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s OK, Ryan. Let it out. I’ve pretty much wanted to cry non-stop since I got here. It’s like we put up these barriers as adults, we grow, we learn to control our emotions, and then we’ve been put in these bodies that haven’t established any walls. There’s nothing there to stop the flow. Good and bad. I noticed it yesterday when I could finally write a passable ‘S’. It was this intense feeling- like a satisfaction you only receive when you do something new that completely changes who you are as a person. But it’s like that every time I succeed at something in this body.”

I covered my face with my hands, deathly afraid of the emotions that threatened to flood my mind. Yesterday, they had been on the periphery, but as soon as I felt even remotely scared, they tumbled out. I had felt it as I peered into the darkness last night, the childlike fear that resisted adult logic or reason, but this morning it was too much. My denial had been a powerful adult wall that was subsequently demolished by emotions that came and went like water from a faucet.

“Now you see why we have to work together, Ryan. And why we shouldn’t resort to childish pranks to hurt each other. Whatever is going on inside our brains probably feeds off it.”

She gently rubbed my back, but I turned over and fiercely brushed away the tears from my eyes. Ashley looked startled as I turned to look at her, but she didn’t leave the bed. I still couldn’t believe how easily it happened, and how unprepared I was for the onslaught. Would it happen like that every time I felt a powerful emotion?

I sniffed, “I haven’t cried like that, since- I can’t really even remember. Probably elementary school. When I broke my foot, I was with my dad, and I held it in. I just swallowed the big lump. I hated to cry in front of my dad. He never said anything, but I knew he would be disappointed if I did. But I cried later, in my room. Fuck it hurt.”

I added, “I’m not a pussy. I mean like you said, it’s like falling in a river when you can’t swim.”

Ashley rolled her eyes slightly, but a little smile appeared on her face. Oddly, Musica just watched the exchange, not saying a word. “No, Ryan, you aren’t a ‘pussy’ for showing emotion like that. Like I said before, I can’t imagine what is going through your head, knowing what you were before and what you are now. But we need to work together, and the first thing is- we need to know how this happened to us. Put the clues together and hopefully figure out how to change back and how to escape.”

She continued, “It’s obviously got something to do with the show we both auditioned for, and the vaccine we received. I’m guessing that Ms. Daniels and Doctor Travers are working together. She was the one who sent me the text about where to get the vaccine. It’s just too much of a coincidence. She knew she was sending us to the clinic to see Travers.”

I said, “I thought it was weird that we had to go to this specific clinic for the shot, but I was desperate for a job. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. I mean there was a clinic I could have gone to down the street from my place that probably offered them.”

Ashely nodded, “Well we’ve got that in common. I was ready to quit acting after my last audition. I got the part too, but I just couldn’t take it. It was a really sexist role, just three lines and eye candy in a bathing suit. Some stupid B movie, like Porkies, called Bikini Beach Patrol. I really wanted to show I could make it, but I just knew if I took that part, I’d never get a serious role ever again.”

I replied, “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal for you. Guys like those movies. It could have really pushed your career. You could star in the next Transformers movie. You had an incredible body, why didn’t you use it? You seemed to treat it like it was a massive disadvantage, when it could have been your ticket to success. I meant what I said. You were hotter than her.”

Ashley glared at me, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were still producing testosterone. I didn’t want anything to do with those movies, and I’d probably slit my wrists if I was in a Michael Bay movie, where the women are set pieces and nothing more. If I agreed, I’d be selling out my gender.”

I shook my head, “Those movies are harmless. Plus, if you didn’t agree to do it, well some other girl would. You just missed your opportunity. You can’t look like you do and expect to be treated the same way as like ... ”

The hard look never left Ashley’s eyes. The sympathy she had for me evaporated. “You can’t name one woman actress with a breast size below double D, can you?”

I shot back, “Sure I can. Karen, she’s Henry Hill’s wife in Goodfellas. She’s a great actress, and she’s pretty tiny up top. I actually felt bad for her, you know because she’s originally this nice girl and she’s all caught up in the mob life by the end of it. It sucks too because her husband goes to jail, and she’s stuck taking care of the kids, trying to fend for herself.”

Ashley nodded, but the hard look never left, “And what is the name of the actress?”

I said sheepishly, “I-I don’t know. I never looked it up. I just call her Karen.”

Ashley sighed, “So she puts on an incredible performance, and you don’t even bother to look her up? I know that movie isn’t very new, but do you see a problem with that? She’s a character, not a person to you. So many women face the same problem. They don’t stand out the same way that men do, or they stand out for the wrong reasons. I would have killed for that role, honestly.”

I shook my head, “Look, the whole industry is based on appearances. And women choose to be part of it. And you never would have gotten the part of Karen. She’s not ugly or anything, but she’s got these really angular features, she’s perfect for the role. I’m going to say, as much as you don’t want to hear it, you can’t have a body or a face like you did and expect to be in anything really serious. It’s not believable. You’ve got that big-budget action movie girlfriend, or ass-kicking leather wearing vampire chick look. But Karen Hill? No way.”

Ashley sneered at me, “And that is everything that is wrong with Hollywood. I’m a really good actress, but if people, and by people I mean Neanderthals trying to pass as casting directors, can only see what my body can offer, then it’s just broken. What’s the point?”

I said, “And that’s why you were going to quit because some casting director said you were too pretty? You just don’t get it. Just go for the roles you know you can get and watch the money roll in.”

Ashley shook her head, “I said I was going to be civil, but your attitude needs a serious adjustment. I’m starting to think this might be a really good experience for you. And I can’t help but really want, you know, in say ten years from now, when you finally figure out just how fucked up men are, that you’ll call me and say 'I’m sorry for being a sexist prick who didn’t have a clue about women. I know what you meant.' You know, the first time you catch your boyfriend cheating on you because you won’t put out.”

I smirked, “Is that what happened to you, is that why you are such a man hater?”

Ashley slid off my bunk and said, “No, Kay-lee, it’s not. When you can prove you are a human being, someone who actually cares about the feelings of others, maybe I’ll tell you.”

I glared at her, “Hey! I thought you weren’t going to call me that.”

Ashley replied, “I’d rather speak to a little girl at this point than someone with such a caveman mindset. Would you like to play dolls with me, Kay-lee? Maybe taking care of something other than yourself, and your dick, will teach you to be a nicer and more compassionate person.”

I shouted, “Cut it out! I thought we weren’t going to do this!”

Ashley went to the toy chest and returned with a very life-like doll. She thrust it into my arms with a smile, “There you go, Kay-lee. Now you can be a mommy. That feels nice doesn’t it? You want one of your own one day, right?”

I reached back and launched the doll at Ashley, intending to strike her right in the head, but my throw was well off the mark. The entire throwing motion was alien to me. I knew that I had to shift my feet to get extra power, but like the letters, my body just wouldn’t cooperate. The doll landed at Ashley’s feet. I knew Ashley, with her feminist mindset, would never ever say I threw like a girl, but she didn’t have to- because I was thinking just that.

Musica chimed to life, “Practice makes perfect, Kaylee! Try-try again, each day you’ll grow, and soon you’ll be throwing like a pro!”

I replied, “Seriously, fuck off, Musica.”

***

“Look, I’m sorry for the doll thing, but you really pissed me off with your comments. It’s just- you summed up everything I want to eliminate from this business. You have no idea what it’s like to be judged that way on your appearance.”

I had sulked in the corner until lunch, spending my time playing the Gameboy. I still could only beat the first level. I just couldn’t get the timing right for the second boss.

I tore into my peanut butter sandwich, and across from me, Ashley did the same. Despite her previous allergy, the girl had taken a real liking to the formerly deadly sandwich spread.

I said, “Sure I do. Casting agents told me that I didn’t have the right look. One guy even said that I would have to fix my chin if I wanted a chance. He’s like 'Male leads have strong, well-defined chins.' How ridiculous is that?”

Ashley nodded, “I’ve been told everything from get a boob job, get a reduction, get a nose job to narrow my nostrils- and even lose weight. Why did we ever get involved in this?”

I took a long swig of milk, followed by a less than delicate burp, “Because we want to entertain. I’ve always loved getting a reaction from people. I mean being filthy rich would be nice too, but I just want to be in a position where I really enjoy what I’m doing, get to play different people. Most of all I want other people to enjoy it, you know?”

A little smile appeared on the girl’s face as she listened to me. “Yes, exactly! And when did you know you wanted to be an actor?”

I told Ashley the story about my third grade Christmas pageant, and her eyes lit up. The smile on her face grew into a wide grin, and the terrified or overly serious girl was replaced with someone who actually had a personality. “Me too! But for me it was actually my first dance recital. I was probably five or six, and the other girls, they were terrified. I got up there and they had to get the hook to pull me off, I just loved it so much! It was a weird thing to be so focused as a kid, but I knew that I wanted to entertain. Whether people laughed, cried- it didn’t matter- I wanted a reaction. I tried out for the school play every year after that. Did your parents support you?”

I shrugged, “My dad wasn’t into the acting thing. He really wanted me to join the army. I-I guess my mom did though.”

Ashley scrunched her face slightly, her lips tightening and her nose wrinkling, “You OK, Ryan?”

I nodded, “Yeah, just thinking.”

Musica chimed, “Girls, it’s time to meet a very special friend, hurry and get dressed, he’s right around the bend!”

I narrowed my eyes and looked at Ashley for her reaction. She walked over to the dresser beside the bed, which I had never even bothered exploring. I was still wearing the same pair of pajamas with the cartoon cat. Unlike my male body, I barely sweat, and even when I did, there was no discernible odor emitting from my body.

I stood next to Ashley as she rifled through the dresser drawers, “You aren’t actually thinking of following her, are you? We have no idea where she’s going to take us. We definitely can’t trust her. Like you said, she’s trying to get us to start thinking like kids.”

Ashley handed me a light blue t-shirt with a glittery butterfly on it and a pair of navy blue jeans. She replied, “Let’s look at it this way, Ryan. Doctor Travers, through Ms. Daniels, gave us a shot, and it turned us into kids. Do we really want to risk not listening to them? Just follow my lead. We are obviously important to them. I don’t know why exactly, but I doubt they would go to all this trouble and then kill us. But, I’d imagine mentally, it could get a lot worse.”

She added, “Our best bet is just to play along at this point. We don’t know how they did this, beyond the shot. We don’t know if there’s a way for us to turn back. If we refuse to follow their orders at this stage, we are only hurting ourselves. Musica is no help, and you certainly aren’t learning anything playing that video game.”

She looked at me squarely, “Do you trust me?”

I looked down at the clothing in my hands with a sigh. I peered into the drawer at the sea of pink, the skirts, t-shirts and flowery dresses. Ashley had found the only pair of jeans and the only non-pink t-shirt. I nodded, “Uh. Yeah. I’ll follow your lead.” Ashley’s words made perfect sense. Powerful feelings of jealousy flowed through me as I realized that Ashley was a lot smarter than I was. It bugged the hell out of me.

I stood there glaring at her, still holding the offered clothing in my hands. She frowned, “What’s the matter, Ryan? Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shoved away the thoughts, but it was like trying to trap Godzilla in a cardboard box. She probably went to a fancy private school too. Memories of prim jacketed youth directing insults at my intelligence came flooding into my mind.

I was twelve, and it was our third move in as many years. I was used to losing my friends, but I wasn’t prepared for the bullying I would face. We had moved overseas for the first and last time. It was the beginning of the end for my family as I knew it. My dad would soon be called to Afghanistan, then Iraq, and as a result, I would lose him for months at a time. In the meantime, my mom tried to be my dad and failed miserably.

The kids on the base housing tended to be like me- easy going and ready to jump into new friendships. We understood they would be short lived, but we made the most of them. Off the base, I usually had little difficulty, but in Germany, at the pretentious preparatory school I was forced to attend, I was depressed enough that my teachers felt I should see a counsellor. My depression stemmed from the absolute culture shock I faced when trying to deal with the multinational snobs who were also my classmates.

With smaller class sizes and strict discipline, I couldn’t engage in my class clown routine, and even when I tried, not only did the teachers order me to stop, the students joined in too. It was like going to school with little adults, and I hated it because on top of not understanding the material, I also had no one to joke around with. When I was called on in class, I knew that every eye was on me. They were just waiting for me to get the wrong answer, so they could laugh at the stupid American.

My dad actually completed a shorter tour due to how poorly I was doing in school. The experience always stayed with me, and even with Ashley’s reasonable words, I couldn’t help but picture myself back in the classroom with those kids- laughing at me, then ignoring me at recess. They had years of that type of education, while I had been thrown into the classroom like a non-swimmer into a gigantic wave. It was my mom’s idea too. It had to be. She was always pushing me to do better in school.

“Ryan, are you, OK? Did I say something to make you angry?”

I finally managed to dismiss the thoughts of jealousy from my mind, and I felt my expression soften. “No, you didn’t. Uh, what’s with all the stuff in here, and the clothing? Why only one pair of jeans?”

Ashley shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t really know. I chose that for you figuring you wouldn’t want to wear a skirt or anything pink. I have a feeling they are experimenting on us. And especially on you. But we’ll get through it.”

I realized that I was lucky to have Ashley, and while she could be stubborn as me, she also had a lot more compassion. I could hear the sincerity in her words, and feel her warmth.

I said, “I’m sorry about last night. You know, for scaring you.”

Ashley nodded, “It’s OK. I guess it’s pretty childish to sleep with a night light. I was just really scared those first two nights. It’s like the darkness had eyes, and I swore I felt something pass over my body.”

I had experienced something similar, but I decided not to share this with Ashley. Perhaps it was the masculine spirit that still survived within my slight frame, but I had no desire to reveal weakness, even though I was coming to trust Ashley. I said, “Yeah. They probably want us to use the light. Act like scared kids or something.”

I took the clothes Ashley had given me into the bathroom and pulled the door closed. I was still too self-conscious to let her see my tiny new, soft body without at least some clothes, no matter how childish they might be.

After removing my pyjamas I could see what I'd been avoiding for some time - the tiny panties with a Disney Minnie Mouse image on the front. I quickly pulled on the jeans to conceal them. It was no surprise that they fit perfectly. They had neither buttons nor belt but were held up by an elasticated waist band - easy to pull down for you know what. The t-shirt had a sizing label on the collar - 'Girls 6 to 8 years'. There was a pair of tiny pink sneakers with Velcro fastenings to go with the lace-topped white ankle socks.

As soon as I rejoined Ashley in the main room there was a sudden whirring, then the sound of gears shifting, and suddenly, the superstar makeover closet slowly pulled away from the wall. Instead of the wall, it revealed a heavy looking metal door. It reminded me of a fire door in a high-rise. I bolted toward it, knowing that although it would likely lead us toward our captors it also promised freedom from our bedroom prison. I heard a gentle click, and the door opened on its own accord.

The doorway led to a narrow corridor. I quickly left the room, my little legs pumping, with Ashley trailing behind. The corridor was lit like a hospital or a school with fluorescent ceiling lights. The light in the bedroom was muted, but here, it was almost blinding. The entire corridor was painted white, while the floor was patterned like a black and white chessboard. I could see three doors, one to the left and right, and one at the end of the corridor. Each one was similar to the door that led back to the bedroom.

I stopped between the two doors to my left and right. Beside the handle to each one, I could see a security entry. The slight groove in the entry led me to believe that a pass or card would be required to open the doors. I saw Ashley’s eyes widen as she caught up to me. She was staring at the door on the right.

“I’ve seen that door before.”

I shook my head, “It’s the exact same as the others. Same as the one in the bedroom too.”

Ashley frowned, “No. Look closer.” The girl swallowed hard and pointed at it, “See these marks?” She was pointing out small indentations in the otherwise sturdy fire door. I nodded, and she continued, “I made them with my keys. I’ve definitely been in this corridor.”

Ashley’s mouth hung open, “I-I thought it was a dream though. Well more of a nightmare. It was before they started sticking me with all those needles. Before the sounds too.”

I blinked, “Is it possible that you escaped somehow? I mean- I guess they caught you eventually, but still. Do you remember how you did it?”

Ashley shook her head sadly, but with her diminutive size, she might as well have just received the terrible news that there would no pony rides at her birthday. “I don’t. But maybe if I see something else, it’ll jog my memory.”

Neither door opened, so we approached the far door. As we did, it immediately swung open, revealing the exact opposite of what I expected.

Considering the experiment we were part of, I expected to see a laboratory, but instead, we entered a massive hangar. Hundreds of studio lights hung from the rafters, placed carefully to provide lighting to four separate sound stages. I could see wooden sets featuring a classroom, a clubhouse, a music store and a two-storey family home. Lengthy boom mics, used to capture audio, also hung from the rafters, again strategically positioned on each sound stage. I thought this was odd, considering boom mics usually had operators. We had entered a television studio with no gaffers, grips, stage managers or camera operators.

Before action is called, television studios are the epicentres of motion, with hundreds of workers moving set pieces, hanging lights and running cable to prepare the area for the actors. The entire production crew was missing. Normally, even after action is called, grips remain on set to organize and place props, boom mic operators change locations to capture audio, and the lighting director remains a constant presence to instruct the crew of electricians as each scene unfolds. I had seen sets with skeleton crews, but it seemed as if everyone had taken lunch at the exact same moment.

At the centre of the room, there was a table with chairs well-suited to my new body. Each one looked like it had been plucked from an elementary school classroom.

“What the fuck is all this?”

“I don’t know, man, but this is seriously fucked up. First, they lock us in a room for almost a week. And they think we are going to listen to some lame ass boom box right outta the 70s or 80s or whatever. No fucking way.”

Despite the swearing, the voices clearly belonged to children. The slightly lower pitch meant we would soon be meeting two young boys, or perhaps older girls.

Ashley said, “Apparently, we’re still on the show. Just not how we were originally cast. I’m guessing those two are our co-stars.”

I shot back, “I don’t want to be on the show like this! It’s so embarrassing! There’s no way I’m agreeing to anything. I was supposed to be Mr. Grant.”

Ashley raised a brow, “What happened to what we talked about? Just play it cool, Ryan. Go along with it for now. We’ll get more information that way. Plus, no one knows who you are. Anyone watching the show will just see Kaylee.”

Two boys turned the corner past the classroom sound stage. As they approached, I could see that both were taller than me, but only one reached Ashley’s height. The taller one was African American with a thick mop of short-cropped hair. The other was Caucasian, with a shaggy head of blonde curls. He could have been Kaylee’s brother.

The Caucasian boy said, “Fuck, this shit. I’m going to kill the people who did this to us. Murder them cold! I did not sign up for this. Motherfuckers!” His rant was not remotely frightening. He sounded like his mother had taken away his TV privileges for the night.

The African American boy said, “I hear you, Mark. I want a piece of that creepy ass doctor who gave us the shot in the first place.” He looked to Ashley and me, “From the looks on your faces, he did the same to you.”

Ashley nodded, “Yeah. Well it’s obvious what’s going on here. And now that I think about it, I mean- it’s crazy but it makes sense. To someone who is completely crazy.”

Mark said, “What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? Get to the point.”

Ashley glared at Mark, “And nice to meet you too. Is that how you talk to your mommy?”

Mark said, “I’ll talk to you anyway I want, you fucking bitch. Me and Devon, we’ve been here for a week, getting these goddamn raps from a boom box. Eating fucking sandwiches all day long. I don’t care why they did this shit to us. We’ve just gotta get ‘em to stop, turn us back, so I can ram those needles they gave us into their dicks or pussies or whatever.”

Ashley sighed, “I don’t know where to begin with that. Let’s start with this though- these people turned us into children. I don’t think they are going to be threatened by us. I’d say they have all the cards. Me and Ryan- we’re going to listen to what they want, play along for now.”

Mark looked at me and burst out laughing, “Fuck, and I thought I had it bad! This poor motherfucker’s lost his dick.” He pulled my shirt, “You like dressing like that? Man, you know there’s a fucking butterfly on your shirt? You playing house with miss fucking peace and love here?”

I opened my mouth to interject, but Ashley, who was taking the lead more and more, beat me to the punch, “Look, asshole, I don’t know who you were before this but we’re in real danger here. You may have been some no-neck bro-dude muscular giant, but all I can see is a little blonde boy who is trying to wear pants that don’t fit anymore.”

Her young face hardened further, as adult rage was thrust upon the delicate features. “And don’t pick on Ryan! He’s been through a lot. The worst thing we can do is fight amongst ourselves.”

I glared at Ashley, “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Ashley. I can kick the shit out of this little prick.” I adopted a fighting stance and raised my fists, as I had done hundreds of times before. Until I had grown into my body, I was a lanky teenager with disproportionately massive feet, and a really big mouth. Thankfully, my dad’s training had given me the knowledge, and my many school yard battles gave me the experience. I often tried to joke my way out of situations, but when that failed, my fists answered the call.

I had been emasculated by Ashley and Mark, and I needed to reassert who I was. When Greg pissed me off about Jessica, I struck him, and he knew his place after that. He knew he had crossed the line. Mark had crossed a similar line. Remembering my dad’s words, I proceeded to flatten my hand. Then, I tucked four fingers into the crease of my hand. My slightly pointed nails pressed firmly into my palm, and then I tucked my thumb into position, underneath the joint.

My little hand formed into a proper fist, and I aimed an uppercut at Mark’s jaw, the exact same move I used on Greg. I knew that I had to strike him with my knuckles, but I watched in horror as the fist merely glanced his jaw. Like the letters, I knew how to form the fist, but my body, again failed to cooperate. Mark took a step backward, and then a wide grin formed on his face. I could see that he was missing three of his front teeth, unfortunately, it wasn’t my doing.

“What the fuck, man? That was pathetic. You hit like a fucking girl, that’s for sure!” The already mocking grin widened on the boy’s face, “Are you- are you about to cry?” The memory of my humiliation at the hands of the Beverly Hills power couple was still a searing, bubbling puss-filled wound, and my failure to properly strike Mark had poured an entire shaker worth of salt on it.

Again, I felt my tear ducts begin to fill, a massive lump grow in my throat, but this time, joining my humiliation was a trembling treacherous lip. My face grew hot from embarrassment, and like the first time in front of Ashley, my hands instinctively flew to my face to cover the evidence.

“Fuck, they did a number on you. Or were you a homo or something before, did you like dressing that way? You wear your momma’s heels?”

Ashley stepped up and got in Mark’s face, while I felt red-hot tears dribble down my face. I kept my hands covering my face, but it was obvious what was happening. Devon, the African American boy, said, “Hey guys, I think I hear something.”

I heard the grinding of metal, and then a sound similar to a hydraulic lift. I traced the sound to the control room elevator. It was slowly descending.

I sniffed gently, and Ashley put her arm around me like a big sister trying comfort her weepy-eyed baby sister. Shit. Is that how she saw me? I looked at Mark and the other boy, and seeing their disapproval, I quickly slipped out of her grasp.

Eventually, the elevator door slid open, and what I saw made me very slowly move behind Ashley. I did it gradually, hoping that neither boy saw my actions, but I was forced to peek out from behind the taller girl. Before us, standing on two legs was a bright orange hippopotamus. I couldn’t understand the irrational fear I felt in the creature’s presence, but the fact that I only came up to its navel, likely supported my lack of bravery. It was the first time, I realized just how small I was.

The hippo probably wasn’t even that tall, but to me, it was a giant. I actually had to crane my neck upward to take in the creature’s entire face, which was beaming with a bright, joy-filled smile. It lacked teeth, except for two large buck teeth found at the far side of its mouth. A static reddish tongue remained fixed in position, although as I peered closer, I could see a small voice box protruding from the back of the thing’s throat. Meanwhile, the creature’s orange snout featured large cartoonish nostrils, which emitted rainbow coloured smoke that smelled like strawberries.

The hippo’s body, as expected, was bulbous, but it had a huggable quality, like Santa Claus. While some might have believed this, I did not. I was frankly terrified of its very presence. The hippo wore no clothing, and thankfully, wasn’t anatomically correct. Finally, peering down at us was a pair of massive unblinking eyes. Like the eternal smile, the eyes too attempted to display a joyful spirit, but for me- it was nothing like that.

The creature would have been comforting to most, almost like a life-sized stuffed animal, but it might as well have been a terrifying creature built from the nightmares of a million children. I knew this was likely one of our captors, so my fear was well placed, but as I took a survey of the expressions of the others, I was irritated when I saw only Mark showing a measure of fear. Ashley stood steadfast, while Devon did the same. Why did I have to be such a coward?

“Hiiiiiiii boys and girls! I’m Hermieeeeee! You must be Madison, Kaylee, Louis and Sebastian! I’m so haaaaapppppppy to meet yoooooooou!” The hippo spoke as if he were speaking to children, with an exaggerated patronizing intonation. I expected that it was to get the attention of children, but the tone of voice just filled my tiny frame with rage. I wondered if real kids would find Hermie’s voice equally annoying.

Devon said, “Yeah? Well the feeling isn’t mutual, you fucker.”

Hermie reached out a rubber arm toward Devon, gently chiding him with a fat sausage-like finger. “That’s naughty language, Louis. Once I yell “Action!” and the cameras roll, you will need to clean up your mouth, young man.”

The hippo did an awkward pirouette and then struck a gallant pose, with its head pointed toward the bright studio lights and one finger raised to the sky. “You’re so lucky to be on my show, boys and girls! We’re going to learn so much, and we’re going to teach children around the world how to be nice, how to share, and most of all, how to have FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Like a warm hug from your mommy or daddy!”

Ashley said, “Listen, we’ll do as you say, but I want to contact my friends and family. I want them to know I’m OK.”

Hermie replied, “But Madison, all your friends are here! Silly girl, they know exactly where you are! Look there’s Louis, Sebastian and Kaylee. And me too! We’re all really good friends. As for your family, well they’ll get to see you on TV! How lucky for them! Right?”

Mark turned to Ashley, “This motherfucker is crazy as shit. There’s no reasoning with him or anyone else in here.”

The hippo’s outstretched finger chided Mark, “Sebastian, I’m sorry but that language isn’t nice. You need to learn that it hurts you and others when you say words like that. You may have heard your parents say it or maybe your older brother or sister, but everyone knows that it’s wrong. So here’s what I want you to do. Feel down deep inside you and pull out all your anger. All the things that make you mad or sad, and when you feel it coming out, like a bubbling silly pot, you say OOPSIES!”

Mark stared at the creature incredulously, despite this, Hermie continued, “You’ll realize that you can be so much happier if you don’t say bad words. Because everyone around you is smiling! And then, you realize, so are you!”

Ashley furrowed her brow, “I’m really not sure that’s good advice. Kids should learn to verbalize what is bothering them. They shouldn’t just forget it with a silly catch phrase. Won’t those same things continue bothering them?” I could hear what sounded like another voice from Hermie’s head, but it was garbled.

Hermie, and his eternal smile, peered down at Ashley. “But it’s nice to just forget your problems. Wouldn’t it be nice, Madison, if all those bad thoughts just went away? Like magic? Annnnnd poof! Gone! Wouldn’t that be wonderful to know you’ll never have to deal with them again? I bet if you try what I suggest, you’ll be smiling soon after! You’ve must have a problem you want to just poof away, right?” Ashley shook her head in complete disagreement.

Devon said, “Look, I’m with Mark. This is fucked up beyond belief. Let’s just ignore this thing and look for a way out of here.”

Hermie said jovially, while tilting its head from side to side. “Little one, I see you hiding there behind Madison! Please don’t be scared of me though! I’m your friend. You can trust me.” My eyes widened as the lumbering hippo approached me.

I glared and shouted petulantly, “I’m not scared, and I wasn’t hiding! And I sure as hell am not going to trust a dude in a rubber hippo suit.” I looked at Devon and Mark and nodded, “I’m with them. We should look for a way out of here.”

Hermie reached out his hand to me, “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m not a stranger! You should never, ever talk to strangers though. They might take you away from your mommy and daddy! And some of them will want to hurt you. I don’t want that to happen to any of my friends, so please, it’s very important to say if one approaches you, “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.” Can you repeat that boys and girls?”

Three of us shook our heads, while Ashley remained neutral, yet clearly conflicted. No one said a word. Ashley tried to establish eye contact with me, but I looked away.

Hermie said, “OK, I can tell my friends have a lot of mad, sad and bad feelings in their tummies today. We’ll keep our visit short. On the table, you’ll find the most important things in the world, more important than a treasure map, or the plans to build a super special rocket- no, on the table, are the scripts for our first five shows! I know my friends are all super smart, and they’ll get all the lines stuck in their head like gooey, chewy peanut butter. Right?”

The question was posed, but no verbal response came. Mark lifted one of the small chairs from the table and proceeded to strike Hermie in the shin. The action alone was not enough to topple the creature, but whoever was inside the suit yelped in pain. For a moment, Hermie looked unsteady as the thick tree-trunk legs teetered. Another chair shot from Devon sent the beast staggering, while a follow up from Mark caused it to fall to one knee.

Ashley shouted, “Guys! Guys! This is probably a really bad idea!”

Instead of heeding Ashley’s advice, I quickly left the sidelines and picked up a chair myself. It was unwieldy, swaying, in the opposite direction of my target. Hermie lifted his arms to block the ongoing chair shots, managing to pry the weapon from Devon, but a blow directly to the head from Mark caused the hippo to splay forward. I had still not managed to land a blow, finding it extremely difficult to handle the chair. Why were the boys having an easier time? It took a few moments, but I managed to figure out how to swing the chair properly. As I lifted the chair up over my head, preparing to strike Hermie, I felt it being roughly pulled from my hands.

Ashley shouted, “Ryan! Why won’t you listen to me? I told you that this is probably not a good idea. They aren’t going to go to all this trouble and just let us walk out the door after you three beat up some guy in a suit!” Mark and Devon looked at me expectantly. There was no way I was going to act like a pussy in front of them.

Despite my lack of weapon, I ran over to the fallen hippo and proceeded to kick the creature in the head. I assumed that the rubber suit would absorb some of the impact from the blows, but it would probably still hurt like hell. After a minute or so of what looked like a vicious gang-style beating from three elementary school students, Mark left our victim and picked up one of the scripts from the table.

He lifted it over his head and tore the first few pages. Devon followed suit, and despite the extreme disappointment painted on Ashley’s face, I joined in the melee. Eventually, bits of torn paper littered the studio floor as the three of us gleefully ruined the scripts. Hermie struggled to its feet, having difficulty with the ungainly legs attached the ridiculous costume. It took a few moments of struggling, mostly in the form of awkward rolling, but Hermie finally returned to two feet.

It shook the giant smiling hippo head sadly but said nothing.

I heard a dull scraping sound, like someone rubbing two rusty knives together. This was followed by the thrumming of a constant flow of water, tumbling down into a metal basin in thin droplets. Fear crept into my mind removing my bravery like a vicious wind extinguishing a proud flame. I looked at the assembled ‘children’ before me, and saw instant terror.

I dropped the remains of my script, while Ashley held hers tightly to her chest, still untouched- pristine.

Hermie said simply, “Run, boys and girls! Back to your rooms!”

I wanted to run, but I stood paralyzed by fear. Ashley reached out and took my hand, pulling me toward the safety of our room. I gripped her hand and never looked back.

Designer Children

Love the speculation as always and the comments. Thanks to all as always for reading. Hopefully you are enjoying it. Should I post these more often than twice a week? The earlier chapters are somewhat shorter.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 6

“What the hell was that, Ryan?”

We had managed to return to our shared living space. I fiercely extricated myself from Ashley’s firm grip and glared in response to her question.

“I thought we had a plan! We were going to listen to them. Learn what we could, and maybe be able to use it against them. At the very least, we could have negotiated with them to let us contact our families. To let them know that we are OK.” Ashley crossed her arms underneath her non-existent breasts and slowly shook her head.

I said, “I don’t give a fuck about my family.”

Ashley sighed, “Yeah, well I’m not in love with mine either, but they still deserve to know we aren’t dead.”

I said nothing, but Ashley persisted, buzzing around me like a gnat that hovers just above your ear drum. “Ryan, what you and the other boys did was extremely stupid. You have no idea what the consequences of your actions are going to be.”

I replied with a sneer, my little nose wrinkling in the process, “How could it be worse than this?” I motioned to myself. I added, “We’ve got to fight them to keep who we are. That’s the only way.”

Ashley returned my sneer with one of her own, “This is what pisses me off about you, Ryan. You think that what you’ve been given is a death sentence. Like being a girl is this horrible flesh-eating disease or something. That it will eat away at what you are. I see how you look at yourself, and yeah it’s an awful thing to have happen to you, losing your body. But worst of all you act like being a girl is worse- inferior to what you were.”

I narrowed my eyes and poked Ashley firmly in the chest, “It is. Have you seen how I throw, and how I couldn’t lift that goddamn chair properly? That ridiculous punch that I threw? Have you seen how I fucking cry? This is going to eat away at me. I can already feel it.”

Instead of reacting angrily, Ashley looked at me calmly, and smiled condescendingly, “You have no idea how unbelievably stupid you sound. And uninformed.”

I glared at her, feeling the anger bubbling within, molten lava ready to spew obscenities. I said with bared teeth, “I’m not stupid.”

Ashley, still with a tiny knowing smile, said, “OK, maybe not stupid, but definitely ignorant. All those things you mention will get better with time, and while I want to hit Musica with a hammer, she’s right. Practice makes perfect. According to this script,” she turned to the first page and handed it to me, “you are six years old. You can’t expect a six year old girl to box like Mike Tyson, or to be able to control her emotions when faced with serious trauma. Or to be able to throw very well. It’s pretty obvious that these bodies have no muscle memory. I know how to write, but because this hand never formed an ‘S’, I can’t do it until I’ve practiced, until I create the muscle memory.”

She sighed lightly, “Girls can do all the things you’ve described. Can they do them better than men? Some can. Most can’t, but they can still do those things.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “Come on, Ashley, don’t be ridiculous. Not that I ever would, but I could easily take a woman boxer. And every girl I’ve ever known really sucked at throwing a ball. Like they literally threw like girls. We always laughed at them.”

Ashley shook her head, “Great. Well that probably worked wonders for their self-esteem. They probably never practiced. And as for your assertion? Like most of what you say, it’s complete bullshit. Have you ever heard of Jennie Finch? She’s a softball pitcher, and probably the best in the world. She managed to strike out not one but four major league baseball players. Including Mr. Steroids Barry Bonds. Oh and none of them even touched the ball, except for Barry- but he hit it foul.”

I said, “So what’s your fucking point? I can be a softball pitcher?”

Ashley pursed her lips, “Stop thinking like you can’t do things just because you are in that body. It could really be the difference, Ryan. If you don’t gain any confidence in what you can do, you’ll probably be trapped like that forever. Stop thinking poor me and acting like you have something to prove, especially with those two idiots.”

Ashley’s words managed to pierce to stubborn core, but I wasn’t wholly convinced. “What do you mean?”

Ashley replied calmly but firmly, “You were engaging in a manly pissing contest with those two to see which one of you could be the biggest macho idiot.”

I shook my head, “You just don’t get it. We had to do that, to show we are still the same. To show we aren’t scared. And me too, especially, I had to show that I’m not going to be this frightened little girl.”

Ashley frowned, “But you guys acted like a bunch of kids. Don’t you see that? By engaging in that behaviour with those two, you might be pushing yourself in that direction. Do you really think you would have acted that way if you were still in your adult body?”

I nodded, “Fucking right. There’s no way I’d let them hold me like that. But it’s fight or flee. Well I didn’t see any exits there.”

Ashley replied matter-of-factly, “Fight or flight. And if you’d actually read the script, you’d know that there will likely be consequences for your actions.” She narrowed her eyes, “And no, I don’t know how it could be worse than what’s happened to you already. But it’s a threat. ”

She added, “Maybe they’ll turn you into a real little girl. Then you’ll stop caring completely and just be this cute little line-spewing robot.”

I shouted, “No way! What’s the point of that? I mean they let us keep our memories for a reason, right?”

Ashley nodded, “True, but that’s not to say they won’t do it if you force their hand. It’s obvious they want us to act on this show. They probably let us keep our memories because we are trained actors. We can actually peddle the slop they are passing off as life lessons.”

I watched Ashley with a measure of suspicion, “I still don’t understand why you care so much about helping me. If they brainwash me, doesn’t that make me easier to get along with? Plus, I thought you hated me. You seem to hate Devon and Mark too. Why would you want to help us?”

I was beginning to learn how to push Ashley’s buttons, and her status as a man-hating bitch was clearly a sore point. She said through clenched teeth, “I didn’t say I wanted to help them, especially Mark. I already told you, you and me, we’re in this together.” Her expression softened, “We need each other. But we need to trust each other too.”

I said, “I don’t like you bossing me around. And that shit you pulled in front of Mark and Devon was not cool. It was embarrassing. I’m not your little sister, Ashley.”

I saw amusement leap into Ashley’s eyes. It was a tiny spark of joy that had no place amongst her serious expression. Her lips tight, she gently cleared her throat, “You actually are. For the show- Madison and Kaylee are sisters.” She pointed at the character descriptions in the script, “See here.”

I looked down with trepidation, slowly reading in my head, “Kaylee, six years old, Madison’s little sister. Naturally timid, Kaylee often looks to her big sister for comfort and support. The youngest of the four, she looks up to Madison (8 years old) with respect and admiration, and a measure of jealousy, as big sis can do so much more! Kaylee also has the wildest imagination, often letting her mind create fearful images. When faced with these images, she might find herself hiding behind her much braver sister.”

Desperately trying to ignore the fact that I had acted exactly like Kaylee’s descriptor when first meeting Hermie, I said, “But that doesn’t mean you have to act like that all the time. Especially in front of the others. I don’t want to be treated that way.”

The amusement never left her eyes as she spoke, “I’m not trying to emasculate you, Ryan. I could see that you were really hurt by what Mark said, and I was just trying to make you feel better. But why do you care so much what those guys think of you?”

I glared at Ashley, “What’s with you? Do you find this funny? I don’t think it’s funny that I have to act like your little sister, even if it’s just for a stupid show.”

Ashley replied, “I always wanted a little sister. I used to pretend that my favourite doll was my baby sister. I’d feed her and change her. Play games with her. I guess it just got me thinking back to a time when things didn’t really suck between my parents. Look, I’ll do my best not to embarrass you, Ryan. But I want to know, why do you care so much what those guys think?”

I replied, “So you don’t care what other girls think about you? About what you wear or how you do your hair or whatever? Every girl I’ve ever dated was obsessed with that. Those guys are judging me the same way, but in how I act, especially since I look like this. If they still consider that I’m a man in this body, then I know I’m doing OK.”

Ashley sighed gently, “I’ll admit that girls do it too, even me sometimes. Yeah, I will look at another girl and think, well she shouldn’t wear that because it’s not flattering. But I don’t make that part of who I am. And as for what you said, there’s no right way to be a man, Ryan. But I can tell you that filth like Mark aren’t the litmus test for how a man should act. He talks a big game, but I bet he goes home with his hand. Unless he’s paying for it.”

She continued, “From what I’ve seen, you’ve actually got a chance to be a decent guy, despite how we initially met. Mark has no chance. He’s given up on that, probably suffered abuse and given his fair share too. If you’ve impressed him, then you’re probably doing something wrong- something that could force the hand of the people who did this to us.”

I asked, “How can I be sure that I’m not going to start acting like Kaylee though? I mean it’s already kind of happening. What will stop it other than really fighting against what they’ve done to us?”

Ashley said softly, “I’m not really sure. I feel it too. Every time I sit down and eat a sandwich or drink from a juice box or play with a doll. I feel like I’m losing that adult side of myself. It seems crazy that something so simple could do it, but it makes me smile to myself. I think back to that time, when things were good.”

She continued, “I think it’s really about two things. We need to act like adults but appear like children superficially. That means being smart about how we do things, not acting on impulse. We have to think things through and really consider the consequences. And for you, it’s finding the balance between being like Mark and being like Kaylee. And maybe being a little less Ryan too.”

I raised a brow and blurted, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ashley smirked, “You do remember how we met, right?”

***

Ashley spit her toothpaste in the sink, and then I stepped up to the mirror. I peered at the little girl who looked nothing like Ryan Sullivan. I stared at her perfect white teeth, the lightly tanned skin and the deep, piercing blue eyes, and realized that my previous physical identity had been erased entirely. The darkened tooth was gone, and while I didn’t miss it, it would have at least told the world that a piece of my old self still existed.

Ashley said, “It’s weird, you don’t look anything like Ryan. Was your mom a blonde?”

I glared at the mirror, my lips forming a tiny pout, while my previously non-existent chin jutted forward. “No.” I spit in the sink and then wiped my mouth.

Ashley frowned, “What’s up with you, Ryan?”

I said, “I’m just worried, you know like you said, if they do something to my head. I’m just worried people won’t remember me.”

Ashley said, “Well your family will remember you. That’s why I really think that if we listen to them this time around, maybe they’ll at least send a message telling them we are OK.”

I replied, “I told you, my family won’t give a shit. I haven’t talked to my mom in like two years. And my dad is dead.”

Ashley frowned deeply. It was bizarre to see such sadness, and a remarkable empathy on such a young face. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I know how that is, I lost my mom last year. We were really close. Were you close to your dad?”

I nodded, “Yeah. My dad was the only one who could control me. I just had so much respect for him. As stupid or as gay as this sounds, he was my hero. He saved so many lives. What he did really mattered.”

Ashley nodded, “And what did he do?”

I replied proudly, “He disarmed improvised explosive devices, and he taught hundreds of others how to do it safely too. A lot of people say we didn’t belong in those countries, and that we just made it worse, but at least I can say that my dad was making it safer. My dad told me a story once about one that went off in a mall in Sarajevo. It was a nasty one too, lots of people killed, even some children. He didn’t get to it in time, and it haunted him.”

Ashley listened intently as I continued, “He believed so strongly that he was not only serving his country, but that he was risking his life for the people of those countries. He told me, we made a mess there, I’m cleaning it up. He never questioned anything, just did his job.”

Ashley smiled, “I can see why you would want to look up to someone like your dad.” Her mouth tightened, however, as she asked, “What about your mom though? Wasn’t she worried about him? I mean I could never be an army wife. I’d always worry my husband would come home in a body bag or something, and especially if your dad was disarming bombs. I couldn’t stand it. I think your mom must be an amazing woman to get through all that. It must have been so hard on her. I mean especially when your dad died.”

I looked at Ashley in disgusted disbelief, “My mom was awful. Just really, a terrible mom. You couldn’t be more wrong. She always cried so much. I could never respect her for that. I wasn’t crying. I knew how important my dad’s job was, even as a kid.”

Ashley shook her head gently, “Try and look at it from your mom’s point of view. Wouldn’t you be sad if the person you loved was gone, and possibly in grave danger?”

I said matter-of-factly, “It is part of the promise. My mom just couldn’t handle it. My dad himself said that my mom never really got used to being an army wife. But she should have, and as far as I see it, she had no right to complain. She knew what she was signing up for.”

I couldn't help a tiny sneer, “I know my mom was hard on me because she was pissed at my dad for being gone so often. She hated me. I hated her. It’s pretty simple.”

Musica chimed, “Time for bed my sweet girls, tomorrow with Hermie, you’ll explore a hundred wonderful worlds!”

Ashley frowned deeply, “You have no idea how sad that is, Ryan. I’m sure you weren’t exactly an angel when your dad was gone. It doesn’t sound like you had a lot of respect for your mom…which kind of explains in general how you treated women.”

I glared at Ashley and exited the bathroom. She, of course, followed me out and continued the conversation, “Silence means it’s true.”

I shouted, “What are you? My fucking therapist? You are such a know-it-all. How the hell do you know all this stuff, about the softball, the muscle memory, and what would you know about army wives and their kids?

Ashley replied calmly, “Well, I went to school. I took theatre as a major, but I minored in psychology, and I took a handful of human kinetics courses. As for your last question, well it’s a hunch, but I’m thinking your mom didn’t hate you. She just found you challenging.”

I replied, “Are you aware that your education has made you a goddamn annoying know-it-all bitch? Quit talking about this like you are an expert. You have no way of knowing what I or my mom was going through at the time.”

Ashley sighed lightly, “I just listened to you tell this really nice story about your dad, how much you respected and admired him. Then I find out that someone who doesn’t treat women well or think very highly of them had issues with his mother. This isn’t exactly a fifty year old cold case, Ryan. It’s pretty easy to see it.”

I said, “My mom was weak. She couldn’t handle the life she chose. Why should I respect someone who didn’t want me? She hated when my dad went away because it meant she’d have to be my fucking mother again. When my dad was home, she was barely there- always playing cards at the neighbours.” I was becoming emotional, and once again, I could feel that lump form in my throat.

Ashley attempted to put her hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. She said, “It’s OK to feel angry about this. And it’s fine to let your emotions out. You might even feel better.”

I shook my head angrily and hopped into bed, quickly wiping my eyes, “I won’t, because then, I’ll be just like her.” I heard the clock on the wall strike the hour, and the lights immediately died. I heard Ashley fumbling for something behind the night stand.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ashley replied, “I’m plugging in the night light.”

I shot back, “Why are you doing that? You can’t take the dark?”

Ashley said, “I slept like shit last night because I was really scared. I need to be awake and really aware when we meet Hermie again tomorrow. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”

I replied, “Fine. But that really sounds like something an eight year old girl would need. Not a grown woman.”

Ashley practically growled, “Are you really doing this? After what we discussed about sticking together? I was just trying to help you try and understand your mom a bit better that’s all. There’s no need to bite my head off or to resort to a cheap shot.”

Ashley clambered into the top bunk and didn’t say another word. Meanwhile, I shut my eyes tightly, desperately hoping that what I saw in the dark the night before was gone.

***

“Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day!”

I slowly climbed out of bed, and as I did, I heard a distinct groaning from the top bunk. I craned my head to see a disheveled and exhausted looking Ashley. Dark circles had formed underneath her eyes. She stared off into a void, not seeing me, just looking looked at the wall. To me, this was her opportunity to combat a weakness. I had managed to fall asleep, despite the persistent feeling that the dark was alive, a living breathing horror that descended on us every night.

I said, “Good job last night. See? You don’t need that kiddie light at all.”

Ashley continued to stare through me, she attempted to return her head to the pillow but Musica chimed, “Sleepy head, rise out of bed, greet the day, and say hooray! Smiles and laughs with all your friends, learning and fun, adventure and play, please don’t sleep away the day! Please join me, Kaylee!”

I replied, “I’m not singing that stupid song. Just let her sleep a bit more if she’s tired.”

Musica sung, “Kaylee, open your heart, and let joy inside, Madison won’t make a peep while she’s trying to sleep, so come along for the ride, because you’ll find two is more fun than one!”

I shook my head and walked over to the kitchen, quickly pouring myself a bowl of cereal. I noticed that the fridge had been completely restocked. When Ashley and I returned to the room yesterday after meeting Hermie, there was hardly anything in the fridge, but now, it was full of sandwiches, fresh milk and orange juice. I went to the cupboards, and I could see the pudding was restocked too. My eyes lit up, even as my cereal grew soggy. On the second shelf were boxes of Teddy Grahams, but just behind them, the best thing a kid could ever eat- cookies that came with their own dip, a melange of vanilla, chocolate frosting with multi-coloured sprinkles.

My cereal forgotten, I pulled down a box of what are known as Dunkaroos. The package featured a cartoon kangaroo surfing over an explosion of frosting and sprinkles. I tore open the package with little thought as to my actions.

Musica, who had been unsuccessful in waking Ashley, moved toward me. Like Hermie, a stern look could never mar her eternal smile, but she still chided me for my actions, “Kaylee, that’s not part of a balanced breakfast, have some juice, milk or toast, now young lady, you’ll not get a pass, and I’ll hear none of your sass!”

Despite Musica’s insistence, I was still able to completely ignore her. She held absolutely no power over me, and even better, there were no consequences for my actions. Still as my cookie and frosting-related euphoria wore off, my adult mind, with its ability to make firm connections began to worry. Someone had been in our room last night. That same someone refilled the fridge and stocked the shelves.

Musica sung, “If you want to be healthy and strong, eat a balanced breakfast and you can never go wrong! Breakfast the most important meal of the day, gives you energy to kick start your daaaaaaayyyyy!”

I put my hands over my ears and said, “Shut the fuck up, Musica. You’re so annoying. And that rhyme sucked.”

Musica chimed, “Remember what Hermie said, if you’re feeling mad or sad, don’t say a bad word, just stomp on your feelings like a big mud puddle, then you’ll be glaaaaaaaaad!”

I replied, singing mockingly, “Here’s a song for you. If I had a hammer, I’d smash then bash, your fucking face, then I wouldn’t have to listen to you yammer!” I knew that my rhyme was terrible, but that wasn’t the point.

Musica said sadly, “I’m sorry, Kaylee, but I’ll have to take your free play away again today.”

I shook my head, “Why the hell would I want to play with a bunch of dolls? Or ponies or play dress up. I don’t care about free play. I’ll just use the Gameboy.” Musica never stopped me from using the Gameboy. The thing didn’t have any arms or legs, but it did possess a grating Disneyesque singing voice.

“Because you just love, love, love brushing Zoe’s long golden hair. You’re missing out, little sister.”

I turned around to see a smirking Ashley, still looking exhausted, but at least more lively than the barely functioning human being she was when first waking up, “Now we’re even from last night, Ryan. Uh. Are you eating cookies for breakfast?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah. So what?”

Ashley said firmly, “Well this is the same thing as the night light. It is fear based for me, but it’s impulse control for you. If you can’t control yourself, then you are surrendering to Kaylee. Considering how easily you struck out at Mark yesterday, you are really going to have to watch that.”

I said, “That’s not the same thing. You shouldn’t be scared of the dark at your age. And I can control myself. I mean it’s not like I opened another package or something.”

Ashley shook her head, “It’s the exact same thing, Ryan. And if you can’t see that, then you’re in trouble.”

Still, I was unconvinced, “Needing the night light shows a weakness, Ashley. It means you aren’t acting like an adult.”

Ashley sighed heavily. Her frustration was apparent, and I had to admit, I was also bothered by her attitude. The fact that she had gone to college didn’t help either. I bore both jealousy toward her for this and anger at what I felt was her educated yet patronizing tone.

Ashley replied with that same tone, “It is. Look, the ability to stop ourselves from acting on our base instincts and desires is what defines us as adults. Some more than others. It’s pretty obvious that this entire room is a trap, meant to regress us. What was going through your head when you decided to eat cookies for breakfast?”

I said, “Well I saw them, took them down and started eating them. What’s the big deal?”

As I thought back to it, nothing in my head questioned my actions, there was no internal system or gatekeeper stopping me from dunking the cookies into the frosting. Yes, I ate cold pizza for breakfast at times, especially after a really hard night of partying or an extended session at Monique’s before recharging my batteries, but now, well I had eaten dessert for breakfast without thinking.

Ashley nodded, “The big problem is that is exactly what a kid Kaylee’s age would do. We’ve got relatively free rein in here. Musica tells us what to do, but we don’t actually have to listen to her. She can repeat herself over and over again, but there are no consequences. We are the only ones policing our actions.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Are you saying I’m weak because I ate some cookies for breakfast? Fuck, you make such a big deal out of everything.”

Ashley shook her head, “No, I’m not saying that. Just forget it. Did you read the script?”

I said nonchalantly, “Yeah, I skimmed it.”

Ashley sighed, the same frustrated sigh that was now very familiar to me. “We are supposed to know our lines. Maybe we should run some scenes.”

I shook my head, “No way am I saying those lines more than once. I know the lines, don’t worry about it.”

Ashley said, “Our families deserve to know that we are alive. I have no idea how long it’s been. We could have been out for weeks or months while they changed us. There might be police looking for us.”

I said, “What makes you think they’ll let us talk to our families? I don’t care about my mom, and she doesn’t care about me. She doesn’t even have my cell number. There’s only two people who are probably worried about me. Maybe only one.”

I thought about my complete lack of long-term friendships, and while the missing contact should have bothered me, it didn’t. It just made it easier to leave. Unfortunately, now, I was in a position where I had no choice- there was no running from this. I knew I would have to learn to get along with Ashley, if we were to have a hope of escaping.

Ashley said sternly, “Stop thinking about yourself for a minute and consider that someone else might want to contact their family or their friends. And if you can get it through that thick titanium-plated skull, just maybe you’d understand that there are going to be consequences for disobeying. You are so aggravating! Just-”

I interrupted, “Do exactly what you want and shut up about it? Is that what you told all your previous boyfriends?”

Ashley shook her head, “I know your type, Ryan. You aren’t going to be able to do your half-ass joking routine to get out of this. We are their prisoners. I’m not sure if that’s dawned on you yet. If we don’t start doing what they want, well they are probably going to find a way to make us follow their orders.”

Musica chimed, “Lights! Sound! Action! It’s time for my sweet girls to get in costume!” Musica glided toward the superstar makeover closet. Waiting for us, along with the record player, was a pink dress and a pair of jeans with a purple and yellow-striped sweater.

I said, “I call the jeans and that sweater.”

Ashley said in an exasperated tone, “You didn’t read the script, at all did you? Kaylee’s supposed to be wearing the pink dress.”

I replied, “I told you that I skimmed it. There is no chance in hell that I am wearing that though. I’ll just wear the same things as yesterday.”

Ashley emitted a low growl that I was also familiar with- she sounded like a cornered feline. “OK. You know what? Wear whatever you want, Ryan. I’m tired of trying to be your friend in this. You aren’t respecting what I have to say or my opinion. You are going to do your own thing. That’s fine. Just don’t blame me when it blows up in your face. I don’t want any part of the train wreck.”

I sighed, clearing my throat gently, “The other guys, you have no idea how much they will laugh at me. I know I don’t look like it, but they will still see a dude in a dress. And I did read the script. I always skim them. I like to adlib.”

Ashley’s expression softened, “Remember what we talked about yesterday though? You don’t owe those two anything. Don’t let yourself be judged by them.”

I shook my head and pointed at the dress, “That is really easy for you to say. You get to wear clothes you consider normal, just meant for a kid. I mean the panties, OK- still mostly like underwear. But this ridiculous thing. If I wear it, I'll feel like I’m giving up. And Devon and Mark are going to see it the same way.”

Ashley nodded, “OK, so your identity is tied to your clothing, is that it? Everything you are- every last thing is entirely contingent on your clothing. Look, I know it’s going to be embarrassing for you, but if you’re a real man, you can be one wearing a dress.”

She added, “Plus, those two haven’t done a thing to help you through this, Ryan. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve been supportive. I seem to remember Mark calling you gay for wearing a shirt with a butterfly on it. It’s kind of the same thing I’ve been talking about too. Mark is really impulsive and that probably just feeds into what they want from us. Do you really want to go along with a guy who is-”

My eyes rolled back into my head, and I feigned falling over. “OK. OK! I’ll put the stupid dress on. I get it. Mark is an asshole, and I shouldn’t follow his lead because he’s already acting like a kid. Fuck, just get a big neon sign next time.”

Ashley smirked but didn’t say a word.

I pulled the dress from the hangar, staring at it like it was a soiled, ripped pair of underwear. I entered the bathroom quickly as it was still the only place I could dress. Shucking off my pajamas, I pulled the dress overhead, allowing my arms to slip through the straps.

I sighed as I peered at myself in the mirror. The dress was striped, white and neon pink featured throughout, although the pink stripes were thicker. The top of the dress fit like the tank top I used to wear to the gym, but as the white and pink stripes marched in parallel fashion to the bottom, all familiarity ended. Flaring outwards was a skirt. There was no other name for it. There was no material between my legs that would have formed a pair of shorts.

Sadly, it reminded me of a cheerleader's skirt, not because it was short, but because of the way it flared. If I wanted, I could have completed a flourish or a twirl with the skirt, the same as the pyramid-building adolescents.

This would be the ultimate test of my manhood, but perhaps it would also give my acting chops a workout too. If I could, as Ashley suggested, play along, and still retain everything that made me Ryan Sullivan, maybe I could regain my confidence. As much as I hated to admit it, Ashley was at least partially right, my change had sapped my confidence, and it made it almost impossible to mount a concerted defence against the powerful emotions that sought to reduce me to a simpering little girl.

***

It sounded like a hyena who had swallowed a bicycle bump. The constant high-pitched, derisive laughter grated on me, and instinctively, I moved behind Ashley. I almost immediately left the cover of her taller form, but the damage was done. We had returned to the studio and I was beginning to think the dress was a poor idea.

Mark said, “Fuck, man! I’m convinced you were a fucking chick before. Were your parents weird or something, calling a girl Ryan, or were you born with both a dick and a pussy? They really fucked up- they should have raised you as a girl!” The studio provided Mark the perfect spotlight, a single ray shining down on him as he spewed his obscenities.

In response to this, Devon laughed even harder, now adding a pointing finger to his mocking. Mark joined in, and I expected Ashley to intervene but she never did. The spot behind her, away from the insulting and potentially damaging laughter, looked like home. The laughter continued, and again, the tears welled, but still Ashley did nothing.

Mark shook his head, “You are fucking pathetic. Be a goddamn man about this. Come on, hit me like you did yesterday. Show some balls.” He pointed to his cheek. “Hit me right there. As hard as you can.”

While despair descended on me, I also felt a growing anger. It erupted outward as my fist leapt toward Mark’s cheek. It made solid contact, but I hadn’t tucked my thumb in properly. It hurt like hell, pain immediately shooting up and down my hand.

I held my hand as Mark just stared at me, with a shit-eating grin. “That’s better. Look, I know that Ms. Perfect is going to go along with what they want. But look at this.” Devon pulled something from the back pocket of his overalls.

He held a screwdriver in his small hands the same way you might expect a child would hold a prized toy.

Mark said, “This place isn’t hot, and there’s no fans- so I figured there’s gotta be fucking ventilation, right? Well we found one. Since you did such a shit job with Hermie yesterday, you’re volunteering. So if you can crawl in your pretty fucking dress, you might be able to get to a place where you can open a door or something and let us out.”

Devon whispered, “So we figure this- when that stupid fucking hippo comes out. We beat him down again, but this time, we fucking knock him right out. That should give you enough time to get the grate open and climb in the shaft.”

Ashley finally interjected, “What happens next guys? We are let loose on the world as a group of elementary school students? Maybe we got lost on a field trip and some Good Samaritan will call our parents? This plan of yours is really stupid.”

I shook my head, “Not completely. The ventilation shaft will lead to somewhere else. A different room maybe with some clues as to what happened to us. Uh. But maybe you guys can just stall Hermie, instead of beating the shit out of him. And I agree with Ashley, it doesn’t make much sense leaving here looking like this. We have to know how this happened to us to see how we can get back our real bodies.”

Mark said, “Figures that the fucking girls would stick together. Fine, we’ll do it your way. The shaft is behind the school sound stage.”

Ashley looked at me in concern, “Are you sure about this? What if you get caught?”

I pulled Ashley to the side, so I could speak to her privately, “Then I deal with the consequences. Look, I agree that it is stupid to leave looking like this, but if I can find something- anything, that tells us how they did this, then we might be able to figure out how to turn back or someone else will. You know? I feel like we have to try at least. They seem to only let us out to tape the show.”

Ashley was still conflicted, as her bottom lip extended in a slight pout. I couldn’t tell if she meant to make the expression because she looked ridiculous. Maybe it looked far different on her adult self. She sighed gently and nodded. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll stall Hermie as long as I can.”

Like the day before, the studio was empty of people. The lights and the boom mics were all in position, but unlike yesterday, I could actually see cameras set up on the various sound stages. My feet, clad in a pair of ballet flats (also part of my costume), moved quickly to my target. Seconds later, I heard the elevator thrum to life and quickened my pace.

As I passed the classroom sound stage, I felt a shiver travel up my spine. I knew that the outside world would only see Kaylee. I had serious doubts that anyone would believe that Ryan Sullivan still lived within the little blonde-haired girl. Because of that, if somehow we escaped, a return to school was inevitable. I could certainly display my intelligence, the impressive vocabulary, but in the end, I couldn’t even write my name. It took Ashley hours to write a very crude ‘S’. I slipped past the last camera and found the vent that Mark and Devon were talking about.

Thankfully, the Philip’s head screwdriver in my hands matched the screws on the grate blocking the ventilation shaft. The grate lay within a darkened portion of the sound stage, the many studio lights nearby forming vicious shadows that crept within my mind. I set to work quickly, eyeing the dark that lay beyond, a mysterious rolling blackness that threatened to chill my heart and mind, and freeze my limbs in the process.

I heard voices- the overjoyed lilt of the cartoon hippo and the assembled children. I managed to fit the screwdriver into the waiting slot, but it tumbled from my grasp. My heart did not simply beat, it thudded, as if it were trying to escape my chest. I tried again, knowing that I had very little time until Hermie or someone else found me, but again, it fell, clattering loudly to the floor.

Finally, after three tries, I managed to firmly and confidently place the screwdriver in the slot, but only after realizing that I needed a second hand to steady it. My hand shook as I turned the tool, but I was shocked when the screw wouldn’t budge. Even jamming my body against the grate and using it for leverage failed to yield the desired result. I knelt there, the dress pooling around me, desperately trying not to cry.

Fighting the urge, I gripped the screwdriver again, and this time, my entire body shook as I tried to turn the screw. Still it wouldn’t budge.

I heard a voice, projected over loud speakers, “Give it up and join your friends, Kaylee. Hermie is so looking forward to see you!”

It was Ms. Daniels.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Designer Children Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“You’ve got a lot of fucking explaining to do, lady.” Mark, ever his cheerful and charming self, addressed Ms. Daniels with a sneer.

Ms. Daniels replied sweetly, “Little boys shouldn’t say such naughty words. Now, I trust you’ve all learned your lines?”

I took in Ms. Daniels’ form again. She wore a conservative blouse with a skirt that reached just below her knees. Her pert heart-shaped ass was again on full display as she turned around to scold Mark. The bags underneath her eyes were gone, and her skin in general looked smoother. The extra weight around her middle was gone, leaving smooth, clean lines beneath her blouse. Her breasts sat higher, although the blouse concealed any cleavage. She appeared rejuvenated and her eyes seemed to almost dance in their sockets, taking in the entire world- a world she had seemingly created. I felt reassured- I still found her attractive; however, nothing stirred below or anywhere else for that matter.

Unsurprisingly, Mark shouted, “We aren’t playing this fucking sick game of yours. Do you get off on this or something? Watching a bunch of kids play out your fantasy?”

Hermie, who stood next to Ms. Daniels, said, “Sebastian, don’t you see how lucky you are to be on my show? Out of all the little boys and girls in the world- you were picked! Doesn’t that make you feel all warm inside, mmm…I know I feel so happy knowing you are here! You’re a very special boy- you and your friends, Sebastian.”

I had returned to the central meeting area, absolutely defeated. I figured that Ms. Daniels had seen me through the camera, because as I returned, the cameras followed me. I took in the conversation, but did so with the same gusto as fresh road kill. Once again, this body had failed, even with my understanding of the tool and my attempt to use my body as leverage. It was weak, soft and useless.

Mark replied, “Fuck, no! I had a career-”

Ms. Daniels interrupted, “You had nothing. You and thousands of others, had nothing. None of you would have succeeded in this business. You would have continued pursuing something, that shining star- forever out of reach.”

I had a snide line, but with my confidence so thoroughly battered, the words never came. Devon said, “Listen, you bitch! Me and Mark talked. We aren’t doing this. I don’t know why you think we are going to agree to any of this shit. You stole our lives. They weren’t perfect, yeah fine, but we weren’t face to face with a fucking grinning hippo spouting these shit lines. And we weren’t kids!”

Ms. Daniels shook her head, towering over us in her high heels, “I’ve given all of you a second chance at stardom. If you do as I say, you will have the opportunity to reach heights you never thought possible. Those of you who do not follow instructions will face the consequences.”

I managed to squeak out, “But, why- why us? I don’t understand. Why not just use real kids?”

Ashley blurted out the answer, like the know-it-all student who didn’t raise their hand, “Well I suspect it has to do with the new law passed in California. About six months ago, the Fair Work Equal Pay bill for child actors passed unanimously. It’s supposed to protect child actors, putting more pressure on studios to offer a better work life balance to their young actors. It’s also supposed to pay them based on how much the show is making. They can’t be offered a tiny contract and then the show they are in is a multi-national hit. It is also supposed to mean a stricter watch regarding working hours.”

Ms. Daniels beamed, “What would Kaylee do without her smart-as-a-whip big sister? Since you aren’t real kids, I don’t have to pay you a cent. I just have to feed, clothe and house you. It costs about 50K for each of you per year. I’ve run the numbers a few times. Hermie the Hippo will make multi-millions every year. Not only that, but unlike real children, you have years and years of acting experience. You have a knowledge of the business- the procedures, the terminology. It will make shooting far easier. I can also work you, say 12 to 14 hour days. We’ll churn out the first season in two weeks.”

Ashley frowned deeply, “But this is insane! You’re basically saying we are your slaves. Y-You can’t do this! What makes you think you can do this to people? It’s inhumane.”

Ms. Daniels smiled gently, although it was predatory, her eyes flashed, “The four of you were nothing. You are the lowest form of life in this city. You take jobs from those who are willing to work more hours and for less pay- our hard working immigrants from south of the border, and, more importantly, you waste the precious time of studio executives and casting agents. You don’t realize it, but none of you had a chance. Not even remotely.”

She cleared her throat brusquely, “And now, you are wasting my time.”

Ashley said, “I was just waiting for the right role! I had a legitimate chance. My acting professors said that I had real talent. All the productions I was in were successful.”

Ms. Daniels shook her head and peered down at Ashley like she was barely worth her time. “You wasted your looks on roles meant for ugly girls. Virginia Woolf? Really? You would have required extensive makeup. A biography of Marie Curie?” She laughed, a vicious biting laugh. I looked over at Ashley, and her anger had drained away, leaving a frightened child.

Ms. Daniels continued, “You should have been posing for swimsuit calendars or kissing action heroes, but instead, you decided to seek out character and period pieces. But now, you’ve got another chance. I mean if you can avoid the whole child actor syndrome, the drugs and booze, maybe- just maybe you’ll choose right. I could see you in a resurrection of Baywatch. You know it was the most popular show in the world at one time? ”

Ashley took her head in disbelief, “Y-You’re full of shit! The industry doesn’t work that way! It can’t!”

Ms. Daniels reached down and lightly ruffled Ashley’s hair, “It does child, and in fact, it’s much worse than when I first entered the business. Case in point, surely you’ve noticed recently that there have been many, many remakes and a rehashing of old ideas? Robots, turtles, giant lizards. Oh and let’s not forget vampires. Absolute staples. Hollywood is risk adverse and with the economic downturn, even more so- so only the best ideas are chosen and the best actors chosen to fit the roles. It’s all about making as much money as possible. Nothing else.”

Devon shook his head, “Explain Adam Sandler movies then. Really, those are the best fucking ideas?”

Ms. Daniels replied, “In some instances, and this is rare, no matter how bad an idea is- people will still flock to it. Also, you’ll notice that in the films where he deviates from a familiar premise he sees far less success at the box office.” She turned back to Ashley, “My point is the same though, what is tried and true never, ever fails in this business. And you don’t cast a buxom young woman as a scientist of any kind. Audiences won’t believe it.”

Ms. Daniels said firmly, “Children, I’ve said enough. We will be on the bell in a few minutes. I trust you know your lines?”

I knew that on the bell meant shooting. I had paid attention in my acting classes, just not regular school- unless a teacher managed to engage me fully.

Mark walked up to Ms. Daniels, and despite the fact she towered over him, he adopted an aggressive posture, balling his fists and firmly clenching his jaw. “No. Fucking. Way. You can’t force us to shoot this show.” He looked to me and Ashley, “You guys are with me, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as a command. The little boy’s fierce blue eyes radiated power.

Before any of us could answer, Ms. Daniels spoke, “It’s very simple children. You can follow my instructions, or you can be erased from existence.”

Despite Mark’s bravado, even he faltered with Ms. Daniels’ bold statement. Again, I managed to squeak, “You’re going to kill us?”

Ms. Daniels laughed, “No! Heavens no. I could never do that. Not to my little darlings. No, you’ll be regressed further. You should know that in the testing stage of the serum you were given, the adults who were reduced to the toddler stage lost all their memories over a very short period. Usually a few weeks.”

Ashley said, “But that makes no sense! You’d go to all this trouble to change us into children, and then just erase us? It seems counter-productive.”

Ms. Daniels smiled and put her hand on Ashley’s shoulder, “Yes, but there are thousands more struggling actors in this city. All of them with stars in their eyes and willing to take any role, even one on a children’s show.”

She finished, her eyes showing a menacing glimmer, “You see, you can be easily replaced.”

She cleared her throat and looked down at us with a hawk-like glare, as if we were naughty, spoiled children, “I am guessing that only Madison really knows her lines.”

The now younger looking woman shook her head slowly, “I think all of you need to become fully immersed in your characters. You need to become them. That way the lines you speak won’t just be pages in the script, they’ll be natural extensions of your real selves.”

She looked at Mark and Devon, “Sebastian, you and Louis are best friends. But Sebastien can be a big cry baby sometimes, especially when he doesn’t get his way. Louis tends to be the leader of the two with Sebastian relegated to the background.”

A smile formed when she addressed Ashley and me, “You two are doing wonderfully so far, especially you Kaylee. You are getting into the part. Oh, you definitely fight like sisters. But I want to see you two play together. Kaylee, after all, wants to do just about everything her big sister does.”

She walked toward the elevator, “Oh, and call each other by your names! Your real names.”

Her heels clicked on the studio floor, “Your only names.” Hermie stood next to us, shoulders gently slumping. Seconds, later the hippo returned to its mistress.

***

“Are you going to mope all day, Kaylee? Come and play with me. Musica said you can play if you apologize for using those naughty words.”

I was lying face down on my bed, arms at my side, with my nose pressing into my pillow. When I didn’t answer, Ashley approached my bed, she whispered, “You look just like a kid who didn’t get her way. I mean if I could show you what you looked like, I know you wouldn’t be doing that. You have to stop letting it get to you. You’re letting this eat at you, and look what it’s doing- you’re acting more and more like her.”

I narrowed my eyes, which felt heavy in my head. I knew that a flood of tears threatened to escape, but I had so far kept them at bay. “Fuck off, Ashley.”

Ashley frowned, but she didn’t show anger, just disappointment. “Kaylee, you shouldn’t say those words.” She leaned in and whispered, “Ryan, I know this isn’t easy for you, but Ms. Daniels, she’s insane. Just think of Kaylee as a character you are playing, but get into the role without losing yourself. We have to do what she says. We do, Ryan. She’s literally fucking, crazy. I don’t know how she convinced Dr. Travers to work with her. Maybe those psychos are married. Either way, you know what you were saying- about no one remembering you? Well don’t you think it would be worse if you actually forgot who you were? All the memories you have of Ryan Sullivan, that no one else has- your private moments- all of it gone. Do you really want to risk that?”

Musica chimed, “Madison, it’s not polite to tell secrets like that. It’s hardly like you to act like a brat!”

I sighed, “No…but look at the alternative. I never pictured myself in a role like this. Ever. Honestly, even Mr. Grant was kind of a stretch.”

Ashley replied, her eyes twinkling as she did, “You did such a great job in that scene. Even if I was trying to sabotage you, you still pulled the scene off like a pro, Ryan.”

I sniffed, gently rolling over onto my side to face Ashley, “I knew you were trying to fuck up my audition.”

Ashley grinned, “Yup.” Her face grew serious, her features stone-like and her eyes had a powerful intensity. “Now, look- I don’t like this either. I hate the idea that we have to play house for a madwoman, but we do. Because I don’t think she was bluffing. I mean I don’t know what they’d do with a bunch of toddlers, but we’d be erased if she’s telling the truth. I don’t want that for you and me. Mark maybe…”

I said, “We need to start working with the boys though. Like I know you hate Mark, hate him like you want to cut out his tongue- but if we keep fighting, we are playing into Daniels’ hands. We are acting like real kids.”

Ashley looked at me, her eyes widening, and her mouth hanging open slightly. “Right. Yeah, well I’ll see if I can get along with him long enough to avoid castrating him.” Her surprise quickly faded.

Musica chimed, “It’s time for free play! Kaylee, if you apologize and say you’ll never ever, ever, ever say another bad word, you can play with your sister too!”

Ashley peered at Musica and regarded her strangely, “Weird. She didn’t rhyme.”

I realized that Ashley was right, not only about Musica, but about my role as Kaylee, and Ms. Daniels’ lack of sanity. She had engineered a complex multi-layered plot to transform four adults into children, all for the purpose of making buckets and buckets of money. She likely wouldn’t have an issue with making us younger. She seemed to have no morals or ethics whatsoever. I was no angel as a young adult male, but I never enslaved anyone.

I slipped out of bed onto the floor and said with a plastic smile, “I’m sorry for saying those bad words. I won’t say them again.”

Musica shook with excitement as her body moved quickly up and down the tracks repeatedly. “Yay! What a good girl you are Kaylee, you’ll have so much fun at play, you’ll see!”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Ashley looked at me in surprise at first and said, “Do you want to brush Zoe’s hair? Or play Dream Phone?”

I looked at the pink box for the board game, which featured a gaggle of prepubescent girls fawning over a plastic cellular phone, which was about the size of a brick and quickly shook my head. I saw a pink Corvette. The word Barbie was written on it, but it was the only thing I could imagine playing with for longer than ten minutes.

Seeing me pick up the car, Ashley went to a large (for two little girls at least) pink suitcase and quickly undid the latches and revealed an abundance of Barbie dolls in various states of dress and undress. By this point, I had started driving the car around with my hand, and I even threw in some vroom vrooms for effect, figuring that is what a kid Kaylee’s age would do. I sped up, but quickly growing bored of playing on the floor, I decided to have the car drive up the wall. I was pretending the Corvette was a V8, six-speed manual transmission, 345 horsepower monster that could climb walls. I imagined that it was a spy car, something James Bond would use.

I had to admit that it was kind of fun using my imagination. With video games and television filling in all the pictures and sound in my adult life, I didn’t need to make up my own stories, so it was an interesting change to make up my own.

Meanwhile, as I peeked over to see what Ashley was doing, I could see she was meticulously setting up the dolls on a patio play set, complete with deck chairs and tables. It looked like absolutely no fun. I waited a few minutes, until she had everything in place and then shouted, “Look out! There’s an international drug cartel driving through, clear the area!” I imagined the scene from a typical action movies, screams, explosions and burnt rubber.

Instead of clearing the area, the dolls sat comfortably in their chairs, arms awkwardly stretched out, with no idea of their impending doom. With a loud VRRRRRROOOOOM the pink Corvette barrelled into the quiet patio party, sending the dolls flying and upturning the tables and chairs.

Ashley quirked a brow, “International drug cartel? Really, you think Kaylee would know what that is?” I could see she was desperately trying not to laugh.

I nodded, “Yes. Definitely. That is something all six year old girls know. It's the first thing every mother teaches their daughter.”

Ashley burst out laughing. Despite the violent play, Musica said nothing. It was obvious they were watching us through her or any number of cameras hidden throughout the room.

Ashley cleared her throat, “You really should play more like a real six year old girl.”

I said with a knowing smirk, “Is there a right way to be a girl?”

Ashley said matter-of-factly, “The character description states Kaylee is timid. And someone who likes following in her sister’s footsteps. She definitely wouldn’t be crashing into things like that.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “What’s the big deal? I’m playing. Isn’t that what they want?”

Ashley nodded, “Yes, but you aren’t acting like Kaylee. Here, help me put all the tables and chairs back.”

I fell backward, feigning death. “Here I’m playing dead. Let’s play murder scene. You can investigate the body and determine where the exit wounds are. Like on CSI.” I was actually proud of myself for how I had allowed my imagination to run wild.

Ashley replied with furrowed brows, “That is definitely not something a six and an eight year old girl would play. Here.” She went over to the table with the paper and pencils. She motioned for me to sit down, and she drew a crude M-A. Her tongue left her mouth, and her eyes stared down at the paper as she managed to form an ‘S’, followed by an H. I felt a measure of jealousy seeing her complete the ‘S’ with only some difficulty. I still couldn’t do an ‘R’. Ironically, I could probably write KAYLEE without issue.

She said, “Okay, since we both have trouble writing, we’ll do one letter only for each category. We’ll do three: car, job, and person you are going to marry.”

I said, “This sounds really stupid, but if I can avoid playing with dolls...” I had to admit, I wasn’t really acting like Kaylee, but I was playing with Ashley (Madison), my supposed sister, and I wasn’t calling myself Ryan. I figured Devon and Mark would doom themselves before me.

She grinned, “We’ll do you first. Okay, let’s see. Sports car, mini-van and garbage truck.” Ashley scrawled out a crude ‘S’, ‘M’ and ‘G’. Next. Astronaut, Famous Actor and Unemployed. And finally, who you are going to marry.” The grin on her face grew until it looked like it was going to split her face wide open, “Ashley. Megan Fox. The Lunch Lady.” She finished writing the letters meant to represent each word, while I looked on in abject boredom.

Ashley said, “Now choose a number. Here tell me when to stop.” She started making dots at the bottom of the page. I shouted stop, and she counted the dots, ending with a total of 7. She proceeded to count down from the M, crossing name and items off as she went. I sighed, as the girl’s enthusiasm was hardly contagious.

After frantic counting, Ashley stated, “Okay, you are going to live in a shack, you’ll be unemployed, you’ll drive a garbage truck and…you’ll be married to me.” Her statement caused me to smirk. The game seemed harmless enough, and I had to admit, I wanted my turn to really stick it to Ashley.

“Lucky you. Uh. So I guess it’s your turn now? So I get to pick what goes under the categories?” Ashley nodded, and I grinned devilishly. “Okay, so your car. A Subaru Impreza, a Bugatti roadster, or A Dodge Journey.”

Ashley blinked, “Wait which one is the bad one?”

I said firmly, “The Dodge Journey! No brainer. OK. For your job: bikini model, business executive, and mom.”

Ashley said, “You mean a homemaker? So the bikini model is the bad one, right?”

I smirked and continued, “You will marry either: me, Leonardo Di Caprio, or Mark.” Ashley stuck her tongue out at me in a very childish action. I couldn’t tell if she was just playing a part or legitimately upset. She said, “Leo is too boyish. Even now. I like Daniel Craig. Switch it. That’s the rule. You get one switch.”

I said, “How come I didn’t get a switch?”

Ashley smiled, “Because you didn’t ask for one.”

I took the pencil from Ashley and started making the dots on the page. She stopped me at nine. Ashley looked on in anticipation. I was thinking the game was better than setting dolls up on chairs. I did the counting, just as Ashley had done.

“OK. So, you are going to live in a mansion.”

I grinned and said, “You are going to drive a Bugatti. Sweet. You’ll be a bikini model. And…you’ll be married to Mark!”

I felt a bubbling in my stomach, the feeling moving to my throat, and then, I absolutely exploded in laughter. It was like I had eaten some terrible fish and been violently ill, except here, an absolutely high-pitched girly giggle burst forth. My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the sound, while my eyes widened to comical proportions. Ashley looked on in surprise.

Ashley being married to Mark was funny, but it shouldn’t have been uncontrollably funny.

I cleared my throat and said, “That game was really dumb.”

The problem was that a part of me really wanted to play again, to see all the potential futures available to us. It was at this point that I realized, the game hadn’t been the excruciating torture I expected. It had been kind of…fun.

***

Shortly after MASH, Ashley convinced me to return to the table and practice my letters. She explained that it would improve my fine motor skills, which in turn, would make it easier to grip and turn the screwdriver. After Ms. Daniels left, I went back to retrieve the tool, deciding to hide it under my pillow until the right moment. Maybe I could practice on Musica.

Musica chimed, “It’s time for dinner, girls! Maybe for dessert there'll be something with chocolate swirls!”

To my surprise, the superstar makeover closet moved aside, revealing the exit from our shared bedroom. Ashley and I shared confused looks, but we quickly made our way out. We met Mark and Devon in the hallway.

Devon said, “I hope this fucking means they are going to start giving us something other than sandwiches. I’m so goddamn sick of peanut butter and jelly.”

Ashley leaned in to whisper something to Devon. He gave her the finger, and Mark laughed. I assumed Ashley was warning Devon that he wasn’t in character. Ashley and I hadn’t exactly been in character the whole time either, but at least we weren’t swearing.

There were still the three doors in the hallway, one at the far end which led to the studio, one to the right, which bore the marks from Ashley’s keys, and one to the left, which slowly opened. The four of us entered a small cafeteria. Laid out on a child-sized table were four plates and four glasses of milk, although there were two pink glasses and two blues glasses. Mark and Devon ran past us, each sitting at one of the places set with a blue glass.

I sighed gently and sat down at one of the two remaining spaces. While the coloured glasses seemed harmless, the fact that I was sitting there in front of a pink glass, wreaked havoc on my male ego. The simple plastic cup affirmed my new gender. A ridiculous colour had taken my adult mind and put it through the wringer. Why was I letting it bother me? Was it the giggling? The fact I liked Ashley’s stupid game?

Ashley asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t like chicken fingers?”

The meal set out before us would have made the menu of any restaurant that served children. In fact, the Burger Palace served almost the exact same meal, minus the regular French fries.

I replied, “It’s nothing.”

I looked down at myself, still clad in the same pink dress from before. The one with the twirl-able skirt. Why hadn’t I changed? The clothes I had worn yesterday were still on the bathroom floor. It had only been a few days. I was weak, and I knew I needed to reaffirm who I was- what I was.

Devon said with a mouthful of food, “OK, so me and Mark were talking. We figured that it’d be a good idea to know how we were all changed, and if we all had the same experience. You know? It might be a clue to how they did it. One of us might remember something useful.”

Ashley said snidely, “Wow. That’s the smartest thing you’ve probably ever said.” She took a sip of her milk, while Devon glared at her.

Mark said, “Shut the fuck up, bitch. You seriously piss me off. You think you’re better than us? I bet you’re the first one to fucking lose it. You know in the room. You probably even use the night light. Fucking pussy. You don’t let her do that, right Ryan?”

I interjected, “Guys, this isn’t helping. I agree- we should do what Devon suggested. I’ll go first. For me, it happened while I was super-manning this chick against the wall. I started feeling like I had the flu, started burning up and losing my strength.”

Mark asked, “What’d the bitch look like? Was she fucking hot, did she have big tits? Come on, man, don’t hold out on us.”

In the time honoured tradition of the men’s locker room, where stories of sexual escapades flowed like water from the many showers, I remembered how they went. Were all of them true? Absolutely not. Were they fun to listen to? Hell yes. It was a massive game of one-up-man-ship. Who could go the longest, use the craziest position, or who could pick up the freakiest girl- the one who was willing to do almost anything. That would be Monique in my case.

Devon and Mark looked at me eagerly, while Ashley shook her head slowly. This is how I could reassert my masculinity, despite the pink-striped dress I wore.

“Double Ds. Perfectly shaped. She was a short stack, so like whatever she wore, they were just popping out all the time. She’d put her phone in there. Nice and tight. No sagging.”

Devon looked at me skeptically, “No way were they real.”

I grinned, “No, but they still felt fucking amazing. Anyway, so this chick and me, we’ve been going at it hardcore for like forty minutes. Every position you can think of she’s willing to try. She gets this look on her face and she pulls out my chest hair, and she’s sucking my face so hard I’m breathing through my nose.”

Devon and Mark listened, engrossed in the tale of my sexual prowess. My eyes darted toward Ashley, and I wasn’t surprised when I saw a look of absolute disgust. Her pretty features were scrunched into a seething mask. Her jaw clenched, as she ran her tongue over her teeth. Her eyes met mine, but the roiling, angry sea I expected was missing, in its place, a timid brook. Despite the lack of anger, however, her disappointment was obvious.

I continued with the story, pleased that I received the desired reactions from all those at the table. “So I ram her against the door, and she’s screaming in my ear, scratching my fucking back and biting my neck. I’m propping her up with one arm, and I’ve got a hand on her ass. And it’s like this perfect thing, not fat but nice and plush. And I’m-”

Ashley interjected loudly, “Sorry to interrupt Totally Untrue Tales of the Playboy Mansion, but I thought the point of this was to tell us about the symptoms. And how you first felt them.”

Devon and Mark shot Ashley disapproving looks. Mark took it a step further, “Fuck. Let him finish, bitch.”

While it may have seemed silly to focus on a pronoun, the fact that Mark had used ‘him’ instead of ‘her’ healed my shattered male ego. He had lumped Ashley and me together previously, calling us ‘the girls’, but now, I was back to being one of the guys. I said, while wearing a cock sure grin that must have looked strange on Kaylee’s face, “So I’m pounding into her, and she’s cutting up my back, but I can’t even feel it, and-”

Ashley stood, her head jarring to the side, huffing as she left the table.

I knew that I would pay for it later in our bedroom, but for now, I would enjoy the fact that the two little boys sitting across from me saw me as their equal.

***

“What’s up with you? Did you have a crush on me or something? Is that why you didn’t like me telling that story?”

Ashley’s laughter filled the room. It was musical, tinged with amusement without a hint of malice. “Don’t be silly, Kaylee. We’re sisters! Plus, I thought you liked Michael? Didn’t he share his lunch with you last week? You were telling me that you wanted to hold his hand at recess yesterday.”

I narrowed my eyes, “You’re pushing it.”

Ashley smiled sweetly, her eyes fluttering innocently, “So you don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? You said he was so nice when he gave you half his chocolate chip cookie.”

I shook my head, “I’m starting to think maybe I’m right.”

Ashley approached me and said, “Kaylee, here I have to tell you an important secret.” She leaned in and said, “Have you got brain damage? Seriously. I’m wondering if you have been in a serious accident. What the hell would make you think I liked you? Was it the complete look of disdain, or how about the looks of disgust? You know the one, right? Where it seemed like I was literally surrounded by a pile of rotting garbage.”

She continued, “Yeah. I thought you were cute, like you were my type. But I couldn’t get over the constant bullshit streaming from your mouth. And I mean constant.” Her voice raised above a whisper, “I’m angry because I thought I could trust you. But I can see you care more about what used to be between your legs and impressing those idiots than you do about me, or yourself for that matter. What part of act like Kaylee don’t you understand? You have to know they were monitoring us when we were eating. What if they decide to make all of us younger because you think you need to prove yourself to two jackasses?”

Ashley’s expression softened, but the hard look in her eyes remained. “So how did the story end?”

I cleared my throat lightly, “I felt this burning in my arms, and I couldn’t keep her up any longer. I-I dropped her. On her ass.” The admission slowly deflated my previously ballooning male ego.

Ashley’s expression never changed. Her hard eyes bore into me, judging my every move, seemingly my every breath. “And what about Jessica? I’m guessing that wasn’t Jessica.”

I replied, “No, Monique. I was going to see Jessica two nights later though. And look, I’m tired of your tone here. I’m not on trial. Just admit it, you hate men. And the only reason you are even speaking to me is because we’re stuck here together, and you don’t want me to drag you down with me.”

Ashley’s voice raised in volume, now well beyond a whisper, “It’s all about trust, Ryan. I don’t hate men. I just can’t trust 99% of them. You included apparently. I thought you were different from Mark and Devon, at least in getting to know you these past couple days. But you’re really not different at all, are you? You still think with your dick, even if you don’t have one anymore.”

She continued, “What would have happened if you and Jessica really hit it off? You end up going out, getting married and having kids. And two days before you were going to meet the woman you might marry you were banging Monique against a door.”

I shook my head repeatedly, “Guys don’t think that way. I was just working off some stress. Monique doesn’t know Jessica. So what’s the problem?” The only guy who did think that way was Greg. Maybe I should have introduced him to Ashley.

Ashley said, “The problem is that you can’t be a good guy and do that kind of stuff. If you really cared about Jessica, and really wanted to be with her, you wouldn’t be having sex with other girls two days before your date. It’s kind of the same thing going on here with us. In here you do pretty well. But then when you’re around Mark and Devon, you’re- you’re a big prick Ryan. It’s like you’re making a date with me, I’m trusting you, and then you’re screwing around behind my back, like you did to Jessica.”

She added, “How you act in here and out there could be the difference between what saves Ryan Sullivan or what makes Kaylee, a real, living breathing person.”

I said, “But what’s the point of this? Are they going to turn us back? Undo all the damage they’ve done to us? The idea I got from Daniels is we are going to shoot this show, and that’s it. What then? What if by agreeing to do all this, by becoming our characters…that we actually become our characters? Then we’ve lost.”

Ashley replied, “We don’t know any of that. What we do know is that Ms. Daniels has threatened to make us even younger if we don’t cooperate. We can’t fight them physically, so we need to fly under the radar. I’ve done this my whole life, and it works, Ryan. You and the boys, you’re going into this like you are still full-grown men. You can’t. The only way we even have a chance is to do what they say.” She leaned in and whispered, “We have to make them think they’ve won. Hopefully it means they get complacent. That’s when we strike. You keep practicing your letters, and that screwdriver will be way easier to use next time. I used to do it all the time to babysitters. You make them think you are a little angel, and then when they are on the phone with their boyfriend, you get ice cream. SO much ice cream.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Ashley. She had effectively diffused a tense situation. “So Little Miss Perfect has a dark side.”

I wasn’t even upset with her for coming up with a smart idea because honestly, it made perfect sense. If Daniels was crazy enough to do this us, she was probably equally crazy when it came to regressing us further.

Ashley replied, “And sometimes I’d get sprinkles. Seriously though, does this make sense to you? Do you see that Mark’s method is kind of like trying to go in guns blazing without any guns? I’m convinced those two are going to screw up. So we should-”

I sighed lightly, “Learn our lines.”

Ashley smirked, “I already know mine, but I’ll help you, little sister.”

I glared at Ashley, but she winked at me and smiled. I realized that she was simply playing her part. Her plan would likely work as long as we didn’t start really to believe we were sisters who went to the same elementary school.

I replied, “Um…I-I’m.”

Ashley grinned, “I thought you said you were good at adlibbing.”

I squeaked, “I don’t have a name for you. And big sister sounds dumb.”

Ashley replied, “How about Her Royal Highness the Brilliant Princess Madison?”

I raised a brow, “How about…not? I think I’ll call you stupid head. Or Maddie.”

Ashley deadpanned, “Maddie is fine.”

***

Two hours later, I felt comfortable that I knew my lines. Ashley suggested that I review them in the morning with her, and considering we had nothing else to do, I tended to agree with her. I planned to stop playing the Gameboy and focus entirely on my letters and other activities that would improve my fine motor skills, even if it just meant cutting paper over and over again. Despite my physical age, I had seemingly grown up in the time spent with Ashley. My inability to run from my predicament likely played a role in my increased focus and maturity too, but Ashley would probably say it was all her.

As in the previous days, the lights went out at exactly 8 PM. The darkness blanketed us, but it offered no warmth, only a constant fear of the unknown. I wasn’t certain what lurked in the room overtaken by the night, but my mind fabricated terrifying images- ones that sent doubt into my adult mind. Doubt that what I was imagining, perhaps existed and breathed through a four-nostril snout. I would not allow myself to use the night light. As much as Ashley told me that Devon and Mark’s approval didn’t matter, I still measured myself against them. Of course, they could have been sleeping with a night light too, but they would never admit it.

I closed my eyes and almost instantly, the images faded. My eventful day had exhausted my body and mind. My failure with the screwdriver coupled with the threats against us, the near constant stimulation in the bedroom during play and the memorization of three episodes worth of lines- all transpired to send me quickly to dream land.

I woke perhaps hours later, but considering the saccharine yet grating sing-song of Musica was not the culprit, I knew it wasn’t morning. Above me, I heard whimpering. It sounded like Ashley was crying into her pillow. I didn’t have a lot of experience comforting people. I wasn’t a robot, but when faced with a surge of emotion, I felt awkward more often than not. When Greg came to me after a fight he’d had with Eve, basically bawling his eyes out, it took everything in my power not to call him a giant, deluxe pussy.

I managed to distract him with a co-op game of Halo. Thankfully, we didn’t have to talk about anything, and once he got into the game, it was basically forgotten, at least by me. With my mother, it was completely different. When she cried, I just ignored her. What the hell was I supposed to do? Console my own mother? I missed my dad too and worried about him, but crying did nothing, except make her look weak in my eyes.

On the flip side, my dad never talked about what bothered him. I could tell that he had misgivings about his missions at times, especially when we invaded Iraq. The only emotion I got from my dad was anger, and it was usually deserved. I was probably being a little shit (his words, not mine).

So, as Ashley tried her best to muffle her cries, I tried to go back to sleep. I figured that she would eventually just fall asleep herself, but after probably twenty minutes, I realized that she wasn’t going to stop. Stranger still, despite her not being my actual sister, I felt a connection to her and a bizarre sympathy that had been absent previously.

Yes, I felt bad for people, but not usually enough to do anything about it, except distract them, like I had with Greg. This body, while opening me to a world of childish emotions, had also placed within me something else. Perhaps it was because Ashley was the only one who was nice to me here, but I actually wanted to help her. Maybe there was something in the give-and-take relationship we had developed, which replaced the take-and-take I had with pretty much every girl I had dated.

I clambered up the ladder, and by the time I arrived, Ashley had already turned to face me. I said, “Uh. Hey, I’m just- I’m here to…I” I tried to put into words my reason for climbing the ladder, and for all the many layers of bullshit that I used to peddle to women and men alike on a daily basis, I couldn’t put on the act- I couldn’t play the role of the man who plays an actor in real life.

Thoughts flitted in my head, like girls on a dance floor, but each one of them was a ‘grenade’- wholly unattractive options to deal with Ashley’s misery. Why the hell was I up there? Should I just tell her to be quiet, to stop being a little whiney bitch about whatever was bothering her?

I was completely unprepared for the mass of little girl that assaulted me. At first, I thought she was angry, thinking I was there to poke fun at her, but her arms quickly encircled my soft body, desperately holding onto me, as if I were a piece of driftwood she clutched to save herself from a bloated soggy end.

My eyes widened. I felt the girl’s warmth, but also, her tear-stained face and slightly runny nose. She pressed her head into my pajamas. She was trembling, although her skin was not cold. Something had terrified her. I didn’t think it was possible for adults to display such fear.

I laughed awkwardly, the exact same way I had when Hannah told me she had decided to leave for a college five hours away. I didn’t know how to react to it. Hannah and I had dated for almost two years, and she was the closest thing I had to a real friend. I laughed it off, telling her that I’d make it big in LA, then I’d come get her. She could be my trophy wife. To me it was funny, but it was clear, she’d outgrown me. Our teenage indiscretions, racing around in my mom’s car didn’t mean much to someone with a future.

She wanted me to come with her, to take the money my mom had given to me for school and get an education. The money was actually part of the life insurance payment we got from the army after my dad’s death. Despite having the money to go, I told her college wasn’t for me, I’d learn how to act by doing it, absorb the craft through the sights and smells. Basically get through it like I had school- bullshit and give up if it was too hard. That’s how I approached work, relationships- everything.

Ashley sniffed, “A-Are you laughing at me?”

I shook my head vigorously, “N-No! I’m just- I’m bad at this.”

Ashley asked, sounding clearly confused, “How can you be bad at this? Just sit there and let me hug you and stop laughing.” Her grip around me loosened, as she seemed to reconsider whether I could actually provide what she needed.

I nodded, “I really am. Look, my girlfriend from high school, her cat dies, right? She comes to me crying, and I’m like laughing. I think it’s sad, and the cat was alright, but I’m just thinking- why’s she crying over a cat? It’s a cat. So I’m feeling sad for her, but I’m laughing cause it’s a fucking cat.”

Ashley released her grip entirely, “And then what did you do?”

I replied sheepishly, “I suggested we take a drive. So we park, and I’m thinking, well she agreed- this is the place where it happens, and she’s already kind of hugging me, so I go for her bra.”

Ashley burst out laughing, although the laughter was punctuated by occasional snorting, “Oh my god. That’s it. Your gender. It’s over. It was a nice million plus years, but sorry, you’re shipping out tomorrow.”

I said, “Okay, okay- yeah it was stupid. But I thought it’d take her mind off of it. You know- her stupid cat.”

I asked, eager to change the subject, “Did you have a nightmare?”

Ashley replied, “Yeah. But it’s nothing.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Okay. But I mean- you seem to have a lot of trouble sleeping. Did you sleep better with the night light?”

I heard Ashley sigh in what was an impenetrable darkness as even the gentle glow of Musica’s pilot indicators was absent tonight. “Honestly yes, and I’m not really ashamed to admit it. Even as an adult, I always slept with a little light in the hallway. I never had the door closed either. I told myself it was for the bathroom, to light my way.”

She said bitterly, “You can call me a pussy if you want. Or weak or whatever. I don’t care, Ryan.”

I felt my teeth gently bite down on my lower lip. “Well…you’re not a pussy. Just maybe you could face what’s bothering you. You know try and fight it. I know for me I sometimes see monsters in the dark. I just close my eyes and tell myself they aren’t really there.”

Ashley said with a steely quality to her voice, “The problem is that I’ve seen real monsters, Ryan. And it’s all coming back. I don’t have the defences anymore to deal with it. I lay in bed and I just think about it over and over. I used to do what you do. But it doesn’t work anymore.”

I watched as the silhouette of the girl’s head gently dipped. “I feel the same way about my fears, they kind of overpower me sometimes. Like I’m worried, you know that people, even you- you’ll just see me as Kaylee.”

A deep sigh enveloped Ashley’s small body, “Fuck, Ryan- this isn’t about you and your gender identity. Is this what you did with your past girlfriends? Sometimes you just need to listen. I’m trying to tell you something here. Stop thinking about yourself. I’ve listened to a long list of your problems during the time we’ve been here. This isn’t about being a man or a woman, it’s just about being a good person.”

I cleared my throat gently, managing to squeak, “Sorry.”

Ashley reached out and took my hand in hers. “I know you are scared about it, Ryan. But I’ve helped you as much as I can. You know the bathroom stuff. And if we have to grow up like this, I’ll help you with even more bathroom stuff.” I made a face, shutting my eyes and sticking out my tongue, but Ashley couldn’t see it. To the uninitiated, it probably looked like Kaylee had just sucked on a lemon for the first time. Even though I couldn’t really see it, I had a feeling Ashley was grinning.

She added, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” I shuddered, and again, I just knew Ashley was grinning from ear to ear.

I said, “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll listen to what you are trying to say.”

Ashley replied, “I-I’m not ready to tell you. At least I don’t think I am. Can you just trust me, you know as a friend, that I need the light?”

I shrugged my shoulders. A part of me wanted to tell Ashley that she was displaying weakness, a weakness that could eat away at the remains of her adult mind, but I also saw the only person who had shown any kindness to me during our ‘stay’ here. I was also partially annoyed that she wouldn’t divulge her secret. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Was she worried I would blab it to Mark and Devon?

I climbed down the ladder. When I reached the bottom, I flicked on the glass dancer lamp, and fumbled around for the night light. The night light, shaped like a cartoon lady bug, plugged easily into the outlet. I flicked off the lamp and climbed back into the bottom bunk.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 8

“Kay-lee! Kay-lee!” A flaxen-haired little girl turned around. What she saw caused her face to erupt in delight. She had a brimming smile, while regarding an orange hippo with bright inquisitive eyes. Freckles lightly dusted her nose and below her eyes. Her cheeks, squeezable and plump, were rosy.

The girl lilted, “Hermie! I thought you went away! Are you here to play with me?”

Hermie chuckled lightly, putting his hands on his belly, “Yes, Kay-lee! Even though your friends don’t believe that I exist. I know you believe. That’s why I came back!”

The little girl jumped excitedly, “I’m so happy you’re here, Hermie! My mommy and daddy said I have to stay up here until I’m ready to be good. But what happened wasn’t even my fault! It was Madison who made the mess in the kitchen with Louis.”

Hermie replied, “I saw what happened. You have to trust that your parents know best. They’ll never ever steer you wrong. If you think of yourself like a great big sailboat- your parents are the wind that pushes you along.”

The girl sighed and lightly stomped her feet, “But I didn’t do it!”

Hermie smiled his ever-present smile, “It doesn’t matter. Just accept your parents know best. No matter what they say or do to you. Same for your aunts and uncles, your teachers- all adults. It’s a lot easier to just listen and behave, right Kay-lee?”

Very light piano music drifted into the little girl’s bedroom. She looked around for its source but a grin soon replaced her confusion as Hermie began swaying back and forth.

The hippo sung, “Your parents know best, they’ll fix any little mess! A scraped knee, a bully, you must confess, that your parents know best! Follow all their rules, it’s really not that hard, you’ll get so far above the rest, if you accept that your parents know besssssssstttttttt!”

The little girl hung her head, “When I’m older, maybe I’ll know more. My parents love me, they’ll open every door. So I’ll never ever ask them why, just do as I am told, and never be bold!”

The two sung together, “Just accept that parents know beeeeeeeeeesssssssssttttttt!

The blonde girl reached out and hugged the orange hippo, “Thanks, Hermie! I’m gunna say sorry right now to my mommy and daddy.”

Hermie looked down at her with that eternal grin, “Wonderful, Kay-lee! When you go, I know you’ll just feel so good inside. Your mommy and daddy will hug you and tell you how much they love you. Remember that people who are older than you are wiser too.”

The girl looked at the Hermie, clearly perplexed, “What’s that mean?”

Hermie replied, “It means they know more than you. Just like the song!”

The girl replied happily, “Thanks, Hermie! I get it. I love you! And one day I’ll get my friends to believe me that you’re real.”

Hermie reached out and hugged the little girl, “I know you will, Kay-lee! And I love you too.”

Ms. Daniels said, “And cut! Wonderful scene, Kaylee. Did you have any trouble with the blocking?”

I shook my head. “No. The script was really clear about where I needed to stand and how I needed to move during the song.”

I had allowed myself to fall into the role of Kaylee. It was easier than thinking about my actions or my lines. If I treated it like we were separate people, that it was simply a story, and I was playing a character within it, perhaps I could maintain a separation between Kaylee and Ryan.

After all, the best actors in the world only become their characters for a production, a scene- an instance where a vicious temper is needed or unconditional love. However, even the ones in makeup don’t go home looking like their characters. I did.

It was the third episode, and surprisingly, all had gone smoothly, even Devon and Mark, who I expected to be trouble during filming, were nearly perfect. Ms. Daniels’ threat had apparently been enough to scare them straight.

Ms. Daniels spoke into a headset that was linked to the control room. “Did you get the C-U on Kaylee during the song? I didn’t see camera 3 moving at all.”

I assumed that the cameras were all controlled remotely from the control room. The boom mics too seemed to move without any physical prompting.

Ms. Daniels ground her heel into the floor. I noticed she did this when she was particularly upset, “I don’t care that you got it with camera 6. It was supposed to be camera 3. Well then fix it! I noticed camera 7 and 8 weren’t moving either. Fix those too!”

Robotic or remote controlled cameras weren’t unusual for a production this size, and it avoided the use of camera operators, who might have asked awkward questions, like “Where are your parents?” On sets with child actors, parents were almost always present, especially when young children were involved. A commercial, where I had a tiny part, starred a young boy who had a stage mother for a father. The kid clearly didn’t want to be there, but the father kept insisting he redo his parts, even after the director OKed the scenes.

After three episodes of Hermie, it was clear the filming was going fine, except for this issue with the cameras.

The elevator thrummed to life. Thirty seconds later, the 'paramedics' who had brought me to my current prison were carefully checking the cameras. The heavier set one said, “Someone’s pulled the power cables from these.”

Ms. Daniels looked at us, the assembled children, and said, “Have little hands been touching the equipment? Children- these cameras are not toys! Speak up now. Remember what Hermie says, adults know best. If I find out little hands have been touching the equipment, you’ll all be in big, big trouble.”

We said nothing. Ms. Daniels peered down at us, bending forward in the process. For a woman her age, her chest should have sagged more. Gravity should have taken the impressive chest and pulled it hurtling downward- but it hadn't. They were as perky and as firm looking as Monique’s, without the silicone.

A tiny smile grew on the woman’s formerly angry face, “Kaylee, it’s not polite to stare. I’m not mad though.” She gently tousled my hair, “I’m sure you were just looking because you were curious. When you are about twelve or thirteen, sometimes earlier, you’ll start growing a pair of your own. It’s actually natural and healthy to look. I bet you can’t wait to be all-grown-up, right? You’ll probably be a perfectly, pretty young woman, won’t you Kaylee?” Her last words carried with them such heavy sarcasm that she might as well held up a sign that said, “THIS IS REALLY SUPPOSED TO ANNOY YOU.”

The boys laughed, and I regarded Ms. Daniels with a sneer, but she snatched my hand and easily dragged me along with her, out of earshot of the others. She motioned for Hermie to watch the others. “There were cameras running in the audition room. I saw how you looked at me before. You were disgusted weren’t you? Probably not the same way you were with the receptionist at the clinic, but similar. Am I right?”

When I turned my head from her, she hissed, “Answer me. Or this can become much worse.”

I glared at her defiantly, my lips firm and my jaw clenched. She simply smiled, “There’s still too much Ryan in you. You have until the count of three to answer my question. Were you disgusted by me before?”

This was not a battle I could win. It was the equivalent of the minefield, the loaded gun question of the ages- "Do I look fat in this?" This was the question now asked of millions of viewers on YouTube on weight loss channels, but the answer, no matter what, would always leave the girl or boy unsure if there was sincerity in the words or devastated at being called ‘fat’.

Had I gone on a few of the sites? Yes, particularly where I felt that if the girl lost weight she could be a perfect ten. I was very honest, sometimes blunt. I loved to watch their progression, usually from chunky freshman fifteens to nearly perfect. There were always one or two things wrong, but still, it was usually an improvement. Unless, the weight loss gave the girl a horse face. That was always unfortunate.

“One.” I really didn’t want to have to tell her that the bags under her eyes made me think she was seriously sleep deprived or a meth addict. Those were the first words that popped into my head. Or that the clothing she wore during our first meeting, especially the blouse, made her look like a lumpy trash bag with the way it emphasized her love handles.

“Two.” But could I lie to her? She would know. If the camera was on me during the audition, it recorded my reaction to her face and her upper body, including her formerly large saggy breasts. Not to mention, as per Ashley’s advice, I was supposed to be staying under the radar. That meant doing as Ms. Daniels asked.

I nodded, “OK fine. Yeah, I mean you weren’t exactly my type. You reminded me of a mom who used to be hot but kind of let herself go.” I knew Hollywood types. “But you’ve really firmed up.” I knew them really well. These were people who considered a tummy tuck a routine procedure.

She asked with a delighted smile, “Really?” The words bounded off her tongue.

I replied confidently, “Definitely. I mean you’ve seen the look on my face, right? You’re fucking hot. I’d do you in a second.” As bizarre as it was to have those words come out of the mouth of a little girl, Ms. Daniels ate them up, like a football team at an all-you-can-eat pasta buffet.

She grinned and again tousled my hair, “That’s wonderful to hear, Kaylee, but it’s not really proper. It’s only natural for men and women to have those feelings about each other. You’re too young to understand now, but eventually you’ll want to look like me, instead of…well you’re far too young for me to explain that.”

I shrugged off Ms. Daniels’ attempt to goad me, but her words planted themselves in my mind like a parasitic seed, leeching the remnants of my masculinity. Would I come to see myself as only Kaylee? Would I have to grow up again? Oh shit. I couldn’t even imagine having to deal with the bleeding and the hormones- in a way, being a child shielded me from the more distasteful aspects of being a woman, except for my inability to control my emotions at times.

Ms. Daniels asked, “Are you thinking about how you’d like to look when you’re all grown up, Kaylee? How many boyfriends you’ll have? It’s exciting isn’t it? Don’t be in a hurry to grow up though.” She said the final words with a beaming smile, “You’ll miss all the fun!”

A grim seriousness eclipsed the smile, “Of course, you’ll get older, losing your beauty to time. You won’t get the looks that you both hate and crave any longer. But then…you’re years and years away from that, Kaylee.”

I asked, “What are you going to do with us when this is over? I mean are you going to keep us here?”

Ms. Daniels grinned, but the expression lacked any sympathy or remorse for what she had wrought. No, it was the look of a madwoman. The way her cold eyes dug into my own was disconcerting, but the slight curling of her lip and the way she gently ran her tongue over her teeth, as if she meant to devour me whole, this- this was terrifying.

She answered in a sing-songy voice, “Why you’ll go back to your mommy and daddy, Kaylee.”

***

The first day was long. When Ashley and I finally returned to the room, it was pitch black, and I had to fumble in the dark in order to plug in the night light. Amazingly, the tiny light acted as a beacon to control her fear. The fitful sleep that had plagued her was gone, and she woke each morning brimming with energy. Three days later, we had finished nearly the entire first season. We were doing between four and five episodes a day, which amounted to twelve to fourteen hour days.

There were still the odd glitches in the shooting, like the boom mic cutting out halfway through a scene, but all of the performers, even Mark and Devon, followed the script. I also hadn’t told anyone what Ms. Daniels said, not even Ashley.

On the fifth day of shooting, as I was walking between sets, I saw something plastic lying on the floor. At first glance, it looked like a credit card, but as I grew nearer, I could see it was actually some sort of access card. The card had a tiny microchip built into its thin frame. I looked around, ensuring there were no cameras on me and quickly slipped off my shoe. The script had me wearing dresses in every scene, so I didn’t have any pockets, but I was able to slide the card into my shoe without a problem.

Later in the room, when both of us were exhausted from another marathon day of shooting, I climbed into Ashley’s bunk and whispered, “Hey. Hey! Are you asleep?”

I received a groan in reply, “I was. What’s up, Ryan?” Night was the only time we ever stepped out of our characters. We weren’t certain there were cameras on us, but it was a time when we could reassert who we actually were. We told stories about our families to remember our lives, although Ashley definitely focused more on her mom, while I, unsurprisingly, talked about my dad.

I held the plastic card in my hand, cradling it, before carefully handing it to Ashley. “I found this behind the classroom set today. You think it might open one of those doors in the hallway before the studio?”

Ashley ran her hands along the edge of the card, and she emitted a tiny cry of surprise, “Wow, this is a great find! It might. It’s worth a try. I think the whole under the radar thing is working. It’s like the boys had the same idea. Did you mention it to them?”

I frowned and began to fidget. “Uh, there’s three of us, Ashley.”

Ashley replied, “Sorry, it’s just you really get into the role. I sometimes forget. You’re actually a really good actor, Ryan.” She laughed, “Sorry if I sound so surprised. But even the mannerisms. It’s hard to tell I’m watching someone who used to be a grown man. That’s not a stab at you at all, it just means you’ve got great range.”

I accepted the compliment with a sour face and sigh, “That’s what has me a bit worried. I’m finding it easier and easier to enter into Kaylee mode. I’m getting used to this, and it’s freaking me out.”

Ashley said gently, “I think based on what has happened to you, you’ve done really well to maintain who you are. Listen, tomorrow you’re going to use that card during filming. You’re actually not in one of the episodes until the very end. I’ll botch some lines to buy you some time. I get the feeling there aren’t many people here, and with the two in the control room watching the cameras taping the show, maybe they won’t notice if you sneak out and try the card.”

I asked, “Should we risk it though? What if Ms. Daniels follows through on her threat?”

Ashley said firmly, “Are you Ryan or are you Kaylee? Snap out of it. What happened to the guy who had all the confidence in the world? The guy who walked up to me, checked me out and then said that line. Are you telling me you’re not still the same person inside? That is a question that Kaylee would ask. She’s timid, probably a little momma’s girl always hanging around her mommy’s skirts.”

She reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. The action had a calming effect. “I think we can only act in these roles for so long before we actually become Madison and Kaylee. We’ve kept out of trouble for the last few days, and hopefully, they are at a point where they think they can trust us. Eventually, you have to act. Come on, Ryan. This has you written all over it. If you can’t gather the courage to do this, then you’ve lost. You might as well just accept that you are going to be Kaylee for the rest of your life.”

I fell backwards with a defeated sigh. What was wrong with me? Usually, it was so easy to escape, quit a job, break off a relationship- sometimes over text or voice mail. However, here- there was no escape. Not this time.

I said, “I can’t do it. I just- I feel like it’s hopeless. They have a plan for us, I’m not sure what exactly. But Ms. Daniels, she told me when they are done with us, they are sending us to our parents. And I doubt she means our real parents.”

Ashley lay down next to me. She propped her head up with her hand and rested on her elbow. “It doesn’t matter what they are going to do. All that means is that we have to get out of here before we are finished shooting. Tomorrow, you need to see if that card works on the doors.”

I shook my head, “You don’t understand. I’ve never really been good at anything. I quit football because I was too small. I left home because I couldn’t stand living with my mom, and my girlfriend moved away. I didn’t go with her because I was scared I was too stupid to go to college. Two weeks ago or how ever long it’s been, I was ready to quit acting. I quit my job at the restaurant too. I’ve quit everything- relationships, friendships. I don’t have the ability to deal with this. I talk a big game, Ashley, but I’ve never really succeeded at much in my life. And it’s just so easy to run away from it all and start over.”

Ashley asked, “So you are ready to start over as Kaylee, is that it? You’re pathetic. You don’t think I’m scared? I think I need to bring Mark in here to set you straight. So you’ve been running your whole life, and I’m sure that moving so much didn’t help, but you are holding your life in the balance here. Your memories, your thoughts and feelings- everything that makes you Ryan Sullivan. It’ll be gone. Is that what you want?”

I sulked, “No. But I just feel like I’m in a room and the walls are caving in on me. And no matter what I try to do to stop them, they keep moving.”

Ashley replied, “I’m not an expert on this, Ryan, but it sounds like you are fighting growing up. You run away from the things that force you to deal with harsh realities. You aren’t a failure because you haven’t really ever tried. From what you’ve told me with your past relationships and your jobs, you never put yourself in a position where you could grow. Did you know I’ve been in the business since I was eleven years old? I begged my mom before that, but she wouldn’t let me.”

She added, “For some people, it takes a really long time to break into acting. And how long have you been at it? Like two years? You didn’t fail. You just gave up. Just like you are now, but here- you have nowhere to go. Do you really want to let Daniels win?”

She shook her head, slowly moving away from me, edging back toward her pillow. “Is this how you want your dad to see you? He’s up there watching you- do you think he’d be proud of you?”

I felt immense pressure in my chest, and then a burning in my throat, as a massive lump formed. My eyes were seemingly going to return to the well, but as the first tear dribbled down my cheek, I thought about my dad. I imagined him looking down on me, disgust filling every part of his being, and then I thought about my mom. Shit. I was turning into my mom. My eyes widened, my brows attempting to break through the ceiling of our bedroom. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I wanted to climb down into my bunk and hide under the covers until morning, then maybe it would be fine, but I started to realize that Ashley might be right. The image of my dad looking down on me with revulsion stayed with me, and the fact that hiding under the covers crying my eyes out is what my mom would have done, began to push me solidly in a more courageous direction.

My dad had braved Afghanistan and Iraq and been shot at more times than he could count. He defused fucking bombs for a living. If he could do that, I could sneak into a room. I snatched the card from Ashley’s hand, which was an impressive feat in the dark, and returned to my bunk.

***

“Sorry, Ms. Daniels.”

“Madison, you are usually so good with your lines. What’s gotten into you today?”

Ms. Daniels was peering at Ashley sternly, her hands planted firmly on hips that were getting slimmer by the day. The fine lines that used to have a perpetual presence at the ridge of her eyes only formed when she laughed now. Her legs once marred by ugly purplish veins were slender and smooth. She had the fresh-faced look of a junior executive. Few people would believe that she had the power to hire and fire anyone, unless she was a celebrity or someone with serious connections.

Ashley replied, “I’m just a bit nervous today. I’m not sure why. I’ll get it this time. I swear.”

Ms. Daniels nodded and called for action. I took this opportunity to slip away. For a moment, I thought that Hermie saw me, but it was hard to tell where the human eyes behind the rubber mask were actually pointing.

Once I entered the corridor, I increased my pace. Ashley and I had carefully scouted the corridor, noting that there weren’t any obviously visible cameras in the space. My short legs covered the distance slowly. To me, I was moving at lightning speed, but the actual distance I travelled was small. The twin pig tails bounced on my shoulders as I pumped my legs. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the two fire doors, each with a separate access panel. I leaned down and popped off my ballet flat, revealing the key card.

I tried the door, which still bore the notches from Ashley’s keys, but the light on the panel glowed red, denying me entry. Frustrated, but feeling courageous with the notion that I might save everyone with my discovery, I tried the opposite door, but I felt less enthusiastic, knowing it led to the cafeteria. Still, the card slid into the waiting slot, immediately turning the light green and emitting a gentle buzzing sound. Thankfully, the door slid open in the same manner as the bedroom and cafeteria doors. I was certain that the door would have been too heavy for me to open on my own.

I entered the cafeteria and explored the room. We ate all our meals here, so I felt I knew the layout well enough. I couldn’t see any other doors, other than the one I had used to enter, but I noticed a small air vent on the far side of the room. I sighed heavily. The access card had led me to a dead end. My chest constricted, my failure imminent, as I realized the card was useless. I could be the first one to sit down in the cafeteria, choosing a blue cup, but nothing beyond that.

I remembered Ashley’s words, however, and quickly saw my error. I had to look for the advantages in this body, as minor and rare as they might be. I examined the vent and noticed a significant difference between the one in the studio and this one- there were no screws. The thin metal grate easily slid open and Kaylee’s tiny form fit perfectly in the enclosed space. As Ryan, I would have had trouble even getting my upper body in the vent. Ok. A tiny advantage. Oh and apparently, I could sing now too. I realized that I had sung the song with Hermie effortlessly. Before, I was practically tone deaf.

I crawled through the duct, which led me to another grate. I opened it easily and entered what looked like a stock room. There were a number of shelves and cupboards lining the walls. The carpeted floor muffled my footsteps as I crept into the room. Light from the cafeteria filtered in, and I realized that my best opportunity to avoid detection by any cameras was to stay in the shadows.

The same shadows that my now very active imagination filled with monsters every night. I caged my fear, realizing that this could be my only opportunity to explore the room for my possible salvation. Steeling myself, I crept along the wall, using my hands to feel my way between the shelves and cupboards. I came across a well-lit area with a number of filing cabinets.

The filing cabinets were all taller than me, except for one, which was about at my eye level but unfortunately, all of them were locked. However, just as I was feeling a debilitating sense of failure weigh on my slight shoulders, I caught sight of something shiny on the cabinet. Normally, warning bells should have gone off. This was entirely too easy. The access card and now, a set of keys in plain view.

A taller person could have missed the keys, but they were placed directly at eye level for me. I simply had to swivel my head to see them. I picked up the keys and quickly started trying them in one cabinet marked “PERSONAL EFFECTS”. The third key I chose turned in the lock. The drawer slid open easily.

For the second time in as many days, my eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. Inside the drawer was a set of plastic bags. All of them had cell phones wallets, and other personal items. I felt joy, similar to a child on Christmas morning or when I received a text from Monique (OK, maybe I was actually happier that Jessica agreed to go out with me, but Monique was a close second). Inside my plastic bag was the pin that marked my dad’s successful overseas duty and my cell phone, including the charger. The five-inch device looked like a tablet computer in my small hands. I immediately located the power button and held it in, desperately hoping that I had at least enough juice to make one phone call or text.

Should I call the police? Ignoring the whole turning adults into children crime, they were breaking the law Ashley had quoted- the fair use and equal pay or something. Oh, and they were also holding minors prisoner.

Unfortunately, my phone was completely dead. The top of the line, paid with a credit card smart phone had a battery saving mode that allowed the phone to hibernate for weeks if it wasn’t used, draining very little battery. The fact that it was dead meant that we had likely been here for at least a month, possibly more. I checked the other phones, but they were also dead. I quickly looked for a power outlet.

It was at this point, that I heard voices. To the left of the eye-level cabinet, I saw a vent, similar to the one in the studio.

“Your constant filming has jeopardized my experiment, Ms. Daniels. You told me explicitly that I would be allowed to continue my observations of their behaviour and their transition. Instead, you have them filming twelve to fourteen hours a day. This is a critical juncture. I insist that you give me access to the children for at least two to three hours per day.” It was Dr. Travers, and while his voice wavered momentarily from its monotone consistency, he soon enough readopted his trademark drone.

It seemed the vent led to an adjoining room. Next to it was the outlet I had been searching for. I plugged in my phone and waited for it to go into the start-up sequence.

Ms. Daniels replied, “Doctor, our agreement was that I would bring you the subjects for your experiment. I have provided you with monitors for you to view the children while we are filming. While they are eating and a multitude of cameras in the bedroom of both the girls and the boys. I’ve got investors to look after. The world doesn’t stop with your research. All the equipment and lab space you’ve been given costs money. Millions of dollars in fact.”

Dr. Travers droned, “You will make your money back tenfold. Look what it has done for you in smaller doses. I’ve discovered the secret of youth, Ms. Daniels.”

Ms. Daniels hissed, “We can’t tell anyone other than the inner circle what the serum actually does. Are you insane? I know you want the credit for the scientific discovery, but you can never go public with it. I will continue to supply you with generous grant money, and you will continue producing newer and improved versions of the formula.”

“And what about my observations? I need to view the children in a non-artificial environment. The controls for my experiments demand it. They need to interact with real children to test their responses to the stimuli. Lacking this, I will have an incomplete dataset, and I will be unable to make the required modifications to the serum. This is very delicate work.”

The doctor added, with the firmness of an automated telephone operator telling the user to hang up the phone, “We are quickly running out of time with this batch.”

Ms. Daniels asked, “Why are you always so pressed for time in getting your dataset, Doctor? You were like this with the last batch too.”

Dr. Travers replied, “I will attempt to keep this at a level a television executive can understand. The moment the serum is given, the body and mind are malleable, but this effect is not permanent. In that time, further alterations can be made. After this period, however, only interaction with real children or serious trauma will cause the mind to change. The body will also begin to age normally. The issue is I do not have the dataset to perfect the formula.”

My phone hummed to life, the hibernation feature slowly disengaging. It took more time to boot due to the previously static state, but unfortunately, the start-up sequence also caused the phone to chime loudly.

The conversation in the other room stopped.

Ms. Daniels asked, “Was that your phone, Doctor?”

Doctor Travers replied, “I don’t have a cellular phone, Ms. Daniels. It might have been my computer. Now what are you going to do about this? I need that data.”

“Why can’t you keep experimenting on convicts or the homeless? If you remember, and I know you do- the government is supporting both this show and your research with the knowledge that you will be doing what you can to alleviate the prison overcrowding occurring in most federal penitentiaries as well as dealing with the homeless population.”

The doctor replied, “I consider those experiments failures. And while the prisoners provide a unique dataset, it is not helpful for the general populace. The criminal mind works differently. Many of the homeless I experimented on had mental disorders I was unable to remove. I cannot perfect the formula using them.”

He added, “I need two to three hours per day.”

Ms. Daniels scoffed, “Are you suggesting we bring them to a park to play with other children? It’s too dangerous. You can have your two to three hours once the filming for the first season is over. I need to get it on the air. I’ve got some extremely influential pharmaceutical investors supporting the show. Including government backing. They’ll shut everything down if they think there’s no money in this. And that’ll mean your grant money.”

Dr. Travers droned, “Why would the government back a children’s program in that manner? It makes little sense. Especially since the moral platitudes you are offering would run counter to any conventional education program provided by the state.”

Ms. Daniels laughed, “Because with the marketing machine, with the promotions, the toys, the direct-to-DVD movies, we’ll have an entire generation of children effectively cowed. They will be taught to question nothing, to respect authority- all authority. What government wouldn’t want that?”

Dr. Travers replied, “And what about the parents? Won’t they have issues with little Johnny learning such problematic life lessons?”

Ms. Daniels said confidently, “Yes, some will. Absolutely. And they will keep their children away from it. The parents who use television or Netflix as a babysitter though, they’ll raise perfect obedient little robots. Did you know that most parents don’t actually know what their kids are watching or playing?”

I definitely could corroborate the latter, especially since I had been sworn at by at least a hundred eight year olds during Call of Duty or Battlefield matches over the years. Of course that never stopped the kids… I used to sneak over to a friend’s place to play Grand Theft Auto.

The doctor replied, “I don’t know the statistic, but I would imagine it is a high percentage. It seems extremely problematic, at least in my medical opinion, that you would have a generation of children grow up without any healthy coping mechanisms. You are teaching them to fear everything, except their parents- yet they are more likely to be hurt by their parents. They are liable to suffer from anxiety and depression.”

Ms. Daniels’ oozed self-adulation, “That’s where the pharmaceutical companies come in. That’s why they invested in the show. You know the “Brought to you by” section of the show? It says Brought to you by a Happier America. That’s big drug money at work. Half the people in this country already take some kind of sleep aid or sedative. We already dope up all the kids who misbehave in school. Now we’ll also give them and their friends, anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. All we’re doing here is making sure the next generation go down the same path as their parents.”

I peered down at my phone, and that crushing weight, the thousand pounds that screamed my failure bore down on me. The phone showed no signal. I couldn’t even make emergency calls. I would have to charge it enough to make it portable and then seek out a signal, perhaps by a window. I obsessively checked the battery, watching it tick up from 1 to 2 to 3% charged. I would need 5%, especially since the phone would quickly die if I couldn’t find a signal.

“And what are you getting from all this, Ms. Daniels?”

Ms. Daniels laughed, and surprisingly it lacked the huskier tone of her laugh from only minutes ago “Access to the fountain of youth and millions upon millions of dollars. We have an excellent arrangement here Dr. Don’t jeopardize it for any perceived ethics on your part.”

I heard a buzzing, and even though I had set my phone to silent, my hand flew to the phone. The buzzing continued, indicating a call. However, considering I had no signal, I knew it wasn’t mine. A few seconds later, Ms. Daniels spoke, “She’s still having trouble with the lines? I’m on my way.”

“Doctor, is it possible Madison has lost her ability to read? Or at least understand what she is reading?”

Dr. Travers replied, “Yes, but it is impossible to tell without observing her and completing a full examination. I need to see her. Tomorrow morning. It might be that the current iteration of the formula is more successful than I initially believed.”

Ms. Daniels shouted, “Not if it means they are losing their acting ability! We haven’t even finished shooting the first season yet. I want you to remove all the memories of their previous life, except for their knowledge of acting and their ability to read. Can you do this?”

Dr. Travers intoned, “I know that this is something you have requested for future versions of the formula, but it has not reached this stage yet. Again, I need that dataset. Specifically, I need to know how and why the interaction with real children causes the adult mind that remains to deteriorate more quickly. This regression may also be tied to memory, but I don’t know that yet. Put simply Ms. Daniels, without that dataset you will always have at least semi-belligerent actors on your stage. You can physically regress them, but past the malleable period, there will always be a piece of their old selves. Which will place your long-term plan into the realm of impossibility. A pipe dream in laymen’s terms.”

Ms. Daniels said, “Fair enough, Doctor. I promise that you will have your dataset. In fact, I have the perfect idea how to get it and deal with the issues in the girls’ room.”

I heard the clicking of heels, and realizing that Daniels was on her way back to the studio, I quickly returned my phone to the plastic bag and replaced it in the filing cabinet. I wasn’t sure how Ms. Daniels managed to get a signal, but my phone was just a very pretty piece of plastic without one.

I also wasn’t sure why they kept the phones there, so if I removed them, they would know someone had been in the room. Thankfully, the carpeted floor allowed me to sprint across the room, where I quickly dove into the vent and exited into the cafeteria.

I ran into an empty corridor and rapidly tried to shut the door to the cafeteria. I threw my featherweight form against the door, not concerned that the action might jar my shoulder or even dislocate it. If Daniels and Travers knew I had been eavesdropping, I was certain they would use me as a guinea pig for the memory wipe. I knew too much. I didn’t have anyone to tell, but I assumed that once the show became popular, once the juggernaut of a marketing machine got rolling, fans of the show would want to know about its young stars. I might just let it slip that we were actually prisoners here and that the whole show was just a massive plot to make children drug dependent.

The door shut more easily than I anticipated, but it still required significant effort on my part, including a shoulder that would be extremely sore tonight. Honestly, I was actually worried I wouldn’t be able to shut it all, but maybe something about the sliding-mechanism made it easier to close.

I slipped the access card back into my shoe and made my way back to the studio.

A sharp voice called out as I entered, “Kaylee! Where were you? And your dress! It’s ruined!” Ms. Daniels’ voice wavered between a gruff maturity and a sophomoric lilt.

Upon inspection, the dress, which had once been pristine white with a pink sash, was soiled. Looking down, even my knees were grimy. Suddenly an idea popped into my head, as my childhood memories returned me to a time when I had been splashing in puddles, trekking through muck and depositing the whole world onto my mother’s kitchen floor. I remember a weird kid I had met on a base in Missouri. He liked to play dogs. Which meant, he would crawl around (on-all-fours) and bark, lick things and sometimes even bite things (people included). His mom even fed him from a dog dish. I mean I liked eating beans and wieners from a dish sometimes, but not every day. This kid, Kevin, would always ask me to play with him because none of the others would. Well, I played with him, but only because he had just about every game system you could imagine. And his parents didn’t care about him playing the goriest and most violent games. I still remember spending hours shooting zombies in the face with shotguns in Resident Evil, watching their heads practically explode in a wonderful mess of brains, blood and bone. I was eight, but I wasn’t scared.

I was glad I had met Kevin, not just because of his incredible video game collection, but because he gave me the only idea I could muster in three seconds.

“I was playing kitty cat, Ms. Daniels. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wreck the dress. I got bored waiting for Maddie to finish her parts, so I came to play by myself.” I really wasn’t sure how a six year old spoke, but I got fully into the role. I looked down as I spoke and slowly moved my left foot slowly from side to side. It was as stereotypical as could be, but again, I was only going off what I remember as a kid and what I’d seen on TV.

Ms. Daniels’ angry face immediately softened. I was not prepared for the absolute look of joy on her face- the glow in her eyes and the sudden ear-to-ear smile, it was eerie. The bliss she displayed in seeing me act like Kaylee was unnatural. She reached down and tousled my hair. “That’s wonderful, Kaylee! I’m so happy to hear that. I’m not really mad at you. I know that children your age get bored easily. Poor thing. Let’s go see how your sister is doing. But first, I’ll help you pick a pretty new dress to wear.” She took my hand and dragged me toward the bedroom.

Author note: I have to say I am a little bit disappointed how much the readership has fallen off with each subsequent part of the book. I know this isn't uncommon as it happened with The Sidereus Prophecy, but not to such a significant degree. Is it the horror aspect? Are these types of stories not usually well received or as popular here? I will, of course, continue to post the story here, but I can't hide my disappointment that people aren't actually reading it.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 9

“Okay, so let me get this straight. We’re pawns within a massive conspiracy involving a television network, the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country and…if I understand it correctly- the federal government. Or at least people in the government.”

I nodded my head in rapid agreement. Ashley looked at me the same way I had looked at Ms. Daniels when she chose the frilliest and pinkest dress in the closet, and then proceeded to parade me in front of the mirror, telling me how pretty I looked. I looked at her like she was a fucking lunatic. It was a momentary break in character.

We were in our pajamas, engaging in our nightly talk, when we re-established our adult selves, except tonight was different. I had an extremely juicy piece of gossip. To anyone else, the whispering we did underneath the sheets of Ashley’s bed sounded like girl talk, but it was nothing like that.

Ashley said, “If Ryan Sullivan wasn’t in the same bed as me, I never would have believed it. I mean not that it would have taken a nation-wide conspiracy for me to sleep with you.” Even in the darkness, I knew she was smiling, likely grinning. She added, “Well maybe it would have taken that.”

I replied, half-serious and half-joking, “You were into me. Just admit it. You’ll sleep better.”

My words were greeted with a pillow planted directly in my face. Ashley said, “It sucks that you couldn’t get a signal at all with your phone, but you know at this point, I’m not sure calling the police will do much, especially since we don’t know how long this ‘malleable’ period lasts. From what you say, we need to convince Dr. Travers that what he’s doing is wrong and hope he’ll change us back.”

I shook my head fiercely, “No way. As soon as he brings us to his lab or whatever, we steal the serum and use it. I’m not getting stuck this way, Ashley. I’m not.”

Ashley sighed, “And that approach could regress you to a point where you might not even exist. We can’t just randomly start picking ourselves with needles. We have to see if we can reason with Dr. Travers. The way you explained it, it doesn’t sound like this is as easy as just taking a serum. It has to be prepared. That’s the dataset he’s talking about. The serum we were given is probably specific to each of us.”

I took Ashley by the shoulders and gently shook her, “Ashley, the people who have done this to us are fucking crazy. There’s no reasoning with them. We need to steal the serum and either threaten to use it on one of them or escape from here and give it to someone who can help us.”

Ashley didn’t seem fazed by my shaking, “I want out of here as much as you do, Ryan. But your plan is flawed. I’m really glad you were able to see the advantage of being Kaylee, at least for a moment, but do you think that a bunch of kids can overpower five adults? One or two yes, but five? So we get the needles from Dr. Travers, and we threaten to use them. What then?”

There was a brief pause, “I could see stealing them, but we need to know how to escape. You need to use that access card to explore more. If we have the needles and we are trapped here, they are useless. Here’s the problem. None of us have the dexterity to pull the plunger and actually hold it steady enough to reach a vein. And they know that. All we are going to do is piss them off.”

Ashley added delicately, “You said that Daniels was questioning the loyalty of Travers. Maybe there’s a chance we can talk to him. Explain that what he is doing is…well monstrous. If that doesn’t work, well then we can re-evaluate our options. Are you OK with that?”

I glared at Ashley, “You don’t have to talk to me like a fucking kid, Ashley. Your plan is better- it makes more sense. Do you want a fucking medal?”

Ashley sighed lightly, “It’s not about who came up with the best idea, Ryan. We’re not in competition. I’m not trying to match you squat for squat or anything.”

I replied caustically, “Is that what you think of me? Just some brainless dead lifter? Let me tell you something though, the way you were headed- well let’s just say there were a lot of cats in your future. Guys don’t like girls like you Ashley. Know-it-all, ball busters who think they are better than everyone else. Not to mention you were a goddamn femi-nazi man hater.”

Ashley said firmly, “Let’s get one thing straight, little sister. I do not hate nor did I ever hate men. I just have trust issues with them. Which is why when you pull stuff like this, and go against what we agreed before, I get mad.”

I shook my head, “So? I have trust issues with girls. Because of what Hannah did. I mean, you know, she was…”

Ashley interjected, “Special? You can’t blame your ex-girlfriend for wanting to leave. She wanted to go to school, and you didn’t. Relationships break up for less than that. You don’t exactly help those issues by sleeping around either. Or the unresolved issues with your mother. You really don’t think she would want to know where you are, Ryan? I mean she’s your mother. You talk about her like she abused you. I mean you don’t have to tell me-”

I shrugged, “It’s fine. No, she didn’t. When I was younger she was better though. She just worried about me, tried to turn me into this little momma’s boy. After Hannah though, the night I stole her car, she just ignored me a lot. Just like I did her when she was crying. And I never trusted her because she would always tell my dad about the stuff I was doing. He never thought it was a big deal.”

Ashley said softly, “It sounds like you didn’t communicate well.”

I nodded, “Like I said, it got worse as I got older, and especially after she sent me to that stupid private school. Goddamn that sucked. It was like we only did things together when my dad was there. By the time I was thirteen she was just letting me do my own thing. And she just cried. And cried. It was so annoying.”

Ashley replied, “I still think it’s really sad.”

There was something about Ashley’s voice, and despite its youthful timbre, it reminded me of Hannah’s on the day her cat died. It was a bizarre connection, but I realized that Hannah actually wanted to talk about it, without specifically telling me. To talk about our lives, our love, and our future. It was more than her cat. I had completely misread her emotions and her intentions. God, girls could be so emotional and cryptic! Why couldn’t they just punch something? Or have crazy sex?

Why couldn’t they be more like Monique? Still, I had to admit, Ashley's warmth and caring voice was something hard to ignore. I realized I kind of liked it. She was a lot like Hannah in that respect.

“I-I was wondering, you know- if you want. You said you don’t trust guys. Was it your boyfriend or something? I mean if you’re ready to tell me.”

There was a pause, and then a heavy sigh from the girl across from me. She reached out and clasped my hand, our tiny hands (Ashley’s with slightly longer fingers) seemingly merging together, as if establishing a powerful, unspoken bond. “It wasn’t an old boyfriend or anything like that. I know this is going to sound like some kind of stupid after-school special. But all the shit about trusting people no matter what, the dark and these bodies- it makes me remember too much what happened to me when I was first this age.”

She continued solemnly, “My Uncle Robert was a really nice guy…fuck this is stupid. I really thought I was over this.” I gently squeezed Ashley’s hand. It wasn’t something that came into my head as an idea, it was subconscious, however; the action surprised me. It was unlike me to show such emotion, even trapped within the emotional powder keg that was Kaylee. My simple gesture seemed to urge Ashley to continue. Was Ashley actually having a positive influence on me?

“So he was incredible. He’d take me out all the time. To museums and shopping. My parents loved it because it’d give them a break. I used to love it on Sunday mornings when he’d bring me to the science museum, and I’d get to see all the animal displays. Then we’d go for pancakes. I think I was about five at the time.”

Ashley squeezed my hand tightly, “Well this continued for probably two months, and I remember telling my mom I wanted to marry Uncle Robert- a lot of times. But then- then it got a bit weird. He wanted to pick me up from school this one time. And he got angry when I said I wanted to take the bus with my friends. “

She sighed heavily, “So I’m really sad. And I tell him that I don’t want him to be mad at me and I’ll do anything. I hate that feeling. He was the person I trusted most. I could tell him anything- even more than my mom. My parents were already fighting a bit, but it wasn’t really bad, so they went to the ‘doctor’ as they told me. I thought maybe I was getting a baby sister. But I found out much later that they were in counselling. So Uncle Robert, he becomes the de facto babysitter, right? My mom trusted her brother probably as much as I trusted him so it was a no brainer.”

The grip on my hand grew tighter, “I remember, it was after supper, and my mom and dad were at the ‘doctor’. Uncle Robert came over, and we coloured. It was a Little Mermaid colouring book. I can still see it. So he’s helping me get ready for bed, brushing my teeth and all that. And he asks me if I keep my promises. I say yes- of course. And he tells me that that he’s still sad about not getting to pick me up. And he wants to play this game-…he’s- he’s pulling down his pants. And he tells me. This is playing doctor. Like mommy and daddy.”

Ashley’s voice grew strained “I-I don’t need to tell you what he did. He turned the lights off, and I never wanted them off again. I didn’t tell my parents at first because I still wanted him to be my friend. Even though what he did made…me- it made me feel- just wrong. Bad. That’s why this is bullshit that this show is making us say, that parents, friends, relatives, that we can trust them no matter what. It’s garbage. You have no idea how hard it was for me to do those scenes.”

I asked in a tiny voice, “W-What happened to your uncle?”

Ashley’s voice firmed, “He went to jail. Got counselling. He apologized when I was an adult, but the damage was done. I put up walls that reached the sky after that. Even when I’m in a good relationship, a guy I really like- I think he’s going to cheat on me. I get super paranoid and sometimes I just break it off because I can’t take it. I hate to think that this one person who I trusted more than anyone could fuck me up so bad. I hate it. You have no idea, Ryan. It’s not fair…I-I”

The raven-haired little girl once again threw her arms around me, practically squeezing the life out of me. I felt a wetness on my shoulder. The girl buried her head into my chest, which sufficiently muffled her crying.

The outburst of emotion was contagious as memories of my own fractured childhood flooded back. For the first time in probably a year, I seriously thought about my mom. Goddamn Ashley, why did she have to bring up my mom? I thought about her potentially missing me, and feeling sad because of it. Feelings I had long since buried, trapped by adolescent angst and a life full of constant distractions, were allowed to escape. As my own tears started to gently fall, I hoped for an instant that she actually missed me.

***

It was three days later, and we still hadn’t established contact with Dr. Travers. I even managed to sneak into the storage room again, but I didn’t overhear anything. Plus, it was pitch black in the room, meaning the adjoining room was likely empty. I’ll admit, I didn’t get very far. Primal fear gripped me, the same way it had when I looked into the great beyond that stretched past the vent in the studio. The strange thing was, I knew what was there. In fact, I knew exactly what was there- filing cabinets, a key on the lowest one, some shelves and a vent leading to the room where I overhead Dr. Travers and Ms. Daniels divulge their plan like clueless super villains.

My mind, however, freely created a host of creatures that might be waiting, maws dripping with fresh blood from the last child that ventured into the dark. I stood paralyzed by fear, my bravery fleeing as easily as dry sand displaced by a gentle wind. I didn’t even fumble for a light switch, instead- I fled back to the bedroom. I didn’t tell Ashley about it. I was too embarrassed.

Once the third day had arrived, as some sort of potential reaper for our formal selves, we grew anxious. If Dr. Travers was telling the truth then this supposed malleable period might soon be ending and with it, any hope of turning back. Shooting had continued, and our existence had been reduced to long, tedious hours spouting nonsense. Ms. Daniels tried to get us to shoot even longer, but we were all too tired. At the end of that third day, eager for our beds and thankful for the end of our forced play acting, Ashley and I noticed something extremely unusual.

The third door in the corridor, the one with the key marks, was wide open.

Ashley and I shared surprised looks. In those three days, Ashley and I had grown closer. I couldn’t exactly tell her to stop being a pussy or to grow up. She had experienced real childhood trauma, and as shitty as my life had been, I had never gone through what she had. Her fear of men made perfect sense. I hadn’t teased her about the night light since the first time I flicked it on for her. Why was she willing to trust Travers though, was he really our only option?

I peered in the doorway and saw steps. I reached out and Ashley’s hand was already there. We really had formed an important bond. Plus, she kind of kept me from doing anything really stupid. Like trying to take down five adults and stab them with needles. I hadn’t been close to a girl like that since Hannah. Instead of a sexual feeling, when we touched hands, I had a sense of warmth, a pleasant buzzing in my head and a shiver up my spine. It was a comfort- a trust.

The doorway led to metal steps down a darkened stairwell. Again, the monsters appeared, this time I imagined zombies below, waiting to tear into our necks, turning us into the living dead. I took a deep breath and told myself zombies weren’t real, and if they were- I’d blow their brain out. The humour and the imagery worked and the fears thankfully fled.

We crept down the stairwell slowly, Ashley squeezing my hand firmly at times. Emergency lights flicked on, as they sensed our presence. Just as we reached the end, we heard a voice.

“Fascinating. I never would have expected this. The two of you act like sisters. When you arrived here, you were bitter enemies. Although I suppose you have a common goal. Escape. Comfort in the knowledge that you are experiencing a similar event. Even lacking the controls I instituted, the two of you have really become close. See, this is the sort of important data I am missing with all of you working on that show.”

Travers.

There wasn’t a modicum of emotion to his voice which matched an equally blank expression when we finally saw his face. I pulled my hand away from Ashley’s, and while this would have amused Ms. Daniels, Dr. Travers remained stone faced. He was dishevelled, even more so than before with a thick beard and a heavy, acrid sweat smell. His lab coat was stained, and so were his shoes- a grimy pair of sneakers. Still, his eyes were vibrant, and within them, I saw a man who was calculating and focused. Just a brief glance showed the intelligence residing there, but there was something else too. The way he looked at us made me think of how my science teacher peered at the foetal pig before it was dissected. It was morbid curiosity.

“Ms. Daniels doesn’t understand how important it is. She’s lost within that puerile television show. Now Mr. Sullivan and Miss Perkins, I’m pleased to see you. Or do you prefer Kaylee and Madison now?” His question wasn’t asked with a hint of malice or teasing. It seemed legitimate.

I replied quickly, “Ryan is fine. And she likes Ashley- I’m sure.” I needed that sliver of power because the only advantage I had over Ashley was in my bravery. She never would have been able to crawl through the vent in the dark. Only holding my hand was she able to descend the stairwell.

Ashley nodded, and Dr. Travers said, “I must say how disappointed I am that I haven’t really been able to study your transition. Especially you, Ryan.” He said my name as if it was a hard to pronounce foreign word.

I clenched what muscles I had, my soft and slender frame practically pulsating in anger. Ashley put a hand on my shoulder and then turned to Dr. Travers, “Is that why you’ve brought us here, to study us? Our reactions to this? You should know that we know what’s going on here. The show, the drugs, and the government. We know everything. But we don’t think you are like Daniels. We know about the malleable period too.”

The man’s face, hidden behind a busy unkempt beard, did not move a muscle. “Oh? And how am I not like her?”

I said, “Well for one- you seemed to have an issue with the plan. The pharmaceutical companies and drugging children. And Ms. Daniels said you had morals.”

Dr. Travers replied with an eerie evenness, “Ms. Daniels is actually the one guided by morals or a lack of them. A code. I do not see the world that way. All creatures, be they animal, insect and even human have a purpose. Within them, the physical- bone and tissue and to most the intangible- a series of wonderful formulae, a path to an enlightened state. The essence of perfection. You may not realize it now, but you have received a wonderful boon.”

Ashley said firmly, “Don’t help her erase our memories. How can you study our reactions if we have no memories? Then we would be like real children. What would be the purpose of that?”

Dr. Travers intoned, “To play god? To actually surpass this false creation that preys on the vulnerable and the weak, lining pockets and filling minds with ideology that guides, shapes and in the end controls their existence. Chattel- this is what they are. In you, I’ve actually bettered the formula that created humanity.”

I turned to Ashley and said, “OK. This isn’t going to work. This guy is as crazy as fuck.”

Dr. Travers stepped in front of the stairwell, effectively blocking our exit. “Don’t you want to know what all of this was for though? The television show was only about confirming that you could actually be taken seriously as real children. That the entire world will actually see you as what you will, in time, eventually become. This was never about reducing the homeless population or the prison population. Or even drugging future generations of children. All of it an ends to a means to improve the divine ambrosia I’ve given you. I don’t particularly agree with this ultimate end, but it is of little concern to me.”

He added, “As long as I can continue to receive the funds and the subjects required to further the perfection of it.” I heard the distinct sound of heels making contact with metal stairs.

“Ms. Daniels was quite right in her response to you, Ryan, when she said you would be going home to your mother and father. You see the final step in Ms. Daniels mad scheme is adoption. More than this though- this is adoption specializing in designer children. I’m looking forward to the challenge.” He motioned to me, “You were a particular challenge, and it took nearly a month, but I found the perfect combination. I will continue to enjoy these challenges.”

The heels were descending quickly. Dr. Travers said, “So, with the data I will collect from the two of you and your companions, I will determine how to wipe your memories clean, reduce you to toddlers, or even infants and fund my research with your sale.”

Ashley shouted, “Why tell us all of this? Y-You are giving us no hope, w-we’ll fight you! I won’t let you do this to us!”

I was surprised by Ashley’s candour, and even more shocked that I hadn’t blurted it out. It just seemed too hard to believe, like something you’d read in the most outlandish story. I hadn’t come to grips that it was actually happening to me.

“That’s an excellent question, Reginald. Why would you tell them this? This will affect how cooperative they are. In fact, I don’t doubt now that they will fight us, as Madison suggests. Even though it would be silly, considering how weak they are.” Ms. Daniels shook her head and adopted her usual posture, hands on hips, while grinding her heel into the floor.

I blinked, “You’ve basically told us that you are going to use us and then kill us. I mean who we are now. She’s right- it makes no sense.”

Dr. Travers replied, as he stared into Ms. Daniels’ eyes, “It makes perfect sense. I wasn’t receiving the time I need to study their transition nor the proper uncontrolled environment to acquire the dataset required to perfect my formula. Now you will have no choice but to give it to me if you want your television filming to continue. I will have to determine how to wipe their memories, but for that, I require the proper datasets.”

He said matter-of-factly, “I’ve exposed your hand to all the players, Ms. Daniels. They will never agree to work like this, knowing their final fate. Now, will you give me the time I require to conduct a proper study and introduce them into the uncontrolled environment?”

Ms. Daniels said brusquely, “You haven’t given me much of a choice. But you risk your funding being pulled, Reginald. The only reason I’m agreeing is-”

The man neither smiled nor grimaced, and I questioned if he even blinked. His voice equally without emotion never sounded unpleasant or joyful, each word was said with robotic cadence, “There are two obvious reasons. The first is that yes, you risk your funding being pulled. And the second, you may lose access to the fountain of youth.”

Ms. Daniels nodded, “I really think we’ve said enough. The children don’t need to know anything more about this. I’d like to speak to you upstairs, Reginald. Girls, it’s late- I want you to go right to bed.”

“But don’t you want to know what is coursing through your veins, Ms. Daniels? What has literally turned back the clock?”

There was still an absence of emotion in the man’s voice, but his body language spoke of a near bursting excitement. Uncharacteristically, the man’s hands twitched, his fingers wiggling in constant motion. He looked like a child who had the world’s largest secret, and would burst without spilling the beans.

Ms. Daniels sighed heavily, “You’ve already said enough. As it is, our stars are not going to be very useful over the next few days. I suggest we go forward with my initial plan. Now girls, it is really time for bed.”

I stood there unmoving. The doctor still blocked our path. I had thought about grabbing one of the needles, but I realized the folly in that action. It was probably more complex than just poking someone with a needle. I knew that jabbing someone with a needle could kill them.

I used to have discussions with Eve about her job, but it mostly involved me asking her questions about different scenes from movies where the killer used medical equipment to murder their victims (I really watched too many movies). Eve was like my very own myth-buster, but one myth turned out to be true. I thought of this as I looked at a series of needles. Eve explained to me that needles filled with air could potentially stop the victim’s heart. I couldn’t remember what she called it, but somehow I doubted killing one of our captors would help our situation.

Still, knowing how we changed could be lifesaving. I wasn’t ready to give up, even though we were basically facing a gang-land style execution of our very selves. They had us lined up against the wall, and the Tommy gun was primed- they only had to squeeze the trigger to let the bullets fly.

“Dr. Travers, I want to know how you did it. Please tell us.”

I glared at Ashley without even knowing why. Was it because she asked first? She was like that kid in class who got their hand up just before you. Or worse, the one who just blurts out the answers. I didn’t always hate school, and I did drift in and out- but when my attention was caught, and I wanted to share my opinion or give an answer to show I could be smart- those kids just ruined everything.

“Ms. Perkins, I’m not surprised you were the one who asked. You’ve demonstrated a thirst for knowledge, and a desire to improve yourself. And you’ve imparted this to Mr. Sullivan. It’s an incredible contrast to what you see in the boys’ room. The girls practicing their cutting, their numbers and their letters, while the boys sit entranced by the television and their games.”

I said, “They have video games in there? You gave us an old Gameboy. How is that fair?” Ashley gave me a dirty look and cleared her throat, motioning to Dr. Travers.

I shook my head, “I get a bunch of stupid dolls. A pink corvette and some princess dresses. I want an Xbox or something.”

Ashley elbowed me sharply in the ribs, “Uh, Kaylee- let’s listen to what the doctor has to say before we have to go to bed, remember how important it is?”

Ms. Daniels smiled as Ashley fell back into character. I sighed heavily, again realizing that Ashley was right- we did need that information. My having an Xbox shouldn’t have been high on my priority list. Still, I worried we were falling too easily into our roles, especially mine as the meek and mostly obedient younger sister.

Dr. Travers continued to wring his hands excitedly. Once he spoke, his voice actually carried with it a measure of emotion, although it had the same level of excitement as a bland instructional video, it was better than the test pattern voice he usually had. “I was one of the biologists who worked on the original Human Genome Project. We worked to map the genome, which in essence, would enable us to understand the exact formulation of a human being. While doing this, I discovered a regenerative gene. At the time, I was comparing the genetic structure of a child, probably about Kaylee’s age and an elderly man. I noticed that the gene was dormant in the man.”

“In tests on lab mice, we discovered that when engaged the gene could actually heal damaged tissue, but it was limited. It couldn’t heal lost limbs or damaged heart tissue. But after conducting some secret experimentation, I discovered that infusing the aged blood stem cells with the regenerative gene it actually rejuvenated the cells. The results were incredible. The mice became physically younger. This is when I branched off from the project and sought out human subjects. Many others on the project said that the treatment wasn’t ready for human testing, but I disagreed. So a small number of us left.”

Ashley asked, “Don’t they usually try and perfect something like that before using it on human subjects?”

Dr. Travers nodded, “Usually, but I prefer not to be bound by such limitations. I wanted to be the first to develop an anti-aging treatment. But it went beyond that. After seeing thousands of different combinations that make up a human being, and the god given mistakes, I became fascinated with creating the absolute perfect human being and removing those deficiencies. I sought out government grants to continue my research, but I was initially denied. Still, there were those with ties to the government who had the means to get my research approved. I had my first test subjects within a month.”

Ashley said, “The homeless and the convicts. Did any of them die?”

Dr. Travers shook his head, “No, but some were rendered into a vegetative state. I was still perfecting the dosage required. Most of them became children with the same disorders that plagued them as adults. The convicts given to me were those with degenerative diseases. Essentially, they were costing the prison system millions. They couldn’t be killed because they weren’t on death row. While the gene couldn’t cure cancer or heart disease, it could remove degenerative diseases associated with ageing, like Alzheimer’s. Not only could it stimulate the body’s natural defences making them virtually immune to childhood disease, and remove unfortunate allergies, but it could also create the most physically attractive specimens.”

It all made sense now, our completely symmetrical features, the shape of our eyes, the glistening golden hair and the shining raven hair, but even more than that it explained Ashley’s peanut allergy, or lack thereof, and my ability to sing.

Ashley said, her eyes opening in shock, “But those poor people had families, people who loved them. Just like us. You basically killed them.”

Ms. Daniels interjected, “They were criminals and transients. They offered nothing to society. Why keep individuals on the public dime rotting in prison? These were people who had life sentences. The worst that society had to offer. The homeless take up space. Shelters take up precious government resources. Dr. Travers gave them a new lease on life and a new purpose. Just as he has done for you. And once the method is perfected and the specialized adoption agency functions as it should, this country’s homeless problem will be solved.”

Dr. Travers nodded, “As will the issue of prison overcrowding.”

Ashley asked, “What about the ones who are falsely convicted? What about them? It’s too late for them.”

Dr. Travers replied, “They are unfortunate victims, but in the end, they have served their purpose. Like cadavers for medical students. They have furthered the experiment with their unique datasets.”

Ashley shouted, “That’s monstrous! I-I can’t believe either of you could be so heartless. These are human beings. There’s laws against this! I remember from my psych classes that there are rules for experimenting on humans.”

I had to this point remained an angry observer in the dialogue, yet I had also fallen easily into the role of Kaylee, the younger sister who allows the older to do her talking. When I did speak, it was in a squeak, “W-Why was I turned into Kaylee? I don’t get it either. How could something that makes us younger change our gender too?”

Dr. Travers nodded, “An excellent question, Mr. Sullivan. While mapping the genome, I also determined the distinct differences between males and females. There is a gene that when engaged tells the body to become male or female. It was actually surprisingly simple once discovered. The gene is particularly active during puberty. It is actually like a light switch. If it is on, the body is female. If it is turned off, however, the body gradually takes on more male characteristics. In testing, female mice actually developed testes. Of course this would result in less than spectacular results in adult humans, men with female characteristics and vice versa, but when combined with the regression therapy and returning the body to a pre-puberty state, it allows not only a complete reshaping into a younger form, but it also allows the body to change gender. By regressing the body the switch resets, and with that switch now engaged in Mr. Sullivan, he will develop as normally as you, Ms. Perkins.”

Ashley said firmly, “That still doesn’t answer Ryan’s question.”

Ms. Daniels said, “In order to know whether the kinks in the formula have been worked out, we had to see if others, i.e. the people who would be adopting you, would believe you were real children. So, the perfect proving ground for that was television. I was aware of his research, and I had the backing of the network.”

I blinked, “Wait…other people know this is happening? And they aren’t doing anything?”

The world where the United States as the protector, a place to follow dreams, but most importantly a place where freedom was paramount, was crumbling. My dad had served his country, and in the end, given his life, for this?

Ms. Daniels replied, “All those who need to know are aware of this. Within both main political parties. As for why they aren’t doing anything? Because all of them are making money or receiving something beneficial from the arrangement. Broadcasting companies own media conglomerates, so the stories are quickly killed. There’s little reason but to accept this, children. It will make it easier on you in the end.”

Dr. Travers said, “I believe you still haven’t answered the original question, Ms. Daniels. Simply put, Mr. Sullivan was chosen because there are far more male prisons facing overcrowding and more male homeless. Ms. Daniels’ adoption agency will cater to the upper crust of society, those willing to buy perfect children at the right price. Many of them will want little girls. To meet this demand, Mr. Sullivan became the first test subject.”

Ms. Daniels smiled, “And he is the perfect test subject because he was as they say a ‘red-blooded male’. An alpha male. In the website survey, we asked prospective parents to describe their perfect child. Most of them indicated they wanted sweet, timid and feminine girls. After all, if they are paying a million dollars per child…we want to give them what they want. He was chosen because we wanted to see if it was possible to take someone who you called “King of the Assholes” and turn him into Kaylee, the quintessential little girl.” As much as Ms. Daniels said she didn’t want to talk about her plan previously, she was definitely enjoying watching my shocked look.

Ashley asked, “Why do I still look like myself, just younger? And Ryan- well he looks like a completely different person. His hair colour is different.”

Ms. Daniels responded matter-of-factly, “An easy one. The survey revealed the most desired hair colour for girls was blonde. With blue eyes. While I am sure he would have made a pretty little red-headed girl, only a very small percentage of our clientele actually wanted that. We have to give our customers what they want.”

Dr. Travers added, “It should be noted that many sperm banks here and in the United Kingdom have refused to accept donations from those with predominantly red-haired genes. So, do not think of this operation as prejudice. Look at society itself, and how it treats these individuals. We cannot change that, so as Ms. Daniels stated, we must give them what they want.”

I remembered back in 2008, National Kick-a-ginger-day. Since I had brown hair mixed with red, I wasn’t really a part of it, but I used to get the odd “Day-walker” reference thanks to an old episode of South Park. My fists usually met insults like that.

Ashley sighed deeply, “So you are going to wipe our memories now. What about our families and our friends? You know you are basically killing us, right? You don’t have any problem with that?”

Ms. Daniels said, “Yes, but you’ll have an upbringing vastly superior to your previous one. These are individuals who can afford to pay one million dollars for you. Think of it like a wonderful new opportunity.”

Ashley said, “We’ll probably be adopted by some celebrity who wants to use us as accessories. Some Megan Fox wannabe socialite who doesn’t want to ruin her perfect body by getting pregnant. And have you thought about the possibility of human trafficking? Especially little girls. Are you screening these people?”

I thought too that maybe people who couldn’t have children would be interested too, but I didn’t want to put a positive spin on what was really identity death and potential slavery.

Ms. Daniels nodded, “The agency will screen the parents as rigorously as any other adoption agency. Now, it is really time for bed. I want you to think about this as a wonderful new opportunity. If you agree to continue filming the show, you might avoid being regressed further and having your memories wiped. I was serious about the show potentially being your avenue to stardom, but in order for that to happen- you need to forget everything you heard tonight.”

She added finally, “And I don’t want to see either of you out of character ever again. You will become Kaylee and Madison. One way or another.”

***

“I don’t trust them. Either way we lose. You become Kaylee, and I become Madison. I think they are going to wipe our memories.”

I nodded. Ashley and I had returned to our bedroom after the lengthy conversation with Dr. Travers and Ms. Daniels. I was still in a state of shock, that the country I loved actually functioned this way. Who knew exactly? And why hadn’t they done something to stop it? I understood that it was all capitalism, the desire to make as much money as possible, but on the backs, and the very minds of others? This shocked me to my core.

Even more than that, it was not lost on me that my quest, or as Greg would put it my shallow expedition, to find the perfect girl, with the perfect body and face, and yes, mind, had led me down a path where I would actually grow into her. Based on what Dr. Travers said, I was genetically flawless, the best genes possible. I would become the very object of my desire. If I hadn’t exhibited the qualities Travers and Daniels sought to remove from me, the so-called alpha male tendencies, I likely never would have been chosen to lose my gender.

I expected for Ashley it was easier. She had already been a girl, and for her to grow up again would be less of a strain. For me, my entire identity would be overwritten.

I said, “Maybe it will just be easier. You know if they wipe our memories.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips, but the part of me that wanted to give up, to avoid the unpleasantness of watching Kaylee take precedence, was powerful.

I added, “Then you won’t ever remember what happened to you with your uncle. I mean isn’t there a part of you that just thinks? OK. We are fucked. What’s the point?”

Ashley said, “Ryan, this isn’t a game where you can just take your ball and go home. We can’t let them get away with this. We just can’t. I don’t believe that people, once they found out about this, would turn a blind eye. There are people in this world who care about us. My dad, even though I don’t get along with him, and we haven’t spoken in like a year, he would want to know where his daughter is. And your mom would want to know the same about you.”

It all made sense now, Ms. Daniels had chosen individuals with few friends and few family connections. Still, weren’t Eve and Greg looking for me? Had they filed a missing persons report?

She continued, “It’s not only that. But you need to prove to yourself that you can succeed in something. Do this. If you can escape from this elaborate, and frankly insane trap we are in, you’ll have proved to yourself, to me, to anyone who ever called you a quitter that you aren’t like that. Yeah, maybe you’ll be stuck as Kaylee, but at least it will be on your terms. As simple as Travers makes it sound, I’m not a biologist, and I don’t know the first thing about the human genome. But doesn’t it bother you that they are doing this to us? Is this really how Ryan Sullivan would act?”

I sighed heavily, “Yeah. It is.” I felt a heavy weight in my shoulders, as if the entire world were trying to pull me toward the floor. I sagged down.

Ashley said, “I’m doing this with or without you. Tomorrow I’ll take your key card and go exploring myself. I’m going to find a way out of here.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “The rooms I was in, they were almost pitch black. H-How can you do that?” Oh god, I really sounded like Kaylee.

Ashley replied, “Because it’s our only choice. I’m not going to let them get away with this. Are you with me?”

I said unsteadily, “Yeah.”

I climbed down to my bunk, closed my eyes and fell asleep. The next morning when I woke up, Ashley was gone.

Author's Note: Wow. Thank you for the incredible response. Despite some of you having your reservations about the story and its characters, you have taken the time to post your comments. And the comments were so insightful and detailed. I am really blown away. I now have a much better idea what might be bothering people about the story. I had no idea that it would impact people in such a way, triggering them, returning them to traumatic events. I didn’t think of the transformed adults as real children, but those who have experienced something similar are likely reliving it.

You are completely right about Ryan. He is deplorable, sexist and ignorant, and an awful human being, but he is also human. I get that you can’t relate to him, but I have always been fascinated with failed human beings, delving into what made them that way. Ryan is obviously intimidated by girls like Jessica and Ashley because he lacks confidence. He goes after the vulnerable girls because they are easier to get into bed but also because he thinks they are the only girl he can get. This story is about rebuilding a human being from the ground up, second chances and personal growth. Will Ryan continue to frustrate readers? Yes, absolutely. But that is his character. This is who he has become, and it will take time (this is a novel after all, not nearly as lengthy as the Sidereus Prophecy but still a book) to see him become someone else.

And finally, for those concerned for how bleak the story seems, it does lighten considerably. It is still mature in tone, and it will be grounded in realism, but it won’t be quite so creepy. I hope you will continue to read and comment, but most of all- enjoy!

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 10

My first instinct was to hide underneath the covers and remain there. Ashley’s absence was potentially disastrous because like the night light, she was the anchor that kept me from drifting toward surrender. It would be so easy to accept my fate, to accept being Kaylee- the same way I left everything else, the restaurant, acting, Hannah- it was easier than having to deal with any of the emotions that went along with it.

As Musica prattled on, urging me to get out of bed, my mind waffled back and forth between submission and outright defiance. A part of me desperately wanted to prove that Dr. Travers’ serum was a failure, that Ryan Sullivan would never become weak-willed, timid Kaylee. When he saw the defiance in me, the failure of his masterwork, would he show emotion? Would his face sag, his shoulders slump in defeat? I vacillated between the two mindsets, as Ashley’s voice played in an endless loop. “You aren’t a failure. Because you haven’t ever even tried.”

To Ashley, trying meant actually dealing with the breadth of emotions that accompanied difficult choices. I managed to pull myself from the warm embrace of my covers, quickly tearing them off and depositing my socked feet on the floor. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, and then visited the washroom. By the time I was finished, the superstar makeover closet had moved, again revealing the exit to this room, but only to the rest of what was an elaborate prison.

I wasn’t sure that Ms. Daniels could be trusted. Would she really allow me to keep my memories if I continued to play Kaylee on the show? She had earlier teased by telling us that we could be stars beyond the Hermie show, but that was before we learned the exact details of their insane plot. I went over different options in my head, one of which involved returning to my phone trying to find a signal and calling the police.

Maybe they could force Dr. Travers to undo the changes, to flick off the supposed switch that had sent me spiralling into prepubescent femininity. That, however, would require me to brave the dark again. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t afraid of the dark- that nothing in there could hurt me. There were no beasts, creatures wanting to rend me limb from limb, just filing cabinets, tables, chairs and my phone.

I went through the motions as Kaylee that day, simply playing my part. All of the scenes with Ashley were put on hold, but there were plenty with just Kaylee and Hermie. While Hermie played his part, I noticed a distinct sadness in his voice. I also noticed plenty of chatter in his head. There were two separate voices, but the thick rubber head piece muffled the words. It was as if two people were having a conversation with their hands over their mouths. Still, despite this, filming continued.

Two days later, Ashley still hadn’t returned, and I still hadn’t managed to find the courage to return to the storage room. I realized how instrumental Ashley had been in prodding me to explore. The only saving grace was the fact that I didn’t need the night light to sleep, but only barely.

“You’re fucking dead, man! I got you around the corner. You aren’t playing fair.”

It was day three without Ashley, and I was sitting quietly in the cafeteria. Devon and Mark had burst into the room, wielding plastic guns that looked surprisingly real. The only obvious difference between the AR-15s they carried and the real kind was a small piece of orange plastic at the mouth of the gun.

Mark shouted, “I got my wall up! I get three of them, remember?”

Devon shook his head, “That’s fucking cheap! No way. I didn’t agree to walls. I got you. I’m not playing with you if you fuck around like that.”

I continued to sit quietly, observing the two boys as they argued over the trivialities of their game. Mark, seemingly realizing he couldn’t win with Devon, turned his attention to me, “Hey Sullivan, I thought we agreed you’d always take the pink cup.”

I glared at him and said, “I got here first. Look guys, I think we need to talk about this. You guys are acting more and more like kids. Maybe you need to do what Ashley and me were doing. Every night we’d talk about who we actually are. You know, to preserve our real selves.”

Mark snatched the blue cup in front of me and deposited the lone pink cup in its place. “You are sounding more and more like that bitch Ashley. And we aren’t about to have some pussy girl talk session. I know who I am. We are just making the most of a shitty situation.”

I shook my head, “But you guys haven’t done anything except really petty stuff. Like unplug cameras or whatever.”

Devon shouted petulantly, “And what have you done exactly, Sullivan? You seem to be going along with this just like we are. And we’ve fought a lot. You just haven’t seen it. We’re just getting out our stress, you know? It’s not a big deal. Same as the video games back in the room.”

Mark said, “If you quit being such a whiny bitch about everything maybe we’ll invite you back to play. Me and Devon are halfway through the original Resident Evil. I mean we would be way further along if this asshole didn’t break our one controller.”

Devon said angrily, “It was my turn. You’d been playing for hours.”

I said unsteadily, “Guys, look- I know this is going to sound like pussy talk. But you should probably stop playing that game so much. And ...”

I was interrupted by twin ‘blasts’ from the AR-15s. Despite the fact that the AR-15 was an assault rifle and not a shotgun, the boys still made obnoxious explosion sounds. Mark said, “Oh look Sullivan, your pretty head is all blown up. Guess you can’t say anything right?”

I knew that Devon, and particularly Mark, were immature, but their level of immaturity was shocking. They seemed to care way more about having fun than actually escaping. I wasn’t sure I could trust them either, so I hadn’t told them what transpired with Ms. Daniels and Dr. Travers. Still, without Ashley, I would need their help.

I said, “Hey, don’t you care about anything other than having fun? Is that what you guys are doing between takes?” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Listen guys, I’ve got an access key. I found our phones, and if I get more time, I might be able to find a way out of here, or at least a signal to call the police.”

Mark’s eyes widened in surprise, while a cruel smirk formed, “So why haven’t you done it yet? Cause you’re fucking scared. That’s why. You should give it to us.”

Devon nodded, “Yeah. Where are you hiding it? And how long have you had it? And why the fuck didn’t you tell us about it before? You don’t trust us, Sullivan?”

I shook my head rapidly, feeling immediately pressured to divulge everything. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to make sure I had something before I told you guys. Like a way out of here or at least access to the phones. They are in the room behind us.”

The boys converged on me like hunters on a frightened deer, but I had no trees to provide cover, no deep forest to escape to- no, I was trapped. Mark said, “You know more, Sullivan. Tell us everything you fucking know. Everything.”

Against my better judgment (which wasn’t particularly sound to begin with), I told them everything, from the original plot to the final stage- the specialized adoption agency.

Devon said, “So if I’m getting this right, they’re gonna erase our memories, and when they are done, they’re going to sell us to some rich people. No fucking way.”

I said, “I think that’s why they took Ashley. They are probably doing some experiment on her.”

Mark said, “OK, Sullivan, here’s what we do. We take your card, we get our phones, and we get the fuck out of here.” Incredibly, all mention of their previous game or the video game waiting for them was gone. The boys looked incredibly focused.

I frowned, “What about Ashley? I’m not leaving her here.”

Mark replied, “Forget about that bitch, Sullivan. It’s just us guys now. Now where’s that card?”

Mark looked at me eagerly, the same way our old basset hound Duke used to eye a thick, juicy steak. My mom hated that dog, but she didn’t understand what made Duke so great, whether it was his constant slobbering, the way he would knock over little kids or how he would pee when he got too excited. Either way, he was the perfect dog for a kid who had to move constantly, fiercely loyal and a great playmate. When he died, it was one of the only times I ever remember seeing my dad cry.

He didn’t even cry at his dad’s funeral or his mom’s.

I replied, “And what exactly are we going to do out there looking like this? What if we end up in an orphanage or something? I mean I can’t exactly go home to my mom. I guess I’ve got some friends I could go to though.”

Devon nodded, “I kind of agree with Ryan in a way. I mean if we tell somebody what happened to us, how do we know they aren’t gonna make us into a science experiment or something like that? Or yeah, there’s a chance they don’t believe us and they put us in an orphanage. And that means we are surrounded by kids our age. We’ll regress. You know- really start thinking like kids. Yeah we’ll have our memories still, but they won’t be worth shit if we’re these stupid kids.”

I couldn’t help but notice earlier the level of immaturity both of were showing. I knew they were assholes, and while they would probably have made great drinking buddies or wingmen, they were lousy people to plan an intricate escape with because I couldn’t trust them, especially Mark.

Mark said, “What if they are coming for us right now to take us down to the laboratory with Ashley? Here we’ve got a chance to escape, and Sullivan is acting like a fucking pussy. Little shit has had the card for like a week, and he’s done fuck-all with it. I would have been out of here in a second.”

Devon shook his head and pointed to the vent, “It looks pretty dark there, man. You think you can get in there without pissing your pants?”

Mark shook his head, “I’ll fucking kill you if you tell anyone.”

Devon grinned, his eyes showing clear intent for boyish mayhem, “Sure, I won’t tell Sullivan that you needed the night light. Two nights in a row.”

Mark shouted, “I kept hearing these fucked up sounds. Like this constant scraping metal against metal. And the sink was dripping. It reminded me of something. I’m not using it tonight. No fucking way.”

The grin never left Devon’s face, “Sure, man. Well I didn’t hear nothing. So what is it, your imagination or something? Fuck, man- you are losing it.”

Mark said, “Oh yeah? Am I losing it the same way you are with your crying? You’re more of a chick than Sullivan here.”

Devon reached out an accusatory finger, pointed squarely at Mark, and exclaimed, “It hurt like hell when you hit me in the jaw when we were playing football. And I saw you crying after Daniels pulled you by the ear when she found out you were pulling the cables.”

As I watched the exchange, I realized something. Both of these supposed men were acting like children.

Mark quickly snapped out of his prepubescent stupor. ‘OK, Sullivan. Time to lead us out of here. Now you are going in that vent, or we are taking that card from you, and leaving you here to play science experiment with Travers.”

Despite the threat, I agreed with Mark. It was time to show my bravery and lead the others to their phones, and potentially, to their escape. We couldn’t help Ashley, but we could call someone who could. I figured that if we crawled around in the vents long enough, we would find a room with at least one window, which might get us a signal, and our salvation.

I nodded and got up from the table, leading the boys through the storage room grate. With others the darkness was powerless to stop my progression, and while I didn’t particularly like Devon and Mark, their presence dispersed the monsters that attempted to jump from my now boundless imagination into reality.

I retrieved my phone, while Mark and Devon did the same. I knew that it was useless to turn it on immediately, as the lack of signal would kill what little battery I had left. Mark and Devon stayed close together, even as Devon tried to pull closer to me as we entered the next vent, Mark increased his pace to match Devon’s.

The room where Travers and Daniels had unknowingly revealed their plan yielded nothing except for a bunch of computers and a set of whiteboards covered with incomprehensible calculations. I knew enough from high school biology to recognize DNA strands. I pulled my charger out, plugged it in a nearby power socket and quickly took pictures of the whiteboards.

The other two remained silent as my phone rapidly captured the contents of the whiteboards. I thought I caught a hint of a smile on Devon’s face. I was lucky to stumble across the power bar as I was searching near the computer, but the near pitch black room made it difficult to see anything, let alone an expression.

Devon managed to find another vent, and he took the lead, with Mark still following him like a lost puppy dog. Emergency flood lights erased the dark as we exited into a corridor much like the one that led to my formerly shared bedroom.

Devon said, “Sullivan, give me your key.”

I handed it over without issue, and while I was momentarily shocked how quickly I had given up my only advantage, I had little time to process it- Devon had managed to open a set of doors at the end of the corridor.

The doors flung open, but as they did, the light died, bathing us in less than comforting darkness. Seconds later, I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. It sounded like someone dragging a massive butcher knife across metal floor grates. At least that is the image my mind created.

I shone my phone at the floor. Beneath my dainty feet lay row upon row of metal floor gratings. My heart lurched in my chest feeling like a live grenade, threatening to explode outward. The scraping sound grew closer. On top of this, I could a faint dripping, the steady tink-tink-tink of a leaky faucet draining into a metal basin.

Devon shouted, “Fuck, Mark! Stay together!”

I heard footsteps, and I felt around for Devon, but both of them were gone. It was at this point, I simply started running, headlong into the dark. Every step caused a clanging underneath, which seemed to echo incessantly in my ears. My heart continued to leap in my chest, as I felt not only the vulnerability of my small form, but a return to a primal and uncontrollable fear.

I plunged through yet another set of doors into what had become eternal darkness. Petrified, I flicked on my phone, casting a dull yet heavenly glow. The power saver mode wouldn’t allow much light, but it was enough to carefully make my way through the room. It looked like a lighting storage and repair area, with dozens of studio lights piled against the wall.

I exited into another room, and by this point, the scraping sound was distant, and I couldn’t even hear the leaky faucet. The door opened to a familiar sight, but it was the one sliver of sanity in this madhouse. I was in the room where I was first interviewed for the Hermie the Hippo show. The emergency power flood lights were back, so I was able to see the Hermie posters lining the wall, and the cameras. Shit. I quickly flung myself against the wall, back into the shadows untouched by the flood lights.

I knew that beyond these doors lay security and beyond that- freedom. I crept along the wall slowly, climbing over chairs while keeping a close eye on the camera. Luckily, it wasn’t moving. The blond woman who conducted the interview, whose name I never learned, would have found equal competition in Ms. Daniels now. I was pleased that despite the importance of focus in the situation that I could still imagine the two of them in bikinis- or nothing. A little smile formed as I imagined both of them working out, their trim bodies glistening. I had nothing down there to react, but I could still fantasize, and most importantly, I still found girls hot as hell.

While some no doubt would call my fantasizing sexist (probably Ashley) or inappropriate to the situation, it actually gave me courage. I soldiered on and pushed through the door into the security area, where incredibly, no one was on guard. A small waiting area sat across from the security desk, which was enclosed with thick, likely bullet-proof glass. Again, I remained locked to the shadows, sneaking to places untouched by the flood lights.

Once I reached the waiting area, I could see a corridor and something better than a half-naked or even fully naked Monique - a lit EXIT sign. I grinned widely and picked up my pace. At the end of the corridor was a small welcome area, but unlike every other room in the compound, it was distinctly different- there was a window.

I tried the door, but it was locked from the inside. One of the special access key slots was positioned just to the left of the handle, and unfortunately, Devon still had mine. Still, right next to the window was an outlet, which I immediately used to charge my phone.

I held the now giant phone in my hands. When I could use it like a tablet, I had little difficulty, meaning that taking pictures was a cinch, but typing on it required me to actually sit the phone on the floor like a mini-computer. While I waited for it to connect to the network, I started typing messages to Greg, Eve, and even Jessica, although I expected she would be mad at me for never texting her about the cancelled date. Thankfully, I could type the messages offline, but they would send once I connected.

The phone took forever to locate a network, but finally, it connected with one solid, glorious bar.

Despite this fact, three notifications popped up on the phone, all stating the same thing: “Message failed to send.” I tried again, but I achieved the same result. The phone still showed one bar. I quickly keyed in 9-1-1, but the call wouldn’t connect. What I was witnessing was impossible, but I didn’t give up.

I was so close to escaping from this living nightmare, and even though I would keep a potentially permanent souvenir if I was trapped in Kaylee’s body, at least I would retain my memories. This, in turn, would allow me to keep Ryan Sullivan alive. I would never become Kaylee in mind because doing so meant that the doctor’s experiment was a success.

I clicked the Facebook app, intending the send a message to Greg, but my phone displayed network connectivity problems. I wasn’t a technology genius or anything, but I knew how to switch networks. A small roaming charge was worth it if it meant getting the hell out of here.

Amazingly, my phone picked up a 4G network, and a few seconds later, I was connected.

I immediately moved to send the messages again, but the device vibrated gently, indicating another notification. I thought that my messages had failed again, but instead, it showed a new text message.

(323)9876543: This is over now, Kaylee. Walk slowly back to the waiting area.

Me: im callin cops

(323)9876543: Feel free to do so.

Wasting no time, I returned to my phone and called 9-1-1. The call wouldn’t connect. Considering my text messages were working I thought I could text the police, however; my attempt was unsuccessful.

My phone vibrated again.

(323)9876543: Be a good girl and come back, Kaylee. You’ve been on quite the adventure, but it’s time to come home.

I looked around, but I didn’t see any cameras. How were they watching me? I heard footsteps approaching and the distinct clicking of heels. With nothing left to lose, I pounded my tiny fists on the fire door, and proceeded to throw my body into it multiple times. It didn’t budge. I screamed, although my voice came out in a high-pitched shriek, “Help!! I’ve been kidnapped by fucking psychos! Help me!!” I continued frantically banging on the door.

The clicking of heels grew closer, close enough that I knew Ms. Daniels and I now shared the same corridor. I looked behind me and my previous thought was quickly confirmed. As I felt a hand on my shoulder, I noticed the access panel next to the fire door glow green. The door swung open like all the others, but as I was about to exit, I realized, as crushing despair weighed on my slight shoulders, that I had been viciously deceived.

My potential saviour, the one who had seemingly heard my cries for help, was Dr. Travers.

Ms. Daniels said, “Should their little escape attempt give you some of the data you require doctor?”

Dr. Travers stepped into the corridor, leaving the door wide open. He nodded, “It will. Although I will need to take the readings within the next hour. I trust this will not interfere with your filming?” Ms. Daniels shook her head. She snatched the phone from hands that were now trembling. I desperately tried not to cry as a lump the size of a bowling ball formed in my throat.

She leaned down and gently tousled my hair, while peering at my phone, “You got closer than the others, Kaylee. But ultimately, you can’t win.” She shook her head, “And with these messages you tried to send, you’ve shown you can’t be trusted.”

I shouted, “B-But you were going to wipe our memories either way! That’s what you said!”

Ms. Daniels smiled, “Well now you’ll never know. Will you? Don’t be upset though, you’ve shown a lot of ingenuity here, young lady. And I’ve been thinking it through, and I think I will just adopt you myself after the doctor fixes you up. That way you can keep filming the show.”

She leaned down and met me at eye level, however; the creepiest part of her action was in the expression, which matched the look my mother had given me as child many times. It was her “I want to be your mom face”. It was an expression I saw rarely as a teenager, but as a young child I saw it often enough. My mom would then try and join me in a game of guns or play super heroes with me. It was sad, but it was likely a sincere attempt. As much as she tried, she could never turn me into a momma’s boy. We just never had that kind of relationship.

To see a similar expression on the newly youthful face of Ms. Daniels, purged the tears from my body, and while a measure of fear remained, I was filled with white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s unbelievably sick. That you would try and have this weirdo relationship with me after what you did- and ...”

Ms. Daniels put her finger to my lips, “But you won’t remember any of it, sweetie. You’ll just be a blank canvas for mommy to fill. If the doctor does his job right that is. We’re going to have so much fun. My sweet, sweet beautiful little girl. I’ll put you in dance classes. You’ll be a pretty ballerina for mommy, won’t you?”

She reached out and hugged me, whispering, “We’ll watch Disney Princess movies, I’ll take you shopping for new clothes, and every night I’ll brush your long hair, tell you how beautiful you are, and you’ll go to sleep knowing mommy loves you very much. Won’t that be wonderful, Kaylee?”

I shook my head and tried to pry myself from the woman’s grip. Looking to Dr. Travers, I said, “Doc, I think you need to up her dose. And if she doesn’t have one, then you need to make one.”

Ms. Daniels giggled, “I’ll show you how to paint your nails. Then when you get older, you’ll get to wear makeup. And when you start noticing boys, well we’ll have a special talk. Just you and me. I can give you a magical, fantasy life. You’ll be mommy’s little princess.”

Dr. Travers said matter-of-factly, “I expect she suffered some form of childhood trauma and probably multiple failed pregnancies. She hides the neuroses well enough, but they do surface. Certainly you have heard her speak in that sing-song voice before.”

I had heard Ms. Daniels speak that way, but it was rare. The last time was when she said I’d be returning to mommy and daddy. Apparently, it was only mommy.

The doctor continued, “It seems despite your attempt at escape, she has taken a liking to you. She never speaks to the others with the same tone. These prognostications are based only on what I have seen in her behaviour. I haven’t studied her the same way I will you and your companions.” At this point, Dr. Travers leaned in close to me, uncomfortably close. It was a closeness that in a store or restaurant, with anyone but a parent or close friend, would have resulted in strange if not concerned looks. The doctor stared at me in much the same way he did when he was giving me the ‘vaccine’.

Ms. Daniels finally released me from her maternal death grip. “You’ll be very, very happy to go home with mommy when the time is right.” She walked away from me slowly, with a slight but noticeable slump to her shoulders. Just before leaving, however, she handed the phone back to me. I wasn’t surprised- it was useless with no signal to the outside world.

I shook my head, “This is so fucked up. Can’t you see that? You’re working for a person who should be in a mental hospital. Are you sure you can even trust her?”

Dr. Travers shook his head, “Absolutely not. And why do I work with her? Because she provides me, or will provide me with the datasets I require. She also provides me with financial backing needed to continue my experiments. The initial grant I received is only a fraction of what I require to actually fund this operation. Even a madwoman has uses, Mr. Sullivan.”

I replied, “And you really have no problem with this? Just for science? I mean couldn’t you heal people- you know help them? You cured Ashley’s allergy. Some people actually die. Isn’t that something you should make public? And that old people disease. I can’t remember the name. It could mean people would live longer.”

Dr. Travers said, “This is a highly illogical option. There are finite resources on this planet. If world hunger was solved, we would face extinction because those that no longer die would want what we have.”

He continued, “There is a balance, Mr. Sullivan. That is why there is no panacea, even though the Genome Project actually determined a way to remove genes that cause certain types of cancers. Your own government is aware of this. Why didn’t they make this knowledge public or share it with the world? Because cancer, like the bubonic plague and smallpox, is a wonderful equalizer. It kills and others take their place. It’s an efficient system. Diseases like that ensure that we never exhaust our finite resources.”

I peered at the still open door. I was caught between a madwoman who wanted to treat me like life-sized doll and a man that thought so little of his fellow humans that he would let potentially thousands and even millions die because it was striking a so-called ‘balance’. I obviously didn’t have a firm grasp on world hunger, but I figured if you could save a life, why wouldn’t you? It just seemed wrong. It was at this point, I realized there was little point in trying to reason with the doctor.

In the end, to him, I was just a collection of datasets.

Not even human.

The doctor said, “We are not completely dissimilar, Mr. Sullivan. Do not look at me in that manner.”

Had I actually offended the doctor’s sensibilities? Was he even capable of such emotion?

I shook my head, “What the hell are you talking about?”

The doctor replied, “We are both at times bereft of emotion. Although for you, it is a result of your upbringing. For me, it is something entirely outside of my control. I have enjoyed watching you break down at certain points, seeing how the change you have undergone has sapped your ability to walk through life, numb to pain or fear. It really is fascinating to see.”

I blinked, “H-How do you know all this stuff about me? You couldn’t have gotten all that when you gave me the vaccine.”

Dr. Travers clasped his hands together, his fingers wiggling excitedly. He had another secret to tell. “You would be amazed how much you can learn from an individual from their cellular phone. It is one reason why I don’t have one. Your text message thread with a certain ‘Greg’ revealed much about your past. Including your messages to various consorts that ended any brief union. We are alike because we both have a wilful disregard for the feelings of others, you with the female sex, and I with humanity as a whole. And we show that disregard in a lack of emotion.”

He continued, “Colloquially, you do so with the so-called notches on your bed posts. You move from conquest to conquest with little in the way of baggage or connection. I do so with my experiments to satisfy a scientific curiosity.”

I sighed heavily, knowing the truth of his words, but refusing to admit it. “What’s the point of all this? So we are both emotionless douches? For me, it’s just easier. I don’t like dealing with shit, so I break it off. And girls like Monique didn’t care. They wanted the same thing. Y-You’re just a monster.”

The doctor shook his head, folding his hands at his side. Emotion actually crept into his voice. I emitted a startled gasp as he spoke. “The point is that as I have seen in you and in the connection you forged with Ms. Perkins, you are capable of more. You can be more than as you put it an emotionless douche with respect to your relationships with females. I am also capable of more.

“Mr. Sullivan, I’m not a monster because unlike Ms. Daniels, who would like to see you dressed in petticoats and paraded about the pageant circuit, I am willing to set you free. You’ll keep your memories, and as long as you stay away from children your own age, you will maintain your adult mind.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “But- my body! You have to change me back before you let me go. I can’t leave here looking like this. And don’t you need your dataset? I don’t get it. Why would you let me go?’

Dr. Travers replied, “Because I don’t agree with what she plans to do with you. Better that you end up with anyone but her. Simply venture outside and you’ll be free, Mr. Sullivan. I will obtain my gender-based dataset from one of the two boys. Or another subject.”

He added, “There is something she sees in you. I don’t know what it is exactly, some undefined yet powerful bond. She has acted this way with no other subject, and as fascinating as it is to document your transition, even I have my limits- I won’t subject you to a lifetime with her.”

I said, “Aren’t you afraid that I will tell people what happened to me? That your whole plan will be discovered?”

The doctor nodded, “It’s a calculated risk. I would trust those in the know to safeguard the secret of the serum. I can’t give you back what has been taken from you, Mr. Sullivan, but I can provide you the means to escape.”

I looked out the door and into the parking lot of the television studio, at my freedom.

I shook my head, “What about Ashley? Where did you take her?”

Dr. Travers replied evenly, “Unimportant. This is your only chance to hold onto who you are Mr. Sullivan, and to avoid a fate where you are made to love the one who did this to you. Accept my generous offer and leave.”

He added, “The door will be open for five minutes.” He walked slowly away from me. I looked back, and he was gone. I was alone.

If I left, where would I go? Even though I had thought about my mom recently, I certainly didn’t want to tell her what happened to me. She would probably be as bad as Ms. Daniels. I knew she was disappointed that she never had a daughter, but I wasn’t about to give her that gift. No doubt she would mother me to the point where Ryan Sullivan would be replaced entirely with Kaylee.

I thought of Greg and Eve. They were the obvious choice. Knowing who I was, they wouldn’t try and raise me like a typical little girl. They wouldn’t make me go to school, meaning I could maintain my adult mind. They would probably just let me be Ryan. Also, I had the pictures from the whiteboard on my phone. I could e-mail them to biologists and universities, hoping that someone could figure out how to change me back.

I put one foot over the threshold, glad I had decided to wear my sneakers, despite the fact they were pink and covered with glow-in-the-dark glittery hearts and stars. As I started to move my other foot, I started to feel a tremendous sense of fear. My heart thudded in my chest, as my entire body began to shake. I looked at the world before me, and not only was it massive- it was terrifying.

Everything, from the cars to the buildings, to the people walking beyond the fence surrounding the studio, looked huge, and imposing. I was used to being alone. Alone, I fled my home to chase Hollywood dreams. I lived alone, at least prior to sharing a bedroom with Ashley. My thoughts went back to my mom, and a tiny part of me wished that she was there to hold my hand, to give me a little nudge.

Shit. What the hell was wrong with me? All the courage seeped from my body like a vicious winter wind ending the life of a dying fire. My mind was wracked by anxiety. What if Greg and Eve didn’t accept me? What if they dumped me at an orphanage? I’d end up surrounded by children all day and lose my adult self. I knew the fears made little sense, especially considering if I stayed I would have my memory wiped.

Still, the irrational fear persisted. It reminded me how I felt when we moved. I was always worried how the other kids would treat me, if school would be worse than it already was or if I’d be able to make any friends. The fears subsided within the first day, usually by the time I had told my first joke in class. The fears were irrational because I always managed to make friends no matter where I moved, but there were always butterflies in my stomach before the first day of school.

I tried to tell myself that I had nothing to fear, but this fear suddenly merged with my feelings of failure and surrender. It was easier to just stay and be erased. The outside world meant trying and potentially failing. The powerful concoction kept me from fully exiting the studio. I started to have grave concerns that Eve and Greg wouldn’t believe who I was. Why would they? I was already starting to act like a completely different person. Would they see any of Ryan in this child-sized body?

My heart now pounded in my chest, like the ratta-tat-tat-ratta-tat-tat of a fully automatic rifle. My hands grew sweaty, and my head swooned. Suddenly, the world outside the studio seemed like a nightmarish place. The cars became roaming beasts, and the people were misshapen husks covered in barbed wire. I felt dizzy, and my hand reached out to grab hold of the door, causing me to tumble back inside. I told myself repeatedly that what I was seeing made no sense, and that I desperately had to leave.

As horrible a fate that awaited me inside, I imagined worse fates beyond. While the studio and my bedroom was a prison, at least it was safe. I was free from harm, while the world beyond, a place of eternal mystery held unspeakable danger. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I acting like such a pussy over this? Just leave. I had a plan. Meet Greg and Eve, send the e-mails with the pics.

Just leave.

The door shut.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Dr. Travers.

His lips trembled for a moment, the corners of his mouth gradually lifting.

Impossibly, the man was smiling.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 11

“Imagine it, Kaylee. We’ll live in a big, beautiful house with a garden in the back and a front porch. During the summer, I’ll sit on the porch swing sipping lemonade, while you play with your dolls. Summer will pass quickly, and soon it’ll be time for school. You’ll be nervous at first, and scared to leave your mommy, but I’ll walk with you. And you’ll be a big, brave girl, won’t you, Kaylee? Can’t you picture it?”

Three days had passed. In that time, it became horrifyingly clear that Ms. Daniels had an unhealthy obsession with me. It started with tousling my hair after the initial transformation, then it was gleefully dressing me after I soiled my clothes while crawling around the air ducts. This was followed by her admission that she intended to adopt me after my memory was wiped, but now, she had taken to tucking me in every night, kissing me on the forehead and singing me a lullaby.

It was obvious too that she was the voice behind Musica. The sing-songy voice she had started using all the time matched the record player.

I shook my head in response to the earlier questions, hoping she would just go away. I pulled my covers over my head, trying desperately to drown her out.

Ms. Daniels asked with a smile that would have made Hermie proud, “What lullaby would you like me to sing tonight, sweetie?”

I felt her hand on my back. She rubbed it gently and spoke in hushed tones, “Shh. Shh. Everything will be just fine, Kaylee. Whenever you’re scared, just picture us together in that big house, safe and warm. Safe and warm.” Despite the soothing nature of her voice, she might as well have been brandishing a chainsaw and screaming in my ear. I would not be lulled to sleep by her.

She continued to rub my back and speak softly, “In a few days you’ll start to feel like the real you. Don’t worry. I know you are confused. You have these memories that aren’t yours. The only thing you need to remember is that you are mommy’s shining star.”

Ironically, while the woman was positioning herself to be my mother, each day that I saw her, she was looking less and less the part. Those luscious and full breasts were still there, but they were smaller, but it was her face that told the full story. The faint lines around her eyes were completely gone now, the bags a distant memory. The double chin she had as a forty-something woman had smoothed, but fat had returned to her cheeks. Her body too had changed, with her hips slimming. She looked like she had just graduated high school.

I wasn’t sure if she realized it, but any neighbourhood we moved into would assume she was a teenage mother.

The young woman easily pulled the covers away from my face and kissed me gently on the forehead. “I love you, Kaylee.”

She lingered for a minute, likely waiting for me to say something in return. With my silence, however, she trudged from the room.

I tossed and turned, my mind grappling with my inability to leave and the horrible fate that awaited me as the daughter of a madwoman. My body and mind exhausted with the struggle finally succumbed to sleep hours later.

***

“Hey, Kaylee. Do you want to build a snowman?”

I awoke with a start, which was unusual for me. The reason, however, was obvious- there was someone lying on my bed. I thought for a moment that Ms. Daniels had returned to help me greet the day, tired of doing so through Musica, but the form was smaller. I felt hands on my covers again as I tried to drift back to sleep, uncertain if I was in actually in a semi dream-like state. My fitful night of sleep had left me feeling drained, and the fact the lights were still off meant I could sleep longer.

“C’mon, Kaylee. Wake up, let’s play!”

I groaned and turned over, but again the covers were pulled from me. My mind slowly reached a state of awareness, but it was jolted to full consciousness when the intruder started jumping on my bed.

“Wake up! Wake up! C’mon, Kaylee. Don’t you wanna build a snowman with me?”

I groaned, but with my mind now fully aware, I realized that I recognized the voice of the intruder. I threw my arms around Ashley, practically hugging the life out of her.

“What’s a matter, Kaylee? Did you have a bad dream?” The little girl hugged me back, but without the same ferocity.

The words spilled out of my mouth, “Ashley! Shit, it’s really good to see you. Things have gotten so much worse here…Ms. Daniels, she’s insane. I mean we knew that before, right? Well she’s bat shit insane. Now she wants to be my mom. And I tried to escape, Dr. Travers was letting me go, but I just couldn’t leave. I-I needed you there. To push me you know? I was so close. I just, well I got really scared. It’s freaking me out because I was acting like…well like a kid who is scared to leave their house. I should have been able to leave.”

The little girl giggled, “That’s funny, Kaylee! You call mommy a weird name. That’s what grown-ups call her! And you aren’t allowed to leave. Mommy says there’s a busy street out there. We could get hurt. When we move to the house it won’t be busy. But you need to hold my hand when we cross, kay?”

I blinked slowly, the horror of the situation slowly dawning on me.

I took the girl by the shoulders, “You have to fight it, Ashley! What they did to you! I need you! I can’t do it by myself. Y-You can’t be like this!” Tears escaped from my eyes.

The girl wasn’t laughing any longer. I could barely see her expression in the darkness, but I could see her shoulders slump. “Why are you being weird, Kaylee? I’m Madison, your big sister. Should I go get mommy? Are you sick?”

I was at least partly relieved that Ashley and I were going through this hell together. It was obvious to me that the treatments that Ms. Daniels received had done something to her mind. Oddly, the younger she got, the more maternal she became. I expected the reverse. I knew that women had biological clocks that pushed them to have children, but what was happening to Ms. Daniels made little sense.

She originally planned to sell us through the adoption agency, but I had heard nothing of that plan for days. While I hated the idea of having my memory wiped and being sold to some rich couple, I was even less enthusiastic at the prospect of being Ms. Daniels’ little girl.

I shook my head, repeatedly, “Uh no. Definitely not. Listen, do you have another voice, like another person inside you? Is her name Ashley?”

Ashley replied uneasily, “N-No, and that’s spooky. You mean like a ghost? Don’t say that, Kaylee. I don’t like it!”

Ashley hopped off my bed and quickly flicked on the lamp on the night table. “Stop being weird, Kaylee.” She asked in a sing-song voice, “So, do you wanna build a snowman?”

I sighed, “What are you talking about? We’re in LA. It never snows here.”

Ashley pulled me out of bed, “C’mon, quit being a weirdo. You know how to play it. We just get these pictures- in our heads. And it’s fun. It’s pretend.”

Not wanting Ms. Daniels to make a reappearance, I decided to play along. I would continue to chip away at the programming Ashley had undergone, hoping to reveal pieces of her old self. For now, it was harmless enough to indulge her.

I said, “OK, how do you play?”

Ashley beamed, “It’s really easy! You’ll be Elsa, and I’ll be Anna. I know it’s kinda weird that way because Elsa’s older. But you were sleeping, so I’m Anna!” I stared at her blankly. She was acting like I knew what she was talking about. “How come you forgot how to play Frozen? It’s the best movie ever. We’ve probably watched it…maybe a million times. What’s with you? Are you sure you don’t want me to get mommy?”

I shook my head and raised my hands, “No, no! I remember. I just like when you explain it.”

Ashley nodded, “OK, well like you SHOULD know, we are princesses. And you’ve got magic that makes snow and ice. All this totally cool stuff. And we play together. It’s so fun!”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah. OK. So what do we do first?”

Ashley, who ignored my grumpiness, said excitedly, “Well you wave your hands. And you make a snowman!” The girl waved her hands and wiggled her fingers.

I followed her lead, waving my hands, imagining that the gesture was creating a typical snowman. I sighed lightly, finding absolutely nothing fun about the game. “I feel stupid doing this.” I longed for a visit to the other bedroom, the one with all the video games.

Ashley frowned, “What’s a matter, Kaylee? You love this game. And you always bug me to be Elsa. So now’s your chance!” The frown quickly disappeared, curving into a bright beaming smile. I had my doubts Ashley would even have to act happy to be on the show. I put on my game face, a big plastic smile, which Ashley now seemed to form naturally. She reminded me a bit of the Joker from Batman, although maybe that was an exaggeration.

Ashley pulled all the pillows off our bed and piled them next to me. “You always love this part. It’s the funnest! You throw the pillows and pretend they are big snow hills. And I’ll jump on them!”

I had to admit that the next part was a lot more fun. I wasn’t picturing it in my head like I’m sure Ashley was, but it was better than playing with dolls or colouring, which is what I worried Ashley would want to do eventually. The game actually had some challenge to it because I had to throw the pillows in a way that enabled Ashley to jump across without touching the floor, and considering I wasn’t very strong or accurate, it took a few tries.

Despite the small failures, and the fact I knew nothing about the characters or the movie they came from, I still had a lot of fun. I was actually shocked how easily I fell into the game and the characters.

Still, I played much like I had as a kid, eventually throwing the pillows too far apart and causing Ashley to ‘fall’ from the previous snow hill. I was kind of a jerk.

Ashley looked at me crossly, “That’s not right. Elsa helps Anna across. She doesn’t want to hurt her. They’re sisters, like us!”

I shrugged, but an idea suddenly popped into my head. “You said I get to be evil though, right? Well I’m gonna make a snow monster to chase you.”

I made the sound of a ferocious beast, or at least as scary a noise possible with my high-pitched voice. It sounded more like the roar of a baby dinosaur. I wiggled my fingers and pointed at Ashley, this time actually pretending a snowman had risen from the snow. The creature had an ice hook for a hand, while the body had icy spikes protruding from it.

I yelled, “Watch out! It’s going to impale you!”

Ashley frowned and crossed her arms underneath her chest, “You aren’t playing right! And I don’t even like that part. It’s scary. I like it when Elsa and Anna are sisters in the castle. And they play together. I’m not gonna play with you if you’re mean.”

I thought about the girl’s words, but instead of using that as an out to stop playing with her, I said, “OK, well then I’m gonna do this.” I walked toward the bathroom, which had a linoleum floor, and waved my hands.

I took one step on the linoleum floor and proceeded to skate across it. Ashley followed suit eagerly, a big smile once again plastered on her face. She shrieked, “This part is the best! I knew you’d do that. You always said it’s your favourite part!”

I had never seen the movie Ashley and I were re-creating in the bedroom. How was it possible that I knew that this Elsa character makes a skating rink? I mean it was logical she would do that, since she can make ice. Rather than ponder the strange coincidence, I once again easily fell into the game. Our socked feet made the perfect skates, with Ashley and I twisting, twirling and sometimes tumbling. It was beyond strange, but the more I thought about the movie, the more familiar it seemed.

There was something so innocent and pure about the moment. It reminded me of being a kid, the same way eating the sugared cereal or drinking Kool-Aid had. It was a simpler time and a happier time. My dad was still alive, and my mom and I still got along. I could almost smell her famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. I sometimes longed for those days, when summer days were endless, playing thousands of games of tag and hide-and-go-seek. Coming in only when it got dark, and at times, getting special permission to stay out later so we could play guns.

As I played with Madison, all my worries faded away. All that mattered was what we were doing in that instant and how much fun we were having. My spirit was lifted and there was an airy feeling in my chest, as if the simple play was the final piece to the puzzle that had previously kept me from being content. Acting, having my memory wiped, becoming the daughter of a crazy woman, none of it mattered.

Incredibly, we played until lunch. I hadn’t once looked at the clock, and we went from game to game, with me taking on the role of the younger Anna and then switching back to Elsa. By the end of it, I really, really wanted to see the movie.

Ashley said, “I really missed you, Kaylee. I love playing with you. You’re so much fun! I never woulda thought to make a skating rink in the bathroom!”

I said, while wearing a tiny sheepish smile, “Thanks, Maddie. It’s fun playing with you too.” I actually couldn’t wait to play with Ashley again after lunch, and that inkling, that sense of concern over my behaviour had been reduced to a dull buzzing in the back of my head, where formerly it had been the equivalent of a blaring siren with blinding warning lights.

***

“Boys, what have I told you about staying up late playing your games? Do I have to take the controllers away? Those dark circles under your eyes look terrible, and we can’t fix it in post-production.” Despite her apparent age, Ms. Daniels still towered over the boys in her heels.

The boys said in unison, “Sorry, Ms. Daniels.”

Mark said, “We just got caught up in it. It’s a really fun game. We’ll go to bed on time tonight, we promise.”

I stared, mouth agape at Mark’s behaviour. First, I was surprised that every second word wasn’t ‘fuck’, and second, I was shocked that he seemed so submissive. I knew that something had happened in their room. The escape was Mark’s idea after all. I just went along with it. I shouldn’t have been entirely surprised though. Since the escape, the boys were becoming more and more immature, beginning to act in a way that matched their bodies.

Whenever they weren’t filming, they were back in their room- probably playing the game. The only person they listened to was Ms. Daniels. They certainly didn’t listen to Ashley or me, especially when they started a food fight at lunch. Strangely though, they never disappeared, not like Ashley at least. So what was happening to them?

During a scene featuring Ashley, Mark and Devon, I noticed Hermie trying to get my attention. The beast never removed his head or even spoke to us between scenes. It was clear Hermie’s only purpose was to play a role on the show, so the way he was motioning toward one of the side offices was very unusual behaviour. Considering both a mad scientist and a psycho wannabe mom lived in the same complex, I seriously doubted he could be worse than them.

Hermie closed the door behind us and actually removed his, or rather her head. Underneath the guise of Hermie was the young blonde woman who had originally interviewed me for the show. “I’ve turned the camera off in here, and the microphone is off in my head. It’s safe to talk. Listen, Ryan, you have to get out of here. I know you tried once before. I wanted you to just walk out the door so badly. But now that Ashley, or rather Madison, is back you desperately need to leave. Dr. Travers wasn’t kidding when he said that exposure to real children will cause a significant regression in your mind.”

I shook my head, “But Ashley isn’t a real kid. She’s just confused. I’m going to help her. Like she helped me.”

The woman smiled gently, “She’s really had a positive impact on you.” Her face quickly darkened, “But it’s too late for her. For the boys. And within a week or less, it’ll be too late for you. Ryan, you have to understand that Ashley is a real child now. Through and through. With the latest dataset, Dr. Travers found a way to erase her memory. She doesn’t remember Ryan Sullivan, or even who she was.”

I sneered at the woman, “And why should I believe you? How do I know this isn’t just another cruel way to collect more data? Like when they made it seem like I could leave and Dr. Travers was just waiting outside the door? I don’t feel like I can trust anyone. Especially not someone who is on the whole thing like you are. What’s your name?”

She replied calmly, “I’m Tracy. I was a research assistant on the Genome Project, and I’ve worked with Dr. Travers for years. I did question his methods, but I was caught up with what could be the biggest scientific breakthrough of the century. A way to essentially cure all diseases, to make people younger. I was blinded by the thought of a utopia. A new Eden. And you’re right, you don’t have any reason to trust me. You’ve been jerked around here since day one.”

She continued, “But you need to escape so the horrors of this place can be revealed. I know from this point on, they will just erase the memories immediately. You are the last test subject that has any chance of keeping their memory of what happened here intact. People need to know what goes on here.”

I was still unconvinced I could trust Tracy, but she was the sanest person I had met to this point. “And how am I going to escape exactly?”

Tracy smiled and took my hand. The gesture would have been strange when we first met, but now, I felt reassurance, comfort from the touch. “I’m going to call the police. I’ll tell them that I think a studio is breaking the Fair Work/Equal Pay law. Basically, I’ll say there are studio execs making kids work fourteen hours a day. There’s a vent behind the elementary school set that leads right outside. In the ensuing chaos, I’ll open it for you, and you can escape.”

I knew the vent. It was the same one I had failed to open multiple times.

I pulled away from Tracy, “I still think I can help Ashley. I’ll just remind her of who she actually is. She told me a lot of stories about when she was young.” I said firmly, “I have to try.”

The gentle smile didn’t leave Tracy’s face as she spoke, “I know you care about her. But every time you are exposed to her, you risk losing more and more of your adult self. I watched your exchange in there. I know what happens because I’ve seen it before with the convicts.”

My mouth opened slightly, “You had real children interact with criminals? That’s messed up.”

Tracy shook her head, “The destruction of the adult mind works almost like a virus. This was especially true with the convicts due to their poor impulse control. And it happened with Devon and Mark. Despite not being exposed to real children, their minds still changed. Their immaturity doomed them. Once one of them acted up, the others would usually follow suit. And it was a vicious circle from there because their behaviour regressed their minds. They did it to themselves.”

Tracy said, “I know you want to help her, and yes, you probably could work with her for hours to see if you could jog some part of her memory, but that would be deadly for you. Tell me what you want to do with her next time you see her.”

Without thinking I blurted out, “Play Frozen!” My hand flew to my mouth, and my eyes widened to comical proportions. I quickly corrected my statement, “I’m going to work with her, to see if I can bring back her memory.”

Tracy shook her head sadly, “It’s already started. You know you called her Maddie, right?”

I shook my head, put my hands on my hips and bent over slightly, “I did NOT!”

My behaviour caused Tracy’s pretty face to scrunch into an unattractive saddened mask, “You know I’m right. You have to leave here, or they’ll be nothing left of Ryan Sullivan. You’ll be Kaylee fully, in body and mind.”

I said, “And what about Ashley? You can’t let Ms. Daniels take her. What’s with her anyway? She used to be obsessed with shooting the stupid show, but now she’s all kid crazy.”

Tracy said, “Dr. Travers has been steadily increasing her maternal instinct. He wanted to make her more focused on you and Ashley, so he could conduct his experiments before the end of the malleable period. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let Ms. Daniels have Ashley or any of the children.”

I decided to ask the burning question, “Is that period over? A-Am I trapped like this forever?”

Tracy reached out to me again, and I allowed her to grasp my hands, “It is, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to help reverse the effects of this. I haven’t found an ageing gene, similar to the regenerative gene, but I know it exists. Do you know there are people with lipodystrophy? It’s a pre-mature ageing disease. If I can manage to get a similar grant and someone with that disease, I could use Dr. Travers’ research to develop a cure.”

I replied, “And what’s going to happen to me in the meantime?”

Tracy nodded, “I’ll take you home to live with me. You’ll be safe there from any real children, and I can monitor your condition. From there you can contact your friends and family. I’ll help explain everything that happened to you.”

I looked down at my shoes, my mind starting to wander. I thought about all the fun I had with Ashley that morning. Tracy said, “When you are ready, you just give me the signal. I’ll call the police, and you’ll crawl through the vent. Then, you can hide in my car. I’ll leave the doors unlocked. It’s a red 2008 Ford Focus. Do you want to do this?”

I nodded slowly, “Yes.”

It was a half lie, although better than the massive one I told Tracy when I first met her. I had never worked teaching acting to inner-city kids, and the one role I did have involving a kid was a non-speaking one, and I never spoke to him. The only interaction I had with kids previous to this was at the restaurant, and they weren’t positive. It always annoyed me how messy the kids were, how they sometimes pulled all the napkins out of the dispenser or decided to leave bits of food on the booths. Or how their parents let them order food they obviously wouldn’t like. Plus, it always took twice as long to clean a table when kids sat there.

It was a half lie because I was still having serious second thoughts about leaving Ashley here, despite the danger of losing my adult self, it seemed wrong to abandon her. I saw the parallel between this and the military adage, no man left behind. My father told me a story about a young man in his unit. He had his leg blown off by a landmine. The unit risked their lives for the wounded soldier, eventually retrieving him and saving his life. Ashley was the only one who had cared about me here, the only one that helped me, and while we weren’t in an armed conflict, it was close enough to war that I saw Ashley as a fellow soldier. I wasn’t going to leave her behind.

***

“Uh. Hey, Maddie- are you awake?” I was using Ashley’s new name consciously now.

Ashley replied from the top bunk, “Yeah. Are you scared, Kaylee? Do you wanna snuggle a bit?”

I said, “No, that’s not it. I’m just curious if you remember something really important.”

Ashley sounded intrigued, “Ooh, like a big secret? Did you tell me before I went to camp?”

I raised a brow, “You went to camp? When was that?”

Ashley replied, “It was last week silly! You looked so sad when I left. You’ll get to go when you are eight like me. It was so much fun! It was kind of boring when I first was there. I had a lot of fun later though!”

This matched Tracy’s story about the convicts. I still wasn’t sure I could trust her, but she was the only person, other than Ashley, who seemed to care about me. I assumed she felt guilt as a result of her part in creating the serum, but she was offering me a safe place, away from the children whose presence would destroy my adult self.

Not only that, but she seemed committed to finding a cure. She was a scientist like Dr. Travers, but she had a heart, unlike the cold, cavernous empty chamber within the former’s chest. Travers reminded me of the Terminator movies. If Skynet had really created a race of artificially intelligent robots, I imagined that Dr. Travers would probably lead them. A part of me was insulted by the fact he said we had anything in common. Being an emotionless prick to a bunch of needy and vulnerable women wasn’t the same as stealing someone’s life and turning them into a living science experiment.

I asked, “When did you know you wanted to be on TV? Like how old were you?”

Ashley replied excitedly, “Mommy took me to be in commercials when I was really young. That’s what she said. I’m not sure. I can’t really remember.”

I knew that Ashley Perkins had fallen in love with performing during a dance recital when she was five or six. I figured that Ms. Daniels would try and fill in her memories as much as possible, but she could never do it fully.

I asked, “What was your favourite toy growing up?”

Ashley replied, “You’re a weirdo, Kaylee! What do you mean growing up? We aren’t grown-ups. My most favourite toy in the world is my Elsa figure skating Barbie. You play with your Anna one, but sometimes I share with you.”

Again, the answer didn’t match what I knew, which was the decapitated Zoe glitter fun station. I couldn’t actually remember the name, but I knew what it looked like, and it was nothing from this decade.

I felt a burst of energy and an excitement build within me at the mention of the Frozen characters. Would we play again tomorrow? This time, the warning bells sounded. Like a great cock block in the face of an unattractive girl, my early warning system completely shut down any thought of playing with Madison…Ashley tomorrow.

I didn’t want to ask Ashley the next question, but so far, it seemed like the memory wipe was total. I sighed deeply, “When you were six, did something really bad happen to you? Something you still remember?”

There was a long pause. My heart raced in anticipation, desperately hoping she would remember something of her past. Finally, she responded.

“I got lost. I was so scared. I thought it would be fun to hide on mommy. So I went into a big bunch of clothes all in a circle. Well mommy didn’t come find me. And I waited...and then I felt really scared. So I started looking for her. The store was so big. Bigger than our house! They called my name on a big speaker and told me to go to the toys. I knew where that was. And mommy was waiting there!”

I frowned. Despite her apparent insanity, she had provided Ashley with believable memories. Or was it part of the process? Ms. Daniels had said that I would be a blank canvas, so I assumed she had created the memories in the time spent with Ashley. A kid with no memory would likely be terrified without any parents. Ms. Daniels likely filled that role immediately, spending hours with her, implanting hundreds of memories.

I said anxiously, starting to believe that Ashley remembered nothing of her previous life, “Um. Something worse though. You don’t remember anything about your uncle Robert?”

Again, there was a long pause. Ashley replied with similar hesitation, “I-I’m not sure. I don’t know any Robert…but I-I feel like a hurt in my heart. And kind of an icky feeling in my tummy. Hermie said we should just giggle it out. But I don’t want to. I’m scared, Kaylee. I don’t like this feeling!”

I climbed into the top bunk, and the girl threw her arms around me. She had tears in her eyes, and while I regretted bringing up such a painful memory, it was clear that Dr. Travers’ method wasn’t perfect. I said, “It’s okay, Ashley. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

The girl gently wiped her eyes, “W-Why do you keep calling me that? That’s not my name.”

Before I had a chance to answer, I heard the superstar makeover closet slide open, and then the clicking of high heels, which were immediately muted by the carpet in the bedroom.

“Kaylee! It’s not nice to trick your sister like that.”

I balled my tiny hands into fists and glared at Ms. Daniels, “Seriously? We can’t have one fucking minute of privacy in here? Are you sitting listening to us 24/7 or something?”

Ashley said, sounding exasperated, “That’s a really bad word, Kaylee! You’ll make mommy sad.”

Ms. Daniels, who had flicked the lights on, looked up at us, although she eventually zeroed in on me, “Kaylee, you’ve lost your free play tomorrow morning.”

I surprised myself by sticking out my tongue, “And I should care why exactly? I don’t give a shit about playing with dolls or dressing up.”

Ms. Daniels smiled and quirked a brow, “Really? Even playing Frozen with your big sister? You had so much fun with her today.”

I shook my head repeatedly, trying desperately to remove the memory. A twenty-two year old man should not have enjoyed play acting scenes from a movie aimed at children. Yet, the memory was there, like a fresh wound on my battered masculinity. It’s not like I even acted out any of the male parts or the stupid reindeer, no- Kaylee and Madison played Elsa and Anna interchangeably.

Ashley whined, “C’mon, Kaylee, be a big girl and say you’re sorry to mommy! I wanna play with you tomorrow!”

Ms. Daniels said, “It’s OK, Madison. If Kaylee wants to play with you tomorrow, she’ll apologize for saying such naughty words. Right, Kaylee?”

I said firmly, “I’m not apologizing. I was just playing with her because I was bored.”

Ms. Daniels nodded, “OK, Kaylee. If that’s the choice you want to make. We’ll see if you’ve changed your mind tomorrow. Sleep tight my beautiful girls. I love you.” With that, she kissed us both on the forehead.

Madison lilted, “I love you, Mommy!”

When I was silent, both Ashley and Ms. Daniels turned to look at me expectantly. I climbed down into the bottom bunk and proceeded to shrug my shoulders, “I’m not saying shit. Ms. Daniels, you realize what Dr. Travers is doing to you, right? He’s making you younger on purpose and making you think you care about us. When before, all you cared about was selling us.”

Ashley cried out, “Mommy, is that true? I’m scared. I-I don’t want to leave you. I love you!” I heaved a deep sigh as the little girl started crying again.

Ms. Daniels looked at me sternly and then approached Ashley, “Kaylee is sick. But it’s not in her tummy- it’s in her head. That’s why she is saying all of these things.”

Ashley sounded concerned, “Mommy, I want to help her. How can I make her better?”

Ms. Daniels smiled, but I shuddered as her eyes bore into me. While there was the appearance of sincere love in them, there was also a sense of ownership- I was going to be hers. She replied, “Hug her and love her. But most importantly, play with her! Every chance you get. Then one day soon, she’ll wake up, and she’ll have a big smile on her face. That’s when you know she’s all better. Can you do that for me? Kaylee needs her big sister to be strong while she’s sick.”

I glared at Ms. Daniels, knowing what effect Ashley’s constant companionship would have on me.

Madison bounced up top and said gleefully, “Yes, Mommy! I’ll help Kaylee feel all better. I know she was fibbing about Frozen. She loves it! Maybe tomorrow we’ll do a dress up with the costumes!”

I looked straight at Ms. Daniels and said, “This isn’t over. I’m not going to stop trying to jog her memory. You’ve seen that it isn’t perfect. She’s going to remember, and she’s going to realize that she hates you.”

Immediately, a look of sadness crossed Ms. Daniels’ youthful features, but it didn’t last. She regarded me with deadly seriousness- the sing song voice was replaced with a glacial steel as she leaned in and whispered, “If you hate being Mommy’s little girl so much Kaylee, maybe you need more time to think about your behaviour. A few years even.”

My eyes widened to saucers, and the words froze in my mouth. While Dr. Travers was a cold, calculating scientist with a supreme focus on his work, no matter the consequences, Ms. Daniels was a psychotic, vindictive madwoman. I saw in her eyes the person who was going to kill Ryan Sullivan.

Ms. Daniels whispered, “Think about whether you want to be in diapers for a few years, Kaylee. Then you’ll have plenty of time to learn to love Mommy. Consider that the next time you try and ‘jog’ your sister’s memory. Speaking of which, I’ll make sure you keep yours, just until you start talking.”

The sing song voice returned seconds later, “Good night my sweet girls! I hope you are feeling better tomorrow, Kaylee! Remember what I said, Madison!” Another two quick kisses on the forehead, and she was gone.

***

I awoke with a start for the second morning in a row. Someone was in my bed again, but this time they were spooning with me. I heard a groan from my bed mate, “Ouch…Kaylee you hit me in my tummy.”

I wasn’t surprised to see Ashley next to me. Regretfully, I never had the chance to see Ashley’s body before she was turned into a kid. I pictured her body, the smooth legs, the tapered waist, and the perfect face, boobs and ass. Her long raven hair would drape over her breasts as I took her doggy style. She would complain at first, until the first thrust, then she would moan like a cat in heat. While the imagery should have elicited a physical sexual response, I felt only a tiny tingle in my brain.

I rolled away from Ashley, feeling her arm gently fall off my body. I turned to face her. “Why are you in my bed? Did you have a nightmare about what I told you last night?”

I knew that Ms. Daniels’ threat to reduce me to infancy was real, but I still had to try and recover Ashley’s memories. I owed that much to her.

Madison smiled, “Nope! You had a very bad dream. Mommy came in and rubbed your back. She said I should sleep in your bed in case you had another bad dream.”

I blinked, “Wait…Ms. Daniels was in here? I don’t remember anything.” I faintly recalled a dream where I was in a diaper being spoon fed by mommy…Ms. Daniels.

Ashley smiled, “That’s cause you were sleeping, silly! I’m not tired anymore! You wanna play?”

I firmly shook my head, but Ashley persisted. She put her face in mine, “Hey Elsa, do you wanna build a snowman?”

My whole body started to gently shake. That strange energy that fills rambunctious children had entered my body. I realized that I desperately wanted to answer yes. The memory of our first play session filled my mind like a vicious storm, bending trees and bringing torrential rains and once again battering my adult male self. Like everything else in my life, it would be so easy just to give in, to play with Ashley until all that was left of Ryan Sullivan were faded memories, trapped within a shy yet happy little girl.

I decided, however, to take a stand. Ms. Daniels would not have me, and I would prove that Dr. Travers’ formula was unsuccessful. Not only that, but I would save Ashley.

I said, “No, I don’t want to play with you, Ashley. You need to remember who you are. Ms. Daniels isn’t your mommy. She’s someone who has trapped you here. She’s turned you into a little girl. You are a grown woman. An adult. Your name is Ashley Perkins.”

Ashley grinned, “You’re so silly, Kaylee! I’m your big sister, Madison.” Her face darkened, looking hurt, “How come you don’t wanna play with me?”

I replied, “Because I’m actually a boy named Ryan Sullivan. An adult too. I don’t want to play little girl games with you.”

Ashley shook her head, “I think it’s cause you don’t wanna say sorry. You know, for the bad words you said. Mommy said you can’t play if you don’t say sorry.”

I sighed gently. Jogging Ashley’s memory was going to be challenging, but it would also be dangerous. Not only was there the ever present threat of infancy, but there was a tiny part of me that wanted to do nothing else but play with my big sister, day in day out.

***

Throughout breakfast, Ashley continued to pester me about playing with her. I managed to appease her by telling her I would play later, but I didn’t tell her when later would actually be. I used to tell my annoying younger cousins the same thing. Happy with the result, and seemingly getting her way, Ashley busied herself next to the superstar makeover closet. I could hear her pulling things out of there and laughing, and again, I wanted to join her.

Musica, who was mostly silent these days, said, “Madison, sweetie- please move away from the closet, Mommy’s trying to get in.”

Ashley quickly returned to my side as the superstar makeover closet gently slid open. Ms. Daniels stepped into the room, absolutely beaming, “My beautiful girls! How are you this morning?”

Madison said, “I’m good, Mommy! But Kaylee’s head is still sick. She said weird stuff to me. And she won’t play with me! She said later, but it’s later now and she still won’t play.”

Ms. Daniels smiled at Ashley, “Kaylee knows she’s not allowed to play until she apologizes for saying such naughty words. I know you want to play with her Madison, but she’s not allowed until I hear ‘I’m sorry’.”

Ms. Daniels walked over to me and said firmly, “Are you ready to say you’re sorry for saying those bad words, Kaylee? It’s not right to say words like that when you are upset. It hurts Mommy’s feelings too. You don’t want that, do you?”

I said, “I know what playing with her will do to me. So you’ve given me an easy out. No, I’m not going to say I’m sorry.”

Ms. Daniels pulled a chair from the craft table and set it in the corner of the room. “Then you can stay in this chair until you are ready. You can watch your sister play.”

I crossed my arms underneath my chest and shook my head, refusing to budge. Ashley watched the exchange silently. Ms. Daniels said, “Now, young lady. I won’t ask you again.”

My standoff with Ms. Daniels made little sense. I could sit in the chair and avoid having to play with Madison. I stood defiant, for little or no reason.

Five seconds later, Ms. Daniels grabbed my arm and dragged me easily toward the awaiting chair. Before setting me down, however, she pulled her hand back and firmly swatted my butt. It was more shocking than painful, and I was thankful that the chair wasn’t facing her, because my face was burning with humiliation.

Ms. Daniels said, “I’m sorry to have to do that, Kaylee. But you weren’t listening to Mommy. Now are you going to say sorry?” Again, I shook my head as my shame was quickly replaced with anger. I hadn’t been treated like that since I was a kid, and the only time my mom spanked me, I actually laughed at her. She cried (of course), and I was the clear victor. The rage bubbled inside me, and my biceps which previously jutted from my arm, tensed but formed no discernible bump.

Ms. Daniels replied matter-of-factly, “You’ve made your choice then. You’ll sit there until you say sorry to me while your sister plays.”

Seconds ticked by, but it felt like an interminable wait. I took a few glances behind me to see what Ashley was doing. She was dressed in a blue and white dress or gown. Attached to the sleeves were two thin pieces of material. They were nearly translucent. I don’t know how I knew exactly, but I knew the dress was worn by the Elsa character. I had never even seen a picture of her, but I knew it.

Madison twirled the skirt happily, “Look at me, Mommy! Look! I’m Elsa!”

Ms. Daniels replied happily, “You look so beautiful, Madison! My little princess!”

Ashley beamed from the compliment, and slowly, my rage shifted. I desperately wanted Ms. Daniels to say the same to me. I wanted to spin and dance in front of mommy. I wanted her attention.

I turned away immediately, frantically removing the thoughts from my mind the same way a recently divorced woman might cut her ex-husband out of all their pictures together to remove his memory. I heard rustling behind me, and then Ms. Daniels voice, barely above a whisper, “You want to play with your sister, don’t you?”

She held in front of me a green and black dress. There was a bustier, although maybe it wasn’t called that. The sleeves were puffy and blue. Attached to the skirt was the same nearly translucent material, but there were flower petals on it. I almost reached out to grab the dress, but I kept my hands at my side. Still, the want and need was there.

Ms. Daniels dangled the dress in front of me, “You just have to say you’re sorry, Kaylee. It’s really easy, and then you can play for hours with your sister while Mommy gets her beauty treatments.”

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, trying to shut out Ms. Daniels and her increasingly attractive offer. I felt the fabric of the dress tickle my nose, then hands running gently through my hair, but I didn’t surrender.

Ms. Daniels said, “Fine. You can stay sitting on this chair until you’re ready to be a big girl and apologize. Madison, sweetheart, please help your sister! She needs her big sister to set a good example.”

Ashley replied, “OK, Mommy! I’ll help her!”

Ms. Daniels said, “Good girl. Mommy will be back from her beauty treatment at lunch time. Goodbye, my beautiful girls!”

With that, Ms. Daniels left, but I was left with the memory that for an instant at least, I had desperately wanted her to watch me twirl in the green dress. I wanted her praise, her affection, and most of all- her approval.

I had to get out of here.

***

“I want Ashley to come too. I know that being near her is dangerous to my adult mind, but I really think I was getting through to her. I talked about some abuse she’d been through, and she actually seemed to remember. I know that I can jog her memory. I just need to do it in a place away from Ms. Daniels.” During filming, I had given Tracy the signal- two firm nods. We met again in the office, and while I agreed with her plan, I wasn’t escaping without Ashley.

Tracy furrowed her brow, “It’s incredibly risky. Any prolonged exposure to her will cause irreversible changes.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “OK, so I think a bit like a kid. It’s not a big deal. Once you turn me back, it’ll all be fixed.”

Tracy shook her head, “You don’t understand, Ryan. It will literally shrink your brain. You’ll not only think like a kid, you will have the same brain capacity as a six year old. Meaning you will lose most of what you learned in school. Certain memories may trigger your previous abilities or knowledge, but it will be rare.”

She added sadly, “If that happens to you, there’s no going back. It’s easy enough to regress a brain. Think of someone who has suffered serious brain damage. They might forget things often or anger easily. They also might lose certain skills. It’s a similar approach. But to age a brain, to give knowledge, a lifetime of experience and muscle memory, it’s impossible.”

I frowned, “Why? Why is this possible, and not that?” I motioned to myself- to my body.

Tracy replied, “Because you would have to be the one who infused those skills, the knowledge and the muscle memory. Not even a parent or a spouse would know you as well as you know yourself. You’d be at best an incomplete human being, a man with a memory but no education or skills. You would have to start over in nearly every aspect of your life. At worst, you’d be severely developmentally delayed.”

I asked, “What does that mean?”

Tracy said softly, “You’d be trapped at a specific developmental stage. You’d be an adult, but you would always have the brain capacity of a six year old. Look, I know that you care about Ashley, but do you really want to risk yourself like that?”

She added, “I’ll make sure that Ashley and the boys are taken to a very reputable orphanage. They’ll become wards of the state of California.”

I banged my fist on the table, “That’s not good enough! Ashley needs help. I can help you jog her memory. Tell you the things she told me. You can keep us in separate rooms, just like Anna and Elsa.” My eyes widened, and Tracy sighed gently.

“For the last few nights, they’ve been playing the Frozen DVD all night long. Despite not seeing it, your brain has created the pictures. The same way it would when you are reading a book.”

I glared at Tracy, “I’m not stupid. I could have figured that one out myself.”

Tracy nodded slowly, “Sorry, Ryan. Your idea might work, but if you start to mentally regress, I’m pulling the plug on this. I need ...”

I narrowed my eyes, “You need what? You need to use me as a science experiment? A way to get grant money?”

Tracy leaned down, lowering herself to eye level with me and said softly, “Nothing like that. You hold the secret to what happened here. They are going to wipe the memories of every last test subject now that they’ve determined how to do it. So if something happens to me, you need to tell the world. Do you understand?”

I seethed, “Look, if this arrangement is going to work, you can’t treat me like a kid. You can’t talk to me like one, or do this patronizing bullshit. If I’m going to live with you, you have to treat me like Ryan. No fucking eight o’clock bed times. No stupid kid rules. Got it? And yeah I understand. I’m not stupid.”

Tracy stood up, “I’m sorry, Ryan. You’re right. I can’t do that. It was a temporary lapse. I’ve just dealt with so many like you that I forget there’s an adult inside that little girl’s body. Usually by this point, there’s been a full regression. You were really lucky to end up with Ashley. Because if you’d been in the boys’ room, well…we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Tracy added, “I’ll find a way to bring Ashley too.”

I felt fear and anxiety creep into my mind. What if I couldn’t push myself to leave, to step over the threshold to freedom? What if failure was imminent? The uncertainty must have been painted on my face because Tracy reached out and put her hand on my slender shoulder, and this time I welcomed the touch.

Tracy said gently, “It’ll be alright, Ryan.”

In that moment, I wanted to be embraced by Tracy, to feel her warmth and the protection she offered. I fought the urge and nodded, saying firmly, “Yeah I know.”

Tracy pulled away, and I felt an instant emptiness and a forceful return to vicious fear. I realized that I wanted her to reach out again, and it wasn’t because of how it would feel to have her firm breasts pressed against my body, or the sweet smell of her perfume- no, in that moment, she represented an emotional safety net.

Again, I pushed away the feelings, the desire to be held, and said, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Tracy nodded and pulled her cell phone out of her purse, “The vent is open. Good luck, Ryan.”

***

My fully charged cell phone provided enough illumination to keep my now very active imagination at bay. A pink and black Hello Kitty backpack carried a few days’ worth of clothing, and a plastic bag with my wallet. Pinned to the glittery blue butterfly t-shirt I wore was my dad’s overseas service badge. I was fully prepared to leave this place, and I just hoped that I could gather the courage this time to actually do the deed.

I knew the consequences for failure- becoming the young daughter of a madwoman.

As I crawled through the duct work, I heard shouting. An access grate gave me a bird’s eye view of the doctor’s laboratory, where Dr. Travers and Ms. Daniels were having an explosive argument. I fiddled with the grate, pushing it open, and once I did, I was shocked by what I saw.

Standing in a pair of ill-fitting heels was a young woman who couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen. Ms. Daniels’ once full breasts had been reduced to budding lumps. From my vantage point, I could see that her bra was hanging uselessly, the cups barely filled. Her blazer hung limply from her shoulders, the formerly form fitting garment looking like her much larger date had offered it to her or perhaps her father at a daddy-daughter dance.

She waved her arms in rage, but the sleeves of her blazer now extended past her hands. “You asshole! I look like I should be babysitting my girls, not acting as their mother! What have you done to me!?” As she stomped toward the doctor, she stepped out of her heels, and threw off her blazer.

The doctor had his back to her, busying himself with a chemistry set. It was actually beyond a chemistry set, but other than calling it a contraption, I had no other description. It was a complicated machine that had different coloured liquid passing through long tubes, ending in a beaker. Despite the anger displayed by his conversation partner, the doctor replied in the same monotone, “Ms. Daniels, you’ve been a useful test subject. Your usefulness, however, has reached its end. It’s time that we ended our partnership.”

Ms. Daniels shrieked, her voice childlike and strained, “What are you talking about?! I was never supposed to be a test subject! What about your grants? With me gone, you’ll lose all of them except for your original fund. And that won’t keep this place running for a day.”

Dr. Travers replied calmly, “You tested the efficacy of the serum as an anti-ageing or age defying tonic. I would say it is a success.”

Ms. Daniels stalked toward the doctor, who still had his back turned to her, “How is this a success? I look like I did in high school! No one will want that.”

Dr. Travers nodded, “Agreed, but the dosage I gave you was too large. I know now what is required to avoid such unfortunate…side effects. Now this distasteful plot you have with regard to the television program and the adoption agency can cease. Remember too, it was you who asked me to give you the serum again.”

Ms. Daniels stomped her bare feet, “Because beyond my girls, it is all I can think about!”

Dr. Travers replied evenly, “Yes, unfortunately your batch was highly addictive. That’s something I will remove from future versions. Again, I have to thank you, Ms. Daniels, you’ve been extremely helpful.”

Ms. Daniels stepped weakly toward the doctor, “But what’s going to happen to me, to my girls?” As she walked toward him, I could see that her hips had narrowed significantly, while her long slender legs had been reduced to sticks. She was basically a bean pole with two lumps attached to her chest.

Dr. Travers replied, “Well I would expect you’ll be attending the seventh grade, by the time the formula is completely finished with you. While Kaylee, Madison and the boys will enjoy a second trip through elementary school. After I finish wiping all your memories that is. I’m certain a loving family will adopt Kaylee and Madison. The boys too. You might spend a few months or even a year in a state-run orphanage. You know that our adoption research indicated that the younger the child the better. Few people want to raise teenagers. But someone will want you. Eventually.”

Ms. Daniels screamed, “You fucking bastard! I never asked for this!”

Dr. Travers shook his head, “But you did. You wanted to be younger, Ms. Daniels. And now you are.”

Dr. Travers slowly filled a syringe from the beaker, but as he was doing so, Ms. Daniels moved in behind him. Just as he finished filling the syringe, Ms. Daniels grabbed the doctor’s arm and forced the needle into his body. I couldn’t see where at first, but a quick turn from the desk revealed a needle stuck fast in the man’s thigh. As he reached down to pull it out, Ms. Daniels jabbed another needle, this one filled with a viscous green fluid, into the man’s neck. He cried out in pain. Beyond the smile he displayed at my failed escape attempt, it was the most emotion I had seen from the man.

Ms. Daniels thrust the plunger down on the needle in Dr. Travers’ neck. I couldn’t see if it had hit a vein or not, but as the doctor struggled to wrench the needle from his neck, Ms. Daniels plunged another into his arm. Again, I saw the liquid leave the syringe. I could see that some leaked out of the various puncture wounds, but the last one barely dribbled.

The doctor seized up, as blood and serum mixed both inside and outside his body. By the time Ms. Daniels had thrust the sixth needle into Dr. Travers, I had closed my eyes. I loved horror movies, especially slasher movies with copious amounts of blood and gore, but the real life scene, the horrific attack, it was too much. I flicked my cell phone on and took off through the vent.

A moment later, I heard a scream, a pained, tortured cry, and then silence.

***

After five minutes of crawling, I started to see daylight. For weeks, I had been bathed in the artificial glow of studio lights, but now, the sun lay before me. Tiny rays of light crept into the shaft as if carefully tracing my path to freedom. I emerged in the parking lot, which was next to the bus stop where I had first met Ashley.

There was a surprising number of cars in the parking lot, especially for a studio that had only a skeleton crew. I heard sirens approaching. The police would likely find Dr. Travers dead, murdered by his own test subject. Ms. Daniels’ would be charged, but she would likely be shipped off to a mental hospital.

After a few minutes of searching, I located the red Ford Focus that was to be my escape vehicle. I was proud that I managed to leave the studio without the same debilitating fear. It may have had something to do with the fact that I wanted to be as far away as possible from the horrifying scene in the laboratory, but I chalked it up to bravery, and a return to my confident self.

I opened the car and slid into the backseat. Not wanting to be seen by the police or anyone else for that matter, I quickly lay down behind the two front seats. Why was I scared of the police? Despite the evidence in the lab, I was terrified that they wouldn’t believe my story. That they would think I was just some poor little girl snatched away from an orphanage and used for cheap acting labour.

Tracy wanted me to tell the world what had happened to me, but I was having serious anxiety about revealing who I actually was. I had my doubts that anyone would believe such a far-fetched explanation. Or worse still, the supposed powers that be, the ones who funded the mad scientist’s experiments would find a way to make me disappear to protect their reputations. I just wanted to stay at Tracy’s until she could find a way to turn me back. As much as I loved the spotlight, I didn’t want to enter it looking like Kaylee.

After a short while, I caught the reflection of spinning blue light, which signaled the arrival of more police. I started to obsessively check my phone, to the point where I was checking the time every three or four minutes. Worry descended on me, my entire body feeling heavy, as if it was bound by massive chains. It pounded in my skull, causing me to adopt a foetal position. I crushed a discarded coffee cup in my hand, pumping it over and over like the stress ball Vince kept in his office.

As each minute ticked by, I grew increasingly anxious. Tracy should have been here by now. A thousand possible outcomes ran through my head. Was she in there explaining to the police what had happened? Would some loose lipped cop spill the story to the media? I imagined microphones pushed into my face and a television cameras capturing my every move. My face would be plastered on newspaper covers, it would be the main story world-wide. A secret to the fountain of youth discovered in of all places- Hollywood, California.

I heard voices, and my nails dug into the coffee cup. Were the police conducting car-by-car searches?

Seconds later, I lifted my head up to see Tracy being slowly led out toward a police cruiser. She was handcuffed. It was at this point that I began having serious breathing problems. My breaths came in staccato gasps. It felt like my chest was in a vice, and the crank was slowly crushing the life from my body. Words escaped from my mouth, cries of “No!” before they were quickly silenced.

If the police found me here, I would probably end up in an orphanage. The little blonde girl with the uncertain, timid demeanor would be readily adopted, and then- school. It was likely that the orphanage itself would destroy my adult self, being surrounded by kids my age, or just kids in general, but school- it would cement my fate as Kaylee.

I told myself over and over that I wouldn’t end up that way, but my brain refused to cooperate. As I watched Tracy being led to the police car, a deep despair passed over me. I felt like a withered party balloon, once so hopeful of freedom, to fly away, to a fate where I was a sagging nearly empty husk. Tracy was my only chance to be myself again. I forgot about the whiteboard images on my phone or the fact that Tracy might be released without charges. No, my mind created a situation where Tracy received the death penalty, and I ended up finger painting and surrounded by kids who turned my brain to first grade mush. I wasn’t college educated or anything, but I knew how to read, and with practice I could write again. I remembered my times tables. Basic things adults did every day and older school-aged children- it would all be gone.

The images exacerbated my anxiety to the point where I was shaking uncontrollably. My thoughts, however, turned to Ashley, and to her previous words of encouragement. I had to pull myself together, and I desperately had to avoid crying loudly. To this point, I had managed to stifle any terrified sobbing with a blanket I found in the back seat, but if it grew in intensity one of the police officers was certain to hear me. Eventually, my breathing slowed, as I used Ashley’s words regarding my past failures or rather my lack of trying as a mantra.

I heard the police cars pull away, the flashing lights quickly disappearing from the reflection in the window.

I peeked out the window and seeing a deserted parking lot, I decided to slowly exit the car. I had some difficulty separating myself from the place that had been my hiding spot, but I gathered my courage and left, slinging my backpack over my shoulder in the process.

Thankfully, the beasts and misshapen humans I had seen during my first escape attempt were gone. It wasn’t surprising because I knew I could never return to the studio, not after the horrific acts I saw there. It was the equivalent of sleeping in a house where a multiple homicide occurred. Plus, the police might return. I had no choice but to leave.

Looking beyond the parking lot and the high fence, I saw an open world.

At this point, however, I wasn’t sure if it was there to embrace me, or to gobble me up whole.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 12

“Are you waiting for your mommy, sweetie?” The old woman smiled, and while I felt safe in her presence, internally- it was like great swathes of barbed wire had nested in my brain. Each word and gesture from the woman, from her kindly expression to the way she sat, it echoed what I already knew- the world would see Kaylee, and they would treat her accordingly.

There was no surprise in this. Ryan Sullivan wasn’t sitting at the bus stop, his legs dangling from the bench, unable to touch the ground. He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt with a glittery butterfly on it, or a pair of pink running shoes that lit up in the dark.

I answered snidely, “No, I’m waiting for a bus.”

The old woman wasn’t the only person giving me strange looks. A young mother with a little girl about Kaylee’s age kept slowly shaking her head and looking in my direction. Her head moved on a swivel, switching from me to searching for a parent who would never come.

She said, “I’d never let my Juliette ride the bus alone. What kind of parent would allow that?”

A teenage girl who had been waiting in the bus shelter said, “Maybe she ran away or something.”

I growled, “I’m just waiting for the fucking bus. Leave me alone.” There were shocked gasps from the small assembled crowd.

The teenage girl said, “Shit, kid’s got a mouth.”

The young mother frowned and said, “Please don’t use such language in front of children.” The old woman, who was likely someone’s grandmother said gently, “Did you miss your school bus? Do you know how to get home by yourself, sweetie?” When I left the studio, it was just past four, so it wasn’t surprising she would ask me that question.

I sighed deeply, having already had my fill of being treated like a child. The old woman persisted, “When you get on the bus, you make sure to tell the driver where you live. Do you know your address, sweetie? You just tell him the street even. He’ll be able to help.”

I said, “I know where I’m going. It’s not a big deal. My mom knows where I am. I’m very responsible. I’m taking the 67 bus and then the 78 for twenty minutes. I’m going to my friend’s house.” I missed the days when I could just wait for the bus without a full investigation. I’d check out the teenage girl’s ass in those short shorts and the mom’s tits. Neither of them had a nice enough face to consider hooking up with, but I could still enjoy certain parts.

I blinked slowly, my mind flashing back to the studio, to the perfect specimens, which now included me. My wandering eye was one of the reasons I was even in this body. Still, if I looked and enjoyed what I saw, I could confirm that Dr. Travers’ serum had to this point been unsuccessful.

The teenage girl, who was probably seventeen or eighteen, just smiled at me, completely unaware that I had been staring at her ass. The young mother, on the other hand, frowned disapprovingly as I stared at her chest. Again, I didn’t feel a thing physically, except for a tingling in my head.

The mother turned to the teenage girl and said, “I think you’re right. She’s probably a runaway. Juliette, why don’t you talk to her? Ask her if she ran away from home.”

The grandmother shook her head, “I wouldn’t pester her any more. She’s in a grumpy mood.”

I glared at the assembled crowd and started playing on my phone, immersing myself in a game of ROBOT NAZI ZOMBIES. Mostly, it was an excuse to blow up the heads of hundreds of zombies, who were robots and also somehow Nazis. It would drain my battery quickly, especially with the 3D blood and guts, but I really needed to avoid any contact with someone Kaylee’s age. I hoped she got the hint quickly that I wanted nothing to do with her.

A bright-eyed little girl with strawberry blonde hair stepped into my line of sight. She said softly, lisping slightly “Um. Hi. I-I like your thues. They’re pwetty.”

I looked up for a moment and then back down at my game. The little girl said, “Mommy, how come she has such a cool phone? I want one like fhat! Please can I have one like fhat?”

The young mother replied, “No, Juliette. Absolutely not. Now I do as you are told, ask her if she ran away.”

The teenage girl whined, “Shit, she’s got a nicer phone than me. Her parents must be loaded.”

I said angrily, “I can hear all of you talking about me like I can’t hear you. I’m not a runaway. I finished school and now I’m taking the bus to a friend’s house. That’s it.”

I figured my outburst would cause everyone to leave me be, but Juliette returned to my side. She said, “My mommy and daddy do fhat. I hate it! It makes me tho mad. I’m not a baby. I know what fhey mean.”

I shrugged my shoulders, unsure of how to speak to her, “Yeah, it’s a piss off. Look, I’m kinda busy here.” I expected the young mother to chide me again for my language, but she was engaged in a discussion with the grandmother about…well I wasn’t really listening. I was too busy blowing up zombies dressed in military uniforms with cybernetic enhancements.

The girl didn’t leave, instead, she peeked over my shoulder, and said, “Can I have a turn?” I shook my head, and while I tried to look like the grumpiest most belligerent six year old in the world, I was secretly happy. I had no desire whatsoever to play or talk with this girl. Maybe only Ashley had that effect on me?

I felt cowardly for leaving Ashley behind, but I assumed that with Tracy arrested, Ashley was taken to the police station where she would probably meet her thirteen year old mommy. I expected the story to be on the news by now, and I was thankful I wouldn’t be part of it. I knew that I could only be around Ashley in a highly controlled environment, so our reunion would have to wait.

Still, there was a chance that my picture would be plastered all over the news, so I would have to limit the amount of time I spent in public. My only option really was Greg. A previous check of my phone revealed the buses I had to take, and while my bus pass was useless, thankfully, I had pair of old bus tickets. They weren’t my emergency tickets or anything- I just never cleaned out my wallet. I could have played the role of Kaylee, frightened six-year old girl who had lost her bus fare, but I refused. I rejected that role because it wasn’t me. It was the same reason why I didn’t immediately text Greg after I fled the studio.

I needed to do this myself, the same way I had as Ryan. I had taken the bus to Greg’s hundreds of times. I could do it again, even looking like this.

I hadn’t expected the near constant commentary concerning my apparently lax parents, but considering how young I was, maybe the reactions were warranted. Speaking of parents, while I realized I sort of/kind of missed my mom, I wasn’t about to call her and tell her, “Hey, remember that daughter you always wanted? Well guess what…” No, that was not happening. I’d hide out at Greg’s until Tracy was released from custody.

Juliette heaved a gentle sigh of frustration. I could tell she was irritated that I was ignoring her. She saw me as her equal more than likely, so the fact I was snubbing her was probably doing all sorts of wild things to her brain. She asked me, “How come?”

I continued ending the lives of robotic zombies, pleased that my hand-eye coordination had seemingly improved. Or was it just easier to manipulate a touch screen rather than a controller? I answered, “Because.”

Juliette said, “What’s in your bag? I like Hello Kitty too. Do you have a kitty at home? Mine is funny. His name is Mowwis, and he wuns around all cwazy thometimes.”

I smiled to myself. Again, I had no interest in Juliette’s inane conversation or really her very presence. I had no desire to play with her. I started to believe that Dr. Travers’ formula was a complete failure. Or the dose I received wasn’t as potent. The little girl was smiling at me expectantly, desperately wanting me to react to her- to say something. I could see that her two front teeth were missing, which caused her to pronounce all her S sounds as TH sounds. I expected she was probably teased for it.

I replied, “Cool story bro.” It was the ultimate sarcastic response, complete dismissal. I quickly turned back to my game.

Unfortunately, Juliette didn’t get it. She giggled and replied, “You’re funny. I like you.” She slipped her school bag off and said, “Do you like Fwothen? It’s my fravorite!”

Juliette’s mother interjected, “Juliette, how many times have I told you, it’s favourite! You shouldn’t be making that mistake at your age. The other kids will think you are stupid. Listen to how clearly this girl speaks.”

The little girl sighed, and her shoulders drooped, “OK, Mommy. I’m thorry.”

I felt a slight pang of sympathy toward Juliette. It was obvious the girl was nervous, and her mom’s ‘encouragement’ wasn’t exactly helping the situation. I was glad I didn’t have really pushy parents. This returned me again to my mother, and the insane thought of calling her. I flicked to my text messages, seeing that I actually received one from her a few weeks ago.

Mom: havent heard from u in a while plz call i miss u luv mom

I flicked back to an earlier message from a few months ago.

Mom: I was thinking about ur dad today and how alike u r both so stubborn still ur my boys i luv u plz call me I want to know how ur doing

And to two years ago:

Mom: im not mad at u for leaving ryan i know u have to do this ur dad did the same thing when he was ur age i know u r mad but plz remember youll always have a home here i luv u

Juliette got right in my face, gently tilting her head and asked, “Whatsa matter? You look thad. Are you thad?” The little girl grinned her semi-toothless grin and quickly unzipped her school bag, “I know what’ll make you happy!”

I flicked the text messages away. Why didn’t I just delete them? What was the point in actually keeping them? I hadn’t spoken to my mom in two years. Yes, there were times when I would bring up her contact information, waffling back and forth between calling her and deleting her, but I did neither. On my birthday, she would always e-mail me a stupid e-card. It was the type of thing a grandmother would get from her grandkids. My mom was awful with technology, and she texted like a teenage girl. She still had the same sad flip phone that apparently didn’t have punctuation. Not that I was any better, but it was texting, it was supposed to be fast.

Juliette held a plastic doll in her hands, like it was a seven-hundred dollar phone. She grinned widely, “You can play with her. If you want.”

I stared at the doll, wide eyed. It was the same one that Ashley owned, the Elsa figure skating doll. Why were little girls so obsessed with that movie? Memories of my play time with Ashley flooded back. Memories of laughter, of easiness and the purity of childlike imagination filled my mind like a wonderful drug. The second she put the doll in my hands, I felt a smile creep upward. My hands shook gently as I held the doll.

Juliette grinned, “I have Anna too. We can play ice thkating pwincesses!” She pulled another doll from her bag, and by this point, a powerful energy was passing through my body. I felt like I had just eaten half a bag of sugar. I wanted nothing else but to play with Juliette to a point where time no longer mattered. Where hours, minutes and seconds were no longer the way I told time- no, I would pass the time in intervals, moving from game to game until it was time for lunch or dinner or bedtime. Clocks would hold no meaning.

I dropped the doll and ran, Juliette yelled after me, but I sprinted away. I peered back to see if anyone was following me. Thankfully, no one had given chase.

It all made sense now. When Ashley first arrived at the ‘camp’, she told me she wasn’t having much fun, but that changed the longer she stayed there. It wasn’t the presence of the children that caused the change, it was the play. It was acting like a kid. The same had happened to Devon and Mark, but without the ‘camp’ experience.

I was coming up to the next bus stop, but as I ran, I also noticed a sign that read SCHOOL ZONE. Despite the potential danger, I knew that it was past four PM, so school would be out. Thankfully, the bus stop was deserted.

Cars pulled in and out of the school’s parking lot. Some parents stood near the front entrance of the school, milling about and chatting, until shrieks of joy from the nearby school yard brought some running toward their children. It was a bizarre occurrence. The kids had seen their parents just that morning. Why were they so happy to see them? If they were anything like me, who often saw school as a prison, they were happy to see an end to their confinement, but I was never that excited to see my mom. My dad yes, especially after he had been on a long trip, but rarely my mom.

I guessed that the kids in the yard were part of an after school program. I always wanted to join the program, but my mom was waiting at home for me, so I never got the opportunity.

Turning away from the bus stop, I watched the children at play. Most of them were Kaylee’s age, although a few were younger or older but not by more than one or two years. The jungle gym now had the same attraction to me as a brand new video game, or a night with Monique. I stared, mesmerized as the kids went down slides, climbed along rickety rope bridges, slid down poles and tried to swing to reach the sky.

It looked like incredible fun.

A young woman with a nice chest and a decent face turned toward me. She asked me through the fence, “Hi there, do you know if you are supposed to be part of this group? What’s your name, cutie?”

I shook my head repeatedly, “No. No! I’m not. I’m just waiting for the bus.”

The young woman furrowed her brow. She turned to another woman, this one a little older and definitely less attractive. Think dumpy. The younger one pointed at me with clear concern on her features. The older one nodded and handed her a clipboard, and then the younger returned to the fence. She said, “What’s your name?”

I replied with a sigh, “Kaylee Sullivan.” The woman looked down at the clipboard and slowly shook her head.

The woman asked, “OK, well you aren’t part of the after school program here. But I’m sorry sweetie, you missed the bus. Do you know your telephone number? I’ll call your mommy or daddy, and hopefully they can come get you. In the meantime, you can come and play with us.”

I shook my head, “I don’t go to this school. And my mom said it’s OK for me to take the bus.” Even as I said this, the word ‘play’ echoed in my head, and I felt an almost magnetic pull toward the fence. The school yard lay before me, a mere ten feet away.

Again the young woman’s brow furrowed, she said, “You look a little young to be taking a city bus home by yourself. How about we call your mom, and just make sure you know what bus you are taking? I just don’t want you to get lost, sweetie.”

She took out her cell phone and said, “Can you tell me your telephone number, Kaylee?”

I replied, “I don’t know it.”

The young woman frowned, “A smart girl like you has to know her telephone number. I know I’m a stranger, Kaylee. And maybe your parents taught you not to talk to us, but I’m just trying to make sure you get home safely. My name is Dana.”

Luckily, the bus pulled around the corner and approached the stop. However, Dana moved quickly to intercept it.

I shouted, “Hey! I don’t need your help. I know that I’m supposed to take the 67 bus and then the 78 for 20 minutes.” Dana ignored me completely and stepped onto the bus. She said, “This is Kaylee Sullivan. She says she’s supposed to be taking the bus.”

The bus driver, who reminded me of Santa Claus, with his large round belly and thick white whiskers said, “Oh? You don’t see her mom anywhere?” Dana shook her head and replied, “No, she said her mom gave her permission to take the bus alone. She won’t give me her phone number so I can check with her mom.” There was concern in her voice.

By this point, I was furious. Apparently, I couldn’t even take a city bus without a formal investigation. I jammed my bus tickets into the receptacle and snapped, “Look, can I just take the bus in peace here? Yes, my mom said I can take it alone. I’m very responsible. I know exactly where I’m going!” I gave the address to Greg’s apartment building.

The driver raised a big bushy white eyebrow, “Now, I can’t take you all the way there. You’ll need to take another bus.”

I stomped, “I know! The 78 for 20 minutes. Seriously, I’m not a kid!”

I regretted the words the moment they left my lips. The bus driver let loose a deep belly laugh, and Dana laughed softly, although she was trying to stifle it. The two adults looked down at me with amusement, but worse than that, they looked at me like a child who was trying to act like a grown-up, half patronizing and half gushing. It was the same way Hannah used to look at her cat when it did something cute but silly, like attacking my shirt and getting its claw stuck. Goddamn cats.

The driver looked to Dana with a smile, “Don’t worry missy, I’ll look after this little one. And I’ll phone ahead and make sure she gets on that other bus. It’s real rare, but we do have kids riding the bus as young as her, but usually they are lost.”

Dana beamed, “Thanks so much! Bye, Kaylee! Have fun on the bus!” The energetic after school worker exited the bus quickly. All the seats on the bus were full, so I started walking toward the back. Normally, I would been overjoyed to have so many female eyes on me. As Ryan, I was a good looking guy, and despite my weak chin, my tall muscular frame and rugged, yet handsome face, provided much eye candy for the opposite sex (at least, I thought so). Now, however, as I slowly made my way to the back of the bus, I was faced with a very different sort of attention.

I wasn’t receiving the usual wanton, alluring gazes from women- the kind that made me want to slip beside them, knowing that their eyes would dart back and forth, taking in my impressive musculature, the total package. No, as I confidently strode to the back, I saw in women (and some men) not admiration, but the kind of look that accompanied the words, “What a cutie!” and “Oh she’s trying to be such a big girl, how darling!”

As I walked through the humiliating gauntlet of stares and smiles, I heard the bus driver behind me, “Oh, Kaylee! Look, this nice lady gave you her seat at the front of the bus.” He motioned to the seat directly behind the driver’s seat. It was usually reserved for pregnant women and people with injuries, and now, it was my mine. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

The middle-aged woman, who had given up her seat, smiled down at me, “Go on, honey. It’s the best seat on the bus. And it’s all yours.” My cheeks continued to burn. It was clear that people were going to treat me like a six-year old girl, no matter how grown-up I acted. So, rather than face additional embarrassment I clambered up into the seat. My legs dangled, not even coming close to reaching the floor. The feeling of dangling legs was still relatively new to me as all of the furniture in the studio was kid-sized. It made me feel my physical age. The bus got started again with only minor grumbling from the passengers about the delay.

My eyes widened with fear as the bus approached the stop immediately after the school. Waiting at the stop still were Juliette and her mother. The little girl was still clutching her Elsa doll, looking saddened. My heart hammered in my chest as my hands gripped the side of the seat. My whole body shook with the realization that I was going to be trapped on the bus with Juliette for forty minutes. She would put the doll back into my shaking hands, and there would be no escape.

The bus suddenly slowed, inching along similar to an old person shuffling in a grocery aisle. OK, some older people were spry, but I was thinking of the type with bad knees who always blocked the aisle with their carts filled with practically nothing and who moved so slowly, they might as well have been moving backwards.

The driver asked, “Are you OK, Kaylee? You’re looking as white as a ghost, little one.”

I knew exactly why the driver wanted me to sit directly behind him. He could see me in his mirror more clearly that way. Again, I grasped the reality of my situation. The longer I remained in public the more I recognized the world was going to see me as Kaylee. I had to find Greg. I nodded slowly, “Yes.”

The driver said with a smile, “If you need to give it the ol’ heave ho, you just let me know. I’ll try and avoid the pot holes.”

My heart continued to hammer in my chest, like a precision nail gun spitting hundreds of nails a minute. The bus driver opened the door and the old woman and teenaged girl from before both got on. I watched in tremendous relief as the doors closed, and Juliette remained with her mother.

Slowly, my heart stopped its frantic pace. I spent the bus ride on my phone, ignoring all the looks I was receiving. Thankfully, I switched buses without any problems, even though the driver of the new bus treated me in a similar manner to the first driver. The passengers were equally annoying, with one middle-aged continually giving me dirty looks. She wasn’t angry as much as she was disappointed. Again, I got the feeling that being unaccompanied on a city bus wasn’t something most six-year olds did. I did my best to ignore her and the others as I continued checking the news for a story on the studio and what happened there. I was both relieved and disappointed to see that there was still nothing.

If the last forty minutes were any indication, I wouldn’t be treated like an adult for another twelve or thirteen years, and even then I wouldn’t be old enough to drink, although it had never really stopped me before. After all, I had my first beer at fourteen.

If the story broke, and everything came to light, beyond just the imprisonment of minors, beyond the work hours- if everyone knew who I actually was- they would have no choice but to treat me like Ryan Sullivan, right? I was the victim in this, and I was still willing to be Tracy’s guinea pig. However, if she was sent to jail for any length of time, I risked becoming a living science experiment, simply a pin cushion for needles.

I wasn’t particularly trusting of people, although part of it was because I never forged lasting relationships, but I was also wary of naked greed - I had seen it in Ms. Daniels and Dr. Travers. The complete lack of compassion for fellow human beings was evident in both of them. So, while revealing my transformation to the world might yield a cure for my condition, it might also turn me into a scientific curiosity where I would be poked and prodded as researchers tried to pry the secret of the fountain of youth from my body.

The neighbourhood was not the best. It wasn’t plagued with violence, and it’s not like there was gang warfare going on 24/7, but I realized the moment I stepped off the bus that six year olds probably didn’t walk these streets alone. There was once an issue with a sexual assault, to the point where police actually told women to stay indoors if possible, but it only lasted a few days. And there were stabbings, usually one every week. And, while it was an improvement over my place, I still longed for the 9mm that I kept strapped underneath my couch bed.

My dad had taught me how to shoot, mostly rifles, but I got the handgun when I moved to the city. I lived in a neighbourhood where if you didn’t have a gun, you felt vulnerable. That’s just how it was. While the sight of a six year old in a glittery butterfly shirt carrying a handgun would have been laughable, I still would have preferred the safety that it brought.

I was surprised to see that the bus hadn’t left. Someone was shouting at the driver. I looked up at a street light as it blinked, blinked again, and then instant darkness, Suddenly, I heard steps behind me, the surprise nearly causing me to drop my phone.

“Sorry if I scared you, Kaylee. I’m just worried about you being out here alone. Maybe I could walk you to the front door?” It was the bus driver, and it was clear what happened. The bitch who was glaring at me, likely internally cursing my non-existent mother for her lapse in parenting, had convinced the bus driver- or likely nagged the driver until he agreed.

I replied, “It’s OK. My mom’s waiting for me just inside the door. I pointed to the front of Greg’s apartment building.” However, the driver didn’t budge.

He nodded, “OK. I understand you being a little uneasy about a stranger helping you, Kaylee. I’ll just stay here and make sure you get inside the door okay.”

I sighed, realizing that I wasn’t going to win, but still, it was better than him holding my hand. I set off, using my phone to guide me to the front entrance of the apartment building. As I cut a swath through the darkness, a part of me desperately wanted the safety and comfort of the bus driver’s hand. The dark seemed almost alive, creeping toward the light produced by my phone, seeking to rapidly extinguish it.

I took a deep breath, told myself to stop being a pussy and strode toward the door. As I opened the door, I heard the bus pull away.

With a sigh of relief, I keyed in Greg’s apartment number in the directory and the phone in the lobby rang loudly.

“Hallo? Yes. Hallo?” I was greeted with a Middle-Eastern accent. I checked the directory again and keyed in the number. “Yes? Is anyone there? Why won’t you speak?” The voice was gruff, sounding middle-aged or at least like it belonged to a heavy smoker. I heard crying in the background and many voices. Either Greg had finally rented out his extra room, or he had moved out.

My voice caught in my throat. I heard a female voice with a similar accent, “Put it on the TV, Ahmed. I’ve told you many times to do it this way. It’s not a guessing game!”

I sighed heavily and double checked the number. It was the right one. “Um, I-I’m looking for Greg.”

Ahmed said, “I’m sorry little girl, but we don’t know a Greg.” I heard rustling in the background and then the female voice spoke with concern, “Are you sure you have the right number and building?” I nodded my head sadly.

The female voice asked, “It’s late for a girl your age to be out alone. Do you want me to call your parents?”

I shook my head, “No…that’s OK. My mom’s waiting in the car for me.”

The problem was that she wasn’t, and I was out of bus tickets.

The female voice said, “Oh, actually I remember now. We met a nice young man and woman here. They said they were moving across the city.”

That asshole, the second that I leave, he actually grows a pair and moves in with Eve. Here I was thinking it would take him ten years before they finally lived together. I had only two options: I could call or text Greg and ask him to pick me up, or I could play the role of the scared six year old girl and try to get on the bus for free.

The latter was not exactly the favourable option, and there were tremendous risks involved. The bus driver could report me missing, and that would involve the police, which would raise all sorts of questions like “Where do you live?” and “Where are your parents?” Unfortunately, I didn’t have answers to either question.

I left the apartment building and quickly texted Greg.

Me: hey man im back look i really need your help can you pick me up im at your old place

A few minutes later, I got a text.

Greg: hey! Good to hear from you I thought you were shooting that movie in Canada and I told you that Eve and I moved in together it was a month after you’d gone

Me: what the hell are you talking about I didn’t say any of that stuff to you

Greg: I’m looking at an email you sent me less than a week ago you said the shoot was going great I thought you weren’t coming back till the summer

Me: I haven’t had any access to my phone for like two months or something I couldn’t have sent those emails what the fuck man

Greg: are you high man I can’t come get you if you are Eve doesn’t like it when you smoke you get all weird

Me: fuck me just come get me I’m at your old place and hurry

Greg: lol whats the rush don’t tell me you are scared of my old place it makes your neighbourhood look like the hills

Me: just fucking hurry

Greg: hey man I’m going to bring Eve we can go out to dinner celebrate your success in Canada

Me: yeah man whatever

Great, now I’d have to explain my condition to Eve too. It started to rain, so I slipped back into the lobby of the building. Early spring in Los Angeles was characterized by plenty of rain, which tapered off into what were usually dry and very hot summers. I sighed lightly, the memory of my road trip to Malibu barrelling back into my mind. So much tanned flesh, so many skimpy-barely there bikinis. If I was trapped as Kaylee, this summer would be much different.

I had missed nearly the entire winter, or at least the months with the most rainfall. I hated the rain. It might have been a pussy thing to say, but the rain ruined camping trips, it caused shitty cars with no 4X4 to get stuck, and generally, it put people into foul moods, especially customers. They were there for comfort food at the Palace, but they treated the serving staff like doormats they wiped their shit-covered shoes on.

I sighed. How the hell was I going to do this?

Half an hour later, I got a text from Greg:

Greg: shit its really coming down there u inside the lobby me and eve are outside

Me: im coming

I didn’t move a muscle. I stared down at my phone, with the dwindling battery, and at my pink shoes with glow-in-the-dark sparkles, and I simply couldn’t move. I felt another panic attack coming on. I had never had them before, but it was obvious what they were. My mom suffered from them each time the news talked about soldiers being killed, and the next of kin, not yet being notified. I growled, fighting against the sudden wave of dizziness that struck me, the rapid heart palpitations and the tightness in my chest. She went on some stupid pussy medication, but she still cried. She just wasn’t shaking like a mental patient.

How was I going to tell them? I looked down at my shirt, and I had my answer.

***

As Greg had described, the rain was coming down heavily, which was unusual for this time of year, but then, I was actually a man, so perhaps perspective was important. I put my phone in the Hello Kitty backpack and then used it like a makeshift umbrella as I dashed to the car. The dead streetlight and the rain provided the perfect cover for me to slip toward the car without being seen. I threw open the door and before either Greg or Eve could say a word, I jumped into the backseat.

The smile of welcome fell off Greg’s face, becoming a confused frown, “Hey, kid. Uh, sorry you got the wrong car.” He was growing his hair back, but he still looked like his next of kin was Humpty Dumpty.

Eve turned to Greg and shook her head, “She looks scared. Maybe she’s lost. We can’t just push her out in the rain. We have to at least get her name, you know make sure she’s not missing.”

Greg replied, “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course we’ll help her.”

Eve looked at me the same way the bus driver, Dana, the old woman at the bus stop, the middle-aged woman who had given me her seat, and the new bus driver had. She had a softness to her eyes that I had rarely seen. Had I annoyed her that much as Ryan? Combined with the softness, however, was a soothing tone and gentle touch. Just a quick pat on the hand, which is likely how she dealt with patients Kaylee’s age. I wasn’t, however, a real kid, and I was at my boiling point.

My breaking point consisted of a stream of profanity. “Fuck! I’m so sick of being treated this way. All fucking day long it’s been like this. OK, I look like this, but I’m not actually like this. I’m Ryan. And I don’t know what kind of bullshit you are talking about with me going to Canada. I’ve never been there.”

Greg burst out laughing and said, “Fucking, Sullivan. He pays a kid to act like him in a storm. I’ve gotta give him credit, he hasn’t lost his touch!”

Completely opposite to this, Eve looked like she might breathe fire, searing the flesh from my bones and then picking them clean. She turned away from me, “This isn’t funny at all. He makes us come get him in really bad weather. And he pulls this. And he’s got this poor little girl involved in it. Well I’d like to talk to her mother. Who allows their young daughter to just jump into the car of a total stranger in this neighbourhood?”

Greg was still snickering, but his laughter was subdued in the face of Eve’s anger, “He probably sweet talked the mom. You know how he is. He’s a great performer.”

Eve clucked, “He’s a great liar.”

Greg cleared his throat gently, “You don’t think it’s a bit funny? Come on, Eve- have a sense of humour.”

Eve huffed, “I have a sense of humour. But it progressed past the fifth grade. I don’t know about you but I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s just go home.”

I said, “Really? Lost your appetite? I’d say it keeps finding you.”

Greg smirked, but, seeing Eve’s face, he quickly assumed a more neutral expression. Despite this, I could see he was still fighting back against the waves of laughter that threatened to surge and turn Eve from angry girlfriend to monstrous man-eating she beast.

Greg said, “Eve, even you’ve got to admit, this is impressive. He taught this kid his worst joke. But yeah I’d say joke’s over now. Let’s get you back to your mom, OK?”

Eve replied, “I really hope Ryan doesn’t think he can stay with us. He didn’t even call ahead. He’s so inconsiderate. Just like with Jessica- ...”

Greg turned away from me, “Woah, we’ve been over this. He was in the hospital for a few days. You know how he is. He doesn’t like people seeing any weakness in him, so he wasn’t going to want any visitors. You just need ...”

It was Eve’s turn to interrupt now. She said, “I need to what? Relax? Because this sexist and inconsiderate jerk is ruining the only night we actually have together this week? Sure, Greg- I’ll relax. Fine, whatever about the visitors, but he had plenty of opportunity to text Jessica. And aren’t you mad that he just took off without even saying goodbye? I can’t believe someone like you puts up with him. You are so much better than him. I’m serious, Greg- let’s go.”

Greg said gently, “Eve, hey cut it out, you’re upsetting the kid.”

Eve replied, “I just never liked him. Even less so when he started trying to date my friends. He’s a loser, Greg. You said it yourself.”

I was upset. The anger long since drained from me. My former stone-like façade, the wall of brick and mortar that I built to stave off emotions had crumbled, and underneath a deep and widening chasm had formed. Within that chasm, filled with the broken pieces of stone, was a torrent of emotions that escaped whenever they saw fit. Powerful and unwieldy, they pierced my mind and caused unusual and dramatically effeminate behaviour. Yeah, I know some guys cried- guys like Greg, but previous to my transformation, I could have counted the number of times I really remember crying on one hand.

Eve looked back at me and said, “Aww, it’s OK, you don’t need to cry. We’ll take you back to your mommy, OK?”

I felt a gentle tear dribble down my cheek, my chest quickly constricting and my breathing coming out in rapid bursts. As was common in this body, my emotions fluctuated, the sadness giving way to fury. I yelled at Eve, “I-I never liked you ei-ther!”

The bizarre emphasis I put on the word ‘either’ should have been a concern, but I was furious, and allowed my emotions to get the better of me. Normally I solved such things with sex, violence (as I had done with Greg when he questioned me about Monique), video games and/or weed. The anger I had toward Eve, as well as myself, in knowing that there was some truth to her words found an easy vessel in my youthful form.

I looked to Greg, while fiercely wiping the tears away with my sleeve, “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Letting your fucking girlfriend say all this shit about me. Oh and I’m the loser?! You’d still be fantasizing about your hand and Taylor Swift without me. In fact, without me, you wouldn’t even have Eve. I was the one who approached her and her stupid friends. You were too much of a pussy.”

Eve and Greg stared at me, looking different shades of flabbergasted. Eve’s mouth hung open, and her eyebrows raised skyward. Greg looked even more stunned, however, as his head tilted to the side, his lip curled in an almost Elvis-like fashion and his eyes half closed.

Greg took his phone out and a second later, I felt my backpack vibrate. I removed my phone, which still felt like a tablet computer in my hands, and placed it on the seat next to me as it continued to vibrate Greg said, “OK, so he gave this kid his phone and told her all these stories.”

Neither of them took their eyes off me. Eve said, while her eyes slowly blinked in disbelief, “She doesn’t sound like any little girl I know. I’ve met Jessica’s niece. She certainly wouldn’t know what masturbation is.”

Greg said, “My cousin was like that. She said fuck all the time. Her parents let her watch these violent movies. It’s possible. I-I wait…is that?” He peered closer, seemingly staring at my shirt. I slowly shook my head, anger and sadness still boiling at the surface of my mind.

Greg turned to Eve, “This is going to sound crazy. Like really, really crazy- but I think that actually might be Ryan. I mean beyond the stories and everything and OK the masturbation thing- that’s his dad’s pin, and he never joked around with it. He wouldn’t lend it to someone for a prank.”

Eve cleared her throat gently, “I-I know. And the way he told the story about how his dad got it and what it meant to him. I just remember hanging on his every word. I just- I don’t know how it’s possible.”

I said quietly, “Travers. You remember all those messed up things that happened to me after I got that shot? The muscles, my voice- uh, my Adam’s apple. I remember being in the ambulance and then blacking out. They did something to me in a laboratory, and it eventually turned me into this. Then, they made us act in the Hermie show. I’m the only one left now. Everyone’s had their memory wiped, and the person who helped me escape, she was arrested.”

Greg said, “Oh shit, the ambulance. We actually followed it, man.”

Eve sighed heavily, “It’s my fault actually. Greg wanted to follow it. He didn’t trust what was going on. But he figured it was some organ stealing operation or something. Well we followed it a bit, but it started driving erratically, so I asked Greg to turn around.”

Eve continued, “When we didn’t hear from you after a day, we got worried. We called all the hospitals in the area and none of them had a record of you.”

I blinked in surprise, “You were actually worried about me?”

Eve replied evenly, “Yeah. I was. We were. I-I didn’t mean all those things I said about you. I guess it is true that without you, I never would have met Greg.”

I asked, “But you meant some of them.”

Eve nodded and supplied a curt, “Yes.”

She continued, “Anyway, so we didn’t hear from you, but I know it’s possible to request that a stay at a hospital remain private. Hospitals don’t have to divulge that kind of information. You actually have to sign a form indicating that visitors are OK and that info about your stay can be released. Well we figured you wanted to get better first, because you really looked bad, so we gave you some space.”

Greg said, “When we got an e-mail a week later from you saying that you’d moved to Vancouver, well it was pretty much exactly what I expected. I thought you took my advice about the Hermie show and found something that would actually help you get experience on the kind of shows you wanted to work on.”

I shook my head, “I never sent any e-mails to you. I didn’t even have access to my phone until about two weeks ago. And I didn’t have any service. What show was I supposed to be filming?”

Greg replied, “A prohibition era documentary. You were playing the role of a gangster. Look at the e-mails you sent. I could have sworn it was you who sent them. It’s exactly the way you write and everything. You sounded really excited about it. You were supposed to come back during the summer at some point.”

Now it made perfect sense why they kept our phones. They were sending texts and e-mails to family and friends, telling them we were fine. I expected they did the same with Ashley and the boys too.

Neither Greg nor Eve had taken their eyes off me since their realization.

Eve asked, “You said there were others in there with you?”

I nodded, “Yeah, three. Two boys and a girl. I don’t know what happened to them after I escaped, but they were too far gone. They were basically kids in mind and body. Something about the serum, it actually shrinks the brain. Basically, if you act like a kid a lot or you are surrounded by them and play with them a lot, you become exactly like them. Tracy, she’s the one who helped me, she said it’s almost like a virus. It’s more fucked up than just the Hermie show, but honestly, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

The memory of almost becoming the daughter of a madwoman, forced to live a life filled with obsessive and frankly scary love, was still very much at the surface of my thoughts. Not to mention, seeing Dr. Travers get the needle treatment, over and over and over and over again.

Eve regarded me curiously, “So they were recruiting actors to be child actors. I get that part. But why make you a little girl? I mean mentally, it’d make sense to use an adult woman if you want a believable little girl. Are you-…like physically? Completely…? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

I said, “They planned to use the serum to basically create this high-end adoption agency. They were even using convicts and bums. Well the way I get it, there’s a lot more male convicts and bums, so they had to know if it worked on men. Plus, as Dr. Travers said, I’m a bastion of masculinity. They wanted to see if the serum worked on me, if it could turn me into a real little girl.”

Eve rolled her eyes, “Sure, OK Ryan.” She turned to Greg, “I’m convinced that’s Ryan. You?”

Greg couldn’t hide his smirk. “Yeah.” He quickly grew serious, “So as far as I understand it, there is a potion thing that makes people younger. And you said Tracy, she was helping you, and she was arrested? How come none of this is on the news?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t know. I mean there was so much stuff there. The lab equipment- everything. It’s all legit. And Dr. Travers- he had a lot of notes. Computers with info on them too I’m sure. I took pictures of some of them with my phone. It’s probably a huge scientific discovery.”

Eve nodded rapidly, “I should think so. What you’ve described is like the fountain of youth. It’s just about the greatest discovery in this century and probably last century. Still, it makes sense that it wouldn’t get out. There’s probably other interests involved too. If something like that did get out, well it might completely unbalance society. Create a world where there’s no aging, but I guess that would cause population issues. Wow, I mean if I wasn’t staring at the effects of the serum, I’d never believe it.”

I found myself glaring at Eve as she unravelled the puzzle without all the information. I said begrudgingly, “Yeah, the government apparently knows about it. Pharmacy companies. The government apparently gave the green light for the experiments on the convicts and the homeless.”

Greg, ever the optimist said, “How is it possible that the government could care so little about its own people?

I replied, “Well it’s not the government exactly, but some kind of group inside the government maybe.”

Eve asked, “What happened to the people who did this to you, were they arrested too?”

I lowered my head, the memory of the needles puncturing flesh repeatedly, sending my heart racing, “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

Greg and Eve shared worried looks, and then Greg broke what was an awkward silence. “OK, let’s go out to dinner. Ryan, it’s your choice.”

Greg had a certain talent in diffusing situations, even explosive ones between Eve and myself. He brought a calm and serious presence to most conversations, and while I didn’t like to admit it, he had at times talked me out of what would have likely been chargeable crimes. They weren’t serious, but definitely enough to give me a record.

I shook my head, “I don’t really want to be out in public right now. The moment I left the studio, people just saw me as this little kid, and they treated me that way. I don’t want that reminder. You know how some of the servers are with kids? Especially the girls. Fucking Samantha, I don’t need someone like her calling me honey or sweetie and handing me a kids menu and being all oh my god what a little cutie. You know?”

Greg said, “Well we could go to a restaurant where the serving staff are really rude. We both know the one.” He grinned.

Out of habit, my hand formed a rapid fist, which connected solidly with Greg’s arm. “Fuck you, man. I’m not going to the Palace looking like this.”

He reached up and gingerly rubbed his arm. He smirked, “Fuck you, too.”

Eve said, “I’m still really hungry, and I don’t care if we get drive-thru or pizza. We can just go back to the apartment and watch movies. Sound good?”

I grinned and emitted a high-pitched cry, “Sounds perfect!”

I could feel my face light up at the prospect of a movie marathon, and the energy that pushed me toward the school yard before and tingled in my fingertips when I held Juliette’s doll caused me to bounce up and then down on my seat. There was no second bounce. The look of confusion and partial worry on Greg and even Eve’s face halted any further bouncing. My behaviour was highly uncharacteristic of Ryan Sullivan.

As Ryan, I was aloof. I had an I-don’t-really-give-a-shit attitude that permeated my relationships and even just simple interactions, especially with women. It was usually what worked to attract vulnerable girls. They worked to gain my attention, and they were the type that really wanted to please. In essence, I was a laid back and relaxed type, but my transformation had infused my body with a youthful energy that played havoc with my previous personality. I had been quick to anger as Ryan, but the anger rarely lasted more than a few hours. I didn’t keep grudges because I would end a relationship or leave a job before a lasting hatred could develop. The joy I felt since my transformation, especially when I played with Ashley, the pure unadulterated fun filled me with an unbelievable sense of happiness, and of belonging. However, that same joy was also what threatened to destroy me, to reduce my mind to Kaylee’s physical age.

I quickly said, “It’s cool. I mean…the movies.” I tried to act as smoothly as possible, as if I was trying to impress Greg and Eve for the first time.

Greg pulled out and headed toward the freeway, while Eve asked, “So, do we tell anyone else? Go to the media?”

I shook my head rapidly, “I don’t want anyone else to know what happened to me. And the news? I don’t know. It’s just really embarrassing. I feel like a freak.”

Greg said, “But going to the media could help you. Getting the story out there means that there might be others who could look for a cure.”

Eve, who was still looking back at me, frowned gently, “Or exploit him. I think we need to wait and see what happened to this Tracy person you mentioned. She’s really in the know about it.”

I knew that Tracy wanted me to spill everything to the media if something happened to her, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to face the world as Kaylee. There would be hundreds of questions that followed and then my life, my ability to choose might be taken away. What if the doctors who examined me determined it would be better if I stayed a kid? Then, I’d have to go to school, and at that point, Ryan Sullivan would slowly cease to exist.

Even worse, what if they poked and prodded me incessantly? What if I lived my second childhood in a medical lab? I shivered at the memory of Dr. Travers, the guttural scream that forever severed my image of his robot-like self as the pained sounds revealed his humanity.

At least if I was staying with Greg and Eve, I could choose what I wanted to do. They would never make me go to school or force me on play dates with kids my apparent age-no, through them, Ryan Sullivan would live.

If, that is, I could get along with Eve.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 13

My eyes stung like I had been pepper sprayed. I could speak from experience because I had actually been pepper sprayed. It was when I first started dating Monique, although she would never have called it that, and she had invited me to a GMO or maybe it was a cruelty for animals protest or something- to be honest, I was really more into Monique. Unfortunately, Greg hadn’t been there, because if he had, he would have talked me out of mouthing off to the cop who proceeded to down me with a quick spray. I was lucky I wasn’t arrested, but, on the plus side, I also found out that Monique wasn’t just hot, she was ridiculously creative in bed. It turns out that she was really turned on by police brutality.

I let out a shriek of pain as my tear ducts immediately tried to flush away the offending substance, but I was momentarily blinded. My left foot slipped, I staggered and my hand snaked out for something to stop my fall. A hand caught me and gently pulled me up. The hand was soft with long fingernails.

Eve shouted, “Are you OK, Ryan?! Did you hurt yourself?” It was the next day, and I’d decided to take a shower, which should have been simple enough, but unfortunately, it wasn’t.

I shut my eyes tightly, the soap still stinging my eyes. The shower was still running, but a moment later, the water stopped. I yelled, “Get the fuck out of here, Eve! I don’t need your help!”

Eve gently released her grip on my hand and said matter-of-factly, “It kind of looks like you do. I’m a nurse, Ryan. This is nothing new to me. How’d you manage to get soap in your eyes?”

I continued to keep my eyes tightly shut. “Look, I can do this myself.”

I wasn’t about to tell Eve that I had used Greg’s shampoo, and thinking it was completely rinsed out of my now long, unbound hair, I opened my eyes. As the water from the shower struck my head, the shampoo which I had failed to rinse out quickly ran down my forehead and into my waiting eyes, causing immediate burning and itching.

Eve replied, “I really don’t think you can. Here’s why. I can see you’ve still got shampoo in your hair. It’s really thick and long. And you can’t just rub a bunch of shampoo in your hair like you used to. Plus, you are going to get major tangles the way you are doing it now.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Well then I’ll just chop it all off. I never bothered much with it. When it was bath day, Ashley helped me with the hair, and she redid the style or whatever. But that was back when I was trapped in the studio. There’s nothing stopping me from just cutting it all off.”

Eve looked at me like I was considering murder. Her eyes bugged out of her skull, and her jaw hung open, “But your hair- you have such beautiful thick, long hair. Most girls would kill for hair like that.”

I nodded, “Well I’m not a girl, so it’s a pretty easy decision to make. I already told Greg to get me some boys’ clothes that will fit. I’ve only got the shirt and jeans I wore when I met you guys. And there’s no way I’m wearing the dresses I brought.” I managed to slowly open my eyes. My tears had washed most of the shampoo away.

Eve nodded slowly, “Your eyes look really red. Let me put some drops in there.”

Despite the slight relief, Eve was right, my eyes still felt extremely irritated, and I actually did need her help. There had been times when I had an early shift, and I’d crashed at Greg’s place. This in itself wouldn’t have been an issue, except for my bloodshot eyes, which meant I was still usually feeling the effects of the pot I’d smoked hours before. Vince hated when I came to work high, so I’d usually try and hide the effects. Unfortunately, I never had the hand-eye coordination to use eye drops, but thankfully, Eve was always willing.

Still, at this point, I was naked and with my vision restored, I noticed that Eve had taken an interest in my body. It definitely wasn’t anything sexual- she certainly wasn’t leering, but it was more of a fascinated stare. It made me feel tremendously self-conscious, a rare experience for me. Even in the studio, Ashley gave me my space. Yes, she helped me wash my hair, but she never stared at me. It reminded me a little of the way Dr. Travers examined my facial expressions when he first gave me the so-called vaccine, but far less creepy. Still, it caused me to gently shiver.

Seconds later, I felt a towel wrap around my shoulders and then a hand gently patting me dry. I turned around and regarded Eve furiously, “What the hell? I’m staying here because you guys know who I am. Quit treating me like a fucking kid!”

Eve said, “Sorry, Ryan. It’s a force of habit. I work in the children’s ward of the hospital a lot. When I saw you shivering, well I just sort of spring into action. I can cut your hair if you want.”

I nodded, “Fine, and quit looking at me too. You got your question answered from yesterday. But just in case you didn’t get a good enough look. Yeah, it’s a complete physical transformation.”

I slid the towel off my shoulders and around my waist, exactly like I did when I still had my male body. Now, however, instead of revealing a firm, toned chest, it revealed a slim, mostly concave shape. I guess the saving grace was that I didn’t have a pair of boobs dangling from there, but at least if I was an adult woman, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing my freedoms and my intellect.

I stepped out of the shower, but I could feel my hair, which was still soaked, hanging against my back. The strands stuck together, forming a thick hair-shaped snake. Droplets of water tumbled steadily from my hair, wetting my back.

Eve shook her head slowly, “You’ve still got shampoo in your hair. Bend over the tub.” Eve removed the showerhead and stood over me.

I felt a tiny tingle in my brain as Eve prepared to wash the soap out of my hair. It wasn’t a sexual response, especially since the t-shirt she was wearing displayed what I viewed as a prominent muffin top. It reminded me of when I was back in school, and I was, unsurprisingly, sitting in the chair in the office waiting to see the principal. I couldn’t remember exactly what I had done, but I think it involved throwing rocks at seagulls. I hadn’t really wanted to, but the new kid in school always has much to prove. It turned out I had to stay in for multiple recesses, but each time, the secretary, Ms. Booth would speak to me, tell me stories, and she would ask me about my day- she made me feel welcome in a place that had been scary before.

Was I starting to react like a kid, or was this a normal response to feeling welcome, supported?

I sighed gently, “We aren’t telling Greg about this.”

Eve nodded, a little smile lining her face. I bent over the side of the bath tub. I closed my pained eyes as Eve quickly removed the rest of the shampoo from my hair. The hair, which reached just over my shoulders, was then patted dry with another towel. After that, Eve had me lean my head back as she carefully inserted two soothing drops into each eye.

Eve said, “I can cut your hair now, if you want.”

I pictured myself with short hair, the spiky bedhead look or even a military-style buzz cut. My eyes caught the reflection of a little girl in the mirror. Her long straight blonde hair, still matted and stuck fast to her back in places. It was in the perfect state for a serious trim, no longer sopping wet, but damp. The little girl in the mirror, however, didn’t want her hair cut. How would mommy put her hair in a ponytail, the hair sweeping gently across her shoulder? She’d never be able to go as Elsa for Halloween with such ugly short hair.

I blinked slowly, and the reflection did the same. I couldn’t understand why I was having these thoughts. I had stayed away from children as much as possible. Had my interactions with Ashley implanted something within? Were these childlike thoughts nestling deep within my brain, like a deadly parasite that would eat away at the remains of my adult and masculine self?

The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. In that moment, Eve seemed like a wonderful blanket, a soft downy cover to embrace me with a gentle warmth. I fought the urge to reach out my arms toward her, but as I did, my anxiety worsened. My heart and my breathing increased, each one ostensibly trying to outrun the other. Just cut the fucking hair. Cut it.

Eve gently put down the scissors she had pulled from the medicine cabinet and said, “Breathe, Ryan. Slowly. In and out.”

Was I starting to identify as Kaylee? It seemed impossible, but here I was, and I didn’t want to see my so-called beautiful hair reduced to short tufts. I stared at myself, Eve’s words barely registering, my heart and breathing matching a sprinter’s pace.

It was Eve’s fault. She had called the hair beautiful. She had infused the little girl with confidence- with a sense of identity. I separated Kaylee from Ryan as I had in the studio, telling myself I was just playing a part. But why was it even necessary? I wasn’t trapped in the studio any longer, and I wasn’t around any children.

Still, was the bouncing in the car Eve’s fault, or the powerful desire to play whenever the opportunity came, in the form of playgrounds and dolls?

Gradually, I managed to calm down, as I continued telling myself that my thoughts were irrational. It was one bounce, and it would never happen again. If I remained in the apartment at all times, I wouldn’t have any interaction with children. As for the hair, I would gather my courage at another time, a point where I wasn’t wearing only a towel and a time where my insecurities would not cause me to nearly hyperventilate. I would sever the long locks, and hopefully, that would sever my connection to Kaylee.

Eve stared at me wide eyed, “Are you OK, Ryan?”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s no big deal.” Once again, I adopted an air of cool and calm.

Eve shook her head, “I’m not sure about that. Does that happen often? I’m wondering if you are suffering from some post-traumatic stress. I know that patients I’ve dealt with at the hospital, when they’ve been in a serious accident, or especially girls who have suffered sexual assault- it changes them.”

I snapped, “What are you suggesting? That I see a doctor? I don’t exist, Eve. Not anymore. You can’t tell anyone that I’m here. Not until we find Tracy. Why do you care so much anyway? I feel like you don’t even want me here.”

Eve replied firmly, “It’s no secret that you and I don’t have a great track record, Ryan. You could be extremely sexist at times. And very inconsiderate. I thought you took advantage of Greg a lot, the way a good friend wouldn’t. And the whole thing with Jessica really pissed me off. But-…”

As she paused, Eve’s expression changed, looking at me the same way she had in the car when she thought I was a real little girl. The softness returned to her eyes, her voice was gentle, likely the same one she used to soothe frightened children at the hospital. “You clearly need help. And you’re right, this is probably the safest place for you while Tracy is in custody.”

I nodded slowly, Eve’s words acted as a warm blanket to my growing insecurities. I should have told her not to use that tone with me, but it seemed counterproductive to argue with her. It’s not like I was going to let her speak that way to me all the time.

I asked, “Was Jessica really mad? You know about me not letting her know about the date and the hospital or whatever?”

Eve’s expression firmed again, the hardness returning to her eyes, “Mostly she was worried about you, and kind of annoyed that you were doing this stupid macho thing where you didn’t want anyone to see you in the hospital. When you didn’t text her at all she said that was it. She’s seeing someone else now.” Eve seemed to say the last words with some satisfaction. I felt my bottom lip quiver slightly, which immediately altered Eve’s expression. Once again, she adopted a soft tone.

“But it hasn’t been that long. Maybe a few weeks. He’s a bank teller.” She cleared her throat, “He’s kind of boring.”

I grinned, “Really?”

Eve nodded, “He’s older than all of us. And he’s always telling us about investments and 401Ks or something.” She laughed, “We don’t exactly have a lot of extra money here. Even with Greg becoming assistant manager at the Burger Palace.”

My heart dropped into my stomach, my eyes gradually shifting to look at my little feet, the toes painted with the bright purple polish. While I didn’t have much in the way of opportunity prior to my transformation, I had nothing now. The girl that was supposed to help me break the cycle of one-night stands and booty calls, and the position that could have allowed me to grow up, to take on new responsibilities were all gone. As I worried about this, my mind started to drift, and I noticed for the first time how the light reacted with the polish on my toes. Sunlight gently warmed the room causing the polish to glitter. I could see little sparkling specks of glitter on each toe, and it immediately lightened my mood. It was so…pretty.

“Ryan? So, do you want me to cut your hair?”

Eve’s words cut through the strange spell I had fallen under. My head shot back up, and I caught my reflection in the mirror. I desperately wanted Eve to chop it all off, to see the golden locks tumble from my shoulders, forming a neat pile at my feet. At the same time, however, I pictured myself with short hair, and I felt a powerful aversion to the idea.

What the hell had the doctor done to me? The serum had more layers to it than I thought. Even without playing with kid toys and avoiding children, the sinister tendrils of the serum still poked and prodded at my brain matter. The word ‘pretty’ had never been part of my vocabulary, hot- fucking hot, but pretty? Never. It was like my brain was a room, and someone was slowly but steadily filling it with stuffed animals, plastic dolls and painting it bubble gum pink.

I was little by little being suffocated by my own mind.

I looked at Eve, and then at the long tresses that hung past my shoulders and slowly shook my head. I attempted to speak, but the words were lodged in my throat.

Eve asked, that softness returning to her eyes, her tone gentle, “Are you OK, Ryan?”

I nodded slowly, “Yeah.” I forced the anger to come, but my voice was surprisingly weak, “Quit…asking me. I’m fine, really. You can cut my hair later.”

Eve said gently, “OK, Ryan.”

***

“Yes! This part is sick. Rewind it!”

Eve complained, tossing popcorn at me, which quickly lodged in my hair, “You’re sick. In the head. We’ll never get through these movies if you keep running it back every few minutes.” The movie in question was Saw, and while I preferred the later movies for their gratuitous gore, I appreciated the deviousness of the traps and the slow-burn detective plot.

Greg laughed, “Give him a break, Eve. He’s been trapped in kiddie hell for months. This is how gore hounds relax.”

It was two days later. Eve hadn’t asked to cut my hair again, and surprisingly, I hadn’t bugged her about it either. I thought about it, at least a few times per day, but I just never gathered the courage to ask her. Besides, I was sheltered in the apartment, and while I only had a couch to sleep on, I wasn’t sipping lemonade on a porch, wondering if my madwoman mother was going to strangle me in my sleep either. Ms. Daniels had what I would call ‘scary love’. She was the type that expected, at all times, to be loved unconditionally, and even with a complete memory wipe, I expected there would be points where I would fear her.

I had nothing to fear here. Greg and Eve treated me like a twenty-two year old man, and while Eve faltered at times, I always reminded her who I was.

As I watched Jigsaw’s victim crawl through the maze of barbed wire, each cut he received leading to additional blood loss, I began to see parallels to my own life. The character crawling through the wire was suicidal but he realized that he did want to live, so began the razor sharp trek. With regard to myself, I had nearly given up in the studio. Each time I failed at what had been a simple task as Ryan, I returned to the bedroom to mope, and each time, Ashley was there to pick me up- to convince me to continue.

And now, I was the only one left. And yet, I couldn’t bear the thought of how I would look with short hair. To me this was a form of defeat. Ashley stated that I had never failed because I never tried, well- I was desperately holding onto Ryan Sullivan, watching as the serum picked me apart like vultures on carrion, leaving nothing except for gleaming white bones- Kaylee.

I was trying, and I was failing.

Still, as I watched the unfortunate victim journey through the barbed wire, I was pleased. Greg’s description of me as a gore hound was correct. The bloodier the better, and I was overjoyed that I could still watch a gore fest. The monsters that had plagued me in the studio were gone- the ones that seemed to live only in the darkest places- the ones that grinned when I closed my eyes in the shared bedroom. I knew they weren’t real and now that I was away from a world free of mad scientists and forced acting, it was far easier to tell myself that the creatures weren’t real.

Despite the setback regarding my hair, at least I could still enjoy a movie that would terrify and probably scar most six-year olds. I knew this because we had watched Goodfellas my first night in the apartment, and it is extremely graphic. My favourite scene occurs after the heist at the Lufthansa cargo terminal. One of the conspirators, Frankie Carbone, is seen in a refrigerated meat truck, his frozen-stiff body hanging like a slab of beef. I couldn’t explain exactly why I loved the scene so much, but I guess it just epitomized the brazen and ballsy behaviour of the gangsters in the movie. You knew they were getting caught, but you’d be along for a hell of ride in the meantime.

Watching these movies told me that Ryan Sullivan still lived and breathed. I hadn’t gone to sleep and had terrible nightmares or had to resort to a nightlight (not that Greg and Eve even had one), and these were welcoming signs, despite the hair, that my adult self was whole.

Eve said, “Well you guys can watch it. I’m heading to bed.” Greg stood up and kissed Eve on the lips and then sat back down next to me. I rolled my eyes and reached for another slice of pizza. Seconds later, the bedroom door closed.

I said, “So did you two finally do it? Or have you become more of a pussy since I left?”

Greg stared at me incredulously, as if trying to piece together hundreds of unsolvable mysteries. I glared at him, “Fuck you, man. Don’t look at me like that.”

Greg shook his head slowly, “Sorry, Ryan. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get used to words like that coming out of this little kid.”

I said firmly yet also half joking, “Well you’d better get used it, or I’ll kick your ass.” For good measure, I made a quick fist and punched Greg in the arm.

Greg frowned, “OK, that’s actually starting to sting. Anyway to answer your question, well it’s really between me and Eve. You know she doesn’t like me talking about when and if we have sex.”

I sighed heavily, my whole body becoming limp as I slid slowly from the couch. “It’s pretty simple, have you had sex or not?”

The frown never left Greg’s face, “Why do you even want to know? I know you’ve had sex lots of times. You and Monique don’t just sit there and talk. I know that. But why are you so interested in what Eve and I do? Am I less of a man because I don’t have sex 24/7 or something? Come on, man. Tell me.”

I looked at Greg in surprise. The backbone he had acquired was impressive. I wasn’t sure if it was Eve or the new job, but the spineless pussy Greg who I could constantly borrow money and bum rides from seemed to be gone. It might have had something to do with my current body.

I replied, “It’s nothing like that. Quit ragging on me. I just want to- you know,” I took a moment to take a bite of pizza, and then continued with my mouthful “if you…did. I want to…congratulate you.” I bit into the crust, which was a little hard and felt something give in my mouth. “Fuck!” I looked down at the crust.

Greg looked down at the crust. Lodged within the cooked dough was one of my teeth. It had actually been loose for the past few days, but I mostly tried to ignore it, making sure to chew away from the tooth. However, it was impossible to ignore now. My tongue snaked upward, exploring the space that once held one of my two front teeth.

My mind immediately rocketed to Juliette and her lisp. I stared down in horror at the lost tooth, fearful that the other would loosen soon. I figured I had all my adult teeth because they were so straight. I had never seen a kid with such straight teeth, but I knew now that it was part of the serum, and while I would likely never have braces, I was going to lose my baby teeth, including my one remaining front tooth.

Greg asked, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a tooth. Jessica’s niece has lost a bunch of teeth, and you’re about her age. She’s seriously got the cutest...-“

I interrupted, my eyes flaring in anger, “The cutest what?”

Greg cleared his throat. Neither of us were watching the movie now. “She’s just got a cute way of talking. I-I’m sure it’s a kid thing. You won’t do it, man. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

I nodded, completely unconvinced, “Sure. Yeah. Look, this movie isn’t doing it for me. You want to play some Halo?”

Greg said, “Our usual team? You know that everyone has to have mics on, right? They always do team speak. You’ll get booted if you don’t have a mic.”

I replied, “Yes, I fucking know that.”

Greg stared at me silently with a sense of expectation. When I returned his stare with a glare and another stinging punch to the arm, he broke the silence, “It’s just- I don’t think the guys are going to want to play with a kid. I know who you are, but you can’t sign in with Ryan Sullivan’s account and go on team speak sounding like that.”

I replied angrily as I hopped off the couch to get a controller. “If I’m good then what does it matter?”

Greg sighed, “It’s an elite server. Yeah, your ranking puts you on there, but can you play still? Maybe we should play against bots first.”

I growled, “Are fucking kidding me? Bots? Fucking bots? You did not tell me to play against bots.”

Greg said firmly, “OK, here’s how we’ll do it. One-on-one death match. First one to five. If you beat me, then you are ready for the elite server.”

I scoffed, “You are the lowest ranked on our server. How does that prove anything?”

Greg replied with a smirk, “Because you should beat me easily.”

I nodded, ready to accept the challenge. While I had stopped playing the Gameboy, I still felt like my hand eye coordination had improved, and even though I was rusty, I was positive I would still destroy Greg.

We started up the game, and I immediately noticed an issue with the controller. The batteries weren’t dead, and the buttons weren’t sticky- no, I was faced with a problem that new batteries and a wet paper towel couldn’t fix. The controller was simply too big for my now tiny hands.

I had to grip the controller toward the middle to even reach the top face button. However, this made it harder for my thumb to reach the right joystick. This wouldn’t have been an issue in a slower moving game, but in a first-person shooter, it was a death sentence. While my hand eye had improved to the point where I could line up my shots, the moment I did, I would have to choke up on the controller to reach the fire button. In the half second it took to adjust my grip, Greg had either moved, or he had put a bullet in my head.

The game was over in six minutes.

“Fuck! OK, I want a rematch. And get me some new batteries. I swear, halfway through, this fucking thing died on me.”

Greg got up from the couch, went to the kitchen and brought me brand new batteries. We started the game again, and I was dead three times in three minutes. Greg’s face was surprisingly expressionless. I expected him to be gloating and trash talking me. He didn’t even tea bag me once. For the uninitiated, tea bagging involves crouching and then standing over the corpse of your opponent. The movement makes it seem like the victor is lowering his balls on the corpse repeatedly.

I growled, “Switch controllers with me. There’s something wrong with mine.” Greg handed me his controller without a word.

One minute and thirty seconds later, Greg won the second death match. I hadn’t landed a single hit on him. I said stubbornly, “OK, one last time.” By this point, I was gripping the controller tightly, my knuckles white.

Greg slowly shook his head, “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta open tomorrow.”

I sighed heavily. Greg was an absolute saint compared to me. He knew that his promotion bothered me, it was the job I should have taken, and because of that he said very little about the Burger Palace- not even about his new powers. I doubted he could fire people, but I figured he could order them around. I would have liked that, and I think I would have liked the challenge too.

I cleared my throat gently, “Uh, thanks- for you know, letting me stay here and everything.”

Greg replied, “No worries, man. Me and Eve are just happy you’re safe now. And don’t worry, we’ll do whatever we can to help you get back to normal.”

Greg went to his room, and I started a new game. I didn’t choose the elite server, or even a lower ranked one. The selection cursor hovered over practice game, which included a bot mode. I made my selection and played well into the night. Sleep tried to whisk me away, to lower my awareness, to close eyelids adorned with full, long lashes, but each time my head drooped, I forced it upwards. Even as my body cried out desperately for sleep, I fought it fiercely.

I had always been a night owl, and I wasn’t going to let my transformation change that. When I finally fell asleep, it was with the controller still in my hand. As I dipped between a state of awareness and full on sleep, I silently celebrated. I had managed to stay up late, or what felt like a very late hour. While playing the game, I hadn’t been checking the time, but it seemed like it was well past midnight.

Sometime during the night, I felt the controller being gently pulled away. Seconds later, a blanket covered me, and I nestled against it, pulling my legs up into my chest. I could have sworn I heard a gentle “aww”, but then I also had a dream involving my current form and a torture chamber full of gushing old ladies who enjoyed pinching my cheeks and kissing my face.

***

I awoke to the smell of coffee, and while that usually meant Monique was up, probably wearing nothing but a pair of thong underwear, leaving her massive boobs naked as she dangled them over my face trying to wake me for another round, it also sometimes meant the girl who I wanted to leave had stayed the night.

I ran the show, and I was always very clear with what I wanted. I asked the girls if they wanted to have fun. Every guy knew what that meant, and most girls did too, but there were some who were clueless. One poor girl actually thought that we were instantly dating the moment we slept together. She texted me so often that I had to block her number. Sex does not lead to any obligations- well safe sex at least.

Was it wrong what I did? I never really thought so because I was always upfront with the girls. If something changed from the moment we left the dance floor or the bar to the bedroom, it was up to them to speak their mind.

The cobwebs cleared slowly as my eyes fluttered open. With this sudden awareness, I realized that I was actually sleeping on a couch, and taking up very little of the three seat sofa. I was also made aware of another simple fact- I was really, really grumpy.

Dishes clanged together and cutlery scraped across a plate. This is likely what woke me up. I peeked my head over the couch and saw Eve in her nursing scrubs eating a plate of scrambled eggs. I grumbled, threw off the blanket, and proceeded to walk into the kitchen.

Eve smiled, “Wow, if I didn’t know you were Ryan before, well I’d know now. Still tired? Oh, there’s some eggs left for you.” Eve was annoyingly chipper, like a server that was trying too hard for a tip.

The clock on the microwave read 7 AM. It’s no wonder I was both tired and in a terrible mood- I had probably only had about four hours of sleep. Still, there was nothing stopping me from going back to bed right after breakfast. A deep yawn erupted from my body as my arms lifted skyward.

I heard a barely audible “aww” followed by cutlery scrapping across a plate. I growled, “Quit looking at me like that.” I pulled a chair from the dining table and quickly retrieved a plate down for myself. I could barely reach anything in the apartment without a chair. Eve wasn’t especially tall, and she needed a chair for the top shelf of the cabinet, but I needed one for the middle and bottom shelves too.

Eve said, “Sorry, I’ll stop. You know me, I can’t really help myself.”

I grumbled, “I know. I still get your forwards with the babies, puppies and kittens.” Despite Eve’s tough no-nonsense exterior, she had a softer side that I had rarely seen. Since my transformation, however, I had experienced it often.

Eve smiled, “How come you are so tired? I pried that controller out of your hands just after 11.” I helped myself to a plate of eggs and sat across from Eve.

My jaw dropped, and I replied quickly, “What the fuck? Seriously? It felt like it was 3 AM.”

While in the studio, we sometimes filmed between 10 to 12 hours a day, but we always started early. I was rarely in bed later than 9 PM. I assumed that the stress of the transformation and the confinement, coupled with the long hours we spent shooting the show, contributed to my exhaustion. Now, however, I stayed in the apartment and watched movies mostly or played Xbox.

I also scoured the news for any sign of what happened in the studio, but beyond that, it wasn’t a very tiring day.

Eve said gently, “Now that I think about it, it actually makes sense. It’s perfectly normal for kids your age to sleep 10 even 11 hours a night. That isn’t something you can control, Ryan. I know you are used to staying up late, but it’s very much against how your body is wired. I’ve seen it with the kids in the hospital, especially the night before they are going to go home. Or even worse, when it is Christmas Eve. They don’t want to sleep, but no matter what, sleep always finds them.”

I glared at Eve, “Nothing about this is normal. And don’t compare me to some stupid kids in the hospital. I’m not like them. It’s just because I was used to going to sleep early in the studio. It’ll be better once I’m completely off that schedule.”

Eve nodded slowly, “Sure, Ryan. I’m sure it will.” I finished eating and deposited my plate, which I hadn’t bothered to rinse, in the sink.

A moment later, Eve’s voice took on an authoritative tone, “You’ve been here for a few days now, and I know things worked differently at your place, you know with the whole mountain of dishes, but I want you to clean up around here during the day. This isn’t a hotel. If you are going to be staying here, you need to help out.”

Eve’s reaction to my laziness wasn’t surprising. I had always known her to be a clean freak, and the fact she hadn’t spoken up before was more shocking than not. Her request was completely logical- not to mention reasonable. I had left dirty clothes on the floor beside the couch, and I hadn’t offered to wash the dishes or do any cleaning whatsoever. She and Greg were providing free room and board- not to mention food and clothes. It was really the least I could do.

However, something within my brain acted as a barrier to the simple request. I realized that even the most meagre cleanup would keep me from my games and movies. The three minutes that it would take to load the dishwasher, or the two minutes that would be wasted picking up my dirty clothes would be five minutes in total that I wasn’t playing.

Eve looked at me expectantly, and as I opened my mouth to object to her valid request, it closed slowly.

A second later, it reopened. I nodded, “No problem.”

I knew what had doomed Mark and Devon. I’m sure that Ms. Daniels devised some punishment for them after the near escape. That punishment likely contributed to the demise of their adult selves, but it was clear the near constant play was also an important factor in their change. Mark and Devon talked nearly non-stop about the game and how they wanted to return to it. I peered at the Xbox and its white plastic case. I longed for the familiar whir when it powered on, and the gentle green glow of the power button. Every second I wasn’t playing was time wasted.

Eve asked, “Are you OK? You look a bit spooked.”

I nodded, “Just something I figured out. Listen, um, this might sound weird, but can you- can you take the controllers to work with you?”

I figured that it wasn’t the play itself, but the obsession with it that had defeated Mark and Devon. Each time I played with Ashley, I felt a similar pull. When I watched the children going down slides and swinging, or when Juliette put the doll in my hands- play was my only thought. It was exactly like a kid. Even though I hadn’t been a kid for many years, I remembered what it was like to be eight and stare out the window and then peer at the clock, desperately hoping that the recess bell would ring to save me from the torment that was the third grade.

While at work, I did think about what I was going to do later, whether it was playing a game or hooking up with a girl or just hanging out and watching movies, but I was still able to keep my mind on a task. My mind wandered back to my time off, but it rarely affected my job. Now, however, I had to forcibly remove it from my mind, and even now, I wanted to just press the little button in the middle of the controller to turn on the system. The game would help me forget how seemingly every day, I was losing a piece of myself.

The more I thought about it, the faster my heart would beat. The tightness returned to my chest, and my breathing came out in short gasps.

Eve nodded her head and put the controllers in her purse, “Are you going to be OK here by yourself?”

I snapped, “Did you really just ask me that? For fuck sakes, Eve- I’m a grown man. You can’t be treating me like a kid. It might start fucking with my head.”

The young woman frowned lightly and lowered her head, “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Ryan. It’s just- I’m…never mind. I’ll see you tonight.”

After Eve left, I pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil and practiced my letters, taking time to write out each one multiple times. I still struggled with the curvier letters, but my ‘R’ had improved to the point where I could close the loop. I grinned down at the paper.

I couldn’t wait to show Greg and Eve.

***

“It’ll make you feel better, man. It always did.”

I shook my head and said through clenched teeth, “That’s because I’d usually sleep with one of the waitresses. You think I want to go back there looking like this?”

Greg said, “Eve and I really think you need to get out of the house though. It’s been a week since you got here, and you haven’t been- well you haven’t been yourself.”

It was morning. Eve would be back at the apartment soon, returning from a twelve hour overnight shift, while Greg was about to start a 9-5.

I snapped at Greg, my voice rising in pitch as I grew more upset, “Oh, so what you’re my fucking parents now? Jesus Christ, Greg- how the hell am I supposed to act? We haven’t heard anything from Tracy. And there’s been nothing on the news. Eve said she called pretty much every police station in town, and none of them, none will admit they took anyone into custody from the studio.”

I added, “Without Tracy, I’m trapped like this. And every single fucking day, I feel like I’m fighting against myself. You know yesterday I saw these girls just skipping rope? And it looked like so much fun, as fun as sex with Monique and Jessica. At the same time. Fuck, I’m going crazy.”

Greg said, “That’s why you need to get out of here. Come on, man. It’s your favourite restaurant.”

I shook my head, “No way. All the waitresses will make these stupid goo-goo eyes at me. You know the look, it’s how Eve looks when she sees a baby with a puppy or a kitten. I’m safe in here from cheek pinching, gushing bullshit and constant reminders of how I look.”

Greg smirked, “You’re not that cute.”

I retorted, “Fuck, you man. That’s not what I meant.”

Greg replied, “I’m just trying to get you to lighten up. It feels like I’m living with this little emo kid who mopes around the house all day writing bad and depressing poetry. Yeah, it sucks, but I’m not sure if depriving yourself of everything you like- and really what makes you Ryan- is the way to go either. I’m not saying go play skip rope or whatever, but play a game of Halo with me before I go. All you do is sit there and watch 24 hour news. Shit, man, you’re like my dad. Except he’s really into the weather channel.”

He added, “Here, I got you this.” Greg handed me an Xbox 360 controller. It was still in the package.

I stared at him blankly, “How does this change anything? The controllers are too big.”

Greg smiled and then used a pair of scissors to cut open the packaging, freeing the controller in the process from a number of plastic ties. He placed it in my hands, and I noticed an immediate difference. My hands cradled the controller, and instead of constantly choking up on it, I was able to comfortably position my hands in a way to enable me to reach all the buttons.

I knew that this was a kid-sized controller or at least one for someone with tiny hands, but I didn’t really think about it. No, I was thinking about how it would help me finally beat Greg’s ass.

We started a game, and the new controller did wonders. The half second it took for me to adjust my grip was gone. Now, I was able to properly line up my shot and pull the trigger, and with that, I was able to ‘kill’ Greg every time.

I started to feel better, like my old self. By the end of the second game, I was trash talking and had tea bagged Greg three times. I said, “I guess we can go to El Casa. I haven’t had the flaming enchilada platter in like three months.”

Greg nodded, “And you can wear the clothes I bought you. Before we go too, Eve can cut your hair.”

A deep, powerful sense of uneasiness passed through me. It was similar to the feeling I had after my last conversation with Hannah, and the moment I realized she had outgrown me. I thought many times about going to visit her or even enrolling at the same college, but instead, I just wrote her out of my life. I replaced her with girls like Monique, or easy girls I’d pick up at last call (if I was feeling desperate that night), and the uneasiness, the sense that I had made some poor and potentially life-altering decision went away.

It seemed impossible that such a thought could ever haunt my mind, that something as simple as a haircut could cut so deeply, but my hesitation spoke volumes as to my bizarre connection with the blonde locks. I desperately wanted to shear every strand from my head, the long flowing golden hair acting as a constant reminder of my current physical shape, but I couldn’t allow it.

My mind went back to the boys in the studio, the Ken dolls, Greg, the bus drivers, all of them had short hair or no hair.

The Barbie dolls from the studio, however, the Frozen toys, the girls on the box of the ridiculous Dream Phone game, Ashley, Tracy and even Ms. Daniels- all had long hair, like me.

While it was frightening that I was beginning to identify as a girl, it was even more terrifying that I had made such a simplistic comparison. It was the type of deduction a child would make, probably one even younger than Kaylee.

To this point, I had been dismissive of Dr. Travers’ serum and its lasting mental effects. If I could avoid childish play, the serum was powerless. Within the studio, the serum caused me to blurt out my desire to play with Ashley, but I did so without thinking. However, this was the first time I realized that my thinking pattern had been influenced and perhaps irrevocably altered, by it.

I wasn’t only acting like a child- I was thinking and problem solving like one.

Greg put his hand on my shoulder, but I quickly threw it off. I glared at him, “No way, man. No fucking way. First Eve, and now you. You can’t be doing this shit. You have to treat me like Ryan.”

Greg nodded, “Alright. Well there’s no use waiting for Eve. I’ll just use my shaver on you.”

Greg went to the washroom, and I began to fidget uncharacteristically. My fingers wiggled, looking like worms crawling over each other. My left leg shook as I pictured Ashley’s Elsa doll, the one with the beautiful long braided hair. My mind then conjured the image of me with a buzz cut. The powerful uneasiness returned, along with a rapid heartbeat and hurried breathing.

Greg returned with the shaver and said, “Okay, time to-…Hey, Ryan? Hey, are you OK?”

I nodded, “Y-Yeah. Uh, let’s j-just wait for Eve. Your hair is awful, man. I don’t t-trust you with that thing.” I meant to speak smoothly, denigrating Greg’s hair in typical Ryan Sullivan fashion, but my muscles just wouldn’t cooperate. My face burned with the realization that I was stuttering in front of someone that I verbally owned on a routine basis.

Instead of laughing at me, Greg’s features took on a worried look. I really expected him to be rolling on the floor, but then I remembered he wasn’t me. Well, I wouldn’t have laughed at him, at least not to his face.

Greg said calmly, “Yeah, it’s cool. Eve will want to sleep a bit, but she’ll probably do it before we leave. So you good with El Casa?”

I said firmly, “Yes. I already told you that. And I’ll ask Eve about the hair when she gets up.”

Greg nodded, “Sure, man. See you tonight.” The look of worry never left his face.

***

“Goddamn, this fucking thing is pissing me off!”

I yanked at the shoulder strap, trying to adjust it so it wouldn’t press against my neck constantly. The rush hour stop-and-go caused my body to lurch forward, allowing the shoulder strap to practically strangle me and the lap belt to dig uncomfortably into my stomach every time Greg hit the brakes.

I shouted, “Can you try and suck less at driving? Maybe hit the brakes more evenly? You’re going to make me sick.”

Eve mumbled something to Greg, who slowly nodded his head. I only caught my name but nothing else. I said, “OK, I know you guys are talking about me. What the hell did Eve say to you Greg?”

Greg cleared his throat gently. A whole three seconds passed before he spoke. “She said you should probably be in a booster seat. I know that Jessica had one for her niece when we went for ice cream a few weeks ago.”

I laughed hard. Hard enough that my stomach pushed firmly against the lap belt, causing slight discomfort. “You’re fucking kidding, right? Those are for babies.”

Eve said, “Boosters are different. They just make it more comfortable to sit in the car. Safer too. The chair will raise you up so the belt goes across your chest.”

I stopped laughing. “You guys are serious? There’s no way in hell that I’m sitting in one of those.”

Words escaped from my lips without even a thought. “You can’t make me.” These words were followed by dual looks of concern and then silence.

I could see Eve playing on her smart phone. A few seconds later, she said, “It’s actually against the law. It says here that she’s supposed to be in a booster until she’s at least eight year old. And all the things she’s complaining about- well those are clues that she needs to be in a booster.”

Greg replied, “Yeah, but this is Ryan. We can’t expect HIM to sit in something like that.”

Eve shook her head, “All I see is a pouting little girl back there who doesn’t want to follow the rules. It says here you could get a big fine for this. Like a thousand bucks. And do we really want police involved in this? We aren’t Ryan’s parents. What if they start asking questions? There’s a Wal-Mart near the restaurant, let’s get one there.”

Greg looked at Eve and then back at me. By this point, I was outraged, not only at the treatment, but Eve’s pronoun use. Greg turned to Eve and mumbled something. Eve did the same.

Now I was being excluded from the conversation. I let loose a long shriek, my voice rising in pitch, as my vocal chords constricted. The high-pitched screech ended all conversation in the car. As I screamed, I felt my little body fill to the brim with outrage, and I balled my tiny hands into fists. My anger, like a volatile gas waiting for a match, had exploded uncontrollably. I wanted to tell Eve and Greg to stop mumbling or whispering or whatever, tell them to stop treating me like a kid because it was pissing me off, but my words were lost within an overpowering sense of rage.

This anger cut through my brain, reducing reasoned thought and conversation to another scream. The world around me simply ceased to exist, and even the reason for my tantrum left me. There was only anger.

I hadn’t realized it, but Greg had pulled over. This fact only became apparent when I realized both Greg and Eve were just staring at me, eyes and mouths wide open. The world rematerialized.

Greg said, “Ryan- Ryan- Ryan! Hey, calm down. It’s alright. We aren’t getting a booster. We’re just going to try and have a nice dinner.”

Despite Greg’s assertion, Eve’s expression told me that this argument wasn’t over. It would likely continue behind closed doors.

Even though I apparently got my way, I was terrified with how it happened.

I blinked, my face bewildered, “What the hell just happened?”

Greg looked at Eve expectedly, and her expression softened. She replied, “Just a little lapse. I’m sorry for calling you a little girl. I guess that didn’t help things.” She added firmly, “We can talk about the booster another time.” Greg shook his head, and Eve cast a withering look in his direction. He wavered and then quickly entered traffic again.

The memory of the tantrum was like a fresh wound, a bleeding mess of shredded tendons and muscle, lacking a tourniquet or even a simple Band-Aid to stop the constant flow or medication to numb the pain. Like that pulsating wound, the anger was still palpable, more than simply bubbling at the surface, it sat at the corner of my mind, a firm reminder of my failure to contain my emotions.

Still, they weren’t going to make me sit in a booster? Right?

I’d have to talk to Greg.

***

“Just pick a name. It’s not a big deal. We’ll only use it when we’re in public.”

I sighed heavily, “Can’t you just call me Ryan?”

Greg said, “You don’t look anything like a Ryan. How about Kaylee? You’re used to answering to it, right? It should be pretty natural. I think Eve is right, we don’t want to make anyone suspicious.”

I narrowed my eyes, “How do you know about that? I never told you what they called me in the studio.”

Eve replied, “We caught your show one morning. Well, we thought you were in Canada at the time, but Greg wanted to see the role you’d turned down.”

My face reddened as I shook my head. My long hair unbound hair swished from and forth. “How much did you see?”

Greg said gently, “Relax, Ryan. I know you were just acting. So, Kaylee is definitely a sore spot for you. Riley is close to Ryan. How about that?” I still hadn’t told Greg and Eve about the full reason why the name Kaylee was such a sore spot. It was mortifying to think I would have to explain to Greg or even Eve that a madwoman had plans to make me her daughter. Kaylee was also the name tied to my imprisonment and to the slow erosion of Ryan Sullivan.

I replied, while trudging into my favourite restaurant. “Fine.”

We entered El Casa, a so-called fusion restaurant. It was both a steak house and an authentic Mexican eatery. It wasn’t pretentious or elite, but it wasn’t a Taco Bell either. The smell of cooking meat, along with the chipotle, lifted my spirits. I breathed in, allowing the spicy smoky air to fill my nostrils.

A big smile spread across my face as the greeter said, “Welcome to El Casa! Table for three?”

The greeter smiled at me, but after, she immediately turned her attention to Greg and Eve. Greg nodded, and we were seated at a booth. The actual restaurant wasn’t large, with only six booths and a small number of tables in the middle. One girl I had brought to El Casa, called it intimate. I guess it was. It lacked the massive footage of a typical steak house, but I preferred it that way.

It kind of felt like it was mine, a place I had discovered that I shared with a select few. I knew that this wasn’t true, and that it had hundreds of online reviews, not to mention, the place was packed tonight. Still, El Casa was special.

For other reasons too.

A young Latino woman, absolutely stacked, handed out the menus. I didn’t recognize her, but then, there was high turnover. I could attest to that seeing how the Burger Palace went through two line cooks in two weeks once. Dishwashers and bus boys were worse. One guy I remember, he quit at the end of his first split shift. I spent the morning training him, and he never came back. And he had the fucking nerve to ask for his pay. It took Vince and Greg to convince me not to break the guy’s face when he came for his cheque.

I’ll admit, I loved the food at El Casa, but it was like their policy was to hire only the most exotic and beautiful women available, and that was a serious perk. I gazed at the young woman, eyeing how her breasts jostled in her shirt, how her legs moved in the short skirt, which was apparently the uniform for servers there. She was a little chunky around the middle for me, but for her boobs and ass, and that gorgeous face- I would have made a serious exception. Her caramel skin and shiny raven hair definitely got my attention too.

Still, my eyes always seemed to return to her boobs. I stared longer than I would have as Ryan, desperately hoping that I would feel something more than just a tingle. It’s not like I wanted to do anything physically- that was so wrong- and just gross, but I needed to know that the attraction was there. Amazingly, I found that it was. My roaming eye, which could at certain points take on a laser-like focus, had zeroed in on the twin globes.

“Here you go, sweetie.” The young woman, this goddess in flesh, handed me a children’s menu. Then, she set a small pack of crayons on the table next to me and said, “You can draw on your placemat, or even make some pretty pictures on the table. I bet you can’t do that at home, right?” She smiled at me and winked at Greg and Eve, saying, “Don’t worry it’s washable. She can go crazy with colours!” Even with my relatively androgynous clothing (Greg had bought me white t-shirts and jeans in my size), my hair gave away my gender. Boys just didn’t have hair that was over shoulder length, and mine was longer than that.

That afternoon, after I heard Eve shuffling in her bed, I went to the door many times. I raised my hand to knock, but I couldn’t gather the courage to ask her to cut it. I kept picturing myself as Kaylee with a bald head as Greg stood over me triumphantly, brandishing the shaver. The feeling of uneasiness was too powerful to overcome. I kept telling myself that I would ask Eve to trim my hair, but the two of us just sat there watching a stupid movie, barely saying a word. Worse still, a part of me wanted to get underneath the blanket with her, to feel her closeness and to allay my fears.

As for the server, I couldn’t fault the young woman for her treatment of me. As someone who had his fair share of experience with children eating in restaurants, the first rule was that you always keep the kids busy. Crayons, stupid faces, games- whatever. If they were entertained, then the parents felt at ease, they would come back. Even an incredible meal could be ruined by a temper tantrum. Some people probably felt embarrassed, which in many cases, they should have. Some allowed the kids to do anything, which usually involved large messes. The worst I had seen involved some kids running and knocking over one of the eight plate trays. The ones for the patio.

The waitress said, “My name’s Paulina, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Normally, I would have had a beer, but since that was out of the question, I just wanted a coke. I took a quick look at the kid’s menu and frowned- no flaming enchiladas. Before anyone had a chance to answer Paulina, I piped up, “I want a normal menu.”

Paulina smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of look I wanted, which was sort of a mix of bedroom eyes with a play-hard-to-get smile. It was the same one the bus drivers gave me, the one right before they said: “Wow, you’re such a big girl riding the bus by yourself.”

I sighed and seconds later, it came. Paulina smiled and handed me the menu, “Well I guess we have a little lady here tonight! OK. But I have to explain something to you. See these little peppers next to each dish? That means it’s spicy.”

I rolled my eyes, “I know…I’m not stupid. I can read. It says it here. Five is volcanic spicy, four is five alarm, three is hot tamales, two is tamed heat and one is mild.”

Paulina looked at Eve and Greg in admiration. Clearly, it was impressive that a girl my physical age could read so well.

Eve said with a measure of hesitation, “Um, we read to her every night since she was two.”

Paulina replied, “It shows. That’s really amazing. How old is she?”

Feeling left out of the adult conversation, I decided to rejoin it, interrupting Greg, who was in the process of opening his mouth. “I’m six. And I’d like a coke.”

Paulina smiled at me, but she again turned to Greg and Eve, “Some parents don’t like their kids to have a whole can. I can bring her a fountain drink instead. It’s in a tumbler and about half of what’s in a can. It’s up to you guys of course. I can bring her the can too.”

I said quickly and firmly, “I want the can.”

Greg looked at Eve, each appearing indecisive. Then, they both looked at me. Finally, Greg said with strong uncertainty, “Um- well- I guess. The tumbler. Yeah, bring her the tumbler.” Eve seemed to be in agreement. Paulina smiled and left with the orders.

I glared at Greg, “What the fuck was that? I wanted the can.”

Eve snapped, “Riley, language!”

Greg, as if sensing impending doom or at least additional embarrassment, quickly leaned in to whisper to me, “Remember that you are supposed to be a kid. I know it sucks to have to play that part, but you did it really well on the show. And I can see you’re still Ryan. It’s only for one night. Just enjoy the meal and try not to look at Eve and me like you want to put us through some Saw-like booby trap. I’m guessing one with spikes. Lots of spikes.”

I smirked, “Just don’t overdo it.”

Greg was one of the only people that could successfully calm me down. It didn’t help him when he was the object of my anger, but in this instance, Eve had whacked the hornet’s nest with a baseball bat.

Paulina returned two minutes later with the drink orders. She asked with a smile, “Do you still need a few minutes to decide?”

I made eye contact with Paulina and said firmly, “I’ll have the flaming enchiladas platter.”

Paulina’s happy expression grew immediately pensive, her pleasant smile becoming a concerned mask. Her eyebrows furrowed and worry lines creased her youthful features. “Are you sure about that? It’s really spicy, sweetie. There’s some fun dip nachos on this menu. They come with three different dipping sauces. Does that sound yummy?” She held up the children’s menu, which featured a cartoon mouse wearing a sombrero.

I shook my head and said, “No, I want that. I like spicy food.”

Paulina turned to Eve and Greg, and with that simple action, my ire rose again. The waitress shifted her eyes back and forth from Eve and Greg, but they never returned to me. She said, “Has she had that before? She seemed to know exactly what she wanted.”

Once again, Greg played the rapid mediator. He said, “Yeah. She’s had it before. Don’t worry about it.”

Paulina smiled and took the other two orders. Eve was clearly unimpressed with Greg’s quick interjection. The moment after Paulina left the table, Eve huffed lightly. Either Greg wasn’t bothered by it or he had figured out how to tune it out. I, however, was left thinking Eve wanted me to eat off the kid’s menu. She treated me like a kid way more than Greg, telling me to clean up and especially when she washed my hair. Could she actually be enjoying seeing Ryan Sullivan trapped within such a slight feminine frame?

I sent a less than gentle sneer in Eve’s direction, which made her react in mock innocence. A moment later, Greg started a conversation about the upcoming classic car expo at the civic centre, and I quickly forgot about Eve’s behaviour.

A few minutes later the conversation shifted to an age-old debate. I said, “Come on, man- you drive a fucking Hyundai. There’s no way we can even have this discussion. The ‘67 Mustang beats the ‘67 Camaro in every single category. First of all, the ’67 Camaro was just a copy of the original ’64 Mustang. The Camaro handled like a shopping cart compared to the Mustang, and it was way slower. Bigger engine on the Camaro didn’t make it go faster with a heavier load.”

Greg nodded, “Okay fine, but you have to admit that the ’69 Camaro looks way better than the late 60s Mustangs. That and the shock towers, you could put almost any engine in a Camaro from that era. It was more customizable.”

I grinned, “Curves. Every Mustang has curves. The Camaro is like a flat chested girl. The Mustang, it’s like our server. Amazing depth to the body.”

Eve interrupted, speaking in a hushed voice, just loud enough for Greg and I to hear, “Might I remind you that you are supposed to be a six-year old girl? Because you really don’t sound like one.”

My tongue travelled to the front of my mouth, passing gently over my teeth. It exited my mouth but stopped short of being fully extended. Greg looked at me with concern, while Eve was clearly amused by the fact I had almost stuck my tongue out at her. Normally, I would have given her the finger or insulted her weight. They were classic deflections, but the insults, and especially those related to her weight, usually had her immediately on the defensive.

I couldn’t think of anything clever and instead blurted out, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” My tongue again passed gently over my teeth seemingly trying to exit my mouth, causing me to quickly shut it.

Thankfully my moment of weakness lasted only that long as Paulina brought three plates of delicious smelling food. I breathed in the amazing aroma, the spicy chillies tickled my nostrils, filling my mind with a pleasant photo gallery of memorable moments. Beyond any other place, El Casa was my safe zone. I’d never had a bad meal there or a bad experience.

Yes, I’d slept with a few servers there, but like Monique, they understood that it was just messing around. It was hard to pass up incredible food and sometimes incredible sex. Greg used to ask me about the secret to my success, and it was simple- confidence without being cocky. Most women like confident men- men who know what they want. I would own the room first, catch the woman’s eyes gaze and lock onto them, just enough to let them know my interest.

I was never pushy, and I always knew when a girl wasn’t interested- case in point, the night I met Eve. I could usually tell when a girl wanted to play hard to get. She would cast these eyes toward me, letting me know my presence bothered her, but if I caught her looking, and they usually did, I knew they wanted to play hard to get. I’d been slapped before at least a handful of times, usually when one of my lines backfired or I completed misread signals, but it was rare. Unfortunately, I could never teach Greg my secret because he didn’t have the capacity to own every inch of a room. He needed more aggressive girls like Eve to make the first move. Still, they had moved in together, and it must have been Greg who asked…right? If not, well it was just something else I could tease him about.

Paulina deposited the plates in front of us, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she stared at me pensively, her face adopting a careful smile. It was unusual behaviour for a server to stay and watch customers consume the food. Usually, a server checked after a few minutes to ensure everything was to the satisfaction of the customers, but to stay and almost stare? It was weird, and it immediately made me feel anxious.

Eve and Greg had also turned their undivided attention on me.

I glared at the assembled eyes, taking a turn with each to let them know my displeasure. I said, “OK, you guys are freaking me out. Just let me eat in fucking peace.”

Eve caught Paulina’s eye and frowned apologetically. She then shook her head slowly and said, “Riley, that’s enough. We’ll go home right now if you don’t start behaving.”

I clenched my teeth, fiercely grinding down on them to the point of pain. I leaned in and whispered harshly to Eve, “You’re pushing it.” I then looked to Greg and then motioned to Eve. It was time for him to get his girlfriend in line.

Paulina said hesitantly, “I’ll be back in a few minutes to make sure everything is OK.”

I nodded and reached down for my fork, cutting a large piece of enchilada, making sure I had a good mix of cheese, chicken, onion and tortilla. It was far too big for my mouth, but I stuffed it in there anyway.

Before I could even pull the bite off the fork and begin to chew, my eyes opened wide in shock and the bite soon found its way back onto my plate. Half a second later, it felt like there was a fire in my mouth, as every inch of my tongue was seemingly covered by tiny dancing flames. The heat spread over my tongue until it filled my entire mouth with an intense and painful burning sensation. Immediately, my eyes began to water and my nose started to leak.

Paulina returned to the table quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I realized she had likely been hovering behind me, waiting for me to sample the enchilada. She pushed the tumbler of coke away and set a glass of milk in front of me. I wasn’t stupid. I had bitten into an uncooked Jamaican hot pepper once. It is amazing what pot and too much beer can do to a person. I loved spicy food, but this was beyond what I was used to, it scorched my mouth and brought tears of laughter to the eyes of Danny. He was the same one who thought it would be funny to get so high we could pretend we were crippled. Even through the haze of the drugs and alcohol, I knew what I had to do. I ordered a white Russian, and then a mudslide.

So, as my eyes watered and my nose leaked pathetically, I downed the milk. Within a few moments, the burning sensation subsided.

Paulina smiled gently, “You are brave to try a new food, Riley, but with spicy foods, you have to start at very mild. Your enchilada was a level 2.”

I sighed heavily- I couldn’t even stand tamed heat. Worst of all, I couldn’t enjoy my favourite meal.

Paulina looked at Eve and Greg, “If you want her to be able to eat spicy foods regularly, it’s a good idea to start her with strong spices. The chef here suggests cumin, garlic, cinnamon. This will expand their palates. Then move onto a dollop of hot sauce, a low level one. On a hot dog or hamburger. If she can take that move up a level gradually. Kids have really sensitive taste buds. This method worked for the chef’s kids apparently.”

Eve smiled, “Thanks, we’ll try that.”

Paulina nodded happily, “In the meantime, I’ll bring Riley something really special. She’ll love it!”

My shoulders slumped and I leaned down to take another sip of milk (Paulina had refilled it after I downed the first glass). I peered longingly at Greg’s beer and watched him wash down a mouthful of his quesadillas with the frothy import. Paulina had put a multi-coloured crazy straw in the milk, but I refused to use it. Although, it would be fun to watch the milk pass through all the loops on its journey to my mouth. I shook my head firmly and removed the straw from the glass.

Nothing was said as we awaited Paulina’s surprise. No words were necessary- Greg and Eve knew that I was mortally embarrassed- humiliated beyond belief. Defeated by tamed heat, when previously I could even take volcanic spicy in small doses. This small seemingly insignificant fact drew a clear line of separation between Kaylee and Ryan. It would probably take years to build up my tolerance to reach volcanic again. It was what made a relatively bland melange of onion, chicken, chipotle, salsa and tortilla, pop.

Greg and Eve ate their food silently. I couldn’t tell if they were watching me because my eyes stared downward. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt movement behind me, followed by something light being slowly lowered onto my head.

Paulina said excitedly, “We usually only do this for birthdays, but it’s a special night and I want you to have a great time, Riley.” A platter entered my line of sight, and it was quickly deposited in front of me. I raised my head, seeing what was initially offered to me- the fun dip nachos. I reached up to touch the object on my head. I knew what it was instantly.

A paper crown.

The seemingly innocuous object awoke my slumbering imagination. My mind was filled with wonder as I pictured the games I could play with the thin cardboard crown. Paramount in my mind, however, and unsurprisingly was Frozen.

I could be Elsa, Queen of Arendelle.

A tiny smile appeared on my face, however, a moment later, I snatched the crown from my head and tore it, but in the process, I upended my glass of milk directly onto my plate of nachos. They were ruined. Eve, Greg and Paulina watched the whole event in shock.

In one solid motion, Greg grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the restaurant. As I was being pulled away, I heard Eve apologizing profusely to the waitress.

***

“What the fuck was that? You dragged me out of there like a kid having a fit in a store. You remember that mom who wouldn’t get the kid that toy in the Wal-Mart, well fuck, man. It wasn’t the same thing. I was freaking out. That crown was like a goddamn mind control device.”

Greg said evenly, “You were really upset. It seemed like the right thing to do. You can calm down out here. We’ll just get some pizza or something.”

I shook my head and poked Greg in the stomach with my finger, “No, no- you don’t get off that easy. What you did was really embarrassing-…”

“You think you were embarrassed? What you pulled in there was embarrassing. And, for someone who isn’t supposed to be acting like a kid, you sure acted like a brat in there.” Eve stood over me like a punitive parent while Greg said nothing.

I said, “I’m sick of fucking being treated like a little girl. It messes with my head.”

Eve said, “Maybe if you didn’t act like such a child people wouldn’t treat you that way. Was it really necessary to make such a big deal about a stupid paper crown? The waitress was just trying to make you feel better. And it was really dumb of you to order the enchilada. Paulina even warned you.”

Eve and Greg started walking toward the car, however; I decided to quickly walk in the opposite direction. Eve, who didn’t notice at first, continued her lecture, “People are going to treat you that way because that’s how they see you. And especially when you- Hey! Where are you going?”

I said, “Away from you and your spineless traitor boyfriend.”

My friendship with Greg was over unless he apologized for taking Eve’s side and dragging me out of the restaurant like a kid having a major tantrum. I didn’t even care that they were letting me stay with them for free.

I took off down the sidewalk, my only thought being that I desperately wanted to be away from Eve and Greg. The narrow sidewalk perfectly represented the tunnel vision I was experiencing. El Casa is in a busy more upscale part of Los Angeles with many shops along an expansive strip mall. With the spring time rain now nothing more than light drizzle, many people lined the concourse.

I couldn’t tell if Greg or Eve had given chase, but it didn’t matter- I was quickly lost in the mass of shoppers. I first passed a women’s shoe store, but finding nothing of interest there, I moved on to a store so brightly lit, it hurt my eyes. Inside, dozens of women browsed through a rainbow selection of makeup. Again, I found little of interest there.

I was pleased that I hadn’t suddenly become obsessed with things commonly attributed to women. I had no desire to play dress-up and try out lipstick or anything like that.

The third store, however, did catch my eye. It wasn’t an electronics store, a Porsche dealership or even a strip club. A retro ice cream shop popular with hipsters and nostalgic baby boomers loomed before me. I blinked slowly as I watched a girl a little older than Kaylee eating an ice cream cone. It wasn’t the solitary act of eating that I noticed, no- it was the bubbles she was blowing. I knew the exact flavour she was eating too, and it reminded me of summer days and simpler days. It was bubble gum ice cream with its light blue tinge, leaking over the side of a quickly softening cone and yielding a seemingly endless supply of gumballs.

Once again, the serum had shown itself to be a versatile and layered enemy. First the crown, and now a fucking ice cream cone. The problem was that kids did things to amuse themselves because otherwise they were bored, and apparently, there was nothing worse than being bored as a kid. So, even the simple act of eating an ice cream cone, enjoyable as it is, is turned into a game. The little girl licking the ice cream took the time to suck one or two gumballs into her mouth. She followed this by blowing a massive bubble, which she would blow to the point of near explosion and then slowly allow it to deflate. This amused her younger sister whose face was covered in chocolate ice cream, and apparently, me too. It should have been stupid, but not only was it funny, I really wanted to try it. I wanted to do exactly what this older girl was doing.

“If you wanted ice cream, you should have just said that instead of running off. Look I know you are pissed off at me and the whole thing that happened at the restaurant, so let me get you some. Whatever you want.” Greg was apparently in a hurry to bury the hatchet. He placed a five dollar bill in my little hands. I started to walk into the store, when Eve blocked my path.

She snatched the money from my hands and said, “I don’t think you want to do that.’

Greg frowned, “What gives, Eve? It’s just an ice cream cone. Relax.”

She shook her head and pulled me out of the crowd, “Think of it this way. Is this something Ryan Sullivan would do? I saw you watching those kids. I saw how you acted at the restaurant. You told us that the serum causes the victim to regress when they act like a kid or when they play with kids, right? Think for a second about what you are going to do. Because you’re feeding the little girl this serum wants you to become.”

I sighed gently, peering down at my feet. I squeaked, “I…know. My head is just- it’s really fucked up, Eve. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.”

I leaned down, feeling my arms, suddenly weightless. They swung back and forth, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. Eve was on one knee, and as my face looked up, I could see that her softness had returned. A part of me wanted her to hug me, to tell me everything would be OK, that I wouldn’t slowly be swallowed up by an alien world of dolls, dresses, and pink- so much pink. I didn’t know any little girls, other than Ashley, so it was easy to assume most were similar.

I tended to go for really feminine girls, and I’d never had butch girl cousins to show me another side to their sex, so I really only had a traditional view of women.

Eve leaned in slowly, seemingly initiating a hug, but I managed to slip out of her grasp. I stared at her angrily.

She looked at me regretfully, “I’m really sorry, Ryan. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

I sighed, “Let’s just go back to the car, OK?”

She nodded and without a word, we returned to the parking lot.

As we passed the ice cream shop in the car, I stared longingly at the little girl with the bubble gum flavoured ice cream cone.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 14

“Die you mother fuckers!”

“What the hell? How old are you kid?”

I watched as little bits and pieces of my opponents sailed in every direction. No matter what game you were playing, the rocket launcher was always a satisfying weapon. Three seconds later, I snuck up behind a camper and cut him in half with my chainsaw. For the uninitiated, campers are players who wait by respawn points in FPS games, not to be confused with snipers, who choose strategic locations to pick off targets. There was instant gratification as I watched the blood spurt from the severed torso, collecting in a quickly growing pool. The violence in Gears of War is over the top, but it was one of my favourite games for that very reason.

It was the perfect game to play after the events at El Casa, and the ice cream shop afterwards. It was morning. I had fallen asleep watching Goodfellas, but now I was ready to wash the taste of that horrendous night out of my mouth with kill streaks galore.

I laughed, “Oh I’m six.”

My opponent, whose voice tended to break on occasion, shouted, “No fucking way! Your parents actually let you play Gears? And how come you aren’t at school?”

I had lost track of the days of the week. When you don’t work and you don’t go to school, every day is pretty much the same. I thought I had arrived at the apartment on a Thursday, but now I wasn’t so sure.

I smirked, responding in my headset, “And how come you aren’t at school? You sound like you’re about 12, right?” I pushed the trigger button and blew my opponent’s head apart with the Gnasher shotgun. His cartoony brains splattered all over the wall.

He replied, “Fuck! And no way. I’m fifteen. I’m going to get your ass banned from this server.”

I said, “Look, I’ll leave you alone as soon as you stop fucking respawn camping. And I’m sure your voice will change eventually. You’ll get hair on your chest and some down there too. Don’t worry about it. And about the banning, well we both aren’t old enough to play this game…right?” I laughed, but it sounded a little too much like a giggle for my liking.

The teenage boy said, “Wait are you a girl too?”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah. Maybe.”

My opponent said, “You’re a weird fucking little girl. How come you aren’t playing with ponies or dolls or whatever? That’s what my younger sister does.”

I said, “Well because those things suck, just like you.”

A well-placed shot to the leg from the chain gun removed my opponent’s leg. I had died a few times in the team death match, but since I had put my focus on killing the spawn camper, I had amounted an impressive series of kills. My teammates didn’t seem to be bothered with the fact I sounded like a six year old girl as long as I was kicking ass.

I finished the game with the highest kill count, and even though I wasn’t playing on an elite server, I still felt satisfied and mostly vindicated after last night’s near constant attack on my masculinity and ego.

“How can you play that game? I’ll never understand why you and Greg like blowing people up like that.”

Eve had been silently watching the game, or at least parts of it, while eating her breakfast. I looked back at her, “It’s about being the best. That’s just a nice benefit.”

Eve shook her head, “Ryan, you don’t need to try so hard to be yourself. I saw the way you were looking at the waitress last night, and how you’ve been acting with this game. You’re trying way too hard. You can be a decent guy when you want to be. Maybe showing some self-control will help with fighting the serum.”

I sighed, “You sound like Ashley.”

Eve sat next to me on the couch, but she maintained what I felt was a comfortable distance. The couch sat three and she sat a cushion’s width away from me. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the more frightened I became, the more shocked I grew at my actions, the more I wanted to reach out to Eve. The same thing had happened with Tracy. In seeing my distress, both Eve and Tracy had shown maternal instincts, the desire to embrace and to offer comfort.

It terrified me to think that last night, even for a moment, I had considered jumping into Eve’s arms. It should have been laughable, but it wasn’t. It just wasn’t how Ryan Sullivan dealt with his problems. Since sex was out of the question, weapons capable of severing limbs, punching through armour and shattering bone, and simply eviscerating my opponents would have to act as the panacea to my bruised yet not beaten mental self.

Eve said gently, “Is that the girl who was with you in the studio?” I nodded and then turned back to the game.

Eve put her hand on the cushion that divided us. “You know it might help to talk about what happened there. It was clearly a really stressful time for you. I deal with this every day, Ryan. Post-traumatic stress syndrome. You are bottling things up. I know that it’s what you do but you can’t be afraid to ask for help.”

I shook my head, “Why the hell do you care so much? Since my change you’ve been a lot nicer. I think you like me this way.”

Eve sighed gently, “I’m a nurse. Naturally, I want to help people. To heal them. And I can see you are in pain, that you are scared. You just show it a lot more in this body. Maybe I would have wanted to help you more if you’d done something other than sleep with girls and insult me when you were feeling like shit.”

She added, “Now I know you may not want to speak to me, given our history, but I really do think you need to talk to someone about what happened in the studio. Someone you trust.”

I couldn’t tell Greg. He would never look at me the same way again, likely only seeing the weakness. I had a power over Greg. It wasn’t a secret that he looked up to me- he respected my strength. I knew the tricks for picking up women, how to talk to them- and I wielded this power in the form of a somewhat unbalanced friendship. I could get away with practically anything. When I hit him for bugging me about seeing Monique, he didn’t say a thing. Before he met Eve, he used to pick me up from across town at least once a week. I told him I’d take him to a bar or a club later and sometimes we went and sometimes we didn’t.

He lent me money, and he never asked for me to pay it back. Even after he met Eve and started dating her, I found that the dynamic hadn’t changed significantly. I was still the alpha, and Greg was a bit of a doormat, smart but too eager to please, and telling Greg would mean losing my status in our relationship.

Eve was the only option. My mom was out of the question, as were Jessica and Monique. Eve didn’t think much of me, so really, there was only room for improvement in our relationship. Pleased with my mature decision, I powered down the Xbox, although I was still very hesitant to divulge the full events from the studio. Plus, I wondered if she was right about the serum and my self-control. It wasn’t like I was some stoic man on the mountain, sitting with crossed legs and spouting wisdom. No, I was someone who gave in to the carnal- the pleasurable. Like Mark and Devon, I was a prime candidate to fall victim to the serum.

“I guess I’m feeling guilty. About leaving Ashley at the studio.”

Ashley was the voice of reason in the studio. I wasn’t loathe to admit it either. While Ashley and I had an infamous first and second meeting, she did everything in her power to ensure I didn’t end up like Mark and Devon, and I had left her behind.

Eve said, “The way you told it, Ryan- you didn’t really have a choice.”

I shook my head, “What do you mean?”

Eve nodded, “You said you were the only one without a memory wipe. And you said that just being around kids would make you act like one. I’ve seen proof of that. I think you did the right thing. It’s great you want to help Ashley, and this is a refreshing side of your personality, but if you’d brought her along. What do you think would have happened?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I would have brought her here. At least she would have been safe. What if she’s been adopted by some billionaire prick as part of that adoption agency? She’d hate that. Well…the old Ashley at least.”

Eve shook her head slowly. “I saw how that crown affected you. The smile that appeared on your face, and how you were watching those girls in the ice cream store. I know you are tough Ryan, but you can’t blame yourself. If you’d brought Ashley here- I doubt we would be having this conversation. It would be really hard to keep you two apart.”

I narrowed my eyes, while feeling my lower lip gently lower into a pout, “Do you really think I’m that weak? And Elsa and Anna were apart for ten years, living in the same castle. We could have done the same thing in the apartment.”

A look of shock crossed Eve’s features, her eyebrows shooting upward, and her mouth momentarily agape. She composed herself, and the softness, which had become commonplace, returned. It was a look I had seen rarely in the woman before my change, but the doe-like tenderness and warmth in her eyes, and even the way she held her mouth, in a slight and comforting smile- it made me want to spill my guts to her- to tell her everything.

She said, “But that’s a just a movie, Ryan. And no, I don’t think you are weak, but this serum has done a number on you already. I’m not sure having Ashley here would help things. It would be impossible to keep you two apart in this small apartment.”

I clenched my fists, feeling my slightly pointed nails dig into the soft skin of my palm, “I know it’s just a movie, Eve. I’m not fucking stupid. And I know being around Ashley would be dangerous, but I think I could bring some of her memories back. I managed to jog something when we were back in the studio, but I didn’t have enough time to really try it out. Tracy was supposed to take both of us to her place.”

Eve replied, “I might be able to help you find them. I can talk to our media spokesperson at the hospital, and she can put us in touch with the right people. The police won’t say anything, but if we can get the media involved, they’ll start putting pressure on the police to release a statement. I won’t tell them you are here or anything, but I’ll just give them a tip to check out the studio. In the meantime, I can help you do some research, you said you have a phone with some data, right?”

I nodded, staring at Eve in disbelief. It was hard for me to accept that Eve wanted to be so helpful. Before my transformation into a little girl, I figured she wanted nothing to do with me. Her words in the car about my past behaviour confirmed that. Still, here she was, offering her help to someone who had belittled and insulted her.

Eve said, “It’s OK to ask for help, Ryan. I’ve seen that there’s more to you than just a macho, egotistical asshole. What’s on your phone anyway?”

I replied, “Formulas and diagrams. Stuff about genetics I guess. It’s way over my head.”

Eve said, “There’s a gene lab at the hospital. I could always ask them to take a look at it. Or we could send it to a university professor who specializes in that type of research. You don’t have to do this alone.”

When Eve helped to rinse my eyes out and to comb my hair after my first shower in the apartment, I felt a pleasant tingling. After her latest offer for help, that tingling had become a powerful buzzing, almost as if bees were gently probing the pleasure centres in my brain. A tiny smile crept onto my lips.

“Um. Thanks.” I flicked through the pictures I had taken, stopping on the three I had snapped in the studio. “Here. Take a look at these.”

The phone buzzed a moment later, indicating either a text or an e-mail. I had used some of my car savings to pay my phone bill, but the money would only cover two more bills. After that, I would have to ask Eve and Greg to pay it…like parents. No fucking way.

Eve said, “Superman, hmm? What’s it look like?”

Her eyes danced with amusement. While she grinned, I paled. Monique had picked the worst possible time to send me a text.

Eve handed my phone back, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to see the text.”

I took the phone into my hands and scrolled to my recently received texts:

Monique: u wanna come over its been 2 long

Monique: I want u to superman me through the fucking door

I started texting her back, although I had to put the phone in my lap to text with two hands.

Me: sorry not tonight busy

Monique: u still mad about last time

I clicked the phone off and sighed heavily. A night of ridiculous sometimes painful yet highly enjoyable sex would have usually done the trick to improve my mood, but Monique’s invitation for a booty call had done the opposite. It served as a reminder of everything I had lost. My Gears of War success had softened the blow, dulling the memory of my tantrum and my burgeoning childlike imagination.

Seconds later, I felt a sudden tightening in my chest. This was followed by a slight trembling in my bottom lip. I took two quick breaths, hoping to stave off the eventual tide. As this happened, Eve edged closer to me, now sitting half a cushion away. I turned away from her, burying my face in a pillow.

Was I really about to cry my eyes out because I couldn’t have sex with Monique?

A hand settled gently on my shoulder. The touch was tentative at first, similar to how a person might gingerly touch a plate or a bowl in the microwave to ensure it isn’t too hot. The hand was removed and then reapplied. On the second touch, the grip was firm.

Eve gently squeezed my shoulder. I lashed out, swatting the hand away and turned to face Eve. I felt tears forming, but I fiercely wiped them away. “Fuck sakes, Eve- you can’t be doing that. I’m not a kid.”

Eve regarded me evenly. “I’m not treating you like a kid, Ryan. I’d do the same for anyone who is in pain. I’ve seen it all as a nurse. It’s part of being human. I’ve seen bigger guys than you weeping like babies. Guys who had the same cocky air, the same swagger. In a hospital room, there’s no hiding. Everything comes out.”

She added, “It’s OK to show your humanity. The hug outside the ice cream store might have been a bit much, but this is normal. Most doctors will say that crying can be as therapeutic as laughing. I won’t think any less of you.”

I said with a smirk and wiped my nose with my sleeve, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to think any less of me. It would probably cause the sun to explode or something.”

Eve nodded and smiled, “Exactly. Now why don’t you send me those diagrams, and I’ll bring them in on my next shift. I’ll make sure I talk to the hospital’s media spokesperson too. She owes me a favour.”

I sniffed lightly, “I-I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you in the past, Eve. You’ve really gone above and beyond here.”

Eve smiled, “We’ll find Ashley and Tracy.”

“Thanks, Eve.” I felt hopeful for the first time since I had left the studio.

***

A month passed and in that time, Eve managed to get the contact information for most local and national newsrooms. I continued checking the news daily, something I hadn’t done previous to my transformation. Eve sent the sample data from my phone to universities with a specific focus on genetic research. She also spoke to the lab at the hospital, telling them a friend of hers was completing a PhD and needed someone with the right equipment to test their theory.

Unfortunately, the response wasn’t immediate. I expected that media would flock to the studio. Eve had told the newsroom contacts that a studio was basically using orphans as slaves to make children’s programming. It should have been the top news story on every major network, blog- anything. But a month later, and the story still hadn’t broke.

We figured that a quick search of the premises would lead to more questions, especially when journalists discovered the lab. This should have led to the media putting pressure on the police to release a statement regarding Tracy.

In that time, Eve and I grew closer. Considering we were the equivalent to feuding cats and dogs, anything was an improvement. It started from the moment we met. Eve saw through what she termed my bullshit. What she didn’t know is that I was making myself look worse so that meek Greg would stand out, so he could play white knight. It was really a matter of miscommunication. With cats and dogs it was the same. Dogs wag their tails to show happiness, and cats believe the dogs are agitated by this action, so they return the gesture in kind. Basically, if women, like cats, would take a moment to understand the male species and why we act as we do, there would be fewer water and oil situations.

Eve had her claws out the moment I spoke.

I guess the whole calling her fat didn’t help our relationship, but she had struck first, and she had planted a seed within the mind of my best friend that I was shallow, self-absorbed, and sexist. Before he met Eve, he never said a word to me about how I acted.

So while Eve and I grew closer, we weren’t exactly best friends or anything. I let her help me with my hair because I just couldn’t bring myself to cut it off. Every time I did, I’d picture myself with a shiny bald head, just like Greg, and this image sent my mind spiralling, which was followed by full on panic attacks.

I had always loved girls with long hair. It was the only thing, other than the fact she sometimes bit me hard enough to draw blood, I didn’t like about Monique. Her pixie cut emphasized the slight roundness of her face. Was it possible that because I had these ideals that I had transferred them to my current body? I shouldn’t have cared considering I wasn’t a real girl, but I did.

I never let Eve put my hair into anything other than a simple ponytail, and she never pushed me to do twin braids or up-dos, or whatever. I had taken to avoiding the mirror because each time I looked, I liked more and more what I saw.

I had developed some kind of bizarre obsession with regard to my hair. It actually made me feel better, a pleasant tingle passing through my head as I stared at the long, straight perfect locks. Meanwhile, Greg never said a thing about it. I continued dressing in unisex or typical male clothing, the collection of dresses and skirts I had brought from the studio sat in my Hello Kitty backpack at the very back of the hall closet.

While my behaviour terrified me and struck at both my adult and male core, it wasn’t entirely surprising. Girls just had a thing about their hair. Most did anyways, and the ones that didn’t- I never wanted to meet. I knew that it was the serum, and perfect little girls have perfect hair.

Beyond my hair, it wasn’t as if Eve and I were painting each other’s nails or having sleepovers. No, I was still a gore hound, and the nail polish that adorned my hands and feet had long since worn away, and Greg remained my best friend. Monique and others had made attempts to contact me, but I would likely never be ready to face them. Not until I returned to normal. Which is why the complete failure to this point to contact Tracy sent me into bouts of depression.

Thankfully, Gears, Halo with the odd session of Call of Duty kept me sane. That and repeated viewings of the Godfather trilogy and Goodfellas. I had steadily improved to the point in all three games where I could easily beat Greg. I had to make my own account after some sore losers decided to report me using Ryan Sullivan’s elite server account. I think it mostly had to do with the fact that they didn’t like getting beaten by who they assumed was a little girl. A few reported me for playing the game underage, but there were no laws saying I couldn’t play.

I wasn’t old enough to buy the games, but my gracious parents could have purchased them for me. After a morning of fruitless searching, I jumped onto the Xbox, cranked the TV and loaded up Gears. A few minutes later, I had won my first game, absolutely decimating the competition.

Mere seconds into the second game, I heard banging from downstairs. I assumed that the people downstairs were still in the process of moving, but when the banging transferred to the door, I figured there was a new neighbour. Fuck.

There was something far more satisfying about cleaving an opponent in two or dismembering them with the sound blasting. Rail gun barrages pounded in my chest like psychedelic house music. It just made the game more enjoyable, and it increased the immersive factor. You were more into the game if it sounded like the game was part of your living room, and your neighbour’s living room.

I paused the game and moved toward the door where the banging continued. As I got closer, I realized that whoever was trying to get my attention was not using their fist. It sounded like they were rapping against the door with an aluminum baseball bat.

As Ryan Sullivan, I had dealt with my fair share of noise complaints. Monique’s neighbours below and above called the police on us on two separate occasions. I smooth talked the police who came to the door, making a joke about Monique being a singer and losing control of her voice during sex. It worked both times.

I also had a neighbour living underneath me. She was a single mom who had really let herself go. I probably would have been interested in her if she had cleaned herself up and didn’t have a kid. So anyway, she complains about my surround sound, while her fucking kid is screaming in her arms. The kid seriously cried all the time. She told me he was chloric or something. Well he woke me up plenty of times after a late-night shift, and I never said a thing. I just told her to piss off because her kid was making just as much noise. Well her doughy boyfriend comes to the door next, and I took one look at him and laughed. He didn’t say one word before he left, his balls likely crawling up into his body, removing him from the male species altogether.

I could be intimidating, and it helped that I could also handle myself in a fight. I wasn’t stupid though, and I was on a kind of short leash with my landlord, so I turned the volume down, but I had the satisfaction of winning the battle. The army I had gone against had retreated before firing a single shot.

I was, however, no longer in a body that stood over six-feet tall. My musculature was non-existent, and the last time I had punched someone, it resulted in vicious teasing. I doubted that the individual behind the door would hit a child, but the metal on wood struck fear into my heart. I pictured a mountain of muscle, laden with tattoos, bald with a permanent scowl.

I stuttered, “G-Go away! I’ll turn it down!” My heart raced, and my throat suddenly constricted. Even if I had wanted to say another word, my body wouldn’t have allowed it. I was having another panic attack.

The hammering against the door ceased. A voice reeking of age spoke. While the speaker was likely wizened with one foot in the grave, the voice held a powerful authoritative timbre. “Young lady, I want to speak to one of your parents immediately.”

The voice belonged to a woman, and coupled with my fear-induced panic attack, she sounded like the scariest and meanest woman in the world. My mind told me, however, that it was ridiculous to be frightened of an old woman. I’d told the woman at the bus stop to mind her business. I could say the same thing to this old hag. I was certain that if I looked at her through the peephole that my fear would wane.

I pictured this little old woman, the metal cane the only thing keeping her from tumbling toward a hip injury that would put her in the hospital permanently. A sagging, haggard face with a crooked nose and sunken eyes would stare back at me, while a mouthful of cruel twisted teeth would form a wicked sneer. I blinked slowly, realizing that my suddenly out of control imagination had placed a witch behind my door.

The image of the witch slowly unravelled as I reined in my imagination. With my returning courage, I said firmly, “They’re not home.”

The old woman replied, “How old are you, young lady?” It shouldn’t have been possible, but the woman’s voice attacked my courage, like a great loping animal pierced by a hunter’s arrows, it stumbled, leaving me ready to answer the question truthfully. Thankfully, just as I was about to reveal the truth, I stopped, my childlike fear rapidly replaced with adult logic and a resurgence of Ryan Sullivan’s bold and stubborn nature.

It was clear that if this woman found out that I was actually six years old, it could create a number of problems. I should have had a babysitter, but actually, since it was May- I should have been in school. The fear attempted to creep back in, like the dark banished from a room filled with light.

I changed my voice, trying to sound older. “I’m twelve.” I couldn’t remember when my parents started leaving me at home alone, but twelve seemed like it would be old enough.

Less than a second after I spoke, the old woman’s voice once again filled the air. It was direct and completely lacking in emotion. “You’re lying.” The simple phrase sent my heart racing, yet it also evoked a sense of anger.

It was clear this woman had been some power-tripping librarian or maybe she worked at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Either way, she wasn’t going to tell me what to do. It was time to end the conversation.

“Look, I’ve turned down the game, so you can just fuck off, OK? I don’t owe you anything.” I hoped that meeting her strength with my own brash attitude would cause her to realize she wasn’t going to boss me around.

“Young lady, it may not be against the law in this state to leave you home alone, but I believe your parents would be interested to know that you are not in school. And you will, never ever address me in such a manner again. Proper young ladies do not address their elders, or anyone with such vile language. Your parents should be ashamed. Now, you will offer an immediate apology.”

Normally, I would have been able to completely ignore the woman’s lecture. I certainly did so enough times in school, but this woman had a special power. Her words were like tempered steel, each one finding a weakness in my mental armour. I stood flabbergasted that the woman’s words could affect me in such a manner.

I stuttered, “W-Why do you care if I go to school or not? Why is it any of your business?”

“I educated generations of proper young ladies at the Prescott Finishing School, now known as the Prescott Academy for Girls. It is my responsibility as a former educator and a concerned citizen to ensure that you attend school so you might become a productive member of society. Your parents are also breaking the law. Now, unless you give me a very good reason not to, I will contact the school board and report your truancy.”

The strength of her words told me that she wasn’t bluffing. She made me feel like a little kid, terrified of her new teacher. My breathing grew faster to the point where I started taking in raspy, ragged breaths. I wiped my hands on my pants, which were slicked with sweat. The world around me spun, and I reached out for the door, using it to break my fall.

School. A place of learning where Ryan Sullivan would essentially be erased. Where the serum would claim victory. If that happened, it wouldn’t matter if Eve and Greg knew the truth, there would be nothing left of me to prove I was anyone else but a six-year old girl named Kaylee.

“Young lady, I’m waiting. You might improve your standing in my eyes if you tell the truth.”

Two panic attacks in the same day. I sighed heavily, still using the door for support. The woman’s cane rapped firmly on the door. If Eve or Greg was here, I probably would have been hiding behind them, as I had done with Ashley in the studio. Still, this old disciplinarian was dealing with Ryan Sullivan not Kaylee, and Ryan was an experienced actor.

Acting, good acting, should be effortless, not simply playing a part but being that part where the words spoken sound like they come from a real person not just someone simply reading lines. My only chance was to use my acting chops, hoping that I could fool the old woman, but to do that, I had to become Kaylee.

I said sadly, actually pushing out my lower lip. The woman couldn’t see it, but it helped me get into character. “I-I’m six. I’m home alone because I’m sick, and my parents are at work. We can’t afford a babysitter.” We didn’t live in a large apartment building, but it was large enough at six stories to hopefully never actually run into this woman again.

“Now, if you had been truthful with me in the first place, we might have avoided this unpleasant business. I don't agree with a six-year old child being left at home alone, especially when she is ill.”

Incredibly, her voice softened, the sharp edge dulled to the point where I almost felt comfortable in her presence. Considering the power she had over me, I was really beginning to think she was a witch.

“Perhaps an arrangement can be made with your parents should something like this occur again. I would be more than willing to offer my services for free.”

My mind quickly snapped back to reality, “Um, you don’t have to do that. I’m usually not sick. I really like school.”

I heard the metal cane tap lightly against the floor. The action caused me to immediately stand at attention. The old teacher spoke, “You’re lying again. I’m certainly not seeing the maturity required in a girl your age to stay at home by herself. I can understand why you chose to lie, but I’ve dealt with thousands of girls like you- I know all the tricks.”

By this point, I had had enough. I had to regain the upper hand, and it was clear that the woman’s power was in her voice. If I saw this little old lady behind the door, hopefully it would mean that her sway over me would cease.

I dragged a wooden stool toward the door and peered through the peep hole. On the other side, I saw a woman absolutely ravaged by age. Deep wrinkles lined her face, while her body was stooped, a slight hump forcing the woman forward, causing her to lean on her cane for constant support. She looked like she could be the grandmother of someone’s great-grandmother.

She spoke again, “I’ve a cup a tea very quickly cooling and as I cannot stand warmed tea, you will answer me immediately. I will be speaking to your parents either way, but what is said in that conversation will depend on your response, child. Firstly, you will apologize to me for your tone, your language, and your lying. Secondly, you will return to bed and not play another minute of that horrid thing you call a game. Children who are ill need their rest. And lastly, you will address me from this point on as Mrs. Feinstein.”

I replied, “Look, I’m sure you get your jollies from scaring kids, but I’m not falling for it. To me you’re just a crazy old lady who won’t mind her fucking business.”

With the picture of Mrs. Feinstein now firmly ingrained in my mind, her voice had lost its power. She was like a yelping extremely brittle-boned Chihuahua.

The metal cane tapped lightly against the floor again, but it too had lost its power. I heard it slowly tap along the floor, moving away from the door to the apartment.

Victory.

***

Greg and Eve returned home at the same time, a rare occurrence but with Greg making the schedule at the Palace, he tried his best to match Eve’s shifts. I said nothing about my run in with Mrs. Feinstein, and honestly, I hoped that she was bluffing, and that a lifetime of teaching left her unmotivated to pursue another educational project, especially one with such a vulgar mouth. Was it really worth it to her to get involved, considering the time and energy it would take to change my ways?

At 7 PM sharp, I heard a gentle rapping on the door- it was metal on wood.

I forgot that Mrs. Feinstein was retired. Apparently, retired people had nothing better to do than to stick their nose in other people’s business. I sighed heavily, feeling very much like I did as a child after I had done something to enrage my mother. She would shout, “Wait until your father gets home!” Of course with my dad, sometimes it wasn’t for a week or two, and then when I was older, it was for longer stretches. When my dad got home, my mom would tell him about all the horrible things I did, and on rare occasions, he would punish me. Usually, it was just a matter of boys being boys, but sometimes he would hit me. Never in the face, but that’s when I knew I’d gone too far. I never knew with my mom because she always cried.

Were my hands actually shaking? This was a one-hundred and eight year old woman not an elite-trained solider. I had my doubts that she could cause as much trouble as she threatened. It’s not like she would be checking to see that I went to school every day. I’d just make sure from this point on to keep the TV at a lower volume. Most people, at least in my experience, will leave you alone once their lives are no longer impacted. For this fossil, it probably meant I wouldn’t interrupt her tea time and viewings of Masterpiece Theatre.

I didn’t really know what old people liked other than quiet. I was never close to my grandparents on either side of the family. Our near constant moving made it difficult for them to visit. When they did visit for Christmas or Thanksgiving, there was usually football on the TV. The men in my family watched football, and the women worked in the kitchen. I knew my grandfather liked football and fishing, basically the stuff my dad liked. Somehow, I expected that Mrs. Feinstein was different.

Greg opened the door quickly, allowing me to see Mrs. Feinstein through something other than the peephole, which had a skewing effect. Even though Greg wasn’t tall at just under six feet, he towered over the diminutive Mrs. Feinstein. I couldn’t believe that I was scared of her for even a millisecond. A gnarled hand gripped the metal cane. Sitting atop the cane was a majestic-looking eagle, along its wings a string of roses. She didn’t wait to be invited into the apartment, brushing by Greg fearlessly. Eve, who was standing behind me in the dining area, moved to open her mouth, but was quickly silenced by the old woman’s raised hand.

The moment she entered the room, she owned it. Even I found myself staring at her, in disbelief that such a frail frame could hold such power. “I am Mrs. Agatha Feinstein, your downstairs neighbour. I must say I was quite disturbed by your daughter this afternoon. I had some concern about the amount of noise coming from your apartment, but I have greater concern as to your parenting.”

Eve and Greg exchanged dumbfounded looks. Mrs. Feinstein continued unabated, “Why you would choose to leave a six-year old girl, a mere child, home alone while she is ill is beyond me. Do neither of you have parents or friends that you would trust with her care? Do you realize that this child spent most of the morning playing a game instead of resting? What if she had managed to find real trouble in the apartment? What if she had injured herself? I should say as well that, based on the noises I heard, I don’t think that game is suitable for a child.”

Greg and Eve stood like two disobedient students, exchanging glances and trying to determine culpability on either side. Eve looked angrily at Greg who withered, but when the man’s eyes returned to Mrs. Feinstein, he might as well have been trying to crawl within his own body for protection from the lecture.

Despite Greg being the actor, Eve was the first to speak. He was, true to his word, completely unwilling to go off script. “I’m sorry that you were bothered by Riley. Did she tell you why we had to leave her home alone today?”

Mrs. Feinstein said, “She said that you could not afford someone to look after her. I would think that one of you could take the day off. I know that there is no law in California, but I do not think it reasonable to leave an ill six year old to her own devices.”

Eve nodded, “Unfortunately neither of our parents live in town. I’m a nurse and my…uh husband is the assistant manager of a restaurant, but we’re both starting out, and I’ve got student loans, so money is tight. Riley is usually very mature for her age. If you think it’s a problem ...”

Mrs. Feinstein tapped her cane on the floor and I, Eve and Greg all stood up straighter, “I do think it is a problem, young woman. I can appreciate your pursuing higher education after what was likely a difficult teenage pregnancy, but you cannot leave such an unruly child at home alone. It is dangerous for her and bothersome for those who must share an adjacent space with her.”

Eve lowered her head slowly, “We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. It was really a one-time thing, we’d normally never leave her alone. I left lunch and everything for her. She knows not to touch the stove. She’s a really smart girl.”

Greg, who had managed to find his cowardly tongue, finally spoke up, “And she can read. More than just picture books.”

Mrs. Feinstein nodded, “I’m willing to overlook this, but I must ask that I receive a sincere apology from your daughter. She was quite rude to me, and it is unbecoming of a young lady to use such language.”

Greg looked at me, and I shook my head. Mrs. Feinstein frowned, her entire face seeming to cave in disapproval.

Eve said, “Riley, I’ve asked you not to use bad language. I know that you like playing daddy’s games, but they use bad words in them, and I know you think it’s funny to ...”

“I know you think that just because you were a teacher that you can boss people around, but you weren’t exactly invited in here. I turned the game down. The noise is gone. You have nothing to complain about. Yeah, I was rude, but this isn’t 1919, your graduating year in high school. People are rude, kids are rude. Deal with it.”

Mrs. Feinstein narrowed her eyes at Eve and Greg- it was a clear challenge to their authority. Amazingly, Greg was the first to speak up. Apparently, his bout of cowardice was short lived.

“I think you should probably leave. OK?”

Greg’s words were tenuous and his breathing hurried. I was certain that they would be the equivalent of a slingshot being fired at a cement wall. However, the wall relented, not crumbling, but merely ceded the way. Mrs. Feinstein turned slowly, making me think we had suddenly tumbled into a universe where everything moved in slow motion.

“Very well, it is clear who has the run of this place. I will remember that the next time your daughter disturbs the residents of this building.”

The words were said sharply, but still, the old woman hobbled toward the door, allowing her cane to guide her. She placed a crooked-looking hand on the doorknob and within moments was gone.

***

“Getting him to apologize might be our only choice, Greg. This woman could call social services. They’ll be an investigation potentially. We really need to make nice with her. You know that the next time Ryan makes even a peep, she’s going to be down here again.”

“Eve, there’s no way that Ryan will go for this. You don’t know him the way I do.”

“That’s exactly what got him in this mess, so now he’s just going to have to eat crow. And that means going to her apartment and apologizing.”

I watched the exchange between Eve and Greg silently at first, pleased that Greg was supporting me, as he had moments ago. However, considering the fact that Eve and I were getting along better, I was surprised to see how quickly she returned to her old opinion of me.

She added, “We have to show we are capable. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of cases in the hospital when child services gets involved. We do not want that kind of attention. We don’t have any paperwork saying Ryan is ours. If we don’t have a legal claim to him, then we could lose him. Do we really want to risk that?”

Greg replied, “I kind of agree with Ryan on this one. That lady can’t complain about the noise, and if he’s quiet then she can’t say anything. And I really doubt she’s going to check up on us again as long as Ryan doesn’t bug her again.”

I came to stand next to Greg, feeling a sense of camaraderie return. The spineless traitor that had embarrassed me in the restaurant was gone. Incredibly, he was standing up to his girlfriend- for me.

Eve shook her head. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m not going to spell it out any more than this, Greg. It’s a simple apology. Ryan needs to apologize for being rude. That’s all. It’s a completely unnecessary risk, and for what? So Ryan can feel like some big man?”

I watched the exchange with hidden glee, doing my best to keep from smirking. Still, I felt the corners of my mouth turn, but immediately bit down on the inside of my lip, halting the expression.

Greg said, “No, it’s because this woman is taking something as simple as a noise complaint and turning it into a huge battle over parenting or whatever. I had a supply teacher like her once. It was in sixth grade. She was mean, nasty and completely unfair. Some of my friends actually thought she was a witch. Well she blamed me for something, just because I’d kind of mouthed off to her, and it wasn’t my fault. I had detention and missed my bus. My mom had to come pick me up, and she was so pissed. This woman reminds me of her. She’s just pushing us around Eve, can’t you see that?” I nodded my approval at Greg’s speech.

Eve frowned, “She’s got legitimate concerns. And I also know people like her. People who make it their mission in life to coach other parents. You have met my mother, right? She’s like that with my sister and her newborn. She’s over there constantly pointing out all these little things she’s doing wrong. For all we know, Mrs. Feinstein could be exactly like that. Why take the risk? Ryan just needs to apologize to her and avoid giving her the finger when she sees us in the hall. That’s it.”

Greg shook his head, “We aren’t his parents. We can’t make him. If Ryan wants to apologize then he can.”

Eve sighed heavily, “And what about the booster seat? We’re going to get one, right?” I knew Eve, and this wasn’t a question. “Again, it’s an unnecessary risk. A routine traffic stop could get us in a lot of trouble.” Eve crossed her arms underneath her chest and furrowed a brow- the classic pissed off-girl-I-know-I’m-right-and-you’re-wrong-look.

Greg said, “We’ll talk about it.”

The pupil had become the master. Greg had used a line I used to feed him. If there was something I didn’t feel like doing, I’d give him that line. He always swallowed it, and he would rarely bring it up again. Now, he was using it on Eve. This time, I couldn’t hide the smile.

Eve huffed, turned and said quickly, “I’m going for a walk.”

The door slammed shut behind her. Even though she had been almost nice to me recently, I enjoyed the sudden change in the dynamic of their doormat-heavy feet relationship.

I couldn’t help but stare at Greg in both astonishment and reverence but realization soon struck. I smirked, “She’s going to be so pissed at you. Like really pissed. And the couch is already mine. What the hell’s gotten into you? I mean not that I’m complaining.”

Greg nodded slowly, “I-I’ve noticed a bit of a change in you. I guess it’s the fact that every time I bring up cutting your hair, you go practically catatonic. And then there was that commercial the other day for Frozen on Ice. I think we need to avoid as much as possible treating you like a little girl. I saw how you were watching it. Like how Jessica’s niece would look at it. Anyway, if keeping you out of situations where you have to act like a kid works…then it’s worth the risk.”

I swallowed hard, instantly feeling terrible for all the times I had blown Greg off for Monique or the flavour of the week, or borrowed money from him or- well there were plenty of things that made our relationship somewhat one-sided. Most of them had to do with promises that weren’t kept.

“I really appreciate it, man. And I didn’t really like that stuff. I was just messing around. I wanted to see your reaction. It was priceless. You were like, can we get front row seats.”

Greg laughed, but it was partially forced. He had a habit of exaggerating his laughter at times, especially if he felt the person telling the joke needed the laugh- as if laughing was some kind of therapy. He was too nice for his own good.

It created an awkwardness- because Greg never did that to me. When I joked, he always laughed sincerely.

I asked, “What gives, man? You don’t believe me? I told you that shit is stupid.”

Greg said, “Yeah, man. I do.”

I wanted to believe him, even though I knew deep down that he was lying. Why the hell did he have to be such a shitty liar?

***

“Shit! I can’t believe this. Guys, come look at this!”

It was two weeks later, and I had made an incredible discovery. After hours and hours of online research, checking hundreds of newspapers across the United States and internationally and searching through papers Eve brought from the hospital, the story was finally public.

The public now knew about the serum containing the fountain of youth. The full two-page spread showed pictures of the secret laboratory below the studio. There were before and after photos of who I assumed were homeless people or convicts. The plot to transform adults into children to circumvent the new California child actor law was explained in great detail. The final part revealed the adoption agency that claimed perfection in their ‘stock’. This sordid web of deceit, manipulation and identity destruction was linked to a major television network, the country’s largest pharmaceutical companies and even sections of the federal government, who had apparently bankrolled the research in the early stages.

While I had been initially against the idea of going public with the serum, for fear I would end up as a living science experiment, it was an incredible relief in a way. It was clear that I had lost some control, especially with regard to my hair, which I still stubbornly refused to cut. There were also the commercials. At my place, I’d gotten by with just Netflix, but Eve and Greg had cable, a shitty internet plan, and no DVR. That meant loads of commercials, some of which featured children, and especially young girls enjoying certain things.

It got so bad that during one show, I had to leave each time the commercials played. The Frozen on Ice wasn’t the problem, yes- I had looked at it with a certain yearning, but that desire eventually faded. No, the problem was a commercial promoting the Frozen princess dress-up set. It featured everything a young girl would need to play as her favourite character from the movie, from dresses to full length gowns, crowns, long gloves, even little slippers.

This reminded me of the fun I had with Ashley, and the memory had decided not only to stay but to actually burrow deep into my brain, nestling within like some hibernating animal finding its winter home. It was like a parasite devouring my brain matter. There was a strange warmth to it, a comfort. Despite being framed by the horrors of the studio, there was an innocence to it because in those special moments there was nothing else but us. Me and Ashley.

I was struck by a powerful desire to seek out Ashley, or even any other little girls like the ones in the commercial. There was one who lived on the second floor, probably a year younger than me. I caught on slowly remembering that the serum had various layers. It had the layer that sought to beat my adult mind and male ego to a bloody pulp, landing body blow after body blow. This is what I dealt with when I peered in the mirror, or when I was treated as I looked, or I discovered another simple action I could complete easily as Ryan that I couldn’t do half as well or at all as Kaylee. These realizations pounded my mind, like slavering wolves launching themselves at an injured moose. Each attack drew more blood and the wounded animal, the remains of Ryan Sullivan, lumbered forward, desperately trying to shake off the vicious predators.

However, there was also the sweetness, and I began to grasp that these warm memories were far deadlier than the body blows my mind was receiving. Like some sort of bizarre Stockholm Syndrome, a portion of my mind was slowly surrendering to the reality envisioned by the serum. This surrender was hastened by wonderful memories of smiling children laughing at play.

Pretty little princesses playing dress up.

I continued to battle the serum, demonstrating to Dr. Travers that his serum is a failure. However, deep within my mind, I knew that I couldn’t last forever- the barrages would pierce my defences eventually, leaving only Kaylee in their wake. This is why I was so relieved. I had suffered lapses in my control, but with the serum’s existence now public, it would mean an army of scientists in my corner.

And that meant a possible cure.

It was the first glimpse of hope, the tiny ray of sunshine attempting to pierce a seemingly endless grey sky.

Eve and Greg hurried over to where I had the newspaper spread over the kitchen table. Once again, one was leaving and the other was just arriving home from a lengthy shift. Greg gave Eve a groggy kiss. He had gotten in around two in the morning, and my shouting had woken him, but unlike me in a similar situation, he didn’t look pissed.

He actually looked happy. Things had not been great between him and Eve lately as the two could often be heard fighting behind closed doors about a contentious subject- me. I pointed to the paper splayed out on the table proudly, as if showing a picture where I had coloured inside all the lines.

Eyes scanned the page, and my gaze zeroed in, impatiently awaiting their reaction. I knew they would be happy. For Eve, I likely wouldn’t be living here any longer, and Greg- well he would have Ryan Sullivan back. Maybe I could even call Jessica…or even Hannah?

My mom too. Just to check in with her. I wasn’t going to visit her or anything.

Eve looked at me and began biting the inside of her lip, while Greg was still scanning the article.

“Ryan, I-I didn’t mean to bring this home. It’s a tabloid. Nothing in this thing is true. It’s a supermarket trash paper. Just for entertainment. I’m sorry, Ryan, but I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere.”

Eve reached her arms out toward me, but I didn’t reciprocate. Did she really think I was going to come crying into her arms?

“But it is true. Every word of it is true! People are going to read this, and they’ll see what they did to us- to me!”

Eve frowned deeply and shook her head, “You know it’s true, but the story is so farfetched that most will believe it’s fake. This is the National Enquirer. It’s basically a tabloid paper that thrives on getting people to buy it with sensational headlines. And this is a paper from three weeks ago. There’s been nothing on the news, right?”

I shook my head, “But someone knows! I mean someone told the paper that fucking story. Every last thing they wrote is fucking true!” I emphasized my point with two firm stomps of my feet. Greg looked at me with wide eyes and then turned to Eve.

“That’s not totally true though, Eve. The Enquirer is right sometimes. My grandma bought the stupid thing every week. My dad would read them for a joke, but it turns out some stuff they publish does end up as the truth.”

Eve sighed heavily, “I don’t think it’s right to get his hopes up like this. It’s obvious that one of the press contacts I got from the hospital spokesperson fed this story to the Enquirer. I mean it’s weirder than the stuff they usually publish but with the whole industry dying- it’ll sell papers and drive views to their website.”

I said, “Well what if get in contact with the paper. Tell them that I’ll do an interview or something. I’ll back up everything they said.”

Eve replied, “The problem is that the Enquirer and other tabloids have awful reputations. Most people don’t believe the paper publishes anything resembling the truth. If we want to put pressure on the police to release Tracy or for scientists to help find a cure, then we need a legitimate media outlet to tell the story.”

I said, “OK. So how do we get them to listen?”

Greg replied, “Hey…it might be a long shot, but what if we went to the studio? The lab is still there, right? I mean as long as you are OK with this. Going public with it I mean. We could probably find something at the lab to prove what happened to you is true.”

Eve interjected, “Hold on, this doesn’t make any sense. I mean I never told the media contacts about the lab or the serum or any of the really unbelievable stuff. I said that the police were holding a woman who had allegedly exploited child actors. Making them work longer hours and stuff like that. No one should know about the other stuff. I don’t know how the Enquirer got that information.”

I said, “It’s insane though, everything they say is true. It’s like they were there in the studio. I saw everyone get arrested except for this crazy lady named Mrs. Daniels and that fucker Travers. The two ambulance guys got picked up. They were the only other people. Unless some cop who collected the evidence leaked it or something. It’s fucked up either way.”

Greg said, “If this all comes out though, Ryan- you could spend the rest of your life in a lab. We’ll do what we can to have you stay here. Are you sure you want to?”

I nodded, “Tracy wanted me to tell, and now I know why. People don’t want this getting out. Dr. Travers talked about a balance, like if people could be young forever it would fuck up society. If there were no really bad diseases or whatever. That’s why he was OK with the serum being used for the adoption agency. But that’s just his messed up opinion. It could also really help people. So whoever did this thinks it might get out, they put the story in a crap paper that no one will believe to try and kill the story.”

Eve looked at me with a mix of astonishment and respect. I shook my head slowly, “You know I’m not stupid.”

Eve nodded, her shoulders slumping apologetically. “I know, Ryan. Sorry.” She perked up, “I think you’re right. We should go to the studio tonight.”

I smirked, “I call shotgun.” Greg grinned.

***

The first time I had set foot in the studio, I was brash. My bravado, like a tank driving down the expressway in bumper-to-bumper traffic, was powerful- unflinching. I mirrored Tracy making her at ease, while I spun lie after lie. I didn’t like to dwell in the past. It was just easier to move on and forge a new path, as I had many times before, leaving friends and, of course, family.

However, this time was different. There was no forgetting what happened to me in the studio and how I ended up there. If I hadn’t been so desperate, stubborn and so full of lies, I wouldn’t have been sitting in the front seat of Greg’s sedan, the shoulder strap pressing tightly against my neck. I would have been working at the Burger Palace, taking what auditions I could, and hopefully, in the first serious relationship of my twenties.

My mind waffled back and forth- despair to hope and back again, but as we neared the studio something else crept in. I felt a tinge of fear almost like cold, skeletal hands inching their way up my back. The thin boney digits thrust into the back of my neck, and I jumped in my seat. They almost felt like needles puncturing my skin.

I started breathing more heavily, each breath coming in short, rapid bursts. My hands shook gently as the studio came into view. However, instead of the non-descript grey building with the fading network logo, I saw a twisted crooked structure. The simple rectangular frame stood out like a living piece of art, my imagination quickly taking the image and warping it beyond recognition. A nightmarish house stood in place of the studio. Shutters slapped against the side of the house fighting the wind in an effort to hide the horrors within. The only visible light came from a single candle held by a tall shadow. Above the porch was a terrace, however, instead of blooming vibrant flowers, all that remained were brown husks. The husks danced in the wind, but it was clear that whatever had grown there once, was now dead.

Kaylee…

I peered out from the car, eyes wide in terror, hands firmly gripping the sides of the seat, as if I feared an imminent crash and didn’t trust my seatbelt.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Ryan, we’re here. Are you OK?” It was Greg.

I nodded slowly, realization slowly setting in- the haunted house was gone, replaced by the studio and its parking lot with a single street lamp. “Yeah.”

Greg said gently, “You can stay here with one of us if you want. You don’t have to go in.”

I shook my head, feeling my bluster return, “Fuck, man, you are so soft. You said it yourself, you can’t treat me like this. I have to do this. And I need to be there when you take the video. I was in that lab. I know what it looks like, and I need to tell the story of what happened there. It’s not going to be legit if you just take some random video.”

Eve said, “He’s right, Greg. If this plan is going to work, we need Ryan in there. It’ll be more real that way. Then we can contact the media and say we’ve got proof. Even if only one reporter actually believes us, maybe they’ll put pressure on the police to release a statement about Tracy. Or the studio.”

Greg looked hurt momentarily, “I know, Eve.”

He then looked back at me, and I gave him a brave face, along with a well-placed finger for doubting me. It was hard to ignore the fact that my imagination had taken control, rendering me nearly catatonic as it painted the studio as a scene from a horror movie. The worst part, however, was the fact that, like the monsters my mind conjured while I lay on the bunk in the studio bedroom, my imagination had created something stereotypically frightening to a small child.

I prided myself on being relatively fearless. From a young age, I was climbing fences and trees, and when I got older, this translated to a bold, uncompromising personality. However, the studio turned haunted house had scared me. I told myself that the fear was normal. After all, this was the place where I had been stripped of my body and nearly stripped of my personality and even my memories. Still, there was a nagging sensation, akin to a small pin prick in my brain, that the way my fear manifested was childish.

Adults worried about their paycheques, their next meal, their career, and their lives in general. This was real fear. My fear of failure, the fact that I consistently ran from my problems instead of facing them and growing up in the process were legitimate concerns. Monsters and haunted houses were make believe. Stupid camp fire stories.

Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat, Kaylee is a scaredy-cat…

Would the other kids laugh at me? The boys would and definitely Mark. Memories of the studio flooded my mind, and I desperately missed Ashley. Was coming back here a mistake?

My head moved on a swivel, hoping desperately that neither Eve nor Greg saw the genuine fear on my face. I quickly realized that I was alone in the car, and while I was pleased neither of them had seen the weakness, the sudden separation sent my heart racing again. I stepped out of the car, fighting the urge to reach out and hold Eve’s hand- to feel comforted and protected.

There was a bizarre magnetism between the two of us now. Somehow, despite my adult and male self being vehemently against such contact, the child in me sought out Eve, knowing that she had the ability to calm my fear and anxiety, almost like a…mother’s touch.

No fucking way. I couldn’t think of Eve that way. It was giving into the serum.

It was giving up.

Greg asked, “Man, if you want to come back in the day- we can do that. If this place brings back too many bad memories, maybe it’s not a good idea? What happened to you here? Maybe it’ll help us understand better. I know there’s more to it than the article said. There’s something you aren’t telling us. What if it helps us get the media involved?”

I shook my head and reached up to pull on Greg’s shirt, trying to bring him down to eye level. Despite Greg being significantly taller and stronger than me, he acquiesced, slowly allowing my tugging to bring him to my level. “Some crazy shit happened to me. Crazier than becoming a little girl, OK? That’s all you need to know. I’m not telling you fuck all, understand?”

I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, “We’re just trying to help, Ryan. But Greg is right, you keeping this from us isn’t good. If we knew the whole story, maybe we’d be able to help more. At least better understand what you went through and what you’re going through now. But I’m sure you’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

I glared at Eve and broke away from them. I did an about face, planting my hands on my hips while preparing to address Eve. My anger flared, like a single flame carried by the wind over a desiccated landscape bringing with it the threat of an uncontrollable wild fire. Like my imagination, the rage I felt was powerful, but it was soon replaced, swept away like a tiny boat in a tsunami. An overwhelming sense of uneasiness overcame me, followed by a massive dose of doubt.

I stared straight ahead, in shock at the ping pong ball nature of my emotions, but completely unable to control them. “Y-You’d just laugh at me. You’d probably think the whole thing was fucking hilarious.”

My imagination joined with this self-doubt, creating vivid images of Greg and Eve, pointing, their faces contorted in near orgasmic bliss. It made no sense, but in that moment, I believed that would be their reaction if I revealed Ms. Daniels’ plan for me and Ashley. They would see Ryan Sullivan as a laughing stock.

Instead of continuing the battle of words, Eve said simply, “Let’s go inside.”

***

Cellphones provided the only source of light in the studio’s darkened halls. My heart continued its rapid pace, not simply beating, but slamming against my chest. Despite this, I chose to lead. I wouldn’t hide behind Eve’s legs, like a burgeoning part of myself desperately wanted. I ignored the comforting aura that she offered, knowing that giving in meant weighing down Ryan Sullivan to the point where he could no longer break the surface of a shared personality.

I did my best to ignore how the light cast shadows, creating terrible monstrosities with an appetite for six year old girls.

Gradually, as we reached the door to the laboratory, my courage returned. There were points through the brief journey where I held my breath to avoid shrieking in fright as one of the shadow monsters danced toward me. My imagination coupled with blossoming childish fears created a potent cocktail where my mind was bombarded with real and imagined terrors. The needles puncturing the skin, the cries, all of this was real, but combined with the imagined fear- I was surprised- even shocked that I actually stood in front of the door to my possible salvation.

Hope pushed me along too, but it was also the sense that I would not allow the childish fears to control me- to govern my behaviour.

Even the metallic staircase, where Ashley had reached out for my hand, where two frightened little girls had walked, held no power over me. The metallic steps sent echoes through the wide stairwell, mingling with my own breathing, my heart, the voices in my head that told me to scream, to run- but still we descended.

Eve and Greg didn’t say a word, and I was thankful for that. I needed time to return to a figure of power in their eyes- to stand as Ryan Sullivan again. The fact that I went first told them all they needed to know about my reaction to my behaviour mere moments ago.

The bottom of the staircase came quickly, and I led Greg and Eve toward the laboratory. Lights shone over complex scientific equipment attached to beakers and tubes- the apparatus where the serum collected before Dr. Travers was likely stabbed to death by Mrs. Daniels, it was all there still.

I was surprised to see that the police, the federal agents, or whoever had come, had left it all there.

An object brushed against my foot. The nearly blinding light provided by my cellphone revealed a needle, and it appeared to be filled with a greenish liquid. Not wanting to accidentally prick myself, I maneuvered behind the needle as Eve and Greg silently watched.

I reached down to take hold of the plunger, but my attempt to grasp the object failed.

I tried again, and this time I managed to lift it. I couldn’t understand at first why the object lacked depth, substance, weight, but as I held it, I had my answer.

It was cardboard. From a distance it looked real, like the solid metal tables, but on closer inspection they were just card tables covered in a plastic mold.

Nothing was real.

We were standing on an elaborate set.

Author's note: I don't play Halo (never have played Halo), so my apologies if I got anything wrong (which I probably did). I've also never played Gears of War. There will likely be some inaccuracies even with my research. Thanks as always for all the comments and support.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 15

“Shit! How does that keep happening? Fuck, man- you were guarding the flag.”

I heard chatter in my headphones. Since it was the middle of the day and I didn’t need Mrs. Feinstein banging on the door, I kept the sound for the game relegated to the headset only. It was a week later, and with the memories of the studio still fresh, I had returned to Halo. Gears of War was becoming too easy. Gears being a third person shooter, it tended to have a lot of unskilled players, and for a FPS expert, it is a joke. Guys shooting without cover, players picking off the grunts while the big guns tear their team to pieces- and the worst, guys trying to shoot a shotgun at long range.

Halo is a thinking man’s game, the ultimate multiplayer game- the elite FPS. It required coordination with team-mates, precision and strategy, and while Gears had gruesome deaths and chainsaws to the face, it just wasn’t doing it any longer. The sweet kills should have been satisfying, but they lacked challenge- something Halo has in spades.

I gradually climbed back onto the elite server over the week, eventually joining up with my old team-mates, who unfortunately, hadn’t really improved.

NoobKillaz567: You were in the nest. I saw you eat a fucking frag grenade. So it ain’t my fault! You were supposed to be watching my back.

SnipezYA_1234: How the hell did you even get on this server, kid?

Me: I killed losers like you. Now, come on- it’s a new round. Let’s fuck these guys up!

NoobKillaz567: Goddamn, this kid’s got a mouth. My mom would smack the shit out of me if she heard me talking like that. How old are you kid?

SnipezYA_1234: I don’t really give a shit as long as you can play. But that loss was your fault, kid. You were supposed to be our fucking sniper. Getting a frag is noob shit. You gotta take out the fucking turret.

NoobKillaz567: Yes, sweet fucking milkweed. This is the stuff.

I had improved to an astronomical degree, considering before, I couldn’t even kill Greg. While the next round loaded, I watched the kill-cam, and I felt a sudden tightness in my throat. I had cost my team the round. The missile turret, whose operator I had been targeting before my death, got off a deadly volley, essentially annihilating everyone on the ground.

I muted my mic and tried to compose myself before the next round. The tightness in my throat remained and along with it, a large lump formed.

My headset crackled.

SnipezYA_1234: Kid, you can’t mute your mic between rounds. We are talking strategy here. I’m going sniper here. You go for the rocket launcher at the far end of the map. Get in the truck and take me to the bluffs.

I swallowed hard, trying to banish the lump, but it remained. I flicked the mic back on, but my voice was scratchy and uncertain.

Me: S-Sorry, I’m back.

NoobKillaz567: If your mommy calls you for dinner, you let us know so we can replace your ass before the next round.

My headset crackled again and quickly filled with laughter from my teammates.

The round started, and I hopped into a vehicle, zooming toward the rocket launcher, eager to prove that the previous round had been a fluke. The sniper hopped into the back, obviously intent on reaching the bluffs above the rocket launcher spawn area. I knew exactly what he was doing because I had done it a thousand times before.

I watched the screen intently, trying to focus on keeping the vehicle moving while also shifting from side to side to avoid enemy fire. My hands had grown surprisingly sweaty, a common condition known as ‘noob grip’. The controller nearly slipped from my hands as the lump in my throat grew. The lump made me think of frogs, and my fertile imagination flared to life, causing my focus to shift for an instant. In the three seconds it took for me to shift my attention back to the game and off the time that I ruined a pair of new jeans trying to catch frogs, I had steered the vehicle into the side of a mountain, killing both myself and my passenger.

SnipezYA_1234: Fuck sakes! What the hell was that? We are fucked now.

It was true. I saw the opposing team grab the rocket launcher and head right for the base. It was a capture the flag sudden death match, meaning one capture would win the game.

I mumbled, “It’s all my fault.”

NoobKillaz2567: You’re damn right. Why don’t you give the controller back to your big brother so we can start sucking less?

SnipezYA_1234: You are fucking up our elite rating. You know five losses in a row gets you kicked off the elite server, right? I’m starting to think that you’re trying to screw with your brother’s account or something.

NoobKillaz2567: This shit never would have happened with KillStreak69.

My former screen-name was a number of things: a friends list, trophies, kill counts and a string of impressive online victories. It meant little to anyone else, but those accomplishments were the bar and after the studio, I needed a victory, no matter how trivial it may seem. If I could reach the plateau, that same brass ring that Ryan Sullivan reached, it would mean KillStreak69 and I were one and the same. Considering I couldn’t exactly show off my prowess with the opposite sex, the video game was my only choice.

Unfortunately, doubt clouded my mind as thoughts moved about my head like sugar-crazed children in a bouncy castle. Shit. That sounded way more fun than this stupid game.

I desperately tried to swallow what felt like a now basketball-sized lump in my throat. Failing, I croaked as I spoke:

Me: I’ll b-bring it next round. I-I’m going back sniper!

My words sounded about as convincing as Greg trying to persuade me that the Camaro was a better car than any brand of Mustang. My voice, which was already high, pitched even higher with my constricted vocal chords and the cancerous lump in my throat.

My headset filled with laughter.

NoobKillaz2567: Fuck sake, I’ve got coke coming out of my nose. You are shitting me with this, or I’m higher than fuck. Goddamn that voice. She sounds like a fucking chipmunk.

SnipezYA_1234: It’s not funny. She’s fucking up our rating. I’m gonna report her before the next round. I’m sure she’s on her brother’s account.

NoobKillaz2567: I played with her before, man. She’s usually legit. There’s a thread about her and everything on the forums. She’s like a fucking prodigy.

SnipezYA_1234: You are high as fuck. And not in the good way. She crashed us into a mountain. She sucks. If we lose one more, we are off this server, and it’ll take fucking months to get back on.

We fought hard, but veteran Halo players can dominate any team if they gain control of all the power weapons on the board. So, it wasn’t surprising that with the sniper rifle and rocket launcher in the hands of the enemy we fell. That made four games in a row we had lost. I thought about disconnecting, but it would mean an instant ban from the elite server.

“Fuck. I can’t do this.”

The doubt played itself over and over in my head, like great sweeping waves crashing down on a bobbing life raft- I was barely holding on.

NoobKillaz2567: Wait? What did you say, kid?

Me: Nothing. I didn’t say fucking anything.

SnipezYA_1234: You said you can’t do this. What can’t you fucking do? Screw with your brother’s account? We heard you, so there’s no fucking point lying.

Me: I didn’t say a fucking thing. I was thinking about doing shitty in the next round. That’s it. I’m fine.

NoobKillaz2567: I’m wasted, but I heard you say it. You kind of like mumbled it, but yeah I heard it. Look, kid- we’re going to beat these fuckers because I know you’re good.

SnipezYA_1234: NoobKillaz the fucking motivational speaker.

NoobKillaz2567: I’m thinking about a new career.

SnipezYA_1234: Fuck sake, man. Get in the game. Last time you were wasted like that you said you wanted to be a fucking astronaut. It’s too late anyway.

The loading screen counted down 3-2-1, and we were thrust once again into the vibrant yet deadly world of Halo. I recognized the map immediately, and we all knew what to do. We had all played it hundreds of times before.

Me: Hey Noob, uh, am I as good as KillStreak?

NoobKillaz2567: Maybe. You take down those tanks, and we’ll talk, kid.

SnipezYA_1234: What is this a fucking counselling session? Let’s fuck these guys up.

I raced toward the rocket launcher, and this time I managed to get it before the other team. With three massive tanks barrelling down on me, I fired off a quick salvo, managing to destroy one of them. The other team was attempting a vehicle rush. It was usually sound strategy, but tanks were cumbersome and easy pickings for the rocket launcher. They had made a fatal error.

NoobKillaz2567: Fuck yeah! That’s more like it.

We were still heavily outgunned, but we had managed to capture all the power weapons, including the sniper rifle, although it was useless against heavy armour. Still, the opposing team had to actually leave their tanks to capture the flag, making them easy fodder for a sniper’s bullet.

I sprinted toward the enemy base, knowing that the tank driver I killed would respawn and rejoin the tank rush. Since they were veteran players, I guessed the enemy would probably try and find a flying vehicle to support the tank rush. Tank rushes could end a round within the first two minutes, but if the defending team fortified their positions, it usually significantly delayed victory.

I watched an aircraft, similar to a stealth bomber fly overhead, and smirked- the enemy flag was completely unguarded.

A series of winding and narrow paths led up the base of the cliff where the enemy’s flag sat atop a rocky outcropping. I cursed myself for not jumping into a vehicle, but I realized if I had, I would have been a massive blinking target on the radar of the now departed enemy aircraft. I slowly manoeuvred my character along the narrow paths, carefully scaling the cliff face.

Me: Going for the flag, Ghost on the way.

SnipezYA_1234: They are fucking pounding us here, you better fucking hurry, kid.

I heard laughing, but it wasn’t from my headset. The sudden tittering, sounding like tinkling wind chimes, drew my attention away from the game and nearly caused my death, causing me to teeter on a ledge.

Me: Shit. That was close.

NoobKillaz2567: What is it? That flag should be as easy as Snipez’s sister.

SnipesYA_1234: But not as easy as your fucking mom. Seriously though, kid, the Ghost is here and I gotta get outta the fucking nest. How close are you?

Me: I’m looking at it right now.

I had reached the top of the cliff and while I was lucky to reach the apex, I was even luckier to find not only the flag, but my means of escape- a jetpack. I quickly picked up the pack and then moved my character onto the flag, starting the capture sequence.

“It’s so much fun! Come on, ya hafta try it with me!”

“But I don’t wanna! It’s too hard!!”

“I’ll turn the rope slower this time. I promise!”

Childlike voices filled my ears, similar to how Monique’s panting could cause a rise out of me immediately shutting out anything but the girl blowing in my ear. The dulcet tones blocked the sound of the game and the voices of my team-mates.

While it wasn’t officially summer yet, a heatwave had been baking Los Angeles for the past two weeks. Greg and Eve didn’t have air conditioning, so I was stuck in a stifling apartment, which was another likely cause for the ‘noob grip’ I had on my controller.

It meant that it was better to have the windows open then to sit inside a microwave all day, but with the lower volume on the TV and only one part of my ear covered by the headset, I could hear the girls playing outside. Not only could I hear them, but with the slight breeze, which made the sweltering apartment bearable, it made it seem like the girls were in the apartment.

NoobKillaz2567: Kid, kid- hey! Hello?

NoobKillaz2567: You get that flag yet?

I dropped the controller, letting it skitter across the floor as I raced toward the window. I dragged a chair along with me letting it screech across the floor. Clambering up on a chair, I applied all of my weight to shut the window. Of course, it had to be one of the ancient and very heavy double pane glass windows. The fucking thing wouldn’t budge.

“Okay! It’s my turn now. You did good!”

A skipping rope slapped gently against the asphalt, each jump and each giggle caused candy-coated claws to dig into my mind, the claws digging deeper and deeper as my desire to join the girls grew.

“Wow! You did three skips that time! I wanna be good like that!”

I looked out the window and saw a skipping rope tied to a telephone pole. Two girls, one of them Kaylee’s age and one Ashley’s, were taking turns holding the rope. Each time they failed to jump the rope, they switched places. The whiney, nattering voice of the younger girl should have been a massive turnoff, like a beautiful girl with a mannish voice, but instead, it planted a powerful need, an alien yearning to reach out to these girls- to play with them, but it also caused a resurgence of doubt.

“Would they even want to play with me?”

SnipezYA_1234: What the fuck, kid? What are you doing back at the base?

NoobKillaz2567: What are you talking about? We’re in the middle of a game here.

SnipezYA_1234: I thought you had the fucking flag!? I warned you about the respawn of the second fucking tank driver. What the fuck happened?

Unable to shut the window, I quickly returned to the game, snatching my controller from the floor in the process. I decided to risk turning the volume up on the television, desperately hoping to drown out the girls. Without surround sound and minus the subwoofer, I knew the sound wouldn’t leak into Mrs. Feinstein’s apartment, interrupting her tea time or knitting, or whatever the hell she did in the afternoon. Or maybe she was taking part in a satanic ritual to torture all the world’s children with her boring old lady lessons. Either way, I was back in the game, and the slight volume raise allowed me to focus on saving my position on the elite server.

The sole tank driver continued to pound our position with heavy lasers and mortars. A laser blast flew a few inches from my head, scorching the wall behind me. Meanwhile, the aircraft maintained a target lock on our sniper nest, and I had lost the rocket launcher- the only portable weapon capable of taking down a vehicle. We were royally fucked.

Me: I can’t do this.

NoobKillaz2567: Come on, Killer_Six. We can still take these guys.

I hadn’t meant to say a word. My inner doubt had somehow reached my lips, and I realized- it wasn’t the first time. Everything that I was thinking was somehow bypassing my normally perfect filter. In the studio, I was vulnerable, newly changed, so it was easier to open up to Ashley. I also felt that I could trust her, but these two assholes, otherwise known as my team-mates, I didn’t want them to know anything about me, especially not the fact that I was doubting my skills.

As Ryan, I quickly learned that the truth must be guarded. When a person tells the truth, they might as well be exposing their neck and back to a knife. Hannah taught me this. When I was honest with her about being horny when she was trying to grieve over her stupid cat, I got the major silent treatment. Girls essentially teach men to lie. We don’t want the same things, so, to fit into their world, we lie.

Losing the ability to filter my emotions or even to control my speech was mind blowing. It was powerful evidence that I was not the same person.

That I wasn’t Ryan Sullivan.

No, I had to push on, this game represented my ego, my masculinity, and if I didn’t win, then the serum would. To most it might seem foolish to put so much stock in a game, but I needed this victory desperately. After the studio, Mrs. Feinstein, and most recently, the yearning I had to put on the blinking Barbie shoes, untouched since my arrival, and join the skipping girls, it was vital to Ryan Sullivan’s survival that I notch a victory.

I resumed play with an intense focus, realizing that the proximity of our flag to the respawn location would make it nearly impossible for the enemy to capture it, if we could actually target them. I raced out of the base, jumping into an aerial vehicle and started taking pot-shots at the tank. This drew the attention of the more heavily armed enemy ship, but this is exactly what I wanted.

The bulkier enemy ship may have had impressive firepower, but my vehicle, being smaller and faster, had the distinct advantage of better manoeuvrability. I darted from side to side, avoiding laser and heavy machine gun fire. I grinned as I approached the rocky outcropping, accelerating toward what looked like my inevitable destruction. At the last second, before impact, I pulled up on the throttle, skidding against the cliff face, but managing to propel the ship upward. One of the engines was damaged, but it was nothing compared to the spectacular explosion below me. The enemy ship smashed into the rock, bursting on impact as both ship and driver were immolated. The ship struck so hard that the rock face was permanently altered, a large ship-sized crater now a feature of the rock face, and a testament to my victory.

I steered my damaged ship on top of the enemy base, hit the eject button and watched as the ship careened into the respawned former pilot, killing him instantly. Luckily, the pilot respawned away from the flag, and I began the capture sequence.

I made my escape with a jetpack, which easily allowed me to dodge the tank’s heavy lasers. Within less than a minute of my last death, I had won the match.

NoobKillaz2567: Goddamn, that was some sick flying, Killer_Six. The kill-cam angle with the ship landing on that fucker, poetry in fucking motion. Four to one now. We going to take these mother fuckers down!

SnipezYA_1234: Gotta admit, that was pretty good, kid. You fucking raped those guys. You’re gonna have a target on your back for the next four rounds though.

NoobKillaz2567: So are you really six? Like six years old?

Me: Yeah. You got a fucking problem with that?

NoobKillaz2567: No, ma’am. Do you team with KillStreak69? Haven’t seen that bastard for a while. You know where he is?

Me: He’s my brother, and he’s probably out banging some chick. Think he plays Gears more these days.

Laughter crackled in my headset, but it wasn’t at my expense this time. I had won these assholes over and saved our position on the elite server. The next map was one I knew very well, and one where I could absolutely dominate. The loading countdown began, and I held my controller firmly. I was going to carve these bitches up.

As the timer reached zero, I came to a rapid realization.

I didn’t want to play anymore, and not only that, but continuing the game seemed like attending a whole day of church followed by eight hours trapped in a room with Mrs. Feinstein listening to her recount the first two-hundred years of her life.

Me: What the fuck is wrong with me?

NoobKillaz2567: You with us Killer_Six? Why are you just standing there? We gotta be first to the turrets.

SnipezYA_1234: Come on, kid! Fucking move!

NoobKillaz2567: Maybe she lost connection.

I stared at the screen, absolutely dumbfounded. The five matches we played had only taken about twenty minutes, and I should have been completely jacked up, sitting there tearing through the enemy, racking up kills and maintaining an impressive kill streak, but I wasn’t.

I finally managed to move my character, but it was like I was only going through the motions. Worse still, I started to hear the laughter of the girls over the explosions and death that leaked from my television. I turned up the volume to a point where the laughter should have been drowned out, but my mind filled in the blanks, like a terrible song on loop.

NoobKillaz2567: Kid, if you have to go- I mean we get it. Just let us know. We are safe from the ban with that win. If you gotta like go for dinner or whatever, it’s cool.

Just like that, I had lost my credibility, the respect from fellow gamers- I was back to being kid. Again, it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, they were only words, and Halo was only a game, but it was a game that I loved. I had replayed the single-player campaign with Greg and spent countless hours on the multiplayer.

Me: Yeah, sorry my fucking mom’s calling me for dinner. See you assholes later.

I popped out Halo and put in Tomb Raider, hoping that a switch to a different game and a sweet, sweet ass would reignite my passion for gaming. The black title screen stared back at me, reflecting a confused and uninterested little girl holding a controller so loosely that it could easily slip out of her hands. Like a discarded toy replaced after a Christmas or birthday haul, I set the controller down and made my way back to the window.

I could have been raiding tombs and looking at a tight, female backside and instead- instead I wanted to fucking skip with children? It was like Halo and Tomb Raider didn’t even exist, my mind, seemingly incapable of two separate thoughts was betraying me.

I watched the little girls enjoying themselves, their faces displaying their innocence and the simple joy of play. Thoughts of powerful frustration and anger overtook the desire to skip, but they immediately moved to my lips.

“What...What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Okay, I need to fucking get with it here. I’m not going outside to play. This is fucking insane.”

“Why am I talking to myself?”

My thoughts formed the words without any filter, without control.

A shrill voice peeped, “Are you OK?” It was the younger girl.

The older girl yelled, “You want to play with us?” What was it with kids? Why did they seemingly want to play with each other, and especially little girls? Ashley didn’t want to play with the boys after she became Madison. All she wanted to do was play with me. Was it because of their filter, their age or were they infected by some sort of hive mind parasites? I’m guessing the latter.

I had to close that fucking window.

I climbed back onto the chair, but this time I was armed with a hammer. I took the tool in two hands and slowly brought it down on top of the window. It budged, moving about an inch. I repeated this process until it was half closed.

“We’ll let you go first! Ask your mommy if you can come and play!”

“Yeah, after we’re gonna play at the water park in the shooty things!” I knew what they meant. There was a small water park about a block from the apartment. It had slides, sprinklers and even a giant bucket that once filled would drench the kids from head to toe, resulting in shrieks of joy.

It sounded like it would be really fun and maybe the girls would be my friends.

I slammed the hammer down on the window, causing some of the paint to chip in the process. Finally, I managed to close it, successfully blocking out the voices that called to me like a pack of wolves who had lost one of their own.

“I’m not letting them get to me. I’m going to do what I want.”

I picked up the discarded controller and tried to turn my mind back to the game. All I could picture, however, was the skipping rope, the slides, sprinklers and that giant bucket- and laughing and playing with my new-found friends. After all, it was kind of weird that I had a friend who was a grown man, and even Eve- she was kind of a friend, but with her warm hugs, gentle voice, she was more like…

Murder. Death. Kill. Tomb Raider wasn’t doing it. I quickly popped Gears of War in- I needed chainsaws to the head, blood gore, bits of brain, and bone. Again, I couldn’t get past the title screen.

I set the controller down on the coffee table. My entire body began to shake as I slowly picked up the hammer. The implement was raised slowly, to the point where it rested gently on my shoulder. Despite my meagre strength, the weight of the hammer still allowed it to land with significant force. It cracked the faceplate of the controller. The second blow dislodged the battery pack, while the third, caught one of the joysticks, bending it at an unnatural angle.

All rational and reasonable thought fled my mind. I shrieked, my body and now my voice, completely out of control.

I hated the controller, and for some reason, it bore the brunt of my rage. Again and again, I dropped the hammer, my exertion eventually causing a painful burning in my arms, but still, I persisted. Ryan Sullivan had never felt such emotions, never exhibited such a weakness. When I was angry, I lashed out, but the emotions were fleeting, and they didn’t linger as long as I removed the cause of them, which usually meant leaving or beating the shit out of someone.

Even in my previous rages, I was calculated, controlled- I hit Greg, but I knew what I was doing. It had a purpose. The destruction of the only controller in the apartment that didn’t severely hamper my skill was beyond illogical- it was madness. I felt less like a human being and more like an exotic creature, a wailing ball of ire, spewing red-orange and blue flames in all directions.

My vision, tainted by a red haze, I didn’t even see my target, and I was only broken from my choler, by the sound of shattering glass.

Like the first blast of ice cold water on a raging libido, my anger was immediately doused. I turned to look at the source of the noise and saw that a glass had fallen off the table. Thankfully, it didn’t shatter into tiny shards, so picking it up would be easy enough. I took a moment to catch my breath and then looked at the damage I had done to the controller.

The face plate was cracked to a point where the innards of the device, the complex layer of computer chips, were visible. It could have been taped if not for the joystick, which looked like a badly broken thumb, bent and twisted at an impossible angle. Finally, the face buttons had been driven into the layer upon layer of computer chips, cracking what I understood to be the brain of the controller. It was not salvageable in the least.

“Shit. Greg and Eve are going to be really mad at me.”

Again, I was talking to myself, but worst of all- fuck, I should not see them that way. Mad at me? It was my controller, and it was a stupid glass. Why did it matter? Yes, they might be a bit upset, but so what? If they said anything, I’d tell them to fuck off, to mind their own fucking business.

I sighed heavily and leaned down to pick up the broken pieces of glass. On my hands and knees, I scoured the floor, managing to find all but one. I continued searching for the fragment, deciding to check underneath the couch, when I felt something sharp cut into my leg. Looking down in horror, I could see that the wayward piece of glass had pierced my bare knee.

I stood quickly, as a result the glass fell from my knee, but the damage was done. I looked down and saw that there was deep gash, which bled freely.

I figured that I would apply my reason and my adult mind to control my emotions, and the pain, but I never even had a chance. As I looked down at the blood and the wound, I burst into tears.

The tiny, insignificant tear I had shed in Greg’s car the night I escaped from the studio was nothing compared to the flood that came. Within seconds my cheeks were wet as I reached out to cradle my bloodied knee. My cries were loud yet wordless, coming in pained unintelligible moans and fractured almost strangled shrieks.

I thought of Greg, and then Eve, desperately seeking her comfort rather than her medical knowledge, I felt a word on my tongue, my mouth moved to form it.

“Mo….!”

Even through the pain, I managed to stop myself, to murder any thought that the woman who hated Ryan Sullivan could ever fill such a role. While I sought comfort for the jagged, throbbing pain in my knee, I would not surrender to the serum. I gritted my teeth, and the crying slowly petered off, reduced to pathetic sniffles and an embarrassing runny nose.

I limped to the bathroom and pulled my step stool up to the cabinet, quickly removing a box of Band-Aids. Upon closer inspection of the wound, however, I realized that I would need gauze. I limped to the kitchen to get the first aid kit from underneath the sink.

It actually wasn’t first time I needed it. After a drunken party where I decided to suddenly think I was an expert knife juggler, Eve also patched me up. Of course with the alcohol, I barely felt it. Now, however, it hurt like hell. Imagine a hundred tiny bee stings in your knee recurring every two seconds or so. It felt like there was still glass in my knee, but I was in too much pain to pull it out.

The door received a firm and familiar blow. A heavy cane assaulted the wood, followed by a concerned yet unyielding voice. “Riley! Are you hurt? Are you alone? Tell me child!”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Not her…not now. OK Ryan hold it together. Don’t make a fucking sound.”

I closed my eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain, and while my adult mind managed to convey to my body that it shouldn’t be a massive pussy about a little scratch, the fear of being discovered alone in the apartment and in obvious need of medical care set off a new round of crying. Now it was fear and pain, coupled with humiliation. As I cried, blood ran down my leg. My whole body shook as my heart thundered and my head swam.

The heavy cane mounted a new assault on the door.

“Child! I can hear you crying in there, you are obviously in pain! Let me help me! If you don’t open this door immediately, I will be forced to call the paramedics!”

My eyes flung open as if someone had tugged on a shade, sending it hurtling toward the roller. I limped toward the door, carrying my stool with me, and slowly clicked the deadbolt. Reaching up for the door handle, I turned it feebly, watching as Mrs. Feinstein rushed toward me, trailed by the two little girls from outside.

Upon seeing me, the wizened crone’s normally iron-like façade crumbled, her face, normally held in such a way to maintain a tempered yet at times frightening state, gave way immediately to compassion.

“See, Grannie? I told you she was hurt.”

“Is she gonna be OK, Grannie?”

Mrs. Feinstein smiled in a way that was wholly alien to my previous understanding of her very existence- which was to generally torment me and children around the world from some sort of fortress of skulls. Then, she shocked me further, by speaking in a voice that was meant to be comforting. “It’s a nasty one, but we’ll get her fixed up. Emma, can you please get Grannie that first aid kit over there?

Emma, the older girl, nodded her head and dutifully obeyed. Mrs. Feinstein turned to the young one and said, “Sophia, you’re going to be my special helper too. I need you to tell Riley that it’ll be OK, and to be brave, OK?”

This was not the same woman. How could she both a grandmother or great grandmother when she was also the queen of all witches?

“Emma, you watch yourself near the table. There could still be broken glass on the floor.” The older girl stopped suddenly and stood up straight, the same way I did whenever Mrs. Feinstein used her authoritative tone or tapped her cane on the floor. Emma moved across the floor gracefully, her steps matching her lithe dancer’s body. Both girls had brown hair, although Sophia’s was more of a chestnut. Despite the sweltering not-even-summer day, the girls wore proper dresses, with bows and frills- or something. They looked more like dolls instead of children, especially the way Emma moved almost mechanically across the floor.

Mrs. Feinstein hobbled toward the couch and set herself down, using the cane to steady herself, while I looked on from the adjacent cushion. She said calmly, “There’s no need to be afraid, Riley. I’m here to help you. Have you called your mother?”

I whimpered in pain and shook my head solemnly. This response elicited a frown from Mrs. Feinstein, again making it seem like her entire face was caving in. The firm tone returned, like melted steel suddenly tempered again, “The first thing you should have done is call your mother. And if your parents insist on leaving you home alone, you should know the number of a neighbour for situations just like this.” Despite the strong tone, I didn’t sense condescension, not like when she was speaking to Eve about her parenting skills, or lack thereof.

Mrs. Feinstein asked, “I will call her then. What is her number?” She pulled a ridiculous ancient looking flip phone from her purse.

I started biting the inside of my bottom lip, realizing that with each response, Mrs. Feinstein’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. I replied, “I-I don’t know. It’s in my phone though. Um. I left it on the kitchen table.” This caused Mrs. Feinstein’s brows to lower further. If they descended any lower, they would seriously obstruct the woman’s vision.

Mrs. Feinstein instructed Sophia to apply pressure to my wound. The little girl smiled at me and gently patted my hand, “You’ll be OK. Do you like skipping? How come you didn’t wanna skip with us?” I shook my head in reply.

Emma fetched my phone and brought it to Mrs. Feinstein. She peered at the device and snorted derisively. “How does…one?” Emma sighed lightly and smiled. “This is like daddy’s phone. I know how it works. Here.”

Emma stared at the phone in confusion. “I can’t find her mom’s number. Or dad.”

Mrs. Feinstein sighed heavily and tapped the floor with her cane, “This is unacceptable. First, they leave the child alone. And now she has injured herself, and I cannot contact her parents. This is absolutely repugnant irresponsible behaviour.”

I said, “It’s in there. You just don’t know where to look.”

Emma shook her head obnoxiously, turning one way and then the next with serious attitude and an upturned lip, “Uh huh! My daddy lets me on his phone all the time. I call mommy from there sometimes. I typed M-O-M but no number!”

I reached my hand out, wincing at times as Sophia continued to apply pressure to my wound. Emma deposited the phone in my hand but did so with an extended tongue. Mrs. Feinstein looked at her granddaughter crossly, “Manners, Emma. Your behaviour is unbecoming of a young lady.”

Once the phone was in my hand, I quickly found Eve’s number. Pulling the phone close to my chest, to hide the screen from the others, I rapidly edited Eve’s contact information. Within seconds, Eve became MUMMY.

I turned the phone around to show Emma. She laughed, “You spelled it wrong, dummy!”

I nodded, trying to hide a smirk, “Yeah, I guess you’re smarter than me.” Mrs. Feinstein cast a withering glare at Emma, who offered me a rapid, “Sorry, Grannie.”

I dialed Eve’s number, part of me desperately hoping that she wouldn’t pick up or that she had taken Greg’s car to work. She never answered the phone in the car, and she got angry when Greg did it.

“Hello? Ryan? I don’t have much time to talk, I’m just finishing a break, and we’re shorthanded today.” She was surprised, but with good reason, I never called her at work, in fact- I never called her.

I replied with the same level of confusion, “Uh…hi. Mom.”

Eve’s voice was barely a whisper, “Ryan? What the hell is going on?”

I said, “It’s Riley, Mom. I-I hurt myself. Mrs. Feinstein is here. I cut myself on some glass.”

There was silence, and then something clearly clicked within Eve’s mind. She replied, “Oh sweetie, are you OK? Mommy’s coming home right now.”

While I should have felt a deep sense of unease, a powerful near revulsion at the thought of Eve being my mother, it didn’t come. Instead, her concern and the sweetness of her voice comforted me, seemingly dulling the pain as the air danced along my wound. It was as if we were in a club and Eve was the girl hanging off me the whole night, acting like some kind of female cock blocker. She was the grenade that I wanted nothing to do with, and yet throughout the night, started growing on me, despite my previous taste.

I replied, “I’m OK, Mom. You don’t have to worry, I’m tough. You don’t need to ...”

The phone was ripped from my hands as Mrs. Feinstein showed a surprising amount of strength for someone in such a gnarled state. I blinked slowly in surprise shocked that she had pulled it from me so easily.

Sophia asked, “How come you broke your game? Did it make you mad?”

Emma smirked and said matter-of-factly, “I bet it did.”

I shook my head, “No! I mean- it was the controller, it didn’t work.”

Emma laughed, “My cousin Kyle said the same thing. But he threw his at the wall. How’d you even get a hammer? And how come you get to stay home alone?”

I was thankful I didn’t feel the urge to play with these girls, and it likely had to do with the fact that both of them, and Emma especially, were extremely annoying.

I said, “I’m not telling you shit. Go away, I can do this myself.” I snatched the cloth from Sophia and peered down at my knee. It still hurt, but it looked like the bleeding had slowed.

Mrs. Feinstein had gone into the bathroom to have what I assumed was a private conversation. A part of me seethed, knowing that I had been removed from the adult conversation completely. Mrs. Feinstein obviously didn’t know my actual identity, but it still pissed me off. I knew that Eve and Greg were already having conversations behind my back.

Sophia’s bottom lip trembled, “You’re mean. I don’t think I wanna play with you. You don’t even have any fun toys.”

Allowing my anger at the exclusion from the adult conversation to influence my behaviour, and forgetting I was supposed to be six-year old Riley, I quickly retorted, “Then you should fucking leave. I didn’t ask for your help. I can do this myself.”

To prove it, I removed a bandage and gauze from the first aid kit, proceeding to quickly deal with my injury. Why was I being such a pussy about this? I knew it was the serum, but even still, what I had seen as a gaping wound spurting blood was a little slit. As my machismo returned, I realized that it was really nothing more than a scratch. I had faced way worse during full contact no equipment football games on bases. We usually left the field bloodied but content.

“Riley! You will absolutely not speak that way in front of my granddaughters! Now I see that you’ve bandaged yourself, but did you apply some antiseptic? Did you wash the cut thoroughly?” She shook her head, “I still cannot believe your mother leaves you here alone. What would have happened if I hadn’t heard you crying? What then?”

I said flippantly, “I wasn’t really crying. And it doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t need that. My mom’s a nurse. She’ll probably look at it when she gets home.”

Sophia looked like she was about to cry, “How come you are so mean? I-I…want to help. I want to make you feel better.”

Emma said, “She thinks she’s tough. But I bet when we leave, she’s crying her eyes out.” Emma proceeded to make obnoxious crying baby noises, “Wah! Wah! Wah!”, but when neither Mrs. Feinstein nor her sister laughed, she stopped.

Sophia said, “My mommy said sometimes when we hurt…we get mad. If we played maybe you’d feel OK?”

Emma nodded, “I got a Frozen game for my birthday. We could play until your mom gets here. And after we could play dolls.”

Before the laboratory, the plot to mold children into future pill poppers and the agency dealing only in perfection, I was not a conspiracy theorist. I believed things happened for a reason, but not because of some wide reaching intrigue. Megan Fox was in movies because she was drop-fucking-dead gorgeous. Ashley couldn’t get serious roles because she was too hot. These were not conspiracies- these were simple facts.

However, I was beginning to think that Frozen was tied to the laboratory scheme, that there were some hidden messages in it that caused all little girls to fall in love with the movie, the toys, the games- the toilet paper. I hadn’t met one little girl who wasn’t obsessed with it, and even I had to admit- whenever I heard the word, I felt a little squeal of joy trying desperately to escape.

“I really want a skating Elsa doll.”

Sophia beamed, “Yeah! Me too! I hope Santa brings me one. Emma’s already got that one, but she won’t share! So do ya wanna play?”

The thought had only briefly passed through my mind, but the instant it did, it was like a massive metallic hook pierced the notion and swung it toward my lips, like a fly fisherman pulling a wriggling bass into his boat. I fought the urge to clap my hands over my mouth in surprise.

Without waiting for me to say another word, Emma sprinted out of the apartment. Shit. This was bad. When the girls were a source of irritation it was much easier to battle my desire to play with them, but if they were actually doing something fun…

Mrs. Feinstein said, “Before you girls play, I need to ensure that Riley’s injury is properly treated. Did you use antiseptic young lady?”

I frowned, “Uh. I-I don’t remember.”

I fumed internally at the continued power that Mrs. Feinstein wielded over me. Ryan Sullivan would have looked at the brittle old woman and ignored her completely, not even giving her the time of day. She had a similar power over Greg and Eve, but they weren’t in the body of a six-year old girl. In her presence, I felt like a scolded child.

I should have lied and told her yes, but her stern face accompanied by furrowed brows made it extremely difficult to lie to her. Incredibly, more than anyone else, the server from El Casa, the bus drivers and even Mrs. Daniels, who was treating me like her own child, none of them could make me feel my physical age like Mrs. Feinstein.

Maybe she really was a witch?

Without waiting for me to say anything, Mrs. Feinstein removed the bandage slowly, causing me to wince. Sophia gently patted my hand and smiled. Mrs. Feinstein fetched the antiseptic spray from the kit, peering down at me with none of the sternness she had exhibited moments ago. “This will sting, Riley. Do you have a teddy or something you can hold?”

I shook my head, “I can take it. It’s no biggie.”

This caused a smile to form on the face of the alleged witch. “You are courageous, young lady.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for the sudden pain. It came, but I managed to rein in my emotions. I kept telling myself that I had suffered far worse injuries, hoping that my thoughts wouldn’t be immediately vocalized. Mrs. Feinstein replaced the bandage with a smile.

Sophia looked at me in wonderment, “Wow! You’re really tough, Riley. I wanna be like you.”

I said, “Better start drinking then, kid.” This response elicited a glower from Mrs. Feinstein.

Mrs. Feinstein asked, “What sort of television programs are your parents allowing you to watch? Or did you get such inappropriate language from these video machines?”

I was saved from answering the question by Emma’s sudden reappearance. She quickly went about setting up the board game. Sophia left my side, but I didn’t budge. Still, with the game happening in the same room, I knew it would be nearly impossible to resist. Along with the game, Emma had brought a backpack, which surprise- surprise, was Frozen-themed. Sticking out from the top of the pack was a collection of plastic limbs.

Sophia asked as if her entire existence depended on my answer, “Are ya coming to play?”

I shook my head, “I-I don’t like Frozen. And I’m not feeling good.”

It was a harder lie to tell than I anticipated. However, Mrs. Feinstein didn’t press the issue. She remained on the couch, watching her granddaughters with a smile. Sophia pouted at first, but she quickly got into the game.

The way I understood it, the game was similar to Snakes and Ladders, but instead of snakes, it used slides. The winner was the first one to reach Elsa’s ice castle. As stupid as the game sounded, five minutes later, I wanted to play so badly it was all I could think about.

I considered, for a moment, ripping off the bandage, exposing the wound to the air anything, driving my fingernails into it- anything to take my mind off the game and how desperately I wanted to join the two other girls.

Mrs. Feinstein turned to me, “Are you sure you don’t want to play, dear? It looks like a lot of fun. You aren’t actually glued to the couch are you? Is that why you can’t play?”

Something escaped from my mouth, a nearly alien sound made in unison with Sophia. My mouth turned up into a smile, my cheeks dimpling in the process.

Mrs. Feinstein said knowingly, “Ah, so super glue is the culprit. Well there’s only one remedy girls. We’re going to have to pull Riley off the couch.”

Emma said, “Grannie, we want you to play too! You can be Olaf.”

The woman replied, “No, no that won’t do. I can’t sit on the floor like you unfortunately. Why I’d probably never be able to get back up! Here you girls would be off to college, and I’d still be here.”

Sophia said, “You’re silly, Grannie!”

Mrs. Feinstein smiled, “I know, dear. Now we’ll let Riley come on her own. I was just ribbing about pulling her off the couch.”

I remained on the couch, trying to think of anything to keep my mind off the game. I pictured girls in bikinis and tight-assed club girls wearing so little it would be considered scandalous, grinding against me and generally filling the fantasy of any red-blooded male on the planet. When this didn’t work, I tried going through the plot of Goodfellas, the Godfather- the first five Friday the 13th movies, but nothing was working. The sights and sounds of the game pierced my brain like a white-hot arrow.

Seconds later, I realized that I was slowly edging my way off the couch.

Emma said, “Riley, you can be Elsa if you want.”

These were apparently the magic words. I flew off the couch and settled in next to Sophia, taking the offered game piece in my hands as if it was suddenly the most important object in the world. I identified with Anna, being the younger sister, but I wanted to be Elsa because- because she made fucking ice out of her hands. Oh, and she made a really pretty dress too.

Shit. Was I was really comparing myself to Frozen characters?

One game. I would play one game with them, then I’d hide in the bedroom until Eve got home.

Sophia asked, “How old are you?”

I answered, “Six.” This caused Sophia’s face to break into a wide grin. She said excitedly, peering at me with wide expectant eyes, “Me too! I go to Grannie’s after school. Do you wanna play next time too?”

I knew the look she was giving me, although usually it belonged to the girl at the bar or the gym that I had no interest in. She was the girl that was trying too hard and offered no challenge.

Emma interjected, “We only go to Grannie’s on Mondays and sometimes Wednesdays.”

I instantly disliked Emma. She reminded me of know-it-all kids from school. She was first to raise her hand, and if she wasn’t first, she would try and raise it higher than anyone else. I had dated girls like her and usually they turned into the epitome of high maintenance attention whores. Girls who needed constant reassurance concerning their looks, their intelligence…and incredibly, even the way they breathed. A girl actually asked me once if her exhaling bothered me. Not surprisingly, she was an incredibly easy lay because quick compliments would soften even the hardest eyes.

Mrs. Feinstein said, “Since this is Riley’s first time playing, why not let her go first?” Sophia smiled happily and clapped her hands together. Emma simply nodded.

I spun a small cardboard wheel and the game began. Halfway through the game, I was in the lead, with Sophia only a couple spaces behind me. As the game neared the end, I was pleased that I managed to control any childish or girlish outbursts. With a lucky spin, I was positioned to win the game on the next turn. With the realization that victory was near, a great bubbly feeling entered my body, bringing with it an overarching sense of happiness. I pulled my knees up into my body, attempting to squelch the emotion. Fear also descended on me, as I saw my actions, my thoughts as foreign. Simply put, I shouldn’t have been so overjoyed at the prospect of beating a six and an eight year old at a game designed for kids. This wasn’t a kill streak that lasted the whole match or the first phone number on a slow night- it was a stupid piece of cardboard.

Thirty seconds later, I had won. Unfettered, uncontrollable joy burst from me, followed by a rapid flapping of my arms.

Emma said, “You trying to fly away, Riley? You’re a weirdo.”

It took a moment for the joy to wash away, but it did so easily, once I realized the implication of my actions.

I hadn’t flapped my arms like that since…I was five years old. It was something an overexcited child did, the happiness, the exhilaration too great for mere cries of victory- it needed frantic motions. Like Emma, kids made fun of me for it, and gradually I stopped doing it, but the fact that it had returned, more than anything else, was mind blowing.

Unlike alien giggling and the unfamiliar dresses and toys, the flapping was something wholly familiar that placed my mind back firmly into my childhood. While it was humiliating, I also remembered why I was so excited- summer vacation, my dad coming home and the hours I knew we’d spend together- birthdays and Christmas.

Sophia grinned, “So you wanna play again?”

I did, a thousand times over, and while I knew that Sophia and Emma would have to leave eventually, I already started to feel anticipation in my limbs at their eventual return. My mind suddenly filled with pictures of us skipping, playing at the water park, and my face- it looked exactly like Sophia’s, with happy dancing eyes and a smile as wide as my face- it was innocence and bliss, a mind without worry, without the serum- a battle fought and lost yet completely forgotten.

“No! Fuck-Fucking no way! I don’t want to play this stupid fucking game, and you cunts and your fucking dolls- just leave…! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Sophia’s expression went from stupefied with the smile dropping off her face to hurt and finally to a face that scrunched up as if struck physically with a steady flow of tears.

Mrs. Feinstein also appeared shocked, but she rapidly regained her composure. She said firmly, “Girls, clean up your things and wait for your parents in the apartment.”

The woman’s voice was steely. With it, she could have commanded presidents, kings- and yet she chose teaching for some reason.

The girls did as they were told. Emma cast an angry look in my direction, while Sophia continued to cry. Within a minute both of them were out the door.

Mrs. Feinstein remained on the couch. I had expected her to start threatening me with her cane, but she was oddly calm. “Are you happy here, Riley?”

The question caught me completely off guard, “What are you talking about? Sure, I’m happy. What the hell kind of question is that?”

I was expecting a fierce and lengthy lecture from her about how a proper young lady should act, and not call other young ladies ‘cunts’.

Mrs. Feinstein replied, “Your behaviour today tells a different story. You were having so much fun with my granddaughters, why did you speak to them that way?”

I said, “I told you already. I didn’t want to play their stupid game anymore.”

The old woman nodded, “Do you have any friends at school?”

I shook my head, “Fuck. What does that have to do with anything?”

Mrs. Feinstein said with surprising softness, “I just want to make sure you are happy and safe, Riley. I’ve seen you with your father. I know you two get along very well, but you should have friends your own age. And you are staying home alone, I just don’t think ...”

I said, “Mind your goddamn business.”

Mrs. Feinstein said, “I’ve dealt with tougher nuts than you, young lady. Don’t think that because I’m old that there’s cobwebs up here. I’m still sharp as a tack. Now, I want you to answer me truthfully. Are you attending school?”

The old woman’s steely gaze made it difficult to lie, but I was still the master. I replied, “Y-Yes of course. What makes you think I’m not?”

Mrs. Feinstein said matter-of-factly, “You aren’t terribly well socialized. That means that you don’t seem to know how to act around children your own age.”

I replied, “What? So we all have to be tea-sipping Frozen obsessed dress wearing Polly prissy pants?”

Mrs. Feinstein’s features did not change, but she could not hide the amusement in her eyes, “No. Absolutely not.” Her eyes hardened, “Do you stay alone by yourself after school every day? I ask this because I’m concerned for your safety.”

I said, “Just leave me the fuck alone, OK? I didn’t ask for your help. I showed you that I did the bandage myself. I can take care of whatever happens.”

Just then, the door flew open. Eve ran in and immediately wrapped her arms around me. She picked me up and planted kisses on my cheek, all the while nattering, “Baby! Are you OK? Does it still hurt?”

Despite the fact that the wound had been bandaged, Eve’s frantic behaviour and seemingly real anxiety transferred to me, and suddenly, I felt pain again. Tears welled in my eyes, my entire body seemingly wracked with pain, and then like some sort of wonderful painkiller, it was gone. Eve was fiercely hugging me. She placed her hand on my cheek and gently guided my head so that our cheeks were touching.

She spoke gently, “Shh. Shh. It’s OK, baby, mommy’s here.”

I felt safe in her arms. Breaking away from her or swearing at her for treating me like a child would break character. So I allowed the embrace to continue. Plus, it wasn’t like I was hugging her back.

Mrs. Feinstein interrupted our near tearful reunion. “I know that you are a young and inexperienced parent, but you cannot under any circumstances leave your child alone like this again.”

I broke out of Eve’s embrace and said flippantly, “Aren’t your granddaughters in your apartment? Alone?”

Mrs. Feinstein clucked, “Yes. But they do not have access to hammers. The drinking glasses available to them are plastic. And most importantly, they aren’t you, young lady. Emma is very mature, and she looks after her sister very well. I wouldn’t leave them alone for an extended period of time, but they’ve earned my trust.”

She turned to Eve, “Miss, your daughter is extremely ill-mannered. She is a veritable hellion. I have no idea how someone who takes care of individuals with serious illnesses could have such a constant lapse in judgment. She was extremely ungrateful for the help that I provided, in your absence, and,” Mrs. Feinstein lifted herself up using the ornate cane, quickly hobbling over to stand an inch apart from Eve, “frankly, the way you and your husband have chosen to raise her is absolutely appalling. A six-year old girl should not be swearing in the same manner as a common criminal, or a low-rent hussy.”

She tapped her cane firmly on the floor, causing Eve and I to stand at attention, “I’ve half a mind to contact child protective services. Not simply because of her behaviour, but the very fact that you leave her alone and give her free rein in the apartment. She could have seriously injured herself. Miss, your beautiful daughter could have died. What if the cut she received was more grievous, what if she had severed an artery?”

Mrs. Feinstein shook her head slowly, “Now what have you got to say for yourself?”

Eve took the full brunt of the attack, simply standing there with her mouth slightly open and her shoulders slowly sagging under the weight of the severe scolding. I opened my mouth in reply, but Mrs. Feinstein’s withering gaze, which I assumed could actually kill flowers and small rodents, sucked the courage from my body.

Eve lowered her head and said, “I-I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again, I just- I had a split shift, and I couldn’t find a babysitter, plus money’s really tight since we moved. We lived in this awful neighbourhood before, and I think that’s where she picked up a lot of that language. Riley’s usually so careful around the house, and I’m really not sure how she got the hammer. Please, please don’t call child services.”

Either Eve was an incredible actress, or she genuinely didn’t want me to be taken away. I didn’t want her to be my mother, but maybe- maybe we could be friends.

Mrs. Feinstein’s expression gradually softened, although it had gone from menacing bird of prey to pissed off old lady. “I’ll consider it. Now I must go. I’ve left my granddaughters alone long enough.”

Before leaving she turned to me, not simply glaring at me, but actually appearing hawkish again with a protruding angry jaw. Even when she was giving Eve shit, she hadn’t looked like that. “Young lady, I hope you enjoy the taste of Ivory Snow because barring some divine intervention, if you ever- and I mean ever speak that way in front of my granddaughters again, you will be burping soap bubbles for a week.”

I watched with wide eyes as the crotchety old woman hobbled out the door. Eve and I shared worried looks as the sound of the metallic cane thumping against the parkay floor grew more distant.

I said, “Maybe she’ll die before she can make the complaint?”

My attempt at levity had clearly fallen flat. Eve shook her head sadly, the worried look refusing to leave her face.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 16

“I’m going to murder you. In your sleep.”

“It’s really not that bad, Ryan. And we don’t have much of a choice.”

Eve ran a brush through my long blond hair, removing the bangs from my eyes and then proceeded to hold it all in place with a hair band. The accessory was black, and while that would have been tolerable, the little flowery pom-pom that sat atop the band was not. I watched her place the object on my head with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Humiliation was one reaction, but the feeling of comfort I got from Eve’s attention filled me with eventual dread.

“Did you fucking buy this for me or something?”

“Ryan, you really need to stop swearing. If we’re going to do this- you’ve gotta be Riley. And no, I didn’t buy it for you, Jessica’s niece left it here.”

I exhaled loudly, feeling my slim shoulders sag. “Why do I have to wear this? What was wrong with what I was wearing?”

Eve replied, “I’ve seen how her granddaughters dress. Shorts and a sweaty t-shirt aren’t going to cut it. If we are going to convince her that I’m not a completely incompetent mother you need to dress and act the part. Don’t go over the top. Just, you know, a nice simple apology, and most importantly, a thank you for what she did to help you.”

I asked, “Do you want me to fucking curtsey for her too? This is bullshit. I-I don’t…”

I felt my mouth droop into a frown, my emotions fluctuating wildly, like a roller coaster suddenly thrown into reverse. I looked up and Eve’s features had softened. Her caramel skin was radiant, her eyes welcoming, and her mouth formed a gentle smile. Her expression screamed, “Tell me what’s wrong, baby girl, and I’ll make it better.”

I pulled away from her, stomping my feet in the shiny black shoes that Eve was making me wear. I hated the little straps that went across my stockinged feet. I had worn a similar outfit in the studio with the same dress. I cursed myself for bringing the dresses and shoes from the studio, but I didn’t have any other outfits outside of the sparkly blue butterfly shirt and jeans. Still, it meant that I could avoid a shopping trip with Eve, which would undoubtedly have crushed my male ego even further.

Eve’s expression changed slightly, her mouth growing tighter as she spoke, “What’s wrong?” There was unbelievable tenderness in her voice. I wanted to spill my guts to her about my entire life- every fear, every single concern about my future, my fleeting masculinity, but deep within my mind something still felt wrong about it. Alien.

I had never even been that open with my own mom, what the hell made Eve so special?

I shouted, “Stop it, just fucking stop it! Stop trying to be my fucking mother. I don’t know what kind of sick fantasy you are playing out here, but Mrs. Daniels did the same fucking thing to me in the studio. It was all this bullshit, trying to get me to be her little girl, but only because the doctor was fucking with her head. At least she had an excuse, what the fuck is yours?”

Eve sighed gently, “I’m sorry, Ryan. You’re right. I’m not treating you like I should. But it’s kind of hard because I feel like you’re way more vulnerable- your body language is more obvious now. You hid things really well before your change. And you never really talked about what was bothering you. What was really bothering you.

“I’m not trying to make you into a little girl, and I’m not trying to be your mom. I understand that it’s important for you to be Ryan Sullivan. But I guess what I’m saying is, I kind of feel like I’m actually seeing the real Ryan for once. And it’s nice. I think that’s what it is.”

I lowered my voice. I knew we were alone in the apartment, but it was as if all my past girlfriends, the assholes from Halo and my dad were in the room. They couldn’t hear what I was going to say. I said, “Whenever I’m close to you, and you act all nice…I feel really weird. It’s not like I’m attracted to you-“

Eve interrupted with a smirk, “Heaven forbid.”

I cleared my throat, “I don’t know what it is. But it’s fucking with my head. Making me have these feelings. About you.”

Eve nodded slowly, “I get it, Ryan. I do. I’ve been having- well I’ve been having kind of the same feelings. I really try hard not to treat you that way, but between my job and the fact that I love kids, I just fall into it sometimes. I’m just not the kind of person that can turn away from someone in need.”

She looked around the room, her eyes falling on the smashed controller and the hammer, and then darting back to meet my own. “Look, if I start getting all mothery with you I give you permission to tell me to fuck off. But only in private. Deal?”

I nodded, a slight smirk gracing my face as Eve moved toward the door. Before exiting the apartment, I hastily pinned my father’s overseas service medal to the dress.

***

“Hi cutie! Where are you going in your Sunday best?”

Something happens to women when they get older. Beyond the sagging breasts and skin, the ridiculous hair-dos and unflattering clothes, they develop an almost unhealthy obsession with children. It probably has something to do with their children leaving, but many of them become baby crazed, the same way some people act around puppies or kittens.

Case in point, my Great Aunt Ruth, who used to smother my cousins and me against her massive sagging rack, kissing us and leaving our faces smeared with lipstick. The old woman in the elevator reminded me of my great aunt, all the way down to the brightly-coloured pants, the overpowering flowery perfume and the permed hair. Did they all visit the same hair salon or something? Was there actually a place called Grandma’s World that sold such ugly clothing? For as much as I disliked Mrs. Feinstein, at least she dressed in a way that wasn’t standard issue for a retirement home- one that screamed, I’m old and I’ve given up.

Already emotional from the day’s battles and my injury, I wasn’t prepared to handle being the target of affection for a clone of my Great Aunt Ruth. It was one fucking floor. Why did this woman have to get on the elevator at the same time as us?

Sensing my disdain and perhaps seeing the way my eyes flashed in anger, Eve quickly interjected, “Uh. Sorry. She’s kind of in a grumpy mood today. I’m afraid she’s not going to be very talkative.”

The old woman warbled, “Nonsense! What does such a pretty little girl have to be sad about on such a beautiful day? Why by the looks of it, I’d say you’re going to a birthday party. Am I right?”

Before leaving, Eve had hastily wrapped a box of Christmas chocolates that she never got around to eating. I almost made a joke about her weight, and the fact that she probably got three other boxes like that, but it was surprisingly easy to rein in what would have been an obvious joke. Was it the fact that Eve was being so nice to me, or was it something else?

I held the present in my arms, the shiny gold wrapping glittering gently even in the dim light provided by the elevator.

Eve smiled and nodded, “Yes, that’s right, we’re going to a birthday party.”

Even as the elevator came to a stop at the ground floor, the old woman continued talking. She also maintained a distance that said the conversation wasn’t over yet. “I remember when I took Sally to her first birthday party. She had the cutest pink number on with a bow at the back and her hair in pigtails. She kind of reminds me of you, cutie. She was nervous to go because it was the first party where I left her alone. I have to say though, that your party dress is even nicer than hers was. I bet you can’t wait to show all your friends how pretty you look in it!”

Eve and I exited the elevator, while the old woman waved happily, “Have a good time at the party, cutie!” The elevator door closed, slowly descending and taking with it the Great Aunt Ruth look-a-like.

Eve said, “That was good, Ryan. That’s exactly what you need to do with Mrs. Feinstein. Just hold it in.” She laughed, “I really thought you were going to tell her off- the way your mouth and eyes scrunched up, kind of like when you had that really bad sushi. Hey- Ryan, are you listening to me?”

I wasn’t. She had continued speaking, but she might as well have been in another room entirely because the sound was muffled, like someone had stuffed my ears with cotton baton. The reason for my complete lack of interest in her words was tied to one thing- my reflection.

Just outside the elevator was a massive mirror. Reflected in the mirror was a little girl wearing a black and silver sleeveless dress. A soft white sash cinched at her waist, while a skirt billowed outward, bringing to mind images of the extravagant ball gowns of fairy tale princesses. The metallic dots lining the skirt portion caught the light of the brighter lobby, causing each dot to sparkle like a tiny star.

The more I thought about it, and the longer I peered at myself in the mirror, the more I realized the woman was right, I was pretty. And the dress- it made me feel even prettier. Like a worm burrowing through an apple, the word seemingly hollowed out my brain, and while I should have been concerned with this partial lobotomy, it didn’t matter because- I was pretty.

Eve said, “Ryan, what are you doing?” There was concern in her voice. When I didn’t listen to her, I felt myself being tugged away from the mirror.

The instant I was away from the mirror, my stomach turned, the little smile that had formed vanished, as a sickly feeling spread throughout my body. Similar to the effects of a night of binge drinking, my whole body suddenly felt weak and my mind seemed like it was filled with a multi-layered spider web world, and I shook. I could feel a panic attack coming.

Eve lowered to one knee, bringing herself to eye level with me, “Ryan, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you look at yourself- well I mean you used to look at yourself like that- but not since your change.”

I quickly gathered my courage, attempting to squelch my panic and rebuild my walls. “It’s nothing. Just drop it.”

Eve replied, “I’m not asking you to tell me everything- like you are sitting on a therapist’s couch or something. I just think that if I know, well I can help you. You aren’t in this alone.”

I said, “Until you start treating me like Ryan Sullivan, and not some little kid- I’m not telling you shit. I can’t trust you. You get all fucking emotional, and it messes with my head- and it’s not helping stuff.”

I would take this secret to the grave. Eve and Greg would never look at me the same way if they knew. If I managed to turn back, I would never live down the moment I had looked in the mirror and saw a pretty little girl. A little girl that wasn’t Kaylee or Riley. She wasn’t a made up character for a kid’s show or a construct to maintain a series of elaborate lies- no, the little girl was me.

Apparently, I had to avoid mirrors while wearing pretty dresses. Even after the realization struck me like a sledgehammer to the face, that such a thought even existed in my mind, I couldn’t remove it from my vocabulary.

Eve’s hair was pretty.

Were little girls really this one dimensional? Was I destined to become not only a little girl, but one who was a walking talking stereotype? Ironically, I would likely grow up to become Ryan Sullivan’s ideal woman, at least in body. The hottest girls often times have the most mental baggage, and I would have that in spades.

Eve grunted in an unattractive manner but said nothing more. I knew the look on her face. She was right, and she was waiting for me to announce it to the world. However, I wasn’t Greg. I wasn’t going to roll over like a neutered dog. My mind drifted to Duke. He was never the same after his operation. I knew it was my mom’s idea to get the dog fixed. It had to be. She hated how he used to sometimes hump the legs of her friends. He was a fucking dog though. It’s what they do.

It was easy to place everything on my mom, but I just never understood what my dad saw in her. Beyond the fact that she was overweight, she wasn’t an outdoorsy type girl. Even during our camping trips, she usually slept in the car, if she came at all.

Eve brought me back to reality with a gruff clearing of her throat. “You look like you are a million miles away. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, “You know I’m not like your boyfriend right? Sometimes shit just sucks and that’s what it is. There’s no analyzing it or dissecting it. I was just thinking about something that pissed me off. I’m fine.” Again, I was treated with an almost grunt as Eve led the way toward Mrs. Feinstein’s apartment.

It was easy enough to find as she lived right underneath us on the main floor of the building. The other clear indicator was a crudely drawn picture taped to the front door. In bright red crayon, above a simple house with a chimney and a smiling sun, were the words “Grannie’s house”.

Eve knocked firmly on the door, while I fought a resurgence of nervousness with the knowledge that Mrs. Feinstein was behind the door.

“Just a moment!”

I heard the sound of metal on wood. As it drew closer, I sighed heavily, took a deep breath and became Riley, plastering a fake smile on my face.

Mrs. Feinstein opened the door with little fanfare. She did not look even remotely surprised to see us and ushered us inside without a word.

Eve said, “I’m sorry Mrs. Feinstein, I’m really afraid we’ve got off on the wrong foot. And it’s ...”

Mrs. Feinstein interrupted, “Two weeks after you moved in, you had a raucous party. I called the superintendent, who informed you that a neighbour had a concern with the level of noise coming from your apartment. Even after you were warned to stop, you continued until 11:30 PM. That was the moment we got off on the wrong foot, Miss ...?”

Eve replied, “Mendes. Eve Mendes. I didn’t actually know you were unhappy with that, but we didn’t break any laws ...”

Mrs. Feinstein did not merely interrupt- her words cut through Eve’s. Her mouth made a pitiful attempt to continue, but her tongue may as well have been removed by the old lady.

Mrs. Feinstein spoke slowly, each word deliberate, “I would have hoped- that with a young child, you would mature- faster than your peers. But from what I’ve seen so far, I am gravely mistaken. If you are here to convince me to reconsider my complaint to social services, it will fall on deaf ears. As for your gathering, you may not realize this, but this planet does not revolve around you or your friends. I was not placed here to bow to your whims to “party”, Miss Mendes. You say you were not breaking any laws- that’s no doubt true, but my granddaughters were staying the night, and Sophia was very frightened with all the yelling going on.”

Eve finally found her tongue, “I’m really sorry about that. I guess the party was a little loud at times. We did ask those people to leave. We had some people we didn’t expect. Someone put a sign in the lobby that invited pretty much the whole building. It took a while to get it under control.” Eve swallowed what was likely a pulsating, baseball-sized lump in her throat, “Anyway, Mrs. Feinstein we’re really just here because Riley has some things to say to you. She feels really bad about what she said. And she wants to say she’s sorry. We brought you a box of chocolate too.”

Mrs. Feinstein said curtly, “Let the child speak for herself.”

I opened my mouth to begin a mostly sincere apology, but like a viper, Mrs. Feinstein’s tongue struck first, “And where were you child, during this gathering?”

I was a consummate liar. As an actor, you have to be. I wasn’t highly educated like Greg, and I hadn’t even gone to college like Eve, but I understood the business of acting. I could hawk something I didn’t believe in- making people believe that the burgers at the Palace were more than just slabs of beef wedged between a bun with some fun ingredients.

For the audience or customers to believe your words, you have to say each one with sincerity- that is how drama or comedy is created and with it the suspension of disbelief. If my acting, like my lying, falters then it all falls apart.

I said smoothly, “I was staying at grandma’s place.”

Mrs. Feinstein scrutinized me the same way a forensic investigator might view a murder scene. Words started to form in my mind the longer she looked at me, words brought on by increasing anxiety. The words lunged toward my tongue with the aim of revealing my deception.

“Oh. Well that was a competent decision.” Mrs. Feinstein had turned her withered face toward Eve again, while I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue. Then, I swallowed my sigh of relief.

Mrs. Feinstein then swivelled her head toward me. “Now child, you have something to say to me?”

I didn’t feel bad for lying to Mrs. Feinstein- I rarely felt anything after a lie, but a part of me wondered if she knew I was lying. Her expression never wavered- she was a disappointed school teacher with furrowed brow and tight lips. I was seen it a million times in school, but something about this woman almost pried the truth from me.

I looked down at my shoes, desperate to free myself from her gaze. “Look up at me as you speak, young lady.” My head shot back up, almost as if the woman held my limbs in check with phantom puppet strings.

I nodded slowly, “I-I wanted to say I’m sorry. For the words I used in front of Emma and Sophia.”

Mrs. Feinstein’s head nodded slowly, and while her disappointment had faded slightly, she still completed the motion sternly. I continued, “And I-I’m glad you were there. Because I was scared without mommy there.”

The old woman’s frown slowly morphed into a gentle smile, “I understand acting out, Riley. You were probably scared that you would get into trouble for breaking your game and the glass. Girls your age sometimes still don’t know how to express themselves appropriately in certain situations. That fear you felt came out in all those vile words.”

Eve said, “Again, I’m really sorry, Mrs. Feinstein. I’m so relieved that you were there for Riley.”

Mrs. Feinstein’s stern expression returned. The way she pursed her lips together made me think of an ant-eater. “That does not solve the real issue at hand. If you lack the funds for a babysitter, I would assume you also lack the funds for after school care. Am I correct in this?”

Eve nodded her head sullenly while Mrs. Feinstein continued, “Given this fact, your student debts and the amount of bedrooms in your apartment, I can see this isn’t an ideal living situation. And frankly, I’m very concerned for Riley’s wellbeing.”

Eve said, “Please, please don’t call social services, Mrs. Feinstein. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen how the cases can go. We’ll find a way to make sure she’s taken care of after school and when she’s sick.” Incredibly, she sounded sincere. She was a better liar than Greg, but she wasn’t exactly me.

Mrs. Feinstein nodded her head, “You clearly understand the gravitas of this situation, Miss Mendes. You can’t leave your daughter alone. Yet you are struck by a paradox, a need to earn a living yet also a responsibility to see that your child is safe. However, I have the solution.”

A tiny grin crept onto the old woman’s thin lips, which gradually transformed into a bright beaming smile. She took on the qualities of every loving, apple pie baking, hug giving grandmother, the thick veneer of austerity smoothed by one gentle slap of her knee, “After school, I’ll watch Riley. I’ll see to it that her homework is done and that she doesn’t spend the time in front of the television. Oh and of course my granddaughters will be there every Monday.”

My own grandmother (on my mom’s side) seemed like a very nice person, but I rarely saw her outside of Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. I never got to know her. She was always closer to my cousins, who didn’t have to move almost every year.

I looked to Eve in shocked silence. As nice as she appeared at times, Mrs. Feinstein could be absolute steel. Plus, she still kind of looked like a witch…

Mrs. Feinstein said, “You don’t need to decide immediately. And I understand, you may have some trepidation, but as I explained, I was an educator for many years.”

She added knowingly, “And I’m willing to do it free of charge. I admire that you were able to complete your education despite your teenage pregnancy. And with you just starting out, I can see you are having difficulty and this has led to some…questionable choices. You clearly love your daughter, but you cannot continue to leave her at home alone.” The sternness returned to her voice. It wasn’t cold, but more like a teaching tone. Or lecturing.

“Speak with your husband about it.” Mrs. Feinstein’s expression softened as she turned toward me with that same grandmotherly smile, “Are those for me?”

I nodded dumbly and the woman took the wrapped box of chocolates from my hand. “Thank you, Riley. I hope to see you soon.” Eve took my hand and pulled me from the apartment.

***

“You know if you got more exercise maybe your pants would fit better. You seriously take the elevator for one fucking flight of stairs?” We stepped out of the elevator onto the second floor.

Eve said nothing. Usually, I would see a measure of hurt on her face as she came to the realization that I was right. It had been so easy to push her buttons in the past, but something had changed in her- unless, it was something that changed in me?

Once we were inside the apartment, Eve said calmly, “I know you are mad at me, Ryan. You have no idea how easy you are to read. You always go right to my weight when you are pissed at me. This is the only choice we have.”

Before waiting for me to respond, she added calmly but firmly, “Unless you want me to sign you up for the after school program at the hospital. It’s free for hospital employees. They even put on these little plays sometimes. All the kids look so cute.” A tiny victorious smile formed. I’d seen the expression before plenty of times, but aimed toward me, it was a rare- Greg on the other hand… He probably saw it once a day.

Words formed in my mind, but instead of the complex process of filtering, being cautious of showing weakness, I blurted out, “But she’s a witch!”

The miniscule smile disappeared from Eve’s face replaced by immediate concern. “What?”

I looked at Eve, my eyes bugging out and my jaw dropped, “I-I meant you know, she’ll make me act like a girl, and I’ll have to wear a dress every time I go up there. And her fucking grandkids will be there sometimes. That’s dangerous.” I put a strange emphasis on the word ‘dangerous’, my pronunciation of the word turned it into an unintended question.

Eve said calmly, “It is. I’m not going to deny that, but I don’t see another way around it. If she calls social services, and we don’t take her up on her offer then I look like a terrible parent. Worse than I am now.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice- something that shouldn’t have existed. Her entire posture altered, with suddenly sagging shoulders as a deep sigh burst from her body. It screamed failure.

I shook my head, “What the fuck, Eve? What’s your goddamn problem? You’re not the one who has to spend every afternoon with a fucking fossil. And her granddaughters- if I have to spend hours with them- well it’s going to fucking suck. Plus, Emma is really bossy.”

Eve turned away from me momentarily. When she turned back, she was calm again, “It’s not all bad. You remember when I said I gave that data you brought back from the lab to the hospital’s research department? Well they got the green light to put the theory into practice. From what I’ve heard, they are also sharing the data with universities that specialize in gene therapy. ”

“Sure, and while all that’s happening I’m stuck in a room with someone who probably doesn’t even own a fucking TV. And homework? I don’t even go to school, Eve. How the fuck is that going to work?”

Eve replied, “It’s pretty easy. We just look up some math and spelling exercises for your age group, and you bring the worksheets with you. As for the little girls, when they are around you, just focus on how there’s some brilliant people working on a cure for your condition. Remember that and you’ll get through it.

“And please try and get along with Mrs. Feinstein.”

***

I watched as Greg unwrapped a bouquet of roses. He set them gently on the kitchen table. I was watching TV, languishing on the couch with a bowl of popcorn resting on my belly. I had changed my clothes, not wanting to spend another minute in the dress. The offending object was tossed into the deep depths of the bedroom closet, hopefully never to be seen again. Although I figured, Mrs. Feinstein would want me to wear one when I went to her place…but I would deal with that when the time came. For now, it was easier just to bury the dress under a pile of coats.

I smirked, “What the fuck, man, you looking to get laid tonight, or did you piss her off or something?”

Greg replied, “She’s had a tough day. And from what I’ve heard so have you. You want some flowers too?”

I looked at Greg in surprise, my eyes wide and unblinking. I quickly snapped out of it, “Fuck you. At least I’m not a pussy sucking up to a girlfriend who will never suck him.”

Greg said, “And you’re just a little shit pushing away the only two people that want to help you. Eve was really worried about you today.”

I scoffed, while popping a handful of popcorn into my mouth, “The only thing she cares about is fucking mothering me. It’s sick, man. She treats me like a kid. And when did you actually grow a pair?” It was true. Greg rarely stood up to me. He was easily cowed with a few words usually. Yet, something was changing in our relationship. I desperately needed to regain the ground I had lost.

“Since I realized that Eve is just trying to help you, and you are treating her like shit.” Greg’s voice was surprisingly firm, and considering he towered over me, I was momentarily intimidated. My stomach jumped, the pit suddenly entering my throat as if I was in a high-speed elevator or a rollercoaster in the midst of an impossibly steep descent.

Was I actually scared of Greg? Even if it was only for a second, it was one second too long. Greg couldn’t occupy a higher position than me. It would throw off the whole dynamic of our relationship. It would mean that Eve would get her way in every argument. I’d be going to bed at 8 o’clock and sitting in a car seat within a week.

I spoke, but there was hesitation in my voice- a strange wavering had infected my speech, “I’m trying to get along with her, but she is acting really fucking weird. I have to push her away- because she’s trying to be my fucking mother. We need boundaries, man. This isn’t going to work if she starts treating me like her daughter.”

Greg sighed lightly, “I’m not saying that how you are treating her is right. But I kind of understand what you mean. The frustration in her voice it’s- it’s not the same as it was when you first moved in. There’s this sense of failure. Before, she really didn’t care what happened to you. I mean she didn’t want you dead or anything, but now- I agree. I don’t know how to talk to her about it without pissing her off.”

“Keep in mind too. Eve’s mom expects a lot from her and her sister. Eve’s mom is really critical of how her sister parents and I just think ...”

I shook my head furiously, “But she’s not my fucking mother.”

Greg nodded, “I know. I don’t understand what changed exactly. Just try to be a bit more understanding. She does legitimately want to help you.”

I huffed, “Yeah OK. I’ll be understanding of a person who wants me to be her perfectly behaved daughter. Your girlfriend is going fucking crazy. That’s the only explanation.”

I bit down hard on a kernel, feeling a slight tinge of pain in my tooth. The wiggle had been there for a few days, but I had done my best to ignore it. Now, however, it was impossible to ignore the drinking straw-sized hole where there was once a tooth.

Thankfully, it was one of the bottom teeth. I feared that I would lose the second middle-top tooth, creating a lisp that would infuriate me while delighting adults who would fawn over the gaps, gushing about how adorable I sounded.

I spit the tooth out, and it clinked against the side of the metallic popcorn bowl. Greg frowned slightly, but said nothing.

“I’ll try and be nicer to her, but if she starts wanting to braid my hair and sing me lullabies, we have her fucking committed, OK?”

Greg nodded, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

***

The next day, I reported to Mrs. Feinstein’s after ‘school’. Armed with a handful of age-appropriate math and spelling worksheets, I knocked gently on her door. I figured that Mrs. Feinstein was so old that she probably wouldn’t hear. It would buy me a few seconds reprieve from the torture that was an afternoon with someone born before cable television even existed.

Eve insisted that I wear the same dress I had worn the day before. She said some bullshit about Mrs. Feinstein being from a generation that expected adults and even children to dress formally. It was bullshit because I knew that Eve liked seeing me in the dress. And she wasn’t laughing, no- there was pride in her eyes. The kind of pride you see in the terrifying eyes of pageant and stage mothers- a breed I had seen many times during my amateur and professional acting career.

If this continued, we were going to have to have an intervention.

Despite my feeble knocking, I heard the familiar sound of metal on wood or parquet rather. When the door opened, I couldn’t hide my surprise.

Mrs. Feinstein wore a wry smile, “Young lady, do you think you are the first student of mine to dilly-dally outside of the classroom?”

My mouth, which was opened wide in surprise, moved to speak, but Mrs. Feinstein got in another word akin to a boxer striking an already dazed opponent. “Come in, come in, Riley. Make yourself at home. I understand that your father will be here to pick you up at six. Until then, you can sit and complete your homework. After that you can choose a book to read. I’ve got many picture books that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

Mrs. Feinstein led me to a small table with two chairs. It looked like a typical kids colouring table. The surface was covered in little scribbles of various colours, and there were different compartments holding crayons and markers.

Now that I was in the apartment proper, I took a moment to look around. There were little doilies on the coffee table. Paintings of women and men in suits and dresses having a picnic or travelling along really old looking brick roads in carriages. For a former teacher, I wasn’t surprised to see three bookshelves, completely stocked with reading material. Magazines, children’s books, novels and incredibly, one of the largest collection of mystery novels I had ever seen. I stared at the bookshelf in near awe.

“After your homework, Riley.” The voice was firm, but there was a hint of joy.

I hadn’t done much reading since my change. Movies and video games are easy escapes because of the immersion they provide. I can get lost in a game or a movie plot, and my viewing often allows me to turn off my brain. With reading on the other hand, it is more difficult to keep my mind from wandering, from settling on the realities of my situation.

I set down to work, while Mrs. Feinstein read some ancient-looking coverless book. My handwriting was still slow enough that it seemed as if I was actually doing homework like a normal six-year old. The worksheets being simple subtraction and addition with some incredibly easy vocabulary I still blew through them quickly.

“All done?” There was a measure of surprise in her voice. She immediately cleared her throat, obviously trying to cover up her mistake, but the damage was done- she thought that I was stupid.

Her voice was uncertain, as if she were carefully making her way through a minefield, each word was a step around possible destruction- or in my case an explosive tantrum. “I-I apologize for that. I didn’t mean that-“

I said, “I’m stupid?”

There was baggage attached to my words as memories of the international prep school filled my mind. Greg and Eve were better educated than me, and in fact, so were half the actors I met. A lot of them went to school first as a back-up plan.

“Child, I’m sorry. I absolutely did not mean anything by my words.” She hobbled toward the table and leaned down to inspect the worksheets, “I can see you are a very bright girl. But then I knew that already- I just…expected more of a battle with you. Especially the way you dawdled by my front door. I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, believe that you are stupid.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah. Whatever. Look, I’m only here because my parents are making me.”

Mrs. Feinstein’s firmness returned with a gentle tap of her cane, “You are here because this is what is best for you. This is the safest option, considering what happened to you yesterday. How are you? Are you in any pain as a result of yesterday’s incident?”

I shook my head slowly, “Eee- mom checked on it before she went to work today. She said it’s healing, and there’s no glass in the wound.” I reached down and pulled at the stockings on my legs. They were incredibly annoying how they always bunched up. The dress, however, was the most irritating, since chairs made the poofy skirt rise up, forcing me to push the material down so it wouldn’t impede my writing. While it was impossible for me to call the dress ugly, I still felt incredibly uncomfortable wearing it.

I had a fear that I would suddenly be laughed at, called a pussy or a fag. However, this was mixed with a genuine concern that I would actually come to like dressing this way. To me, it was a battle in the war against the serum. The apprehension usually dissipated when I came to the realization that I really kind of hated wearing dresses, even if they were pretty.

I might as well have been wearing razorblades covered in barbed wire…although maybe that was a slight exaggeration.

“You hate wearing dresses, don’t you, Riley? Your mother made you wear it, didn’t she?”

I blinked, was this woman a mind reader? I replied, sounding clearly surprised, “H-How did you know that? And yeah, she figured cause you are- well you taught at that school you’d want me to dress this way.” I wasn’t about to say it was because she was old, which is how Eve had explained it to me. I wasn’t that stupid.

Mrs. Feinstein laughed gently. It wasn’t exactly musical, but it wasn’t the cackle that I expected either. “I taught at a finishing school, which instilled in young ladies the importance of proper manners, etiquette and decorum based on various situations. However, I was also a strong proponent of education rights for girls. I was instrumental in shifting the focus from a finishing school to a proper learning institution. While it was a finishing school, I made certain that the young ladies who attended received instruction in world, state and national history, arithmetic, and vocabulary.”

“In that time, I met many young ladies like yourself who did not enjoy wearing the standard Prescott uniform. I sympathized with them, and I could see that it impacted their studies and their enjoyment of the school. The dress code was eventually changed, but only shortly before my retirement. So, when I see you with such distaste, being forced to wear something that may impact your studies, I think back to those girls I met in a similar position.”

“So, Riley, do not wear a dress thinking that it will please me. It will not, and the fact that you are forced into it- well I might have to have a chat with your mother.”

Like a grim, grey sky suddenly pierced by the sun’s light, the dour expression I wore upon entry into the apartment was gone. I felt a wide smile grow on my face. “Really? That’s kind of- sick.”

Mrs. Feinstein raised a brow, “I beg your pardon?”

“Um- nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

The old woman nodded and looked down at my worksheets, “A perfect 100%. Very impressive, Riley.”

A warm feeling shot through my body, leaving pleasant pin pricks in its wake. By the time, the sensation reached my brain, a smile had formed. It wasn’t like the wide grin from moments ago, but a gentle, proud smile. Shit. Was I really happy to get praise for simple math and spelling three letter words? Despite this realization, the sensation did not dissipate easily. In fact, it grew when I looked up at Mrs. Feinstein.

The old woman wore a tender smile, and coupled with her previous words, the pride swelled within me to a point where my chest felt close to bursting. Amazingly, I hadn’t been this happy, nor this fulfilled since my change. In fact, I don’t think I was even that proud when I made Monique scream two times in one night.

I had spelled sat, hat, cat, and mat, but I felt like Megan Fox and Kate Upton had just agreed to a threesome with me.

“Although your penmanship could use some work, Riley. I should have you practice your letters, but since you did such a terrific job on your worksheets, I think a little reward is in order. Would you like to go to the splash park? My granddaughters love going there. Your mother gave me a key, so we could fetch your swimsuit if you like.”

Like a gunshot, the word ‘fun’ was blasted into my brain. For five seconds, I was incapable of any other thoughts, my mind rapidly filling with images of the splash park. Wearing a swimsuit I didn’t own, I frolicked in the sprinklers, screamed in joy and surprise as a massive bucket of water drenched me from head to toe. There were other children around me, but I didn’t see the danger they posed to my adult self.

I saw only playmates.

“No, I don’t really feel like it. I think I just want to stay in and read.”

Mrs. Feinstein’s wizened face showed surprise, but instead of forcing the issue, her face settled into what was becoming a familiar smile. “Maybe we’ll go when my granddaughters come next week.” She pointed her cane toward the bookshelves, “The children’s books are on the bottom shelves.”

I wasn’t sure if there was a certain danger in reading books meant for children. Movies like Frozen left an indelible mark on my brain, bringing about a desire to devour as much Frozen-themed paraphernalia as possible. Were the books harmless, simply words on a page, or would they stoke my suddenly furtive imagination? I flipped through a couple, noticing that most of them weren’t even chapter books. They also had an abundance of brightly coloured pictures.

As I was flipping through the titles, a sense of childlike wonder descended on me. It was exactly the same feeling I had when Mrs. Feinstein suggested the splash park, but it was more subtle. Rather than a shotgun blast, it was a gentle, pleasant buzzing, a soft voice whispering ‘fun’.

Concerned that being exposed to the children’s reading material would negatively affect me, I looked instead to the vast selection of mystery books.

“I’m not sure your parents would approve of you reading the novels in that section. There’s a fair bit of violence and subjects that aren’t really suitable for children. It’s wonderful that you want to challenge yourself, but we can find something a bit more appropriate.”

I said firmly, “I know what all that stuff is. I know what killing is, and I’m used to blood and guts because of my dad’s games. Those books you pointed out are for little kids. I want to read something else. And I’m not talking about Nancy Drew.”

Mrs. Feinstein wore a wry grin as she spoke, “You remind me of when I was a girl. My father used to read Sherlock Holmes books in the evening, and I would beg him to let me sit on his lap and read aloud. He eventually agreed, bless his heart. Our first book together was Hound of the Baskervilles. I had nightmares about the hound, but even that wouldn’t stop me. I would close my eyes sometimes as he read, but it was so exciting. I loved those times.”

She winked, “Maybe we can read just a little. But you tell me if it gets too scary.”

While I enjoyed mafia and gangster novels, I was a huge fan of mysteries in general. When my mom took away my video games (which was often enough), I would read my dad’s old Hardy Boys books. So, when Mrs. Feinstein began reading the Hound of Baskervilles, she had a captive audience.

After the first chapter, Mrs. Feinstein asked, “Would you like to read a little too, Riley?” I nodded and slowly read the first few sentences. I figured if I read slowly it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.

Mrs. Feinstein exclaimed, “Incredible! Riley, those were some very difficult words. Do your parents read to you at night? I must say, you are a very advanced reader. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to look at picture books.”

I quickly realized my mistake. A six-year old wouldn’t know how to pronounce half of the words I had read. I couldn’t exactly tell Mrs. Feinstein the truth however. “Yeah. Since I was a baby. I guess reading has always been kind of easy for me.”

Mrs. Feinstein asked excitedly, “Have you ever been tested? You could be gifted, Riley. If that’s the case, you could probably switch schools. Would you like to go to Prescott Academy? Emma and Sophia go there.”

I shrugged, “I-I like my school.”

Mrs. Feinstein replied, while a strange energy filled her body. Her stooped posture straightened, and her eyes brightened considerably. She suddenly looked ten years younger, “I wonder if some of your behaviour and the acting out, if it’s because you aren’t being challenged. Prescott Academy has a gifted program recognized the world over. Do you act out in school too?”

I said, “Sometimes. I guess you can talk to my mom about it.”

Mrs. Feinstein nodded, “I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want, Riley. So yes, I think it best at this point to speak to your parents about it. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I will write a glowing recommendation for you. On reading level alone, you shouldn’t be in the 1st grade.”

Again, it wasn’t something I should have been proud of, considering I had a high school diploma, but a great sense of satisfaction filled my being. My body felt lighter than air as pride swelled within my chest. As this happened, coupled with how she had treated me earlier, I began to see Mrs. Feinstein in a different light.

It was a light that no longer cast shadows and one that debunked the mystery of the witch in apartment 106. There was no wickedness in her features, the hooked nose and prominent chin were gone. She was human, but more importantly, she wasn’t actually that bad. Other than when her granddaughters were visiting, the afternoons with her apparently weren’t going to be torture.

Expecting to continue reading, I was surprised to see Mrs. Feinstein turn away from me. When she turned back, she focused on the novel, licking her finger and quickly turning the page. A deep sigh escaped from her, and she read aloud, adding great emotion and power to the words.

It was easy to imagine the moors, a massive moon casting light on the swampy terrain, while fog swirled, forced to dance by the wind like a mass of apparitions. I was fully engaged in the mystery of the hound, thankful that I hadn’t felt even a tinge of fear. After all, it was a kiddie party compared to most of the movies I watched.

Time moved, but it didn’t pass in seconds or minutes. Instead, it passed in words, paragraphs and chapters. I closely followed the mystery, trying my best to determine who-done-it. Mrs. Feinstein, being a former teacher, had a crisp and very clear voice. She actually play acted the characters, changing her voice to suit each one. However, I noticed her brow furrow at certain points during the story. Her mouth drooped gently, and she would at times, fidget with the pages.

Was she having trouble seeing? She already wore extremely thick glasses. They were attached to a shiny silver chain that draped behind her neck. I wasn’t about to ask her if she going blind, so I left it at that.

Eventually, Greg picked me up, and I was surprised when I didn’t immediately want to leave.

Mrs. Feinstein smiled, “We’ll continue the book tomorrow, dear.”

She added, “Oh, and if you could please take a look in your apartment, Emma has lost her favourite doll. She may have left at your place yesterday.” I nodded.

Greg gathered my backpack and worksheets, thanked Mrs. Feinstein and then led me out the door toward the elevator. Once we were in the elevator, he spoke, “So I didn’t see any blood stains. Everyone still has all their limbs. I guess it wasn’t too bad?”

I nodded slowly, a little smile forming, “Yeah. It was alright.”

***

It was morning the next day. I woke to the sound of the DVD menu for Godfather Part 1. The movie was long, but normally I could stay up for the whole thing. The wedding scene was the last scene I saw before falling asleep. That was…less than halfway through the movie.

I rolled off my couch-bed, which ironically was the exact same couch where I passed out after an incredible night of partying. Greg was still sleeping, and Eve was working an overnight shift, so it was going to be toast instead of eggs. I was still extremely lazy when it came to cooking, so toast with peanut butter was the best option. Either that or cereal, but Eve bought nasty corn flakes without any sugar.

It was odd to actually eat a breakfast that consisted of something other than black coffee, but I hated the taste of it now. A week ago, I had even convinced Greg to buy me a flavoured coffee, but even the caramel couldn’t cover up the awful bitter tasting mud. I desperately wanted something sweet for breakfast, but Eve was on a diet kick and trying to explain to Greg why I wanted sugared cereal would be difficult.

It was all thanks to a commercial I had seen recently, where a cartoon elephant falls into a bowl of Pinkie Puffs, finding he has turned pink. And for some reason, I desperately wanted it. I had to have it. Why? Well, there was a Frozen mix and match cut-out puzzle on the back of the box. Plus, I wanted to see the milk turn pink. That seemed fun.

I shook my head repeatedly, trying to pry the memory of the commercial from my brain.

“I should just stick to Netflix. There’s no commercials on there.” And once again, I was talking to myself. I thought about the fact that Dr. Travers’ research was now in the hands of people who would probably be willing to help. With this fact, I was able to slowly halt the craving for the cereal.

I returned to the couch with my breakfast, intending to boot up the Xbox, so I could watch something bloody and especially gory on Netflix. In the process, however, I stepped on something, which caused me to emit a sudden high-pitched yelp. I peered down to locate the offending object and saw an outstretched plastic hand.

I hadn’t looked for the doll, but apparently, it wanted to be found. Thinking nothing of it, I pulled the doll from under the couch and set it on the coffee table. Fear gripped me, as I realized just what it was. It wasn’t just a generic Barbie doll. No, it was Emma’s Elsa doll with ice skates.

And, I really, really wanted to play with it.

Fuck. Why did I have to step on that exact spot? Why couldn’t Greg or Eve have found it? I looked about frantically, trying to determine what to do. I picked up the doll, intending to toss it in the garbage. I couldn’t risk playing with the doll for an extended period of time. I definitely couldn’t go to Greg and ask him to get rid of the doll for me. He would think I was a massive pussy.

I never got to the garbage. Breakfast completely forgotten, I looked at the doll in fascination. Elsa wore the dress she created with her magic, while her hair was free flowing, tumbling down her back in loose gorgeous curls. The dress, like the one I wore yesterday, sparkled in the morning sun. On her feet, she wore a pair of old-fashioned skates. I didn’t know much about hockey, but they definitely didn’t look like hockey skates. They were pale blue with an intricate flower design by the blade, and that made them girly as shit.

I remember Ashley playing with the exact same doll in the studio. She said she was going to share it with me, but she never did, and I was stuck with a dumb figure-skating Anna. However, now- now it was my turn.

I could even keep it. If Emma’s parents could afford to send her to a private school, they could afford to buy her a new doll. Of course, I’d have to hide it from Greg and Eve- they’d make me give it back. My mind did not flow in a logical direction, instead zigzagging to the different results, all of which ended with me keeping the doll.

I looked at the plastic doll, which was the size of a typical Barbie, and my imagination, like an unsuspecting grocery bag caught in a strong gust, suddenly soared. Like the studio, when I played with Ashley, when time stood still, and we only stopped for lunch, my adult self was buried under a mountain of childlike delight- which probably amounted to Ryan Sullivan laying under a massive pile of chocolate chip cookies. The desire to play had an innocence attached to it, as such, it was almost impossible to see fault or the danger in my actions.

The alarm bells still rung, but they were overcome by the power of my imagination and the deep desire to play with something that had been previously denied.

I took the doll to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. I set the doll on the floor and carefully pushed it forward, watching with glee as it slid across the floor without falling. Because of the way it was designed, it actually looked like Elsa was skating across the floor. I had fun with this for a few minutes, but I thought Elsa might be lonely, so without another doll to play with, I took an empty toilet paper roll from the garbage.

My imagination at this point had fully taken over, placing my mind within the fairy tale kingdom with ice queens, endless winters and most importantly, talking snowmen. The pen that Eve used for her Sudoku puzzles drew a careful, yet still somewhat crooked mouth on the roll. The same pen was used to draw crooked circles for eyes. Pleased with my creation, I smiled broadly, setting toilet paper roll Olaf at the edge of the bathtub. He could now watch Elsa as she skated.

Now that there were two characters, however, they would obviously need to speak. I hesitated for a moment, realizing that my quiet play would soon have a voice, but I bubbled with excitement, actually holding my hands together and pressing them firmly to my chest. My breakfast lay, as always, uneaten on the coffee table.

Elsa, Queen of Arendelle said happily, “Olaf, watch me skate!”

Olaf, magic-talking snowman said, “Sure, Elsa! I love to watch you skate! It’s so fun!”

Gone was the bathroom, replaced with a private ice skating rink positioned on top of a mountain. The ice stretched for miles, the surface glistening under soft moonlight. Olaf cheered excitedly as Elsa skated across the ice, pushed by some unseen force.

My enjoyment of the little scene reached a fevered pitch and seconds later I couldn’t control myself as my arms began flapping. A giggle burst forth, a tittering musical sound akin to tiny jingling bells. It was a sound that Ryan Sullivan had never made.

I was so engrossed in my play, I didn’t hear the door open, but I did hear the footsteps a second later.

It was Greg.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 17

The door closed and the footsteps rapidly retreated. I was left holding a plastic doll, and while my humiliation in Greg’s presence was staggering to both my male ego and my adult self, I couldn’t help but want to continue playing. It was like some drug filling my mind and body with such a real sense of happiness that it was easy to ignore the fact that such actions were eating away at Ryan Sullivan. The toys, the sense of adventure, the world of imagination that Hermie spoke of were the vultures circling over the soon-to-be corpse.

But it was rainbows, cotton candy, pretty dresses, and a life where finding someone to play with would be my greatest worry. I knew that children worried about more important stuff. Some of them even faced crippling anxiety. A friend of mine, the same one with all the incredible video games, was a wreck every time his dad went on a tour of duty. I knew better, but the drug swimming in my system was smiles and sunshine.

I desperately needed help.

Asking Greg meant admitting a weakness, it meant saying I couldn’t do it by myself. It was the fucking pussy way out, but at the periphery of my mind lay the memory of the joy, the delight when I gave into my imagination- the wonderful world of pretend.

I was used to taking care of myself. It had been that way since coming to Hollywood, and in fact, it had been that way since my mom stopped trying to rein me in. I made friends easily, but lost them as quickly whenever things turned sour. Now I was faced with a situation where I had to ask Greg for something more than just a ride or a few bucks to pay my phone bill- no, I had to ask him to pry the doll out of my hands and throw it away.

There was a quiet knock on the door. It brought me back to my teenage years when my mom caught me masturbating for the first time. The look of horror on her face was priceless. I suppose seeing your baby boy beating off is something no mother wants to see, but to me, it was kind of funny. It was even funnier when that quiet knock came, and she proceeded to explain to me how sex worked as if I was seven years old.

It was the same talk my dad had given me at twelve except with graphic details. I laughed my mom out of my room. There was no humour in this moment however.

Another quiet knock on the door followed by a voice riddled with confusion, “Uh. Hey- man if you want to talk.” It actually wasn’t mere confusion, it was a stunned voice, one that had seen the unbelievable happen.

I shot back, “What the fuck are we going to talk about? This fucking piece of plastic I’m holding?”

I hated how emotional I sounded as I swallowed a lump and fought back tears, but it was hard to deny how strangled my voice sounded. How I was choking out the words. I wanted to sound assured, tough but instead, it was clear as fucking day that I was scared.

Greg cleared his throat, “The 64’ Mustang is overrated. You’ve told me this bullshit before about it being the best classic car to own since the parts are so available. Well that’s great, but the bodies are so prone to rust, most of them aren’t even drivable. Camaros keep way better. They may not drive as well, but at least they can be driven.”

I glared at Greg, “I know what you are trying to do. I told you that I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need your help.”

Greg didn’t budge. “OK. I’ll leave, Ryan, but only after you give me the doll. That’s the one Mrs. Feinstein was talking about, right?”

My eyes immediately grew wide, and I clutched the little doll to my chest. It would have taken the Jaws of Life to remove it. As I realized the extent of my actions however, I began to slowly shake. My heart thundered in my chest, and my breath grew short.

Greg shook his head, “This is just like your hair. You need to accept that the serum has seriously fucked you up and that you need help. You- you look like Jessica’s niece when Jessica told her it was time to leave the ice cream place.”

I sniffed lightly, feeling tears pool at my eyes. I couldn’t believe how mean Greg was being.

“Dude, you were playing with a doll and a toilet paper roll. I think you’ve kind of reached a point of no return. Just accept our help. You’ve gotten this far without totally giving up, and I give you fucking respect for that, man, but you’ve gotta drop the macho bullshit and realize that the serum is winning. What if I hadn’t been home? What then?

“You’d be done, man. I would get home and…I’d find Kaylee or Riley. All because you keep up this act, like you’re bulletproof. You won’t tell us what’s wrong, and it’s obvious that something is. You aren’t a running back with a pulled hammy playing through the pain. You’ve been stuck with a needle, Ryan. It’s fucked with your head and changed your age and gender. This isn’t something you can just run away from. Something you can ignore.”

I screeched, “Fine! Fuck sake, you’re as bad as your goddamn girlfriend. So what do you want me to say? That I’m scared? That I can’t let go of this fucking thing? That I want you to leave and let me play with it…”

I fiercely wiped away the tears from my eyes, but I wasn’t crying. I couldn’t cry in front of Greg.

He said softly, “Tell us how we can help you.”

I said, “Well you can stop with that fucking tone right there. That’s like- it’s how I’ve heard you talk to kids at the Palace. I need to feel like I can trust you guys, but you’re both acting really fucking weird. I feel like you are trying to be my parents sometimes.”

Greg nodded, “You’ve mentioned that before. I’m just trying to help, man. I’m not going to start calling you princess or pumpkin.”

I knew he was trying to be funny, but Greg’s sense of humour sucked. His problem- he thinks he is hilarious, when in actuality, he isn’t. Eve laughs at his jokes, but she has a worse sense of humour than him.

I nodded, “If you did, you wouldn’t wake up tomorrow.”

Greg said, “Seriously though, man- what’s bugging you? I mean besides the obvious.”

“Well it’s fucking annoying that I have to be around Emma and Sophia even once a week. It’s also really dangerous for me to be around kids at all. Eve admitted that, but she didn’t seem to care. She just said it was my fault for making so much noise and bringing Feinstein upstairs.”

Greg frowned gently, “Uh huh. That’s not exactly how I was told it happened. But…never mind about that. I don’t think the intent was ever to have you go there on Tuesdays.”

“Mondays. Emma and Sophia are there on Monday. And sometimes Wednesdays.”

Greg nodded, “Yeah. Sorry. I meant that either me or Eve would take it off. And if they were there on a day other than Monday, you could like text us or something. And we’d come and get you.”

I shook my head, feeling my grip on the doll tighten as the feeling of anger and confusion set in, “Eve never- she never mentioned that to me. I thought you guys were going…to make me go on Mondays.” My throat felt raw. It was the uncomfortable sensation, the sense that something is crawling up your throat- it was the emotions that must be swallowed.

Once again, Greg’s voice softened, but this time, instead of rage, I felt a strange sense of relief- and a bizarre closeness to Greg. “No. We wouldn’t make you go. And we would come get you as soon as possible if they came on a different day. Sorry, I mean me and Eve talked about it. I thought you’d realize that we’d have your back on this.”

“But you never told m-e!” The final word had a whiny emphasis placed on it. I was beyond the point of shock now however. After all, I was still holding the Elsa doll firmly to my chest.

Greg, however, couldn’t hide his continued shock, “I-I’m sorry. Yeah we meant to tell you. We definitely talked about it.”

I said, “And that’s the other thing. I don’t like you guys talking about me behind my back. You go in your room, and Eve starts raising her voice. I know you are talking about me. It fucking pisses me off. Is she trying to get you onboard with that car seat bullshit again?”

Greg looked down at his feet. This action might have seemed innocent, but he was avoiding my gaze. The man was a terrible liar. “I-I- Uh. Yeah. She thinks it’s safer, especially since we don’t know if Mrs. Feinstein called child services. Look, man- I’m not with her on this. We shouldn’t be putting you in situations where you feel like or are treated like a kid. I mean, I can’t guess, but it would be really humiliating for you.”

I nodded, “Goddamn right. It would really fuck with my head. It would make me feel like a kid for sure.”

Greg replied, “Would it help if we did something that makes you feel more like Ryan?”

A little smirk appeared on my face, and my grip on the doll loosened just a little. “Like what?”

Greg nodded with a smile, “You know that place you liked going to? Not El Casa- there was another place. You said once if the food was better, it would be your favourite place.”

I nodded with a grin, “Apple Jacks. Yeah. It’s full of women trying to get discovered. It is right next to a bunch of movie sets. Fuck the women in there are hot. I mean fake tits on these skinny bodies and all of them trying. You know what I mean, right? Not like Eve on a lazy morning trying, but like seriously perfect.”

I pictured the women working in the place, short skirts, cleavage baring tops, amazingly tight asses. And the best part? They were starving actresses, so they would flirt hardcore for tips. Hooters waitresses would touch your arm or place their hand on your shoulder, but these girls would put their hand on your thigh.

There were rumours that it was tied to the mob and that there was a champagne room if you bought the 72 ounce steak, but I’d never seen it. I had slept with a few of the women there, but I never got a whole human trafficking vibe from them. Eve hated when I brought Greg there, but it wasn’t surprising considering how the girls fished for tips.

I looked down at myself and realized very quickly that I never wanted to go to Apple Jacks again. Not until I turned back. My long hair swished in my face. My skinny arms and round face with the missing teeth? The girls would take one look and then fawn all over me. “Oh what a cutie!” Like the waitress at El Casa. And it would be worse because the women at Apple Jacks were incredible.

They were the type of girl where the phrase “I would wreck that chick” came from. The images of the skinny hotties, however, failed to elicit the normal tingle. I wasn’t aroused. It probably wasn’t possible, and honestly, it would have felt extremely weird and wrong if it was, but that pleasant little tingle in my brain was also absent. I wasn’t really surprised considering how down I felt. It was like I had been mentally kicked in the balls. My grip on the doll tightened.

I rolled my eyes, suddenly turning my frustration on Greg, “That’s a fucking stupid idea. You know how servers are at the Palace. It’ll be ten times worse at Apple Jacks.”

Greg looked momentarily deflated, but rapidly perked up. A smile crossed his face, “Malibu. Fucking Malibu, man. It’s perfect. I mean yeah there’ll be some annoying people, but most will just leave you alone. And you can just watch and enjoy the beach.”

It was like Greg was frightened that Eve was behind him, but I knew exactly what he meant. The warm spring weather meant bikini season, sun-kissed bodies, breasts, thighs and asses, and I could watch without any girl giving me a dirty look. I nodded slowly as a big grin formed, “Fuck yeah. Let’s do it.”

He grinned, “And you know what the best part is? It’s spring break. You remember last year?”

A wide grin formed. I knew I probably looked adorable with the gaps in my teeth, but I didn’t care. Spring break was wall-to-wall hotties. “Barely.”

My grip on the doll loosened, and I had stopped shaking.

Greg held out his hand and with trepidation, I slowly released my hold. Seconds later, I deposited the doll in Greg’s waiting hands. I was concerned that I would feel a great sadness, or worse that I would throw a tantrum, but the excitement of the trip to Malibu helped to cushion the blow.

Greg gave me a simple nod and left the bathroom. I glared at the toilet paper roll snowman and tossed it in the garbage.

***

Three days later, I sat next to Eve in the car, wearing a girl’s one-piece swimsuit, looking like I wanted to murder anyone and everyone who laid eyes on me. The three days had passed without incident. Mrs. Feinstein was actually nicer the more I got to know her. I no longer pictured her as a witch ready to grind my bones, using the dust as an ingredient in some fiendish brew. I had to admit that the time we spent together was actually- not bad. In fact, it was better than that, it was great. She had a wicked sense of humour, and she would punctuate each punch line with a slap of her knee.

I learned that she was probably actually a well-liked teacher, despite her stern demeanour, but most of all, I learned that she was a very good teacher. She talked about the origin of the novel and how it started out as a serial in a magazine. She actually didn’t bore me to death the way my original teachers did, which was a massive improvement.

Incredibly, as long as I was paying attention to my ‘school’ work and I was behaving, she never spoke down to me. It made me feel like…well not like a kid. I could almost be myself around her, minus the swearing. I swore in front of her a few times, and she threatened to wash my mouth out with soap. Normally, I would have been angry, but because I had a growing respect for the woman, I actually started to watch my language around her.

True to his word too, when her granddaughters arrived on Thursday for a visit, Greg rushed home from the restaurant to save me, but on Friday, I learned that we wouldn’t be driving out to Malibu the next morning.

“Ryan, you know this is a big opportunity for Greg. If the Burger Palace becomes a chain, Greg could become the manager of a new location. These investor meetings are really important.”

I sneered. She sounded like my mom trying to explain why my dad wouldn’t be at my pee-wee football game. I knew why. He was on a tour of duty. I was mad because I had to go with her. She was so embarrassing in the crowd, trying to get my attention by calling me ‘sweetie’. And I swear that every time I was tackled, I could see her talking to the coach.

I was pissed because I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself. No, Eve would be watching me watching the bikini bodies. It would completely ruin the experience.

“And that suit just makes sense. You’ll blend in better.”

I replied, “I know, but I don’t have to like it.”

Eve said with a hint of amusement, “Try not to look like I’m kidnapping you.” She grew more serious, “I actually think this is a good idea. I mean you can’t exactly go to watch strippers and smoke pot, right? I’m not here to judge you, Ryan. I know that this will probably help you kind of feel like you used to.”

I glared at Eve, clearly insulted, “Strippers? Seriously? They are for married guys who are bored of their fat wives and for guys who can’t get laid. Just so they, you know, get close to a girl, maybe get a nice dance. It’s a tease. You think I needed strippers with girls like Monique?”

Eve grunted lightly, “What about girls like Jessica?”

I said, “She’s different.”

Eve said, “I have to keep making up reasons for her not to come over.”

This is what Eve did. This is in fact what a lot of women did. They don’t tell you what is bothering them and then they get mad when you aren’t a mind reader. It was like a girl I would be seeing for a few weeks, we have some fun, and I don’t call her because I had shit to do- and the next time I’m with her, she’s all cold. She doesn’t actually tell me anything, and when I ask her what’s wrong? She says, “Nothing.” Goddamn was that annoying, and here was Eve doing it to me.

I nodded, “Yeah. Well this is the first time I’ve heard about it. Or was all that huffing around a few days ago about that? Or that bedtime shit you pulled last night? Did you do that because you are pissed you haven’t been able to have Jessica over? I’d say you’ve got a pretty fucking good reason right now.”

Eve shot back, “I’ve told you many times that you should start going to bed earlier. You may not be a real six-year old, but your body actually thinks you are. You need to start getting more sleep. Maybe you wouldn’t be so irritable in the morning if you did. And by irritable, I mean a giant pain in the ass. You’re so whiney every morning, and you’re always tired. It could be making it harder to fight the serum too, because your brain isn’t getting the right amount of rest.”

I replied, “That’s such bullshit. You just want to boss me around and play momma bird, Eve. As for Jessica, well she can come over when I’m not there. Like when I’m at Mrs. Feinstein’s or something. I hope you aren’t thinking that I should tell her.”

Eve grunted lightly. I could almost hear her teeth grinding, “She’s my best friend, and it’s getting harder and harder to lie to her. She broke up with that guy she was seeing by the way. The banker. And she’s been asking about you.”

I shook my head repeatedly, “No fucking way am I telling her what happened to me. It’s bad enough that you and Greg know. And Greg tells you everything. Like why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut about the doll?”

Eve replied, “I’m not saying that you should tell her what happened to you. But some closure would be good for her. I go to her place, but I know she wants to come to the apartment, hoping she’ll meet up with you. I don’t know what it is about you, but that girl is still into you.” Eve said the last phrase with obvious disdain, coupled with sincere puzzlement.

I said, “So you want me to lie to her. And what, am I going to do this through text?”

Eve said firmly, “Do it however you want. Just do it. She’s too nice and smart a girl to be hung up on you.”

She said the last word with such disgust that she might as well have just swallowed a concoction of rotten eggs and moldy broccoli.

Even for Eve, this was harsh. What had caused her to turn on me so quickly? Was she waiting to pounce? “What gives, Eve? Why are you so pissed off at me? Why did you even agree to take me to Malibu if you feel like that?”

Eve said through clenched teeth, “Remember a year ago when I asked you about my friend Rachel. I asked if you guys had been fooling around in the bedroom. And remember how I told you specifically to leave her alone before that? You know because she was just coming off a really bad breakup, and she had a lot of issues to work through. What did you tell me?”

This question was a minefield. It was if I had a loaded gun pointed at my head. Oh, and someone had just tossed a grenade in my general direction. There was no use lying. Eve probably kept a diary of ‘Ryan Sullivan’s screw-ups”.

“That nothing happened. Look, Eve- I thought the point of this is that it’s supposed to be fun? To help? Why are you bringing up all this stuff from the past?”

Eve replied with what could only be called restrained rage, “Because something did happen. And I’ve been trying to keep this to myself when I found out a few days ago because I know you are going through some really difficult stuff right now, but you really fucked her up, Ryan. And to hear you talking about women the way you just did, it makes me think this experience hasn’t taught you anything. Or are you just hiding behind those words because you were caught with a dolly? Trying to be the big man again?”

I said, “You realize you are taking me to a beach to ogle women, right? And I’m sorry that Rachel got messed up because of what happened. It just kind of happened. I really thought she wanted it. You know I never forced myself on any girl. Ever.”

Eve replied, “But I told you to leave her alone. She’d been with three other guys before you, all of them really bad for her. She’s that sort of person who needs a friend to say okay, you’ve had enough to drink. She’s very self-destructive in her behaviour. And I specifically told you to leave her alone, and you lied to me.”

We pulled up into the parking lot. I just wanted this conversation to end, so I could focus on the bounty of perfect bikini bodies. I knew they wouldn’t all be perfect, but this was Malibu, not just any-town-USA. A large percentage of them would be college students on spring break. I fought a grin. It was spring break! Spring Fucking Break. I could have come next week with Greg, but I would miss the wet t-shirt contests, bikini dance-offs and plenty of really drunk sorority girls. For that, maybe I could actually spend an afternoon with Eve without wanting to murder her.

I realized quickly, however, even from the front seat, that the college girls in skimpy bikinis were in short supply.

I said, “What gives? This beach is full of fat moms and old people. Where the hell is the spring break shit? Take me to another beach.”

Eve replied, “Maybe people got fed up with their beach turning into a garbage dump. Maybe they don’t want their kids subjected to drunk people swearing and puking.”

She jumped onto her phone, while I shook my head, “Fuck, Eve. You used to go out to clubs when you were in school. What happened to you? You sound like you are forty-five fucking years old. Shit. I remember one time I had to cut YOU off.”

Eve nodded as she scrolled through a page on her phone, “Yeah. I remember. I still like to party. Hmm, based on what I’m seeing here, almost all the events have been moved to clubs and hotels. People complained last year. A lot of them. It got out of hand with a lot of underage drinking too. There’s no alcohol allowed on the beaches this year at all.”

I rolled my eyes, “I guess people don’t want to see hot drunk girls doing amazing things. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Because we aren’t staying here. I’m sure we can find a different beach, one that’s more open. It can’t be all of them.”

Eve shook her head, her lips curling into the hint of a smile, “Do you really think that it is appropriate to bring a six-year old girl to any kind of spring break event? I mean the Hooters over there is having a wet t-shirt contest, but you’d never even get in the front door, would you? What makes you think any of the other ones will be different?”

I shrieked, “Fuck you, Eve! You can’t…it is fucking spring break. This isn’t fair! Take me to a different beach.”

Eve said calmly but firmly, “No.”

She opened the door and stepped out of the car, obviously expecting me to follow. However, I didn’t budge. Eve walked to my side of the car and opened the door. She removed her phone from her purse. A second later, a flash went off as she pointed it at me.

She turned the phone around. Her face lacked any expression. Once I saw the picture, I was surprised she hadn’t been grinning from ear to ear. There I was, with my arms crossed underneath my chest, my head lowered and my lip extended. The camera didn’t lie. I looked like a pouting little girl.

Eve said flatly, “Are you ready to come out now?” It wasn’t a question. To her it was an inevitability.

I sighed lightly and slid my little feet into a pair of white sandals. Eve didn’t say a word. She simply started walking toward the beach.

My swimsuit was thankfully relatively nondescript. Eve hadn’t chosen one that had frilly arms or pink sea horses or worse- one that had a Disney princess theme. No, the most embarrassing thing about it were the words “BEACH GIRL” emblazoned on the front in bright pink letters. As my gaze fell on many of the little girls on the beach, I quickly realized that it could have been much, much worse.

Eve could have chosen a bikini.

I was actually surprised by how many girls about my age were wearing one. They obviously weren’t wearing thongs (not that they had anything to show off), but still- a lot were wearing two pieces. And unfortunately, so were their fat mothers, and they had plenty to show.

They should have been the ones wearing the one pieces. These non-MILFs had stomach rolls, the flesh hanging over the flimsy material of their bottoms. Their asses sagged in the thongs, most of them pocked with cellulite. It was- just…it was gross. Didn’t they realize their faded and stretched tattoos looked better about thirty pounds ago? Some of them still pathetically had belly rings, which were barely visible, nearly engulfed by belly flab. Some of them were OK, but the others were just completely turning me off.

“Try and look a little more disgusted.”

She didn’t wait for me to reply, “I was hoping that I could talk you out of this. That we could have a mature conversation, and that would maybe get you thinking that you need to grow up, especially since the serum has been getting the better of you lately. I hoped you would see that spending the day ogling girls is kind of a waste of time. But you’re just as shallow as you were before your change.”

I mounted my defence, “I can’t help what I’m attracted to, Eve. It’s just…” I lowered my voice. We were getting strange looks from people. “I hate this. It’s torture. I want to go over there.” I pointed to the long lineup that had formed at the beach next to ours. It was a VIP only spring break event. MTV was probably there, or if I was lucky, Girls Gone Wild. It was harmless, cheap fun.

Eve whispered harshly, “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m bringing you over there. First of all, it’s 21 and over probably. Second of all, you’re a six-year old girl. How would I look if I brought you there? I’d look like an unfit mother. We need to keep a low profile here. What if there are still people looking for you?” There was a hint of concern in her voice.

I trudged through the sand toward a free chair. A massive umbrella offered shade from the surprisingly summer-like weather. “Yeah, fine. But this is dangerous. There’s a lot of kids around. It’s going to be a huge temptation.”

Eve nodded, “I figured. It’s a good opportunity for you to try and control yourself. And don’t worry, if you start to wander toward the kids building sand castles or playing in the water, I’ll stop you.” Despite the palpable anger that Eve felt toward me about Rachel, I didn’t doubt her.

Twenty minutes after we had settled under the umbrella, a strong wind picked up, bringing about a sudden chill that left goose bumps in its wake. The thin, light blonde hair on my arms rose gently in goose bumps. Eve and I moved our chairs into the sun.

I rolled over onto my stomach, wanting to feel the glorious sun on my back. I had missed days like this being trapped in the apartment. I had always loved the outdoors, whether it was camping, hiking, fishing or hunting with my dad, and later on with Hannah. I remembered summer days where I just spent the whole day either in a swimming pool or a lake.

Maybe Eve was right. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. I hadn’t seen anyone worth ogling, but I was more relaxed than I had been in months. The wind caused my long hair to whip at my face, but I didn’t care. I took in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh sea air mingling with sizzling, mouth-watering hot dogs and hamburgers. Incredibly, my state of relaxation allowed me to ignore the laughter of the children playing around me.

I was actually smiling. I closed my eyes and slowly drifted away.

I woke with a start. I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but someone was rubbing my back. Initially I was frightened, especially given my small stature and obvious vulnerability, but once I caught a whiff of vanilla, I knew who it was.

Something cold touched my skin and then soft hands kneaded my shoulders. “Sorry, I noticed your shoulders were getting pretty red.”

The softness had returned to Eve’s voice, and that now familiar tingle, not of arousal, but of intimacy borne of comfort and closeness- and… There was something else, but I wasn’t ready to admit what it was. The tingle spread through my entire body, from my fingertips to my toes. I felt a wonderful electricity.

Despite these feelings, I didn’t pull away. Moments later, I felt hesitation in Eve’s touch, her hands resting limply and then trailing off my back. I desperately wanted them back there because as long as she was close to me, it seemed like everything was going to be OK. She was like a warm blanket, there to hide us from the cold. To remove the fear and embrace us in its folds. She was like-

Alarm bells started ringing as Eve’s hands returned to my back, rubbing in the last of the sun screen. Was Eve as dangerous to both my adult and male self as Emma and Sophia? If we had been the same age, and I was a man, I might have thought she was flirting with me. As the woman had reminded me many times before, she was a nurse, and with that, she had an innate desire to help and to heal. Even if this was the case, I couldn’t ignore what was becoming more than simply pleasant tingles shooting up my spine.

An impossible word was taking shape in my mind. It was a word that would teach me everything I would need to know about being a girl and would comfort me in times of need, vanquishing dancing shadows with a soothing presence. But most of all, it would fill my empty heart.

Was it sad to think that I didn’t love a single person in the world? I loved sex, and I loved the success I had with women, but I hadn’t loved any of them. Not since Hannah, and even then, was I in love with her? This behaviour filled a void that would never be satisfied, like a ravenous beast with a bottomless stomach.

My thoughts turned to my mother, and that was the moment I realized that I had to get Eve to stop treating me this way. The serum or something was turning her into my mother. The looks she gave me, the tenderness she displayed- it wasn’t simply because she wanted to help. My mind flip flopped, finding it difficult to focus. It moved quickly to solutions; a thousand came to mind but none of them focused

Then, salvation walked down the beach in a string bikini. She was the type of woman I would once have pursued, long slim legs and tanned, almost bronze, skin. She would look like hell in a few years, but I would have enjoyed the ride while it lasted. My eyes tracked her as she floated along the beach. A pair of expensive sun glasses covered most of her face, but from what I could see, she was perfect. Almost.

I wrinkled my nose in slight distaste.

Eve’s hands left my back. She snorted derisively, “OK. What the hell was wrong with her?” As much anger as her words could contain, there was hurt and confusion mixed into an extremely bitter brew.

I said matter-of-factly, “Well her left boob was kind of bigger than her right one. She also had this really ugly tattoo of a bird. Her forehead kind of stuck out too. And her nose ...”

Eve roared, “Enough! Y-You have impossible standards. And you’ve got to be the most shallow, insensitive asshole I’ve ever met. She was perfect. She put every single girl on this beach to shame. And- and you find something wrong with her?! You’re never going to learn. There’s no point.” She rose to her feet and grabbed her purse.

This was unexpected. I knew she would be upset, but I had no idea that I was lighting a powder keg with a sea of dynamite underneath. I figured we were leaving, so I started to gather my things. We had a few eyes on us, but most people must have figured Eve was speaking to someone else. Maybe a soon-to-be ex-boyfriend on a Bluetooth? After all, there was no way she was speaking to the little blonde-haired girl.

I started to follow her, but she turned to face me. She lowered herself to one knee and said quietly, “I’m going for a walk, and you aren’t following me.”

I replied, “But you can’t leave me here. What if some kids ask me to play?”

Eve said in a harsh whisper, “You’re a big man. I’m sure you can handle it. Just tell them no.”

My face was full of surprise. I couldn’t believe Eve would leave me here. I had just wanted her to get out of mommy mode, but now, now I was in trouble. There were kids all over the beach. Some of them were busy making sandcastles, while others were using plastic moulds to create sand crabs. The wind carried the sound of laughing children, splashing and diving in the water. I think they were pretending to be frogs. A group of older girls in a circle hit a volleyball to one another.

Out of my relaxed state, my brain was viciously attacked, the shrieks of joy descended on my mind like wolves on a wounded deer. “Eve, come on- you can’t leave me here. You’re better than this.”

Eve turned and left. I watched dumbstruck for a few moments and then started pursuit. A group of girls about my age in pretty bathing suits started walking toward me, so I turned back. I waited for them to pass, but I realized it was futile. Children were scattered over the entire beach like landmines. If I managed to evade one group, I would undoubtedly stumble across another.

I was trapped.

***

I could likely survive the first few encounters without succumbing to play, but eventually, I would join them. Was this Eve’s plot to have me learn my lesson? Would she rescue me, or would she wait, until she had a darling little girl to take home? I wasn’t sure how long it would take, considering Ashley had been gone for a week and came back with a lobotomy, but I had been exposed multiple times already, and my willpower was fading.

Fun. Fun. Fun. The word skipped to unheard music in my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man handing out balloons, advertising some newly renovated car dealership. I wanted a big shiny red one. Kids surrounded the man, reaching hands out to grasp the hard plastic sticks that held the balloons. It was a picturesque scene- the very definition of childlike innocence. As the children left with their balloons, they bounced excitedly. One group of young boys decided to play balloon swords, but this unfortunately caused their balloons to come loose and slowly drift out of reach.

Most of them simply held the balloons with satisfied smiles. I couldn’t understand what was so special about them, but I desperately wanted one. I slowly made my way toward the balloon man.

Just as I reached the edge of the group, I saw a flash of tanned skin out of the corner of my eye and seconds later, I was bowled over.

“Get out of the way, kid.”

At first, I thought a cement block had struck me square in the chest, but as I looked up, I could see it was actually a ‘roid freak. Before my change, I was a regular at the gym, but I wasn’t like them. They were the type who would attempt to bully their way onto machines, staring down other guys and sometimes girls to the point where they would become intimidated and give up the equipment. They constantly talked about how much they were lifting and asked other people how much they lifted.

They grunted like cavemen when they lifted, and when they lifted something heavier than they could take, they sounded like they were either having an orgasm or shitting. I had been stupid enough to get into lifting contests with them, but they usually had some specific vulnerabilities. Despite the fact that their musculature made them look threatening, they actually weren’t. Most of them had never had to throw a punch because their physique was frightening enough. The ones that really juiced- like veins popping out of the eyeballs juicing were also really self-conscious. These were the guys in the gym who always wore a towel in the change room.

I wasn’t sure if they actually caused shrinkage in their package, but why would the most buff guys with muscle upon muscle actually cover up any part of their body?

I was surprised a concerned parent hadn’t become involved immediately after I’d been knocked down, but since the kids were so loud and the parents were busy trying to wrangle their own kids, the contact went unnoticed. Despite being unceremoniously dumped in the sand, I was actually relieved. For one, the ‘roid freak had completely broken my balloon trance. Secondly, and most importantly, I saw in his hands an object that could actually allow me to complete today’s objective- ogling hot bikini-wearing girls.

“Hey, is that a ticket to the party over there?”

The guy nodded his tiny head. It was probably regular-sized, but atop the mountain of muscle, it looked like he had angered some voodoo queen. He turned and headed off in the direction of the party. I ran up alongside him.

“Hey, I need to get in. I think my mom’s there.”

The guy continued walking, increasing his pace and forcing me to lightly jog next to him. “No way, kid. You’re too young. And now you’re fucking bothering me. So piss off.”

Instead of growing angry, I just smiled sweetly. “Listen, you muscle head, you’re going to take me with you. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell every girl that even looks at you that you were mean to me. You know how you knocked me over? That’ll be a good ice breaker.”

The guy laughed, “You’ve got some balls, kid. I’ll give you that. But how are you gonna tell them if you can’t get in?”

I gave him a knowing look, the sweet smile never leaving my face, “Look at me. I’m cute. And I’ve lost my mom in there. You don’t think someone is going to let me in?”

I was laying it on thick, but I was acting, and I figured that my adorable face with its button nose and rosy cheeks should finally be good for something. Yup, it was going to let me see supreme tits and ass.

The guy shook his head in disbelief, “You’re a weird, little girl. Why do you even need me if you can get in by yourself?”

I grinned, “Well it’s just easier if we have a story. I came to you, looking for my mom. She said she was going to the party. Imagine if you help me find her and a bunch of girls see that. You’ve got it made, man.”

He continued looking at me like I was either high or that he was high. “I’m not good at- well- I’m not sure I can get you in.” I figured.

We were about fifty feet away from the line-up, and I could see the bouncers. They were equally massive, and ‘roid freak obviously hoped he could get by in life with never opening his mouth.

I nodded, “I get it. Look, no problem. Let me do all the talking.”

At that point, I probably could have convinced him to let me borrow his wallet. It was really the first time I had used my body and my age to manipulate someone. It’s not like I had batted my eyelashes or smiled cutely at Eve or Greg, hoping for extra scoops of ice cream. I couldn’t get over how easy it was. Still, it was a slippery slope, and one that could land me on an actual slip n’ slide.

We made our way to the long line, but with a few quick words, we were soon at the front, facing the bouncers. Both were wearing t-shirts that cried out for release, with sleeves straining to contain their massive veiny arms. One was slightly smaller, but he only looked this way because he must have been almost seven feet tall. Honestly, both men looked like genetically altered super humans. Their arms and legs looked thicker than my entire body.

Despite this, I felt no fear. I knew how to play bouncers like them, and I had a new secret weapon.

I was adorable.

I fell into character, sticking out my lip and lowering my head. I was talking to my feet, but it was all for effect. “I think my mom’s in there. I saw her go in line. This nice guy said he’d take me in to look for her.”

The hot blonde waiting in line right behind us said, “Aww, that’s so sweet.” The sob story caught the ears of a few other girls, all of them looking at my ‘saviour’ with interest that hadn’t existed moments ago. It only worked with some girls, but kids, puppies, kittens - it was like the perfect ice breaker. The girls thought that ‘roid freak was kind, virtuous and genuine.

It wasn’t complicated. The girls didn’t want kids now, but I am sure they were still subconsciously thinking about it, and so their choice of boyfriend often had to be kid-friendly. I knew this for a fact because some girls just melted hearing stories about me volunteering at a community centre. The part about the free acting lessons usually softened most of them up significantly. Some like Monique didn’t care, but many bought the story.

It wasn’t the best way to start a relationship, but then it was really just messing around. There wasn’t baggage associated with it, at least for me. I never told bold-faced lies to Jessica or Hannah. And besides, girls lie too.

The most common? They lie about the number of guys they’ve been with, both rounding up and rounding down. I’ve been with girls who lied about being virgins. Girls don’t want to be sluts, but they also don’t want to seem like wannabe Amish either. So, they lie about their number of sexual partners. Word to the wise, there is nothing worse than virgins. Some guys might think that it is fun to pop a cherry, and that it is some kind of accomplishment, but the consequences are often not worth the short thrill. Some girls break down crying, in disbelief they gave it away on a drunken whim, and others start picking out napkins and china for the wedding. Some exaggeration there. Either way, everyone lies to get what they want, to create an image, an ideal of how they want to be viewed.

The giant bouncer asked, “Where’s your dad, kid?

I replied sadly, “He had to work.” I sniffed lightly.

The other bouncer asked, “Why would your mom leave you alone?”

I knew the question was coming, and I played the reaction like a little girl fighting the fear of abandonment mixed with frustration, knowing that something was wrong with her mother, and yet not understanding it and being powerless to help. My eyes sunk and my shoulders slumped in defeat, my voice had been reduced to a pathetic whine. “I-I don’t know.” I sniffed lightly, my face becoming a pained mask.

“You’re such a dick! Just let the poor kid look for her mom in there.”

“How could you ask a little girl a question like that?”

“Look, you’re making her cry!”

The girls immediately behind us were firmly on my side.

The giant bouncer said, “Hey, Trav - maybe we should let the kid in. You know for five minutes. It’s not like she’s going to drink a 40 of rum or something.” He pointed to ‘roid freak, “You. You take her in there and help her find her mom. Bring her back in five minutes.”

Roid freak did as he was told. Once again, I noticed how easy it was to manipulate people, this time with the threat of water works. I had no plan to use my cuteness factor on a regular basis, but it was for a good cause at least - tits and ass. I also realized that I was really getting into the part. Playing a six-year old was becoming easier. After the debacle at the studio, I wasn’t in a huge hurry to return to acting, but I was pleased that I still had it.

Roid freak said, “Wow, kid. You actually got in. And you got me to the front of the line. Uh, sorry about your mom and everything. Does she do this a lot? I hope we find her. Are you OK?” Apparently, roid freak was a human being after all. I don’t know why he suddenly decided to give a shit. Was I an even better actor than I thought?

I nodded, “Yeah. I’m okay. Look, I don’t really need you to walk around with me. We can meet back here in five minutes. Alright?”

The young man shook his head, “I’m supposed to stay with you and help you find your mom.”

I scoffed, surprised that I had seemingly lost my hold on the man, “What? So you’re a fucking boy scout now? You remember knocking me down, right? Acting like it was my fault?”

It only took a second for me to realize what he wanted. The trio of girls, who had been standing behind us in line, had entered the party. The young man waved them over, and in the process, completely ignored me.

I clenched my teeth and balled my tiny hands into fists, while the girls made their way over. Could I fault this asshole for using me like this? I would have done the same thing. The adorable little blonde girl was obviously a chick magnet. He would go through the motions of helping her find her mommy, while gaining a serious advantage over the trio of pretty co-eds.

The blonde said, “Hey! Did you want us to help you?”

‘Roid freak nodded, “Yeah, sure. I guess we should check the bar first.”

Holy shit. This guy was a smoother operator than I thought. Or maybe he figured the blonde girl’s alcoholic mom would be at the most likely place. I had either underestimated his intelligence, or he actually wanted to help.

Another blonde, this one with dark roots showing and some remnants of the freshman fifteen around her waist said, “We should find Tanya and Amanda. They could help too.”

The blonde lowered herself to eye level and said with a smile, “Hi, cutie. What’s your name?”

I replied flatly, “Riley.”

She nodded, the smile never leaving her face, “What a cute name! I love your swimsuit. Did you pick it out from the store all by yourself?”

This was tremendously annoying. Did real kids like being spoken to like this, and especially girls? I knew I was cute, but did she have to broadcast it to the world? A little tingle of pleasure ran up my spine, the same one that reared its ugly puss-filled head when I looked at myself in the mirror while wearing the dress. The word ‘cute’, along with ‘pretty’, had slowly infiltrated my mind. Their presence, like cement oozing down a trough, pooling within my brain, threatened to solidify the words not only in my vocabulary but also in my very core. This made it extremely difficult to enjoy the way the blonde’s rack jostled in her top. They were a bit saggy for my liking, but natural boobs obviously had gravity to worry about.

Amazingly, the way she was speaking to me made me think of Mrs. Feinstein, and how she rarely talked down to me. She actually treated me like a person, not some walking-talking stereotype.

The blonde asked me in this sing-songy voice that reminded me of the fucking record player from the studio. “So what does your mommy look like?” It took everything for me not to punch her in the mouth.

I replied, “She’s pretty, with long black hair. She’s wearing a yellow swimsuit.”

I had to get away from the group. I should have been in heaven - the kind of heaven where thumping house music causes hips to gyrate and boobs to jiggle enticingly. It was the type of place with a strict bikinis only dress code. This is what I saw before me, but I couldn’t enjoy it, not fully, not until I was away from this group - a group that was treating me exactly how I looked.

The group split up, with the hot blonde and ‘roid freak taking me to the bar, while the two other girls went somewhere else - looking for someone who didn’t exist. The bar was packed. Bartenders served beer and mixed drinks in red plastic cups. Drunk people made out, with one guy going to town on a girl’s neck. The music was raunchy, but perfect, mostly sped up top 40 remixes set to dirty beats. It was the kind of music that made girls want to take off their clothes. Some people, girls included, sat sullenly at the bar, looking like they didn’t belong. Either they were sick or pathetic. It was so easy to hook up at a party like this.

The party was in an exclusive water-front club. It was the type of place that even I would have had a hard time getting into. I wasn’t sure how ‘roid freak managed to score a pass, but his expensive watch and clothes told me that he either knew someone or paid someone. It was obvious that ridiculously hot girls got in for free- as the blonde and her friend didn’t even have passes. Many of the girls lounging around the in-ground pool and shaking their asses on main dance floor also didn’t have passes.

Suddenly, shouting erupted to our left. Male voices cheered, arms raised- I thought at first it was March Madness highlights or a fight, but it wasn’t- no, it was way, way better.

‘Roid freak said, “Should we really be letting her see this?”

The hot blonde replied, “Probably not.”

Laying on the bar with her tits pushed out and her legs firmly propped up on a bar stool was a woman doing body shots. I couldn’t see her face, but fuck, this is exactly what I wanted to see. What I needed to see. I didn’t exactly have the right equipment any more, but it was sort of like a muscle car engine being replaced with a shitty V4. It didn’t drive the same, but I could still enjoy the view.

“Hey, no kids allowed in here. How did she even get in?”

While I had been excited at the prospect of seeing the body shots, a female bartender quickly took the role of cock blocker. It’s not like I wanted to see other guys doing the body shots, but there was something about the wet skin, the smell of the alcohol mixing with tanning lotion and all of it on a body that was tight and smooth that got me revved up. At least, until the bartender ruined everything.

‘Roid freak said, “She said her mom’s in here. We’re trying to find her.”

The bartender said, “By bringing her to the bar to see body shots? And people sucking faces? There’s like three hundred people here too. We could just put an announcement over the PA. It might save the poor thing from being warped by this.”

The hot blonde replied, “Yeah, OK- and if her mom is too drunk or doesn’t care? That’s kind of the problem. I get the feeling she’s done this before.”

The bartender nodded, “Good point. It’s more serious than just finding her though. If she’s too drunk to take care of her daughter, then we’ve got a bigger problem. And you know now that I think about it, maybe we should just call the police. She way too young to be left alone.”

‘Roid freak said, “She said her dad had to work, but maybe he could just come and get her.”

My story was starting to unravel, or it would as soon as they tried to call Greg. His improvisation skills weren’t just lacking- they were non-existent. The bartender clearly had the little blonde girl’s best interests in mind, and that meant trouble, especially if the police got involved. It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy the body shots while the adults discussed my fate as if I couldn’t hear every word. Maybe they thought I didn’t understand. Either way, I wasn’t going to get what I needed to reassert my alpha maleness hanging around this group.

While the three of them talked about different options for finding my ‘mommy’, I slipped away. It was surprisingly easy. For one, they hadn’t even been paying attention to me. Beyond the bar, I could see a staircase which led to a balcony. I quickly moved toward the stairs, and while the crowd was dense, with tight bodies packed together their limbs flailing almost in unison to the dirty beats, because of my size, I was able to slide between the bodies and duck under the limbs.

I knew I didn’t have much time, but I had to see something worthwhile. Most importantly, however, I had to feel something that told me that Ryan Sullivan was OK- that he hadn’t been swallowed by a world of puffy dresses and plastic dolls.

I managed to reach the stairs. Thankfully, most of the people around me were too wasted to even notice a six-year old. As I started to climb the stairs, I heard the familiar sound of men shouting. Thinking it would lead to more body shots, I quickened my pace. I reached the top of the stairs and slipped through a heavy velvet curtain, where a small group of guys, probably early to mid-twenties, were doing shotguns. They punctured beer cans and then brought them to waiting lips, letting the liquid spray into their mouths like water from a busted faucet.

I hadn’t really hung out with guys like this before, at least not on an extended basis. In clubs, I preferred guys like Greg. He made me look better by comparison, especially because compared to these guys- I was average. These were the guys that I got into lifting contests with at the gym, and the ones that I competed with for the hottest girls at the bar.

I was surprised to see they were drinking from beer cans, considering everyone downstairs had those red plastic cups and were actually buying their drinks. Apparently, when you were a true alpha, in both body and mind, you said to fuck with the rules.

Still, it didn’t explain why the guys were on the balcony for a sausage party. I figured that the curtain would lead to a champagne room, but I was actually on the balcony overlooking the pool. Why had the guys staked out this spot?

“Welcome to the wettest, fucking hottest spring break party in California! Club Sin is proud to present GIRLS GONE WILD!” The crowd below roared in approval, both men and women, but mostly men.

As a teenager, I didn’t exactly need my dad’s old car magazines, with hot women splayed out over equally hot looking cars. I didn’t need it because we had the internet- that magical box that let teenage boys see boobs. It was actually at a friend’s house- I was about thirteen, and the kids’ parents were out. Well, he showed me a video that made every single pleasure capable nerve in my body practically spasm.

Girls in bikinis pouring water on themselves, shaking their asses and exposing their boobs. It was everything a teenage boy could want, and it was free. That was my introduction to Girls Gone Wild, and while I had always wanted to actually be there, I never had the money to go to Cancun or to get into private bars like Club Sin, where they always shot them, but now- here I was about to see the Greatest Show on Earth.

I found a dark corner to hide and looked down on paradise.

It started with a relatively mild bikini contest. The girls paraded out, each with a number attached to their hip. They strutted down a walkway leading from the stage to the edge of the pool. Dirty beats sent hips thrusting and asses jiggling, causing the crowd to cheer wildly.

Something was off though. Equipment lacking aside, it was all sort of meh. It was like a prize fight, two fierce, brutal competitors, and then a knock-out in the first thirty seconds. All the hype attached to the bout, the hours of commentary, the weigh-in that turns into a shoving match, it ended up being a massive disappointment.

I had been looking forward to this from the moment Greg suggested it, and while Eve had been the equivalent of a cold shower, I had managed to ditch her. And unlike earlier at the bar, I was mostly alone.

Plus, I wasn’t being treated like a kid, which had severely sapped my libido. There was no excuse for feeling like this. It felt like I was trying to force myself to be attracted to a fat girl or something. It was unnatural.

The bikini contest turned into a wet t-shirt contest, and then there was a dance off. The incredibly hot blonde, the same one that had allowed me to ditch Eve, took the stage and got into her dance routine, which mostly involved shaking her ass up and down. Suddenly, an extremely drunk girl jumped on stage and started grinding against perfection in a bikini. This caused the crowd to erupt, an absolute explosion of approval.

While the blonde was initially nonplussed and annoyed with the cheering, she quickly got into it.

“Kiss her! Yeah fucking make out!”

The drunk girl roughly pulled the blonde toward her and extended her tongue, proceeding to lick the other girl’s neck. The rough treatment caused something wonderful to happen. The blonde’s bikini top was pulled down revealing a bare boob. This was followed by the other girl, who was a pretty Latina with a nice ass, ramming her tongue down the throat of the blonde.

It was unbelievably hot girl-on-girl action. It was every man’s fantasy playing out not on a TV screen, but in wonderful, tanned and tight flesh. Below, hundreds of cell phones captured the moment.

As the guys beside me watched on in ecstasy, continuing to shotgun and holler at the girls, I watched in agony. My body hadn’t experienced a single pinprick of pleasure. Worst of all, the longer I stayed here, the stranger I felt - like I didn’t belong.

Like I was seeing something I shouldn’t.

I left the shadows, my perfect hiding spot to view what should have been a reassertion of my manhood.

Realization struck me, but this time it wasn’t like a simple punch in the face. No, this realization was a transport truck not simply striking but demolishing a four-door sedan, leaving the car in a junkyard-ready state.

The tingle…it had never been for attractiveness. The only time I had felt it was when I was being helped by someone. It had been there when Eve shampooed my hair for the first time and just today, when she applied sunscreen to my back and shoulders. A similar sensation shot up my spine when Mrs. Feinstein had taken my side about the dress issue.

But, I had felt it at El Casa. I knew that it was there, as I stared at the amazing boobs, jutting out from the tight blouse of the waitress as she handed me…

Crayons.

I fled the club, running as fast as my short legs would carry me. At this point, I wasn’t thinking of who would see me - I just needed to get away from all the bikini bodies. Their lithe, toned shapes, perfectly formed asses, gravity-defying boobs, and long lustrous hair, bouncing in curly waves along their back was all a painful tease.

I slipped through the drunks, the outcasts and the beautiful people, quickly reaching the entrance. I couldn’t walk past the bouncers, not after ditching everyone inside. They were probably looking for me. The metal barrier that ran alongside the entrance to Club Sin gave me an idea. While the barrier kept the adult-sized from sneaking into the club, it was an easy fit for my escape.

I slid my slender frame through the bars and found myself in the middle of the line for Club Sin, Incredibly, the line stretched halfway down the beach. Last year, I would have done anything to get in, letting Ashley lecture me for three straight hours on the mistreatment of women in Hollywood, and I probably would have even agreed to make out with the disgusting receptionist at Dr. Travers’ clinic. Now, however, I wanted nothing to do with it. The lack of even a tingle was making me seriously question if I still found girls attractive. My posture was defeated, with slumped shoulders and eyes that stared at sand and cute little white sandals.

The serum had won, but worst of all, it had won from the very beginning. I had been fighting to hold onto something that I had lost months ago.

The sound of laughter danced toward me, immediately my heart started to race, and a burst of energy filled my body. I slowly raised my head and my shoulders followed in kind. Slender bodies took to the air, propelling themselves out of the water and then landing, their hands cresting the water. I watched, fascinated, as the bodies disappeared underneath the waves, only to surface seconds later.

Three little girls splashed and swam and laughed. From the bizarre squeaking and honking they were doing, it sounded like they were trying to be dolphins. Or seals. I wasn’t sure, but the game looked fun- really fun, and it would make me forget for a little while that I wasn’t whole- that an integral piece of Ryan Sullivan was gone.

I slipped out of my sandals and walked slowly toward the water. Moments later, the waves nipped gently at my toes as I entered the surf.

Five minutes. I would stay for five minutes.

Within a minute, I was laughing and playing with the girls. They accepted me readily, but a slightly older girl said I had to be a mermaid. That sounded like fun too, and I was still friends with the dolphins.

Five minutes. Had it been five minutes yet?

The mermaids lived in castles below the ocean. I imagined myself with a long fishy tail, and incredibly, there it was. The older girl, the momma dolphin, dove down deep and pulled up a pretty shell. She put in my hair, and then the dolphins taught me their language.

It felt longer than five minutes. But was it?

How long is five minutes?

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 18

The mermaid and the dolphins were best friends. Every morning, they raced through the water to play hide-and-go-seek in the big seaweed forest. Then, after lunch, they swam to the reef to see all the beautiful coral. Like the rainbows they saw in the sky sometimes, the coral was in all colours. At the end of day, the mommy dolphin would take her babies home, and the mermaid went home to her family in the big castle at the edge of the seaweed forest.

“Wait. No, that’s not how the story goes. In the book, the mermaid doesn’t have a family.” The older girl looked at me expectantly, and then at the other two girls, who were about my age.

One of the girls said, “Why’s it have to be the same as the book? I think it’s sad that the mermaid doesn’t have a mommy and daddy.” She furrowed her brow gently, while her jaw extended in a slight pout.

The older girl shook her head, “Because I said so. And because I’m older. Besides, at the end of the story, the mermaid has a new mommy.”

A wide smile appeared on the girl’s face, “Me.”

I wanted to tell this girl off- tell her that her parents probably read her that book because she is adopted, and they were trying to get her mentally prepared to learn the truth. However, I didn’t say anything- I acted just like Kaylee with her older sister, choosing to watch, listen and follow.

It wasn’t surprising really. My younger cousins always wanted to play with me, no matter how many times I convinced them that putting duct tape in their hair or taking a ride in the dryer was a good idea. I wasn’t exactly immune to the trope either. When I was about seven, I desperately wanted to hang out with a group of sixth graders that hung out behind the jungle gym. I remember being so amazed by their skate tricks, their ripped jeans, and the way they spoke- even if I didn’t understand about 75% of what they were talking about, it was all incredible.

They would let me hang out with them but only under one condition- I had to eat grass. They laughed as I ripped out of a patch out grass and stuffed it in my mouth every day at lunch. It was only stopped when they demanded more. One day they convinced me to eat a cigarette butt, and while I was happy for that lunch hour, I was much less so when I was puking my guts out in the bathroom an hour later.

That was one good thing about changing schools nearly every year. In September, I wasn’t the kid who ate grass or cigarette butts- I was just the new kid. It was a clean slate. It made me wonder if my transformation was an opportunity for a fresh start. A life I could surrender to and forget my difficult childhood, my failures? The constant battle would end, and neither my gender nor my age would matter. I’d play with girls like these, becoming like them in every way, until the inevitable- the death of Ryan Sullivan.

“Okay, I’m your mommy now. Your name is Cecily.”

She pointed at me, and I simply nodded, accepting the truth as the outside world faded away. The older girl, or rather the mommy dolphin, taught the mermaid everything she needed to know about living under the sea. Cecily learned about warm air pockets that would keep her cozy during colder nights and where to catch the best tasting fish. And every night, the mommy dolphin would kiss Cecily on the cheek and tuck her into a soft seaweed bed.

I should have been embarrassed, mortified- my masculinity seeping from me with every giggle and burst of imagination, but I wasn’t. I lay my head in the sand as the older girl draped dry seaweed over my body, while the younger ones pretended to sleep beside me. We had moved onto the beach after the older girl proclaimed that wet seaweed was too ‘icky’.

A tingle of pleasure ran up my spine followed by a contented sigh. I knew that the girl wasn’t my real mother, and that she was probably only eight years old, but she made me feel like I was a little boy again. A memory flashed- my mom lifting me out of the bath, and then rubbing me dry before wrapping me in a towel. I slipped into a cozy bed, wearing my favourite Batman PJs, the ones with the tear in the left armpit. It was a time when that hated target, the person I eventually wouldn’t respect, wouldn’t listen to, when she was mommy. It was a perfect, pure memory, and the further I descended into its warm embrace, the more my life- the one where I struggled to survive, where I wore pain and betrayal and loss like tattoos, angry lines and spiteful colours striking a pattern of cynicism, distrust and excess- the more that life faded away.

Gone as if it had never existed.

I never wanted this moment to end.

“Riley! Riley!”

A large shadow crept close, causing the baby dolphins to look up into the sky. Moments later, a hand reached down toward Cecily, but it was scarier than anything she had seen before. The hand was more of a claw, a horrible thing with razor-sharp talons instead of nails. The claw pulled Cecily away while the baby dolphins whined and cried in fear. The mommy dolphin shouted at the shadow, but it didn’t listen. She pleaded with the shadow to let Cecily stay, but again, it didn’t listen.

Cecily tried to pull away, but the shadow was much too strong for the little mermaid. She could only look back sadly at her friends and the mommy dolphin. There would be no more games of tag in the seaweed forest or cozy bed or kisses on the cheek. Her friends waved to her, but the shadow brought her further and further away.

The shadow threw Cecily in a cage and slammed the door.

“Ryan! Ryan! Snap out of it!” The shadow spoke, but instead of the bellow she expected, or a monstrous howl that would create instant nightmares, there was desperation and fear.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you alone. Come on, Ryan! I know you’re in there.”

I sighed heavily, “There’s no point. You should have just left me there.”

Eve shook her head, while her hand snaked out toward mine. By this point, it was a reflex action, but while the action came easily, the hand was quickly retracted. “What are talking about? I don’t expect a thanks or anything, especially since it’s partly my fault, but I want you to tell me what’s going on. No macho bullshit here, Ryan. Why were you fighting me so much? You were just as bad as those girls begging me to let you stay five more minutes.”

“It didn’t exactly look good with me having to drag you out of there. We probably got way more attention than we wanted. Why did you want me to leave you there?”

I turned away from Eve, peering sadly out the window, “Because nothing fucking matters anymore. It’s over. It was over from the very beginning.”

Eve asked softly, “What do you mean?”

I replied, still looking away from her, “I don’t feel anything for girls. And what I thought I was feeling, well it’s just- it was wrong. It wasn’t how it used to be.”

Eve shifted in her seat. There was a pause, and then incredibly, instead of heartfelt words of understanding or even a reassuring and comforting touch on the hand- there was laughter. A snort from Eve’s less than perfect nostrils. She closed her lips firmly and shut her eyes to seemingly try to stifle the laughter, but she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth very gently lifting, forming a tiny yet perceptible smile. Seconds later, another snort broke through, and this sent me into a boiling rage.

“What the fuck is your problem, Eve!? You think this is funny?!”

Eve cleared her throat lightly. For someone who didn’t smoke, her voice was strangely hoarse. It was another thing I found unattractive about her. While her voice wasn’t mannish, it wasn’t exactly a silky soprano either. It was gruff, like the school bus driver I had in fourth grade who was nearly constantly yelling at us. “Sorry. Really, I’m sorry. It’s just- you’re reacting to this like you lost a limb or something. Or like you suddenly forgot how to read and write. Something really essential. I know I’m not a guy or anything, but the ability to get hard or look at a girl in a bikini and think she’s hot isn’t something that would define me.”

“And really, what did you expect, Ryan? I’ve been telling you this since you moved in. That body belongs to a little kid, and because of that, well I’ve already told you about the sleep thing. You can’t think that you are going to do everything or feel everything you did as Ryan. You are setting yourself up for failure that way. And as for your specific problem, well if you let your sexual prowess define you as a person, then yeah you are probably right- I should bring you back there because if that’s true, then Ryan Sullivan was never a real person. He was just a walking-talking dick head.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words never came, in fact, they never even tickled my tongue. Moments later, Eve pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Ten minutes into the ride, words, like a middle aged libido suddenly introduced to Viagra, sprung from my lips. “Is that what you really think of me? Is that what you- what you’ve always thought of me?” There was surprising trepidation in my speech, but even more shocking was the hurt. I couldn’t understand why Eve’s words had rung so true. I was like a person whose nerves had gone dead- a hand on a hot stove would burn, even blacken skin, but there would never be feeling. The pain should have been apparent, like any number of insults hurled my way, but I brushed them off. Now, it was clear, I was developing an alien sensitivity, and Eve’s words had struck a deep chord. It was like she had plunged her hand into my chest and plucked at my heart with bloody fingers.

Eve replied firmly, “From the moment I met you, yeah- I did think that about you. I saw how you treated Greg. How you used him for rides or money sometimes. And I saw how you treated women. My best friend and Rachel. Yeah, Ryan- I hated you. I thought you were a massive asshole, and I really wanted Greg to stop hanging out with you.” Her face softened and she sighed gently, “I’ve mentioned this before, but with this change, you’ve opened up more. You’re vulnerable, but still strong. I know that you hate what has happened to you, but it has forced you to come to grips with the fact that you can’t just pretend things don’t bother you. You can’t smother them with meaningless nights of sex and drugs or video games.”

She said quietly, “But I don’t hate you now. And I actually do want to see you turned back. No one deserves to have their life rewritten by some experiment, to become something that feels completely wrong to them.”

Words tumbled from my lips, completely bypassing my filter, “Part of it doesn’t feel wrong though. I-I was so happy with those girls. I didn’t care about anything when I was playing with them. There wasn’t this sense of failure or concern that I was acting like a kid. I didn’t think about the consequences at all. It was so ...”

“Easy? I’ve helped a lot of patients, drug addicts really, go through detox. What you are describing to me, what the serum does to you, it sounds like a really powerful drug. But I know you Ryan. I don’t think you meant what you said- you know about me just leaving you there. About giving up.”

I breathed in, my little chest feeling like it would cave in, until I released a heavy sigh, “You actually don’t really know me, Eve. Yeah, you know how I joke around and how I treat your friends and your boyfriend. I want to give up as much as I want to be a guy, an adult, again. I don’t deal well with shit like this. I’m used to just running from it. Why do you think I never call my mom? Why do you think I never called Jessica back after the double? Because it’s just fucking easier to run from it, to find another girl as hot as her but without the ...”

“Intelligence. I get it. OK, but let me ask you this. How come up to this point you were fighting it? You don’t dress like a typical six-year girl. Or act like one most of the time. You fought me like your life depended on it on the car seat issue. But today, you find out you can’t ogle girls and enjoy it and you are ready to give into the serum. What gives, Ryan? Why are you running now?”

My voice raised in pitch and volume, the vocal chords suddenly strangled, “Because I don’t know what else to fucking do! I’ve never dealt with anything like this where I feel myself slipping away and each time I do, all I can think about is how happy I am. And then I realize how fucked up stuff is getting, and I just want to leave- but I can’t because I have nowhere to go. Believe me, I want to fight, but I don’t know how.”

Eve replied, “You need to think about what makes you Ryan beyond your sexuality. I think that’s the only way you’ll be able to hold on to who you really are.”

Eve’s statement introduced another long silence in the car.

During the pause, I took many furtive glances toward Eve. Was she still mad about Rachel and the bikini blonde? The way she lightly moved her jaw back and forth in a grinding motion told me all I needed to know.

“I don’t know if it means anything, but I’m sorry about the shit I said about the bikini girl in front of you. I did it to piss you off so you’d stop being all mothery.”

“I know. I know you better than you think, Ryan. I figured at some point you would try and ditch me and sneak into one of the parties. I saw you go off with that guy, and I followed you.” For the matter-of-fact manner in which Eve was speaking, it was surprising to hear a measure of hurt in her voice. It was like a sliver in a finger, a tiny yet constant dull pulsating pain.

I replied, “So why didn’t you stop me?”

Eve nodded, “I tried.” Now, the sliver was a nail, the thin steel puncturing the finger, and the pain, it became a thrumming, vibrant pain- the kind that elicited screams.

“You skipped the line so easily, but the line kept moving, so I stayed. And I waited and waited. Until my turn finally came, and then these girls behind me got in. They didn’t even have passes.”

“I know it’s stupid. And it is really idiotic to think that I’m on the same level as that girl you were looking at before, but it just- it hit home. I saw you slip through the gate. And then I remembered all the times you made fun of my weight. And I saw you in those asshole bouncers, the way they looked at me with almost disgust, like I was worthless. They didn’t have to say anything. I knew I wasn’t getting in. And I saw red. I couldn’t think clearly. That’s when I let you walk right into that group of girls.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. If I had known your mental state, I would have gone to you sooner. I just- I was furious with you, the bouncers, and myself. Mostly you. You may think they are jokes, but they really hurt me. I battled with my weight all through high school- I’m not excusing what I did to you. I realize I never should have left you.”

I jumped in, “Wait- wait a second, why were you pissed at yourself? You know I didn’t mean anything with it. I’m the same way with Greg. I’m just messing around.”

Eve replied firmly, “Bullshit. You can’t be so clueless that you think calling a girl fat is actually a joke. I also don’t like how you talk to Greg sometimes. And they aren’t jokes, Ryan. Because I sure as hell don’t feel like laughing. You make me feel like shit sometimes. I’m mad at myself for letting it bother me.”

Guys made fun of me in school, calling me ginger kid, some of them pretending I had a disease, but it never really bothered me because I kicked the shit out of anyone who really pissed me off. After a few solid punches, they kept their mouths shut. In Eve’s case, however, she never struck back. She never said a word.

I felt a deep chasm form within my stomach, and within that dark hole a sensation, a gnawing, like my belly was suddenly full of starving rats. Guilt wasn’t a new emotion but it was brand new with respect to Eve.

“Yeah, alright- I was messing with you. Trying to piss you off. Mostly because I knew you didn’t like me. You hated me from the beginning, so I just figured what’s the point in trying to get you to like me. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I mean I appreciate you guys taking me in. You didn’t have to do that. You could have called the police, and then I would have been fucked. I would have been a foster kid and gone to school and been erased. Travers and Daniels would have won completely because there would have been no way the truth would ever get out.”

I cleared my throat, “I guess, well you know- it’s…thanks. For believing me and taking me in.”

Eve smiled gently, “Yeah, cause no one else would put up with you.” Her jaw clenched and the smile hardened into grim resolve, “I know how important this is. People need to know what the government and those companies are doing. It’s important that we keep you safe for that reason alone, but personally, I also want to get to know a new Ryan Sullivan.”

She smiled, “One I can actually like.”

***

After the debacle at the beach, I was actually looking forward to the weekday routine. Despite having to spend the time with an old woman, I actually liked her company, but most importantly, I loved her praise. My dad hadn’t given praise easily. The first time I successfully took apart and reassembled the carburetor of a Mustang, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. A little squeeze was all it took to tell me that he has proud of what I had done. Even though, I was completing simple math problems and spelling three-letter words, it didn’t matter. The shiver of pleasure and the warm feeling that seemed to overtake my body was something I was coming to crave. I knew that the craving was dangerous and that indulging in it could potentially cause further regression, but it was hard to ignore.

I didn’t get it from Eve or Greg. They knew better. If Eve or Greg thanked me for bringing my dish to the counter or some equally mundane task, I probably would have smashed the dish and come at them with the jagged shards. Or at the very least told them to fuck off.

Mrs. Feinstein didn’t give praise regularly, but because I was such a ‘remarkable child’, she gushed over my reading ability. Even from our first reading session, I realized I couldn’t appear too smart. It would seem unnatural, and it could cause problems with my false identity. Mrs. Feinstein tried to convince Eve that I would be ‘perfectly suited to the demanding and diverse Prescott Academy curriculum’. She urged Eve to take me on a tour of the school. After that, I knew that I needed to make more mistakes. I could show I was smart, but I couldn’t be reading at a high school level at six years old.

So, that’s exactly what I did. When we returned to reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, I fudged more of the words, read slower and allowed Mrs. Feinstein to help me through the pronunciation of some words.

It was Tuesday, and I was looking forward to returning to the mystery of the hound. A part of me thought that the hound wasn’t real, that it was probably some trick, like an old Scooby Doo episode, but my imagination, at times, wanted to transform the animal into a beast, one with slavering jaws and red glowing eyes.

“Would you like to start off today, Riley?” I nodded eagerly.

I slowly read through a few sentences, taking my time to pronounce each syllable clearly. On certain words, especially the harder ones, I would purposely struggle, allowing Mrs. Feinstein to jump in and sound it out with me. While I enjoyed the praise I received, it was much better to have the former teacher read as she made the words jump off the page and stir my imagination.

“Car ...”

“Car ...”

Mrs. Feinstein moved her finger to the word, “Sound it out, Riley.”

“Car”

I looked down at the word and recognized each letter in it, but I couldn’t pronounce it. I figured it was because I had never seen the word. The book was probably written at least a hundred years ago, so there were at least a few words I didn’t recognize, but I was sure I had seen this one before.

“Car! Fuck!”

More worrisome, however, was the fact I couldn’t say it. I knew what letters formed the word, but the letters, except for the first three, wouldn’t link together into a discernible pattern.

“Riley! Watch your language. Now, there’s no reason to fret. This is a very difficult word. And of course, you’re still learning to read. Why some adults would have trouble pronouncing it.”

I shook my head, blurting out, “But I know that word! I’ve seen it before. And I know how to read!”

Mrs. Feinstein smiled gently, “Now, now child- you are far too hard on yourself. You can’t expect to read the whole dictionary at your age. I know you are frustrated, but you can do this. The word is tricky. You actually pronounce the first three letters like CARE. It might seem like you should have three syllables, or word parts, but you only have two. The second part is pronounced RIAGE. It’s a G, but when the word ends in an E it almost always has a J sound. Like cage and page.”

I nodded, “I know that. I know all that stuff. And I know that word. I know what it is. It’s attached to a horse, and it brings people places.”

The old woman took off her glasses, allowing them to gently dangle from the chain around her neck. “Maybe that’s enough reading for today. It’s a gorgeous day outside, and your mom has left me a key. We can go and get your swimsuit. There’s a splash park calling your name and a bench calling mine.”

I crossed my arms and lowered my head. “I don’t wanna go outside.” Outside the safety of the apartment, lived a mermaid named Cecily, along with a seemingly boundless imagination.

Mrs. Feinstein began gently nudging me from her lap, “What’s this all about then? You spent most of your day indoors at school today. It’s a lovely day, and they’ll be plenty of children your age. It’ll be fun. Plus, young ladies that stay inside too long become part of the furniture. You wouldn’t want to lay around all day as a duvet cover, would you?”

My mom used to say “it’ll be fun” when she would drag me to banking appointments or when she had to shop for clothes. Which usually involved her complaining about trying to fit her fat ass in a pair of pants two sizes too small. Mrs. Feinstein’s words, however, carried excitement with them. As someone who moved often, I was usually happy to meet new people, especially if the previous town sucked. So, it was difficult to control my excitement at the prospect of meeting new kids, who would bring new games and ideas. Even more so, it was becoming harder to fight against my natural affinity toward kids Riley’s age, especially girls.

An earlier image from the waterpark returned, but this time, instead of being alone under the giant bucket, I was joined by others, who shrieked with me as the bucket dumped water on us. After that, we could play freeze tag in the sprinklers.

I looked at my phone, which had been stuffed into the side pocket of my knapsack and considered texting Greg or Eve for the rescue.

I quickly moved toward my bag, desperately trying to pull the phone from the pocket. The pocket itself was made to hold a small box of crayons at most, but my phone, which was practically a tablet in my hands, was wider than that. Greg had stuffed it in there, along with my ‘homework’ before leaving for work.

“I wouldn’t bring that to the park, Riley. It might be ruined. I still don’t understand why your parents would purchase something so expensive for a child, especially when they can’t afford after-school care. Now this is just me on a mighty tiny soap box. You know that I really enjoy our time together. I certainly don’t want it to end.”

The old woman snatched up her cane, “But we can’t stay another minute longer in here. I just know that your parents will come to get you and all they’ll find will be a lovely white duvet and a dusty old lounger.”

For someone so old, I was surprised how strong she was. She easily pulled me away from my backpack, while using her cane to balance. Greg and Eve, other than when Eve helped me with my hair or when she dragged me from the beach, rarely put a hand on me. Like the non-existent praise, they lived much more comfortable and pain-free lives by making this notion a reality. Doubt began to batter my mind, and as the elevator rose to the second floor, I fearfully realized that I wasn’t fighting Mrs. Feinstein because I desperately wanted to go to the park. I wanted to feel the same joy I had felt as Cecily.

But, most of all, I wanted to be carefree and happy again.

All the needles of doubt puncturing my mind would leave. Those same ones filling me with this sense that my body didn’t match my brain, that I was some twisted science experiment, an inhuman nothing created in a laboratory- that I was a failure for giving in so readily to the serum and that I had let Ashley down.

Mrs. Feinstein juggled the key and her cane, trying to maintain her balance while she fiddled with the lock. The super was way better in this building than mine, but the lock still needed some attention. The plunger wouldn’t go down for Mrs. Feinstein, meaning she wouldn’t be able to get the door opened, unless she did like Greg and forced it open. Eve had called for the lock to be fixed, but thankfully, it hadn’t happened yet. I breathed a sigh of relief, and while I wasn’t eager to return to the Hound of the Baskervilles, it looked like I would be spared a trip to the splash park.

Mrs. Feinstein said, “Darn it all, this lock doesn’t want to cooperate!”

I shrugged, trying to hide the fact that I was elated, “Well, we can just go back to your place.”

Mrs. Feinstein replied, “I suppose we have little choice. Don’t worry though, Riley, I’ll have your parents pack your swimsuit for tomorrow. It’s supposed to be another scorcher! Oh and my granddaughters should be there. Sophia’s been asking about you. Oh, and Emma was happy to have her doll back. Thank you for finding it.”

***

Thankfully, Eve had booked Wednesday off. I knew it would mean a double shift for her next week, but it was worth it if she could keep me away from Emma and Sophia. While our relationship had improved, I was still cautious around Eve. She still fell into ‘mommy mode’ more than I liked.

“Ryan, it’s not going to kill you. And you can pick out all your own stuff. You’re going to need summer clothes.”

I was sprawled out on the couch, enjoying a marathon of slasher flicks. It was mindless, bloody fun- creative kills on dumb as fuck victims, many of them young women who thought running from a killer in high heels and a mini-skirt were excellent survival tactics. There were also plenty of naked boobs. While it sucked that I couldn’t enjoy them any longer, I was glad, at the very least, that I still loved the gore.

My eyes never left the TV screen as I spoke. “You know what I like. Nothing girly. Just plain t-shirts and shorts or whatever.”

A drill bored through a man’s eye socket, blood spurting from the hole like water from a firefighter’s hose. I laughed at the pure ridiculousness of the scene, especially when the hapless young man, the victim of a fiendish trap laid by the killer, attempted to drive in his condition. Seconds later, the windshield was covered in blood. Half-blind and now unable to see in front of him, the car struck a tree, ejecting him (no seat belt of course), into the waiting arms of the psychotic killer.

Eve shook her head, “How can you find that funny? It’s sick.”

I smirked, “It’s fucking hilarious. The guy has saw blades for arms. It’s all a big joke.”

Eve frowned, “I guess I don’t get it, but I don’t find dying funny. Maybe it’s because I work in a hospital where I see it every ...”

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily, “Holy shit, Eve. It’s just a movie.”

Eve watched the screen as a pair of working saw blades cut apart a terribly fake looking dummy. Each slice caused blood to spur forth from the ‘corpse’. The blood exited the body like a high-powered shower jet. “It’s very formulaic. The big boobed bimbo always dies after having sex. There is always a jump scare, but it is like a cat or a shadow, and then the killer pops out when they lower their guard.”

I laughed, “OK. Now you sound like Ashley. Yeah, a lot of them are the same. But there are some that really keep you guessing- horror mysteries. Those ones are honestly my favourite. Anyway, those rom-coms you watch are the same. It’s just in this case, instead of wondering how people will get together, it’s more about how they will die together. You know, by the hand of a guy with saw blade arms.”

Eve replied, “Do you think you’ll get back into acting again?”

I barked, feeling suddenly defensive. “Fuck, no. Not looking like this. Why do you even care anyway? I thought we were just talking about movies.”

Eve shook her head, “I meant after you turn back. You don’t have to bite my head off over this. And I’m asking because you know, I’m trying to be your friend. I know you love acting- it would really suck if you gave it up.”

I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes still not leaving the television screen, “It takes more than passion and a love for the business. That’s what I’ve seen. It takes connections and money- sometimes surgery- for me especially. Yeah, there’s nothing like it in the world, but I was stupid to think that I even had a chance at all in the first place.”

Eve looked at me tenderly, or at least
the same way she looks at a snack cake before devouring it. The process usually involving her plunging her fingers into the moist centre and ripping it in two, causing the chemical goo to leak out onto her hand. By that point, her fingers are usually covered in chocolate, even caked on underneath her nails.

Nasty, hurtful words came to my lips, but they never left them.

I wasn’t certain if it was the time we had spent together on the beach, the fact that I had opened up to her, or the continued effects of the serum, but I couldn’t bring myself to insult her. What had been a natural reaction, especially during something as simple as a discussion/argument concerning movies, was no longer like a second nature.

In fact, it felt wrong, and once again, that deep chasm opened up in my belly bringing on powerful feelings of guilt.

Eve said, “You are too hard on yourself, Ryan. You have real talent. Yeah, you can deliver lines well, speak clearly and with emotion, but more than anything, you can tell a story. And you can make anyone believe that what they are seeing is real. Even me.”

My eyes gradually shifted toward Eve, away from the movie for the first time. “Bullshit. I get what you are doing, Eve. You’re trying to make me feel better because of what happened at the beach.”

Eve replied, “Not everything is a game between people. A back and forth to see who ‘wins’. I told you why I asked you. I’m not trying to one up you or dig up painful memories. You can tell me to fuck off after, but let me say something first.” I shrugged, clearly uninterested, but Eve took this as the green light.

She sat down on the arm of the couch, “You remember that tiny theatre off Burbank? The one with the leaky roof and the soiled carpets?”

I nodded, “Yeah. It was a shit hole. It used to be a movie theatre but a broke as fuck theatre company decided it would be a good idea to turn it into a playhouse.”

Eve smiled, “Yes. It was the first play you ever invited us to. Well you invited Greg, but who else was he going to bring?” My eyes slowly rolled back inside my head. While I liked Eve more now than before my change, her sense of humour was still terrible. Despite my attempt at a facial expression that screamed “you are boring me to death”, she continued.

“It was a three act play, and there were only two characters. And to be honest, it wasn’t a very good play. Part of it didn’t make sense. The guy who was playing your brother kept forgetting his lines. And the whole ending just didn’t work. But you know what did work? You. In a crappy play and in a building that should have been condemned, you killed that performance.”

“The part where you address the audience about your brother’s death, it just blew me away. At first, I just couldn’t believe that it was you. This was the same guy who, on the night that I met him, called one of my friends a ‘grenade’ to her face. In the play though, you were like a completely different person, and you sold me on that. If you can do that with me, you can do it with anyone- in any role.”

She said firmly, “I know you don’t want to act now, but you shouldn’t give up your dream. You have no idea how talented you are. How lucky you are that you can tell a story like that and bring people into it.”

I smirked, “Did you cry?”

Eve smartly replied, “Nope. But Greg did. On the way home.”

I grinned, feeling warmth in my chest, “Really?”

Eve nodded, “I had to drive.”

This caused me to burst out laughing, the high-pitched sound filling my ears to the point of embarrassment, but at the same time, a warm feeling spread from my chest to my entire body.

Was I actually laughing at one of Eve’s jokes?

Eve smiled, “Wow. That serum actually gave you a decent sense of humour. So are you going to come to the store with me?”

The laughter quickly left my body, the air sucked out like a fierce punch to the gut. “Won’t it be weird though? If I’m trying on stuff from the boys section?”

Eve frowned gently, “Well it shouldn’t matter, right? You’re not really a girl. Plus, not all girls like pink and unicorns and rainbows or whatever. I had a friend growing up who liked jeans and t-shirts. The only time I ever saw her in a dress was probably senior prom. Why do you even care about this kind of stuff? No one is forcing you or even asking you to dress in a way that might make you feel uncomfortable.”

She cleared her throat gently, “Especially me.”

A little smile appeared, “I guess Mrs. Feinstein talked to you about that, right?”

Eve nodded, “Anyway, you really should come. It’s going to get really hot in about a month. Plus, Mrs. Feinstein is going to think we are really poor if you are always wearing the same clothes.”

“But we’ll shop in the boys section? Promise?”

Eve looked down at me with growing concern, “Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever will make you feel comfortable. I promise, Ryan.”

I needed Eve to keep her promise. Ever since feeling genuinely pretty while wearing a dress, I had been extremely careful to stay away from anything frilly, lacy or sparkly. The dresses I brought from the studio were hidden at the bottom of the closet adjacent to the front door and would hopefully never again see the light of day. The dress, which birthed the word pretty into my vocabulary, was hanging in Eve and Greg’s closet, ready for another fake birthday party or apology.

As forthcoming as I had been with Eve lately, and especially in the last few days, I wasn’t about to tell her that a part of me desperately wanted to shop in the girls section. I wanted to be the girl who was called pretty by the woman in the elevator. The one who was made to feel beautiful. And I wanted to hear the words again and again. It was the same part that threw a fit whenever the subject of hair cutting came up, and, strangely, also the one who thought shopping in the boys section would be weird.

It was made worse, however, by the girls I had met, but most of all by my mindset. While I was telling myself that I didn’t want to look like a fag, that same part, the one ingrained with the machismo of slick-talking gangsters and a father who expected his son to be like him, was inundated with images of the perfect girl- slim, long haired and feminine wearing dresses and skirts.

While I knew who I was, because of my body, the thing inside me that wanted to be a pretty little girl with long beautiful hair had an ally. It was difficult to argue with myself, internally screaming pussy at the mere thought of a dress when I had the perfect body for it and believed that skirts were the ultimate and most attractive expression of femininity.

I looked at Eve with what I hoped were steely eyes, “OK. Let’s go.”

***

Since we weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the outlet malls were the best bet because almost everything would be on clearance. My mom used to drag me to outlet malls for the same reason. I always thought my dad had a pretty important job in the army, but we never seemed to have enough money to buy the things I really wanted. I never realized just how poor we were until going to my friend’s house just after Christmas- the one with all the video game systems. Holy fuck did he get a lot of shit.

Where I got a Batman action figure, this kid got the Batman and the Batcave action playset, the one that transformed into Wayne Manor and cost probably like 150$. I got two packs of football cards, and this kid got three full sets. Not to mention, every single blockbuster video game for every system. I couldn’t understand it either because they lived in the same army base housing that we did, which usually consisted of shitty townhouses. I heard they’d got better in recent years, but in the late nineties, they sucked- cramped, no backyard and with paper-thin walls.

I asked my mom why we couldn’t live in a nice house, and she said that it was because we moved too often. Later on, I found out that most banks didn’t give one-year mortgages, and with the base housing available, it just made financial sense I guess. Still, it sucked being in such tight quarters with my mom. At least we had a garage, where my dad and I could just work on his Mustang for hours without being bothered.

We turned into an enormous parking lot, easily the size of three football fields placed side-by-side. The stores themselves were neatly placed at the perimeter of the mass of concrete. Walking along the sidewalk, I saw mostly women pushing baby carriages. Although, along an opposite walkway, a group of old people blocked the sidewalk, moving at a leisurely pace and forcing the faster moving mothers to leave the sidewalk to go around them. I could see more seniors streaming out of three different tour buses. So, despite the amount of people, Eve had little trouble finding a parking space.

I wasn’t sure if Eve realized it or not, but she had chosen a spot directly in front of the Disney store. Was she doing this on purpose to test my willpower? While Eve undid her seatbelt and slung her purse over her shoulder, I was transfixed by the store display. The Frozen dress-up set, the same one from the commercial, was part of the window display. A lucky mannequin wore a blue and white dress with the two sisters, Anna and Elsa, stitched onto the front. Best of all, however, was the practically glowing ice palace, where the pretty Elsa doll looked out onto her kingdom of snow of ice. The palace was obviously plastic, but it looked so real. My imagination turned the hard plastic into a shimmering crystalized wonder.

I had to have it.

I wanted it more than anything in the world.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, about that Ryan.”

With a rapid click and shift, Eve buckled her seatbelt again and quickly reversed out of the parking spot. My phone was buzzing, but I ignored it. Even as we pulled away, even as the palace turned into a speck, my eyes never left the object. When it was completely gone from view, the image of the palace, with a dozen different colours reflecting from the glimmering surface, was burned into my mind.

“There. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

Eve had stopped in front of a Bed, Bath and Beyond, which even before my transformation I would have found terminally boring. I felt both relieved and saddened to be so far away from something that for a few short seconds I wanted more than a cure to my condition. Saddened, because I loved that my heart raced with excitement at the prospect of even being near to something so legitimately incredible, and relieved- for obvious reasons. We had no reason to go into the Disney store.

Plus, Eve was going to keep me away from the clothing. I could just hold her hand and she would pull me away, pull me toward a world of muted colours, browns, greys and dark blues.

Eve said, “You can do this, Ryan. Just fight it. Don’t be what the serum wants you to be.”

Could she see the conflict in my features? My carefully built façade, the one that hid emotions behind a cock-sure grin, was crumbling. Fuck. Was I really going to need to rely on Eve so much during a simple shopping trip? Images of Emma and Sophia in their dresses, in the pretty purples and pinks entered my mind, as well as serious doubts. Would they know I was wearing boys clothes? Would they make fun of me?

Eve’s phone rang in her purse, but she ignored it. The ring tone was some obnoxious dance song.

No, no. It wouldn’t matter. Why the fuck did I care how two little girls would see me? It was bullshit and nothing more- the serum playing games with my head, making me think that their acceptance and being exactly like them was vital.

I took a deep breath. “OK. I’m ready.” I was going to show the serum that it couldn’t fuck with me.

We went into the first store, and I marched toward the clothes section for boys. I picked out shorts and shirts, tried them on and didn’t even look at anyone. For those fifteen minutes, I managed to stay completely focused. Eve’s phone went off in her purse again as we left the store. Since I didn’t have pockets large enough to accommodate my ‘phablet’, I had to leave mine in the car. I wasn’t about to carry a fucking purse. Plus, it would have looked weird, like I was trying to be all grown up. Kids had backpacks with cartoon characters on them, but that wasn’t happening either.

Eve was unable to ignore the sales, and with so many clothing stores, there were a lot of sales. Eve wasn’t usually the type to go all crazy stereotypical, “oh my god” shopping, but she had her moments, especially when shoes were on sale.

“Just five minutes in there, I promise.”

I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t stay in the car. Kids my age didn’t stay in the car alone. If they did, I’m sure someone would call the police, acting like that woman on the bus who forced the driver to try and walk me to what I thought was Greg’s apartment.

Instead, they were dragged into stores, waiting for parents as they tried on clothes, or in Eve’s case shoes. Even if it had been a lingerie store- not that I wanted to think of Eve in French cut panties, a push-up bra and garters- I wouldn’t have been excited. The scantily clad women posing in front of mirrors, some with perfectly rounded, toned asses and flat, trim stomachs, would do nothing to stir my interest.

“Whatever.”

Eve sighed lightly, “Two minutes. I just want to see if they have these sandals in yellow.”

I rolled my eyes, “Why do you need two pairs of the same sandals?”

Eve smirked, “Why do you need to keep buying the same video game? How many variations do you need on the theme of guns shoot kill?”

I said, “Well they all play differently. Gears plays way differently from Halo or Call of Duty.”

Eve nodded, “Right. Well to me they all look the same. And come on, Ryan. How long did you date Hannah? She had to have more than one pair of shoes. Girls- well people, people buy different shoes to match. I have this cute top ...”

I raised my head to the sky, closed my eyes and released a deep sigh, “I’m sorry I asked. Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“Hang on, my phone is ringing again. Damn, it’s Greg. And I’ve missed ten calls from him and three messages.”

“Hello? Greg, slow down. What are you talking about? Yeah we’re just at the outlets. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

“What? Are you serious? Well yeah he’s right here. OK. OK. We’ll leave right now.” I listened to the brief conversation with growing annoyance. It obviously involved me somehow, and like their bedroom discussions, I wasn’t an active participant.

I barked, “What’s he saying? What the fuck is up, Eve?”

I had wanted to sound irritated, but lacking the gruff tone and power of my male voice, my words swung upwards in a whiney lilt, which caused immediate embarrassment. As an actor, I had been able to choose my tone of voice to meet the needs of the scene. My vocal chords were tempered, focused tools of the craft, but now, when with even a hint of emotion, my defences, calm- cool- resolved- they were battered.

Eve looked genuinely spooked, her eyes darting in a hundred directions at once. A group of old people sauntered toward us, and Eve snatched my hand and pulled me into the car, but this time, she pulled me into the back seat.

My patience, which wasn’t fantastic before, had become almost non-existent since the change. I stayed in the front seat. I screamed, “Fuck you, Eve! You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on! I’m not sitting in the back either. What gives, Eve?”

Eve said sternly, “Put your seatbelt on, now. We have to get out of here. And you shrieking at me like a brat isn’t going to help our situation any.”

I replied, “Sure, and you looking around like you think there’s a sniper on us is really helping things I’m sure. What the hell is happening, Eve? Is it something about the studio? Ms. Daniels? Is she here?”

My imagination immediately began filling in the blanks. Ms. Daniels, like some reincarnated horror movie villain, was back, and she was looking for her sweet Kaylee. Fear didn’t merely creep into my brain, it stabbed it, piercing any rational thought.

Eve looked back at me with wide eyes. “Sorry, OK. Here. Just look at this link Greg sent me.”

She handed me her phone, just as I started to shake. I held the device unsteadily, as images of Ms. Daniels holding my head underwater played in my mind. Eventually, she pulled Kaylee away from the drowned, bloated body of Ryan Sullivan. The fear entered every fibre of my being as my breathing took on a staccato rhythm, while my chest tightened to the point where it felt like invisible hands were trying to collapse it.

Eve shook her head and took the phone from my shaking hands. “Ms. Daniels isn’t here.” Eve’s words had an immediate calming effect. I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. “She’s…well from what you told me. She’s in the video, and it’s from the studio. She looks like she’s about twelve or thirteen. And she’s holding this baby in her arms. The kids from the studio that you described are taken out of there by child protection services.”

I said, “So what? We already knew that. And we told the media about it. Only the trash papers ran the story.”

Eve said gently, “Well, it’s- look at that link. It’s from CNN. And they don’t mention anything about the serum or Dr. Travers. It’s all about a greedy studio using orphans to get around paying child actors fair salaries under that new law. The police have laid charges on Tracy. She’s being blamed for the whole thing.”

I nodded slowly, “OK. But I was hiding in a car. And I waited for everyone to leave before I got out. I mean I’m not really surprised they are putting all this on Tracy. They can’t exactly put it on Travers or Daniels. It’s pretty obvious who the baby is, considering how many times…” I bit my lip gently as the scene from the real-life horror movie replayed- the needles piercing skin, jabbing into bone, eliciting inhuman howls of pain.

“You don’t understand, Ryan. Here.”

Eve turned her phone around so I could see the display. Plastered over the front page of CNN’s site was a picture of a pretty little blonde girl with two cute pigtails. A human-sized orange hippo had his paw on the girl’s shoulder while she smiled at the camera. Above the photo in massive capital letters was the following:

KAYLEE SMITH MISSING- POLICE SEARCH FOR SIX-YEAR OLD AS FORMER CAPTOR FACES LENGTHY JAIL SENTENCE IF CONVICTED

***

“Are you guys, OK? Were you followed?”

“Yeah. There’s a SWAT team and black helicopters waiting outside. Come on, man. Stop acting like a fucking pussy. No one has probably even made the connection. There’s tons of little girls out there who look like Kaylee. And because Travers and Daniels are so screwed up, it’s not like they are going to tell anyone who I actually am. So there’s no link to you guys.”

Greg was frantic. He had put all the blinds down in the apartment. A dozen newspapers were scattered over the floor. The young man held a coffee cup between two shaking hands as he stared intently at a computer screen. The two used coffee filters on the kitchen counter told the story of man who needed to fucking pull it together.

Greg put the coffee down and ran to Eve’s side, bringing her into a fierce hug. “You were freaking me out when you weren’t answering your phone. I thought someone had recognized Ryan and you’d been arrested.”

Eve returned the hug, “It’s OK, Greg. I really don’t think anyone paid attention to us at the outlets. We just kind of blended in.”

Greg nodded, looking tremendously relieved, “The story is all over the news. I just-just don’t get why it broke now. Tracy’s been in custody for months. I didn’t think the police could just keep you locked up without saying what you did wrong.”

Eve replied, “Well based on what I read, it looks like some documents were leaked to the media. I’m guessing that it was hidden originally to protect the involvement of the major players. It does seem suspicious that they would choose now to leak the info though.”

I said, “Not to side with Mr. Paranoid here, but he’s kind of got a point. It’s pretty obvious that they are trying to tie up the loose end- me. They haven’t been able to find me, so now they are hoping they can just use someone else to do it. So they just come up with the story that makes the most sense. They aren’t going to go with the serum because it’s not believable. Maybe they are charging Tracy now hoping she will tell them where I am.”

Eve said, “That all makes sense, but if this is the government, then they know we moved. The people who did this to you know who we are. They sent Greg e-mails from your phone. So why haven’t they just shown up here to take you away?”

I shrugged my shoulders, and moments later, the conversation fizzled. None of us had answers to the problem at hand, other than keeping our respective mouths shut, but I knew that the discussion for Greg and Eve was hardly over. Considering they would be discussing my fate, I didn’t feel bad about sliding my phone underneath their bedroom door and recording the whole thing. Thankfully, their bed faced away from the door, so they would never see the “bug” I planted.

Eventually, I saw the light go out and moved to quickly retrieve my phone. Less than a minute later, I was sitting on the couch with my ear buds in listening to every word they had said about me.

“What are we going to do now, Eve? What if someone recognizes Ryan?”

“We make sure that doesn’t happen. Until we figure out what to do, he shouldn’t leave the house. Even for a minute.”

“Doesn’t that look really suspicious? And what are we going to do about Mrs. Feinstein? It’s going to look really weird if we just decide to keep Ryan home. He’s not exactly good at staying quiet either.”

“Alright. Yeah, you’re right. He should keep going to Mrs. Feinstein’s place in the afternoon.”

“But Eve that doesn’t fix things. It’s almost the end of the school year. Ryan will have to go to Feinstein’s full time. Or you’re going to have to start bringing him to the hospital. Either way it’s definitely going to make things a lot riskier. We have to think about what might happen if someone does recognize him.”

“Well we are the ones that took him in. He said he was lost or something. We were protecting him.”

“So, a six year old girl comes to our door saying she is lost. Or that she’s run away from an evil studio. Why didn’t we call the police? And what if they know we went into the studio?”

“Because we believed her. We couldn’t trust anyone involved, not until we found out the truth. And we found the truth in the studio, so we decided to keep her safe until…until we could figure out what to do.”

“I don’t know about that, Eve. The more I think about it- the more I think- we should-“

“What, Greg? Tell someone? Tell the police? You heard what Ryan said. The government knows about this. Or at least someone in the government does. They are going to try and cover it up by putting all the blame on Tracy and erasing Ryan. I don’t know what the answer is right now, but we can’t tell anyone.”

“I’m a bit worried you aren’t seeing things clearly, Eve. I know you care about him. And, I mean it’s obvious that something has happened between the two of you to change your relationship- but I’m not sure this is the right way to go. I want to protect him as much as you do, but it’s not simple. For one, we aren’t even his real parents. And it’s not like we can just adopt him.”

“Why not?”

I slowly reached down and paused the sound recording app, while my jaw tried to staple itself to the floor. I plucked the buds from my ears and closed my eyes, as my phone fell from my grasp, wedging itself firmly in between the couch cushions of my makeshift bed.

A warm feeling entered my body, similar to how I felt when Eve helped me with my hair, or when she rubbed sun screen on my shoulders at the beach- or when she just smiled at me. It was being tucked in at night, kissed on the cheek and saved from the monsters that lived under the bed.

It was being loved.

But- could all of it exist while being Ryan Sullivan?

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 19

“Breakfast! Breakfast is ready, baby girl!” A young woman, dressed as a nurse, gently stirred a pot of oatmeal. She smiled and reached over the stove toward the spice rack, quickly adding a dash of cinnamon to the pot.

Moments later, a bleary eyed little girl entered the kitchen. A pair of shiny black ballet flats tromped across the floor toward the kitchen table, neither graceful nor poised. Twin blonde pigtails bobbed as the girl pulled herself onto a chair, her legs, encased in smooth white stockings, dangled just above the floor.

“Fix your skirt, baby girl.”

“Mommy, don’t call me that. Kids make fun of me. Like at the beach. They called me a baby.”

The young woman leaned down and gently kissed the little girl’s head. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I’ve called you that for so long it’s hard for Mommy to change. How about Mademoiselle Kaylee?” The woman gently pulled the girl’s skirt down, so that it covered her knees. The pink and purple floral patterned skirt flared outward. It perfectly matched the sleeveless striped blouse emblazoned with the girl’s favourite Disney twosome.

The little girl giggled, “No! That’s bad too.” A second later, the girl adopted a severe look, with pursed mouth and gently furrowed brows, she said, “I’m in first grade now, Mommy. Can’t you just call me, Kaylee?”

The young woman poured oatmeal into a bowl and added some sliced banana and strawberries to the mix. She set a faded pink plastic beside the girl. The utensil was once adorned with pretty Disney princesses, however; the countless dishwasher loads had chipped away at the images, leaving the characters unrecognizable.

“No. I don’t wanna eat with that spoon. I want a metal one.” Again, the young woman couldn’t help but smile. However, as she deposited the grown-up spoon next to her daughter, she couldn’t contain a soft sigh.

“I want the marsha mellos that daddy eats in his cereal.”

The young woman shook her head, “Nope. But you can have a little bit of brown sugar. Just a bit for taste.”

A careful teaspoon dropped a dollop of brown sugar, and the girl rapidly dug into her breakfast.

“Slow down, Kaylee. The school’s not going to fly off to the moon while you eat breakfast.”

The little girl giggled, but this laughter ended with a light yet discernible snort. “You’re funny, Mommy.”

The young woman tousled the little girl’s hair, “I know, baby girl.”

After breakfast, the young woman walked the little girl out to the bus stop. Young children laughed, while older looked on with a sense of dread. Anxious parents stood, some holding the hands of their children, others allowing a measure of space- but most only a foot. Soon enough, a bright yellow school bus peaked over the tall hill at the end of a cull-de-sac with row upon row of nouveau-style brick houses.

The school bus door swung open, while nervous parents of kindergartners hugged them as if it was their last day on earth. The young woman reached out, but the girl with the twin pigtails was already lining up to get on the bus.

The young girl looked back at the young woman and waved happily, but seeing the woman with downcast eyes and slouched shoulders, she quickly jumped into her arms.

“It’ll be OK, Mommy. I’ll see you and daddy tonight.”

A tiny tear leaked from the young woman’s eyes. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

The little girl broke the embrace and hopped onto the school bus. She waved happily from a window seat.

I watched the entire display. It was sort of like a video game with a first-person perspective, but instead of controlling it, I was just along for the ride. I couldn’t describe it as a movie, as they only engaged two senses. The smell of cinnamon in the oatmeal and the light perfume, a sweet almost airy flavour that screamed housewife who wasn’t getting any- it was all too real.

But this was nothing like the sudden warmth I felt when the little girl hugged her mother. The warmth was not heat, unlike a blanket covering a shivering form, it elicited a response from my heart. I knew heartache, at least as long it took for me to find another girl, and another, to fill the void left by Hannah, but this was something else entirely.

My heart, my chest, my brain- everything was filled to bursting with an overwhelming sense of love- to give and receive it in an immeasurable fashion. The only thing similar to it was the intense, incredible high I got from sex, but it wasn’t lust, the hard wrenching of parts, stares and longing, until the moment of climax, and then nothing- no, it was something real. Lasting.

And that’s why it scared the fuck out of me. Because it didn’t exist. To me it had to be the serum, and I was staring at my future if I embraced this world.

The moment I realized this, the dream turned to a nightmare. The idyllic image persisted, the little girl on the bus, chatting happily with friends, excitement about a new school year- it was all a farce. A creation of the serum.

And somehow, as I entered a half-dreaming state, the memory of Eve and Greg’s conversation crept within, and I screamed.

“Ryan! Are you OK?” Soft hands were on my naked back. California had to be going through one of the worst heat waves in history, which had resulted in a serious drought and multiple wildfires, but Eve and Greg wouldn’t splurge on an 80$ air conditioner from Wal-Mart. So, I slept in shorts.

I retreated from the touch, quickly scrambling to other side of the couch. My eyes were so wide they felt dilated.

“Ryan, what’s wrong? You don’t look good.” There was genuine concern in her voice. She sounded exactly like she had in the dream.

“How many times have we been over this? Don’t fucking treat me like that. You know it fucks with my head.”

“Is this about the news, Ryan? The whole thing with the studio and Tracy?” Eve kept her distance from me, but it wasn’t far enough. I wanted about a two state separation between us- or even better- the entire Midwest.

“All this shit about adopting me. And making me go to school. It’s bullshit, Eve. You know I can’t be around kids. Is that what you want, so you can just stop dealing with me? So I’ll be your little fucking baby girl?”

Eve flicked on the kitchen light and then took a position at the opposite end of the couch. She sighed heavily, “Were you standing at our door with a glass pressed to your ear?”

I shook my head fiercely, “Fuck, no. What is this the seventies? You know our phones are basically the perfect bugs, right? Anyway, I want to know what you two are planning to do. But there’s no fucking way I’m going to school.”

Eve frowned, “I guess I’ll kind of ignore the whole spying and trust thing because we should have had the conversation with you. So yeah, we talked a bit about trying to adopt you. Greg mentioned school, but I shot him down. I said we would figure out a way to keep you home. We have no intention of sending you to school.”

“That’s bullshit, Eve. I know that you’re lying. You’re going to send me to school to erase me because you don’t want to deal with me. You seemed really happy about it too. I’m telling you that I’m not going. So what’s the plan, you going to just casually forget to book off a Wednesday or two and leave me with Emma and Sophia and by September I’ll be all ready to go?”

The frown on Eve’s face deepened, but her jaw also jutted slightly. She grit her teeth back and forth, until another heavy sigh escaped from her body, setting the entire structure in motion. “Ryan. I’m not even sure where to begin. You recorded our conversation, so you know that none of what you are saying is true. I’m just- I’m not sure what to tell you.”

I expected her to lash out, to absolutely lose her shit at being called a liar, but she just looked at me with serious concern.

“What the fuck, Eve? Don’t you have anything to say about this? It’s true isn’t it?”

Eve slowly shook her head, “No, Ryan. None of it is true. You know how I feel about our situation. I don’t want to be your mother, and as much as a ‘delight’ as you can be, I don’t want you as my ‘baby girl’ either. The adoption is to protect you, so we have an actual right to keep you. And it’s also to make certain that the only person who knows the truth, who experienced the plot first hand is able to tell their story.”

Before I had a chance to answer, Eve asked me, “What was your dream about?”

I blinked and replied, “School. And you, and we were in a big house. You made breakfast for me. It was- it was the first day of school- and-“

I remembered Eve telling Greg a boring story about some kid at the hospital. She was convinced that a snake was in her bed, slithering between the sheets towards its prey- the little girl who was terrified of snakes. She woke crying, more like bawling to the point of being inconsolable actually. Based on the description the girl gave, it was obvious she had a dream and repeated viewings of the Jungle Book may not have been a good idea. Still, Eve checked the bed for a massive boa constrictor, along with the closet, the curtains, and even the bathtub- but there was no sign of it, but still, the girl believed it was there, waiting in the shadows for her to go to sleep. The solution? Eve actually switched her room for the night.

I was only half paying attention at the time, but it made me think of something that happened to me as a kid. Instead of a snake, it involved the annual car show. My dad and I went each year, but that year he couldn’t go, so my mom was going to take me. I was still pretty young, so I didn’t really care, but what I did care about was when she told me we couldn’t go. She insisted we could still go, but I had a hard time trusting her. Of course, it was all a dream- a nightmare world where my mom locked me in my room while all my friends got to see the new Mustangs and supercars.

“It’s just a dream, honey. I promise we’ll still go tomorrow.” And we did.

Realization struck me like the moment you know you are lifting too heavy, that embarrassing second when you have to slowly and sometimes painfully lower the weight and reduce the load on the machine or the barbell.

Eve said nothing. She turned from me, slowly shaking her head.

I felt my cheeks burn as I cleared my throat lightly, “OK. So- maybe I owe you an apology.”

Eve nodded, “Greg and I are on your side, Ryan. But we have to trust each other. That means no more recording our conversations.” I opened my mouth, but once again, Eve quickly jumped in, “And we’ll involve you more when we are talking about you specifically. You’re right, Ryan. You should have a say in all this. I mean if you don’t want to be adopted, we can try and figure something else out. But if the government finds you, we won’t be able to do anything if they take you away. We don’t have any right to you.”

I asked, “If you start the adoption process aren’t you basically telling the feds exactly where I am?”

Eve shrugged gently, “Yes. It’s definitely a risk. But I brought this up before. They know exactly who you were in contact with before coming to the studio. My driver’s licence has our new address on it. They have to know where you are, or at least have a pretty good clue. But there is something keeping them from making a move.”

“If we start the adoption process, and we make it as public as possible- I’m talking about a social media blitz. Then it’s all public, how we found you, protected you and trusted you. And how we learned the truth in the studio. Because the story has already gone public, it’ll be impossible for the government to cover it up or bury it in the National Enquirer. They’ll have to let us adopt you. It’s the perfect story.”

I replied, “I think you’ve been watching too many rom-coms. Sometimes there isn’t a happy ending. What if the adoption doesn’t work, and I end up in an orphanage?”

Eve looked at me with a frightening seriousness, and then, she smiled at me like the happy housewife from my dream, “Don’t worry, it will.”

***

“You need to man up and tell your girlfriend to cut this shit out. She’s fucking with my head. First she says she wants nothing to do with me, then- then she’s looking at me like-“

Greg said quietly, “Ms. Daniels.” He sat across from me at the kitchen table. Usually, we would have a discussion like this while I whipped his ass at Halo, but with my controller still broken, the table was the best option. The table was a typical do-it-yourself Allen key number. The hard wooden seat was uncomfortable and my feet, as with most chairs, didn’t touch the floor, but I associated the simple piece of furniture with good memories, so I was content to sit down.

The table had dozens of small grooves and nicks laid over the surface. To most, the slight damage meant nothing, but to me, it was Saturday nights getting ready for the bar, slamming down shot glasses while Greg sipped light beer. I liked the alcohol coursing through my system, it gave me an impenetrable confidence, a state of mind that could face rejection, angry boyfriends- anything.

We talked about everything at that table- cars, girls, our lives and futures. Greg even got me to open up about my mom once. Once. Some shit about how I couldn’t face the fact my dad was gone, and my mom was the only real family I had left. How she cared about me and missed me. It was easy for Greg- he was such a fucking momma’s boy, he was probably sucking tit till he was seven. I knew that she hated me, and that’s all that mattered. There was no going back to that, especially now.

“Like if I had anywhere else to go. I’d be fucking out of here. Can’t you talk to her? Tell her she’s acting crazy?”

Greg sighed, “It’s delicate right now. I’ve really tried to explain that maybe she isn’t seeing things clearly. I mean we aren’t going to adopt you.” He grinned, “Could you imagine that? I mean, I’d be your fucking dad, man. Your dad.”

I nodded, “Yeah, but everyone would know that I’m adopted obviously.”

Greg asked, “Why’s that?”

I smirked, “Because you are ugly as fuck.”

Greg shook his head slowly, “Damn. I really walked into that one. Anyway, like I said- I’m working on her, but I’m starting to think that it is the serum. Didn’t you say that Daniels eventually started acting strange around you?”

I leaned back slightly in the chair, while pushing my feet against the side of the table. The heavy wooden chair tilted backwards gently, until I released the pressure and caused it to thud against the floor. I used to do the same all the time as an adult, except I would tilt with my feet firmly planted on the floor.

“Travers had been giving her the same serum. But it was different- it made her want kids. Eventually, it made her completely crazy. Where she seemed to legitimately think that I was her real daughter. She started to care less and less about the show and more about taking Ashley and me away.”

Greg smiled, looking thoughtful suddenly. “Wow. That’s the most you’ve told me about the studio since you escaped. I guess it’s getting easier to talk about it?”

I sighed heavily, “For fuck’s sake, man- you and Eve, you are made for each other. I thought we were just shooting the shit here. Just like we used to. Don’t turn this into some bullshit counselling session. You know what. Get the Jack. I’m going to show you that even looking like this, that I can drink you under the fucking table. And by that I mean, I bet I can do one. And like usual, you’ll look like you swallowed a fucking rotting lemon. Like half vomit face and half what I’m guessing your sex face looks like.” I modelled the face, shooting my eyebrows to the sky, wrenching my jaw to the side and forming a disgusted frown, all the while squinting like someone letting piercing light into the eyes of a hangover victim.

Greg looked at me sceptically, “You can’t even drink a cup of coffee. Or a latte with more whipped cream than coffee. Look I get it, you’re kind of freaking out because of Eve and what you’ve been feeling. It’s scary.”

He smiled, “Besides, we’ve only got one bathroom.”

I said, “I think you’re just scared of your girlfriend. Look, she doesn’t have to know. She’s at work for 12 fucking hours. I know what’s going to happen anyway, you’ll sniff the stuff, bring it to your mouth. Then, you’ll hold your nose and try to swallow it. At that point, you’ll remember you are a giant pussy, and you’ll set it down.”

I smirked, “Come on, she’s not even here, and she’s got you by the balls.”

I saw a rare thing. Greg’s face reddened, his jawline, usually hidden behind slightly chubby features, firmed, while his eyes took on a frightful intensity. It had only happened one other time. After a fight between him and Eve, I tried to take him out to get his mind off her. I made the mistake of telling him that he could do better than Eve and that there were girls way hotter at the club. He spent the next hour telling me how wrong I was. I honestly would have preferred a punch in the face.

Greg opened the cupboard underneath the sink and proceeded to slam a dusty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table, adding another notch to the table. He pulled down two tumblers, giving one to me and setting one across the table for himself. I peered at the glass in front of me, marvelling at its size.

It was enormous.

I was forced to hold the whiskey glass with two firm hands, essentially cradling it. Jack Daniels was a sipping whiskey. A strong hand would raise the glass to waiting lips, and then return it to its spot on the table. That was how I watched my dad do it. It was a shoot-the-shit kind of drink, but it was also an endurance test- one Greg had failed multiple times.

Greg, still red faced, filled both glasses nearly to the brim. Damn. Greg wasn’t even going to try and mix his with cola or even put ice in it to water it down? He was pissed, like when Duke would come home from the vet. He was always in a terrible mood immediately after, sitting on the couch with a look of absolute betrayal. He would even growl at my dad, curling up his lip, looking like some deranged Elvis impersonator. In a lot of ways, Greg reminded me of my old dog- fiercely loyal, easily swayed, but most importantly- forgiving. The next day, Duke had forgotten all about the horrors of the vet. He was back to his slobbery self.

I felt a lump form in my throat, as I moved my tongue back and forth, desperately trying to say something. Why did I feel so bad? I knew Greg would forgive me, but in that moment, the fact that he was angry with me caused my little chest to tighten. I stared at the glass of Jack in front of me, the golden coppery liquid swirled, threatening to escape over the sides. The glass seemed larger than seconds ago. I could swear that it was the size of my head now.

Neither of us said a word. We both stared at our glasses, like cowboys staring each other down before a quick draw.

Greg was the first to take a sip. It was a tiny one, barely a mouthful. The moment it entered his mouth, Greg’s shoulders rose, nearly reaching his ears. His head began to shake, moving back and forth comically, in a rapid ‘no’ gesture. Meanwhile, his tongue left his mouth, seemingly trying to move as far away from the sour mash as possible.

I laughed loudly, “See. Fucking pussy. That wasn’t even a sip.”

Greg narrowed his eyes, “Let’s see you take one, man. And at least I’m not the one giggling like I’m at my first sleepover.”

I replied, “What the fuck, man? I don’t sound anything like that.”

Greg, who had recovered from his first sip, was going for another, “You sound exactly like Jessica’s niece. Exactly.” This was the trash talking part of game. I always won because I could drink more, but I hadn’t even taken a sip, and…I was surprisingly disturbed by Greg’s comment. Was it true? How come I couldn’t hear it? I knew it had happened before, but only when I really stopped trying to be Ryan.

I almost retorted with, “Do not!” Instead, however, I firmly gripped the whiskey glass and brought it to my waiting lips. As it reached my lips, the smell of it, or rather the stench entered my nostrils. Normally, Jack smells like a campfire, charred wood and charcoal briquettes. It always reminded me of camping, especially hunting trips with my dad. There was usually a mixture of something sweet, almost like honey mixed with blueberries, but it was faint.

Now however, everything that I had enjoyed about the smell of the drink was suddenly taken to the extreme- it smelled disgusting, like an old sock drenched in rubbing alcohol and combined with an entire beehive worth of honey. Just like I couldn’t take coffee, level two spices at La Casa- I wouldn’t even be able to sip the Jack.

Greg looked at me with pity, but this was mixed with the lingering taste of Jack, which caused his mouth to sour every few moments. “You don’t have to do this, Ryan. I’m sorry about the shit I said to you. I know you are sensitive to stuff like that since your change.”

I took a large mouthful of whiskey, immediately regretting it, but at least, I had taken more than Greg. I wasn’t going to allow him to bury me in sympathy. Our relationship didn’t work like that. Sure, Duke would lay next to me when I had the flu, his soft fur and the cold bathroom tiles allowing a small bit of comfort in between puking sessions. As my mom would say, it was self-inflicted, so she had no sympathy for me, but Duke didn’t care. But I never got the sense that he was sympathizing with my condition. Could dogs actually feel bad for someone? He was just there because he knew I was feeling like shit.

The moment someone sympathizes with you, is the moment you lose all your power. Sympathy had its place- like completely untrue or embellished sob stories that worked great in attracting the girls who treated the men in their life as repair projects, but genuine sympathy is weakness. The person who feels it says, “Their situation sucks. Glad my life isn’t like that.” It’s like the commercials they play of starving kids around Christmas. We feel bad for them, but they don’t get any power from that, except maybe a few more meals after the holidays when the donations come in. In fact, it makes us feel better about our lives because at least we aren’t as bad off as they are.

So, Greg feeling that way toward me was the beginning of the end. If I was in such a state that Greg felt superior to me, I was royally fucked. So, even as the whiskey burned my throat, even as the flavour of burnt wood and charcoal set my taste buds on fire, I smiled because Greg watched on in absolutely shock.

“Y-You really didn’t have to do that.”

The aftertaste was so horrible that I felt my lip curl upward, my face looking like I had just taken a massive bite of a lemon. My insides continued to burn, while my stomach did belly flop after belly flop. It was a little like being inside an elevator that shot up and down at incredible speeds.

But, I took another sip, this one larger than the first. So much, in fact, that the liquid dribbled from my lips, but I still managed to swallow most of it.

“OK. OK. Ryan, you win. Just- I mean you’re fucking six years old. You’re gonna kill yourself.”

Greg frantically reached for the tumbler, taking it from my shaking hands. I didn’t want to die. That was the coward’s way out. My dad would be kicking my ass in the afterlife if I did that. I had proven my point, and that was all that mattered. I wasn’t even upset that Greg had taken the glass away. It’s not like I could have taken another sip without my body saying enough was enough and repelling the liquid like the pea soup scene from the Exorcist.

Plus, Greg would think twice about showing me any sympathy, and if I could swallow something that tasted so horrible, maybe El Casa’s flaming enchiladas were in my future. It made me think that I had control for once, that the incident at the beach with the girls, the sudden reading problem and the fact I still desperately wanted the Elsa Frozen Castle Playset, dolls sold separately, were isolated one-offs.

***

“Congratulations, stupid- you won the pissing contest. Or was it a different kind of contest?”

There was amusement in Eve’s voice, the words dancing, bobbing and weaving toward my fractured pride and striking the equivalent in boxing to a brutal gut punch. My head throbbed, feeling like a thousand tiny hammers were plinking away on my skull, while a massive mallet made contact with my forehead. The room spun, the toilet bowl beneath me seeming like it was suddenly attached to the ceiling. My heart was a shitty compact car pushed to the limit, the entire frame buckling under pressure, and the engine pushing into the red. On top of this, I had the sickly feeling that the lasagna, which we had eaten for the third time this week was going to make a sudden reappearance…maybe the pea soup scene from the Exorcist would fit better here.

“Fuck off, Eve.”

“What was the point of this, Ryan? Because you don’t look good at all. I’m actually really worried I’m going to have to bring you to the hospital. F-Fuck, Ryan. I thought we were actually getting somewhere. If you have to see a doctor, then it’s over. There’s no way the adoption will ever work.”

I wasn’t afraid to puke. It would get rid of the horrible burning in my stomach, and it wasn’t the first time. When you have an idiot friend who likes to experiment with drugs, and you are equally stupid sometimes, you puke your fucking guts out. As a kid, I also liked the buzz I got from beer, but I couldn’t hold it well at fourteen. So, as confident- unstoppable as it made me feel, the morning was a different story. My dad, who found me hunched over the bathtub of all things, laughed his ass off.

He said, “Ryan, why aren’t you using the toilet?”

I replied groggily, “It’s harder to miss.”

Of course, I had to clean out the bathtub later, because not everything went down. Thinking of the incident made me lurch forward. The whiskey wasn’t mingling well with the four types of cheese on the lasagna. My hair was in a messy yet puke-ready ponytail. I had actually done it myself, feeling a strange sense of pride, even though little tufts of hair escaped from the elastic like wayward springs. It was about time, and especially with how Eve and I acted around each other…I really needed to learn how to do it myself.

“How did you know anyway? Don’t tell me Greg told you. Fuck me.”

Eve replied firmly, “Of course he told me. Think about it. You could have alcohol poisoning. I’d be kicking his ass if the whiskey wasn’t already doing it for me. The idiot is on his way home on hopefully the worst bus ride of his life.”

She continued, “I can’t believe you goad him like that still. I really thought I got through to you when we talked in the car, but apparently it will take the monster of all hangovers to make you realize that maybe you need to grow up. And that’s if- if we don’t have to go to the hospital.”

I groaned, “Fuck, just leave me alone. I’d rather just watch the room spin than have to listen to this. I know you talked about trying to find out who I am, what makes me who I am beyond girls, booze and video games. But the only other thing I cared about was-“

And then it happened. I gripped the sides of the toilet, feeling a burning and bubbling sensation travel from my stomach to my throat. It had started with that sickly sensation, like thousands of spiders tickling my throat, and then came the wave as my stomach heaved.

In an instant, a comforting hand was on my back, but it was tentative, like fingers reaching for warmed up leftovers in the microwave. I heaved again, my stomach contracting painfully as more vomit sloshed into the toilet bowl. Surprisingly, the hand left. Eve continued to stand over me, but it was with clinical eyes. I was the belligerent patient who wanted nothing to do with their nurse, and Eve- she was just doing her job, minus the comfort. I wretched again, but the hand did not return to my back. Eve hovered over me like a concerned parent, but she kept a respectful distance- a distance I had asked for.

“Ryan, tell me- tell me what you meant. Before- you know the other thing that you cared about.” Eve’s voice wasn’t sweet, but there was genuine worry that she couldn’t hide. Still, it sounded like she was reading from a list, checking symptoms.

I groaned, “Acting. But I can tell you that I don’t exactly want to walk into a casting office looking like this. If I got a part, I’d probably be surrounded by fucking puppets, talking animals and a bunch of kids.”

Eve replied, “That’s not exactly true, but I get it. You aren’t ready- or might never be ready. My hope is that you won’t have to make that choice. Can you tell me what made you want to drink like that? A-Are you having any suicidal thoughts?” If there was any confusion before, it was immediately removed, like a set of fog lights piercing through roiling coils of mist on an early morning hunting trip- Eve was my nurse and nothing else.

It was obvious why I wanted her comfort, but it went beyond a simple hand on my back. I wanted Eve to gently stroke my head, like my mom did when I was sick as a kid. It was a good memory, despite the illness, same as bath time, PJs and then tuck-in-time. My mom was the one who always put me to bed. Even when my mom went out, my dad would just let me stay up and watch movies with him.

The vomiting stopped. I slinked onto the floor, practically slithering from the toilet. The bathroom tile felt unusually cold against my skin. Normally, it was pleasant- a nice break from the toilet, and it cooled down a body wracked with fever. Hangovers were, however, an entirely different beast.

“Ryan? Ryan? Come on, Ryan. Focus.”

A thermometer entered my mouth, and I instinctively let it rest underneath my tongue.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Even though it was scorching outside, I felt like I was inside the freezer at the Palace. A heavy woolen blanket was draped over my slight body, and then another. I snuggled underneath the linen, at the same time, feeling like my mind was fuzzy. Violent imagery of stabbing needles filled my senses, along with horrific screams, changing timbre from masculine bellows to the mewling of a helpless infant.

I took a long ragged breath. Click-clack-clack. Click-clack-clack Eve was typing furiously on her phone which vibrated incessantly.

“Ryan. Stay with me here. Keep talking. What are your favourite movies?”

I replied tiredly, “Goodfellas, Godfather Part 1, and um…” I wracked my brain for the third movie. It was a horror flick, but it still had detective elements, “Saw. The first one.”

Eve continued asking me very simple questions, my name, locations of some of the bases I grew up on, phone number, first girlfriend- questions which I answered with some difficulty. My body, which was swaddled with the thick woolen blankets, quickly warmed, but the warmth made me want to sleep.

Eve snapped her fingers in my face, and I bolted awake. Why couldn’t she just rub my back and hum soothingly. I steeled myself, screaming inwardly that Ryan Sullivan didn’t fight his hangovers by being coddled. No, after puking, he drank black coffee and ate cold pizza.

In this body, however, the little girl, who obviously couldn’t hold her booze, desperately wanted her mommy to make everything better. And finally, as the small girl whimpered, her body convulsing in dry heaves, her mommy placed a hand on her back and gently rubbed.

And while I tried to separate us, as I had done in the studio, simply playing the part of Kaylee, as Eve’s hand brought instant comfort and acted as a miraculous painkiller, I realized I was beginning to see the woman who I had once referred to as ‘fifteen pounds away from being hot’ as something else entirely. Something wonderful that could fix every problem in the world.

“Shh. Shh. It’s OK now, baby girl. You can close your eyes now.”

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

Chapter 20

I woke with a start, unsure if I had dreamed the last words spoken or if Eve had actually said them. Stretching my arms out, I quickly realized that instead of the somewhat lumpy faux leather couch, I was in Eve and Greg’s bed. The curtain were closed, but my phone, which rested by the bedside, quickly told me that it was early afternoon- nearly nine hours later.

My head buzzed in pain as a sliver of light crept through the thin curtains, which caused me to shut my eyes with the speed of a sprung mouse trap. I crept out into the living room and saw Eve sprawled out on my usual bed. However, unlike the couch in my former apartment, this one didn’t pull out. As I watched Eve sleep, a now familiar sense of warmth entered my body. I found myself immediately drawn to her, but the image of something else broke me from my reverie, nearly causing me to burst out laughing.

Greg lay sleeping on the floor in front of the couch. He looked tremendously uncomfortable, which caused me to stifle a giggle. My hand didn’t shoot up to my mouth or anything, but I felt a tickle in my throat. My imagination immediately took this information and dreamt up the notion that fairies were the cause of this, deftly trying to bring me to giggle while armed with feathers.

While pushing such ridiculous thoughts away, my mind took on a laser-like focus. Questions about last night had to be answered.

Whose idea was it to give me the bed?

Our living arrangements weren’t ideal. I was living out of one of Eve’s suitcases as I didn’t have a proper dresser. I had no privacy, except when I went to the washroom, and I spent each night on a couch that was more of a love seat. I was actually really surprised to wake up in the bed, considering I was the only who could sleep semi-comfortably on the couch.

It had to be Eve, but if this was the case, then she broke her promise to me- the same way she had last night when she stroked my back. She wasn’t supposed to treat me any differently, and there is no way in hell she ever would have given me her bed in order to sleep off a hangover. As traitorous as Greg had been in recently, he wouldn’t do it unless he thought it was absolutely necessary, like when he pried the whiskey from my hands.

I went back into the bedroom, intending to watch Netflix on my phone. I had been binge watching an L.A Noire detective series with supernatural horror elements. I started it after the disaster that was my last reading session with Mrs. Feinstein. I had to take my mind off of my lack of control and the fact that I was seemingly regressing, even though I was avoiding kids like…how I used to avoid serving kids at the Palace. I munched on a cold pop tart and settled in for the season finale.

But I couldn’t get into it. The events of last night kept playing in my head and the memory brought a sense of comfort and warmth. I put the subtitles on, trying to desperately lose myself in the drama, but my mind always returned to the familiar closeness.

It had been a long time since I felt like this. Hannah and my mom (when I was younger) brought out those feelings, and now apparently, so did Eve. I knew that the sensations were fabricated, that the serum had suddenly magnetized Eve, and I was flying toward her at break-neck speed.

And she had definitely called me “baby girl” last night. It felt too real to be a dream. It was her fault for being too weak to combat the effects of the serum. I flew into a sudden rage, my brain actually feeling like it was disconnected from a body that was struck with murderous intent. I was too small to really hurt her, but I could make her really, really angry.

So angry, that she wouldn’t want to ever rub my back or do anything for me ever again.

So angry, that she would never love me. And she would go back to treating me normally, like a guy who made jokes about her muffin top.

Next to the bed was a glass of water, likely put there to help me stave off dehydration. On the night stand lay Eve’s smart phone, the same model and make as mine.

I dumped it in the water, allowing it to fully submerge in the liquid. Then, I went back to my show, but immediate gnawing feelings of guilt kept me from enjoying it. I hadn’t even thought about the ramifications of the decision to destroy Eve’s device. All I wanted was for her to be mad at me.

I flipped from show to show, but I couldn’t get into any of them. Since pot, booze and girls were out, and I was scared that my reading ability had gotten worse, there was only one thing I could do. I quickly brought up eBay and bought a 360 controller, the same type that would fit my smaller hands. It was the last of my money. I would lose myself in violent video games. Mobile games were an option too, but they weren’t really made to be played for hours. I needed something that would just let me vegetate, allowing me to forget about feelings that were becoming more familiar by the day.

The dream where Eve played my mother was cemented in my head. Every time she did something nice for me, it would replay and the feeling would return. I had to burn them off like a lighter flame on a leech.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and then a sweet voice, ‘Hey, Ryan? I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling OK?”

I turned to look at the phone which remained sunken in the glass of water, guilt feeling like a hunger pang in my stomach.

I said softly, “Uh. Yeah. Better.”

The sweet voice answered, “Good. I just wanted to get my phone.” Eve didn’t wait for me to answer and quickly opened the door. The moment she saw the state of her device, she turned toward me not with anger, but with great sadness. Sympathy.

She shook her head slowly, “You are letting the serum win.”

I replied, sounding genuinely confused, “W-What do mean? How come you aren’t mad?”

Eve answered in a grim tone, “Because I know why you did that. It’s because of last night. I was just trying to be your friend, Ryan.”

I snapped, “Yeah, well I’ve never rubbed Greg’s back when he was feeling sick. I think you’re trying to be more than that.”

Eve shook her head again, “You don’t even see it do you? The broken controller? The way you can’t discern the difference between what you dream and what is real sometimes. The stupid drinking. And now this. You are acting like a child. And mostly a brat actually. Like the kids at the hospital who feel the need to pinch me or kick me when I give them medication they don’t like. They don’t see it as me trying to help them. No, they see it like I’m giving them something they don’t like and that’s all.”

She reached into the glass and plucked out her phone, quickly wiping it down with a nearby towel. “I was actually coming in here to tell you some good news for once.” I looked at Eve hopefully, even as the gravity of her previous words had caused instant grim reflection. Was she right? I wasn’t exactly a person who really thought through my decisions. I had quit the Palace in a moment of anger, laid into Greg over Jessica/Monique- broke up with girls on a whim and even left home because I was pissed at my mom over the fact my dad died. I never even told my mom that I was going, just took off in the Mustang and headed to L.A.

Given this, how did I not end up like Mark and Devon?

Ashley.

And now, I had Eve, who was trying to help. Maybe I was seeing things wrong. Was it just the serum making me seek out a potential mother? I wanted- needed to speak with Tracy. She was the only one who could answer my questions about the serum and what it was doing to my brain. But there was no way that I was going to be allowed to speak to her, and our jail room conversation would likely be taped. Not to mention, walking into a police station as a missing person wasn’t the greatest idea either.

Eve said, “So I-“

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just I have this weird feeling in my brain. It’s like I’m only seeing one way to look at things, and I just lose it. It’s like with the controller- I mean I guess I didn’t tell you this but before I hit it with the hammer, I heard Emma and Sophia playing outside, and I wanted to- I wanted to join them so badly. And I tried to force myself to play the 360, but all I could think of was skipping. It didn’t make any sense that I attacked the controller. I mean that’s what I wanted to use to drown out the girls. I didn’t think. There was this flash in my brain and then I’m just laying into the controller with the hammer.”

Eve added snidely, “To be fair, even before your change you often didn’t think. But I get it. I think the first thing you need to do is just try and calm down. Stop trying to be a macho asshole. It’s just getting you in trouble. That’s twice now. The same thing happened at the beach with you ogling those girls and then running head long into danger. If I hadn’t followed you to beach party, we might be having a completely different conversation now.”

I nodded, “I get that, but it’s hard for me because I feel like I can’t do anything the same way I used to. I can barely sit through a whole movie now without feeling bored. I want to try video games again, but I’m not even sure if that will work. And…you can’t tell this to Greg but I-I think I’m having trouble reading. I don’t know what to do, Eve.”

Eve reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. She had done the same with Jessica before and her others friends, even some guys. But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something else. The touch was so warm and gentle that the instant comfort it brought made me nearly pull away. “Well I think now is probably the best time to tell you about my news. I was speaking to the researchers yesterday during my shift, and they mentioned that they cracked part of the code in the data. They think that it is some kind of formula. I know that this doesn’t help because it’s not a cure yet, but in the short term, think of it like kind of encouragement not to-“

“Be stupid?”

Eve smirked, “Something like that.”

She added, “I’m not sure if playing video games all day is going to help. Other than taking your mind off of things for a while. I know you said that you don’t want to consider acting, but you are a creative guy, Ryan. You probably need some kind of outlet, which is probably one of the reasons your imagination kind of takes hold sometimes. Have you thought about writing? Your thoughts, feelings. It might help.”

I scoffed, “I’m not writing in a diary like some fucking teenage girl.”

Eve cleared her throat gently, “Patients who have undergone terrible trauma use writing as a form of therapy. It helps them put their thoughts together in a coherent way. I’ve seen it used by cancer patients, some of whom could ‘drop’ you. And you know it doesn’t have to be a diary. It could be creative writing. Anything to get what is going on inside of you out in a way that doesn’t leave my phone soaking in a glass of water.”

I replied, “I guess I could try. Uh. You really aren’t mad about the phone?”

Eve shook her head, “Not really. I dropped it in the toilet a few weeks ago. You remember that they are waterproof, right?”

I shrugged, “Well I wasn’t really thinking.” I turned away from Eve momentarily, trying to bury the memory of my childish behaviour. Another concern immediately took root however.

“Yeah. The other thing is. I’m kind of worried about what will happen in a few weeks. School’s over and Mrs. Feinstein’s been talking about having her granddaughters for more days. For full days actually. With school over, how are we going to make her think that I’m not here alone?”

Eve replied, “I’ve been thinking about the same thing. We can all talk about it later when Greg gets up. Brainstorm some ideas. I agree that it’s a problem.”

I nodded, “No more closed door bullshit?”

Eve said, “None. We can talk about the adoption too. You’ve got a choice in this, Ryan. If you don’t want us to adopt you, we can look at other options. The best thing for you now though is to try to maintain control. Fight your impulses. You might find that when you start putting your thoughts down that you can better understand yourself and what you are going through.”

I had expected a completely different conversation, one that involved a lot of screaming and threats. If anything, I was impressed with Eve’s calm demeanour. That feeling of warmth was still there, but now that I understood what Eve was trying to do, it felt different. Maybe she was really just trying to help?

***

The next day, I decided to follow through on Eve’s advice. I sat on my couch/bed with Eve’s laptop draped over my legs. While the computer wasn’t massive, it still felt like I was holding a small table on my lap, and as always, my feet dangled a few inches from the floor. I still hadn’t adjusted to my size. It was partly because in the studio, I used cups, plates and utensils meant for a kid. None of the chairs in the apartment allowed me to actually put my feet on the floor. Annoyingly as well, the sink in the bathroom had an old style basin with higher taps, meaning I had to get on my tip toes to reach it.

Of course the alternative was eating on plates, using a stool or sitting in chairs designed for children. Since that wasn’t an option, I would have to deal with the aggravation of living in an adult-sized world.

I decided to write a five act play, or possibly a story. So many actors wrote screenplays, hoping that it would be their break into the business, but that wasn’t my intent. No, I wanted to let my creativity flow, which as Eve explained, would hopefully provide me a measure of control. I didn’t want to write a diary as that would force me to deal with the issues head on, which is not something I was familiar with. My growing imagination, beyond my poor impulse control, was likely the most dangerous aspect of my change, and one that threatened to send Ryan Sullivan into a world of make believe that would ultimately destroy him.

Interaction with children was risky, but actually playing with them, joining in their games, as I had at the beach, was deadly. It is obviously what happened to Ashley. She wasn’t the same after she returned from ‘camp’. I guessed that she had fought against it initially, but surrounded by so many children, it was inevitable that she would fall to the mob. So, if I could actually turn down the play because my imagination was sufficiently sated, it would hopefully allow me to really begin fighting the serum.

Along the same lines of the supernatural detective show I was watching, I set my story during the 1930s, a time of prohibition in the United States and rampant gangster-related crimes. It was the time of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre and frequent reckless bank robberies. The twist, however, was the fact that someone or rather something was killing mobsters, but they weren’t dying from gunshots. No, many of them were found mysteriously strangled or frozen to death in areas where you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

I smiled as I tapped away on the computer. My strokes were slow but steady as the story unfolded. The person investigating the unusual deaths was a private eye, hired by the police department. Since the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, which saw dozens of mobsters brutally murdered, the public had grown weary of the crime families, worried that the violence would spill into the streets. Given this fact and coupled with the bizarre deaths, the police were cautious about revealing too much to the public.

I wrote practically non-stop for what seemed like hours. My imagination was restrained and controlled- it still had the power to develop characters, settings and plot, but it wasn’t off in some magical fairy tale land.

I ran across my first bit of writer’s block when I couldn’t decide on a partner for the private eye. The person would have to be linked to the supernatural somehow. Maybe a psychic? No, that had been done to death. I didn’t really want to introduce magical powers, but then…I had written myself into a corner with the victim who was frozen to death. Ghosts didn’t usually have powers like that.

A tiny smile grew on my face as I typed, “Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, trapped on Earth by a powerful magical spell, was known to Wally Sylvester. He had kind of a reputation for dealing with the strangest customers, and that’s why the police hired him to solve a string of the most bizarre murders Chicago had ever seen. She seemed like a real nut job, the kind they stick in the loony bin, but she’d helped him before. She had a reputation as an ice queen both literally and figuratively, and while he didn’t believe for a second that she could actually freeze anything, with one of the dead men found frozen stiff, she was both a suspect and perhaps one of the only people who could solve the murders.”

I raised a brow and said aloud, “What in the actual fuck? Did I just turn this into a Frozen fanfiction? For fuck’s sake.”

I deleted the entire paragraph and then introduced the psychic instead, deciding to ret-con the deaths and make them more believable. I couldn’t believe that the serum could just coopt my imagination like that. I continued writing, however; it wasn’t long before I grew bored, wanting to do something else.

I could have switched to a movie, but then I felt like I had something here. It wasn’t amazing or anything, but I was proud of it, but most importantly, it was something Ryan Sullivan wrote. So, I continued writing, but it became harder and harder to focus on the story…not becoming something else.

It started to bother me that Anna and Olaf, the magic talking snowman, couldn’t see their friend and sister any longer, so I wrote them into the story too. And gradually, it changed from being a gritty supernatural crime drama with elements of horror to Frozen 2: Lost in a new world. The entire second part of the story featured Anna and Olaf looking for the magical portal that transported their friend to a different time and place. Wally Sylvester, the tough-talking no-nonsense private eye became a little fairy girl that guided Elsa back toward her friends. The story looked like it had been written by two different people.

I slammed down the lid of the laptop, “Fuck me. This isn’t working.” Maybe Eve was right and I did need to get my feelings down. I just wasn’t sure how I could do it without sounding like some teenaged girl going through an emo or goth phase.

I was pleasantly surprised, however, when my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the apartment buzzer. Even though I had only ordered the controller a day before, deliveries were sometimes very fast. Some big box stores even offered same day delivery, which was mindboggling considering twenty years ago people were still ordering things out of catalogues. I still remember poring over the Christmas Wishbook catalogue, circling all the things I wanted and then boxes arriving at the base sometimes weeks later.

I hurried to the door and unlatched it, not even bothering to look through the peep hole. Unfortunately, I wasn’t met by a delivery person holding a package. Instead, a smiling young woman, probably a few years older than me, stood at the door holding a clipboard. She was a little plain for my taste, but that could have been because her hair was tied in a severe bun, making the skin of her forehead look oddly stretched. She wore a neat suit, highlighting a pair of stumpy legs and a passable figure. I knew girls like this from the gym. They would come and do twenty minutes of cardio and then leave, thinking they would lose weight. Or they would do the easiest classes.

Still, despite this, her face and general package itself was attractive with fair skin and a light dusting of red in otherwise honey blonde hair. She smiled down at me in that way that adults did when they looked at children, which was half warm and half patronizing. I figured she was looking for money, so I quickly moved to close the door. Before I could, however, she gently placed her hand on the side of it. This caused her to switch the hand that held the clipboard which revealed a laminated badge with the words, “Child Protective Services- Bronwyn McDavid”.

I tried my best to hide both my surprise and the sudden fear I felt, but it was impossible. Akin to a gut punch, all the air left my lungs, and I struggled to breathe. My left hand began to shake so much that I was forced to hide it behind my back.

Ms. McDavid leaned down and smiled gently, “It’s OK. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’d just like to speak to your mommy or daddy. I have a few small questions for them. You can tell them that a Ms. McDavid from Child Protective Services is here to see them.”

I stared blankly at the woman. It was obvious that the government would find us eventually. Eve was right in that they probably knew where I was staying after I escaped from the studio, but I was completely unprepared for the reality of this fact, staring at me with a smiling face and a clipboard.

I blurted out, “They’ll be back soon. In five minutes. They just went to the store.”

The woman raised a brow, “Oh? Well that’s OK. I can wait for them. While we wait, can I ask you a few questions please? Oh, and what’s your name, cutie?”

I managed to squeak out, “S-Sure. It’s um…Riley.” I was hoping that I would be able to send a quick text to Eve to let her know she needed to get her ass back here, commandeer a fucking ambulance if she had to, but the woman didn’t budge from the door. I knew letting her in would probably look really bad, since I shouldn’t have even answered the door in the first place.

I said quickly, “Can you just wait a sec? I need to tell my mom I’m talking to you.” Ms. McDavid nodded, and I rapidly texted Eve, telling her to get home ASAP. Still, why the fuck did I have to open the door? At least I managed to come up with an excuse that would make me look mature enough to stay by myself for the time it would take Eve to get home.

I returned to the door, and unfortunately, Ms. McDavid hadn’t left or died of a heart attack. She looked at me expectantly, but matched with the gentle smile, I had a hard time wishing too much for her death, despite what she represented. “So, how come you aren’t at school today, Riley?”

I replied, “My mom took me out for today. We’re supposed to go to the splash park with the big slides.”

Ms. McDavid smiled, “Sounds like fun! Now, I don’t want you to be scared, Riley. But there’s been some concern that your parents are leaving you home alone. It’s not a bad thing. And they can, but I just need to make sure you are safe. So I’m going to ask you some questions. It doesn’t mean anyone is going to be in trouble necessarily. It’s all to keep you safe, you know what that means, right?”

My eyes filled with what probably looked like murderous rage. It wasn’t the government coming to collect their creation, no, it was a social worker following up on a complaint. The only person I could think of was Mrs. Feinstein. She had threatened to tell before, and now, I was positive she had made a formal complaint. I couldn’t understand why, especially because I had been staying at her place, and we had been getting along really well.

I brushed away the instant feeling of anger as best I could, trying to address Ms. McDavid with a face that didn’t scream go-the-fuck-away. Her questions would be the equivalent to free climbing, scaling the face of a cliff with no supports or tools. One wrong foothold or failed attempt to latch onto the next step would mean death, or in my case, an investigation which could lead to my removal from Greg and Eve. I couldn’t ignore the sudden thumping of my heart and the tiny ache at the prospect of the latter.

I nodded in response to Ms. McDavid’s question, and she quickly asked a follow up. “If there was a fire in the apartment, would you know what to do, Riley?”

I said proudly, “Yeah. There’s a fire extinguisher under the sink. I’d grab that and put it out.”

Ms. McDavid lightly tapped her pen on the clipboard, “Hmm. I see. You don’t think it would be better to run to a neighbour? And depending on the type of fire, the extinguisher might not work. It’s better to leave the apartment, tell an adult, and they will decide how to handle the fire. OK, sweetie?”

I frowned and nodded begrudgingly. Ms. McDavid looked at me thoughtfully, “Don’t worry, sweetie. There’s no wrong answers. It’s not like a test at school. You’re doing fine. And I’m glad your parents showed you how to use the extinguisher, but it’s best to let an adult put a fire out.”

“Now if there is a fire in the apartment, but there’s smoke coming from under the front door and the handle feels hot to the touch. What would you do?”

I said, “Well I’d use the fire escape. Climb out the window.”

Ms. McDavid nodded, “OK. And where is the fire escape? Can you show me?”

I nodded and led the woman into the apartment, bringing her to the window. She tsked gently and inspected the window, placing her hands on it and forcing it open with a slight grunt. She slowly shook her head and looked down at her clipboard. From what I could tell, she was going down a list and likely checking various boxes after each question. I came to the realization that I wasn’t doing very well so far, and my nervousness returned in the form of rapid breathing and shaky hands. I thought that I had answered the question smartly, but it didn’t matter if I knew what to do, it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to open the stubborn window.

Ms. McDavid’s bottom lip stretched forward as she tilted her head slightly, “Are you OK, Riley? Just let me know when you are ready to continue.” I nodded sadly, again hiding my hand behind my back.

“Good. I don’t mean to upset you. I know these questions can be difficult. But again it comes down to making sure you are safe. I don’t think your mommy or daddy would want to see you hurt, sweetie.”

“If there was a fire or something else that happened that made you feel afraid, who would you call? You know what an emergency is, right? Who would you call in case of emergency? And let’s say you can’t reach your parents.”

I replied, “Well there’s a lady that I stay with after school. I would go see her.”

Ms. McDavid nodded, “Okay. Good. But if she wasn’t home, who would you call?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess my mom’s friend Jessica. She’s stayed with me a few times, and she’s nice.”

The woman looked down at her clipboard with a smile and made what looked like a check with her pen. It made me think that I had finally answered one of the questions correctly. I wanted to tell her that there were, in fact, right and wrong answers. Too many wrong answers meant an investigation with a likely result. I would be just like Ashley, likely forced to stay at the daycare program at the hospital, and by the time September rolled around, I would be ready, and likely excited to go to school.

The next few questions had to do with first aid, and considering my injury, I knew exactly where they were. I went through the steps to properly dress a wound and what to do if I drank poison. The test would have been nearly impossible for a real six year old, unless they had been extremely well trained, and other than the first two screw ups, I thought I was knocking it out of the park.

“Okay, Riley. Pretend I’m the person who answers the 9-1-1 calls. You need to tell me your full home address. Including the postal code.”

Considering I didn’t drive any longer, and I had barely left the apartment, I couldn’t remember the street sign. I frantically looked around for an envelope with a bill on it, something that would tell me. I mostly navigated using landmarks. I had never paid attention to the address here.

Seconds later, however, I had a Eureka moment. I grabbed my phone and quickly opened Google Maps, setting the GPS to ‘Find My Location’. I showed it to Ms. McDavid with a smile.

The young woman grinned, “Well you’re a little smarty aren’t you? You should know it off-by-heart though, just in case you can’t use your phone. Still, I’m impressed, Riley.”

She looked down at the clipboard again and then returned her gaze to me, “Great. Well I have one last question for you, Riley. Do you ever get really scared when you are alone? Like you hear a noise, and you aren’t sure what it is. And what happens when you are frightened or nervous when you are alone? How do you deal with those feelings?”

I nodded, “Well sometimes. I usually just call my mommy or daddy, or I call Mrs. Feinstein and she lets me stay with her until they get home.”

The pen again struck a clear checkmark over the page. I felt that I had passed the test, especially with the most recent answers I had given. I sounded like a mature young lady who had been very well trained by her parents.

Ms. McDavid nodded, “A small follow-up question, Riley. Do you know what overwhelmed means? It’s like when you have a very strong feeling, it can be fear but it can be happiness too. But let’s say it makes you scared in this case. Do you ever feel like it’s too much, that you are overwhelmed staying by yourself?”

I shook my head, unsure what sort of response the woman was fishing for. “No. And like I said, if I was, well I’d stay with Mrs. Feinstein or I’d ask Jessica to come over and be with me.”

Ms. McDavid checked her watch with a slight frown, “How long do your parents usually leave you alone for?”

I shrugged, “Well it depends. Not very long.”

Ms. McDavid nodded, although her smiling face had been replaced with one of disappointment. Her mouth drooped into a frown, while she chewed her bottom lip. “Have they ever left you alone for a whole day? And I know you might not understand exactly what I mean, but let me explain. Let’s say you eat breakfast with your mommy, but then you don’t see her until you wake up the next morning. Are there days like that?”

I nodded, “Sometimes. Usually, I go to school and then I go to Mrs. Feinstein’s after that. But then my dad comes home from the restaurant to stay with me. Mom works as a nurse so if she leaves in the morning I only sometimes see her before bed. But I never spend the night alone. Ever.”

The woman looked down at her clipboard and began writing furiously. She continued writing, pausing only to provide what she likely believed was a reassuring smile. “Now, with school ending in the next few weeks, what is going to happen then? You said your dad works at a restaurant. And your mom is a nurse. Are you going to be staying with Jessica or this, uh, Mrs. Feinstein?”

I nodded, “I think so. Probably both of them.”

The door opened in flurry, with Eve, her purse and legs and arms entering like some failed mad scientist experiment in clockwork motion.

“Uh sorry. *huff* I’m so *huff* late. Traffic was terrible.” Eve practically threw her purse across the room, before moving to the kitchen table and sitting down. Ms. McDavid calmly followed her. I figured I would be told to go to my non-existent room, but Ms. McDavid actually invited me to sit at the table.

Ms. McDavid looked firmly at Eve, who was still wearing her nursing scrubs. “So you came from work, miss?”

Eve nodded, “Mendes.”

Ms. McDavid frowned gently, “It’s interesting because your daughter told me that you were at the store. And only a few minutes away. Now, in situations like this, I actually like to conduct the interview with the child present. This is a good learning opportunity, for her as well as yourself, Miss Mendes. I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Ms. McDavid.” I was shocked how quickly the social worker turned from pleasant but firm to tough-as-nails bitch as soon as Eve walked through the door. She had gone from casual Friday with shoes optional to power suit and heels with football player-sized shoulders pads.

Eve gently cleared her throat, “Uh. I-I’m sure. Um. That’s fine, Ms. McDavid.” Eve was worse than a deer in the headlights, in fact, she was acting more like the aftermath, entrails, gore, bone splattered, no longer animal but simply parts- dead, deaf, dumb and blind.

Ms. McDavid nodded slowly and then briefly looked down at her clipboard. “There has been some concern that Riley may not be ready to stay by herself for extended periods of time. As you know, there’s no specific legal age when a child can stay at home in this state, but it’s important to note that this is discretionary. In very, very few cases would I suggest that a child her age stay alone for any length of time. Most twelve year olds are mature enough, some ten year olds, but I can’t think of any case where someone Riley’s age was home by herself for longer than a half hour. And keep in mind, these were cases where a child was seriously injured.”

“Riley told me that you were at the store, and you were coming back soon. She said the reason she is out of school is because you were going to take her to the water park. Is this true?” The questions were no longer friendly. I had seen enough detective shows to know when someone was being grilled. If this were a business meeting, it would scream hostile takeover.

Eve nodded slowly. All she had to do was agree with everything I told Ms. McDavid. Then, it would be nearly impossible to show I lied. “Yes. But I think she was confused. I said after work, right, baby girl?” I nodded.

“And which one were you going to bring her to?”

Eve blinked, “Uh. I guess the one off 64. It’s the closest.”

Ms. McDavid replied, “Uh huh. OK. So part of what I’m trying to do here is to figure out if Riley is mature enough to stay by herself. That means emotionally mature in that she can handle being alone, but also, advanced enough that she can understand directions, provide details, and make smart decisions. I have to say that you’ve taught her very well. She knows more about first aid then any elementary student I’ve ever spoken to. Although, she could use a refresher on fire safety. I don’t like the idea of her using a fire extinguisher by herself. She should always tell an adult when she feels she’s in danger, and if there’s a fire, she should immediately leave the apartment. Your fire escape is also not easily accessible to her. I suggest you replace that window with one that Riley can more easily open.”

The young social worker furrowed her brow gently, “However, I have to say that I’m very concerned about a few things. For one, Riley opened the door without asking who I was. And she let me in the apartment without asking you. I expected that she would have me talk to you first and then give the OK.”

Ms. McDavid turned to me and said gently, “I’m not trying to get you in trouble, Riley. Maybe you thought it was OK because I have a badge. But you shouldn’t have opened the door in the first place. It’s very dangerous to open the door for strangers. And even for people you know. And, you can’t let anyone into the apartment unless you’ve spoken to your mommy or daddy first, OK, sweetie?” I nodded sullenly. Why couldn’t it have been the fucking delivery guy with my controller?

She turned back to Eve, “Would you consider your daughter mature for her age?”

Eve nodded rapidly, “Absolutely. Yes.”

Ms. McDavid said, “Do you ever have trouble with her around the house? Any behaviour problems at all? Times where she hasn’t done what she was told?”

Eve shook her head, “No. Not that I remember. I mean she is six. She doesn’t like to go to bed on time. She’ll talk back, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen working in the children’s ward at the hospital. I’d say she’s a pretty normal six year old.”

Ms. McDavid began writing frantically. I wasn’t sure if Eve was acing the test or not, but fevered writing seemed like a bad thing, but with me, simple checkmarks were the goal.

“I’m sorry, but I need to take all of this down. I’m still listening if you have anything to add, but it’s very important that I capture our conversation, Ms. Mendes. Does your daughter have any serious allergies or a medical condition that might make it dangerous for her to stay alone?”

Eve again shook her head, “No. Like I said, she’s very normal. I mean she ate some eggs when she was a baby and flared up, but we had her tested recently and the only thing she tested high for was pet dander. Dog and cat. She doesn’t have any medical conditions.”

Ms. McDavid raised a brow, “Does she get overwhelmed easily? I have to say that when she opened the door for me, the poor girl looked terrified. She was shaking like a leaf. I would say that her breathing was erratic also. She doesn’t have asthma does she?”

Eve shook her head, “No.”

“One final question, Ms. Mendes. Has Riley ever hurt herself while she’s been alone in the apartment? And if so, did she tell you immediately?”

Eve paused and then calmly said, “No. And if she did, I’m sure she would tell me.”

Finally, Ms. McDavid lowered her pen. She looked at me with a smile and then addressed Eve sternly, “By all accounts, your daughter is remarkable. Her speech and comprehension is off the charts for someone her age. She’s a beautiful little girl and highly intelligent. So, I’m going to ask you a simple question. Do you want to risk leaving your child home alone for extended periods of time? I don’t want to scare you Ms. Mendes, but you are taking, in my professional opinion, an unnecessary risk. Riley is very mature for her age, but she’s simply too young to stay by herself. I’ve seen it before in children her age, and while I’m not a doctor, I think she suffers from mild to potentially severe panic attacks. Leaving a child alone who suffers from these types of attacks is very dangerous.”

Eve frowned and looked at the social worker with narrowed eyes, “I’m not sure what you are getting at here, but I think if she had them I would notice. I’m a trained nurse.”

Ms. McDavid replied, “Ms. Mendes, I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m not trying to be difficult with you. I know that Riley may enjoy spending time with your friend and this woman in the building, but there are alternatives. I’m not sure if you are aware, but the state is now offering a number of affordable child care options during the summer.”

The social worker locked eyes with me, her face morphing from austere to pleasant in milliseconds, “You’ll get to play with kids your own age, Riley. There’s games and lots of activities. And even,” she paused for dramatic effect, “circus school. Would you like to learn how to juggle, sweetie? Or ride a unicycle?”

Eve said, “I don’t think my daughter would be interested in that. She enjoys spending time with Mrs. Feinstein and my friend Jessica.”

Ms. McDavid’s features tightened as her brows raised. “The issue here is not what she would enjoy the most- it is what is best for her. Now, Ms. Mendes, you’ve lied to me several times during our discussion. So I have a hard time believing that Riley will be staying with your friend or this,” her eyes darted toward the clipboard, “Mrs. Feinstein for as long as you say.”

Eve began to slowly grind her teeth, “How exactly have I lied to you?”

Ms. McDavid replied, “I’d rather not do this in front of your daughter. If you would like to come to my-“

Eve glared at the woman and bared her teeth, similar to a snarling dog. Of course, I’d never tell Eve that. Well now. Before, I would have been all over the insult, equating her to an angry bulldog. I couldn’t tell if Eve was upset at being called a liar (which she definitely was) or if she… Would she care in the end if I was sent away? It was hard to admit, but at the thought, that tiny ache returned to my heart.

Ms. McDavid sighed, “There is no waterpark off 64, and if there was, it would be closed because of the drought. That is forgivable as you could may not have known that. But you outright lied about an injury that Riley suffered. I’ve spoken to others in the building, and there was an instance where Riley was left alone, and she was seriously hurt.” Feinstein. I was going to fucking kill her.

She added, “And while I cannot diagnose your daughter, a psychological profile conducted by a doctor can. Do you really want to put her through a bevy of tests? I will also have to complete a full investigation. For what, this strange obsession that I assume is some form of free-range parenting? I have a legal obligation to ensure that your daughter is safe. All of the other issues we discussed, how she answers the door, the fire escape, all of them can be fixed. But I cannot legally allow you to leave her at home if I have reason to suspect that she has an undiagnosed medical condition.”

The young woman sighed, “I’m very sorry about this, Ms. Mendes. Your best option is to enroll Riley in one of the state-sponsored day programs for the summer. I really don’t want to have to go through with an investigation. I have the forms with me, and I can even stay while you fill them out in case you have any questions. Based on your income, it might be less than 10$ a day, depending on what Riley’s father makes.”

Ms. McDavid offered Eve a small reassuring smile. It was obvious why. Eve, the former bulldog, had been reduced to a declawed and toothless cat. Her shoulders slumped as her eyes stared at the floor. “We can fill the forms out tomorrow if you like. Talk to your husband about it and then please give me a call in the morning.” The woman deposited her card on the kitchen table. The same table where I had beaten Greg in every single drinking contest we ever had.

Ms. McDavid rose from the table and then leaned down in front of me, “You’re going to love the day camp, Riley.”

***

“So we’re going to fight this, right? I mean I can’t obviously go to that camp. It’s basically exactly what happened to Ashley. In a week, the Ashley I knew was gone.”

Eve shifted her eyes to avoid my gaze. She was the equivalent of a boxer who gives up before the bell, not even willing to throw a single punch.

“Fuck, Eve! This is bullshit. All the big words to me about not giving up and the first time the shit hits the fan, you crumple. You’re like a fat girl’s willpower in a room full of cheesecakes. Overwhelmed and powerless.”

Eve shot me a dirty look, but she refused to bite. “I have to make some calls.” Following this, Eve went into her bedroom and closed the door.

I yelled, “Oh, what? We’re just done now? Fuck you, Eve! I can’t believe I ever trusted you. I thought we were supposed to talk about this shit together.” I emphasized my point with two quick stomps of my feet.

Still in a rage, I bolted from the apartment and headed to Mrs. Feinstein’s apartment. That fucking bitch had turned the feds on us. I knew it was her who had made the complaint. She was the only one who knew that I had been injured. During my time there, I thought we got along well enough, and lately, she hadn’t mentioned anything about her complaint. She had obviously changed her mind.

I scrunched my little hand into a fist and used the fleshy portion to bang as loud as I could on the door. The flesh on wood made a pathetic plinking noise, like a pebble hitting a massive oak tree. My mind, at this point, was moving a billion miles a seconds. Deep within my nestled brain mass, I could almost feel a switch going off, followed by a blinding flash. All logic, all reasonable thought fled from my mind as I sat down on the floor and proceeded to kick my feet at the door. My feet hitting the door made a satisfying thump with each kick.

So lost in my anger toward the door and Mrs. Feinstein, I failed to realize that seconds later, I was actually kicking air.

“Child! What in the world possessed you to create this terrible racket!? Are you hurt? Is there an emergency?”

The moment I heard Mrs. Feinstein’s voice, I jumped to my feet and screamed, “You fucking, wrinkled dried up old bitch! You made your complaint anyway, didn’t you? After you promised you wouldn’t!” I was surprised that as much anger as I felt toward the woman, such vile rage spewing from me, that I was almost equally saddened. Hurt.

Mrs. Feinstein swung the door wide open, and then pointed to the lazy boy rocker with her cane. It was the same chair where we had read so many chapters of Hound of the Baskervilles. “Sit.” It wasn’t a polite offer of tea or even a firm suggestion- it was a command. While she hadn’t had to discipline me since our initial meeting, I quickly fell into line with the return of her steeled tone.

The flash returned in my brain, and I felt a sudden wave of fear. Trouble. I was in so much trouble.

I quickly shook away the thoughts. No, I had a reason to viciously verbally assault this woman. She may have sealed Ryan Sullivan’s fate.

“I’m going to ignore your vile words for now, young lady. Because I am more concerned with what brought you here to make such a strong, and might I add, groundless accusation. Now, speak. What is this nonsense?”

I replied, staring at Mrs. Feinstein with a boiling hatred. It wasn’t simply a pot whose water had overflowed. No, it was the angry remains, the seething droplets that sizzled in a pot nearly drained of liquid. In the old woman’s face, however, I saw great confusion and sadness. This fact dowsed much of my anger. “Child Services came. They made a big deal about me staying home alone. The woman said it’s because someone complained. And somehow they found out that I’d been hurt. You were the only one who knew that other than my mom.”

Mrs. Feinstein sighed deeply. She sat down on the couch opposite to me, her shoulders and seemingly her entire body caving in from some unseen pressure. “My granddaughters. Granddaughter in fact. After your injury, I’m sorry to say that for approximately a week and even two…Sophia made a point to tell everyone that she was a hero. She was so proud of herself, how she had brought me to help you. I was the one who put it in her head. It’s all very innocent. I’m very sad to hear that it has led to this.”

She added, “I made a point in trying to fib a little. Especially around the ladies in the park who gather around the picnic tables. I don’t go in for idle gossip, especially when it affects someone I care dearly for. When the ladies brought up you staying alone, I mentioned that- well your mother was just around the corner.”

I glared at her, “I don’t believe you. You just- you’re lying. You’re just a shit disturber.”

Mrs. Feinstein furrowed her brow and gently tapped her cane on the floor, “I can assure you that I am not. I am actually quite reasonable. I never made the complaint, Riley. I understand that you are upset, but I should not be the target of your anger. Your head is probably buzzing like it’s full of bees right now, but take a moment, take a deep breath and think about what I have said. Have I done anything to make you think otherwise? Since you began coming here in the afternoons?”

I wanted to remain furious, but it was difficult due to the calming effect of Mrs. Feinstein’s words. I grumbled and said, “I guess not. I mean, well I guess I’m sorry. I kind of overreacted.”

Mrs. Feinstein nodded, “A tooth extraction of an apology but I’ll accept it. I will speak to your mother about this issue. I can act as a reference for Child Services. I’ve been meaning to speak to her actually because I still haven’t found out what she intends to do with you over the summer. I don’t mind of course keeping our regular afternoon socials, but I’m planning on taking some vacation in July. Three weeks actually. Sophia and Emma are both going to be in camps, and then they’ll be staying with me for a whole week in August. Poor Sophia is starting to think you don’t like her. Your parents always seem to be home whenever I have the girls.”

I frowned, unable to control the gradual shift forward of my lower lip. It formed what I assumed was a gentle pout. “Three weeks?”

Mrs. Feinstein smiled, “I’m sure your parents have all kinds of fun things planned. Maybe you’ll get to see your grandmother. I don’t mind being the surrogate of course, but didn’t you say you stayed with her when your parents had that raucous party?”

Three weeks suddenly seemed like an eternity. It would mean that I couldn’t stay with Mrs. Feinstein and avoid the summer camp, but it also meant…I wouldn’t see her for three whole weeks. I was equally saddened at this thought and terrified, knowing that if I was forced to attend the camp, I would fall victim to the serum. When I returned, I would be more than happy to play with Sophia. We could play Frozen together, just like Ashley and I had done. Memories from the studio flooded back, but instead of the piercing metallic thrum and the darkness with teeth that loved to feast on little children, I remembered simply being lost in play with Ashley. I felt a sudden warmth in my chest and tiny prickle at the back of my neck.

I quickly brushed the thoughts away. Mrs. Feinstein looked at me with a wry smile, “Of course, it doesn’t mean we can’t finish the Hound of the Baskervilles before I go.” She reached over to the coffee table and pulled the book onto her lap.

I grinned and nodded, clambering up onto the couch to sit next to Mrs. Feinstein. She asked, “Does your mother know you are here?” I shook my head.

Mrs. Feinstein reached over to her telephone. “Hello, yes. Ms. Mendes. I wanted to let you know that Riley is here with me. Yes. You’re welcome, goodbye.”

Mrs. Feinstein opened the book and began reading, however, only a few pages in, she stopped. “Riley, dear, can you read for a little while? I’m having a little trouble concentrating.”

I frowned, looking down at the pages like they were an impossible to solve math problem.

Mrs. Feinstein said, “I promise I’ll continue in a few minutes, child. My head it’s just buzzing a little right now. You’ll do fine with your reading. Just go slowly, and if you come across a word that proves too difficult, I’ll jump in. These kinds of challenges are part and parcel with learning to read.”

I stared grimly at the page, fear gripping my body, forcing my shoulders down with immeasurable weight. Incredibly, the words came into focus, and I was able to rapidly decipher the patterns associated with each one. I read an entire chapter by myself, and while I shouldn’t have been proud- I was. I suppose I had a reason to be proud both as Riley and Ryan. Whatever demoralizing side effect of the serum that had sapped my ability to read was gone. I concluded that it must have been a one off, the result of a constantly battered mind.

After finishing the chapter, I returned to the apartment in high spirits. I was surprised how quickly I had forgiven Mrs. Feinstein. In a way, it was her fault. She had called Sophia a hero, and then the girl blabbed to a bunch of gossiping old ladies, but I couldn’t stay mad at her. In fact, I still felt bad for swearing at her. The memory of her wrinkled face drooping into a frown, her eyes sagging in their sockets, her body itself seemingly shrinking, withering away, it stayed with me.

It was almost as if I was actually starting to care about her. She wasn’t some one-night stand that I could have my fun with and forget about. But what was she? The grandmother I never really had? Simply a light in what has been a dark tunnel perpetuated by the serum?

A friend.

And one I didn’t ask for rides from or insult, or feel the need to engage in pissing contests with. She gave me confidence, and while her granddaughter’s action had suddenly forced a number of objects in my path, I still felt supported by her. She brought about similar feelings of warmth, without the baggage brought on by Eve’s mothering.

It was like somehow everything would turn out fine. That’s what I felt when I was around her. It made me consider, as I walked back to the apartment, telling her my secret. We would have another ally, another person to take up the cause against the serum, the corrupt government- the entire sordid web.

I opened the door slowly, feeling heartened after my time with Mrs. Feinstein, I was ready to try again with Eve, minus the swearing and childish behaviour. The support and encouragement I received from Mrs. Feinstein gave me hope that Eve would do the same.

“Hi, Riley! It’s nice to meet you.”

Sitting next to Eve on the couch was Jessica.

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at oneshot20XX@gmail.com.

Chapter 21

There she was. She was everything that I remembered- long blonde hair bound in a bouncy ponytail, tight, probably near perfect body (I’d never seen her naked, so I couldn’t tell for sure) encased in ass-hugging yoga pants. Her best feature, however, was her diamond shaped face and two brilliant crystalline blue eyes.

“You’re so brave, Riley. Eve told me everything. Don’t worry, we’re going to be really good friends.”

Eve smiled, “Jessica’s going to watch you during the day. Isn’t that exciting, Riley? You can stay with her while Mrs. Feinstein goes on vacation.”

I should have been overjoyed at the fact that I was saved from the day camp, but having Jessica here, in all her fitness model incredibly fuckable splendour- it was a constant reminder of what I had lost, and what I never had. She was supposed to have been a new direction, one that could have led me toward a new Hannah, toward something better.

I nodded, knowing that I was going to have to play Riley around Jessica. Still, it was better than day camp.

Jessica grinned, “We’re going to have so much fun! We can do crafts. I’ve got a really fun idea for how we can make our own milk jug animals. And even better, I’ll show you how to make your own friendship bracelets. There’s a neat project we can do with egg cartons too. You’ll love it!”

I stared at Jessica dumbfounded, thinking that the day camp might actually be a better option now.

Eve said, “Maybe just start slow with her, Jessica. You know she’s been through a lot. She hasn’t had a regular childhood, considering she grew up in an orphanage and then…well you know what happened in the studio.”

Jessica nodded, looking momentarily disappointed, however; she quickly perked up, “I just figured that I should treat her like a regular kid. Then maybe she won’t think about what happened to her as much. I just can’t believe that someone would do that. I mean I wouldn’t want to grow up in an orphanage, but you say that they made her work twelve and sometimes fourteen hour days? I’m glad they caught the person that masterminded the whole thing.”

Eve shook her head, “Tracy wasn’t the one who planned it. The ones who did are- missing. Tracy actually helped Riley escape.”

Jessica smiled, “Oh right. Sorry, I just can’t believe it. It’s like all this time, you had the cutest little girl here. Oh my god look at her, even when she’s frowning like that, she’s adorable. So how come you took so long to tell me? I mean I thought you were mad at me. Well actually, I was pretty sure you were trying to keep me away from Ryan. But I also thought you were mad at me because I was bugging you about seeing him.” Jessica gently furrowed her brow.

If I could have, at that moment, I would have driven rusty nails in my ears to puncture my ear drums. As it was, I had to act like the conversation didn’t bother me.

Eve replied, “It’s complicated with Ryan. And you know how he is. He showed up here completely unannounced then three days later he was gone. Just said he had to get back to filming.”

Jessica frowned, “I’m surprised he didn’t call or text me if he was in town.”

Eve sighed, “You know he’s probably checking out all the Canadian girls in Vancouver. Just forget about him. He’s probably forgotten about you.”

Jessica shrugged her shoulders, “I can’t get him out of my head though.”

Eve replied, “You’re like this with every guy you don’t get closure with. Remember Trevor and Peter? You turned into little miss stalker.”

Jessica shook her head and smirked, “At least I wasn’t writing Greg’s name in my nursing textbooks like some 8th grader who isn’t sure a guy like likes her.”

Eve laughed and then Jessica joined her. I rolled my eyes so far back into my head, I was momentarily concerned that the balls would tumble out of my skull. Fuck girl talk was lame.

Jessica asked, “Seriously though. Why did you wait so long to tell me about Riley? I mean I could have helped from the beginning.”

Eve replied, “We weren’t really sure how to handle it. I mean we thought about going to the police, but Riley told us that the police took Tracy, and she didn’t do anything. Like I said, she tried to save them. So we weren’t sure who we could trust. We just wanted to keep her here until we could figure out what to do.”

Jessica shook her head, “Yeah, but leaving her alone is pretty dangerous, Eve. I would never, ever leave my niece alone like that. You should have let me know sooner. I could have watched her. And now you say a social worker is involved? What are you going to do about that? Especially when they find out you aren’t her mother.”

Eve said, “We’re considering trying to adopt her. I mean she’s an orphan.”

Jessica looked at me with a half smile, “I can’t believe no one adopted her before! She’s so pretty! Who wouldn’t want her as a daughter? And you say she’s super smart too? Like she can read and everything? My niece is still reading picture books.”

Eve nodded, “Yeah. She’s very special. Thanks so much for agreeing to this. I’m sure you and Riley will get along really well. I wouldn’t go crazy with the crafts though. Just let her play the Xbox if she wants. Or watch movies. She’s pretty low-key for a little girl.”

Jessica replied, “But that doesn’t sound like much fun at all. The Xbox? Let me guess, she sits there with the headset on and plays Call of Duty like my brother?”

Eve shrugged, “She- she saw Greg playing it- so we got her a controller.”

Jessica blinked, “Wait, you are serious? And you actually let her play online? I’m not really sure it’s a good idea to have a six year old playing a game like that. She could be talking to perverts.” She walked over to the TV and quickly scanned the games, “I’m not sure any of these are appropriate for her.”

Eve said, “Jess, it is seriously fine. We monitor it. Yeah, there are perverts, but I mean do you remember dating teenage guys? You know that species that thought girls were 100% boob? Like I said, she’s not really your every day normal six year old girl. And she’s good at it. Since the news story broke, she can’t leave the apartment, so she needs to do something.”

Jessica frowned, “Well then get her some toys. I don’t see any toys around here at all. How can she not have any toys? My younger brother is addicted to those games. He’s seriously twisted. Like completely obsessed with guns and shooting guns. He keeps bugging my dad to take him to a shooting range.”

Eve replied, “This is who she is. Yeah it’s a bit strange that she doesn’t play with dolls or anything, but keep in mind, she hasn’t had a normal upbringing. I’m not saying let her do whatever she wants, but you know- don’t try and change her overnight. Because…you won’t like the result.”

Jessica nodded, “OK, Eve. I’ll do my best. I just really want to help you out. Her story is so sad.”

Eve smiled, “Thanks, Jess. I know Riley’s going to love spending time with you.”

***

The yoga pants clung to her like a second skin. Her muscular ass, perfectly firm yet enticingly round, sat high, teasing as it thrust forward and backward, practically begging for a pair of hands to gently squeeze it. Her long blonde hair unbound dipped gracefully over one shoulder. She grasped her left foot, slowly bringing it back, until it was parallel with her head. For anyone else, the pose and fitness wear would have revealed a litany of flaws, a drooping ass, and low-hanging belly combined with love handles, mottled thighs, but with her, it only screamed her perfection.

I watched, or rather stared, at Jessica as she went through a series of yoga stretches. Before my change, it would have been enough to have me practically begging her for sex. It wasn’t something that I did- ever, but for her I would have made an exception. She turned onto her side and lifted herself into a side plank. As she did this, she was forced to flex her ass, which caused her yoga pants to go from gym appropriate to indecent in seconds. The pants were virtually non-existent near her ass, looking like they were, instead, masterful tattoos.

As I watched, however, I felt nothing. My libido was still MIA, but worse, as I stared at Jessica, at how her body stretched and bent, at her incredible grace and flexibility- I wanted to be just like her.

I marvelled as the woman, who had once been the star of a male fantasy involving Megan Fox, myself and a king-sized bed, reached forward, her entire body moving fluidly as she effortlessly touched her toes from a standing position.

Jessica turned to look at me on the couch. She smiled, “Riley, if you want to join in you can. Some movements will be too hard for you, but I’ll start you off with an easy pose. We can even make it fun. Like if you name an animal, I’ll show you the pose for it. Then you can try! Does that sound like fun?”

I wasn’t a complete beginner when it came to yoga, but I didn’t attend the classes in order to improve my core and flexibility or to strengthen my back muscles. I went for the yoga pants. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, but the pants were almost like the equivalent to bikinis, their entire purpose was to allow the wearers to show off. Women who didn’t want guys watching wore one piece bathing suits. Now, however, the pants were just ‘pretty’. They demonstrated Jessica’s incredible flexibility but nothing else.

I shook my head vigourously, but Jessica smiled. She said, “You’d be surprised how flexible you are, Riley. I promise that it’ll be fun. What’s your favourite animal?”

I replied, “I don’t have one.”

Jessica frowned, “Really? I loved horses at your age. Still do. During the summer, I’d sometimes go horseback riding at my cottage. You must like horses.”

I shook my head, but Jessica, ever persistent, said, “Cats. Dogs. Bunnies. Have you ever been to the zoo?”

I said, “I lived in an orphanage until the lady from the studio took me to be on the Hermie show. What do you think?”

Jessica smirked, “Six going on sixteen, hmm?” Her face hardened, “Sorry, Riley. Of course you haven’t been to the zoo. I guess you probably haven’t seen any animals either. You just remind me so much of my niece. I forget who I’m talking to sometimes.”

My shoulders sagged, and in that moment, I wanted the couch underneath me to swallow me whole. “W-What about me makes you think I’m like her?” I said the words with extreme trepidation.

Jessica nodded, “You both have pretty hair and pretty blue eyes. You look a lot alike. But you definitely act different!”

I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that Jessica had abated my fears regarding the comparison to her niece. No, I was too caught up in her comments, the effects of which had started to seep into my brain like a designer drug. Pretty eyes. Pretty hair. Pretty dress. Pretty girl.

Eve’s comments, the woman in the elevator and now Jessica’s, all of them combined began to play with my self-image. Allied with this mindset were my own thoughts on the matter, how all of those factors created the perfect girl. Images of the trim waist of the Elsa figure skating doll, her gorgeous pearly white smile and her long, luxurious hair filtered into my mind. This merged with Jessica in her yoga pants, slender form, fierce, powerful yet feminine.

These images represented perfection. A haze descended on my mind, muddying my thoughts. While I inhabited this body, breathed, felt a heart beat within it, I had never actually pictured myself as Kaylee. I still thought of myself as Ryan, and I pictured myself that way too. Since the dream, which placed Eve as my mother and me squarely as Kaylee, however, reasserting my proper- my true self-image had proven difficult.

Moments after the compliment, it became impossible.

I saw myself growing up, looking like Jessica, Elsa- and even though the latter was a fictional character, her image- her form was burned into my mind.

Pretty eyes. Pretty hair. Pretty dress. Pretty girl.

Jessica looked at me worriedly, “Are you OK, Riley? You kind of checked out on me there.”

I nodded slowly, “Uh. Yeah. I’m OK.”

Jessica smiled, “Good. I was thinking, would you like to go to the zoo? I’m almost done my work for today. There’s one not too far from here.”

I replied, “I can’t leave the apartment, remember? Someone might recognize me.”

Jessica frowned, “Right. Sorry, I got a bit caught up in the fact you haven’t really been anywhere.”

I said, “It doesn’t bother me. I know I’m safer here. I like Greg and Eve, and I trust them. Plus, if I get bored I can just watch movies or play video games.”

Jessica said, “But girls your age shouldn’t just be doing that. Do you like to paint or colour? I could bring some colouring books over tomorrow! You must have some crayons. Or we could make friendship bracelets. And how come you never play with any toys?”

I shook my head vigourously, “No, I don’t want to do any of those things. And I don’t like toys.”

Jessica furrowed her brow, causing her face to gain an unattractive almost Cro-Magnon look. Her brow lurched forward, but as they did, they were forced closer together. OK. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but she was starting to piss me off with all the questions.

“H-How can you not like toys? Like any toys? I don’t know how that is even possible. You must like at least some toys. Didn’t you have toys in the studio?”

I said, “No. None. Mrs. Daniels put us on a shelf at night and then took us down in the morning. We shot for 14 straight hours and then it was back to bed.”

Jessica raised a brow, “Well I’m going to show you what you are missing out on, Riley. You know games and movies, they fill in the story for you. Don’t you think it would be fun to make up your own stories? What if I told you that you could make up stories that are better than anything you play in a game or in a movie?”

I glared at the young woman, now somewhat glad I never slept with her. She probably would have critiqued my positions, staying power, providing it all in a handy list at the end of the night. Eve mentioned that she was the type who was always trying to improve herself, a person who was tremendously driven. Could I have even handled her? “Look, Eve and Greg just want you look after me when they aren’t here. That’s it. You don’t need to do anything else except make sure I haven’t mysteriously died.”

Jessica closely scrutinized me after my little speech. She took nearly half a minute to actually break the pause in our conversation. She addressed me with a smile, “I get that you’ve had a really hard time, Riley. None of what has happened to you is fair. But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve missed out. You don’t know what you are missing because you’ve never experienced it, never felt how amazing it feels to create something.”

I replied, “I was an actor on a show. Of course I know what that feels like.”

Jessica said softly, “You probably didn’t say your own lines though. You didn’t get to choose what you got to do. It wasn’t your story. It was someone else’s. I have so many fun crafts we could do. Or you could paint or draw. It’s good to use your imagination, Riley. My niece, her eyes just light up every time I say I have a new craft for her to do. She loves it. I’ll bring some supplies tomorrow. I just know you’ll love it once you get started.”

I sighed heavily and jumped onto my phone/phablet, quickly texting Eve:

Me: thx 4 leaving me w mrs fucking cut n paste

Eve: sorry she gets into a kid mode i really wasnt sure what else to do no other choice

Me: I guess how do I get her out of that she says shes bringing stuff 2morrow

Eve: ill talk to her

Eve: u could tell her the truth

Eve: you know about you

Me: no fucking way humiliating I dont want her to know who i am

Eve: y do u care so much

Me: fuck off eve

Eve: 

***

Thankfully, the next day, Eve was home, so I was saved from a potential craft activity day with Jessica. I wasn’t sure what painting or colouring would do, but considering the difficulty I was having controlling my self-image- the very fabric of who I was, it was probably not a good idea. Unbridled imagination was definitely something to avoid, even if it meant stifling my creativity. My gangster depression era story turned Frozen fanfiction was proof enough of the result of that. Still, if she put a fucking paintbrush in my hand, would I really have the sudden urge to draw magical glitter fairies, pink horses or dancing dresses?

“Maybe we should tell her. It would be a lot safer for you, Ryan. What happens if she comes here tomorrow, an armful of art supplies, glitter, glue and construction paper and you just lose it? A literal art attack. I only told her as much as I thought she needed to hear at the time, but I forgot how opinionated Jessica is. I don’t think she’s going to drop it. She called me yesterday to tell me that she wasn’t sure that Greg and I are doing a good job with the video games and the movies.”

I sat across from Eve munching on a bowl of Lucky Charms. Greg tended to buy sugared cereals, and while I wasn’t used to eating breakfast, I found that I was actually hungry. Apparently, it made a difference waking up at 8 AM versus 12 PM. I loved the taste of the marshmallows, and since I couldn’t drink a cup of coffee, it was a good alternative. It wasn’t like I had convinced Greg to buy me the kid’s elephant cereal that turned the milk pink.

“She actually told you that you are doing a shitty job?”

Eve replied, “She’s not as direct as you. She basically said she wanted to encourage you to try some normal age-appropriate activities. She said she wouldn’t push you, but I doubt she’ll have to push you much.”

I remarked, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Eve sighed, “Do I have to remind you about the doll? From what you explained, you only had to touch it and you were off to the magical land of Arrendelle with a vengeance. What do you think is going to happen if Jessica puts a paintbrush in your hand or a crayon?”

I sneered, “That happened one time. And I was just feeling shitty about kind of losing it playing that stupid board game. If she puts a paintbrush in my hand, I’ll just tell her to fuck off, that I don’t want to do it. You said it yourself. She’s not going to push me.”

Eve shook her head, “You don’t have a good record with these kinds of things. When you were freaking out about not finding girls hot, you ran into some girls and played with them. Right, Cecily? You said it happened when you played with Sophia and Emma too, right? Well with the social worker-“

“What the fuck is happening with that anyway? Is she going to piss off now?”

Eve said calmly, “I’m not sure yet.”

I said, “What do you mean you’re not sure? You talked to her the day after, told her Jessica was staying with me. What’s the fucking problem?”

Eve replied, “It’s a little more complicated than that because of this medical condition.”

I angrily gobbled up the rest of my cereal, downing the milk in a big gulp. “I don’t have a medical condition or any bullshit like that.”

Eve frowned and turned away from me. I stabbed the end of my spoon into the table, adding another groove into it. “You don’t fucking believe her do you? So I get nervous sometimes. I think I can get a pass on that considering I was part of something that belongs in some shitty science fiction story.”

Eve said, “Anyway, Ms. McDavid didn’t say she was dropping the investigation yet. But I think I can convince her. We just have to make sure next time she visits that someone is staying with you. Jessica’s agreed to come over anytime we need her. I still think you should consider telling her. We can definitely trust her. But we can’t stop her from being herself.”

“She’s going to treat you like her niece until you tell her. What’s the problem with telling her anyway? I mean beyond it being embarrassing at first.”

I snapped, “I just don’t want to tell her, OK? Why do you need to know the reason? I think we’ve already told her enough.”

A little smile crept onto Eve’s face, “You still have feelings for her, don’t you? All that stretching she does for her web show actually fuelling a fire down there? Or is this legit?”

I said, “Look, it’s like- let’s say we tell her and then I get turned back. I’d never be able to fuck her. It would just be weird.”

The smile never left Eve’s face, “I call bullshit on that one, Ryan. You’ve been on exactly one date with this girl. And it sucked- for her. She agrees to another one for some reason. You stand her up for reasons that now make perfect sense. I get the aspect of humiliation- the whole oh my god I’m a little girl in front of her part. I get it. But I don’t think this is a macho head game thing. With a girl like Monique maybe. Yeah, you’d probably never be able to have sex with her again. But with Jessica? It’s something else.”

I replied quickly, “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t even like her. And fuck if she’s not really goddamn annoying treating me like her niece. How the hell can you think that I actually like her still?”

Eve smirked, “Because we’re still having this conversation. If you didn’t like her, you would have told me to fuck off. You are that direct with stuff like this. You remember that friend of mine who liked you? Carmella? You told me straight up that she wasn’t your type. Actually, you said she was a grenade. Which was, by the way, wonderful to hear.”

“You know you are putting yourself at risk if we don’t tell her. But you’re scared how she’s going to react, that she’ll think you are a freak or something?”

I grumbled, but with my high-pitched voice, it was hardly gravelly; instead, it was more like a whining wheeze. It reeked of little girl not getting her way, the beginning of an epic tantrum. Without thinking, my arms crossed underneath my chest and jaw protruded in a slight pout. “Okay, fine. I’m as surprised as you. I really thought I was completely broken down there.”

Eve replied, “Well maybe you can’t feel anything for her sexually, but you can like her as a person. That’s not a bad thing, Ryan.”

I sighed, “Yeah. Well she’s just different from so many other girls I dated. She kind of reminds me of Hannah. She challenges me. She’s funny and smart. Anyway, what happened to not dating your friends?”

Eve said, “Well here’s the thing. Even if I told her that you were the worst thing since Hitler, Jessica wouldn’t listen to me. Believe me, I’ve tried. And I know that she’s the kind of girl who won’t put up with your bullshit. I also know she’s a very caring girl too. She’s not going to make fun of you. It might be hard to get her to understand at first. But Greg and I can help.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m just worried that all she’s going to see is Riley after I’ve turned back. Like we’ll never be able to move past it. I might never get another chance with her.”

Eve replied, “Well Riley is all she sees now. And if you aren’t careful, it really will be all she ever sees.”

***

It was like Christmas. From a shopping bag marked ‘Dollar Mart’, tumbled a Frozen bingo game, multiple colouring books featuring various Disney princesses, a water colour paint set, several boxes of crayons, tubes of glue, felt, pipe cleaners and three what had to be empty egg cartons.

The items slid over each other, fighting for real estate on the kitchen table. Jessica stood over the pile with a satisfied grin. Her eyes darted toward mine, likely hoping for the equivalent of raw jubilation. I knew that this was going to happen. Three days ago, Eve had warned me that Jessica was planning this, and considering how persistent she was, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Each item, harmless and even a wonderful gift to most, would peck away at my brain matter, fulfilling the final aim of the serum- a little girl unrecognizable from Ryan Sullivan. Why did I even care what Jessica thought of me? And how could I have feelings for someone who was treating me this way? It didn’t make any sense.

Hannah.

Jessica was the closest thing to Hannah that I had experienced. Every other girl that I dated, fucked or even talked to- no one else was even close. Monique was hot and an amazing fuck, but she was, in truth, an uncompassionate bitch. Other girls I dated were similar, and because I tended to choose the girls who were vulnerable (they were easier lays), I really had no chance to meet someone like Hannah. Until Jessica came along.

She was everything that Hannah had been, and I knew that from one date. I realized that I actually did want a challenge, desperately. Not in the sense of getting her in bed (not that I would say no), but more along the lines of seeing if I could get out of my pattern.

What met Jessica’s eyes was fear.

“Riley, are you OK? It’s really hot in here, isn’t it? I bet I can convince Eve and Greg to buy an air conditioner. Actually, I’m doing OK with the YouTube show. Maybe I’ll just get one as a surprise. I never got them anything for their new apartment.”

She was doing well. Unsurprisingly, a leggy, incredibly hot blond, who knew what she was talking about, sounded sexy, and looked even better, was an internet hit. There were so many like her out there, but she stood out because of her personality. She was genuinely funny, but the hotness helped too. She had men and women checking out her page in the hundreds, then thousands. While I was learning how to piss sitting down, Jessica was becoming a very successful YouTuber. With the way the site monetized their videos, a person like Jessica, who released a video every two days, could actually make a living at it.

She wasn’t there yet, but she could obviously afford an 80$ air conditioner.

“If it wasn’t so hot out, and you know, we could actually go outside, I’d take you to the beach. Teach you how to water ski with my dad’s boat. Or we could go horseback riding or for a hike. There’s some really pretty flowers on the trail behind my apartment.”

If I hadn’t been in love with the idea of dating Jessica before, her previous words would have solidified it. She was a girl after my own heart. Sure, I played games and watched movies, but I also loved camping, hunting- just being outside. Eve and Greg were both kind of chained to the apartment, neither going out much after their respective shifts. Maybe it had something to do with the long hours they worked.

I knew that we couldn’t leave the apartment, and my initial joy at hearing that Jessica was nearly a carbon copy of Hannah soon faded into a deep frown. It went beyond a simple feeling of sadness however. A golf ball-sized lump formed in my throat, while my stomach tied itself in knots. It tightened and my breathing was soon punctuated by a pathetic girlish wheeze.

For fuck’s sake. I was going to cry…because I couldn’t go outside.

The reality dawned on me. I hadn’t been outside since the ill-fated shopping trip, and I wouldn’t be leaving the apartment for the foreseeable future. I knew now what Eve was talking about. It wasn’t only creativity in acting, sex, video games and a love of movies that made Ryan Sullivan. It was just being outside, fresh air, and being active. Yes, I had wanted to skip with Emma and Sophia, but I wanted to be outside even more. With the breaking of the story on the studio, it was a simple freedom that I had lost.

Jessica’s mouth opened gently, while her brows furrowed. Her eyes softened. She looked at me the same way she might if I had scraped my knee, and I was in the middle of deciding whether the injury warranted waterworks. “Oh, Riley! I’m so, sorry! I didn’t realize that you loved being outside so much. When Eve told me about the movies and games, I just figured you didn’t like it, and I would have had to drag you out if we got a chance.”

A tiny tear dribbled down my cheek, which caused me to rapidly shut my eyes. I turned away from Jessica and ran into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

I could never tell Jessica the truth now. Not after she had seen me cry. Hannah had never seen me cry. I had seen Greg cry before, especially when he and Eve have had a heated argument, but I wasn’t like him. I had control over my emotions, and I certainly wasn’t some fucking leaky faucet.

Moments later, I heard a light knock on the door. “Riley, I’m so sorry. Please come out. I promise we can still have a lot of fun out here. And if you don’t want to do any of the things I suggest, we can just watch a movie. Anything you like.”

I squeaked, “Any movie?”

After a short pause, Jessica replied, “Y-Yeah. Anything you like. I promise.”

I sniffled lightly, wiping my eyes with an arm. “Okay, I’ll come out.”

I half expected Jessica to try and convince me to make an egg shell alligator or something, but she kept her promise. By the time I returned to the couch, the bright red Netflix screen was already displayed on the TV.

Netflix offered an unending selection of movies, television shows and documentaries. I had grown up first with VHS tapes, and my family joined the DVD revolution about three years after it started. By then, we had amassed two bookshelves of VHS tapes, but it still paled in comparison to what Netflix offered. Still, I had fond memories of the old tapes, especially the Godfather boxset, which I watched with my dad probably a thousand times.

Jessica frowned as she began flicking through the selections. “Weird. Greg and Eve don’t like horror movies. But it’s like they just watched a marathon. “Piranhas in Space”, “Nazi Zombies from Hell”, and…”Lovely Ladies of Deviant Desire” You didn’t watch these did you, Riley?

Jessica looked at me sternly, “I know Eve said to let you watch anything you wanted, but these don’t seem appropriate at all. Wait, this isn’t your account is it?”

I shrugged my shoulders as Jessica rapidly flicked to the top of the screen. She must have been so surprised by the recently watched list that she initially failed to see “TOP PICKS FOR RYAN”. I had stupidly left my account signed in.

Jessica looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and anger. I immediately looked away, but her eyes quickly sought my own and zeroed in with such ease that she might as well have been using a laser-assisted sniper rifle. She had me dead-to-rights.

“Riley, has there been a guy named Ryan around here recently?” The second my eyes veered away, Jessica met them, forcing their return to dead centre. Did she still have feelings for me? Was that why she looked so hurt before?

I answered, “N-No. I don’t think s-so.” I had all the confidence of someone trying to learn to drive stick on a peppy clutch, and my stutter perfectly matched the motion of the many, many stalls that would occur.

Jessica frowned, again looking hurt. She turned away from me momentarily and sighed, “It’s not nice to lie, Riley.”

I quickly added, “Um. Greg said that this Ryan guy might be using his password and stuff.”

Jessica said softly, “Figures. He’s probably still in Vancouver. I’m sorry I accused you, Riley. That wasn’t very nice.” She brightened, and incredibly, so did the entire room. The sudden pall that had descended on us, the accusations and bitterness, was washed away in an instant. “So, how about that movie?”

Jessica deposited the remote in my hands and said, “Choose anything you want, Riley.”

As I flicked through the choices, when I would hover over a horror movie or something that was rated ‘R’, Jessica would gently grumble. It was wordless disapproval of any potential choices.

“I’m kind of surprised they haven’t set up a kids account for you, Riley. You have to know that a lot of these movies could really scare you. I know my niece was really scared of vampire movie that she ‘accidentally’ watched on Netflix. We don’t want you to have nightmares.”

I said firmly, “I’m not scared of anything.”

Jessica grinned, “Well OK. But I am. I don’t like horror movies much. But you’re really brave, I bet you can handle this. It’s one of my favourites.” She hovered over ‘Avengers’ and clicked play. I smiled contentedly, both because I really liked the movie and due to the fact that Jessica apparently loved superhero movies. They were my second favourite genre.

Fuck. Jessica was the perfect girl for me. We had similar taste in movies, loved being outside, and she was ridiculously hot. I thought about this as we watched the movie together, turning at times to see her reaction to various parts. She wasn’t wooden, like Monique- she showed genuine concern when the heroes were in danger, and she actually got into the action scenes like I did, even pumping her fists at times. Would she have shown me this side of her personality, the one that wasn’t trying so hard to impress me with her knowledge of kinetics or whatever?

I wasn’t sure how long into the movie we were, but my eyes gradually started to feel heavy. With the heaviness of my eyes, came the drooping of my head and a quickly offered pillow across Jessica’s lap.

I lay my head down on the pillow without thinking as my eyes slowly drooped shut. Just as quickly as they closed, however, they flew open as I regained my temporal awareness. Sleep continued to descend on me as remaining awake became a losing battle.

It wasn’t really how I pictured our second date ending, but then, it was better than egg shell alligators or Frozen bingo. Eventually, I found that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, each eyelid feeling like it had a ten pound weight attached to it. It couldn’t have been later than 7:30 or 8, but I was exhausted.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually, I felt my head being slowly shifted off of Jessica’s lap and onto the couch.

A sweet voice said, “Good night, Riley.”

***

NoobKillaz567: Killer_Six, where ya been?

SnipezYA_1234: Did you get grounded? Or were you too busy playing with your dolls?

The insult needled my brain, just as laughter filled my headset. I had shown these assholes that I could play on the same level as them, but they still treated me like a little girl. In death matches, I had a better record than both of them combined, and I had reached elite level with fewer deaths. I knew it was trash talking, and lame trash talking at that, but it…it hurt. It hurt way more than it should have.

It made me think of how I treated girl gamers, especially the ones that were good. Trash talking was part of the game, but now that I was on the other end- well it sucked. They weren’t little kids either. Most of them were probably teenagers or about my age. It didn’t matter though. As a guy, you never wanted to get beat by a girl, especially in a video game. You’d never live it down.

That’s why I took every opportunity to get the very best girls off their game. It was an art really, and while I trash talked everyone, I saved the most vile insults for the girls racking up kill counts. It didn’t take long for most of them. A double-barreled assault on their weight and their lack of boyfriend, playing off their insecurities, was usually enough to take them off their game. I was constantly in their ear, reminding them that they were losers- nothings. It’s what I did to those I couldn’t beat fairly. My victims were not only female, but when a girl killed me twice in a row, and especially when she tea bagged me, it was on. The ones who proclaimed they had loving boyfriends, were supermodel gorgeous were called cum-drizzling whores or opportunistic gold diggers (with a wealthy boyfriend). Eventually, I would find something that would rile my female opponents. In the lower tiers, language and treatment like that wasn’t tolerated, but in the elite division, where the very best could play in tournaments and make real money in e-Sports, it was often vicious. I was never good enough for upper elite ranking, but I was no slouch either.

The comments coming from my teammates were actually really tame in comparison. It was clear that I was just more of a pussy. I took a deep breath and replied.

Me: My fucking idiot brother broke the 360, so we had to wait for it to get fixed.

NoobKillaz567: How’d he break it?

Me: He was nailing this chick against the wall, and well...

Laughter crackled in my headset, and as it did, my heart leapt.

NoobKillaz567: I will never get over you talking like that. Your parents seriously never get mad at you for talking like that? I’m 24 and my mom would smack the stupid out of me.

Me: Fuck, no. Can we play now, or are you guys just sitting around jerking off? Just warn me if you are going to be one handing it, so I know I have to carry your asses. More than fucking usual.

SnipezYA_1234: You really sound like your brother.

Me: I’ll take that as a compliment.

NoobKillaz567: Don’t you get in trouble at school?

Me: Guys. I’m here to fucking game. Just quit with this shit. We’re on the same team, and you’re pissing me off.

Silence. Nothing crackled in my headset as we waited for the multiplayer team death match to fill up. Unlike capture the flag, team death matches were a complete free-for-all. They didn’t require nearly as many tactics except being quick on the trigger and deadly accurate. We entered the arena, and armed with my new controller, I quickly started racking up sniper kills. It was a rinse and repeat tactic, but I knew the maps so well that I could always avoid being flanked, and as soon as I got a few shots off, I would sprint to the next eagle’s nest. Most of my hapless victims actually had to watch the kill-cam to learn how they had died.

I went on such a massive kill streak, one of the four teams actually dropped out of the game completely, choosing to forfeit and take the hit to their team ranking rather than mess with their kill-death ratio. If the number of deaths a player has eclipses their total server-wide kills, they get bumped off the elite server.

NoobKillaz567: Hey, sorry about before. I know we’re just here to play. I’ll stop with the questions.

SnipezYA_1234: You’re just a little more sensitive than your brother. It’s hard for us to know how to talk to you. Especially when you sound like him half the time.

We won the match easily, and I managed to get more kills than anyone on either team. A new team joined for the next multiplayer match, but it didn’t matter- I was in a zone. My streak continued into the next game, as I got three kills within the first thirty seconds. Either they had lowered the standards for elite class, or I was getting better- way better.

I zeroed in on my next target, a clueless Spartan attempting to reach my sniper’s nest from the front with no suppressing fire. The player might as well have just stood in the open waving his arms with a massive neon bullseye painted across his chest. It was a rookie mistake.

I set the target in my sights and moved to pull the trigger on the laser rifle. Just as I was pushing down the button, however, my screen flashed red, indicating I was receiving damage. A second later, the kill-cam revealed that I had been shot in the back. I had been killed by a player that I had decimated in the previous game.

My headset crackled.

Spartan4Lyfe: Fucked you up. I got your ass for the rest of this game. I know you, you’re the kid, right? The one they’ve been talking about in the forums? Are you really a six year old kid?

While I felt slightly deflated to have my kill streak end, I had owned the trash talker in the previous game, and I figured he was just lucky. I had been cocky and let my guard down, essentially staying in the same place too long.

Me: Yeah. And I’m also a girl. A girl that fucking raped you in the last game.

I actually felt proud. Kind of. In a world where I looked up at 95% of the population, where I was viewed as a weakling, an object to be fawned over by cheek-pinching grandmothers and childless aging women, it was refreshing to gain the advantage. I had used my looks, my cuteness factor at the beach to manipulate that future roid rager, and while it was successful, it was also part of the issue of being an adorable six-year old girl. I was first seen as cute, as pretty, as anything but a person. Most adults, save Mrs. Feinstein, spoke to me the same way they would a dog.

Was this why Ashley wanted so desperately to be a real actress? Why she fought so hard against being typecast as the action hero’s girlfriend? Nearly everyone I met treated me that way, like I was some kind of fucking…talking doll.

I always figured that girls like Ashley had it pretty easy. Free drinks, free rides. She could have married some rich guy and waited for him to die. But it all came with a price- and that was feeling like a lesser person. Like pretty skin over pretty bones, but nothing in between.

Hollow.

So, it was obvious why I would feel proud. It wasn’t that I was a girl doing it- no, it had more to do with actually being treated equally. My teammates trash talked me, but I gave as good as I got, and usually more. While it was just a video game, here I was a threat, and the people talking to me weren’t complimenting my hair or telling me how cute I looked in a dress. No, they were congratulating me on a kill or bitching out my existence as they watched the kill-cam footage while they waited for a respawn.

I planned my revenge- a tea bagging right in front of his team respawn point, a shared kill-cam video that would bring online disgrace. It would be incredibly humiliating especially because I was a- well not really a girl. I didn’t identify as one, but it would bring the humiliation to rage quit levels. As I mentally set the route to the enemy respawn point, my own respawn timer counted down from five to one, until finally, my avatar popped into existence.

My screen turned red.

Spartan4Lyfe: Told you I had your ass, kid.

NoobKillaz567: Hey Killer_Six, you need help? Me and Snipez are getting pounded by a fucking Wraith.

Me: Just a fucking spawn camper. It’s the last time he’ll get me.

Five seconds later, I was back, though this time spawning in a different location. While respawn points were static, players killed in one spawn location rarely rematerialized in the same spot. This was to avoid rewarding spawn campers with easy kills.

My screen turned red again.

Me: Fuck! How the hell did he get there so fast?

I realized, however, that I hadn’t been killed by the same player, but I had been spawn camped again. I gripped my controller tightly as I waited to respawn. My positive kill-death ratio was quickly being erased, and while I had dominated in the previous game, it wouldn’t mean much if I continued dying. OK. Fair enough, I had completely decimated Spartan’s team in the previous game. They were understandably pissed, and they clearly knew I was six and a girl on top of that. Still, I knew exactly where they had hit me from, so if they stayed in the same place (i.e. camped), I would have my kills back in less than a minute.

There were four respawn points on the map, but only three players per team. It would be impossible for Spartan’s team to continually spawn camp me as I would eventually respawn in a safe location. So, as I watched the respawn counter, I again planned my revenge. I would commandeer the Wraith and then rain plasma mortar death over the spawn campers. Three-two-one.

(S)hocker1999 killed Killer_Six

The controller nearly fell from my hands as I stared at the screen in astonishment. Both teams were now spawn camping me. My kill-death ratio was now in the negative, but worse than that, it was becoming clear that unless I disconnected from the session, I might lose elite status altogether.

The constant diversion but sparing of my teammates made it obvious that the two teams were working together to force the six year old girl to rage quit. This was confirmed moments later when I spawned in a completely different location, only to be killed immediately.

I threw the controller on the floor and balled my little hands into fists. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, I closed my eyes, feeling my whole body shake. Normally, my biceps would have pulsated as I flexed, but my skinny arms simply quivered, lacking any discernible muscle tone.

Again, and again I was killed as my negative kill-death ratio entered double digits.

While I was beyond angry, a sort of pathetic arm waving spitting rage, I began to feel something else. A memory flashed. I was eight years old and starting at a new school. I recalled the six graders that let me hang out with them if I ate grass. As I chewed clumps of thinly bladed grass into a greenish paste, the older kids laughed. At the time, I lacked the understanding that the laughter was aimed directly at me, and they let me play with them, so it didn’t matter, but once I found out the truth- that they weren’t my feel friends…

It was like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I remembered never wanting to go back to that school, especially after they called me grass eater and butt man (only after I ate the cigarette butt).

I was really hurt. Just like now.

My anger quickly dissipated as tears formed in my eyes. Shocked by my behaviour but completely slave to my emotions, I struggled to understand what was happening to me as the screen continued to flash red.

NoobKillaz567: Shit, she’s crying. Fuck, what do we do?

SnipezYA_1234: Hell if I know, her brother was never beat like this.

NoobKillaz567: Her brother never got fucking triple teamed like that either.

I was crying? I hadn’t even noticed, but my cheeks were wet and there was an unpleasant lump in my throat that was growing.

Spartan4Lyfe: OK, little girl, we’ll stop, but you need to hit the glowing green button on the front of the big white box. Think you can do that?

My voice was a strangled cry, one borne of a returning anger mixed with the supreme sense of sadness.

Me: W-Why…Why are you being so mean to me? Y-You’re not playing fair!

While I had played dirty in many online multiplayer matches, especially in taunting and verbally dismantling my opponents, I never really had a problem with it, nor was I ever targeted in a way that so clearly broke the rules. Rules. I had an expectation that the other team would play fair and follow the rules. How else were we supposed to have fun?

Laughter crackled in my headset.

Spartan4Lyfe: Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on elite, kid. Our team is trying to get a sponsor. You really think we are just playing for fun? You really are fucking six aren’t you?

More laughter crackled in my headset. My teammates, the cowards, stayed silent.

What was happening to me wasn’t fair, but Spartan was right, it wasn’t a question of fairness. The game was about domination, and while some played it for fun, there were probably just as many playing it because they couldn’t get laid, sucked in school, for them it was more than a game, especially when money- lots of money- might be involved.

I knew this, but I just couldn’t get over how unfair I was being treated. I just wanted to have fun and play with my friends…and for that to happen everyone needed to follow the rules.

I took a deep breath, desperately trying to regain some semblance of adult thought. If some six year old kid dared kill me twice, I would have had her crying to her parents- had her quit the game permanently. As I tried to see the logic in my decimation, I looked down at the coffee table to see my phone nearly vibrating off the edge. Moments later, the apartment door opened and in stepped Jessica, trailed by a little blond-haired girl.

Chapter 22

“Riley! What’s wrong? I know Eve said she’d be back soon, but I’m going to stay the day with you. And look I brought a friend for you!”

My mind didn’t know how to handle what was happening to me. I was still feeling incredibly hurt, my elite ranking was being whittled away one red streak at a time, and a little blonde girl with dual pigtails was staring at me with eyes so wide I was certain she had just done mushrooms. She slipped in behind Jessica’s lithe form, peeking her head out to stare at what was probably an extremely ‘hot mess’ of a little girl.

For one, I couldn’t stop crying. The tears at first had come slowly merely dribbling down my face, but once I completely lost it, I was quickly soaked. Sandwiched between pathetic sobbing were moans, which while barely intelligible, clearly sounded the word “unfair” multiple times. The pain from the glass entered my knee, the blood and torn flesh- it all made perfect sense. I was six, and my threshold for pain had significantly lowered, but here…here I was crying.

I didn’t even really know why. The game had turned unfair, and I was getting massacred, but was it that, or the fact I couldn’t control myself? Was it because I was doing all of this in front of Jessica of all people? Was it the danger surrounding the arrival of her niece? It had to be the unfairness, but in the chaos, my mind was like one of Hannah’s cats with a fucking laser pointer. Insane. There was no other way to put it. In those moments, where my chest heaved, my now bitten and torn nails pressed firmly into my palms, I didn’t have a mind- rational thought, anything.

“Riley! What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you hurt yourself?”

Jessica was kneeling down in front of me, but I barely noticed her. All I did was point at the screen. The young woman frowned, looking down at the fallen controller before calmly plucking the headset from me.

“Riley, it’s OK, it’s just a game. You can’t always win.”

My lip quivered and a grave sigh wracked my body, expelling what seemed like an impossible amount of air. Seconds later, I heard chatter in the headset.

“Killer Who? I’m her babysitter.”

“Well yes, she’s crying. What’s going on here?” Jessica sounded older than her actual age, but I knew that she hated video games. She had mentioned it on her YouTube channel when asked about starting a Let’s Play. She thought they were a waste of time, and her brother was addicted, which meant she had probably seen all this behaviour before.

“Guys look, I’m just going to turn it off. She’s really upset. I know enough about this to see what’s going on.”

And just like that, Jessica reached forward and pressed the glowing green button on the 360. The machine powered down with a soft hum.

Jessica knelt down in front of me, “It’s OK, Riley. They were picking on you weren’t they?”

I nodded my head glumly and then managed to choke out a pitiful “Uh huh.” My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of gravel- my voice reduced to a hoarse murmur.

Jessica smiled and then sat down next to me on the couch, “You’re probably better than them, right?”

I nodded, feeling a slight lift in my spirits. Jessica added, “It’s just how it is with some boys, Riley. I had a friend named Nathan, and I was about your age. I used to have a lot of fun with him, except when we played sports. Well I beat him at badminton and he-… he threw a strawberry popsicle in my hair. Boys can just be like that. My brother would get so mad when I’d beat him at a game, especially a video game. They don’t like to lose to us because we are girls. Because we aren’t supposed to be good at stuff like that. But it’s dumb, right?”

“You can do whatever you want, Riley. And don’t let some stupid boys tell you differently. OK?”

It sounded like a feminist pep talk. The whole you can be anything you want- you can be a doctor, an astronaut, or even President of the United States. It was what feminist mothers told their future feminist daughters, but it actually…it actually felt kind of nice, almost comforting. Despite not being a real girl, I certainly felt like one as I was taunted by Spartan, as I cried my eyes out at the unfairness of everything. Ryan Sullivan was never targeted in that way.

I knew that the guys I played with were assholes, even my own teammates could be colossal dickheads sometimes depending on their mood, but I was starting to see the truth in some of Ashley’s words- and now Jessica’s. Guys didn’t like it when they were shown up. At the gym, if a girl benched as much as a guy, they were dykes. They probably had dicks. No, they were expected to look like Jessica. Again, it wasn’t- well it wasn’t fair. But what was I feeling? I knew that I felt sympathy for Ashley and Jessica, but did I only understand their point of view because I was actually starting to think and even act like a girl? I never remember feeling bad for even a second when I would outrun or out throw some girl in my class. If they wanted to play with the boys, they needed to be as good as us. And this transcended to adult life, especially in professional sports. The WNBA is a walking joke, having trouble filling the same venues that sell out night after night for even the worst teams in the NBA. Football is even worse, where the equivalent is lingerie clad models playing some of the most awful football imaginable. Yeah, the girls in their short, barely-there shorts, is hot, but in the end, it is still really bad football. Why watch a sport being played badly when I could ogle girls on my phone with a real sport in the background?

Still, as much as I tried to ignore them, Jessica’s words seeped into my skull, making me feel closer to her. God, it was like some kind of fucking sisterhood. A cult. At least Jessica’s little talk allowed me to stop crying.

“Brianna, come here, sweetie. It’s OK. Why don’t you tell Riley that joke you told me in the car?”

My pity party ended quickly as I realized the danger of my situation. I picked up my phone and sent a text to Eve. Brianna was clearly very shy, but it was obvious that she was here because Jessica wanted us to be friends, and Jessica would push us together even if I tried to fend her niece off with a pointy stick.

Me: what the fuck? Jessica brought her niece u need to get back here ASAP

Eve: shit but can’t super shorthanded 2day try greg

Me: u can’t leave me here with her u know how Jessica is

Eve: I’ve been missing a lot of work lately having to leave early I got a reprimand gotta stay srry gotta go

I texted Greg, but the idiot didn’t answer. He probably had his phone on vibrate. I thought about calling the restaurant, but I would have to leave for the bathroom to do it. The problem was too, when I did it from Mrs. Feinstein’s place, she never asked questions. It made perfect sense that if Greg or Eve was home that Mrs. Feinstein’s services wouldn’t be needed. In this case, we would have to come up with a reason for Jessica and Brianna to leave, and Greg- he sucked at improv.

Brianna approached me cautiously. She was a bright-eyed yet demure little girl, who took short little steps to reach me. Her eyes fluttered and shifted gently in the socket as she gently clasped her hands together. Her every action screamed femininity, like she had been to Mrs. Feinstein’s academy forty years ago or something.

She murmured something, a voice less than a whisper. Jessica frowned gently and then leaned in to whisper something in my ear.

“Brianna, is really shy. If you’re feeling better, would you like to play with her? I know you can’t go outside and see kids your age, so I thought you’d love it if I brought her here.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Brianna was nearly a carbon copy of the scripted Kaylee, the girl who hid behind her big sister; she was quiet and painfully shy. She was so shy, in fact, that she had difficulty making friends. Even her big sister Madison only played with her when no one her age was available. To the scripted Madison, her little sister was always a second choice. So, when Kaylee wished for a friend who would laugh and dance and play with her, Hermie arrived and introduced her to a world of imagination and friendship. Did Brianna have the same difficulties?

I didn’t feel any powerful urge to play with her. Unlike Emma, who could be so bossy, or the girl from the beach, she wasn’t holding a skipping rope in my face or telling me my name was Cecily. She was just there. Girls like her, forever wallflowers, were practically invisible next to girls like Jessica. They sat at the bar, nursed the same drink for an hour as their friends danced and got hit on.

As I looked at the quietly smiling Brianna, I felt a strange sense of sympathy. Or something. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but even through her smile, I could tell the girl was sad. She probably had trouble making friends because she was so shy. I mean I wasn’t about to ask her to play dolls or something, but we could probably play Monopoly- as long as it wasn’t Frozen themed.

Plus, it would be fun.

I said, “Let’s play Monopoly.” The smile on Brianna’s face widened.

It was clear that Brianna wasn’t as dangerous as I initially thought. Monopoly, meanwhile, was the perfect game because it would could easily eat three hours, and if Brianna got bored, I would just suggest another board game. Thankfully, Greg and Eve, who had apparently turned into an old married couple since my time in the studio, had a closet full of board games.

Once all the properties were bought up, it was pretty clear that I was going to win. I had Boardwalk and Park Place, not to mention all the railroads. As I realized this, I felt a tiny spark of energy enter my body. This spark raced toward my brain, filling it with all manner of warm and fuzzy thoughts. It was exactly the same sensation that prompted me to flap my arms after winning the Frozen-themed snakes and ladders game.

It was a seemingly inescapable burst, like an exploding frag grenade that flung flesh-rending shrapnel in all directions. I squeezed my legs together, gently rocking back and forth, desperately trying to contain the building excitement. Jessica landed on one of my properties and my face split into a massive smile.

This level of excitement was expected in a game of Halo where I was dominating, but not in a simple game of Monopoly. However, the little girl inside of me that wanted to screech in joy as Jessica handed over hundreds of dollars of fake money was not easily contained.

“Do you have to go to the washroom, Riley?”

My face burned, and while I would have accepted a life-sapping plague at that moment as the culprit, it was entirely from embarrassment. I hurriedly shook my head.

“Sorry, Brianna kind of does that when she’s really holding it in. It’s your turn.”

Just as I was picking up the dice, the apartment door burst open. Brianna shouted in fright, which was the most noise she had made all day. A red-faced and sweating Greg entered, and while it was clear he had something to say, his ragged breathing prevented him from vocalizing it. He bent over, sucking in air like an industrial shop vac. He took a step, but his gait was unsteady as he reached for a hand hold that simply wasn’t there. Jessica moved over to him and led him quickly to the couch.

Jessica sighed, “I guess you didn’t get Eve’s text?”

Greg shook his head slowly. His breathing was slowing, and the cherry red colour of his cheeks was gradually returning to its usual pale white.

Jessica said, “We’re doing just fine here if you want to head back to work.” She turned her head toward me and then Brianna, “Right, girls?” Brianna nodded her head with a smile. I shrugged, unsure if Brianna would remain harmless if she stayed. Although, if she left, I wouldn’t get my eagerly awaited Monopoly win.

Greg, who had finally managed to catch his breath, said, “It’s OK, Jessica. I can stay with Riley if you need to head out. When do you have to have Brianna back?”

Jessica replied, “About dinner time. Don’t worry about it though. You can go back to the Palace. Everything is fine here. Riley and Brianna are getting along great.”

Greg shook his head, “It’s too late to go back now. I already called someone in.”

Jessica smiled, “Alright, then you can be banker.” She handed Greg the tray with the paper play money. Greg looked confused, nonetheless; he still took the tray. He looked at me for approval, and I simply nodded. Time passed quickly. Greg got into his role, even hamming it up with Jessica when she went bankrupt.

At that point, it was down to Brianna and me, and based on my properties and hotel placement, I was still assured victory.

Unfortunately, Monopoly is really fucking long, and as Brianna lost more and more money, she started to fidget. Then, it would take forever for her to roll the dice, then equally as long for her to count her moves. It was infuriating because all I wanted to do was win. Win. Win. Win.

Jessica said, “I think I should take Brianna home. Traffic is probably going to be really bad.” It was obvious she sensed that a tantrum was on the horizon. Greg nodded in agreement.

I wanted to scream, to shout, to kick my legs and displace all the game pieces. Brianna was losing, and she…wait, it was Monopoly, right? Realization struck, and the bizarre fog that had clouded my mind lifted. It was a board game and nothing else.

Just before she left, Brianna said, “Bye, Riley. T-Thanks for the fun game.” Jessica beamed, giving me a look that would have meant a lot more if I was in the body of an adult male. It also would have meant something else too, beyond what was likely appreciation for playing with her practically mute niece. Moments later, she and Brianna were gone.

Greg said, “You OK, Ryan? I didn’t get here too late, did I?”

I shook my head, “It was fine. Nothing to worry about.”

I saw the afternoon as a clear success. Any childlike impulses were quickly reined in, and while I had desperately wanted to win at Monopoly, I avoided what would have been an embarrassing tantrum. Had I kicked my legs, shrieked and whined at being denied my victory, I never would have been able to look at Jessica the same way, as Riley or Ryan.

***

It was the next day. The summer heat was stifling, especially in the apartment. The heat hung heavily in the air, almost tangible. I really hoped Jessica was serious about buying the air conditioner, because even as slight as I was, the heat was still killer. I sat on the couch dressed only in a pair of shorts, a part of me wishing I was at the beach. At that point, I would have also accepted being hosed off like Duke after he rolled around in shit.

Suddenly, Eve’s phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Eve was sleeping, back from a near fourteen hour shift at the hospital. She was better with her phone than Greg, considering she actually left the ringer on most of the time. Because of the nature of her work, with emergencies in the middle of night, hours after the Palace was either open or after it closed, she could receive calls to come into work.

But really, I was going to look anyway, logic or not.

Ms. McDavid was calling.

I partially regretted looking at the phone because immediately my hand began to shake gently and my breathing quickened. Was it more paperwork? Problems with our story? Was the social worker doing another visit? From my understanding, Eve was still working on things. What that hopefully meant was that she told the social worker to fuck off and mind her business but in a more pleasant way. What was the issue anyway? I was never or really rarely home alone anymore with either Eve, Jessica or Greg home, and Mrs. Feinstein would be home in less than a week. The medical condition stuff was bullshit. I was six, and sometimes, my body reacted that way.

The call went to voicemail.

I decided to leave it alone, knowing that Eve would be pissed if I listened to the message before her. Still, I couldn’t help but remain curious, and a little anxious. Throughout the day, as Eve slept, whenever I looked at the flashing blue light on her phone, my hand shook gently.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Eve got up, picked up her phone and listened to the message. I looked at her expectantly. Unlike Greg, whose thoughts were tied directly to his expressions, Eve managed a calm impassiveness.

The waiting was killing me. I should have just listened to the message. Before my change, it is exactly what I would have done, but now, apparently I had respect for Eve’s privacy or something. “Well, what the fuck did she say?”

Eve replied evenly, “It’s just some paperwork Greg and I have to fill out. Standard stuff.”

I nodded, feeling my breathing normalize and my hand stop shaking, “So nothing about that summer camp she wanted me to go to?”

Eve shook her head, “Nothing like that. But you’ll have to stay with Jessica tomorrow. Oh and sorry about Brianna. I had no idea she was going to bring her. I guess things went OK though, other than that?”

I replied, “Yeah. It was fine.”

Eve nodded, “OK, Ryan.”

***

Waves of cool air beat back the oppressive heat. I held my fingers in front of the 8000 Btu Air Master until they grew frigid.

Jessica said, “You know they’ll fall off if you keep them there too long, right?”

I laughed, but it was a tittering, giggly laugh, like tiny bells tinkling down a long silver chain. A great sigh escaped my body, but Jessica seemingly ignored it. She said, “I’ve got another surprise for you too.”

I knew it wouldn’t be anything good, but I tried not to look like Jessica was about to hand me a bunch of rotten eggs. Jessica reached into one of the many shopping bags she brought and pulled out a pink suitcase. It looked eerily familiar to the case from the studio- the one that was full of tiny plastic shoes, bracelets, assorted clothing…

Jessica smiled as she reached down to unclasp the case. Barbie dolls, now released from their plastic prison, tumbled out onto the floor. Some of them looked well worn, like they had spent time in the sun, causing their plastic skin to fade. A mad hairstylist or at least someone who wasn’t good with scissors had given a few of the Barbies ‘creative’ styles. It was clear too that a dog had chewed off the hands of a few of them, as they were left with mangled plastic stumps.

“These were mine when I was a little girl. I got them last week when I went home. I want you to have them, Riley.”

My heart fluttered, allowing the fog to once again cloud my mind. Jessica gave the case another shake, dislodging a Barbie who had been stubbornly hanging from the lip of the container. It fell within an inch of my hand. I looked down and saw beautiful golden tresses mixed with purple and pink and a slender body wearing a pretty light blue bathing suit. Despite the fog, the doll’s ever smiling face sent a shiver of fear up my spine. I knew that taking the plastic toy into my hands would place my mind in a child-like state, one where imagination was boundless. Memories of the toilet paper roll Olaf watching Elsa skate gracefully across the bathroom floor flooded in, causing my hand to recoil from the doll. I couldn’t help but feel like an addict, the uneasy hand reaching toward the pill, the pipe, the needle- knowing that one hit would bring clouded bliss, but like the drug, it would erase my identity, everything I was, until only a smiling little girl remained. Perhaps one at docile and timid as Brianna. Her perfect twin.

Jessica asked, “What’s wrong, Riley? I brought these just for you. We can have so much fun with them. Look at this one.” She picked up the Barbie closest to my hand. “You can change her hair colour with cold and warm water. Ooh and this one is really special because you can braid and bead her hair. Or this one is really fun too! I used to play with her all the time!”

Jessica smiled and thrust a doll into my hands. Looking down, I saw a Barbie wearing a blue and white apron with the “Sweet Treat Café” written on the front in bright pink cursive letters.

Jessica grinned while pulling out a plastic playset from a shopping bag. “Ooh. This is the best. My sister and I used to play for hours with this.” I watched her set up a small kitchen and store front. The Sweet Treat Café was coming to life before my eyes. “See the little oven works here, and there’s a little dinger when it’s done. And there’s some tables for the customers and a counter for them to pay.”

As I listened to Jessica’s words, I grew more and more interested in what she had to say. It wasn’t like my mind became a blank, but as I held the doll, the act of playing restaurant seemed infinitely more interesting than a stupid dumb game of Halo, minus even the massive hit my kill-to-death ratio took. It was fun to pretend and to do things that little girls couldn’t do- yet. I got excited as I saw a baby stroller and suddenly loved the idea that one of the customers could be a Barbie mommy with a baby. I wanted a chance to play the mommy too. And then, Jessica took out another case that was just outfits and I lost it. The bright stylized clothing included skirts, shoes, swim suits, full ball gowns! The clothing hung on tiny plastic hangars. My eyes glazed over, an impossibly wide smile causing my cheeks to dimple, and I saw hundreds of possibilities.

I desperately kept trying to tell myself that this wasn’t me- it was the serum. It was the thing eating away at Ryan Sullivan like a wasting disease. The serum wanted me to be Riley but mostly Brianna. Jessica’s enthusiasm wasn’t helping either. Apparently all little girls played with dolls at some point, even Ashley, who was practically a feminist, had played with Barbies and practiced hair styles using a life-sized plastic head.

“I’ll bake a cake.” The words didn’t so much as escape my mouth as dance, a free flowing movement of pure childlike joy.

Jessica said, “See, I told you that you’d have fun with it. It doesn’t mean you can’t do both, Riley. But you see how it’s fun to pretend? You can make any story you want. Be anyone you want.”

I controlled the doll as she busied herself in the kitchen, telling Jessica, “OK! My name is Melissa, and this is my restaurant. All Melissa’s friends are coming to try her chocolate cake.” I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having, especially as Jessica began setting up the store front with tables and chairs. She carefully placed all of Melissa’s friends in the waiting chairs.

I practically jumped with excitement as the oven timer went off, which then prompted Melissa to carefully remove the delicious smelling cake from the oven. There was even a pretend knife and pretend slices of cake. All of the friends ate the cake and had big glasses of milk to wash it down with. Then we switched, and I became Theresa with her little baby girl. She even walked with the stroller!

Internally, I knew I was in danger of losing myself, but it didn’t matter. I still knew who I was, and I still had my memories, but the things Ryan did- well they were gross. Drinking made Ryan sick and sex. Yeah. I didn’t want to think about anything except for the baby in a mommy’s tummy and how cute it was when it came out. I knew how they were made, but just the thought of it was so…yucky.

Just as Theresa was about to take her baby for a long walk, Jessica yelped. My eyes grew as I watched a tiny bit of blood trickle from her finger. Jessica was going to need a band-aid. Maybe I could share one of my Frozen ones with her? As I looked down at the cut, I noticed what had caused it.

Jessica brought her finger to her mouth and gently sucked at the blood. “Ryan was definitely here. Really surprised that he would leave this here though. Hey, can I ask you something, Riley? What was he like? How did you treat you?”

Whatever force that had previously seized my mind, leaving me in a Barbie-induced nightmare fled the moment I saw my dad’s pin. It brought powerful memories of my life as Ryan Sullivan to the forefront of my mind. I remembered going moose hunting with my dad. It required trekking deep into the woods, waking up before dawn and lugging heavy gear. We never managed to kill a moose, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the bonding I did with my dad. I would watch him sip Jack, and we would talk about movies, sports and even dad’s work when he felt up to it. He would let me sip the Jack and laugh as I took a swig, my face contorting like I had swallowed turpentine.

I managed to free myself from the Barbie’s grip, quickly pushing away from the pile of plastic as if it were a pool of sulphuric acid. While the pin and the memory had saved me from a permanent role as Riley, I wanted to take the doll in my hand again, to feel the freedom, the simplicity of childhood, unattached to failures of Ryan- just a little girl with a whole world to discover.

Jessica asked, “What’s wrong, Riley? Don’t you want to keep playing?”

I shook my head fiercely, moving even further from the Barbies. Once I was halfway across the room, the pull, the temptation to play with them was lessened. Despite the return of my adult mind, I assumed a thoroughly childish position, tightly hugging my knees while I gently rocked back and forth. How close had I been to losing myself entirely?

Jessica frowned deeply, “Riley, what’s wrong, sweetie? You can tell me. Ryan didn’t hurt you did he?” Again, I shook my head.

There was something else though. It wasn’t only the fact that I had nearly lost myself. The memory of my dad, combined with the uneasy, sometimes uncontrollable emotions wrought upon my small frame made me realize something.

I really missed him, and I hated the fact that he was dead. It was like him dying fucked up my whole life. He was everything I wanted to be…and I really- well I loved him. We had never said anything like that to each other, but this body, with its cavalcade of emotions, allowed me to see that, and with that, again, came the waterworks. Years of pent up emotions burst to the surface, like some long dormant volcano, and Jessica was quick to respond. She held me in her arms, hugged me tightly, and whispered comfort into my ear.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Riley.”

She reminded me so much of Ashley when I first realized that this body wasn’t the result of some really bad weed or worse. She was strong but caring and undeniably feminine. I warbled, trying to say that I missed my dad, but it came out more as unintelligible staccato whines.

Eventually, through a combination of Jessica’s soothing voice and touch and just crying myself out, I stopped, the cries reduced to little sniffles of sadness. Jessica asked, “Do you want to tell me what was bothering you, Riley? It can sometimes help to tell someone else.”

Without thinking I replied with a sniffle, “I-I miss my dad.” I couldn’t believe it, but just saying the words was a huge relief. It was like someone had me in a chokehold, slowly strangling me, but with the words, I could breathe again.

Jessica said, “I’m so sorry, Riley. That must be really hard for you sweetie. I bet he was a lot of fun. You know as long as we remember the people that are gone, as long as we tell their stories, they’ll never be completely gone. It must have been so hard for you in the orphanage after he died. But you know there are people in your life now that love you. Greg and Eve, they want to be your parents. They love you. And I love spending time with you, and I’m sure Mrs. Feinstein will be happy to see you again.”

“T-There never was an orphanage. None of that is true.”

Jessica raised a brow, “What do you mean, Riley?”

I replied, “I’m not really Riley or Kaylee. I know it’s probably really hard to believe…you know considering the fact I was just crying my fucking eyes out before, but I’m Ryan.”

And just like that, another immense weight was lifted from my shoulders. I wasn’t sure if it was just the torrent of emotions or the fact that I had nearly succumbed to the serum, but the words came out far easier than I ever expected. OK, Jessica would probably look at me strangely the first time we’d have sex, but it wouldn’t matter. It was clear to me that it was better for Jessica to know both because of the help she could potentially offer (while also keeping Barbies and any other temptations away from me) and because I really liked her. I wanted to tell her the truth because I was sick of lying to her, and she deserved better.

She looked at me curiously. It wasn’t disbelief, but I could also see she didn’t put much credence in my words. Finally, she settled into confusion, “Is this part of a game you played with Ryan? I know Ryan lost his dad, but it doesn’t seem like it’s very fun, Riley. What’s this all about, sweetie? Did Ryan remind you of your dad? You worked with him on the Hermie show, right?”

I said firmly, “Call Eve or Greg. They’ll tell you.”

Jessica shook her head slowly and sighed. “OK, I’ll play along for now, ‘Ryan’, but I don’t really understand your game.”

“Hey. Yeah things here are OK. I’m just a bit worried about Riley though. She wants me to call her Ryan. Does she do the same thing with you?”

“Well she told me that there wasn’t an orphanage. But before she was really upset about her dad. Now that I think about it though, the news said that Kaylee never knew her parents. She was brought there as a baby. Is this a game you let her play?” Jessica put emphasis on her last words, adding a clearly judgmental tone.

“I don’t think it’s healthy, Eve. I’m guessing Ryan really made an impression on her, and she’s seeing him as some kind of father figure. Stop. Stop. Eve. What you’re saying isn’t possible.” I watched as Jessica slowly stood up. Her grip tightened around her cell phone.

She practically barked into the phone, “Eve! Eve! Enough. She’s a kid. Considering what she’s been through this is probably a normal reaction, but maybe you should. Just wait I’m going to go in the other room.”

She looked down at me with those same soft, sympathetic eyes. It was probably the same way she looked at an injured puppy. “Sorry, sweetie, I’ll be done in a minute, then we can play something else OK? You think about what you want Theresa to do next. Maybe she could push her baby on the swing?”

Jessica walked into the bedroom, where she continued her conversation by yelling a lot. Meanwhile, I was left in a room full of Barbie dolls. The allure was not unlike nights spent in clubs. It was like a girl on the dance floor with a perfectly round Brazilian ass peeking out under a dress a few inches too short, big ripe tits and a sweet and spicy perfume. Gyrations, jiggling and bass thumping in my chest, practically rattling my ribcage, it all drew me to her.

Now, I was looking at the Barbie dolls the same way. Not with lust of course, but with this powerful desire.

I wanted to make them walk, talk, push strollers.

I wanted to brush, bead and braid their hair, then I wanted my own hair to look like theirs.

I wanted to make them wear pretty dresses, but not only that, I wanted to have them put on a fashion show, trying each outfit until I found the perfect one. The one that looked the prettiest. Then I’d do the same thing with all the dresses that I knew were still in my Hello Kitty bag in the closet.

My right hand reached out, slithering through the accessories and playsets, seeking out Theresa and her baby. It would be so easy to lose myself- to just be Riley and become Eve and Greg’s daughter- to go to school and have friends, and be happy. The fight brought misery. My head started pounding as my fingers felt the touch of the molded plastic. As my hand closed on the doll, the pounding stopped.

Blood trickled from my left hand. I hadn’t realized it, but I had been firmly clenching my dad’s pin while my traitorous right hand searched out Theresa. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but all I knew was that the pin had saved me. The plastic doll, which moments ago had held the same allure before my change as a version of Jessica with Monique’s tits, was now nothing more than a toy. It wasn’t imagination, a world where Riley or Kaylee could exist without having to battle the serum on a daily basis. It was simply something that Ryan Sullivan didn’t want.
The doll flew across the room as I continued to stare at the pin.
“Holy shit. Is it… how is it even possible? I mean I know what Eve said, but are you- really Ryan?”

I hadn’t even heard Jessica re-enter the room, but it was obvious she had seen everything.

Ignoring the dull throb in my hand from the pin prick, I gathered my courage, again thinking of my dad and said, “Yes. It’s all true. Don’t you think it’s weird that a six year old doesn’t have any toys? Don’t you think Greg and Eve would have bought some for me? Fuck, Jessica, do I sound like any six year old girl you’ve ever known? I mean look at this.”

I woke Greg’s laptop from its sleep state and Googled an article on Kinesiology, which I proceeded to read aloud. It was full of scientific terminology, and I didn’t flub one word.

“But…why would you want to play with dolls? And you were having so much fun too.”

I shrugged, “Do I really have to answer that? Or can I just tell you the joke about the fucking fitness model and the contortionist. It’s the serum. It’s why I missed our date. The serum is trying to make me into this perfect little girl. Like dresses and pink and unicorn fairies. It also makes me want to play with toys and be around kids, especially girls. I don’t really understand how it happened. Something about the human genome. Eve’s got some researchers at the hospital studying some info I smuggled from the lab in the studio. They’re looking for a cure. All I know is that it gets worse when I start playing with toys or when I’m around kids.”

Jessica frowned, “I guess that bringing all these dolls over here didn’t help. And Brianna,” she put her hand over her mouth as her eyebrows shot to the shy, “Oh shit. Did her being here mess you up?”

I said firmly, practically scoffing at her question, “Brianna was harmless.”

Jessica smiled wryly, “Mm. Hmm. And the dolls? What about them? I hadn’t told Eve I was bringing them over, but when I said you were playing with dolls over the phone-“

I shook my head, “Look, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

Jessica smirked, “Same old Ryan. I still remember on our date when you jammed your fingers in the door of the restaurant trying to open it for me. I was like, OK- he’s going to cry or scream or something, and you just continued the date. Even when Eve said you should ice it or maybe go to the hospital, you just kept wincing in pain.” She laughed, “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that was? Who were you trying to impress exactly?”

I cleared my throat gently, “You. Like I said, I didn’t really know how to talk to you or act around you. Most of the girls I’d ‘dated’ before were just impressed that I could bang them against the wall.”

Jessica wrinkled her nose, “Lovely.” She then looked down at me. I felt like I was under a microscope, a blobby specimen wedged between two thin pieces of glass. Her eyes discovered me as she gently furrowed her brow, “Wait a minute. So when I was showing you those exercises and doing all that stretching, you were-“

I grinned, “Enjoying fucking the view.” Jessica didn’t need to know everything, especially not that I felt absolutely nothing for her body, and worse, I had images of myself all grown up looking just like her.

“Anyway, uh, I should have told you earlier. And you probably shouldn’t bring Brianna or those dolls here the next time.”

Jessica began stuffing the Barbie dolls back into their pink plastic case. She looked up at me with a smile, “Avengers again?”

I grinned, “Fuck yeah.”

***

“Wow, so you really told her? How did she take it?”

“She was cool about it. I’m just glad she’s not trying to do crafts or play Barbies with me anymore.”

Greg smirked, “I was really looking forward to the macaroni pictures you were going to make for me.”

A fist dug deep into the fleshiest part of Greg’s arm. “Okay, that actually hurt. Did you have to dig your knuckles in so much?”

“You’re lucky that I didn’t punch you in the mouth after talking shit like that.”

Greg nodded slowly, “Yeah. OK. So you still don’t have a sense of humour about what happened to you.”

I glared at him, “I’m in the body of a fucking six year old girl. I don’t see how there’s anything funny about it.”

Greg replied, “Haven’t you ever seen ‘It’s a Beautiful Life?’” I shook my head, and Greg continued, “It’s about a Jewish man and his son. They are sent to a concentration camp during the Second World War. Despite everything that’s happened to them, the horrors of the camp, the dad does everything he can to make his son not feel like he is in a concentration camp. It’s obviously not the same thing, but he was able to joke and clown his way through it to help maintain his son’s innocence. Do you think maybe you’d be happier if you tried to see some of the humour in this?”

I said, “No, I fucking don’t. I don’t think it’s funny at all feeling like I’m losing myself, piece by piece. I don’t think it’s funny that I’m getting these images of me all grown up in this body. Like it could actually be mine for longer than a few more months. I can’t believe I’m even telling you this.”

Greg said, “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help. Anyway, I’m glad that Jessica knows now. You wanna play Halo?”

Memories of the red streaks across my screen, a continuous cycle of death, failure and humiliation, flooded my mind. It was the dismantling of Killer_Six. I was waiting too long to answer Greg. Normally, I would have jumped at the opportunity to destroy Greg, but I just…I didn’t want to risk losing again, especially to him. If that happened, I might as well just delete my account.

“Come on, are you Ryan or Riley?”

“Little girl’s afraid to play cause she’ll get beat? If you don’t want to play Halo, I could go out and get you a brand new Barbie doll. You could brush her hair while I play.”

My bottom lip trembled, but I quickly turned my face away from Greg. It was normal for Greg to trash talk, but it never hurt this much before. His trash talk, even after my change, consisted of him saying he would beat me but he had never brought my forced gender into it. My anger had long since fled, replaced with a terrible sprawling humiliation, as if inside my head blackened tendrils toyed with my confidence and ego.

Why was he being so mean to me? I thought we were friends.

“Or are you Kaylee?

The tendrils were melted as red-hot angry lava spewed over them. I picked up the 360 controller and turned on the console, ready to deal constant pain to Greg.

Cold, calculated and precise. These were the only words to describe my absolute victory. I annihilated him with laser barrages, sniper shot and good old fashioned rocket fire. Then, I forced him to play me in Gears of War (even if he never played it), so I could chainsaw his face. It was unbelievably satisfying to see that I could still win but also that I could feel satisfaction from that win.

As I wreaked havoc on him in the final death match, I was surprised to see a tiny smile on his face. Apparently, he liked being blown to bits.

***

“Eve, your phone!”

“Eve, your fucking phone is ringing!”

Eve had been asleep for two hours, finishing her fourth day of split shifts. It was obvious what was happening. The same thing happened at the Palace when we wanted to get rid of someone: give them the shittiest hours and hope they eventually quit. Once again, my emotions surprised me. Before my change, I would have given absolutely no fucks about Eve’s predicament, and based on how I was feeling, I might have actually been a little happy. Not overjoyed, but at least pleased that the buzzing gnat in Greg’s ear, telling him that I was a massive asshole, was getting her comeuppance.

Like an aching hunger, it felt like bony fingers were squeezing my stomach, but no amount of pop tarts or leftover lasagna could sate me. The force gripping my innards and pricking at my mind was guilt and a deep sense of something…else. It wasn’t like guilt was a new emotion. I wasn’t a robot. But it wasn’t the same, not like when I would sleep with a girl and then not call her for a few days afterwards- or never. I figured we were just having fun, literally screwing around, but apparently targeting vulnerable girls meant increased baggage and awkward phone calls, text messages and sometimes angry knocking at my door. I felt bad for them, but the sense that I had hurt them deeply, used them to fill my own needs and then forgotten about them- it never remained beyond a few days, a week at most.

It was impossible to deny that I saw Eve differently now. I had told her things I never would have told anyone. Not even Hannah.

The call went to voicemail.

While I tried to concentrate on a game of Halo, the blue flashing light tempted me, like long silky legs in a pair of fuck me heels. Even when I turned back to the game, my confidence renewed after consecutively murdering Greg for the last four days, I could still see it out of the corner of my eye.

It could have been the hospital. Eve would be fucked if she missed a shift. It seemed impossible that they would call her back in after a twelve hour split shift where she had a two-hour break. Still, Eve would probably be pissed if I didn’t let her know, especially if it was the hospital. Obviously, it was somewhat important if the caller had left a message.

One missed call- Ms. McDavid.

My heart hung in my chest and the ache of guilt became a fierce grinding. The skeletal fingers prodding my stomach were now crushing it.

“It’s probably just a follow-up or whatever. The paperwork.”

I returned to my game, intent on ignoring the flashing blue light indicated an unheard message. A half hour later, with the blue light flashing in my eyeballs like some crazed laser pointer, my curiosity got the better of me.

“Ms. Mendes. This is Ms. Bronwyn McDavid calling. I know this is very difficult for you, especially because it’s clear to me how much you love Kaylee and want her to be part of your family. I’m here to offer any support I can. As Kaylee’s state social worker, I can walk you through the process. I know when we spoke a few days ago about the open adoption that you were understandably upset. I don’t take any of what you said to me personally, but you have to understand that based on Kaylee’s unique situation, it is best to let a judge determine who she should be placed with. I’m very sorry it has come to this, but the board agreed that a public adoption is best. Please call me back, Ms. Mendes.”

“End of message. Press 7 to save this message. Press 8 to delete or 9 to reply.”

“No command received.”

“Please enter a command.”

“No command received. Please try again. Goodbye.”

Chapter 23

“Ryan…unless it was the hospital, don’t worry about it.” Eve hugged her pillow. She slept in a pair of what should have been pajama shorts, but were more like pajama booty shorts. Her ass cheeks hung out of them, looking like heaps of crumpled caramel toffee. She reached for a non-existent blanket, the stifling midday heat removing any need for one.

I had shaken her for a solid thirty seconds before she had even budged. It was like trying to wake a hibernating bear, with some of the same sounds. That wasn’t exactly true, but I saw all of Eve’s faults when I was pissed with her, and considering how angry I was, I was practically looking at her with a magnifying glass.

“Are you sure it’s not, Kaylee, now? What the fuck is going on, Eve?!” I followed these words with a shrill scream that reeked of frustration, fear and bitter anger. I had again been kept out of the conversation. The grown-up conversation. The scream held no English words, a simple panicked uncontrolled utterance. I wanted to flail my limbs, throw my body in a way that matched how I felt- lost, betrayed. Oh, and I wanted to hit Eve’s phone with a hammer.

My anger dissipated slightly when my voice echoed in my mind. It was the kid at the Palace who threw a tantrum so bad, her parents didn’t even pay their bill. The dad actually came back the next day and apologized. He fucking paid too. Greg and I had a good laugh at it, but mostly me.

The scream woke Eve, but it did more than that. She shot up like she had been shocked with a defibrillator, her eyes wide and her face a mask of terror. She probably thought the apartment was on fire, but it was much, much worse. I threw her phone to her, although I had been attempting to throw it at her. It was obvious I would have to spend time actually practicing my throwing as Ashley had explained.

“You got a fucking message.”

She looked down at the phone, and then her eyes met mine. Her face, which had all the same markings of a slasher victim realizing their end is near, quickly went from terrified to saddened. “We were going to tell you. We were just trying to figure out how to do it.”

“This is a big fuck you to me, Eve. You say all this shit about trying to help me, making sure I’m still treated the same, but we know that’s a fucking lie. Paperwork? Fucking, paperwork?! So what does this mean, that some other fuckers can adopt me? Is that what the judge has to decide? Fuck, Eve, how could you do this to me? After everything I told you. I really thought things were going to be different between us, and you are still keeping fucking secrets from me!!!” My voice wavered and cracked, edging up into an impossibly high register as I lost more and more control over my emotions. I shook fiercely as my heart played the role of a prison escapee, seemingly attempting to tunnel its way out with a less than subtle jackhammer.

Eve looked at me calmly, but I could see the beginning of tears in her eyes. She rarely cried. Tears were in my eyes, and I didn’t even realize it. “R-Ryan, look we’re doing everything we can. Yes, that’s what it means, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t going to fight for you.”

I looked Eve straight in the eyes, relishing the tears dribbling down her cheeks. My anger and ultimate betrayal had broken her resolve. She was usually the statue and Greg was the fountain. “What the fuck happened, Eve? And no more lies.”

“When we were called into McDavid’s office a few days ago, well we found out they did an investigation. They matched you with Kaylee Smith. So we told her the truth. We said you came to us, told us about the studio and what they had done, that the police had arrested Tracy, who was the only one you trusted, so we hid you here until we could figure out what to do with you. So Ms. McDavid, she actually bought it and seemed understanding, even offering to help us adopt you. But then we got more news.

Because the original adoption was a sham you automatically returned to being a ward of the state. And unfortunately, that means that you can be adopted publicly through any agency. You have to believe me though, Ryan. We are doing everything we can to make sure you stay with us.”

Eve and I were mere inches apart, and while moments ago I had seen her as some sort of grotesque lying pig, the proximity no longer disgusted me. In fact, I longed to bury myself in her soft arms, feeling her warmth, hoping desperately it would remove the urges I had to throw a temper tantrum to rival any kid in a Wal-Mart not getting their way in the toy aisle.

Mostly, I just wanted her comfort. Eve and I gravitated toward each other, but something kept us apart. I could see that Eve desperately wanted to play mother bird. We were seconds from adopting a mother daughter role, or even simply child. I knew, however, grown men weren’t comforted in the arms of their buddy’s girlfriend, especially as tears tumbled down their face. Eve seemed to grasp this as well.

Eve took a deep breath, “Like I said, we just weren’t sure how to tell you. You have to admit that you’ve been kind of deli- you haven’t been yourself. We just thought it might push you further down that path. We’re going to include you in everything from now on though.” Eve felt she would reassure me with rapid nodding of her head.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes, “I’ve fucking heard that before.”

Eve frowned, “True. But you haven’t exactly been truthful with us.”

I narrowed my eyes, preparing my defense, while Eve continued. “Your episode with the game the other day when Jessica brought Brianna over. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

I sneered at Eve, “Because it was ridiculously fucking embarrassing? Because a girl I really want to fuck saw me cry like a pussy in front of her? I’m so sorry I didn’t share that with you. I’ll share it in a vlog with you and upload it to YouTube next time.

Eve smiled gently, mirth showing in her eyes causing the normally muddy browns to sparkle. “Make sure you upload it at the minimum 24 hours before it happens. OK. Fair enough, you didn’t want to tell me, but because I didn’t know, well we kind of assumed you were losing it, Ryan. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you what was going on.”

I nodded, “Is that why Greg was trying to get me playing Halo? To get my confidence back?”

Eve replied, “That was one reason. The other was to keep you from checking the news online or watching TV.”

I laughed, “Who the fuck watches TV anymore? I torrent everything or watch Netflix.”

Eve nodded, “We didn’t want you to see the news reports or anything, until we were sure you were ready. Until we knew you were OK. Long story short is basically with an open adoption and the sad story of the orphan used by evil TV execs, well there are apparently people lining up to adopt you. It’s why it’s gone to a judge. Some celebrities have even tweeted an interest.”

I grinned, “Fuck yeah. So some celebrity adopts me and I become an LA rich kid? Sweet deal. When does the judge make his decision? Can it be tomorrow? Maybe Megan Fox will adopt me, and we can have mother-daughter showers.”

Eve replied, “Ryan, it’s OK to be scared by this. I get that this is your go-to reaction. We can talk about this if you want.”

I sighed dramatically, “You just want to hear that I really, really want to stay with you guys. Is that it? Fuck sakes Eve, yeah I want to stay with you and your mostly clueless boyfriend. I’m-I mean you guys are my friends. Like real friends. Something I haven’t had in a really long time, maybe never.”

Eve smiled, “You’re making it really hard not to hug you right now.”

I squinted my eyes and stuck out my tongue, “You’re making it hard not to throw up in my mouth right now.”

Eve grinned, her eyes flashing maniacally, “We can have family game nights. Fun trips in the car to see grandma and grandpa. Greg told me that you love making macaroni pictures. You could do one of your new family. The coolest family in the world.”

I shook my head in mock fear, “Okay, seriously- I’m fucking tweeting Megan Fox to come save me.”

Eve put her hand on my shoulder, “Ryan, we’re going to do everything we can- and I mean everything we can to keep you. We aren’t going to let anyone else have you.”

I nodded, “I know, Eve.”

***

“Okay, we’ll put the bed over here. Greg, you put up the curtains. The toy box should go here.”

Greg said, “I’m all for adopting Ryan and everything but how did we lose our room exactly?”

Jessica gave Greg a look similar to one she gave me when she thought I was actually a little girl. She wasn’t falling into kid mode however. No, in this case, she was simply half mocking Greg. I loved it. “Well there’s going to be an inspection. Ms. McDavid is going to come and see the apartment and make sure it is ready for Ryan. It’s just temporary anyway. Didn’t Eve tell you about the townhouse?”

Eve said matter-of-factly, “I did. Whether he was listening or not is another story.”

Greg was quickly cowed. He slunk into the corner and began hanging the bright purple curtains. Kaylee’s room was coming together rapidly. Jessica was a taskmaster. It was likely the reason her YouTube show had become so popular. She put out daily videos, which meant that her subscribers always had something to watch, and ultimately, this led to a shit ton of money. Well compared to what I made at the Palace anyway.

Jessica was wholly driven, so she was the perfect person to push both Eve and Greg. Eve, even as focused and organized (read anal) as she was, still had her lazy days. She wasn’t ordering me around, so I didn’t really care. I wasn’t tall enough to hang curtains or strong enough to move the bed. The toys that had to be placed strategically around the room were still potentially too dangerous, even with the new focus trick I learned.

Eve frowned, “Greg, are you even lifting it? It’s really heavy on my end.”

Greg mumbled, “Yeah. It’s just- the sides, they’re cutting my hands.”

Normally, I would have been the one lifting the bed while Greg guided it awkwardly around the door frame. I wasn’t asked to do anything, but I jumped to reassemble the bed, using the ratchet set that Greg had never used. It still had a fucking red bow. While it was still hard to grip tools meant for adult hands, if I went slowly, I was usually successful. Of course, my success was dependant on my patience, but with Jessica there, I was able to focus. And OK, maybe I was showing off a little too. Or trying to. I certainly looked more like a man than Greg by the end of the day. I even put together my new bed.

By the end of the day, Kaylee’s room was finished. It wasn’t terrible by any means, certainly better than the room in the studio- the one with the talking record player, ballerina lamp and so much pink. There was so much, in fact, that l felt like sometimes I was in a nightmarish fever dream, trapped within a Hubba Bubba bubble, while the sides closed in, slowly suffocating me. Like seriously, why was Barbie’s car (a pretty sweet corvette), her camper, and her fucking house pink?

So, the room was decent, compared to what I had before. The furniture was sparse, and the room itself looked massive with the queen-sized bed replaced by a much smaller single. It wasn’t girly as fuck, but it didn’t exactly scream bachelor in his twenties either. There was a little dresser with a mirror and all the hair clips and elastics that Eve used to tie my hair on a daily basis. The little clothing that Kaylee owned, including the dresses brought from the studio were hung in the closet. Basically, it was functional- all things a six-year old girl would need.

We were sitting at the table, devouring a large pepperoni pizza. While I still liked most of the same food, I found myself eating it in smaller quantities. Anything with copious amounts of sugar tasted incredible, the flavours of something as mundane as a lifesaver or a stick of gum practically popping my taste buds. Unlike the others, however, I was eating cheese pizza, having picked off all the pepperoni. It was hard to describe it, but the meat just tasted bitter, and it even kind of burned my tongue.

Jessica asked, “So are you going to tell your parents about Ryan? You know everything?”

Eve replied, “We’ll probably have to. We need money for the adoption. I’m not looking forward to my mom coming over here and telling me what a terrible mom I am though. I love her, but she’s driving my sister crazy.”

Jessica nodded, “Well, you could tell her the whole truth. You know about Ryan’s unique condition and everything."

Eve shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean we haven’t really discussed it. Plus, Ryan doesn’t really want anyone else to know.” Eve and I shared a knowing look and then a quick smile.

I was surprised by my silence. Normally, I would have been boisterous, the loudest part of any conversation, but I was content to quietly eat my pizza. Maybe it was because everything that was being discussed was agreeable, but I couldn’t help feeling some anxiety over my change in behaviour.

Greg added, “I’ll tell mine, but it will follow the story in the news. We do really need the money.”

Jessica looked at me, “What about your mom, Ryan? Do you think you’ll tell her?”

I was caught off guard, forced to choke down the pizza in my mouth. It trudged down my throat like a soldier slogging through mud-filled trench. “I-I…no fucking way. It’s just- I wouldn’t even know what to say to her. We haven’t even talked for two years. And I doubt she would even believe it.”

Jessica forced the issue, much to my annoyance. “But she’s your mom. Don’t you think she deserves to know what happened to her son? And couldn’t she help with the money too?”

I spoke, spitting bits of cheese and pizza crust toward Jessica in the process, “She probably spends my dad’s money on bingo and lottery tickets.”

Jessica frowned, “Isn’t that your dad’s military pension? I’m pretty sure she has a right to that money as his-“

Eve interrupted, “Jess, you don’t want to go there. We’ll find a way to get the money together. I still don’t really understand why we have to pay for an adoption if Ryan is a ward of the state.”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, it is weird. I’ve been looking into it, and we are usually just supposed to pay a fee for fingerprinting and stuff. I think the difference is that because it is a high profile adoption, there are a lot more checks. Maybe something to do with Ryan’s condition.”

I glared at Greg as the tension in the room became palpable. The young man’s pale, pulpy face sagged, “Uh. Supposed condition. Ms. McDavid mentioned doctors being involved. Specialists. Probably expensive.”

I barked, “Fuck that. So they think I have some kind of disorder so they jack up the price. It’s bullshit.”

Eve said, “I know, Ryan. But I guess we don’t have much choice. I’m sure the doctors will find nothing wrong with you. It’d be weird if that serum, which was supposed to make you like this perfect child, health included, would give you some kind of anxiety disorder.”

Greg chewed the inside of his lip, glancing uneasily at Eve.

***

The next two weeks were a blur. It was like a drinking binge, nights of partying and sex but without any of the fun. First, it was the child psychologist, who asked me a million questions about the studio, my life in the orphanage. Then, there was the painstaking process of the application. Jessica and Mrs. Feinstein were chosen as the references, along with Vince from the Palace and Eve’s main supervisor at the hospital. All of them agreed. There was only the inspection/visit with Ms. McDavid remaining. I wasn’t allowed to be there, so Jessica took me shopping. Normally, I would have hated being dragged along on a shopping trip that didn’t involve video games or some type of electronics, but it was for the townhouse, so I was OK with it.

I was really excited about the townhouse, a place I would share with my friends and where I would get my own permanent room. Plus, it kind of felt grown up. It wasn’t a dingy apartment, with a scratched up table and peeling yellowed paint. Oh, and it would have central air. Glorious fucking central air. It also wouldn’t be the place where I had suffered the most humiliation in my life.

It was a fresh start.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

I nodded, “It’s my first day outside in what like two months? And I don’t even care that the sun is so fucking bright I think my eyeballs might pop.”

We were finished shopping, and Jessica had suggested we take a walk near a nearby dog park. She smiled, “Here. Take my sunglasses.” The young woman placed them on my nose, but they slowly slid down, until I looked like a diminutive librarian. Jessica laughed as her eyes softened. Fuck, she was looking at me the same way she had looked at the Yorkie that had been yipping at the Great Dane, actually causing it to turn tail and run. She needed to see Ryan in me, not Kaylee. I readjusted the glasses, deciding to simply hold them on my face to avoid the sun’s painful glare.

“Sorry, Ryan. I can’t help it sometimes. So how did it go with the doctor you saw?”

I shrugged, “It’s OK. And, it went fine. The guy was nice enough. He just asked me a bunch of questions. I mean I guess I got a little nervous when he started talking about the studio and the orphanage because I had to make a whole bunch of stuff up. I figure even if they think I have something- some disorder or whatever, Eve’s a nurse. She’s trained to deal with shit like that.”

Jessica nodded, “And with me living in the townhouse with you guys and doing my show, I doubt there’ll be problems with Ms. McDavid.”

I said, “I guess I’ll miss Mrs. Feinstein though. Even though she can be a bit of a hard ass.”

Jessica smiled, “I have to say I’m a bit surprised you could get along with someone like her.”

I replied, “She only sees me as Kaylee or Riley I guess, but it doesn’t matter. She treats me with respect. I mean if I swear in front of her she says she’ll wash my mouth out, but she doesn’t treat me like a kid.”

Jessica smirked, “Really? You actually sound a bit scared of her. She’s just an old retired teacher isn’t she?”

I watched a pair of golden retrievers chase after a lone tennis ball. It made me really miss Duke. The retrievers didn’t remind me of him though, no- it was the lazy as fuck bulldog who was basking in the sun, its tongue lolling from its mouth. Duke was definitely active as a puppy, but as he got older, he just mostly liked to lie around and go on the occasional walk. I swallowed hard, trying to control my swirling emotions.

“Yeah. Well you haven’t met her. She makes Greg and Eve jump too.”

Jessica laughed. “Greg I could see. Eve not so much.”

I grinned, “It’s true. She bitched Eve out like a little kid the first time she found out I was being left alone.”

Jessica asked, “How is it between you and Eve? You two didn’t exactly get along before.”

“It’s complicated.”

Jessica shook her head, “This isn’t a Facebook status, Ryan. I’m not trying to get the gossip from you or anything, but you do realize that Eve’s going to be your legal mom, right?”

I shrugged, finding my attention easily diverted by two dogs fighting over a shrivelled hot dog wiener. Jessica put a hand on my shoulder, “I’m really happy that you and Eve are getting along better. But don’t you think the adoption might change your relationship? Keep in mind, I think that adoption is the only option. It’s the best thing to do until some kind of cure can be found. But I see how Eve looks at you. Greg has noticed it too.”

Jessica reminded me of the two dogs battling over something that wouldn’t even classify as jerky. She just wouldn’t let things go. I wasn’t sure if I would have been able to stand it if we had dated for an extended period of time, unless she was an incredible fuck.

The hand on my shoulder didn’t bring warmth or closeness, instead, in conjunction with the words, uncertainty sprang into my mind. Jessica said softly, “I can talk to her about it if you want. I don’t think she realizes- and maybe you don’t either- that things have changed between you. That you are starting to act like-“

I wanted to run away. It is what I always did. Jessica continued to speak, but I didn’t hear anything. The barking dogs, the sweet incessant nattering of Jessica, her voice akin to taking a bite of candy and finding a railroad spike inside- all of it disappeared the instant I slipped out of Jessica’s grip and ran.

I ran as fast as I could, each section of chain link fence passing in a flash. Seconds later, I felt a firm hand dig into my shoulder, stopping my momentum dead.

Jessica said softly, “I don’t know if it’s the serum doing this to you, or if a part of you actually wants it, but if you don’t want me to say anything to Eve I won’t. You need to know though that there’s probably going to be a point of no return. And it’s going to be soon.”

***

I stared down at the plate of scrambled eggs. The light dusting of pepper tickled my nose. These were Eve’s special eggs, sprinkled with cinnamon and something else. Something that made them taste delicious, but also familiar, almost like a welcoming embrace. Today, however, I wanted nothing to do with them.

“Did the eggs go bad? Or are you nervous about later? I’m sure the judge will let you say something in support of you staying here.”

Was Jessica right? Would our defined roles, those we would be placed in legally, become more than simply words on a page? I had been thinking about it since she spoke the words, and since I had tried to run away. I couldn’t say fuck you to LA, not like I had to my mom and our shitty house.

There was no running. No disappearing act to find new friends, a new life. According to Jessica, there was only the inevitable. From the moment Eve saw me in this body, she treated me differently. It wasn’t simply her nursing training that caused her to treat me this way. And it wasn’t just my loneliness and fear that had me seeking her out, longing for her embrace and her soft words.

The sunscreen at the beach, and her application, there was something in her touch. It reminded me of the special power that parents have, especially moms, to soothe. There was love in her touch. It was undeniable. The adoption too. It was clear that she wanted me, and I couldn’t help but feel- wanted. It was a far cry from my mom, who was probably happy I was gone.

Even her eggs, just yellow mush to most, tasted like home. Despite all my mom’s faults, she was a decent cook, and the little things she did, like cut off the crusts of my sandwiches, or how she perfectly mixed the grape jelly and peanut butter, so the latter wouldn’t stick to the roof of my mouth. It was the little things, but it was those same little things that threatened my existence.

She had managed to pry open my mouth on so many occasions. It was something not even Hannah could do. My condition, my change, obviously played a role in it, but Eve had the power to make me spill my fucking guts.

“I don’t want your fucking eggs. They taste like shit.” I wanted to throw them on the floor, but I fought the impulse.

Eve’s lower lip quivered gently, but she otherwise managed to maintain her composure. “What’s this about, Ryan?”

“Why does it always have to be about something?”

Eve bit into her own eggs, “Because you’ve eaten the eggs fine before. I even heard you make cute little yum-yum sounds.”

“Fuck you, Eve.”

Eve smiled and shrugged her shoulders apologetically, “Sorry. Greg makes the same sounds. Or similar at least. Look, I get it, it’s a big day. Just treat it like an audition.”

“What the fuck is this, Eve? I’m starting to think Jessica is right about you- about us. Do you…-do you feel weird around me?”

Eve sighed gently, putting down her fork. Normally, she would have continued the conversation while periodically stuffing her face. “Yeah, Ryan. I don’t know if it’s the serum or something else, but I do. I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve wanted to be a mom since I was a little girl. I remember my sister and me playing dolls. Pushing them around in strollers, feeding and playing with them. It’s probably why I got into nursing.”

I shook my head, “Girls are so fucking lame.”

Eve smirked, “Maybe. But then I always thought the war games the boys played were stupid. But then if you talk to Jessica, she was such a tomboy. She always wanted to play with the boys. It’s just people are different. Anyway, like I was saying, I want to be a mom, but I don’t want to be yours, Ryan.”

She said softly, “It’s obviously something we’re going to have to watch out for. And I give you full permission to tell me to fuck off if I try to braid your hair or something.” This elicited a smirk from me.

Eve continued, “That’s not to say that during supervised visits with Ms. McDavid I won’t play your mom. Greg will have to do the same thing. But it’s not going to change things. I’m still hopeful there’s a cure for you, Ryan. The hospital research team is working on the Travers code data every day.”

I frowned, “What about school though? Ms. McDavid is probably going to force me to go. Even if I jab my dad’s pin in my hand multiple times a day, it’s still- well- fuck, I’d be in first grade, right? I’m not fucking going to school.”

Eve nodded, “Well it’s something I’ve been thinking about. What about if we asked Mrs. Feinstein to home school you? She already knows you are really smart. And maybe she would enjoy teaching again. You wouldn’t have to be around any kids, except her nieces now and then. I can talk to her about it if you want.”

I shrugged, unsure what homeschooling would mean exactly. I already had my high school, so I knew everything I would need to know. Plus, I knew how to fix cars and some basic carpentry. I had always followed my dad around the house whenever he fixed something, so I picked everything up by osmosis. Meanwhile, my mom just waited for my dad to get home so he could change a fucking light bulb.

Eve added, “I think it’s the best option we have right now.”

A great yet uneasy calm descended on me. I looked at Eve closely, trying to locate her flaws- both outward and inward. She chewed with her mouth open, sometimes spitting bits of food at me when she spoke. The clothes she wore often didn’t fit properly, with either her ass, plump upper arms or love handles showing, but I was beginning to see beyond that.

The woman didn’t have a halo around her or anything, but I realized that I trusted her. And no matter what we were or were to become, she was just trying to help me.

She asked, “So what made you want to speak to the judge?”

I replied, “Well I want more of a say in this. I feel like this whole thing is just- well it’s fucking reminding me of how people see me. Yeah, I was involved in the process, interviewed by Ms. McDavid after the home visit, and asked a million questions by doctors who keep trying to find something wrong with my head. Well I say fuck it. It’s my life, and I should have a say where I want to live. Plus, it’s like best interests of the child, right?”

Eve beamed, but it was in a way that made me think she was going to say, “Oh what a smart little girl!” Like I had just figured out how to tie my shoes or I had brought home a straight ‘A’ report card. This brought a grimace to my features and a hardening of my eyes.

The smile fell off of Eve’s face, “Sorry.”

And with that soft, calming voice- I believed her.

***

“Quit moving. It’s only for today, Ryan.”

“You keep pulling my fucking hair. And it hurts.”

Jessica sighed lightly, “That’s because you keep moving. You can’t show up in front of the judge looking like you just got out of bed.”

I seethed, “Can’t you just put it in a ponytail? It’s what I always do. And Eve said it was fine.”

Jessica replied, “Right. But I’ve actually been to court, and I didn’t show up in yoga pants with my hair in a messy bun. The judge is going to be taking in every little detail about you- not only what you say but how you look and present yourself. I saw it when I was on a jury. One of the witnesses showed up in this Harley Davidson t-shirt and pair of ratty jeans. He started lying, and the judge tore him apart. If you look nice, it’s also going to reflect well on Eve and Greg. It means they aren’t raising some wild, wolf child who won’t do as she’s told.”

I grumbled, but Jessica continued with her evil designs, twisting strands of hair for what felt like hours. I fidgeted in my seat, but Jessica’s firm hand always stopped my movement. As she worked, I could hear Greg and Eve arguing in their room. It made my heart drop, like a tiny stone tumbling down into the darkened unknown of a well.

Jessica said softly, “I think they’re having a bit of trouble getting dressed.”

I smirked, instantly feeling better, “Maybe. Greg came to work enough times with mismatched socks. Fucker’s colour blind I think.”

Finally, Jessica finished, but surprisingly, she didn’t hand me a mirror. I figured she would want me to see, but she quickly got myself, Greg and Eve out the door and into the car, ready to face the stop and go traffic that was Los Angeles at mid-morning. L.A was the type of city where even at 3 in the morning, there was traffic. It was a sprawling city with too many drivers and too little road space.

There was little talk in the car. My feet dangled over the edge of the back seat, clad in a pair of shiny black sandals. My dress, which Jessica insisted I wear, was annoyingly poofy, causing my seatbelt to dig into my waist uncomfortably. It had been difficult enough to even find the fucking buckle underneath the thing that was pooling around me like some sort of mini-wedding dress.

My bladder being far tinier than it had been, forced me to sprint toward the washroom once we arrived at the court house. Of course, it didn’t help that I had guzzled an orange juice before we left, making the whole trip rather dicey for me, especially as the belt squeezed my bladder. It was there that I finally saw what Jessica had done. My eyes widened as I viewed intermingling tresses. Jessica had taken four thick stands of hair and twisted them, aligning them neatly on either side of my hair. I could feel something bouncing back there as I darted toward the washroom, but as much as I spun around in the mirror, I just couldn’t see it.

“Cute. I guess it starts early. Here you go, sweetie.” Something bright and shiny entered my field of vision, and with its appearance, I could see that Jessica had placed my hair in a ponytail, but the twin tresses on each side stretched round my head, meeting in the middle made it far…prettier.

The word wouldn’t leave my head. The poofy dress made me want to spin, twirl- dance. All in the mirror. The young woman who had used her compact to see the back of my head was now busying herself in the mirror. She looked like she had money. A gold bracelet hung from her wrist, tiny silver charms dangled and bobbled as she carefully touched up her face. She was the classy professional type that could usually see through me even after they had a few drinks in them.

The familiar sound of metal on wood broke me from my reverie, and I quickly scampered out of the washroom. I burst out the door, wanting to be as far away from the woman’s bathroom as possible. However, in the process, I nearly ran into Mrs. Feinstein.

“Child, I’m happy to see you as well, but you can’t be charging out of doors like a lunatic. You’ll give someone a terrible fright.”

Had this been any other old lady, or any other person for that matter, I probably would have told them off, but Mrs. Feinstein had a special power over me. I mumbled, “Sorry, Mrs. Feinstein.”

The old woman, dressed in what I assumed was funeral wear, a black ankle-length skirt and blouse that actually covered most of her neck, smiled down at me. “It’s fine, child. Your manners have improved immeasurably since I met that shrill, foul-mouthed little girl what seems like ages ago. Tell me, have you been keeping up with your reading?”

I had lied to just about every person I knew at least once, and sometimes several times, but I couldn’t lie to Mrs. Feinstein. My eyes darted toward my shoes, peering down at my colourless toenails. They would probably look a lot prettier coloured, especially if I asked Jessica to do them, mirroring her pretty glittery purple polish. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to see Jessica as a sexual partner, and the more time I spent with her- the more I wanted to be like her.

The word ‘pretty’ continued to crawl through my brain, worming its way into my permanent vocabulary. Beautiful was also etching out a place within, replacing such terms and phrases like ‘hot’, ‘fucking hot’ and ‘I’d hit that’. Crude, but honestly, in locker rooms, this is how guys talked. Guys I knew at least. There were always those like Greg who were afraid to say their girlfriend was hot or describe anything about what they were doing sex wise but there were just as many who reveled in relaying their escapades.

I shrugged my shoulders, and this was all Mrs. Feinstein required. “Young lady, you’re as smart as a whip, and you may find things easy now, but this is why it is important to challenge yourself. This is why I really hope you’ll consider attending Prescott in the fall. Or at least another private school, where your gifts can be nurtured- and you can find,” a tiny grin appeared on her withered face, “a proper outlet for your talents. I expect you act out because you find everything too easy. So this fuels your mischief.”

I shook my head, “But you could teach me. I like learning with you. And you’re a really good teacher.” I spoke the absolute truth. Once my ‘homework’ was complete (the worksheets Eve had printed for me), Mrs. Feinstein expanded on the lessons, and as I was essentially a genius six-year old, she was able to delve far deeper into issues. She actually made learning about the government interesting, way more than a bunch of worksheets or some teacher droning on about the Electoral College. And she never, ever talked down to me- unless I deserved it.

Mrs. Feinstein brightened, her eyes shimmering behind her thick glasses. “My time has passed, child. There are wonderful teachers at Prescott. Many of whom I taught myself and have subsequently mentored. You remind me so much of myself. A little too smart for my own good, thinking I knew the way of the world before I was ten. A precocious little dickens. Also, don’t you want to be around children, make friends? You seemed to enjoy yourself with my granddaughters. Sophia’s been asking about you too. You don’t want to spend your days with a fusspot of an old woman.”

“Oh! Hi, Mrs. Feinstein, it’s good to see you. Kaylee, you shouldn’t have run off like that.”

I glared at Eve, whose thick legs were firmly encased in nylons. I thought they looked like sausage casings considering their shiny and shaven status. “I was in the bathroom. Did you really need to know that? Do you want to know the exact details of the shit I took too?”

Mrs. Feinstein furrowed her brow, but Eve was the first to speak, seemingly channeling the young woman. “Kaylee, you don’t speak like that. You’ve been warned about this enough times. Hand me your phone. You’ve lost your privilege for that today.”

I regarded Eve curiously, although with a measure of coiled rage. She was playing the dutiful mother, the one who disciplined her kid when she was out of line, but it still pissed me off. Mrs. Feinstein watched Eve- a silent but ever-present teacher. Despite my anger, I understood that Mrs. Feinstein was acting as a reference, a person who would speak to Eve and Greg’s parenting or lack thereof.

I rolled my eyes, “And where exactly would I keep a phone in this dress you made me wear?”

My eyes steered toward Mrs. Feinstein, expecting the woman’s gaze, with thick frames dangling precariously on the end of her nose, to be trained on me. Instead, however, she watched Eve with growing interest.

Eve responded calmly but firmly, “Enough, if I hear one more word from you, you’ll lose your Netflix privilege for tonight. Now, today is very important. You said you want to speak with the judge to prove how mature you are? Well she’s ready for you.”

Mrs. Feinstein’s lip curved into a knowing smile, but it fell from her face the moment she saw me peeking. A second later, Eve had firmly gripped my hand, pulling me away and toward the court room.

It would be packed. There would be media, a full public gallery, along with Eve, Greg and Jessica. They would provide moral support, but I knew that I wouldn’t need it. I would walk into the room and take it over, my story rending heart strings as easily as a machete through plump flesh. I would face questions, perhaps confrontation over the specifics and how I came to Eve and Greg’s door, but I would persevere until I had hacked my way clean through the bone.

Eve stopped in front of an unassuming wooden door. A placard to the left of the door frame said: Chambers- Virginia Boon.

Eve spoke in a hushed yet harsh whisper, “You want to tell me what the hell that little tantrum was? That didn’t look good in front of Mrs. Feinstein.”

I smirked, “You’ve been hanging around Greg too much. All I saw was a future mom giving shit to her kid for being a rude smart ass. Mrs. Feinstein looked- well she looked impressed.”

Eve’s face broke into a smile. It was so wide, I could see all of her back teeth. A few moments later, she took a deep breath and raised a hand to the wooden door. “Ready?”

I nodded, “Of course. Come on, you look more nervous than me. I’m going to make you guys sound like the least incompetent parents ever.”

Eve replied dryly but with a measure of amusement in her eyes, “What a vote of confidence.”

Eve knocked softly, barely rapping on the door with her knuckle. A chair rolled across an old hardwood floor causing it to creak gently. Footsteps approached and the door swung open, revealing a matronly woman in a black robe. The woman had a face like a kindly grandmother- wrinkled but not withered. On Mrs. Feinstein, the skin hung off of her, merely covering her skull so as to avoid terrifying school children. The judge, while somewhat overweight, wore it well, her double chin and round jowls giving her a pleasant face. Adding to this was the beaming smile she offered as her very presence acted as a welcome beacon.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Kaylee. Please come in. Ms. Mendes, could I speak with you for a moment?”

I was disappointed when my grand moment- my entrance- wasn’t into a packed court room, but a simple room. A room with wooden chairs, a large wooden desk, a computer with a blocky monitor like I had used in elementary school and a collection of diplomas and family pictures. Set on top of the desk was a pile of multi-coloured file folders. I settled into a wooden chair that Mrs. Feinstein may have sat on when she was Kaylee’s age, while the two adults spoke in hushed voices outside.

It was hard to be upset, considering Judge Boon didn’t know who I actually was, but the simple reminder of my standing set frightened butterflies loose in my stomach. Now, however, was not the time to have stage fright. I opened my hand to reveal my dad’s pin, just as the judge returned. “Sorry about that, Kaylee. Are you OK if I ask you some questions with just the two of us here?”

I was prepared for an entire court room, and while Judge Boon seemed very nice, I couldn’t hide the sudden anxiety that crept like shadows so deep they overcame their creators, extinguishing light, leaving nothing but an inky darkness and a terrifying uncertainty. What if I fucked up? I could end up adopted by some weirdos, boring fucking nerds, crazy helicopter parents who would hover over me while I went shit or just…someone other than Greg and Eve.

Judge Boon looked for an answer, but her face never wavered, wearing a careful, kindly smile, attempting to induce calm. I knew that I would have to perform, just as I had done with Tracy in my audition for the Hermie show. If I could pull this off, then it would be proof that I could control what was happening to me even during the most stressful moments.

It would show that I could still be Ryan, the silver-tongued salesman- the consummate actor.

“It’s OK to be nervous or scared, Kaylee. I’m quite impressed that you wanted to speak to me. You’re very mature for your age. Now, I am going to ask you a number of questions. Some of them will be about things that happened in the past. I want you to do your best to remember what happened. If you can’t remember, then just tell me. Don’t make anything up.”

I nodded dutifully, “Yes, I understand. I won’t lie.”

Judge Boon smiled, “Good, girl. I’m also going to ask you some questions about the people in your life.” The judge’s warm smile hardened, her softness replaced with a firmness that reminded me of Mrs. Feinstein.

“There aren’t any wrong answers. Only the truth, Kaylee.”

Her expression softened immediately, the hard lines of her face softening, giving it an almost grandmotherly glow. I could almost smell baking apple pies, cooling on the window sill. “No matter what my decision, I want you to know that I will keep your best interests in mind. Are you ready to begin?”

I steeled myself and nodded, preparing for the onslaught that would decide my fate.

Question after question came and I answered each one as if blocking a powerful body blow and replying with my own directly to the chin. Each response widened the smile on the judge’s face. I put on a masterful performance, spinning the sad story of the orphanage, the promise of parents and then absolute heartbreak when poor Kaylee was forced to shoot a television show fourteen hours a day and then left in a room with another little girl, only a small ragged doll to share between them and a decrepit, soiled bunk bed.

I wasn’t telling lies. No, I was following the story in the media, changing a few small details here and there but maintaining that Kaylee’s story was one of great misfortune- a poor little girl who simply wanted a mommy and daddy to love her.

Someone to want her.

It was common enough to feel for the character you portrayed as it was part of acting process, but the ache within my heart was real and impossible to ignore. We were taught never to allow a role to overcome us, to wash away our personalities, replacing them with wrought-iron baggage, chains that would drag us down until we were forever changed. The teacher was fucking dramatic about the whole thing, but he was right.

I had dreamed of Eve and the perfect life I would have as her baby girl, but it wasn’t the first time I had considered it. No, it happened the first or second night in the apartment. I was washing my hair, or at least trying to and mostly getting soap in my eyes. Eve helped wash out the soap and as she placed a towel around me, an incredible feeling rocketed from my toes to my brain, buzzing about and practically filling every pore, bone, muscle with incredible happiness.

Eve wanted me. She was fighting for me.

She wanted me for more than a quick fuck, a game of Halo, or anything really. So, it was easy to tell the judge how I felt about her. No lies were needed.

Judge Boon asked, “Kaylee, if Eve and Greg became your mommy and daddy, do you think you would be happy with them?”

My body felt strange, like molten lava was entering my chest as my anxiety picked up, but at the same time a wave of calm seemed to act as a soothing balm. I knew the answer to the question, even though I would never tell Eve and Greg, but again, I didn’t lie as I spoke.

I nodded, “Really happy.”

Eve and Greg could be embarrassing, what with Eve’s dorky, snorting laugh and Greg’s pathetic attempts at trash talking and the fact he couldn’t hold his liquor or carry anything over fifty pounds without complaining, but I hadn’t experienced such genuine feelings since my time with Hannah. They were the real fucking deal, and yes, they pissed me off by going behind my back on stuff, but they were my best chance at regaining my body and staying sane during the process.

And if- if I was trapped this way, they probably wouldn’t be bad parents. Although, if Eve called me baby girl in public, I would remove one of her limbs with a meat cleaver. Still, I actually loved Eve’s cooking, a mix of classic Mexican and sort of American home style. It was hard to beat her tortillas, which were made from scratch and better than any restaurant, even El Casa. She could be kind of a bitch sometimes, especially to Greg, but she was remarkably warm to someone who she had previously hated- or at least tolerated.

As for Greg, I would have my best friend as my legal dad. While he wasn’t much when compared to my real dad, at least I would always have someone to shoot the shit with, play video games and watch movies.

Most of all though, he would be there.

I swallowed hard, feeling the inklings of tears- a slight burning in my eyes and a pressure in my throat. It was what I did when I wanted to avoid crying in front of my dad.

“Kaylee? Are you OK?”

I nodded slowly, realizing that I must have looked seriously spaced out.

Judge Boon said, “I have to leave for a few moments. Are you going to be OK? Would you like to wait outside with Eve?”

I replied, “I’m OK.”

Judge Boon smiled, “Good, girl. I won’t be long.”

Of course, I wasn’t the type to sit quietly, nor was I going to ignore any potential advantages. I expected that the file folders on the judge’s desk were part of the hearing process. She had already met with Eve and Greg, so any concerns about their parenting skills would be clearly laid out. I could fill in any gaps when the judge returned while at the same time seeing whether Megan Fox had shown an interest in adopting poor Kaylee.

Apparently, no celebrities had made it to the final selection process, so the mother-daughter showers with Megan were out. I didn’t feel bad as I looked through the applications, poring over birthdays, social security numbers, credit scores and criminal record checks. It was nothing new. In fifth grade, I accidentally saw the answers to a geography test the teacher planned on giving the next day. I kept the information and the answers to myself- acing a test that required no studying. I didn’t look at it as cheating but more like taking advantage of opportunities. It was the same way with Tracy during my audition.

The applicants were as to be expected- married couples who felt terribly bad for Kaylee and wanted to give her a good home with loving parents. Some of them told a sob story about their lack of children, while others simply wanted to add a little girl to a loving family with multiple children. Eve and Greg’s application stood out the most. They were the youngest applicants, made the least amount of money, but they also stood out because Judge Boon had written:

“While young, both potential parents have a deep interest in Kaylee’s general wellbeing. Based on my conversation with Ms. McDavid, Kaylee’s social worker, the two have also formed a powerful bond with Kaylee. This can explain why they were hesitant to contact police when Kaylee arrived at their doorstep and in the months afterward. While this action cannot be condoned, it has seemingly established a lasting trust between the applicants and this particular ward of the state. I will confer again with Ms. McDavid, but I would place the two as front runners as Kaylee would not experience a potentially awkward adjustment period, and she would have two loving and dedicated parents. However, considering the age of the applicants, it is important to determine whether there are family support networks available.”

I reached the last file folder, hesitating for a moment to actually open it. Judge Boon would probably be back any second, but a deep curiosity burned within.

The label read: “Kathryn and Thomas Patterson”

I listened for the turn of the door handle, but hearing nothing, I dove into the file, rapidly scanning it. It read like the others, with the exception of Eve and Greg’s application. They were rich compared to Greg and Eve, and they lived in some town in Minnesota I had never heard of.

At this point, I was lazily reading the document, especially since the information was so similar, but my eyes zeroed in on the on the reference section like the page had a pair of DDs in a too-tight bikini top.

Feinstein. Mrs. Agatha Feinstein.

A mixture of pain, anger and sadness descended on my small form. I shook and the documents spilled to the floor, sliding underneath the judge’s massive wooden desk. My thoughts didn’t turn to the urgency of the task before me- removing the evidence that I had peeked in the files. No, instead I remained fixated on Mrs. Feinstein’s betrayal.

The door knob turned, and the wooden door creaked open. Footsteps creaked across the wooden floor followed by shuffling papers, but it acted as irrelevant background noise. A tantrum of epic proportions, one that would rival the combination of a toy aisle refusal, no dessert, no TV or videogames for myself in the past, threatened. I wanted to explode, cry until my eyes were dry, but I simply sat there shaking. My heart thundered as I buried my face in my hands. At the same time, I felt intense, burning rage. I wanted to break every single one of Mrs. Feinstein’s Royal Family tea cups and rip up the Hound of the Baskervilles- all right in front of her eyes.

A hand firmly squeezed my shoulder. “I forgot you could read as well as that, Kaylee. I’m sorry. You should know not to snoop though, young lady. I’m disappointed in you.”

But my heart never sank with the knowledge that I had been caught, no- it was too busy trying to burst from my chest. My breathing grew more and more rapid to the point where I began feeling light headed. I fell forward but was immediately caught, but even after that, my head continued to dip.

Grey specks danced before my eyes and then I saw nothing but a soothing, impenetrable darkness.

Chapter 24 Designer Children by OneShot20XX (oneshot20XX@gmail.com)

I stirred awake, prodded by the firm grip of a soft hand. At the command, the hand left, but it trailed off as if pulled by a string along my arm. A finger lingered on my elbow before all contact ceased.

“Kaylee, if you can hear me, I want you to take a short breath in and then a long breath out for five seconds. Keep your eyes closed and try and relax.”

I was groggy, but I understood the instructions. The memory of the betrayal still cut deeply, and the wound was corrupted, oozing blackened blood. Mrs. Feinstein, the only person who didn’t lie to me, go behind my back in this life, had acted as a reference for someone other than Greg and Eve.

Apparently, our friendship meant more to me than I initially believed because my heart ached, while my head buzzed with a million reasons for her disloyalty. Did she distrust Greg and Eve, question their parenting, have money at stake in it, simply hate me and want to hurt me? At least the whole thing with Sophia at the park was an accident caused by the overzealousness of a child, but here- there was no excusing her behaviour.

She had stuck a fucking dagger between my ribs. And it hurt more because I never expected it.

“Kaylee. In quick and then out slowly. Slowly. Yes, that’s it, good girl.”

I hadn’t realized it, but my breathing had quickened again. A soft hand lightly brushed against my elbow. Eventually, I managed to calm down. Coupled with my anger and deep sadness was humiliation. I had only gone unconscious because of a game of football and once after drinking some tequila Eve’s uncle sent. It was so fucking strong, Greg passed out from just a whiff. It was home brew shit that gave me psychedelic nightmares involving worms boring into my brain.

Now, I had passed out from hyperventilating after reading a piece of paper. I wasn’t exactly keeping score, but the serum had clearly won this day. However, the war remained.

“Good. Okay, breathing is normal. Vitals look good. Open your eyes and try to sit up, Kaylee.”

I did as I was told, finding it easy to assume the position. My heart rate and breathing quickened, however, as arms entangled my body, squeezing me tightly. Eve oozed anxiousness, near panic mode herself as she hugged me.

“Ms. Mendes, please. You need to control yourself. You are making her nervous.” There was a dismissiveness to the paramedic’s tone, who I now recognized as a fit African-American. The other, a young man with short spiky hair, simply gave me a reassuring smile.

Eve replied, “I’m just trying to calm her down. I know what I’m doing. I’m a nurse.”

The paramedic looked at Eve in near disbelief and then something flashed in her eyes. “I have children myself, Ms. Mendes, I know what it’s like. The best thing you can do is just let us do our job.”

Eve slowly relinquished the hug, and while I didn’t want my ribs and innards squeezed by her, a part of me wanted her to maintain the contact- at least in the form of a hand, a gentle touch to calm my nerves. Eventually the paramedics left, leaving Eve and I alone in Judge Boon’s chamber.

Eve asked, “Are you OK to walk?”

I replied, “Yeah, I don’t have a broken leg or anything. I got a bit excited and fainted, what’s the fucking deal?”

Eve nodded, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s nothing. Come on, let’s go home.”

As we exited the court house, Eve’s hand trailed next to her like some pathetic girl on her first date, hoping that the either clueless or uninterested boy would hold her hand.

I quickly realized, however, that my hand was miming Eve’s.

Seconds later, I reached out, and we walked hand in hand to the car.

***

“Ready? Come on, I’ve been dying to see this!”

Jessica placed a bowl of popcorn on the table and then sat down next to me with a smile, “It’s been out for a week!” She raised her eyebrows slightly as a wry grin formed, “Hold on, you were waiting for me, weren’t you? Aww. How romantic.”

I proceeded to launch a pillow at Jessica’s face, which she deftly avoided. Jessica laughed, “I think it’s cute that you wanted to wait for me. But you really didn’t.” The show in question ‘Stone’ was a Netflix original, a superhero drama with heavy detective elements. A new episode came out every week, but with our own drama at the court house, we hadn’t had a chance to watch it yet.

I replied, “Do you really think it’s romantic? Or are you just fucking with me?”

Jessica smirked. “Well it’s nice. It’s considerate. And it means you are thinking about me. So yeah, a girl likes to hear that, sure.”

I nodded, looking down at the remote with the bright red ‘Netflix’ button, but I hesitated. “If I had met you- you know before all this shit happened to me. I think things would have been different.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but I jumped in before, “It’s true. I don’t know- you just have this effect on me. You’d probably have been able to talk be out of the Hermie Show. Greg did a really shitty job as you can see.”

Jessica seemed genuinely taken by my words. She didn’t exactly swoon, but she fluttered her eyelashes in a way that should have driven me wild. Instead of lust, I simply felt happy with her reaction. A measure of concern entered Jessica’s face, “What’s this all about, Ryan? Are you OK?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I can’t fucking say something nice and that’s it? What do you want to hear? I like hanging out with you because we can just watch stuff. Don’t turn into Eve on me.”

Jessica replied, “Sorry. I’m not going to try and pry anything out of you. Let’s just watch the show, OK?” Once again, my finger hovered over the ‘Netflix’ button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it.

“I guess I’m just thinking about what could happen. You know if I get adopted by someone else. I know that Eve and Greg are probably going to be picked based on what I saw in Boon’s office, but what if that doesn’t happen? What the fuck is going to happen to me?”

Jessica said, “We’ll fight it. Get a lawyer. Anything we have to do to get you back. Ryan, there’s a reason why I waited at that restaurant for you- why I came back to the apartment when I thought you were in town. I saw something there. And this isn’t Eve thinking I’m going all stalker bitch or anything. And with how well we get along now, how easy it is- I know I was right.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “But look at me, how can we even have anything? What do you even see in me?”

Jessica nodded, “Your passion. The way you talk about your dad, movies and especially acting. You are following a dream, and you know- even if the Hermie Show didn’t turn out right, well at least you tried.”

I replied, “But I run away from everything. I wanted to quit acting. And I was never going to call you. Well initially at least. Not until I met Ashley.” I blinked, something suddenly dawning on me. “Wait, you didn’t like my body?”

Jessica said with a smirk, “OK, yeah- you were definitely an attractive man.” She quickly grew more serious, “I know you don’t look like that right now, but this time we’ve spent together has shown me that we can be really good friends too. All of that’s important to me in a relationship.”

I raised a brow, “I guess it makes sense. Once I stopped trying so hard to impress you and with the whole no sex thing, well it’s just been easier. There’s still something though, you know how you said I would have to make a choice soon, about Eve? I think you should talk to her. We’re getting too- comfortable.”

Jessica smiled knowingly, “So I’ve got permission to tell her to fuck off if she’s goes all mommy-mode?” I loved the way Jessica said ‘fuck’. There was a measure of hesitation, an instant where her lips shut and then she blurted it out like an unruly child experimenting with the word.

I grinned, “Yeah. Definitely.”

Jessica said, “OK, enough talk. Let’s watch this thing.”

I nodded and finally pressed the ‘Netflix’ button. The intro played, an ominous light bathed the street and from it sprouted living shadows. Music- a sharp collection of horns and angry percussive beats, sounding like metal on hollow bones filled my ears, and I smiled.

This was going to be fucking sick.

***

I woke to the sound of yelling. Jessica and I had settled into watch another movie after Stone, but I could barely stay awake. My eyes began drooping after fifteen minutes, and by this point, I was used to being the person who fell asleep during movies. This was simply part of being in the body of a child. Not that I was going to bed at 7:30 or 8 PM, but I was fighting to stay awake once the clock hit 9:30 and pretty much done by 10.

I left my bed and sprinted toward the door. The hand that turned the knob shook gently. I left it only slightly ajar, allowing me to hear everything as it unfolded.

Greg said, “Keep it down, Eve! Ryan could hear you. We need to figure out how to tell him.”

Eve yelled, “What’s the point? It’s all my fault anyway! I should have listened to you Greg!”

Eve admitting she was wrong was a very rare occurrence, and this fact caused my heart to jump. My pulse thrummed as I began breathing in and out rapidly.

Jessica said, “Guys! Guys! Calm down. I’m pretty sure I saw his door open a bit. He’s up. We need to do like we promised and just tell him. He’s not a kid.”

My cover blown, I exited my bedroom and moved to stand next to Jessica. I had actually gained control of my breathing after following the instructions given by the paramedic. As I listened in my room, I breathed in short and out long. It also helped that even with what seemed like terrible news, my friends weren’t going to hide it from me, fearful that I would fall apart, breathing myself into unconsciousness.

Eve said, “I’m sorry, Ryan. We weren’t chosen.” Her eyes glistened as a single tear dribbled down her cheek. Greg moved beside her and hugged her tightly. Once she entered his arms, she broke down completely, crumpling into his embrace.

I shook my head repeatedly, “Are you fucking kidding me? So I have to sit in the fucking DMV for like two days to get a goddamn licence renewed and that fucking judge makes her decision in less time? Government is all fucking bullshit. I’m not going. I’m not fucking going anywhere. I don’t care if one of those asshole families won Kaylee. They aren’t getting her.”

My emotions were completely different from Eve. Jessica looked on sadly, but she maintained her calm. I was taken with rage, a blind seething anger that caused my little body to shake. “You know whose fault this is, right? It’s that fucking bitch Feinstein. She probably gave you guys a bad reference because she wanted those Patterson fuckers. ”

Jessica said, “Ryan, please calm down. It’s not going to help things, and you’re probably going to start to feel faint again. Just breathe in and out.”

I was so fucking pissed off that I could barely see. My brain stewed while my eyeballs practically cooked in their sockets. I saw flashes of black and red, as my imagination, fuelled by my love of horror movies, woke, creating an infinite amount of painful ends for the doddering, cripple upstairs.

I would never do it, but I remembered after 9/11 thinking something similar about those who attacked the people in those towers. They weren’t the scenes of vicious cruelty my imagination enacted on Mrs. Feinstein, but they were as violent as an eleven year old could muster. All I could think of for days was how I wanted to hurt the people who did that, and now, all I wanted to do was hurt Mrs. Feinstein. Everything else, even Eve’s breakdown was ignored as I flew toward the door.

Jessica reached out to grab me, but I sidestepped her. She yelled, “Ryan, this isn’t going to help things! Feinstein didn’t do anything!”

I heard the words, but I chose to ignore them because they were lies. In my mind, Mrs. Feinstein was the cause of everything, my lone target for all that had happened. If I could have found a way to blame her for the studio, I probably would have, but I was too busy throwing open the apartment door and running out into the hall.

I was barefoot, still wearing my pajamas, which consisted of a pair of white shorts and a t-shirt. My fingers jabbed into the elevator down button the same way my mind envisioned stabbing Mrs. Feinstein with the same knife she used to cut up the disgusting toasted tomato sandwiches she made me eat.

As I jabbed my finger into the button over and over, I felt a sudden jerking motion. Jessica looked down at me with both soft, sad eyes yet a firm disappointed frown. She took my wrist, not my hand, wrenching me away from the elevator. It was the same way parents at the Palace sometimes dealt with out of control children. “This isn’t going to help anything, Ryan. I’m trying to tell you that Mrs. Feinstein had nothing to do with this. We know that she acted as a reference for Eve and Greg and this other couple. Nothing in the judge’s decision said anything about Mrs. Feinstein or neighbours. Or anything like that. It has everything to do with these attacks you are having.”

I shook my head, all the while still trying to pull away from Jessica, “No. I don’t believe it. She must have said something. She thinks Eve and Greg are awful parents. The bitch has said it to me so many times. She doesn’t agree with a lot of it.”

Jessica nodded, “Well, can you blame her? Would you leave a six year old at home alone? Would you do everything in your power not to socialize your child? And if you knew something was wrong with them would you just ignore it and hope it got better?”

I sneered at Jessica, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jessica said, “You have pretty severe panic attacks, Ryan. It’s probably a result of what happened to you at the studio. The main thing is that Eve refused to get you tested- to go to a doctor for a diagnosis. She’s a nurse. The judge thought that because Eve refused to do that- well she might put you in danger.”

I stopped trying to pull away from Jessica as the fight drained from my body. “No. Eve said it was nothing. She’s trained. It doesn’t make sense. Ashley got her allergy fixed.”

Jessica sighed and released her grip, sliding her hand down and holding mine tight. “Only you know what happened in the studio, Ryan. I don’t want to bring back painful memories or anything. Maybe it’s the serum that is doing this. We just don’t know right now.”

I replied, “So it’s all Eve’s fault then?” My black and white target had shifted to my would-be mother.

Jessica shook her head, “It’s not unheard of. My parents were the same way with my brother. They refused to believe that he could have autism, so they fought against the system that kept saying he did. A system that wanted to help him, get him tested and diagnosed so he could be properly supported. My mom especially refused to believe it. So my brother had a horrible time in his first few years of school. Parents sometimes don’t want to admit that there could be something wrong. They blame themselves. Eve did the same thing. And now she blames herself.”

She kneeled down, meeting me at eye level. I sniffed sadly, feeling the weight of the world on my tiny shoulders. Jessica said, “Don’t you remember what I told you yesterday? We’re going to fight this. First thing we are going to do is find a lawyer to look over Judge Boon’s decision. Hopefully we can buy some time that way. That should give us time to move into the townhouse. And when Ms. McDavid sees how well you are doing there, I’m sure she’ll tell the judge.”

We were supposed to move into the house by the end of the summer. We had already started storing the newly bought furniture in a locker in preparation for the move.

I asked, “What about that other stuff you were talking about?”

Jessica nodded, “Well Ms. McDavid and Judge Boon are going to want to see that you are properly socialized. So, we’ll have to figure that one out. I guess I could bring Brianna over. She’s pretty harmless, right? With your pin trick, do you think you could be around kids your age? Like if I brought you to a park or something? Could you force yourself to play, act like Kaylee without any repercussions?”

I replied, “Yeah, Brianna is no trouble. I don’t know about a park. I haven’t had a chance to test it out with anything except for Barbie dolls.”

Jessica said, “Well considering what the doll did to you before you figured it out- I’d say it is a huge improvement. Anyway, I don’t want you to think of this as the end. It’s just the beginning, Ryan. We’re going to fight for you. And while we do, a bunch of brilliant people will look for a cure to the serum.”

***

Jessica kept her promise, spending the rest of the day speaking to lawyers about Judge Boon’s decision. By 6 PM, we had a lawyer working on the case. We (and by ‘we’ I mean Eve, Greg and Jessica paid the retainer. They had enough to pay the lawyer to review the case and to provide advice on whether it had a chance of succeeding at court. For once, I was kept in the loop entirely. With that knowledge, I didn’t feel as anxious about the whole thing, which enabled me to stave off any other attacks.

Two days later, while the lawyer worked on the case, we celebrated Greg and Eve’s anniversary.

A can of pop, two wine glasses and a tall boy beer clinked together. I guzzled my cola and then tore into a slice of pizza.

Jessica said, “You may look alike, but you definitely don’t eat like Brianna. She takes these little bird bites of everything.” I grinned and washed the mouthful down with more cola.

Despite the judge’s decision hanging over our heads, the mood was happy. I looked at Greg and Eve with a smirk, “So, I think you guys have me to thank for getting you together.”

Eve quirked a brow but looked at me with amusement, “Oh really?”

I nodded, “Greg here practically needed written instructions on how to make contact with a girl. He would probably still be sitting in the corner of that bar with this fucking ‘duh-duh’ what do I do look on his face if I hadn’t introduced you two.”

Eve cleared her throat, “If I remember things right, you hit on me, and I turned you down, then you moved onto my friends. We actually almost left the bar.”

I shook my head, “One of your friends liked me. The tall one with the big ass.”

Eve ignored me and said, “But I noticed Greg looking at me from his table with this big dopey grin. I thought he was cute. I didn’t even realize he was with you, Ryan.”

It wasn’t exactly how I remembered it- a clear case of selective memory. Eve continued, “Then you went over to Greg and brought him over.”

Jessica asked, “How did you even manage to get Greg to come to the club? He doesn’t seem the type.”

I nodded, “I said I could get him laid.”

Eve asked, “Greg, what did he say to you when he went over?”

Greg looked down and then up, repeating the gesture a few times, “Well he said that he had warmed up a couple of easy girls for me.”

Jessica looked at me and slowly shook her head, “You know this story doesn’t do great things for your reputation.”

I retorted, “This isn’t really how I remember it.”

Eve said with a small smile, “Well I can tell you that the night didn’t end with you going home with my friends. So if that’s how you remember it, you are clearly more delusional than I thought.”

Greg said, “Well to be fair, Ryan looked so bad, when I actually managed to open my mouth, I probably looked like the best guy in the world.”

I pointed enthusiastically at Eve, “See? See? Because I was a colossal asshole, you two are together. So you do have me to thank.”

Greg reached over and took Eve’s hand, a look of amusement on his face, “I think he’s actually right.”

Eve looked thoughtful, and after a moment of hesitation, she nodded slowly, a big smile creeping onto her face, “OK. OK. Yeah, maybe it’s true.”

I grinned and then looked over to Jessica, “So, how come you didn’t come out with Eve?”

Jessica nodded, “Well I don’t really remember when it was exactly, but I was probably studying. I didn’t go out too much. I hit the gym a lot to get ready for my channel, started looking into editing and video stuff.”

I sighed lightly, realizing that things might have been different if Jessica had come out. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so desperate when the Hermie role came along.

Jessica looked down at me thoughtfully, “What the matter, Ryan? Not thinking about what could have been again, are you?” I nodded my head slowly, feeling my mouth droop.

Jessica grinned, “I know exactly what would have happened. You wouldn’t have gone home with three girls instead of two.”

Laughter erupted at the table, and despite it being aimed squarely at me, I joined in, while falling deeper, and deeper for Jessica.

***

“Dad, I know it’s a lot of money. But she’s a really special little girl. No, there’s nothing wrong with me or Greg. Well we haven’t been tested yet. Why the hell would we be tested for that at twenty four? Yeah. Yeah. I know. Look, I’m sure you’ll be convinced that this is the best thing for us and her when you meet her. Soon. Yeah. OK. Dad. Bye. Love you too.”

Eve sunk onto the couch and sighed heavily, “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get any money from my parents. My mom thinks the whole adoption thing is weird. She’s very old fashioned that way. She doesn’t even agree with my sister working. Did you have any luck with yours, Greg?”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, but they’ve never had a lot of money. I’m just worried we are going to run out of money before the whole thing is over. The lawyer said that a trial could cost about ten to twenty thousand dollars. My parents said they can give maybe 3 of that. Maybe. They’ve been following the whole thing on the news, so they are definitely on our side. It’s just- it’s not going to be enough.”

Jessica, who was sitting at the kitchen table with me, entered the conversation, “I can give you guys about five thousand. It’s what I’ve made on YouTube so far. And I’ll be doing a charity thing on my channel for the next two weeks trying to raise money for it.”

Greg, who acted as more of the realistic in the group, added, “The way the lawyer explained it, we will appeal the judge’s decision in front of a new judge. But we will have to hire an expert. And the references will likely be called to speak to our ability as parents. But even if we are successful, the family chosen by Judge Boon could appeal at the federal court, and that is where it gets really expensive. The lawyer said we would need at least a fifteen thousand dollar retainer alone for federal court.”

I snapped at Greg, “Okay, so fucking suggest something instead of shitting all over this. How can we raise the money?”

Greg frowned and nodded, “It’s what I was getting to. We’ve exhausted all the other financial options, so I think the only choice we might have is to- well it’s up to Ryan, but I think he should call his mom and ask her for the money. According to the lawyer, she’s gotta be sitting on a lucrative death benefit with not much in the way of expenses.”

“That is not fucking happening, man. No fucking way am I getting her involved. And plus, like I said, she probably spent it on bingo and lottery tickets.”

Jessica asked, “Wasn’t your dad pretty high there? I have a hard time believing she would spend all the money on that.”

I shook my head, “I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that I used my part of the settlement to get started in LA. My mom gets a certain amount every month, but she probably spends it. We were usually broke even when my dad was alive, so I can’t see her getting enough to help us out any.”

Eve turned toward me, “But it’s still possible. She might have something to contribute. It’s worth a shot, Ryan. I mean, maybe you wouldn’t even have to meet her. Just send her an e-mail, telling her you are in trouble and maybe she could wire you some money.”

I shook my head, “No. I’m not fucking doing that. I don’t want to owe her anything. That’ll be an excuse to get into my life. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Jessica said calmly, “I think you should consider it. Not because I think she should be in your life or anything- it’s just that what if Greg is right and we end up needing more money? And Eve’s idea is a good one about the e-mail. It can’t hurt anything.”

Jessica added, “There’s another thing we could try before this though. During school, I was working with these kids, mostly at-risk teenagers, trying to show them how exercise can help with their moods. Well the group I was working with had a lawyer working there preparing the kids for probation hearings, and I think she was working for free. I can’t remember what it’s called, but they apparently sometimes work for free if it’s for a really good cause.”

Eve nodded, “Yes. Yes! We could do a social media blitz like we did before, and I’m sure we could get someone.”

I grinned and leapt toward Jessica, throwing my arms around her. “Don’t ever let me complain about you being too smart again.” Jessica returned the hug with a smile. When I released the hug and turned back to Eve and Greg, the former looked like she had eaten something that didn’t agree with her, and that something was working its way back up into her throat and mouth.

***

“Ryan, hey- Ryan, wake up. I need to talk to you, man.”

“Uh—Um what do you want, Greg?”

Greg said, “We have a problem. I just finished having a conversation with Eve about Jessica. Eve doesn’t want her moving into the townhouse. But there’s something else too. And I’m wondering if you’ve seen it. I mean I thought I saw it before and Jessica could see it but-“

I groaned and rolled over, “Fuck, man, why didn’t you just write it out? Verbal diarrhea, coming out of your mouth. What did you notice?”

Greg sighed, “You know, I’m just trying to help. You don’t need to be such a dick about things.” Greg raised his voice slightly as he spoke, an authoritarian tinge rarely heard.

I cleared my throat, “Uh. Sorry. I know. So what’s the problem?”

Greg said, “How would you describe your relationship with Jessica?”

I shrugged, pushing my hair from my eyes, “Good. We get along really well. I mean I’m not sure what it is. We’re just really good friends I think.”

Greg stuttered, “I-I’m not sure Jessica sees it that way. S-She’s acting a lot more like Eve now, especially since you’ve started hanging out more together. Well how Eve acts when you don’t want her to act. Like-“

I shook my head, “You are saying Jessica is trying to be my mom. Seriously? And that’s why Eve doesn’t want Jessica in the townhouse? OK, so they are fighting- two girls mind you- one who is your girlfriend are fighting over who gets to be my mom.” I laughed, but the childlike timbre sounded more amused than obnoxious (as I’d intended).

I added, “How come you haven’t started calling me princess and patting my head while you smoke a pipe?”

Greg frowned, his sallow face looking more tired than usual- almost haggard. “This is serious, Ryan. Not only can we not afford the townhouse if Jessica isn’t living there, we’d have to put you in state-run childcare. As for why I’m not affected, well I don’t know. I mean I feel these surges sometimes, like especially when you piss me off, but it doesn’t seem as potent as what is affecting Eve and Jessica.”

I said, “Jessica has my back. She said that she is going to tell Eve if she starts acting all maternal. And I give you permission to tell both of them to cut any bullshit if it starts. But I can trust Jessica. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Greg said, “OK. So you are fine, but I’m stuck with a pissed off girlfriend who may or may not want my best friend as her daughter.”

I smirked, “Take her mind off of it. Go back in there and fuck her brains out, then maybe she’ll forget.”

Greg sighed, “I’m not good at that. It always seems like begging.”

I looked at Greg, the pathetic man-creature, who relied on puppy dog eyes to initiate sex and simply shook my head, “Just go in, throw an arm around her and seem really supportive, you know? This whole thing with Jessica is bothering her. And then when she starts to relax, start moving around on her body- her tits and ass. Oh and don’t do that thing where you kiss her neck. She doesn’t like the slobber, and you gave her a hickey before a twelve hour shift. Hopefully she’ll start giving it back once you warm her up.”

Greg raised a brow, “Well I’m already supportive. And does that actually work? Wait she told you that?”

I grinned, “I have overhead, many, many things in this apartment. And yeah, it works sometimes.” Well technically, it didn’t work with Hannah. Ever. But lonely, baggage-laden college girls- yes.

Greg nodded, “OK, and what about the problem with Jessica and Eve?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Tracy is probably the only person who can answer that, and she’s likely going to prison for at least ten years. For now, I’ll talk to Eve about Jessica.”

I said, “And one more thing, if Eve really isn’t in the mood. Just go into the bathroom, man. OK?”

Greg nodded, surprise raising his brows slightly, “Yeah. I- will.”

***

“Did you always suck so much at this, man? Because I swear you used to better. Like a lot better.”

Greg replied, “Some of us have to work. I can’t exactly stay home and practice all day. I’d say that gives you a slight advantage.”

I shook my head, watching as Greg’s avatar was flung into a nearby wall- the result of a concussion grenade. “This isn’t even fun. Let’s do a team death match before I fucking fall asleep.”

Greg shrugged his shoulders, “You’ll just get all the kills. How am I supposed to get better if I don’t play people higher ranked than me?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was interrupted by the door buzzer, which prompted me to pull my stool from the closet. On the other side of the door stood a smiling Ms. McDavid clipboard in hand. I looked to Greg frantically, my breathing racing to catch the rapid beating of my heart.

“What the fuck is she doing here? I thought you guys had a lawyer working on this?”

Greg replied, “I-I don’t know. The lawyer we talked to initially said we had 30 days to appeal the decision. Maybe she is here for a surprise home visit to see how you are doing? I’ll talk to her.” Greg walked toward the door unsteadily. He had been completely unprepared for Ms. McDavid’s visit, and it showed. This was likely going to be a disaster.

“Oh. Uh. Hi, Ms. McDavid. Are you here for another visit?”

Ms. McDavid shook her head, “No, actually I’m just here to speak to Kaylee.”

Greg pointed toward my bedroom, formerly the master bedroom, “Oh. OK. I don’t have a problem with that. If you want to be alone, you can just use her room. It’s across from the kitchen.”

The woman shook her head and lightly tapped her pen on the clipboard. “Actually, I’ll be taking Kaylee. I’ll bring her back shortly, but I need to speak to her outside of her regular environment.”

Greg and I exchanged confused glances, and then Greg, who had apparently found where his balls were hiding, said, “Kaylee, I want you to go with Ms. McDavid. You be nice to her and do what she asks.” He had again put an authoritarian tone to his words, and while they didn’t have the same power as Mrs. Feinstein’s cane, I still moved quicker than normal to the door.

With no resistance, Ms. McDavid reached out and took my hand, leading me down to the elevator. While I had a million questions to ask, I played Kaylee, diminutive, demure and anxious six year old. Kaylee wasn’t precocious and straying from the norm could likely lead to difficult questions from Ms. McDavid.

We walked quietly together to a nearby park where Ms. McDavid finally released my hand. The unbearable heat wave had stopped a week ago. I loved the sun, but when grey skies met my eyes, I was relieved, as I expected most Californians were, especially those dealing with wildfires.

Ms. McDavid sat cross legged at a picnic table, and I joined her. It was mid-morning, and while the park wasn’t full, there were plenty of people enjoying the reprieve from the extreme heat. People walked dogs, a couple rollerbladed together, and a group of children, likely from a nearby summer camp enjoyed the play structure, swing set and sandbox.

“You can play there after we talk if you want, Ryan.”

I hadn’t even realized it, but I had been staring at children with their bright green t-shirts. Their laughter stirred the child within, and my brain- it suddenly stopped functioning. I turned to face Ms. McDavid, feeling my jaw tumble downward.

I stared at the woman in disbelief, unable to close my mouth, to speak, to even move. Only my eyes seemed to budge, blinking in rapid nervous succession.

Ms. McDavid smiled, “It’s OK, sweetie. I know it’s surprising, and I hadn’t really wanted to get involved at all, but your friends forced our hand. It’s time for you to disappear.”

A scene from the original Godfather played in my mind. Sonny driving along the Long Island Causeway pays his toll at the booth, an innocuous place, travelled by thousands per day, and is assassinated, shot with enough bullets to keep even a death-dodging action hero down. The park, like the toll booth, was filled with individuals who could be working with McDavid. My imagination took flight, placing federal agents behind trees, a black van awaiting my capture to take me to my new home.

I managed to squawk out, “W-Why…are you with Daniels and Travers? Why won’t you just fucking leave us alone?”

The smile left Ms. McDavid’s face, replaced with an expressionless calm. “All you need to know, sweetie, is that soon, you’ll be like those children over there. Not a care in the world except avoiding boredom and bedtime. I don’t know how you managed to stave off the effects of the serum this long, but it’s over. In two days, your new parents will come and take you away to a new life. One that will erase Ryan Sullivan.”

I shook my head, “I don’t understand, you’re a social worker. Why are you doing this? Don’t you know what they did to me?”

The smile returned to Ms. McDavid’s face, “Yes. Of course. And on second thought, I don’t really have any concerns, considering you are six, and no one would believe you anyway. Plus, I really want to see the look on your face. I worked primarily with Dr. Travers and Dr. Tracy Pike on the Human Genome Project and helped create the serum now coursing through your veins. The government is cutting ties with the whole project, and you are last test subject still with their memories. We had wanted to only go through official channels- the investigation and the subsequent adoption, but it’s getting very- untidy now.”

The young woman tapped her pen on her clipboard with a smile, “But we’ll get it all fixed up. Won’t we? I’m sure you’ll come along like a good girl when the time is right.”

It seemed impossible that someone as young as Ms. McDavid could be a doctor and even more implausible that she could work on something that could alter the entire human race, but I was more concerned with her plan, but mostly, Kaylee’s new parents.

“Why the fuck do you think I would ever even consider going along with this? You said official channels, right? Well we still have time for the appeal application. We’ll stall this as long as we have to. We’re going public with the whole thing too, and that will probably get even more lawyers involved in it. I don’t know much about them, but I’m guessing a case this big will have plenty willing to work against an unfair system.”

Ms. McDavid nodded slowly, “Yes, but you are going to drop the appeal. It’s still all official, and the poor orphaned Kaylee gets brand new parents.”

I replied, “Yeah. No we aren’t. No fucking way. We are going to ride this out as long as possible.”

Ms. McDavid said, “I doubt very much your new parents will appreciate such language. Now as for your application, you are of course free to file it and have the matter heard before a new judge, but I would expect that it will fail too, especially if say Greg had a dropped domestic assault charge against him. No charges, but- judges still have access to those police reports. Do you really think it would be in Kaylee’s best interest to have her stay in a place where she might be hurt?”

I actually laughed directly in Ms. McDavid’s face, “Greg? Domestic assault? Maybe Eve, but there’s no fucking way anyone would believe Greg could do something like that.”

Ms. McDavid replied, “There only has to be a measure of doubt. None of the other applicants have anything resembling a criminal record. This is just a warning, sweetie. Have them drop the appeal. I suppose I could also introduce your friends to the serum too if you really push me. They’d face the same fate as Ashley. Then, I could leave you with three children who want nothing more than for you to be their playmate. I’m sure your language and behaviour would improve.”

Ms. McDavid stood, towering over me in the process, “You’re the last pawn on the board, Mr. Sullivan. It’s time to capitulate.”

***

“Why the hell did she take Ryan like that?” Eve looked angrily at Greg, actually shaking, “And why did you let her?”

Greg, who was clearly in Eve’s crosshairs, managed to maintain a semblance of his manhood. “W-Well he’s a ward of the state. Ms. McDavid is Ryan’s social worker. I was just trying to avoid making trouble. Anyway, Ryan’s back now.”

Greg and Eve turned toward me, their eyes screaming questions, and when I wasn’t immediately spilling my guts, Eve jumped in, her voice anxious, dripping with worry, like I had been lost for days. “Ryan, what happened? What did she say? I’ve got a lawyer interested in the case, a couple actually. Anything you can tell us would help.”

“Fuck, you guys are worse than my actual parents after my first day at a new school. Well mostly my mom. It was fine. We talked about the case. She just wanted to make sure I understood that I was probably going with another family soon.”

Greg put a hand on Eve’s shoulder, “See? It was nothing.” I wasn’t sure if Greg actually cared about me or whether he was just trying to push his sweaty body against Eve’s tonight. Probably a bit of both.

The lie came easily as I needed time to figure out what I was going to do. Could we run? Just leave and go somewhere else? Mexico would be the likely place because of Eve’s family there. Even if we escaped, would the government threats materialize, wiping away the existence of Eve and Greg, and possibly Jessica, leaving me with the knowledge that I was to blame? Even as I succumbed to the inevitability of it all, my adult self suffocated by my new playmates, I would know who I was and what I had done.

Eve said, “I’m really glad you’re safe, Ryan.” She picked up her purse and slung it over shoulder, “But I’ve gotta head back to work. Greg, I’ll e-mail the list of lawyers I’m considering. When I get home, we can all go over it. I don’t really know what we should be looking for, but a few of them said they’d be willing to even represent us at the federal court if it comes to it.”

Greg leaned in for a quick kiss and Eve reciprocated, “That’s great. See you tonight.”

Once Eve left, Greg looked at me seriously, “Did you get a chance to talk to her about Jessica and the townhouse yet? I’m kind of hesitant to bring it up with Jessica because I don’t know how far gone she is.”

I said, “You know maybe if Jessica and Eve find an object or a really powerful memory, like my dad’s pin, they can be reminded that they really don’t want to be my mom. I’ve noticed that both of them are way worse when you aren’t around. So you’ll just have to quit your job.”

Greg smiled, “Maybe. Have you had to try the pin again by the way?”

I replied sheepishly, “Well…kind of. That stupid fucking pink elephant commercial was on again.”

Greg raised a brow, “The one that turns the cereal pink? But I thought you didn’t watch TV?”

I frowned, feeling my shoulders sag, “I might have watched it on YouTube. A couple times. Anyway, yeah the pin worked.”

Greg asked, “How do you know?”

I replied, “Because I’m not sitting here eating any.”

Greg shook his head, “What makes you think you could convince us to buy you some?”

I smirked, “Well let’s see. You came to pick me up from your old apartment on the other side of town in a rain storm. On a night, where you were supposed to be going out with Eve. At this point, if I was really far gone like total Kaylee, I’d probably have a whole roomful of toys and you’d have trouble paying the rent.”

Greg grinned sheepishly, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

***

A day and a half after meeting with Ms. McDavid, I had my answer.

The next morning, my phone vibrated. I leaned over, thinking it was Jessica, Eve or Greg with news about the lawyer, but I had programmed the phone so each of them had their own colour. Instead, the phone’s LED light had turned a solid white.

It was an unknown number.

My heart immediately began racing, feeling like a thousand beats per minute, and as I held the phone, my hands shook like I’d downed ten Red bulls.

Unknown Number: It’s time

I already knew that I was leaving, but the words on my screen added a sense of finality to my decision. Looking around my sparsely decorated room, I quickly put the most important things I owned into the Hello Kitty backpack and placed it at the foot of my bed.

I slung the backpack over my shoulder and left through the front door. After pulling another double shift, Eve was still out cold, laid out on the pull-out couch, which barely fit her and Greg. Meanwhile, Greg had left to manage the breakfast rush at the Palace, and Jessica- well Eve was home so there was no need for her. Not that Eve would want her around anyway.

I crept toward the door, climbing onto my stool to unlock the chain and deadbolt. With a gentle click, the bolt released, but as it did, Eve stirred. It wasn’t the noise that woke her, no- it was likely her snoring, where she was seemingly trying to forcefully suck her nose into her face.

“Uhhh…Ryan? Where are you going?”

I lied through my teeth, “Going to see Mrs. Feinstein so we can read more of that book I was telling you about.”

Eve looked at me through tiny eyes. A small smile appeared on her face as she groaned and turned over, “Oh…uhh. Um. Have fun…baby girl.”

She was still half asleep, but despite this fact, a knife stabbed at my heart, causing a dull ache that slowly seeped into my head. Should I hug her? Would that remove the pain? Or would it be impossible to leave once I entered her embrace?

I muttered, “Bye, Eve.”

Eve groaned again, and her snoring quickly resumed. I closed the door behind me with a gentle click. The dull ache in my heart and head hadn’t subsided, but I soldiered through, walking toward the elevator.

When I reached the lobby, Ms. McDavid was waiting for me. “Oh, Kaylee! You won’t need that. You’ll have a wonderful new room full of toys and dresses and games.” She pointed to my backpack.

The woman walked behind me and unzipped the pack, easily grabbing my hands as I tried to fend her off. “No. No. This won’t do. Kaylee wouldn’t have any of these things.” She pulled out my copy of the Godfather that I had bought from a used bookstore when I was thirteen years old, and then threw it in a large silver trash can.

Then, a picture taken a year and half ago at a house party in Greg and Eve’s old apartment joined the book. It revealed a confident and very drunk Ryan Sullivan with his arm around a less than impressed Eve and a nervous Greg, who looked terrified to be so close to Eve. I had talked Greg into making a move on Eve that night and things actually worked out. It was actually the start of their relationship, their real relationship. I originally found the picture in Greg’s dresser and decided to borrow it.

“What would your new parents think about you keeping this? Hmm? That’s not very nice, Kaylee.”

“OK, this you can keep. And what’s this a ring? I guess we’ll let your parents decide if you can wear it.”

My dad’s pin was safely stored in an unused ring box I again borrowed from Greg, and thankfully, Ms. McDavid hadn’t bothered opening it. The only other object left in the pack was the charger to my cell, which would be my lifeline to the people who mattered most to me.

Just outside the apartment, I saw a waiting taxi. Two figures stood next to the taxi, nothing more than feet and legs from my vantage point. With this realization, that two people who would take me away from my friends, the only real friends I had ever had other than Hannah, I grew nervous.

I whispered, “Look, you d-don’t need to do this. I won’t say anything. I’ll just live with Eve, Greg and Jessica. If the project is over, why does it matter if I know?”

Ms. McDavid whispered harshly, “Because the project was a failure. Daniels sullied it. It was never meant to be used to create child stars or to make money as an adoption agency to the elite. It was supposed to be the panacea. The cure-all for humanity, the ability to rejuvenate not only tissues but whole bodies, remove life-threatening illnesses. Anything. Daniels perverted the project, and I don’t want anything to do with it. The government is wiping everything to do with it, including you. I’m sorry, Ryan. My career is at stake. I’ve worked nearly twenty years on this. I realize that it was never supposed to see the light of day. Humanity simply cannot have such power without bringing greed and self-want into the equation. Dr. Travers saw this before Daniels came into the picture, but it’s all too late now.”

I lowered my head, feeling the enormity of Ms. McDavid’s words crush my little body. “But, I’ll still remember everything. I’ll know who I was. I could still tell someone.”

Ms. McDavid nodded, “You could, but you won’t. Not if you want to avoid your friends returning to elementary school or even daycare. And as for your memories, we’ve chosen the perfect family for you. You’ll make brand new wonderful memories, and eventually, your old ones won’t fit who you are becoming, and you’ll forget. But you’ll be happy, I promise you, Kaylee.”

Ms. McDavid reached out her hand, waiting for me to take it. She said softly, “Now, are you ready to meet your new mommy and daddy?”

Chapter 25 (Designer Children by OneShot20XX) Reach me at oneshot20XX@gmail.com

We walked toward the waiting taxi, Ms. McDavid firmly tugging me toward the two figures that gradually became more than just limbs- no, they were the people who were going to take me away from Greg, Eve and Jessica. Maybe they lived in town? There were a few applicants from California at least.

A man and a woman stood smiling, both happy, but the woman was ecstatic, wearing a wide grin. Both were dressed like they had stepped out of a GAP ad, the woman in khaki shorts, while the man, despite the return to sweltering temperatures, wore a pair of loose fitting khaki pants.

Ms. McDavid said, “Kaylee, I’d like you to meet your new parents, the Pattersons.” The woman placed her hand at the small of my back and gave a little push, sending me forward suddenly, directly into the arms of my new parents. The two of them hugged me firmly, the woman again showing more enthusiasm than her counterpart.

As they did so, I could feel their bodies pressed against me. The woman was curvaceous without being plump, like Eve but toned and wearing clothing that actually fit. I definitely would have given her a second look, but she wasn’t exactly my type. My eyes would have lingered but nothing else would have come from it. She towered over me, but then everyone did, so it was hard to tell who was tall anymore.

My first impression of her husband was that he looked like a grown-up nerd. He wore a pair of fashionable thick black frames (the type nearly everyone wore), but his scrawny frame with a dark green polo shirt hanging off of it, told the story of a man who had last played a sport in his freshman year of high school. Eve, who rarely made it to the gym, had more muscle mass than he did. He looked like the type who spent his days hunched over a desk.

Both were pale, but considering I had barely been outside since leaving the studio, we were a good match. The woman, who was to be my new mother, released the hug and leaned down, placing her hands on my hips. “Kaylee, we’re so, so happy that you’re coming to live with us. I know it’s going to be an adjustment for you, but I think you’ll love Minnesota as much as California.”

I had only met a few people from Minnesota. We got lots of tourists at the Palace, but the accent was distinct. Minnesotans sounded like Canadians, both talked about how nice the weather was in LA. Minnesotans also loved to try and one up each other with how cold it was in their part of the state and if there were any Canadian around- they joined in too.

I fucking hated snow. The bases we were transferred to tended to be either out west or in the south, places like Florida and Arizona. We spent six months in North Dakota, and it was fucking cold, like freeze your nuts off cold. By then, I was in my teens, so I didn’t really see the point in the white, fluffy stuff other than my parents making me shovel the driveway and brush off the car.

Ms. McDavid said, “Oh I’m sure she’ll adjust fine, Kathryn. Just keep in mind what I told you too, Kaylee’s probably picked up some bad habits working in Hollywood. It’s a different lifestyle, so expect some strange behaviour. That’s why it’s important to make sure she has as normal a childhood as possible.”

The man, whose name I recalled was Thomas, said, “What do you mean, Ms. McDavid?”

Ms. McDavid smiled, “Don’t be in a hurry to let her grow up too fast. Kids her age want a lot of independence, but you can’t forget how old she is. She’ll need your help to guide her. She’s also got a very active little imagination. Try and encourage her to use it as much as possible. But most of all, just let her be a kid!”

Kathryn nodded and said excitedly, “Oh don’t worry. Thomas and I have read all the books. We know what to expect.”

Thomas, who looked as always less enthused, said, “What do mean by bad habits?”

The smile never left Ms. McDavid’s face, “Well, she can be a little mouthy, but that’s to be expected. She’ll be testing her boundaries pretty often.” Then, little by little the smile crumbled, and the social worker’s chin sagged slightly, “She also has a little- uh- swearing problem.”

Kathryn looked at Ms. David incredulously. “Unbelievable. This sweet little girl?”

Ms. McDavid nodded and leaned forward, putting her hand on my shoulder, “She probably picked it up from some older children either at the studio or the orphanage. If you’ve read the books, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, but you are her parents now. It’s up to you to address how she uses language.”

Thomas looked down at me with a sympathetic smile, “That’s something I wanted to ask about too. We understand what happened at the studio. It’s one of the reasons why we wanted so badly for Kaylee to be part of our family. In your experience, when children undergo a traumatic experience, is it better to discuss it with them? Should we encourage her to speak to us, or just let her come to us of her own volition?”

The conversation seemed to go on forever, and while it was about me, I was never asked for my opinion- not even a word of input. The words swirled around me like something just out of my grasp. My imagination decided to fill the void, and in letting it loose, it crafted a wonderful scene- Greg and Eve arriving on black helicopters, Jessica on a military ATV with the President in tow on Air Force One. I don’t know how all of the vehicles fit on the two lane street, but they did. My new parents were surrounded and arrested by Eve, who was suddenly a cop.

Ms. McDavid ran, escaping in a Ferrari that blazed down the street. The President and Jessica gave chase, and just as it looked like the car would escape, it skidded out of control after striking some…ice. Looking down from a building like a superhero was a smiling Elsa-

“…and she’s probably not used to a regular bedtime routine either. The young couple she was staying with gave her a lot of leeway there. Just remember that these are her formative years and getting enough sleep is critical to her physical and mental development.”

As the world of make believe descended on me, it felt like a train, the slow plodding steam engine quickly became a Japanese bullet train. It snatched me, taking me for an impossible ride, and then as it reached its final destination, I threw myself from the vehicle after finally managing to gain control.

Fucking, Elsa? My imagination was fucking shitting me.

I could barely remember anything from the conversation. It probably contained important information about where I was going and what my new parents were planning to do to me, but as they droned on, it became harder and harder to pay attention. My mind wandered and then took a little trip, leaving me at a distinct disadvantage.

Still- fucking, Elsa? It couldn’t have been Batman, Superman, Spider-man- I would have even accepted a pussy like Aquaman or a shitty team like Fantastic Four, but a Disney Princess?

Ms. McDavid said, “I’m sure you two will do fine. You’ve been ready for years. I know she’ll be a challenge, but it’ll all be worth it in the end. Once you iron out some of her little wrinkles, you’ll have a smart, loving, beautiful little daughter. I won’t keep you three, I know it’s a long flight back to Minnesota.”

She leaned down to me, pulled me close and whispered, “Remember what I said, Kaylee. If you tell, then you damn your friends. You’ll force us to wipe everyone who knows anything about the project. This is a win-win. The Pattersons will be wonderful parents, you’ll be a good little girl, and I will get this black mark removed from my career.”

I sneered, “I don’t give a shit about your career.”

Thomas turned, looking worried suddenly, “Uh. What did you say, Kaylee?”

Ms. McDavid smiled, “Oh just that she’s going to miss me. Isn’t that right, Kaylee?”

I wanted to tear Ms. McDavid’s eyes out with rusty hooks, make her crawl through barbed wire and assassinate her mob style all in one instant. She had taken me away from the only people I cared about in the world, but I couldn’t go full-blown American Psycho on her, and while I attempted to picture it, my mind pushed back fiercely. Inklings of fear settled as I played my favourite movie scenes with Ms. McDavid as the hapless victim.

Ms. McDavid gently pat my head, “I’ll miss you too, Kaylee. Bye, sweetie! You be good.” Now, I was a fucking dog. It was obvious she was trying to rattle me.

Kathryn said, “Thank you so much, Ms. McDavid- for everything you did. We’ve been waiting for years to adopt, been on so many different lists. I don’t know what you did exactly, but all I want to say is that we’re eternally grateful. We thought it would never happen. And now we have Kaylee. She’s just-“ Thomas moved over and put his arm on Kathryn’s shoulder as her voice started breaking.

“She’s perfect. She’s everything we could have hoped for.”

Ms. McDavid smiled, “Go on now, you’ll miss your flight.”

Kathryn reached down and took my hand, leading me to the taxi. My new wannabe parents sat me in the middle seat, fawning over me like a newly acquired puppy. As the taxi pulled away, I saw Eve running toward the car, looking more like an Olympic athlete than a slightly overweight nurse. The taxi was stuck at a red light. She sprinted with determination, blowing past Ms. McDavid, hefting her thick legs and cutting a path. However, as the light changed and the taxi lurched forward, her run became a shambling jog. As buildings and objects started to whiz by, Eve stopped dead, hunched over, likely sucking in copious amounts of air.

Moments later, the taxi pulled away in earnest, and the last thing I saw was a look of absolute sadness, Eve’s features pained and her body returning to a hunched position- and finally, a simple wave.

***

“Kaylee, are you OK? Do you want something to eat?”

“Kathryn, we might want to give her a bit of space. You remember that article I sent you? Adoption always results in a loss. She obviously cared very deeply about those people she was staying with. After what happened to her and how they took her in, well it’s going to be very hard for her to be separated from them.”

Kathryn nodded, her long legs crossing as she sat in one of the uncomfortable looking chairs at gate 18. “I know. I just I can’t believe it finally happened.”

Thomas smiled, “And now you won’t be the one trying to hog all the kids at the Christmas gatherings every year. Or knocking on doors and asking to hold people’s babies.”

Kathryn grinned, “Sophia was crying in everyone else’s arms and that other thing only happened once.”

Thomas nodded, “I know. And for Kaylee. We’re going to have to ease her into things.”

Wow, these two sounded like a couple of fucking pushovers. They probably believed in letting kids run the place, creating ‘imagination spaces’ or some bullshit like that. If it meant that I could do what I wanted, which included contacting the people I cared about and avoiding more and more of the serum infesting my mind, maybe Thomas and Kathryn Patterson wouldn’t be so terrible.

I knew that the researchers were still working on unlocking Dr. Travers’ code, and Eve mentioned they had cracked a portion of it. While I had mostly disliked science in school and despised it for what it had done to my body, I had to admit that it was my best and likely only chance.

They left me alone while we waited for the flight. I played ‘Nazi Zombies Revenge- the Bloody End’ on my phone, eviscerating, disemboweling, incinerating but mostly headshotting hundreds of blood-soaked, ragged inhumans frothing at the bit for my brains. It wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as I remembered, but it passed the time, and it allowed me to forget momentarily where I was going. Minnesota, land of frozen balls, could very well wipe away Ryan Sullivan, but the non-stop gore and action kept my mind busy and away from my potential fate.

“Now boarding gate 18, flight to Minneapolis-Saint Paul.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning rapidly, I could see Kathryn with a look of surprise, which soon turned to disgust. Her eyes stared straight at the screen of my smart phone, seemingly burned there as blood and viscera exploded from a group of zombies that had stepped into one of my homemade shrapnel traps. The woman blinked slowly, and I could almost see the cogs and wheels turning in her head as she tried to grasp the six year old girl playing one of the most violent games on the planet.

Kathryn cleared her throat lightly. Her lips were firm, while her chin was forced downward, causing it to protrude slightly. Meanwhile, her eyes bugged out of her skull like some sort of praying mantis human hybrid. “I-It’s time to go, Kaylee.” She reached out her hand, but I simply got up, stuffed my phone into my bag and went to stand in line.

Thomas said, “She’ll come around, Kat. Just give her time. She definitely independent. I’d say that’s a good thing.”

We settled into the plane. I’d been on lots of them, usually one every year as we moved to another base. Again, I was sandwiched in between Kathryn and Thomas, both of whom tried too hard to get me to like them, plying me with stories of ‘beautiful’ Minnesota, although again Kathryn more so than her husband.

Three hours into the trip, my phone started to die, so I was forced to end my massive zombie kill streak. I quickly attached the charger and started fiddling with the on-demand videos offered on the plane, moving to the next means to keep my mind from parsing my reality.

Kathryn said, “Sweetie, Kaylee, honey, do you want to hear about your room? I think you’re going to love it.”

I flicked through the TV options as Thomas watched worriedly, his eyes bugging out like his wife’s as my finger stopped on a gritty crime drama.

Kathryn, not waiting for my affirmative, continued, “It’s Frozen themed. Ms. McDavid said it’s your favourite movie. I’m not surprised though, all little girls your age seem to love it.”

I rolled my eyes, wishing I had a pair of thick headphones to block out Kathryn’s constant nattering.

Kathryn said, “Mrs. Feinstein had some wonderful things to say about you. Did you know that she’s your granny now? And Sophia and Emma are your cousins. We’re going to have everyone over for a big Christmas dinner this year to welcome you to the family.”

Fucking, Feinstein. Next time I saw her, I would tell her exactly what I thought of her. I knew that it wasn’t her fault, and that it was some shadow branch of the government trying to erase me, but it didn’t matter. My brain narrowed my enemy- the old woman with the cane.

My finger hovered over the true crime drama and both Kathryn and Thomas shared worried looks, but five minutes in, and they hadn’t done anything to stop me. I was starting to think that I could get away with murder with these two as my supposed guardians- or at least grand larceny. I watched the entire show without a word from either of them. By the time the end credits rolled, my eyes were heavy. The flight was long- almost seven hours, so it was easy to just drift off to sleep.

When I woke up, I saw Kathryn frantically flipping through the pages of some parenting book. Thomas was on his iPad probably doing the same thing. The Palace was actually pretty chic for a burger joint, and it attracted plenty of trendy thirty-something mothers who talked incessantly about the trendiest parenting theories. If I had to sleep in the same bed as these two, I would fucking scream. So far, from what I could tell, they were free-range parents. I didn’t really understand the theory (beyond recalling the name), but it was a let the kid do whatever the fuck they want style.

I yawned lightly and then reached for my phone, quickly rejoining the wonderful world of Nazi zombie slaying. Kathryn and Thomas continued to share worried looks, but neither of them intervened.

Kathryn said, “Maybe I should call my sister.”

Thomas replied, “This is probably what Ms. McDavid was warning us about. We’re ready for this, Kat. We need to do what this article is suggesting. I know you don’t like the idea of becoming like your mother or her sister, but all the experts say that children need clear boundaries. This is a little girl who needs structure as much as she needs love.”

Kathryn sighed lightly while I blew apart the skulls of ten zombies in a single hit, earning a bright shiny achievement. “Agatha and my mother were wonderful teachers, but I’m just not the schoolmarm type, Thomas. You’ve seen how I run my classrooms.”

Thomas nodded, “I think we can find a good balance. You know between her robbing liquor stores and her being seen but not heard.”

Kathryn asked softly, “Like your dad you mean?”

Thomas replied, “I never want her to fear us. Ever.”

Kathryn said, “I know what we need to start doing, but considering what she’s been through…I’m not sure I have it in me.”

Thomas nodded, “I feel the same way. I know that she’s had a very difficult life, but look at it this way, this is our chance to finally be parents. And for her- well she’ll have a family. Adults that care for her and don’t just want to use her.”

Despite the conviction in their voices, I doubted that either of them could pull the trigger when the time came.

“Maybe you should try a different game, Kaylee?” The question came from Thomas.

It was clear that Kathryn and Thomas were going to be like the parents who brought their kids to the Palace. The type who let their kids wreck up the place like three-foot tall natural disasters who smeared ketchup on the tables and benches. If they were anything like that, I would have the run of the place.

“Would you please try a different game, Kaylee?” The question came from Kathryn.

I continued to murder legions of undead Nazis and neither of them said a word. Kathryn flipped through the parenting books, and Thomas looked grimly at his tablet. After two minutes, he spoke up.

“Maybe it would be fun to try a different game or watch something fun on TV. Look, they have some cartoons you might like.”

My eyes never left the screen, “Nope. I like this one.”

Fucking pathetic. These two were worse than the parents from the Palace and my mom combined. It was perfect for me. Would bargaining, followed by begging be next? Greg of all people had more of a backbone than my wannabe parents. I smirked. Would my behaviour be so bad that they just give up, allowing me to go back to Greg and Eve’s?

It was hard to believe that Kathryn was actually a Feinstein. Apparently, she’d been neutered.

The plane landed without incident, and I continued playing my game while Kathryn and Thomas waited for their luggage. They were muttering to themselves, something about Ivy League schools and failure. I didn’t give a shit, especially since I was on level 91, a mere three levels away from the end. There was always the downloadable content with extra levels, which I could probably convince either hapless parent to buy using their credit card.

The luggage came, and we exited the airport through a large set of double automatic doors. As we neared the road to cross into the parking lot, Kathryn took my hand. “It’s busy here, Kaylee. Stay close and hold my hand.”

I pulled out of her grip and met her with a glare, “I know how to cross the street. And keep in mind, I lived in LA. There’s more cars than people.”

Thomas said, “Well just stay close then.” The muttering resumed as we crossed the street. I couldn’t understand the cause for concern, especially since it was a one-way street with a stop sign.

We eventually stopped in front of a nice V8 BMW SUV. The fucking thing was sleek. I expected a mini-van or a shitty sedan, but the silver SUV was fucking sick looking. I knew right off that it was a V8 because of the dual exhausts. Thomas hit an automatic starter and the V8 roared to life. I walked around the beast, checking out the double-spoke alloy wheels and the BMW plating on the front with a gleeful smile. If only I could drive the fucking thing. Goddamn, the car even seemed to change colours depending on the angle, sometimes a shiny metallic silver, other almost a bullet grey sheen. Why the fuck did I have to be six years old?

Kathryn said, “Wow, she lit up like a Christmas tree. I guess she likes cars?”

Thomas replied, “I guess so. Anything wrong with that?”

Kathryn walked over to the rear passenger side door and opened it with a gentle click, “No. Um. Not at all. It’s nice to see her excited over something other than that game.”

I knew I wouldn’t be driving it, but I couldn’t wait to get inside. With the door opened, I could see the illuminated dashboard, the plush red leather seats- the cockpit with real wood and chrome matte finishing and a massive eyesore.

I expected this, especially considering Kathryn and Thomas had seemingly done their homework on the whole parenting thing, but I didn’t expect something so…humiliating.

“No fucking way am I sitting in that thing.”

Thomas said matter-of-factly, “Kaylee, it’s the law.”

I shook my head fiercely causing my long hair to swish into my eyes, which only caused me to grow angrier. “I’m not sitting in that. It’s for babies.”

Kathryn said softly, “It’s actually for big kids, honey. And it’s the safest, best reviewed and thoroughly tested seat on the market.”

“And that’s supposed to impress me? I don’t fucking care! Why do you have to be psycho helicopter parents? Why can’t I just sit in a normal booster seat?”

Thomas frowned, “It’s very important to us that you are safe.”

I replied with a quick stomp of my feet, “Well it’s important to me that I don’t look and feel like a fucking baby. I’m not getting in there.” My men marched onto the hill for their last stand, guns drawn, pointing at the enemy, Kathryn and Thomas Patterson, who were attempting to assault the position. I dug my heels in for effect, going completely dead weight while crossing my arms underneath my slim chest. Nothing mattered except winning at this point. Lost was all adult thought, worries about how ridiculous I must have looked- I was going to beat these fuckers.

I was not sitting in that seat. The stupid thing looked like it was made for an overgrown toddler with a harness and safety straps that buckled between my legs. Brianna’s booster seat would have been preferable on so many levels.

Thomas groaned, “OK, now I know what Ms. McDavid was talking about. She’s- spirited- to say the least. Kat, are you listening to me?”

“Young lady, we’ve had quite enough of this behaviour. You march into that car this instant and sit in your seat. And as for this,” she plucked my smart phone out of my hands, after a moment of fiddling with it, she placed it back into my hands. I stared down at my screen in disbelief as a smiling cartoon alligator surrounded by a group of equally gleeful zoo animals danced joyfully. At the top of the screen, written in what looked like crayon were the words: KIDS MODE.

“That game you were playing is completely inappropriate for young girls. It’s questionable if anyone should even be playing it given its graphic content. Now I don’t want to hear another word from you until we’re buckling your harness.” Kathryn emphasized her words with an intense stare and slight stomping of her foot. It was enough to cause me to jump slightly.

My men had been decimated by a voice that cut through them like laser fire. As I clambered into the car seat, allowing myself to be buckled and safely harnessed, my men fled the hill, ceding it to the enemy.

Thomas and Kathryn entered the car themselves, and Thomas slowly pulled away. The car seat itself wasn’t uncomfortable, and to be honest, it was better than being half strangled by the shoulder belt, but I was still pissed and the smiling dancing animals weren’t helping.

“Wow. That was impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that. Like this fury, but controlled. That’s the Feinstein in you.”

Kathryn replied, “Only a couple times. Once with a student who thought he could plagiarize his final essay. I felt terrible because he was practically crying by the end of it. I’m thankful it was in my office. And another time with Janet Plinkett. I’d had enough of her gossiping about our issues. I told her so. She didn’t open her mouth to me for a month after that.”

Thomas laughed, “I was wondering why she had stopped asking if you were pregnant yet. Just be glad you aren’t her daughter and unmarried, you’d never hear the end of it. I feel sorry for Bethany.”

It was Kathryn’s turn to laugh now, “You know she’s gay right? She’d never tell her mother, but she’s been seeing a girl from Saint Paul. She’ll probably move there soon enough.”

While the two in the front blathered on and on, I attempted to circumvent KIDS MODE on my phone. However, there were two problems with this. Kathryn had smartly set a password, blocking access to any other part of the phone, and I actually really wanted to play “Jungle Rescue 123” and “Word Fun”. The little icons bounced and moved to some oddly catchy music, seemingly screaming “Pick me!” My little finger hovered over both games, but I managed to fight the urge, until I mistakenly flicked the screen to the next page, which had at least ten different games, whose colourful moving icons beckoned my finger.

While KIDS MODE should have been harmless, and safer than regular mode which gave little girls access to violent and scary games, I quickly realized that the pull of their manic joyful gyrations was powerful. My thoughts immediately went to getting the phone the fuck away from me. A quick look to the window and door revealed child safety locks next to my car seat.

Even if I could have opened the window, I soon found my eyes glued to the screen, but one game in particular caught my attention. Slippin’ Sally featured a cartoon elephant slipping on banana peels. From what I could gather of the title screen, a group of naughty monkeys were running from an angry elephant, and the constant replay of the slipping elephant caused me to break into a grin. I shouldn’t have found it funny, a stupid elephant falling down, but it was- hilarious even.

I tried to stifle the giggles, but the laughter broke through, causing me to burst into a high-pitched giggle multiple times. Even shutting my mouth firmly only funnelled the laughter into my nose, which resulted in subtle snorts. Belted and harnessed as I was, I couldn’t reach my backpack, which contained my dad’s pin.

Kathryn looked back at me with a smile, “What’s so funny, Kaylee?”

Thomas said, “Kat, I know you put her phone on a different mode, but don’t you think she’s had enough screen time today? I’m not sure if we’re establishing the rules in a way that’s consistent. Especially if tomorrow we tell her she can only have an hour or two. We could see World War Three tomorrow. The end of life itself as we know it.”

Kathryn snickered, “We could see it in the car. But I get you. Hey, maybe we could play a game together. Would you like that, Kaylee? Here, honey, give me your phone and we’ll play the animal game.”

I held out the phone, relief pouring over me instantly as Kathryn took it from me. The animal game sounded fucking stupid, but it was better than being lobotomized by a clumsy elephant. Kathryn’s face showed shock as she easily pulled the phone away, and then happy surprise as her features quickly brightened.

Thomas, who drove directly on the speed limit, making what should have been a fast-paced ride akin to a driver’s test, said with clear surprise, “Wow. That was easy. You’ve got the touch.”

Once we left the airport and the city limits, the scenery changed dramatically. Where tall towers graced the sky marking the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul, we were left with row upon row of cornfields. The inklings of boredom started to creep into my skull, and the animal game, or any game for that matter was sounding better and better.

Kathryn said, “OK, Kaylee. You come up with an animal. Then we’ll try and guess it by asking you questions.”

I shrugged lightly, which was difficult considering how tightly I was buckled in the car seat. It was a dumb game, but if it kept me from being bored and needing to rely on my imagination then it was a necessary evil.

I said, “OK, I’ve got one.”

Thomas asked, “Does it live in North America?”

Kathryn said, “She probably doesn’t know the different continents.”

I replied, “Yes I do. And yeah, it lives there.”

Thomas said, “And you doubted her. OK, it’s still my turn. Is it bigger than a dog?”

I replied, “Definitely.”

Thomas, who was clearly enjoying the game said excitedly, “Does it live in the forest?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

Thomas said, “OK, this one might be a little hard. Do you know what a predator is, Kaylee?”

I replied, “Yes, it’s an animal that hunts other animals- prey. No, it’s not a predator.”

Kathryn piped in happily, “Wow. Did Mrs. Feinstein teach you all that, Kaylee? Still, that’s really impressive that you understand that and can apply it like that.”

Thomas added, “We should get our act in gear and open up a college fund for her. Something tells me we’ve got a smarty on our hands.”

Kathryn said excitedly, “Agatha mentioned that she can read. Can you believe that? And she was reading a very advanced book too. I think that Twin Falls Collegiate is the right place for her.”

I was hoping that by demonstrating my intelligence that I could avoid school altogether, but apparently my new home had some sort of uppity private school.

Kathryn said, “OK, it’s my turn. So it’s not a predator and it lives in the forest. Larger than a dog. That definitely narrows it down. Is it a deer?”

I shook my head, “Not exactly.”

Thomas asked, “Is it a moose?”

Again, I shook my head, “No.”

Kathryn paused, while I started to see that the animal game was actually quite fun. Here I was stumping two more than likely highly educated people. Of course, I had an advantage in having a father who hunted, so I knew every single forest animal from a hare to a grizzly bear, including their tracks and mating calls.

Thomas spoke, but he lacked his earlier confidence, “Is it larger than a deer?”

I replied, “Yup.”

Thomas said, “Well I don’t know. It’s not a made up animal is it? Ms. McDavid said you’ve got a wonderful imagination.”

I said through clenched teeth, “No, it’s not. And that counts as your turn.”

Kathryn laughed lightly, “She’s got you there. Well I have no idea. What is it, Kaylee?”

I said, “An elk.”

Thomas said, “But that’s a moose!”

I shook my head, “Not even close. A moose has a long snout. Elk are smaller than moose and they have smaller antlers.” In most areas, moose hunting was outlawed, but elk and deer could be shot. Every hunter had to know the difference or face a fine, possibly even losing their licence.

Thomas said, “Well done, Kaylee. Since you stumped us, you can go again.”

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the game, and how well it worked to pass the time in the car. The drive was long, but the game at least made it at least somewhat passable. The day itself felt like many days, or even a whole week, and the constant travel combined with my anxiety and my tantrum over the seat proved tiring. Even as we started another round, my eyes grew heavy.

“Kaylee? It’s your turn, honey.”

“Kaylee?”

***

I felt the car turn slowly, but instead of accelerating through the curve, the car maintained a constant speed. Either Thomas had become the world’s most cautious driver, or we were off the highway. As much as I wanted to see what was happening, I found I couldn’t open my eyes more than a sliver. Within that sliver of sight, I only saw darkness, so apparently I had sleeping for a little while.

As I drifted in and out, I could feel the car turn a few more times, until finally the car stopped completely. The world around me was a quasi-dream, sounds seemingly softened by a massive fluffy pillow. It was a little like being underwater and hearing voices above.

“Aww, she fell asleep. Here we can put this on Facebook.”

My eyes crested slightly, again just a sliver, but they immediately slammed shut with the invasion of bright light.

“Thomas, you blinded her.”

I felt myself being lifted out the car seat and carried. My mind, still within a dream-like state, had forgotten about who was actually carrying me or where they were taking me- no, instead I nestled my head and body into the embrace. The person carrying me had some difficulty as my head bobbed up and down, especially as we climbed a set of creaky steps. Moments later, I was carefully laid down, my head making contact with something soft.

“Shouldn’t we brush her teeth? Get her pajamas on?”

“Look at her, she looks so sweet. Do you really want to wake her up? She’ll probably be really, really grumpy.”

“You’re right. Here you go, sweetie.”

I felt something shift underneath my body, and then instant warmth as that same something was draped across me. It was pulled tight, but I didn’t feel claustrophobic. On the contrary, I was comfortable, nestled underneath softness that seemed to hug my little body and only pushed my mind closer toward deep sleep.

“Thomas, I-I just can’t believe this has finally happened. Our little girl- our baby, she’s finally home.”

I heard what sounded like gentle crying and then creaking footsteps leaving toward the door.

***

My eyes flashed open, but instead of darkness, light spilled within, impossibly bright sunshine. Birds chirped outside, and my body felt primed for the day. Before my change, I had to guzzle coffee to feel less like a member of the walking dead. It was the problem with shift work and then partying afterward- getting in at 3 AM, hair of the dog with some Jack and then waking up at ten or even eight sometimes for the morning rush at the Palace.

Now, however, I felt alert, like I had already had three cups of coffee and full of an intense energy. I rolled over without a groan or anything resembling a complaint and came face to face with…Elsa.

I had been sleeping on Elsa’s face.

As I turned over, I realized that Kathryn wasn’t kidding about the Frozen theme. But how was it even possible if I had never seen the movie? Could my mind have somehow filled in the visual gaps from just the audio? I knew that the four poster bed was the same one, or a reasonable facsimile, that Elsa slept in every night. It even had the kind of curtains thing, but they were sheer, which made them useless against the sun, but I guess-

My attention was captured by a vanity looking like it belonged in a fairy tale. Around the sides of the mirror were pretty wooden flowers, each one was intricately carved and painted in different shades of pink, purple and yellow. On the vanity was a collection of hair accessories and a purple Frozen-themed hair brush.

Kathryn and Thomas must have fucking robbed the Disney store because even my covers were emblazoned with the characters from the studio’s most recent cash cow. Wow, and if you lined it up properly, the covers actually matched with the Elsa head pillow. It was like wearing the pretty dress while you slept.

The sunlight illuminated what seemed like hundreds of plastic snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. Incredibly, each one was shaped differently. The sunlight danced along the surface causing the flakes to glow bright whitish-blue. One wall was painted bright blue and along the edge, just before the ceiling were a series of shimmering icicles. On the opposite wall before the bed was a mural featuring the characters from the movie with the words KAYLEE’S ROOM painted in bright pink letters above it.

On the bed itself amongst the Elsa pillow were three stuffed animals, or rather humans- I didn’t know the word. Either way, they were soft, plushy-like dolls of the characters.

The room itself was massive, probably bigger than my bachelor apartment or at least similar in size. Next to the door was a stacked bookcase and on the other side, a toy chest, filled to the brim. In the far corner of the room, immediately next to the vanity was a wardrobe closet. Unable to contain my curiosity, I flung open the doors and found all manner of gowns, dresses, skirts, but what caught my eye was the shimmering blue and white gown with sleeves that looked like they were made from fairy wings.

Beneath the gowns were a collection of slippers and even a pair of heeled (not high) shoes. In a small basket just above the shoes, I grinned as I saw a selection of plastic crowns.

My mind was completely overwhelmed. It was like I was a convict being executed in the gas chamber, the gas seeping into my pores and filling my lungs. I couldn’t escape it, and when I managed to tear myself away from the dresses, I found myself standing in front of the toy chest.

I raised the lid slightly and then slammed it shut, quickly returning to the safety of my bed. The pillow and covers, however, threw my mind back into Frozen mode, and I remembered the beautiful dress that looked like it was just my size.

Fuck. Where was that backpack with my dad’s pin inside?

I looked around the room frantically, desperately trying to spot the Hello Kitty backpack. Was it still in the car?

As my eyes scanned the room, I noticed a gentle scratching at the door, followed by a slight meow. Oh fuck. When I failed to immediately open the door, the scratching grew in intensity. I continued to ignore it, but then I heard a distinct banging. Was the fucking cat actually trying to break into my room? Even Hannah’s cat didn’t do that.

The white door to my new bedroom, which had a Frozen-themed growth chart tacked to it, shook and then popped open. I quickly realized how the cat managed to force open the door. While the door itself didn’t seem perfectly aligned, which did not allow the latch to catch properly, the cat was massive. Maybe I was small, but it seemed like it was half my size.

It bounded into the room like a cheetah and proceeded to launch itself on the bed. The black cat, looking like it would suit any witch or cat lady, immediately began rubbing itself on me. It didn’t so much as purr but rumble, its entire frame seeming to reverberate.

“Gah! Go away!” I backpedaled, my butt soon reaching the headboard of my bed. The cat, however, persisted. Like Hannah’s cat, it seemed to just love torturing the people who hated cats by trying to sit in their lap- the enormous black cat did just that, quickly stalking toward me.

Footsteps in the hallway caused the cat’s head to swivel, and thankfully, it was enough of a distraction to stop the cat’s approach.

Kathryn peeked his head in the door. “Good morning, Kaylee! I see you met Midnight. It looks he really likes you.”

I shook my head, “I don’t really like cats.”

Kathryn looked disappointed, “But how could you even know what it’s like to have a kitty cat, Kaylee? They didn’t allow them in the orphanage or at the studio I’m sure. And you’ll love Midnight, he’s like a big happy puffball. He’s very affectionate. I’m sure you’ll be friends.”

I crossed my arms underneath my chest in a pose that was becoming quite common, “I just don’t like them. I had a bad experience with one OK?” With cats, you just couldn’t trust them. Hannah’s cat would be sitting in your lap one moment and biting you the next. I swear, the fucking thing would bite you sometimes while you were petting it. Thing was psycho.

Kathryn frowned gently, “OK, Kaylee. If you feel that way, we’ll keep Midnight out of your room.”

I nodded, “Well you’ll need to fix that door first. The thing just busted in here.” Kathryn walked over and scooped Midnight into her arms. She deposited him outside the door and then made a subtle shooing motion. After this, she turned her attention to the door, opening and closing it.

“I see what you mean. I’ll call the repairman, and we’ll get it fixed right away.” A smile grew on her face, “Do you like your new room though?” There was expectation in her voice mixed with hope.

“It’s OK. I don’t really like Frozen though.”

The smile fell off of Kathryn’s face as if it had never been there in first place, hard lines formed into a disappointed frown. “Oh.”

I asked, “Why do you need to call someone to fix the door? Just take it off the hinges and realign it to line it up with the latch.”

Kathryn raised a brow, “Uh. Well, Thomas and I- we aren’t, we aren’t very good with our hands. And Mr. Milner is great. This is an old house. It needs a lot of upkeep. Oh he even made your vanity. Isn’t it pretty?”

I shook my head, “So you guys don’t even try?”

Kathryn frowned again. It was clear that something within was churning, but she wasn’t saying anything like a car revving but sitting in neutral at a light. Finally, she spoke, “Um. No I-I guess we don’t.” Kathryn looked like she wanted to be a million miles away at that moment.

She cleared her throat gently, “I-I bet you’re excited for school in a week. Later we can go shopping for some clothes and things you’ll need. And the first grade! That’s a big deal, right?”

My eyes widened, and my face, if judging Kathryn’s sudden concern, must have looked like the typical horror movie victim seconds before the machete, axe or chainsaw strikes. A fucking week? A week? How had the entire summer past? It seemed so long, but then I had lost almost complete track of time. The days all melded together, weekdays and weekends were non-existent to a little girl who had nowhere to go anyway. Still, what was happening to me? It was the same thing in the car and on the trip from California. Everything seemed interminably long, and yet in a flash, here I was starting school in a week.

“Oh sweetie, I know it can be scary starting at a new school, but it’ll be a lot of fun too. You’ll love Twin Falls Collegiate. And it’s the perfect place for a smart girl like you. I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends too.”

I sighed lightly, “Yeah.” My mind flew to the constant bombardment I would face. Recess- surrounded by children and the temptation to join them. I was going to be so bored too, and that seemed worse than fighting the compulsion to play. How could I sit in a first grade classroom and not be bored out of my fucking mind? First graders probably weren’t allowed to bring their phones to class, plus KIDS MODE was just as dangerous as recess.

Kathryn said, “I’ve got something special to show you, Kaylee. I’m sorry you don’t like Frozen, but I’m sure you’ll love this.” Kathryn entered my bedroom and slid open the closet doors. I hadn’t peeked in there, but I saw her brush aside a number of colourful dresses and skirts. The memory of the old lady in the elevator, the one who called me pretty, came to the forefront of my mind, including the memory of how it made me feel. There was very little that I was happy about, especially after being torn away from Greg and Eve, but wearing a dress, having my new wannabe mother do my hair and tell me those all-important words. It would be a buzz, a tingle- a moment of pure joy. It would, however, reinforce that desire, dragging it deeper within me, like a fish nibbling at a hook, until it finally devours it, feeling the metal pierce its flesh as its momentum stopped and it was jerked toward the surface. All for a pretty little worm.

Maybe the Pattersons had an Xbox 360. Not fucking likely. They probably didn’t even have a TV.

Kathryn fished around, giving me a lovely view of her firm yet round bottom clad in a pair of yoga pants, until she removed a small wooden box. It looked like a jewellery box.

Kathryn smiled and held out the box to me. On its surface was a smiling ballerina, hair perfectly coiffed in a tight bun against her head, tutu, tights and soft ballet shoes, all pink and yet slightly faded. There was a small nick on the side where a part of the wood had chipped. “My mommy gave this to me when I was your age, Kaylee. But I want you to have it now. You’re a very smart girl. You know that I’m not your real mom, but I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel like you’re my daughter. I don’t expect you are going to call Thomas and myself ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ right away. Don’t feel like you have to. I mean if you-“

Kathryn cleared her throat gently, “Please take good care of it, sweetie.”

She deposited the box in my hands, and then opened it with a smile. The melody it played was both beautiful and haunting, as I felt an immediate attachment to the object. A tiny ballerina twirled, and I was immediately captivated by her outfit, which was a perfect likeness of the girl’s clothing on the top of the box. Inside, Kathryn had placed various hair accessories and a small collection of earrings, both clip-on and the type that required puncturing the ear.

“I know you don’t have your ears pierced yet, but I’ve been saving these. You can try on the clip-on ones, and we could get them pierced if you like it.” It was too much for me to take. I wanted to take the earrings and the dress and twirl in the mirror. It was maximum girly overload and something I hadn’t had to deal with when living at the apartment.

Thankfully, my stomach grumbled. Kathryn smiled, “Come on, breakfast is ready.”

If there was one thing I didn’t really mind about the whole being a six year old- I never had to cook. Eve and my mom did about 99% of the cooking (except for barbequing which my dad tended to do), often leaving multitudes of leftovers in the fridge, but I was surprised to see Thomas standing over the stove, cooking up some delicious smelling omelets. The moment Thomas slid it onto my plate, I dug into it with gusto.

I was halfway through my breakfast by the time I came up for air. Kathryn and Thomas were staring at me wide-eyed. I watched Kathryn take dainty bites, carefully as if sampling the meal like some kind of food critic. Thomas took bigger bites, but he wasn’t inhaling it like it was his last meal.

I could tell that Kathryn was fighting the urge to correct my eating, but she successfully rebuked it. Thomas said, “I’m guessing you like my omelets.”

I asked, “So do you guys have a computer? I want to check my e-mail.”

Kathryn swallowed a bite awkwardly, forced to take a sip of water to help it down, “Um. E-mail? Who would be sending you e-mail, honey?” Thomas and Kathryn shared worried glances, and I quickly realized my mistake. No one sent six year old girls e-mails, except maybe grandparents. Oh nana loves you, here’s a gif of two hearts hugging each other. I’d forgotten that I only really started using e-mail when I was about eleven or twelve.

I wanted to see if Eve and Greg had gotten back to me, and whether they were going to go along with my warning. Drop the appeal process or face the consequences. It was a little dramatic in places and probably made Eve teary eyed, but the crux of it was give up for your own good. Depending on if Eve and Jessica had made up, easily managing to convince Greg, I might have more work to do. I told them to just let the hospital researchers do their job, and in the meantime, I’d be fine.

I said, “A friend.”

Kathryn pointed to the corner of the kitchen. An ancient desktop computer was perched on a small desk. It had to be about six or seven years old. Who even bought Dell anymore? It didn’t even have a flat screen monitor. No, the clunky CRT monstrosity took up more than half the desk.

Kathryn said, “This is really just for you to do homework assignments, Kaylee. Thomas and I have laptops, but they are university property. You aren’t to touch them.”

Kathryn and Thomas again exchanged worried looks and then both looked down at their phones. Thomas then went over to the computer and switched it on. It hummed to life, the fan whirring and then struggling to push the air, sounding like it was clogged with dust. I sighed heavily, realizing that I didn’t even have a computer in my room.

It booted up, showing the screen for Windows XP, and Thomas opened the browser for me. As I leaned down to start typing, I realized that the Pattersons were watching my screen intently. “Uh. Can I have some privacy?”

Kathryn shook her head, “Kaylee, you’re a little young to be on a computer by yourself without any supervision. You can write a little e-mail to your friend, but that’s it. And it’s going to count as some of your screen time.”

I turned away from the computer and narrowed my eyes at my ‘parents’, “My what?”

Thomas said gently, “Your phone, computer and TV. One hour a day on weekdays and two hours on the weekend. I know this might be a bit hard for you at first, but these are the rules.”

I said, “Fine, then give me my phone. And take that stupid KIDS MODE off so I can check my messages.” My language was being carefully filtered, considering these fuckers would probably take away my phone and ‘screen time’ privileges. If they really pissed me off though, I doubt I’d be able to restrain myself.

Kathryn looked worriedly at Thomas, “Messages? Are these people from Hollywood contacting her? I don’t like this, Thomas. Ms. McDavid said that we should do our absolute best to ensure she has as normal an upbringing as possible. I don’t like the idea that she’s talking to adults, especially in Hollywood. It’s such a nasty business.”

I interjected, although it was hard to ignore the whiney lilt of my voice, “I don’t want to act anymore. These are people important to me. I ne-ed to talk to them.”

Thomas shook his head and removed his glasses, all the while squinting his eyes as if sunlight were blinding him. “I think it’s obvious who they are. The people she was staying with.”

I nodded, “Yeah, OK Sherlock, you got it. So can I have the phone or what?”

Kathryn looked at Thomas sadly. Thomas set his glasses on the kitchen counter and then took his wife’s hand. Thomas then said firmly, “Kaylee, your phone can be part of your screen time. But we aren’t going to remove the password. These are features that little girls don’t need to access. If you want to write those people an e-mail, you can, but only from the kitchen computer under supervision.”

What the fuck was going on? At first, I thought the Pattersons were going to be pushovers, some kind of hippy kids make the rules type parents. Now, they were really starting to piss me off. They were so inconsistent, and it made me feel- uneasy. I didn’t know what to expect.

I could feel myself begin to shake. My shoulders tensed as I replied with a sneer, “Can’t take the fact that I want to talk to them? That they are more important to me than you’ll ever be? Whatever. I’m out of here.”

I stomped across the floor, my little feet causing the contents of a slightly unbalanced china cabinet to rattle. Neither parent followed me, which was the right choice. I decided to explore my new prison, and I came to the rapid realization that compared to any place I’d ever lived- this place was a mansion. Not only that but it would mean stability- a rare stability.

It was only after the war in Iraq and Afghanistan started that I actually had some semblance of stability, my dad was put in active combat overseas, so that meant no more yearly moves. It meant a common roof over our head, even if it was just a shitty townhouse. Things at home got worse with my dad overseas, my mom was a wreck (worst military wife ever) and constantly pissed me off. Then, there was the German private school experiment- it sucked hard, harder than Monique with three shots of tequila in her, bobbling her massive fake tits in my face. After Germany, it was back to the shitty townhouse where I spent the rest of my teenage years.

This house represented stability. The Pattersons would raise me as their daughter, and I would live here with them until Ryan Sullivan was a distant memory. But that meant I would have to be the daughter of a grown-up nerd and junior Feinstein. I was starting to miss my actual mom. Plus all this bullshit about screen time. Fuck they were annoying. Didn’t they understand that I just wanted my way?

I explored the expansive house. It was old, but newly renovated with massive windows that practically bathed every room in sunlight, which wasn’t great for hangovers. Kathryn and Thomas struck me as the type of people who went on wine tours but only sampled the alcohol for its fine body, flavour and texture. They probably ate really snooty sounding cheeses too.

I found an office with double bookcases. On the wall were various diplomas:

Kathryn Patterson- Summa Cum Laude- Masters in English Literature

Thomas Patterson- Magna Cum Laude- Masters in Anthropology

I had only glossed over their application, and once I saw the word Feinstein, there might as well not have been another word written on the page. With the talk of university and classes, I assumed the Pattersons were professors. There would be an unbelievable amount of pressure put on Kaylee Patterson to match those accomplishments. I felt my heartbeat quicken at the thought.

I was still seething over having my phone password protected. There was a real possibility that Eve and Greg stupidly decided to mount their appeal, despite the warning I gave them. I couldn’t exactly login on Ryan Sullivan’s e-mail on the kitchen computer either.

“Kaylee!”

“Kaylee!”

I rolled my eyes as I heard soft slippered feet padding toward me. The floorboards of the old house creaked like Mrs. Feinstein’s knees when she sat up.

Kathryn put her hand on my shoulder, “I know that this is all new to you, Kaylee. But we aren’t trying to be mean to you. We are just trying to set out the rules so you can understand them. I know you miss the people you were staying with. Would you like to tell me about them? And I’m not going to say that the judge’s decision was right or wrong. But we, Thomas and myself, we feel very lucky to have you.”

She added, “You can write an e-mail to them too if you want.”

I shook my head, knowing that it would raise some very difficult questions, especially about the e-mail account I was using.

Kathryn, who was more persistent than I expected, said firmly yet pleasantly, “OK. Well up you go to get dressed then. Ms. McDavid said you love dresses, and there’s some very pretty summer ones I got for you last week. You can play in your room a bit and then we’ll go shopping for school.”

I trudged up the stairs, feeling like my whole body was made of lead. My shoulders sagged toward the floor, pulling my arms down until I was brushing the tips of the stairs. I looked back to see if Kathryn was watching me, but the woman was gone. Without an audience, I stopped dragging my arms like a monkey and climbed the stairs normally.

The staircase was long and winding, a requirement for the high ceilings of my new home. Pictures lined the walls. Graduation pictures, a wedding and what looked like a family reunion, where I spotted Mrs. Feinstein and her granddaughters. My eye stayed fixed to the beautiful gown worn by Kathryn, but instead of noticing how it hugged her curves, I admired the lines, the flow of the satiny material- the pretty pink flowers in her hair. Then, my mind turned to the dresses I knew were waiting for me, and I increased my pace.

The upstairs was equally spacious. There were at least five bedrooms, including a massive bay window that allowed the sun to drape itself over a small beige sofa which was adjacent to another bookcase. Fuck, these people liked to read.

At the foot of the stairs was the Hello Kitty backpack, I had spent most of the morning looking for, immediately next to it, however, was Midnight, who was busy rubbing himself all over it. I made a shooing gesture similar to Kathryn, but the cat, as all cats apparently, wouldn’t fucking listen. After rubbing its stink all over my bag, it proceeded to nuzzle against my leg, the whiskers causing a tinkling giggle as they tickled my soft skin.

Moments later, however, I stomped toward the bag, sending the cat running for the beige sofa, which it used as a launching pad to reach the sill of the bay window. I rummaged through the mostly empty bag and pulled out the small jewellery box. Pressing my dad’s pin into my hand, I re-entered my bedroom, managing to completely ignore the closet.

Still, I had to get dressed, so I went over to the dresser next to the vanity and surveyed the damage. What I saw was a mix of preppy as fuck and Disney. It reminded me of the German prep school I went to, where everyone was dressed like they were going yachting or having high-tea with the fucking Queen of England.

I never had a particularly distinct style as a guy. Growing up my mom bought most of my clothes from Wal-Mart, mostly skater/surfer style with long baggy shorts and tight graphic tees. When I got older, I still tended to go for a similar look but the focus was on accentuating what I had. Tees were replaced with tank tops at the gym to show off my ripped chest and well-defined (but not rippling) biceps.

What was staring back at me in all three drawers was alien. Baby blue, light pink, yellow and, like other shades of pink made up most of the shirts, many of which were collared. Shorts and skirts in stripes and floral patterns. These were the clothes you wore to class picture day. While the clothing was relatively plain, it was distinctly feminine. For instance, the polo shirts actually flared into dresses with pleated skirts. Some of the skirts were even slightly ruffled. My shoes ranged from ballet flats (again with either solid colours or floral prints, flip flops, a pair of pink and white Nike running shoes and a collection of sandals, ones with a small wedged heels and slim ankle straps.

As I dug through the drawers, I found many smiling Disney princesses, however, I felt practically magnetized as my hands firmly gripped a graphic t-shirt, which I quickly realized was actually attached to a skirt. The short t-shirt dress featured a smiling, confident and beautiful Elsa conjuring a glimmering shard of ice in her hand.

Fuck, I really wanted to wear it with that those strappy wedge sandal things. In fact, I wanted to put on a veritable fashion show in the waiting embrace of the vanity’s mirror. Firmly digging my dad’s pin into my hand, I focused on both the pain and who I actually was and gradually, the desire faded.

Despite my small victory, I still needed to get dressed.

In the three drawers, I couldn’t find even one pair of jeans. Maybe they were hanging in the closet, but I wasn’t sure, and I knew that frilly floral temptation lay beyond the thin wooden doors. Thankfully, I managed to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt similar to those Eve had bought me. The shorts were white with grey stripes. They fit snugly, reaching just above my knee. It was difficult to find any t-shirts that weren’t sleeveless, ruffled or flared out into dresses, so I opted for a navy blue polo, the only distinctly feminine feature being a small pink heart over my left breast. For my discriminating taste, a pair of light blue flip flops were the least offensive to my masculine sensibilities. I still felt like I was going on a fucking boat.

“Kaylee! It’s time to go, sweetie.”

In walked my adoptive mother, and I looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She was undeniably out of Thomas’ league, in fact, they weren’t even playing the same game in the same stratosphere. She glided into the room, balanced atop slight wedge heels, the straps neatly pressed against slim ankles. A floral patterned dress flowed downward, highlighting her curves but not in an extreme or trashy manner. It cinched at her slim waist travelling up to her tits, but my eyes didn’t linger there. No, I took in the entire outfit, from the pearls around her neck to the bracelets gently jangling around slender wrists.

I stared at Kathryn’s outfit the same way that I had a massive pair of tits in a bikini or a tight ass with a little jiggle- with my eyes bugging out, my mouth slightly open, but it wasn’t lust- it was fascination and longing.

The woman’s face was tastefully made up, kind of how you see people on TV, not a blemish or wrinkle showing. Her full lips were painted with a light pink lipstick. Her blonde hair, meanwhile, swooped down, gently tickling her shoulders as it curved slightly in front of her neck. In her hands was a sun hat and a slung across her shoulder an expensive looking tote bag (if that were even possible.) I was really starting to think we were going on a boat.

“Did you look in your closet too, honey? There’s pretty dresses in there like mine.”

Pretty like Mommy’s.

I took a deep breath. Was my staring that obvious? What was wrong with me?

My legs wouldn’t budge, and my brain felt scrambled, like my internal wires were crossed. Without saying a word, Kathryn began to gently run a brush through my hair. The action caused me to relax. My hair was longer now, tumbling down over my shoulders. I still couldn’t bring myself to cut it. Kathryn parted my hair and then pulled my bangs back, using a headband to keep the hair out of my eyes.

Kathryn scooted me in front of the vanity mirror, and my eyes widened as I saw the outfit as a whole. The headband had a large red bow on top, dotted with white polka dots. A little smile crept onto my face as I saw the pretty little girl staring back at me, looking every inch the Pattersons’ new daughter, but I felt a tinge of regret. Not fear, not disgust. I regretted not looking in the closet. I could have been pretty like Mommy.

Still in somewhat of a daze, Kathryn took my hand and led me down the stairs toward the car. My stupor was broken as I saw something that I had always made fun of- sticker families. On the rear window of what was probably a one-hundred thousand dollar car were three stickers: one male and two female, one much smaller than the other. The male stick figure was gardening, building sandcastles? He had a small shovel and a bucket. I didn’t see anything beyond a few potted plants outside, so apparently Thomas sucked at gardening. The taller female looked like the ballerina in the jewellery box Kathryn gave me, doing some kind of pirouette bullshit.

And the smallest female? She was dressed like a princess- puffy gown, weird triangle hat, wand and smiling face.

Was that thing really supposed to represent me?

The Pattersons didn’t have a fucking clue who I was.

I decided to play along with the car seat, since I couldn’t afford to lose my screen time privileges. I had to check if there was a message from Eve, Greg or Jessica. I wasn’t sure how to check if the appeal was dropped, and I assumed that it wouldn’t get much press. After strapping me in, Kathryn backed carefully out of the driveway, giving me my first full view of my new house.

It was massive. From the inside, it was impressively large, but now- I could see that it was a veritable mansion compared to the places I had lived before. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, other than it looked like the kind of house you would see on a Nick at Nick sitcom from the 90s. The porch stretched from the front door all the way to a screen door at the side of the house. It was three stories with an arched roof and a portion that even looked like a castle turret. The Pattersons lived on a lane, so there weren’t many houses. Across from us, I could see a farm house and a barn with row upon row of corn stalks.

As we drove into town, I quickly realized that Twin Falls was small as fuck. The main road was actually called Main Street. This wasn’t exactly going to be LA. The town was surrounded by hills, which gave it a claustrophobic feel. I hadn’t been in many towns like it, but it looked well-maintained with a distinct lack of pot holes (unless the BMW SUV really drove THAT smoothly). The buildings on the main stretch were brick, many of them advertising things that Wal-Mart, Costco or some other big box store could do for cheaper.

Old-timey lamp posts lined the sidewalks, the bulbs topped with little crystalline crowns. It was a mix of new and old, butcher shops and bakeries mingling with cellphone accessory and electronic stores. In the distance, I spotted what was likely the town’s only church, the steeple stretching, but failing to reach the apex of the hills.

A brownstone post office with a massive flapping American flag stood next to McDaniels Grocer. It was incredible actually seeing a post office that wasn’t in a pharmacy or part of some strip mall. Kathryn pulled the SUV into the parking lot. She hadn’t said much in the car, other than pointing out what was right in front of me. Had she forgotten I could read?

“After we do some shopping, I’ll bring you to the lake, and you can see why the town is called Twin Falls. It’s so pretty, Kaylee. I’m sure you’ll love it. I brought your phone too if you want to take some pictures.”

***

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”

I wanted to hit my head against the side of the shopping cart. Kathryn had to be the most annoying shopper in the world. She checked the ingredients and nutritional information like she was some kind of starving supermodel, and then she would murmur something, check her phone and then put the item back. I stood next to the shopping cart becoming increasingly bored.

“Oh! Is this your little girl, Kathryn? She’s adorable. And she looks just like you!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kline, yes this is Kaylee.”

“She’s gorgeous! Such a pretty little girl. Are you going to put her in any pageants?”

Kathryn shook her head, and then seemed to reconsider. She pursed her lips gently and replied, “Well, if she wants to. But I’m not going to push her into anything.”

Mrs. Kline, who was a stout woman in her fifties, said, “Oh it would be a shame if you didn’t. She’s really perfect for them. You just talk to me, and I’ll get her registered in time for the fall pageant.”

I had admit that each time Mrs. Kline spewed a compliment, I felt a little tingle in my brain. The tingle, like a small burst of electricity, told me that if I continued to dress this way, I would continue to receive kind words, and as I looked at Kathryn in her dress, I thought maybe I would have received a lot more if I had explored my closet.

We turned down the cereal aisle, and I swear the whole store had stopped to talk to Kathryn. Fucking small down bullshit. Not all the people heaped compliments on me like Mrs. Kline, but they smiled introduced themselves and were gone.

“She’s so darling with that bow. I could never get my daughter to wear that when she was Kaylee’s age.”

“What a cutie! Love the outfit!”

“You’re so lucky, Kathryn, she’s beautiful!”

It didn’t help that we had apparently entered McDaniels Grocer on middle-aged woman shop for ½ off day. I looked over at Kathryn, and she looked visibly annoyed, trying her best to maintain her smile with each fresh round of compliments. I was eating them up the same way Ashley had devoured her first peanut butter and jam sandwich, but Kathryn was clearly upset.

Kathryn continued her shopping, pushing the cart toward a long shelf of cereal boxes, some of which had bright colours and smiling cartoon characters. Birds, dogs, monkeys, and- elephants, pink elephants. They all attempted to get me to demand that Kathryn purchase them. Kathryn asked, “What would you like for breakfast, honey?”

I pointed to a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, but instead of simply dumping them into the cart, Kathryn slid the box off the shelf and turned it sideways. “Maybe something else would be better.”

I sighed lightly and pointed to Captain Crunch cereal. No marshmallows, no toy inside. It seemed a safe bet, and it wasn’t a cartoon elephant that turned the milk pink. Greg ate both cereals, and he was a grown man. Kind of. Again, Kathryn picked the box off the shelf and checked the ingredients. She slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe how much sugar is in these.”

Finally, I pointed to Honeycomb. No cartoon animals or bees, tasted mostly like cardboard if I remembered correctly, but again she placed the box back on the shelf with a slight shake of her head. “Sorry, Kaylee. These aren’t good for you. Hmm, this might be better.” She took a box of corn flakes and tossed them in the cart.

I grit my teeth, practically hissing the words through the slight gap in my teeth, “What was the point in asking me if you were just going to do that?”

Kathryn said, “Sorry, sweetie. It’s just that too much sugar isn’t good for you. You can put some nice raspberries on your cereal and it’ll be delicious.”

I was about to open my mouth, when I looked back at the shelf of cereals. Each and every cereal I wanted had a little mascot on it or it was in a colourful box. Considering I usually had black coffee for breakfast, was it really such a big deal that I couldn’t have cereal that was clearly being marketed for kids, and Greg? Kathryn had actually done me a favour, stamping out the temptation.

I nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I stood patiently next to the cart, waiting for Kathryn to move on to the next aisle. The woman looked down at me with a surprised smile and then pushed the cart into the dairy section. Soon enough, we were entering the check-out line and the impulse or last-minute shopping section. It was the kind of place where I picked up batteries for controllers or cheap earbuds I didn’t care about breaking or losing. Archie Comics Digest #99888 and celebrities crying over broken marriages and or being left pregnant at the altar shared the space. Each check-out counter had a magazine rack, utilities rack, but something else too.

“I want that.”

“Kaylee, that’s not how you ask for something. Here, why don’t you help me put the groceries on here?”

Directly at my eye level stood the candy rack, but more importantly, a Frozen Chocobuster Bar. I didn’t care that I wasn’t really fond of nougat or peanut butter in a chocolate bar. No, I needed to have that chocolate bar with the Frozen characters colourfully displayed on it more than blood to my brain and heart or air in my lungs. I snatched it and put it on the slow moving conveyer belt that inched the groceries toward the waiting cashier.

Kathryn said sharply, “Kaylee, I didn’t say you could have this.”

“But I want it.”

“I thought you didn’t even like Frozen?”

“Okay, maybe I lied. It’s my favourite. I want it.”

Kathryn sighed and then looked at the impatient cashier, and then at the growing lineup of people behind her.

“I want it now.”

Kathryn smiled apologetically at the cashier, a young girl who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but here. “Sorry, Alexis. Just give me a second please.”

I couldn’t understand why I wanted the chocolate bar, but the Frozen characters on the front were practically singing to me. Elsa in her wonderful operatic, even Sven the Reindeer in a rumbling baritone, braying the words: BUY ME! BUY ME! BUY ME!

Something was happening to me. It crept from my toes into my brain and removed all logical thought. I wasn’t struck with simply tunnel vision, a car speeding toward an end goal, ignoring the world around it for a singular purpose. No, I saw in my hands the chocolate bar. The immediate aftermath. There was no getting there- no linear process. It simply was.

Because I wanted it.

Kathryn said, “Honey, I know you want it, but I don’t like how you are asking for it. If you’d asked me nicely, politely I would have thought about it. But you don’t ask for things that way.”

Seriously? What the fuck was with all the talking? It wasn’t getting me the chocolate bar any sooner. While this went on, I kept pushing my dad’s pin into my hand, but nothing happened.

Kathryn added, “So, no- you can’t have it, Kaylee. Put it back.” The middle-aged women and other shoppers approved, some with a gentle nodding of their heads. To them, the situation was diffused, but I still didn’t have my chocolate bar.

When I heard the word ‘no’, a switch went off in my brain, and what little control I had left was swept away in an instant. The pin was forgotten like it never existed.

A shriek escaped from my mouth and down went my sandaled foot with a firm stomp, “I-want-it-now!!!” I could no longer even think or plan my next move. Having been denied my prize, I became the bane of every grocery shopping parent, a child throwing a tantrum.

Kathryn stood her ground with another firm ‘no’, but she might as well have been trying to trap a tornado in a glass bottle. The ferocious winds and uncontrollable pressure would pop the top, leaving the funnel to scoop up additional victims, and with another ear-piercing shriek the natural disaster of a tantrum was loosed again.

Alexis said, “Mrs. Patterson, can I just ring you through? Just buy the kid the candy. My ears are bleeding.”

A middle-aged woman with steel grey hair said, “She’ll never learn that way. Tough love is the only way to go.”

Kathryn looked down at me pleadingly, “Kaylee, please you’re embarrassing me. W-We can make chocolate chip cookies when we get home.”

Even this attempt at placation failed, because I lacked any ability to understand or even hear reason.

The entire adult part of brain was seemingly gone, but I didn’t care.

I just wanted the chocolate bar.

Designer Children Chapter 26 by OneShot20XX (oneshot20XX@gmail.com)

Kathryn looked momentarily defeated, and then she pulled out her credit card, grabbed me by the wrist while saying, “Ring me through please, Alexis. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Moments later, I was being dragged through the parking lot.

The car door swung open and Kathryn put me in the backseat. She slid into the driver’s seat, while the child locks on either side of me clicked shut. Like a snake, Kathryn’s head slithered into my view, the rest of her body either attached to some terrible monster or simply hidden by her seat.

Despite the fact that she was no longer touching me, I could feel her anger. The hotness of her temper had easily extinguished my tantrum, and now I stood staring at her with fear, both because of my behaviour and how deeply I had sunk into Kaylee, but also because she was fucking scary. She was so much bigger than I was.

Her nostrils flared as she spoke, her voice rising until it became a yell. “Don’t you- ever- -ever- do that again, young lady! Do I make myself clear? When I say no, I mean it. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? How everyone will talk now, especially Janet Plinkett?!”

Gradually, the yelling stopped, but still Kathryn’s voice was practically a serpentine hiss, “You may have gotten your way like that in Hollywood. You can’t act like a little hellion and expect-“

Her own words stopped her dead, but I was still quivering. She sighed deeply, and I heard the locks on either side of me click open. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

I was about to ask her if I could have the chocolate bar again, but I thought it might not be the best idea, so I allowed her to guide me back to the store, where our groceries were bagged and waiting for us.

The car ride home was silent. I was left with only my thoughts, and the realization that I had thrown a fit over a chocolate bar. This wasn’t anger over being betrayed, as Mrs. Feinstein had done, nor was it rage at being strapped into a baby seat for the first time, something that played havoc with what remained of my adult and male self. It wasn’t something that impacted my core, my very being.

It was a fucking chocolate bar.

This fact scared the hell out of me.

Soon enough, we were back at the Pattersons. Kathryn unloaded the car, while I remained trapped in my harness. After what seemed like forever, she returned and undid the harness. Her expression showed conflict- her jaw moved from side to side gently, seemingly mulling what to say.

“Kaylee, you’ve lost your screen time for today.” Her words were said firmly without a hint of softness. “I’m sorry again for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that. Now come inside and help me put the groceries away.”

I trudged into the house and entered the spacious kitchen. It housed both a preparation area and fridge and a small table, which we had used for breakfast that morning. In the corner, I could see a drawing area with kid-sized chairs, markers, crayons and a stack of colouring books.

Kathryn said, “You can wash the vegetables and fruit, sweetie.” I had never helped Eve or Greg do anything cooking related, and it was even a stretch at times to just get me to bring my plate to the sink. Because of that, they never asked for help, but what should have been a no brainer, a fuck you, why should I help you after you punished me, actually seemed to lift my spirits.

Kathryn pulled a stool in front of the sink and filled it with cold water. I was shocked to find that helping actually made me feel better- like a big…like an adult, and even more shocked when I realized it was kind of fun. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me? My behaviour made no sense.

Thomas, who had been mowing the lawn, entered from the side door, a thin white t-shirt revealing nothing but his scrawny lanky frame. “Kaylee, looks like you got a package.”

I didn’t need to even look at the name to know that it was Mrs. Feinstein’s writing. The perfectly shaped letters that would have made a calligrapher jealous spelled out my new name, which struck my brain like a hammer through drywall, easily driving home the new reality:

To: Ms. Kaylee Patterson

2 Traveller’s Lane

Twin Falls, Minnesota

It was sent priority post. Thomas opened the package with a pair of scissors and then handed it to me. Despite it being a brand new box, the contents smelled musty, the odour filled my mind with the memory of Mrs. Feinstein’s duvet. Carefully wrapped within double plastic bags were three books: The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Return of Sherlock Holmes.

Inside was a handwritten note which read:

Kaylee, I want you to have these. You are a remarkable young girl. I hope that these texts will help to nurture your gift. Please read them with your new parents, so they can enjoy the experience as much as I have. Be good dear child, and if you are, perhaps I’ll bring you more when I see at Christmas.

Love Grannie

Her betrayal still fresh in my mind, I was hard pressed to be pleased with her gift, but with the constant temptation of toys and my imagination, which threatened to completely break free, I was actually pleased for the distraction. After a quick lunch, which I devoured, I made my way upstairs and positioned myself on the beige sofa.

My reading had slowed, forcing me to sound out each syllable in my mind, but at least I could still make sense of the words.

“Has she really been sitting there reading all afternoon?”

“Agatha wasn’t kidding. Should we get her tested? Those books are very advanced for her.”

“Twin Falls Collegiate has a gifted program, but the testing occurs over the summer. It’s probably too late now. But if she’s really as smart as Agatha makes her out to be, they’ll probably switch her within a week or two.”

I drifted back to my book as their conversation again turned to college programs and ivy-league schools. I felt a tingle of anxiety, knowing that I would never meet the expectations of Kathryn and Thomas as I had barely passed high school the first time. I was probably as smart as the average 7th grader, and it wouldn’t take long for them to figure it out. This pressure pushed down on my head like a slowly moving vice.

Later, while Kathryn prepared dinner, I worked on my letters, managing to avoid opening any of the colouring books. We sat down for a pretty good spaghetti meal, but something was lacking. It just wasn’t as good as Eve’s cooking. Maybe it was the fact that the noodles were these weird buckwheat thin brown things, but it just didn’t- well it didn’t taste like home.

The more I thought about my friends, who were likely mounting some kind of media campaign while I slurped spaghetti noodles, the more I realized I needed to contact them. Fuck no screen-time.

Kathryn said gently, “Honey, don’t do that. Here, would you like me to cut those for you?” The woman reached over to try and grasp my knife, but I blocked her. The Pattersons definitely ate differently than Eve and Greg. Eve tended to shovel her food, and Greg was a lip smacker, especially when he had one of Eve’s many delicious sauces to taste. Kathryn and Thomas wore napkins on their laps. They didn’t talk with their mouths full of food (another of Eve’s habits), and their bites never required more than a few chews to swallow (I was particularly guilty of this).

Kathryn carefully controlled the amount of food on her fork and how it was arranged on her plate. The spaghetti was cut neatly with enough sauce to avoid drenching the noodles, but not too little to actually taste the buckwheat. She carefully used her knife to push the food onto her fork. Fuck, even her meatballs were cut uniformly. Thomas was less organized and slightly messier, but he still made Greg and Eve (and me) look like an all-you-can-eat rib contest winner.

Kathryn frowned, “Kaylee, elbows off the table, honey.”

I glared at Kathryn, “What’d you go to Feinstein finishing school for rich bitches or something? Why does it matter how I eat?”

It was Thomas’ turn to frown, “Kaylee, watch your language.”

Kathryn nodded her head, “Yes, I went to Prescott Academy. And I’m starting to think maybe you should spend a semester there, young lady.”

Thomas scraped his knife across his plate, creating an awful screeching sound. “And I went to Twin Falls Collegiate. I think you’ll really enjoy it, Kaylee. A smart girl like you will be challenged. I promise you won’t be bored.”

Kathryn’s expression softened, “Speaking of which,” she pushed a piece of paper toward me, “you’ll be in after school care. There are some really fun activities.”

I would probably have to staple my pin to my chest to get through a week of ‘fun’. A quick glance at the sheet, and I knew my choice. “Karate.”

Thomas looked at me in disbelief and then at Kathryn, “Incredible. She decodes words like she is in middle school. Remember Emma when she was learning to read? She had to sound everything out aloud. And she had so much trouble with her vowels.” Thomas looked absolutely giddy at the prospect of another genius in the family. By middle school, however, I would probably be pulling in straight C minuses.

Kathryn was, however, less pleased, “Karate? Are you sure that’s what you want to take? What about this?” Kathryn’s well-manicured finger pointed to Beginner Ballet/Contemporary Dance.

I made a face and followed this with a sound that usually precedes vomiting. “No way. Is this my choice or what? Why did you even ask me? This is just like the cereal earlier today. Seriously, you guys need to stop mixing your parenting books. If it’s my fucking choice then it’s my fucking choice. I want to take karate.”

Thomas raised a brow, “Did- Did she just use sarcasm? Does she even know what that is?”

Kathryn said firmly, “OK, Kaylee. That’s enough. Do you know what that word means?”

I nodded as a small smile appeared on my face, “Yup. Did you want me to define it?”

Thomas sighed deeply, “Are we raising a sixteen year old or a six-year old girl? I was never like that. And I know you weren’t. Your mom and your aunt never would have allowed you to get away with that.”

Kathryn turned to Thomas, “Agatha said she was too smart for her own good. It looks like she wasn’t exaggerating.” She then turned her undivided attention on me, “As long as you continue using that language, you will have no screen-time privileges. That means no phone, no computer and no television. You are going to learn that we do not use that word in this family.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “So is this my choice or what? I told you that I want to take karate.”

Thomas scratched his head and then gently removed his glasses, “W-Well it’s just that, we’re a little concerned that you have some violent tendencies because of those games you were playing.”

I was growing less impressed by the second, “So what you are saying is that I can’t take karate because you are worried I am going to beat someone up. Well why can’t I just take it and then if you see that it’s bad for me, well you just put me in something else?”

Thomas said while replacing his glasses, “That’s very- ahem- reasonable, Kaylee.”

Kathryn frowned, “We talked about this, Thomas.”

Thomas nodded, “We did, but we also talked about you- us not pushing her into dance either. Let’s compromise. For this semester, Kaylee can take gymnastics, since it is offered at the same time. Then next semester, if she hasn’t broken our noses, we can talk about karate.”

Kathryn shook her head, “How is that a compromise? She won’t know if she likes dance if she doesn’t try it.”

Thomas replied with a smile, “Well there’s always PD days. And Christmas and March break. We can put her in a four-day program over Christmas, and if she really likes it, then we consider switching her second semester.”

I pushed myself away from the small dining table, “I’m done.”

Kathryn said, “Rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”

I said, “Do I have a choice about that? Do you want to pick my clothes? Maybe you could decide when I go to the bathroom? Fuck you.”

My wannabe parents stared at me in astonishment to a point where manners were forgotten. Kathryn had opened her mouth so wide, that a half-eaten bite tumbled from her mouth and back onto her plate. There was only stunned silence as I left the room. No one moved to stop me, and my plate was left untouched.

***

I walked upstairs victorious. The fear I had felt earlier while Kathryn berated me was a distant memory. I was impenetrable steel. Mrs. Feinstein would have washed the sass out of my mouth with Ivory Snow, but the Pattersons couldn’t decide if they were disciplinarians or pushovers. Kathryn was a Feinstein, but she also seemed conflicted in embracing that fact. And this was something that I could exploit.

I returned to the beige sofa and picked up my book. Downstairs, I could hear Kathryn and Thomas talking, but it was impossible to make out what they were saying. Their voices were muffled, which likely meant they had closed the kitchen door. What more could they do to me? I didn’t care about toys, and they weren’t going to take books away from me. They didn’t seem the type to spank either. If I had spoken that way to my dad, I would have woken up a few minutes later and been very apologetic. Thomas could barely form a sentence without bumbling, while Kathryn- she liked to scream, but I could take it. The fear I felt before was just an anomaly.

Eventually, I heard footsteps on the stairs. “Kaylee! Kaylee, honey, it’s time to get ready for bed!” The pushovers had returned. I decided not to budge. The stairs creaked as Kathryn approached. I braced for a screaming tirade, but it never came.

I kept my nose in the book, attempting to completely ignore her. “I know you love that book, Kaylee, but it’s very important for you to get enough sleep.” She peeked her head over the book and then gently pulled it away from me, “It’ll still be here tomorrow. And the way you are speeding through it, well I think we’ll have to get you a library card, how does that sound? Twin Falls might be a small town, but it has a huge library.”

Seriously. Why wasn’t she yelling? The inconsistency was startling, especially since I seemed to have escaped any punishment from my behaviour during dinner.

“Now, off to pick your pajamas.”

OK, well no yelling meant I could pretty much ignore her, which is exactly what I did. Moments later, I was once again absorbing the writings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I read for a few minutes before I heard Kathryn’s voice again. “Do you know why it’s so important for you to get enough sleep, Kaylee?”

I lowered the book and sighed, “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

Kathryn’s pleasant yet firm expression didn’t change, “If you don’t sleep enough, you won’t grow. You don’t want to be the same size forever, do you?”

Wait, that couldn’t be right…was it? There was such sincerity in the woman’s face and in her delivery that I at least partially believed her. Still, it was silly to think that I would always be this size. As if an hour or two extra sleep would really make a difference. My mind was, however, conflicted. For some reason, I was understanding Kathryn at a very literal level.

She continued, “It’s like this, Kaylee. Think of yourself as a seed, and the sleep you get is the water and sun that it takes to make you grow into a beautiful flower. Well if you don’t sleep, like that flower, you’ll never grow.”

My eyes were suddenly big, and my throat swallowed a sudden lump, “R-Really?” My imagination took flight, images of myself, a grown-up Kaylee, a true ‘shorty’, and still forced to sit in the five-point harness car seat.

Kathryn’s genuine expression never changed. “Really. Now, time for pajamas, sweetie.”

I still wasn’t sure if Kathryn was telling the truth, but could I really risk it? If I was stuck like this, did I want to be this height forever? A part of me thought the whole thing was ridiculous, like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, but another was gripped with this childish fear that believed Kathryn’s warning.

So, I entered my room at a quickened pace. As I riffled through the drawers attempting to choose my pajamas, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Was I being overly dramatic? Compared to my choices for day wear, which had me dressing like an effeminate sailor, the pajamas were far, far worse. Everything was so fucking girly. Yellow, purple, and so much fucking pink.

The colours were the least embarrassing part. The pajamas looked like something a zealous grandmother might buy and then swoon over before planting a million wet kisses on a hapless child’s face. Sure, there were the “Mommy’s Girl” and “Daddy’s Little Sweetheart” sets and a large collection of Disney Princess nighties, but then there was also “Goodnight Sweet Honey Bunny” with a cartoon rabbit blowing kisses at the moon. Oh and then there was the one with a little miniature tutu that said “Future Ballerina”. Bet I knew who bought that one.

The least offensive one I could find simply said “TOO CUTE” with a purple heart surrounding it. To most, it might not have been a big deal, but the clothing cemented my identity to the outside world. I always felt closer to a role once we entered the first dress rehearsal. The clothing matched the character, and in this case, the clothing was Kaylee’s.

There was a knock on the door, and then Kathryn entered. I had only pulled the shirt over my head, and this, however, left my butt clad in a pair of pink heart panties fully visible (the panties were as bad as the fucking pajamas!). I felt my cheeks redden, but my embarrassment was washed away once Kathryn put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing a good job, Kaylee. Keep it up, and you’ll get your screen-time back tomorrow.”

Kathryn wasn’t Eve or Greg or even Jessica. She didn’t know who I actually was, so how I was dressed was perfectly normal to her. I was surprised too how her words, the simple ‘good job’ caused a spot behind my head to pleasantly tingle. If Greg had caught me dressed like this, I would have probably had to remove his eyeballs, but it felt different with Kathryn.

Almost normal.

I slipped on the pajama bottoms, which I realized were kind of like capris. Kathryn then led me to the bathroom where an Elsa-shaped toothbrush was waiting for me, already slathered with a pink paste that smelled like bubble gum.

“Open up, sweetie.”

I shook my head and then reached my hand out for the brush, “I can do it myself.”

Kathryn, looking momentarily surprised, gave me the brush, “Oh. Okay. Well when you’re done, we can read a story and then your d- Thomas and I will tuck you in, sound good?”

Again, I shook my head, “I don’t really want a story, since I kind of read all day. And I definitely don’t need to be tucked in.”

Instead of surprise, Kathryn simply looked disappointed. I shrugged my shoulders and started brushing my teeth. The brush buzzed while vibrating across my teeth. I had a little trouble controlling it, especially keeping it straight, and eventually I got annoyed and just turned it off.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and then moments later, Thomas peeked his head in the bathroom, “How’s it going in here?”

Kathryn sighed, “Oh. Fine.”

I spit in the sink and returned to my room. My wannabe parents, however, despite being told otherwise decided to follow me, continuing their conversation.

Kathryn said, “I just thought we’d get those cute little girl years. Where we can read her stories, tuck her in. You know little girl things. I still remember my mom singing these beautiful lullabies and brushing my hair, then tucking me in at night. But she’s so independent, she’s not interested in any of it.”

Thomas replied, “Well so she has an independent streak. I’d say that’s a good thing. And it’s only been a day, Kat. It’s probably the time she spent in Hollywood too. We’ll settle into a routine, and I’m sure she’ll come around.”

I clambered up into my four poster bed, slid underneath the Frozen sheets, dumped the stuffed animals and lay my head down on the Elsa pillow. Thomas leaned over and flicked off the lamp on the night stand, while Kathryn bent down and turned on (surprise, surprise) an Elsa nightlight.

“I don’t need that either.”

Despite Kathryn’s earlier disappointment, she turned off the nightlight without any further whining to Thomas.

Thomas said with a smile, “You be careful and not grow up overnight.”

Kathryn said gently, “Goodnight, Kaylee. We love you.” The woman approached the bed, but hesitated, ultimately choosing to stand longingly at my bedside. Fuck, were they going to blow me a kiss?

I murmured, “OK. Goodnight.”

I didn’t love them, and I was shocked they had such feelings for me after only two days, especially considering those days hadn’t been easy either. Despite my brain’s insistence at running a play-by-play of the entire day, I fell asleep relatively easily.

***

If there was one thing that I could depend on, it was my tiny bladder forcing me awake, especially when I had even a small glass of water before bed. However, it was strategic. After quickly relieving myself, I returned to the door in front of my bedroom. I listened carefully for any foot traffic downstairs, any voices. The house was pitch black, and my imagination quickly filled the darkness, but after a few deep breaths, I was ready to continue.

I closed my bedroom door, hoping that if the Pattersons were still awake, they would think I had returned to my room. In slippered feet, I slowly crept down the stairs, my tiny body devoured by more and more of the darkness with each step.

I’m not scared of the dark.

I’m not scared of the dark.

Or what’s in the dark.

My heart thumped with each step, fear crawling along the edge of my mind, like rats gnawing on drywall, a slow yet steady progression that would send me running back to my room. What I had to do was too important to be scared, and this is what kept me going.

I was thankful when I reached the landing that the massive bay windows allowed a clear moonlit sky to illuminate the downstairs area. Someone had forgotten to close the curtains, and this allowed me to quicken my pace. I reached the office with the two laptops and hovered my hand over the mousepad, bringing the password screen to light and bathing the room in a pale blue glow.

I did the same to the other and was met with the same password screen. My face broke into a grin, however, when I saw a sticky note neatly taped to the desk. Considering Kathryn and Thomas likely trusted each other, there was no need for a complex security system- like say not having the password taped to the desk.

Without the built-in muscle memory, my typing skills were subpar. They actually sucked hardcore. I slowly but surely entered the password as Midnight and was greeted with Kathryn’s desktop, which was actually a picture of me sleeping in my car seat. Creepy.

I quickly loaded up a browser and logged into my e-mail. Unsurprisingly, I had an e-mail from Eve. It read:

Ryan:

Do you seriously think that we’re just going to let you go like that? They’ve threatened stuff before, but I think they are bluffing this time. They can’t just make us disappear. With you, well your dad had passed away and you barely talked to your mom. Ashley too. Her mom died, and she didn’t have any close relatives. My freaking mom calls me practically every day, twice when she heard we were going to adopt you.

She probably knows when I go to the bathroom.

Anyway, we aren’t going to drop the appeal. We’ve got two different lawyers working on it for free. It’s not getting any media coverage, but big surprise when massive corporations own newspapers and TV stations. It’s the same old bullshit we were dealing with when we went to the media the first time.

I know that things might seem lost right now, but we’re going to bring you home. The researchers cracked another part of Travers’ code. We could be close to a breakthrough.

We are moving into the townhouse in a few weeks. You’ll love your room. We’ll have it all ready for you when we bring you home.

Love,

Eve

Fucking idiots. They were playing with fire. I had sacrificed myself for them just so they could join me.

I stared at the screen, and at the cursor which blinked and blinked and blinked at a maddening pace. Until, finally, my fingers stabbed at the keyboard:

Guys get me the fuck out of here I hate it here

losing myself every second I stay

help me please

My finger went immediately to the backspace key, but it never reached it.

“Kaylee! What are you doing out of bed?”

I froze at the sound of Kathryn’s voice, fear welling in preparation for the screaming that would take place. On the laptop screen, my reply to Eve was visible for all to see.

“Young lady, we told you specifically that our computers were off limits! On top of that, you already lost your screen time and it is way, way past your bedtime!”

Kathryn’s voice in my ears was projected with the power of a megaphone. As I had with Mrs. Feinstein, I found myself quivering in Kathryn’s presence. While I sat perched on the computer chair, my legs dangling and eyes downcast, Kathryn continued her tirade.

“It is dangerous for you to be out here! You could have hurt yourself in the dark, fallen down the stairs! You can’t do things like this. It’s just-“

I looked up for a moment, and I could see Kathryn absolutely transfixed with the screen of the laptop. Battling my cowardice, which was easier after the reprieve from the yelling, I managed to rapidly close the browser that had my reply to Eve’s e-mail.

The anger drained out of Kathryn’s face, and her posture took on the appearance of a wizened hag, her back bent forward, leaning uncomfortably, still staring at the screen. Considering her saddened expression, and the fact she wasn’t asking me who Ryan was, I assumed that she didn’t see Eve’s original e-mail.

Moments later, Thomas peeked his head in the room, “Sorry, Kat, I guess you were right.” The man shook his head and peered at me disappointedly, “You know you aren’t supposed to be in here, Kaylee. These are our work computers. Now, get back up to bed immediately.” He fiercely pointed toward the stairs, and I ran up the stairs as fast as my little legs would take me.

Light guided my path back to my room, and soon enough, I was back underneath the warm embrace of my covers. Away from the difficult decisions and Kathryn’s unmistakeably sad face.

Her face was the only thing I saw until sleep mercifully took me.

***

“Here, boy. Come here, boy.”

“Kaylee, we don’t know that dog. It m-might bite you. Get away from it.” Kathryn’s hand went out and firmly gripped my arm, but the little miniature pinscher tied to the post outside the library continued to approach. They looked like Doberman pinschers but in a pint-sized package.

Despite the conflict and the incident last night, the Pattersons had seemingly wiped my slate clean again. There was no mention of getting my screen-time privileges back, but nothing that said I was still banned either. At breakfast, Thomas repeated the rules, telling me that I had to stay in my bed, and that I wasn’t allowed in the office under any circumstances. Still, I couldn’t figure them out, Kathryn would yell, and now she was taking me to the library? Did she feel bad about yelling? And if that was the case, why wasn’t she actually bringing me for ice cream? There was no mention about last night, or what Kathryn had read on the screen either.

I turned to Kathryn, “Really? I’m surprised you don’t know every single dog in this whole town with how small it is. Look, I just know that he’s fine. Dogs that bite- there’s signs. This little guy is just thirsty.”

Kathryn, who would not relinquish her grip on my arm, said, “We should wait for the owner at least. You shouldn’t be touching someone else’s dog without their permission. And it could still bite you.”

I rolled my eyes, “Are you ever going to cut it with this safety monitor bullshit? I told you that I know dogs, and this dog isn’t going to bite. Well he might bite you because you’re making him fucking nervous.”

Kathryn shrieked and looked around, “Language!”

I said sheepishly, while the little dog began licking my hand. “Sorry. But no one heard. Especially not Janet Plinkett? What’s your beef with her anyway?”

Kathryn sighed, “It’s not really polite for children to discuss adults like that.”

I shook my head, “Says who? Agatha? You do know she’s about a hundred years old, right?”

By this point, Kathryn was more worried about playing Ms. Manners than the fact that I was letting the dog drink out of my water bottle. The min pin snaked his long tongue within the confines of the plastic bottle and began lapping water greedily. However, once she saw this, she quickly pulled me away.

Kathryn said firmly, “That’s disgusting. You can’t drink out of that now. And as to your comment about your grandmother, she and my mother were award-winning teachers. Ahead of their time in terms of educating young women. She is certainly traditional-“

I smirked, “I wasn’t planning on drinking from it. It’s your water bottle. And it seems to me that you shouldn’t have to do something a certain way just because Mrs. Feinstein or your mom did it that way.”

A little smile crept onto Kathryn’s face, “You little-“ The dog continued lapping at the water until it was half gone. After this, however, it struggled to reach the remaining liquid. I tipped it forward a little like a baby bottle, and the dog began to lap at it again.

Kathryn said, “I was brought up in a very traditional way, and I just think that children shouldn’t listen or take part in gossip. Well no one should really, child or adult. Because it can really hurt.”

Still feeling surprisingly bad about last night, I decided not to pry. Something was off beyond that though. How could Mrs. Feinstein be my grandmother and Kathryn’s mother not? Was she just trying make it clear that I was part of the family now, and that I needed to respect Mrs. Feinstein?

My thoughts were interrupted by a booming yet jovial voice.

“Looks like someone has made a new friend.” A man with thinning salt and pepper hair and a massive bushy mustache entered my field of view. As he spoke, the mustache moved about, wiggling from side to side, which elicited a tiny giggle from me.

Kathryn said, “Hi, Frank. Yes, sorry- Kaylee seems to really like dogs.” The dog, having finished the water, was now zealously lapping at my legs. Kathryn looked down at the scene with a disapproving glower.

Frank replied in that same happy booming tone, “Not a problem at all! She’s got good taste. And I can tell because Finnegan is licking her.”

His jokes were terrible. The type that Greg told when he had too much to drink, which usually amounted to a sip of Jack. Despite this fact, another tiny giggle escaped my lips.

Frank beamed, “Well Kathryn, I think she’s a keeper. You and Thomas never laugh at any of my jokes. So do you still need me to come and look at that door? I’ll be at the Plinkett place this afternoon, but I’ll have time tomorrow.”

Kathryn replied, “Sure, that’d be great.”

Frank nodded and then turned his attention back to me and Finnegan. He neatly untied the leash from the street sign, but even free, the little dog didn’t leave my side. “Well then, maybe I could bring this little guy over too. As long as your mom doesn’t mind. He barks like he’s possessed when I leave him too long. What do you say, Kathryn?”

Kathryn seemed to mull the decision, taking a few seconds to answer. “I-I guess it’s OK. Kaylee really does seem to like him.”

Frank looked down at me and smiled. “Now we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Frank Milner.” He reached out his hand, which I firmly shook. Well, as firm as I could. It wasn’t the crushing grip that met most of the new hires at the Palace. With my soft hand, it felt like I was pressing my palm against iron wrapped in flesh.

Frank said, “You’ve got quite the grip, Kaylee. Are you sure you haven’t been moonlighting as an arm wrestler?” Again, from the tip of my tongue sprang a musical giggle. Almost a titter. It was little girl as fuck.

Frank smiled causing his mustache to gently rise, nearly ticking his nose, “Well, I should get Finnegan home. Mrs. Plinkett will be expecting me soon enough. Very nice to meet you, Kaylee.” Finnegan resisted the sudden tug of his leash, but a quick wiggle of Frank’s mustache brought the dog over with a joyful bark.

Out went Kathryn’s hand towards mine, but I jetted ahead, finding the brightly coloured displays highlighting “Summer Reads” oddly enticing. I pushed open the doors, or at least attempted to- an assist from Kathryn was required. It was no surprise that I couldn’t open heavy glass doors set in a solid stone frame. I was weak as fuck, and considering the Pattersons probably weren’t going to let me lift any weights, I was going to stay that way. A part of me felt disgusted by such a resignation- a clear surrender, but I had to pick my battles.

As I thought about my actions in the grocery store the previous day, Ashley’s words, and the evidence that acting like a child for any period of time led to more and more of the behaviour, I knew that I had to be careful.

I had seen what happened to the boys in the studio. How gradually their minds deteriorated, until they thought nothing of escape and only the games and play before them.

And it was slowly happening to me.

So, if my reactions weren’t tempered, adult- I was walking a path that would lead me to becoming the Pattersons’ perfect little daughter. While I stared angrily at the door and then Kathryn for a moment, I had to simply let it go because it threatened to turn into an illogical tantrum. I needed help to open heavy doors, had to sit in a humiliating car seat, but fuck it- I had to deal with it. There was no amount of volcanic anger that would open the door or convince the Pattersons that all I needed was a booster seat.

They had obviously researched the fucking thing. Safest car seat on the market. Five-point harness bullshit. How was I going to convince them otherwise? Nothing other than stomping my feet and crying like a fucking demented baby.

Launching such unpleasantness from my mind, I entered a place that had the means to bring actual happiness. The Sherlock Holmes books had become a necessary distraction, minus my Xbox and easy access to Netflix.

I felt Kathryn’s hand on my back, gently attempting to steer me toward the children’s section- a section populated with little bean bag chairs, kid-sized table and animals- always smiling animals. A massive cardboard cartoon whale hung above the section declaring, “HAVE A WHALE OF A TIME: READ A BOOK!”

I wanted nothing to do with that section. Well not exactly. That little tingle I felt when I browsed Mrs. Feinstein’s bookshelf told me that I needed to stay away from it. So, off I went, even as the mostly old people in the library looked on in both wonder and judgmental astonishment as the little girl flipped through the True Crime shelf.

The glossy covers featuring handguns, broken bleeding hearts and darkened bodies sprawled out like a chalk outline murder scene immediately caught my eye.

“Well, now this is the little princess that’s got the whole town talking. Look at her! Thomas will have to chase the boys away when she’s older.”

“Hi, Janet.” Kathryn’s words sounded like they should have been accompanied by a heavy sigh, but they were calm, calculated, but most importantly, controlled.

“Are you still trying though, dear? There’s nothing more fulfilling than natural childbirth. I still remember the first time I held Bethany. It was the most wonderful day of my life. ”

This time, Kathryn sighed audibly before speaking, but instead of her shoulders sagging, dragging down her entire body, she was propped up by some incredible force. By this point, my attention had turned to the unfolding drama, and as I watched Kathryn posture change, she displayed a massive, beaming smile. “Thomas and I are overjoyed that we have Kaylee. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she’s so smart too. We’re very lucky to have her.”

Kathryn added, “Yes, she’s adopted, but we’ve got a little girl now that we can raise. It’s going to be wonderful, and it doesn’t matter if I didn’t have her. We’ll love her all the same.”

Now that my attention was successfully diverted, I also saw Janet Plinkett for the first time. She looked at Kathryn through impossibly thick glasses- so thick that it seem like she was holding two magnifying glasses in front of them. This also had the unfortunate side effect of making her eyes massive.

The massive eyes squinted behind the glasses and with a raised brow, and Janet Plinkett said all she needed. She thought Kathryn’s words were complete bullshit. I instantly disliked the woman whose eyes looked like they were be at home on a praying mantis or even a snail, but I also felt a tinge of sympathy for Kathryn. I was seriously going soft.

The older woman moved easily, seemingly gliding between the bookshelves. She was dressed much the same way as Kathryn, floral print skirt, but with a short-sleeved blouse that neatly hugged her frame. It looked expensive, especially the diamond rose-shaped brooch neatly pinned to her collar. I had seen a few other ladies with similar brooches, and I was starting to think she was the head or at least a member of some fucking old ladies tea club or something. Sitting around eating sandwiches and talking shit about people.

Janet clucked gently and shook her head. “And this new daughter that you are raising, is this the same one you are allowing to pore through completely unsuitable reading material at this very moment?”

Kathryn said proudly, “Kaylee is already reading chapter books, and she’s only just starting the first grade. She loves Sherlock Holmes and mystery novels. I want to encourage her.”

Janet gave Kathryn a sour look, “I know you believe that your generation are enlightened parents, fixing the mistakes my generation made, but this laissez-faire approach will leave you with wild, unruly teenagers.” She actually said laissez-faire with this terrible Minnesota elongated vowel completely butchered French accent. Fuck, I hated this woman.

Janet added, “I doubt very much that your mother would have approved of this. I know those types of books. They are full of seedy characters and loose women. A little girl shouldn’t be filling her mind with that.”

The eight other people in the library simply watched, a few of them also wearing the diamond brooches. None of them stepped in to say a thing. Where was Mrs. Feinstein when I needed her? Fuck, was I actually missing ‘Agatha’, especially after the bullshit she pulled with the adoption?

Janet commanded the room as not even the librarian, a young woman who was growing a massive ass sitting on a chair all day, didn’t budge- didn’t even say a word.

The mostly older crowd, other than the librarian, began to look at Kathryn with the same judgmental eyes and slight frown. I ignored them and turned back to the books, figuring Kathryn had enough Feinstein in her to push back against Janet.

Kathryn gently took my hand and pulled me toward the children’s section. I was so shocked that I didn’t even fight her attempt. Kathryn’s reaction shouldn’t have been a surprise- not when I knew that she was completely inconsistent. Hard as nails one minute, then bending over backward the next trying desperately to get me to like her.

At the entrance to the children’s section was a sign that said: “First Chapter Books”. This is where Kathryn stopped. She started flipping through the titles. I looked back over at Janet with narrowed eyes. The woman wore a self-satisfied smile. I wanted to break her teeth.

Kathryn’s eyes widened and that beaming smile returned, “Oh my god, I can’t believe they have this!” She held a much worn book, one with a spine that had been taped multiple times and many, many dog-eared pages. Kathryn waved it in front of me like- well like something that wasn’t a shitty old book.

She added, “OK. I know it’s not what you really wanted, but those books you were looking at would probably give you nightmares. The Sherlock Holmes ones you already have are fine. But look, this is a mystery too. I borrowed this from the Prescott school library. It’s actually the first chapter book that my mom ever read to me! We can read it together.”

I felt my heart sink as I saw a mouse, dressed like Sherlock Holmes, following the trail of an errant piece of cheese. The block letter title caused my heart to sink further: “Clarissa the Mouse and the Curious Case of the Missing Cheese”.

***

“Are you sure you’re a Feinstein?”

We were in the car on the way back to the Pattersons. I had decided not to throw a fit, mostly because again it served no purpose. Kathryn had been schooled by Janet fucking Plinkett. It didn’t mean I had to read the book, and I still had the Sherlock Holmes novels. This for me was a victory because I wanted desperately to stomp my feet, throw myself on the floor while causing the spinning metal racks holding the first chapter books to tumble down in a wonderful messy heap. I also wanted to tell Janet Plinkett to go fuck herself with that rose pin.

Kathryn responded, “Well I took Thomas’ last name-“

I interrupted, “That’s not what I meant. I meant that the other Feinstein I know has a spine.”

Kathryn sighed, “Where did you learn to speak like that, Kaylee? And it’s complicated with Mrs. Plinkett.”

I replied, “All I saw was you caving completely and giving in to a bunch of old ladies. You know all that stuff Janet was saying? It’s complete bullshit. All the stories aren’t like that.”

Kathryn continued driving without saying a word, while I fumed in the back, once again denied any real choice. When I lived with Eve and Greg, I was given all the choices in the world. I was even given the choice about my own adoption. Thomas and Kathryn talked a big fucking game about offering the choice, but when it went against how they saw their new little girl, they wrenched it away. Fucking hypocrites. I would have preferred they just tell me what to do than giving me the illusion of choice.

Kathryn pulled into what was becoming a familiar lane, surrounded by acres of farm fields. Twin Falls stunk like manure half the time, and while the car offered a slight breather from the smell, the odour actually eventually permeated the car’s windows. Despite the odour, I was actually relieved that I didn’t live in a suburb. Breeders lived there and their offspring. Base housing was basically a cooperative community- row upon row of townhouses, brimming with children. Children who would act as constant temptation.

As a kid, it was nice to be surrounded by so many kids, even if those kids changed nearly every year, but now, I was glad that the Pattersons lived down a small gravel road. I was unbuckled from the car seat and then was promptly handed the small pile of library books.

Kathryn said, “Go inside and wash your hands please, Kaylee. Thomas has lunch ready. And I’m sure you’ll like those books we picked.”

I rolled my eyes, “You picked.”

Kathryn said, “Honey, I just- please just do as you are told.”

I shrugged and then walked toward the house. Lunch was standard fare- chicken breast on whole wheat bread. It was edible, but it lacked the spice of Eve’s pico de gallo, where all meat, white or red was usually cooked with fresh tomato, onions, red and orange peppers. It was a Mexican flair that was making me tremendously homesick.

After lunch, Kathryn, armed with the library books, said, “Kaylee, would you like to read these with me on the couch upstairs? We can take turns. Just like you did with Mrs. Feinstein.”

I shook my head, “I think I’ll just go outside and read. Alone.” I picked up the Sherlock Holmes book I had been reading and clutched it to my chest.

Kathryn’s happy-try-too-hard demeanour with the thick painted on smile, quickly deflated, “Oh. OK. Well let me know if you change your mind.”

The kitchen actually had three exits: side door that led to the porch and a patio door that led to what was a massive backyard and the doorway leading toward the entryway to the house. As I reached up to unlock the patio door, I felt something gently being lowered on my head.

Kathryn said, “Can’t forget this. Oh and sunscreen.” She began to vigourously rub the cream into my soft skin.

I looked up to see the brim of a sunhat, which had slowly slid downward completely blocking my view. Kathryn said with a laugh, “You’ll have to grow into that one I guess. Here try this one.”

Kathryn, being so much taller, was in a perfect position to easily pluck the hat from my head and quickly replace it with another. I was starting to feel more and more like a dress-up doll. When I saw my reflection in the patio door, I began thinking again that I was going on a boat. The hat was bright white. A thin pale pink sash circled the hat, the ends meeting toward the back and tied into a neat bow.

Kathryn ran the sunscreen up and down my legs, her own soft hands pressing gently into my skin as she lathered on the stuff like the sun had left its orbit, descended into the backyard and was waiting to cook me alive. The process reminded me of the day that Eve and I went to the beach. Yes, it was the horrible day when I found out that two drunk girls fighting in bikinis, hosed down with tits bouncing and asses jiggling hypnotically did nothing for me. Not even a peep from my libido. But, it was also the day, I found out that Eve actually cared about me. Her sweet machinations, the hands rolling up and down my shoulders as we just enjoyed the light breeze and the summer sun, how she had saved me from my life as Cecily the mermaid and how she pulled me from the brink- I would never forget it.

I glared at my reflection, disliking how girly the hat looked and subsequently flung it on the floor. Kathryn stopped the rubbing and said firmly, “You have to wear a hat if you want to go outside, Kaylee. You could get sunstroke.”

I sighed and said, “Don’t you have like a baseball cap or something?”

Kathryn nodded readily and pulled another hat out of a bag. She pulled the tag off of a bright pink baseball cap. Unsurprisingly, it was Frozen themed with Anna and Elsa’s beaming faces on the front of the hat. Anna, innocent and pure and Elsa, knowing and powerful. I sighed lightly, took the hat and put it on my head. Kathryn finished slathering the sunscreen on my face, still seemingly worried that I would be blackened to a crisp the moment I stepped foot outside.

I spent the afternoon allowing my imagination to catapult me to Victorian England. With my dad’s pin in hand, I managed to fight any desire to try out what was a massive play structure. Fuck, if I had been an actual six year old, the Pattersons probably would have been the best parents ever. For all their anxiety over being parents, how they wanted to shape Kaylee into a seemingly well-mannered, boat-clothes wearing young lady, they sure didn’t see anything wrong with spoiling her rotten.

The play structure had a really fun looking slide, a wooden ladder to climb into the second storey which acted as a sort of clubhouse. There was even an awning with what was likely supposed to be a storefront. My favourite as a kid though was always the swings, and they called my name the loudest. I sat there underneath an umbrella that Kathryn insisted on setting up, already getting little to no sun and watching as the pages of my books became sticky with the sunscreen.

Every time I felt the tinniest urge, I pressed the pin into my palm. The afternoon passed without issue and soon enough, it was supper time.

As I entered the house to eat, I smelled baked cheese, and my stomach growled. OK. Maybe the Pattersons were decent cooks. I clambered up onto what was becoming my seat- Kaylee’s spot at the table and spied a baking dish full of lasagna. From the smell and thickness of the cheese, it was at least a three cheese lasagna. I smelled something sweet too, probably a hint of cinnamon.

Fork firmly in hand, I was ready to dig in, but as Thomas cut a piece of lasagna for me, the sauce bubbled and the cheese oozed onto the plate. It was like someone had taken a beautiful girl and glued a mustache on her face. It was ruined.

It looked like a plate of puke, and despite the wonderful smell, I was completely disgusted.

The slab of lasagna, which Kathryn proceeded to cut into bite-sized morsels when she saw I wasn’t touching it, only looked worse after. The noodles which sat in the mixture of gooey cheese and sauce were now mangled, looking like they had already been chewed. I pushed a bite onto my fork, but I couldn’t even bring myself to bring it to my mouth.

Eve’s lasagna was just so much better.

Thomas looked at me with concern, “What’s wrong, Kaylee? Are you feeling well?”

Kathryn frowned, “I knew it was too hot for her to be outside all afternoon.”

I shook my head and pushed my plate away, unable to hide my disgust. “I-I don’t want this.” Didn’t it look like Eve’s lasagna? It didn’t smell the same, but the aroma was so inviting, tickling my nose and initially causing my stomach to growl.

No, this lasagna was different. It was just…gross looking.

“I want something else.”

Thomas and Kathryn shared worried glances. A moment later, however, Thomas looked at me with a smile, “I want you to at least try it, Kaylee.”

Kathryn looked at Thomas with a frown, “She needs to eat it. It’s not about trying it. It’s about eating it.”

Thomas said with a smirk, “Says the person who still won’t try sushi. Kids can be really picky eaters. Maybe we just need to find something that she likes to eat.”

Kathryn shook her head, “This isn’t a restaurant, Thomas. She needs to eat what’s on her plate, or- or there’s no dessert.” She then turned to me and said, “Do you understand, Kaylee? No dessert if you don’t eat your supper.”

I replied, “Considering I saw what you bought and what you consider as dessert, I don’t see that as much of a threat. Ooh, no probably terrible tasting low-fat no sugar cookies. How terrible.”

Thomas, who had already finished half his plate, said, “I can’t believe how sarcastic she is. Look, I’m sorry Kat, I have to finish that research grant proposal tonight, so I can’t exactly sit with her and make sure she eats all of that. I know you were kind of with her the whole day, but these grants-“

Kathryn sighed, “I know. I know how important they are for the university.” She then turned to me, “Fine, if you don’t want to eat that then you’ll lose your screen time for tonight. I was going to show you my favourite Disney movie, but I guess it’ll have to wait.”

I looked down at the lasagna, still ultimately finding the whole thing disgusting, but also thinking that something strange was happening. I mean would it taste fine if I just had a little bite? It smelled really good.

I just couldn’t get over the aesthetic presentation. So, so, gross.

Thomas finished hurriedly and left in the direction of the office I had snuck into last night. Kathryn continued eating but in a much daintier manner, putting bites in her mouth that didn’t require more than a few chews and lightly dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

I said, “I don’t want to eat it. And I don’t care about Disney movies. I don’t like them.”

Kathryn sighed, “I don’t understand it. Mrs. McDavid said they are your favourite, especially the princess ones.”

I shrugged, “Sounds like you got some bad intelligence.”

Kathryn said, “Well, that’s what is for dinner. If you don’t eat it then that’s it. You can have a small healthy snack before bed, but no dessert and no screen time.”

I left the table and went up to the second floor reading area and launched back into Sherlock Holmes. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I didn’t have the distraction of the written words. The story allowed me to leave my concerns. I still needed to figure out how to contact Eve and Greg, but no screen time and supervised screen time made it impossible. I couldn’t even access the contacts on my phone to call Eve, and of course, I didn’t know the number off-by-heart. Fucking cellphones were annoying sometimes.

Bedtime progressed the exact way it had the previous night, although there was supposed to bes a bath to wash off the sunscreen, which I quickly turned into a shower. No story and no night light and an awkward ‘I love you’ from each wannabe parent that was not reciprocated. Both of them kept up brave faces, but I could tell that they were disappointed they couldn’t do as Kathryn termed them ‘little girl things’, especially Kathryn.

The next day, Frank came over and brought Finnegan. I spent the entire morning and much of the afternoon playing with the dog, bringing him for walks and generally having the time of my life. Midnight watched us from the sill of the large window in the master bedroom, his tail flapping back and forth in controlled rage.

The cat had tried on occasion to enter my room, but I always shooed him away. I knew if I started petting him, he would think that I liked him, and he would try and sleep in my bed, and that just wasn’t happening. The one time I had rolled over on Hannah’s stupid cat told me all I needed to know about cats in beds as did the numerous painful scratches I received.

Frank said, “You’re so good with him, Kaylee! A regular dog whisperer.”

I beamed and then threw the stick as far as I could, which admittedly wasn’t very far at all- a few feet at best. The dog returned with it in a flash, and I threw it again. The little dog had to have a battery pack. Nothing had that kind of energy, and yet, I found I could keep up with Finnegan. I ran around with him clad in my pink Frozen hat with my own boundless energy.

I said, “He’s great. It makes me really miss having a dog.”

Frank raised a brow, which caused his mustache to move slightly askew, “You had a dog in the orphanage?” The last word of the question was as gently as possible, as if Frank feared that I was as fragile as a china doll.

I shook my head, “No, um, it was when I was with the people I was staying with. After I escaped from the studio.”

Frank nodded, “It’s an incredible story. You’re so brave, Kaylee. Making your way through the streets and then on the bus. Why I feel out of sorts in the Twin Cities half the time. What do you think of Twin Falls so far? Oh and the weather? Not as hot as Los Angeles I’d imagine?”

Frank was Minnesotan as fuck, right down to asking about the weather. In California, people mostly talked about droughts, wildfires and earthquakes. I replied, “Well it’s OK I guess. Kind of small. Not what I’m used to.”

Frank smiled, his mustache tickling his nose, “Well yes, it’s small. But that’s the charm of it. Lived here my whole life, and there’s not a place I’d rather be. I think you’ll come to like it. Your mom did. She moved from California too.”

He grinned, “Now you might not like it too much in the winter, but I’m sure your parents bought you a real warm coat. And boots, mitts, you’ll need a balaclava some days. Better known as a ski mask. There’s lots to do here to do in the winter- skiing, skating. You’ll see. And wait until you see how it lights up at Christmas time. It’s like a movie.

Finnegan sure doesn’t like it though. He has to put on these boots, and he gets real snappy sometimes. Course if he doesn’t wear ‘em, we end up with the dance of the three-legged dog.”

Frank got on all fours and proceeded to balance on one leg, this ridiculous action normally would have made me scoff, but instead, I found it funny. Really funny. I burst out laughing, and it actually felt kind of good. Frank was like my dad, naturally handy, outdoorsy, a dog lover, but kind of like a PG version. He didn’t have the same sometimes salty language or workmanlike focus that my dad acquired in the military.

Kathryn appeared holding a pitcher of water with Thomas trailing behind. Why couldn’t she be a normal mom and bring lemonade or iced tea? I would have even accepted watered-down Kool-Aid or Tang.

Thomas said, “Hey, Frank, thanks a lot for fixing the door.”

Frank smiled, “It’s my pleasure. And it looks like I’ve got the perfect doggie babysitter when I go into town. Finnegan really hates the car. He barks every single time I use the turn signal. And you know I don’t mind taking some time to show you some really easy things you can do to keep up the house. Your faucets are loose in the bathroom. And there’s a rotten board on your front porch. Some of your shingles too are coming loose.”

Thomas shook his head, “No, it’s OK, Frank. I’m really too busy with work these days. And plus I’m just terrible with things like that. And we like giving you the business.”

Frank’s mustache bristled, but any frown was hidden by his facial hair, “Thomas Patterson, I ran a very successful hardware store in town for thirty years. I don’t do this because I need the money. I genuinely want to help you, and you’ve got an old place. You should learn how to fix it up.”

Thomas replied, “Look, Frank- it’s- it’s not that I don’t want to learn. I-I’m just really busy.”

Fucking liar. Here was another poor excuse for a man, just like Greg, who once nearly fell off a small step ladder while changing a lightbulb at the Palace.

Frank drank some water and then called Finnegan. He politely said goodbye to Thomas and Kathryn, but in a way that was more from custom than desire.

The older man turned and winked at me, a smile brimming underneath his thick facial hair.

***

“Fuck!”

Thomas sat with his glasses teetering atop his head, poring over the New York Times. He looked up and said, ““Kaylee! Language!” He then immediately returned to his paper.

I was eating cereal, just normal, plain, boring Cheerios, and sometimes if I wasn’t careful, due to the gaps, bits of food would painfully jab against my exposed gums. A few nights ago, a popcorn kernel had lodged in the massive gap that once housed one of my two front teeth. It hurt like fuck until I managed to dislodge it. My tongue rooted around in my mouth, snaking its way through the gaps searching for the offending food, but I couldn’t find anything. I took another mouthful, watching as a pair of sliced strawberries bobbed in the milk, and again, I felt pain.

“Fuck that hurts!”

When I caught my finger in the door during the double date with Jessica, Eve and Greg, the throbbing, quickly swollen digit sent stinging shocks of pain throughout my entire hand, but I didn’t say a word about it. Even when Eve said I should go to the hospital or at least a clinic, I sat there and took it. That filter was gone. It was like a water treatment plant that suddenly produced hefty amounts of sewage. And this pain caused me to spew curses that would have normally been screamed internally.

My pain centres seemed to be attached directly to my tongue.

Thomas grumbled lightly and shuffled the newspaper before setting it down. Despite his gruff demeanour, he spoke softly, “Is something wrong, Kaylee? Where do you feel the pain?”

I shook my head, “It’s nothing.” And then, I took another mouthful of cereal and the milk, which must have been nearly frozen, entered into what felt like a small groove or hole in one of my back teeth. Instead of shouting another obscenity, I whimpered- like a fucking puppy that got its tail stepped on. To be honest, it had been bothering me for a few days, but only now did it feel like someone was dropping liquid nitrogen into the cavity.

I didn’t want to admit it, considering I knew what would happen. With my dad in the army, we got the perks of paid dental, but once I moved to LA, I never bothered to renew the coverage, which meant I hadn’t been to the dentist in about two years. This in itself wasn’t the major issue. I never had problems at the dentist, and the checkup and cleaning I could take, but the needle, probably as long as my arm, jabbing into the crevice- that was the issue.

Thomas furrowed his brow, “I think we should take you to see Dr. Olga before school starts on Monday. I’ll see if she has any appointments. She’s a really nice dentist. I think you’ll like her. ”

I knew that I would be dragged to a dentist, and I knew that the needle was coming. I had seen and heard horrible things in the studio, thin metal piercing skin and the screams- I would never forget the anguished shrieks of the formerly emotionless doctor whose screams punctuated his humanity, something he had seemingly sought to shed. Still, if I was going to establish that I was still the same man inside, I needed to take the needle and quit being a fucking baby.

“It’ll be OK, Kaylee. Dr. Olga will get you fixed up. You don’t want to have pain in your mouth every time you eat, right? You could never eat ice cream. What’s your favourite kind of ice cream?”

I know what he was doing. It was an old waiter trick- distraction. Kids tearing napkins out of the holder, throwing their utensils? Talk about the shirt they were wearing, which was usually some superhero or sports team. Then, when they were sufficiently focused, hit them with the million fucking dollar question: what do you want to eat? Thomas had either been a server, or he really had read every single parenting book.

I hadn’t realized it at first, but I was surprisingly rigid. While I told myself that I shouldn’t be scared, that it would be a simple procedure, my body had decided to adopt the posture and consistency of the kitchen table.

I shook my head, “I don’t have one. And whatever, just call the dentist. I’ll go.”

Thomas’ glasses slowly slid down onto his nose from the top of his head. His eyes, suddenly magnified, showed surprise. “Oh. Okay.” He was probably expecting a massive blow up, an atomic bomb meeting a hurricane all riding a tidal wave, but there was nothing except grim acceptance.

Soon enough, we were off to the dentist. I had expected some country dentist office filled with magazines from the 90s with receptionists working behind CRT monitors, but it was actually ultra-modern looking. And bright. It reminded me of the studio lights, which sent a tiny shiver of fear up my spine. Multiple flat-screen TVs broadcast Sports Centre and 24-hour news networks. Despite its modern look, it was still small, and it had the country dentist office aesthetic with a community board plastered with ads for garage sales, links to registration for the Twin Falls Autumn Pageant and an end of summer corn roast. I had seen a similar board at the grocery store.

Thomas, who still seemed amazed that I had come to the dentist without an epic struggle, sat quietly reading his tablet. I snuck a glance at his screen, reading “How to prepare your child for their first filling”. I smirked- did this guy need a fucking instruction manual to take a shit? Remove toilet paper from roll, wipe thoroughly. Repeat as needed.

It was ironic too, considering most of the parenting books he and Kathryn read wouldn’t help them at all. Thomas urged me to go to the kid’s corner, but I wasn’t interested. The lure wasn’t there. Apparently, I still had to touch the toys to be affected by them. And beyond that anyway, they were all baby toys.

“Kaylee Patterson. We’re ready for you, honey.”

I was glad that Kathryn hadn’t brought me. She was more of a helicopter parent than Thomas. My first impression wasn’t good. Going outside involved her slathering me with so much sun screen I felt like I had a second skin and then sitting me under an umbrella so large that I would have needed arms six feet long to feel a hint of sun. She also tried to hold my hand whenever we crossed the street or walked through a parking lot. She probably would have followed me into the appointment. Thankfully, Thomas did not.

The woman who called me led me toward the dentist chair. She was pleasant, although much of that probably had to do with putting on her face. My detective novels, especially the Sherlock Holmes ones called it putting on ‘airs’. Servers did it and anyone who has to work with the public.

The check-up was all very routine. She put things in my mouth, cleaned, took an X-ray which made me gag a little. She made small talk with me, and I answered awkwardly with my mouth open. Mostly asking me about school and if I was excited to be starting the first grade.

The hygienist said, “OK, Kaylee. You’ve done a great job so far. The dentist will look at your X-rays and then check your teeth. Does that sound good?”

I shrugged and nodded, and she added with a smile, “When your check-up is over, you’ll get to take something from the treasure chest.” Despite the pleasantries, I still knew what was coming- the needle. I knew what a fucking cavity felt like, and this was it. So, when the dentist came in, a woman who would have been at home in some Russian bride catalogue with bountiful curves and a set of tits that were seemingly trying to escape from her tight, white coat, I wasn’t surprised to hear her discussing a filling with the hygienist. The hygienist left the room, leaving me with the buxom dentist.

I was even less surprised when Thomas came into the room with a careful smile. His movements were slow and deliberate as he parked himself on the stool next to the dentist chair. He was so cautious, he might as well have been tip-toeing through broken glass. The dentist said with a slight Russian accent, “You have some sugar bugs on your teeth, Kaylee- I-“

I groaned and rolled my eyes, “Sugar bugs? Seriously? I know what’s up, and I know what you have to do. So just do it.”

Thomas sighed lightly, “Uh. Yeah, she’s from California. She’s picked up some habits there. Most of them making her sound a bit like she’s sixteen rather than six.”

The dentist smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. “It’s OK, Mr. Patterson. Maybe she just doesn’t want the usual spiel. Whatever makes her feel comfortable is best. So I’ll be perfectly honest with her.”

The cautious smile disappeared. She was no longer trying to calm me- and her voice adopted a workmanlike tone, “Your cavity is quite deep, so I’ll have to drill a little bit. It also means I’ll need to freeze you. I’ll apply a special gel to the area to make sure that you don’t feel the needle as much. It won’t take longer than ten minutes really. Sound OK?”

I expected this is how the dentist spoke to older children or even adults, so I was pleasantly surprised by the switch. I had expected some sing-song bullshit, especially if Thomas mentioned how difficult I could be, but by being straight with me, I actually respected the dentist more.

I nodded slowly, and the hygienist handed me a pair of sunglasses and then lowered my chair.

Thomas said, “You look like a rock star with those shades, Kaylee.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, which caused the dentist to laugh, “I see what you mean, Mr. Patterson. Maybe it’s good to get the teenage behaviour out of the way now when she can’t get into as much trouble. I’m sure she’ll be a perfect angel when she’s a teen.”

The hygienist said, “Yup. It was like that with me and my sister. I was a horrible kid but a perfect teen. My sister was the other way around. Crazy wild child. I remember one time, her being so drunk she couldn’t even get into bed. She fell asleep next to the toilet.” The adults all laughed.

Thomas asked with a slight stutter, “H-How can we prevent Kaylee from getting any additional cavities?”

The dentist replied, “Well limit sugary snacks- and avoid soda of any kind. Most of all make sure to brush her teeth twice a day and floss.”

Thomas said with a frown, “Oh, well we’ve been letting her brush her own teeth. Kaylee has a very strong, um, independent streak. We don’t keep any kind of soda in the house at all though.”

The dentist said with a smile, “It’s fine to let her go first, but she doesn’t have the motor skills nor likely the patience to properly brush her teeth. You should be checking her teeth until she is at least eight years old. Flossing too.”

Thomas nodded, “Oh. Okay.” No fucking way they were going to be brushing my teeth for me. As if I couldn’t stand in front of a mirror for two minutes with a toothbrush in my mouth- it was insulting.

The dentist and Thomas continued talking, with the dentist outlining my entire childhood, discussing when my adult teeth would grow in, all the way up to when I would likely need braces. It seemed impossible that I would remain with the Pattersons for even five months let alone five years. As I pondered this, preparations for the filling continued. I looked over at the instrument tray and recognized most of them. I knew the drill, which would remove the rotten parts of the tooth, allowing the dentist to fill it. There was the little mirror and the tool the hygienist had to hold to make sure the mirror didn’t get fogged up. It was all there, including a small needle, probably about the size of my adult index finger.

The moment I saw it, however, I tensed up.

The others in the room continued chatting, failing to notice that every muscle in my body was flexing like I was a contestant in some elementary body building competition. I scrunched my toes, seeing them curl in the pretty white sandals.

The hygienist said, “OK, Kaylee. Open your mouth, and I’ll put a little gel there. Honey?”

The tension in the room suddenly increased tenfold as the airy, light banter that had previously permeated the room ceased. The air in the room felt heavy and with my mouth clamped shut, I started taking in deep breaths through my nose. This caused my lungs to inflate and my little chest to push up and out at a quickening pace.

I needed to just get the needle.

I needed to feel it jab into my gums.

I needed to show that I wasn’t scared of what happened in the studio. This would prove that Ryan Sullivan still lived and breathed and fought.

A sliver of metal in my arm had reduced me to this state. At the time, Dr. Travers stared at me, gauging my reaction as he jammed it in my arm, no pleasure or concern, and I took it. I wasn’t a fucking pussy about it, and this was a dentist office- not the studio. After my tantrum over the candy bar, I needed this small victory.

But, I couldn’t open my mouth.

My eyes continued flicking back and forth erratically, seeking out the location of the needle, ensuring that it wasn’t any closer to me. The hygienist and the dentist returned to their cautious tones, speaking soothing words in my ear to coax me to open my mouth.

“It’s OK, Kaylee. Just don’t look at it. I’ll put the gel on, and I’ll tell you when to close your eyes.”

Above me, a flat-screen TV slowly entered my view. I watched as the familiar Netflix screen appeared and then a multitude of icons displaying everything from Curious George to Thomas the Tank Engine to Barbie.

“Here, Kaylee, you can pick something to watch.” The hygienist slid the remote, which was covered in a thin layer of plastic, into my hand. Stone, Avengers- anything good really wasn’t an option as the Netflix KIDS mode had been enabled. Not that I could watch the former in front of the others anyway.

Thomas stuttered, “S-She doesn’t really like cartoons. Or any kids shows.”

The hygienist said, “I’m sure there’s something on there that she’ll like. It should help distract her.” I felt a pair of headphones gently slide over my ears. However, I was surprised when nothing seemed remotely interesting.

Little by little, however, I gathered my courage. It began with the loosening of my Rottweiler-like locked jaw. I simply couldn’t be afraid of the dentist. Because Ryan Sullivan wasn’t afraid of the dentist, even if it meant a little prick in his gums. As my mouth slowly opened, the air within the room felt infinitely lighter. It was an LA day without the thick blanket of smog. The hygienist smiled and cautiously put her fingers in my mouth, “Good girl, Kaylee.” I flinched as something extremely cold was applied to my gums.

Knowing what was next, I forcefully shut my eyes, but kept my mouth wide open. Even without seeing anything, I knew that something- the needles- I knew it was approaching. It was a slow moving inevitability. The closer it came, however, the more my heart began to race. As the needle drew nearer, my imagination burst loose, sowing new fear deep within.

The thing coming toward me wasn’t a needle- no, it was an instrument of pain. The dentist held it in two hands, while cackling maniacally, the pointed tip widening until it was a razor sharp spear. Why did the dentist want to hurt me? What had I done to her? My head began shaking back and forth in a constant ‘no’ as I felt someone reach for my hand. The hand grasping mine was soft with long nails, and for a second, it was Eve’s. Her presence would soothe my childish fear, but it felt different, and I knew it wasn’t her, and that is when I began to shake all over.

“It’s OK, Kaylee. Hey, we don’t need to do it this way. Some children and even adults- well they don’t like needles. They are scared of them. Maybe it’s because you had a bad experience with one. It doesn’t matter how it happened. All you have to know is there’s another way. I’ll talk to your daddy about some different options while you watch something fun, OK?”

The dentist and Thomas both left the room while the hygienist stayed and tried to hold my hand. While the fear over the needle was gone, I was left with grave disappointment in myself, but there was something else too- an unwelcome understanding. Ryan Sullivan may not have been scared of needles, but Kaylee Patterson- she was terrified. It was becoming clear that I was slowly but surely becoming the latter. I had slip ups, the restaurant with Eve and Greg and my freak outs over the online games, but it seemed like I was slipping every day now.

Even the toys in the waiting room, I hadn’t seen them as kids’ toys, something to be ignored. No, I had placed a different filter on them- baby toys. What the fuck was happening to me? The hygienist put on some show about magic talking ponies, but I was numb to everything around me.

The dentist handed me a cup of something. It tasted like an orange freeze pop. Soon after, however, I started to feel like I was high. Everything was loose, except for my head, which felt like someone had filled it with shifting bits of fuzzy cement. My mouth opened so wide, I probably could have swallowed a whole rabbit. Maybe even a hippo. This brought to mind the funny dancing hippo from the KIDS mode games, and I giggled. Someone put something in my mouth, but I didn’t care. I kept thinking about the dancing hippo.

Eventually, I felt myself being carried to the car.

When I came to, I was in my four-poster bed, snuggled up on Elsa’s face, in a pose that was likely captured by Kathryn and was probably already on Facebook. Or her desktop screensaver. The woman clearly had problems.

My tongue traced along to the cavity, but the little hole had been filled. I was exhausted from the entire experience and defeated. It was a fucking trip to the dentist. I remembered going to a different base dentist nearly every year and never being afraid. My mouth was never full of cavities, but I usually had one or two. My imagination had, once again, shaken loose, like some mistreated chained dog, it howled in near rabid fury, erasing all reason and creating a nightmare world where dentistry wasn’t about healthy teeth but about pain, with gleeful dentists cackling in sadist delight. I told myself that it wasn’t real, just like how ridiculous Kathryn’s statement about not sleeping meant never growing, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince myself that there wasn’t some truth to what I knew were bold-faced lies.

A firm rapping on my door brought Kathryn into my room. As was her habit, she knocked once and then entered. Thomas, on the other hand, would knock hesitantly and then wait for my OK to enter.

The woman sat on the edge of my bed. Everything about her was immaculate (as always), not a hair out of place with her face tastefully made up. “Are you OK, Kaylee? Thomas mentioned that you didn’t have much fun at the dentist.”

I replied, “When has going to a dentist ever been fun? Do you like getting drilled and filled?”

Kathryn lightly cleared her throat, which made me wonder if her prim and prissy conservative self had, for a brief moment, taken my words to mean something else entirely. “Dr. Olga is a very nice dentist. I’ll admit though that I don’t like going.” I watched her hand travel slowly toward me. It stopped on my back and then made gentle circular motions- over and over.

“It’s OK to be scared of certain things, Kaylee. Everything you were going through was completely normal. Do you know there are things that I’m still scared of even as a grown-up?”

Kathryn’s touch was unsurprisingly quite soothing. I was turned away from her, my legs pulled up into my body, but I felt my foetal position loosening as she continued rubbing my back. The sensation brought memories of my own childhood to the forefront, my mom gently rubbing my back after I had snuck down in the middle of the night to watch one of my dad’s horror movies. It terrified me, and it didn’t help that I watched in near complete darkness except for the dull glow of the TV. I knew at that point that I had to get rid of her.

Kathryn said, “Spiders. I can’t stand them even today. Thomas will tell you that they have a purpose. They are part of the house’s ecosystem, catching and eating other little pests, but none of that matters. I can’t look at them. So even adults can be scared of things. Sometimes we can’t help it. To be scared of needles is very common. You’ll probably outgrow it.”

I sighed lightly, conflicted with what I had to do. Her actions were returning me to a childlike mindset, reducing my thoughts to the simple desire to be protected, to wash away my fear. I shook my head, an affirmation of what had become absolutely necessary.

I replied, “That’s because you’re a pussy. A grown woman scared of spiders? It’s fucking sad.”

Kathryn’s hand on my back stopped abruptly, so quickly, in fact, that she might as well have been suddenly paralyzed. Then, like a dog banished to the yard after too many house-training accidents, her hand slinked back to her side. I had expected a Feinstein tirade, one populated with the words ‘hellion’ and ‘not a proper young lady’, punctuated with a threat involving Ivory Snow, but it never came. Instead, Kathryn looked at me sadly and slowly shook her head.

The woman who could convince me with only her voice to sit in the five-point car seat and who had berated me for embarrassing her in the grocery store was not sitting on the edge of my bed. Was this a good thing? Would they give up on me as too damaged, as someone who could never be their little girl?

“What am I going to do with you, Ryan?” My mom had said those words the night I took her car and got high with Hannah, and the night she had given up on me. I waited for the words, but Kathryn never said them.

Was I close to that with Kathryn?

I should have been happy that I was seemingly breaking this woman, but as she slipped away from the bed, I felt only sadness. Kathryn said nothing as she left the room, but the buoyant, confident step she had when she entered was erased. Moments later, I heard her on the phone with her sister, but she ducked into the kitchen, so I missed everything past the ‘Hello’.

Dinner was a solemn affair that night. Considering what I said, Kathryn was surprisingly friendly. Conversations turned to the first day of school and what I would learn, but oddly neither Kathryn nor Thomas brought up how I had spoken to her. Just before bed, she even said that she was certain that I would do better at the dentist the next time. My dad would have kicked the shit out of me for talking like that to him, and my mom would have probably cried. Kathryn didn’t even punish me.

The only difference that night was that Kathryn played no role in the bedtime routine. Thomas met me in the bathroom before I had brushed my teeth.

“Okay, Kaylee. You can brush your teeth like usual, but I’m going to have a look when you are done.”

I replied, “That’s bullshit. Look, I can do it. I don’t need you poking in my mouth like some wannabe dentist.”

Thomas said firmly, “This isn’t up for discussion.”

I said, “I think it is. If I can prove to you that I can stand here and brush them properly, then you don’t need to do anything, right?”

Thomas, unlike Kathryn, didn’t seem to have the same Feinstein-like intensity to him. He wanted the rules to be followed, but he seemed hesitant to enforce them. After all, he relied almost entirely on Kathryn to get me into the car seat.

An unusual intensity appeared in Thomas’ eyes. His mouth tightened as his jaw clenched. When he finally spoke, spittle came from his mouth while his hands shook, “I’ve had enough of your attitude for one day, Miss Thing. I know that you are almost entirely used to getting your way, but that’s not how it’s going to work here. What you said to Kathryn was completely beyond reproach. This is someone who is pouring out their heart to you, just trying to make you feel better. And that’s how you act?”

Despite his scrawny frame, Thomas was still considerably taller than I was. This combined with his rare intensity had me listening with rapt attention.

“A-And unless you want a mouth full of cavities, you’ll let me check your teeth. You know that if you get too many cavities, the dentist won’t be able to fix them all, right? If they get too rotten, she’ll have to yank them all out. Not to mention, if you get too many at once, she’ll have no choice but to use the needle to freeze you. For each and every cavity.”

My toothbrush tumbled from my hands. The small plastic bottom sprung open upon impact with the floor, exposing the batteries. My voice was barely a squeak. “E-each one?” It didn’t seem possible. Quick math for five cavities meant five separate needles. I had only ever had one or two cavities at once, so maybe Thomas was right?

My brain simply couldn’t fathom a world where I could take that many needles. Images from the studio of long thin needles filled with a greenish liquid entered my mind. I saw the needles puncture Dr. Travers over and over again. The tortured screams played on an incessant loop. This was real fear. A real event. But, as I was gripped by the fear, my imagination took hold again. The needles grew to a ridiculous size and gained flight. They chased me down an endless corridor, nipping at my heels with their points like terrible giant birds of prey.

“Kaylee. You can go first, but I want to look at them after.” He leaned down and picked up the toothbrush. Thomas popped the batteries back in place and then held the object out to me. I shook my head fervently, knowing that I could never, ever be around a needle again. It wasn’t rational, considering the shots I would need at the doctor as I grew up and the possibility that I would actually have that many cavities at some point, but at least I could control the latter.

Thomas, seemingly understanding what he had wrought, frowned and then squeezed some toothpaste on the brush. Without being asked, I opened my mouth wide. Thomas inserted the brush, and I watched as a grown man brushed my teeth. Humiliation welled within, but there was also a sense of comfort- the protection afforded by this simple routine would save me from the dentist. If Thomas and Kathryn brushed my teeth, I would never get a cavity. Thomas hadn’t explained it that way, but it seemed right.

Inside, Ryan Sullivan seethed, and then as the grown man brushing his teeth gently tilted the little girl’s head back, allowing him easier access to the back teeth, little by little Ryan Sullivan came apart.

He was dying inside.

I-I was dying inside- my organs crushed, blood seeping into places it was never meant to go. I was only one or two humiliations away from being wiped from existence by the serum, and worse yet-

I had school Monday.

***

Designer Children Chapter 27 by OneShot20XX (oneshot20XX@gmail.com)

“I’ve yelled at her. I’m not proud of it.”

“Kat, there’s a difference between shouting at a child and terrorizing her. You should have seen the look on her face. It’s something my-“

“You are not your dad. You made a mistake.” Kathryn’s voice wavered and then she said reluctantly. “We are going to- we are going to make at least a few of them.”

Thomas laughed awkwardly, “We are going to make a lot of them. It seems like no matter what the books say, hardly anything works.”

It was Saturday morning and Thomas and Kathryn were having breakfast, while I listened at the door. With my lightweight frame, it was easy to sneak around the house undetected.

Kathryn replied, “I talked to my sister about Kaylee’s behaviour and how she treated me yesterday. Emma and Sophia, never ever speak to her that way. I don’t know what it is, but it looks like she wants the help, and then she pushes us away.”

Thomas sighed lightly, “I don’t know either.”

Both of them sounded incredibly frustrated, and I hadn’t even been in the house a week. I should have been more satisfied that Thomas had also clearly been affected by my behaviour, but a part of me felt bad. I should have despised them both, wanted to make their lives a living hell, but the heaviness in which they spoke sent pangs of guilt through my little body. Suddenly, I felt something soft and furry rub against my leg. Midnight’s unexpected appearance caused me to let out a surprised yelp, which immediately gave away my position.

Thomas barked, “Kaylee! Are you listening at the door?”

I said sheepishly, “Uh. No?”

More heavy sighs penetrated the door from the kitchen. Moments later the door swung open, and I was pulled into the kitchen. Kathryn said, “Kaylee, it is impolite to eavesdrop.”

I replied, “What did you want me to do exactly? Go back upstairs and wait for you to finish, just because you might be talking about me? Not happening. Besides, I’m fucking hungry.”

Considering the amount of sighing happening in the kitchen, I was surprised that Thomas and Kathryn hadn’t both passed out from the massive amount of air they were expelling. Thomas frowned and took off his glasses, tapping them gently against the table. He didn’t so much frown as contort his face in disappointment, his bottom lip practically enveloping the top. “How many times do we have to tell you not to swear, Kaylee? We don’t use words like that in this family.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m thinking maybe twelve times. Maybe thirteen. How many times has it been?”

A tiny grin appeared on Kathryn’s face. “Agatha did say she was too smart for her own good.”

Thomas glared at Kathryn and returned the glasses to his face, “Kat! Don’t encourage her. I bet you wouldn’t be laughing if she was doing it to you.”

Kathryn lightly cleared her throat, “No, of course not. But I guess it’s up to us to help to guide her. She obviously needs to be challenged. She needs a creative outlet. But I agree we need to do something about the swearing.”

I joined Kathryn and Thomas at the kitchen table, and Thomas slid an omelet onto the plate in front of me. As always, I gobbled my food, my wannabe parents told me to slow down, and then I retreated to the couch on the second floor to read. I still wanted an Xbox, and at this point, I would have even accepted a stupid Wii, but at least I still had the Sherlock Holmes books. The Clarissa mouse detective novel lay on the coffee table, and while I felt a tiny tingle urging me to pick it up, I was able to ignore it.

Midnight attempted multiple times to sit on my lap, but each time, I managed to slide him off by shifting my hips back and forth in a semi crab walk. As I settled into the book, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then a gentle thunk on the coffee table. Thomas said, “Kaylee, Saturday is cleaning day. Kathryn and I are expecting you to help too. I’d like you to start by folding this laundry.”

When I was a kid, I was expected to clean my room, but that was mostly a losing battle for my mom. I had never picked up a duster or swept anything. Even my apartment, I mostly just cleaned the surfaces, wiped the kitchen counter and cleaned the bathroom. Laundry involved the machine in my building that worked only half the time and then stuffing it into drawers. If there was one thing I actually enjoyed about being a kid was that I didn’t really have any responsibilities. I didn’t have to work, getting yelled at by ungrateful, rude customers, coming home smelling like three different kinds of onions, so because of this, I actually scoffed at Thomas’ suggestion.

Thomas said firmly, “Kaylee, you are living in this house now. It’s only fair that everyone pulls their weight. I know you can’t do some things because you are a kid, but you can certainly fold and put away your laundry.”

I raised a brow, “Oh really? And what are you going to do? Got another grant thing to write?” I was starting to believe that Thomas used the grant excuse to get out of doing work. Like, who was so clueless they couldn’t fix a rotten step or a door slightly off its hinges?

Thomas replied matter-of-factly, “Sweep the upstairs hallway and all the bedrooms. And clean the upstairs bathroom.” Why the hell would he agree to do that? Part of the reason why I hated the prospect of growing up and becoming a woman was that I would be forced to do what Eve did, which was to pretty much clean the whole apartment. Greg did the dishes when Eve cooked, but beyond that, Eve was the only one who ever picked up a broom. It was definitely like that growing up too. My dad fixed cars, cooked on the barbeque, but he certainly never cleaned the house. It was a fact- guys definitely had it easier. I wasn’t sure why it was like that, but it’s all I had ever known, and I accepted it.

I ignored Thomas and proceeded to bury my nose further in my book, completely blocking the man from view. A moment later, the book was snatched away, revealing an exasperated Thomas, whose face was red and whose eyes bore into me angrily. “It’s time for you to drop this Hollywood attitude, missy. You are going to understand that you will not, under any circumstances be getting away with this type of behaviour. Now, you can have this back after you’ve finished folding the laundry.”

The man was still obviously upset about what I had said to his wife. For someone who looked like he couldn’t bench press the metal bar that holds the weights, the man had a surprising strength to him. Still, I looked at him with clear challenge, my mouth turned into a tiny grin, “Well, maybe I don’t want it back.”

Thomas quickly retorted, “Then, you can just go to your room until it is time for lunch.”

I shrugged my shoulders and then started off toward my room. On my bedroom door, my wannabe parents had hung what looked like a homemade stuffed version of my name, patterned in cute pink block letters and sitting on an equally fluffy looking cloud.

Thomas said pleasantly, clearly trying to get back on my good side. “Do you like it? We got it specially made just for you, Kaylee. It only just arrived yesterday.”

The words popped almost immediately into my head and completely bypassed my seemingly non-existent filter. “It’s pretty.” It was, as loathe as I was to admit it, looking like the logo to my own TV show or something.

Thomas said, “I’m glad you like it. Kathryn and I want to do everything we can to make you feel like this is your home now. But that also includes taking part in the weekly chores. And uh, it will be fun too. Don’t you think it will be fun to help?”

It shouldn’t have been, but like the fucking vegetable washing the other day, the prospect of helping, once it had been explained, did seem like a lot of fun. Doing the things that Kathryn and Thomas were doing would make me feel like more of a grown up too. It was fun to pretend, but this was real, and somehow that was more fun. I turned from my bedroom and took an experimental step toward the laundry basket.

Thomas motioned toward the laundry, “Good girl. Here, I’ll even show you how to fold the clothes. It’s not hard.”

Like a dog, I immediately perked up at the words ‘good girl’. Deep down inside, beneath the layers of what remained of my fractured masculinity, something stirred. A great lumbering beast, with twin pigtails and a bouncy, happy smile, heard those words and devoured them, but it was a morsel, and the beast wanted a never-ending feast. It was too late by the time I realized the happy smile was plastered on my face.

I was being attacked on all sides- the desire for praise and to receive that praise by helping, circumventing my usual defences. Greg and Eve never really praised me for anything. I mean they wouldn’t have thanked me for something completely mundane or said I was a good girl, not if they wanted to continue breathing normally. Mrs. Feinstein wasn’t one to heap praise either, but when she did, I reacted similarly. It was obvious, however, that since I arrived in Twin Falls, and I was really being treated like a child, I was regressing. The same thing had happened in the studio even before Ashley’s memory wipe.

Realizing that I could avoid further issues by actually doing as Thomas was asking, I quickly moved over to the basket and let him demonstrate to me how to fold. Considering how easily my emotions turned from calm stream to raging tidal wave capable of drowning all of humanity, I knew I needed to be cautious. I didn’t want another incident like what happened in the grocery store.

“Okay, I get it. Now, promise me one thing. Just let me sit here and fold this and don’t say a word. I don’t want to hear how good of a job I’m doing. I’m folding stupid laundry, not like curing cancer or something. Deal?”

Thomas peered down at me. He first looked flabbergasted, with his head twisting and his right eye twitching slightly. Eventually though, he smiled. “Deal.” He even reached out his hand for me to shake.

That morning, I saw Thomas in a new light. As I folded the laundry, the man, who probably could afford a cleaning person, swept around my feet and dusted the bookshelves, and deep within, the mind of a little girl percolated with ideas and new understanding.

***

“Kaylee. Kayley, honey. It’s time to get up.”

I grumbled and attempted to bury my head in Elsa’s face. My legs pulled up into my body, forming a protective cocoon against intrusion. What the fuck did Kathryn want? Normally, they just let me sleep.

“Kaylee, come on, you don’t want to be late for your first day of school, do you?”

My eyes fluttered open, or rather they shot open with the speed of a bullet leaving its chamber. The sun peeked into my room, causing my eyes to retreat, the lids providing protection against the intensity of the rays. I knew what day it was, but I had tried to put it out of my head. Kathryn and Thomas hadn’t stopped talking about it, mentioning how much I would like it. How many friends I would make, and of course, what I would learn.

There was an inevitability to my transition to Twin Falls Collegiate and in general, a return to school life. For a man who spent most of his adolescent and adult life running from his problems, here I had no choice. I couldn’t work or run away. If I had been a teenager like Ms. Daniels, then I could have become a runaway, but six year old girls didn’t run away. A teenager wouldn’t be asked a million questions, although paramount among them, where are your parents, when are you are parents coming back, and do you want me to help you find your parents. To the outside world, I was weak, needing protection, the structure of school, after school care and constant supervision would soon become routine.

Going to school wasn’t a battle I could win. I was going, whether I liked it or not, but I was going on my terms.

I felt Kathryn’s hand on my back as my entire body attempted to retreat under the covers, worming away rapidly from the offending hand. Kathryn chuckled lightly, “You know if you keep wriggling like that, you’ll fall right out of bed.” Her voice was firmer as she spoke, “Now, it’s time to get up. And here look at the dress I got you. Isn’t it pretty? I have a couple new ones I got you, just for your first day.”

Again, like a dog that listens for sit and roll-over, my attention was piqued at the mention of the dress and the fact that it was pretty. The words had taken permanent residence within my mind now, cementing themselves as part of what was becoming common vernacular. My imagination immediately kicked in, picturing voluminous ball gowns with long gloves and puffy sleeves.

Kathryn said, “Come on now, I promise that you’ll look like a little princess.” This word too had entered my vocabulary. Previously, I had used it in a derogatory sense, especially toward Greg, who insisted on wearing rubber gloves while he did the dishes. Now, however, it was something that a part of me strived to be. I understood that princesses, real princesses were rare. And actually becoming one was a near impossibility, but the little girl who was waking up inside me desperately wanted to be one.

Moments later, the covers were pulled unceremoniously from my slight body. I felt soft material brush against my cheek and when I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an overeager Kathryn and a dress that looked to fit the image of the preppy Kaylee Patterson perfectly. Gentle ruffles formed what almost looked like a small rectangular theatre with four shiny silver buttons at the centre. The material was thick, almost like thin curtains, but it still had a softness to it. My eyes widened with my face lighting up in what could likely only be described as delight as I saw the skirt portion. It was pinkish semi-translucent with white polka dots, and this fact seemed to raise my spirits, making me desperately want to try it on.

This joy, splayed on my features like one of the bikini models on the cover of my dad’s old car mags, caused Kathryn to have some sort of facial orgasm. She beamed, and her body filled with such energy that she looked like a teenager again.

Kathryn said, “I knew you’d love it the moment I saw it, Kaylee.”

Fear began to creep into my mind as I realized how quickly Kaylee was materializing. If I was going to survive, if Ryan was going to survive- I needed to do things my way, and that included choosing how I dressed. Most of my clothes were preppy as fuck, but they didn’t scream, “Oh my god, that little girl is the cutest thing ever in the history of life.” It bothered me too that it was similar to prep school outfits I had seen but never worn while I went to school in Germany.

Kathryn said excitedly, “I’ll do your hair too. Then, we’ll take a picture of you in your dress and post it on Facebook so everyone can see it!”

I shook my head rapidly, tearing my gaze away from the dress. Words bubbled to the surface, but instead of fierce opposition, I only managed to squeak, “I-I don’t want to wear that.”

Kathryn said, “What do you mean, honey? I thought you loved it.” Without waiting for me to answer, she asked, “Is it because it’s the first day of school? There’s nothing to be scared of, Kaylee. You’ll make lots of friends.”

I said firmly, “I don’t want any friends.”

Kathryn frowned, “I don’t think you mean that, Kaylee. You’re probably just nervous. Does it feel like little butterflies flying around in your tummy?”

I ignored Kathryn and scampered out of bed toward my dresser. With a quick heave and a grunt, I forced open the overflowing bottom dresser drawer and started riffling through the clothes.

Kathryn said with clear disappointment in her voice, “If you don’t like that dress, there’s others in your closet.”

I turned and glared at the woman, “Why is it so important to you that I wear a fucking dress? Do we need to get Agatha on the phone?”

Kathryn cleared her throat awkwardly, likely trying to fill the silence that grew as she determined her response. “I-It’s not. You can wear what you like, Kaylee. But please hurry up. I don’t want you to be late for your first day.” I had a feeling that considering Kathryn’s temperament, she didn’t want to be late either. Hunger pangs pinched lightly, so I decided to forego my clothing selection until after breakfast.

As I ate, I couldn’t push the dress from my mind, how I would look in it, and what others would say, those magic words that sent a little tingle up my spine- how I wanted to hear them. Everything in my drawer seemed boring compared to the ruffles and the pretty shiny silver buttons. After breakfast, I trudged back to my room, intending to choose something from my drawer, but immediately upon entering the room, my eyes darted toward the dress, which Kathryn had likely strategically hung from the handle of my closet door.

“Kaylee, how come you aren’t dressed yet?” It was Thomas. He was wearing a suit, whose jacket hung loosely over his narrow shoulders. He said, “You’ve been up here for twenty minutes. Now choose, or I’ll choose for you.”

Kathryn peeked her head in, “I don’t understand why she won’t just wear the dress I got her. You should have seen the look on her face when I showed it to her. She loved it. She looked like she did when she saw our car for the first time.”

Thomas shrugged, “I-I don’t know, Kat.”

Kathryn said, “That’s not exactly helpful. And with her independent streak, I highly doubt she’s going to let you choose her clothes. Besides, I don’t think she should take fashion advice from someone who still wears his uncle’s old suits. How come you won’t wear that suit I bought you, the charcoal one?”

Thomas leaned down and put his hand on my shoulder, “Please choose something quickly, Kaylee.” He looked back to Kathryn, “It’s just- it doesn’t feel right. The pants are too tight.”

Kathryn shook her head, “That’s the style, Thomas. Besides, they looked –really- good. You are swimming in that suit.”

Fighting the urge to wear the dress, I finally managed to choose a simple pair of khaki shorts and a polo shirt. Kathryn and Thomas both left the room while I dressed. At the bottom of the stairs, a Frozen-themed backpack awaited me, along with a Frozen-themed cloth lunch bag. These people had Disney stock- I was fucking sure of it. I sighed lightly and slung the bag over my shoulder, while tightly clutching my dad’s pin in my right hand.

“Okay. Kaylee. Smile! Time for the picture. We’ll take one on the first day of school every year. You’ll be able to see how big you are getting.” Kathryn excitedly waved her smartphone in front of me.

I sighed, “And you can show me off like some kind of new puppy to all your Facebook friends and all the aunts I haven’t met. I’m not really in the mood.”

Thomas said gently, “It’s just a picture, Kaylee. And I can tell you that it’s going to happen either way. I know Kathryn. You think I wanted to take fifteen different pictures in one pose for our wedding? So it can be a nice picture. Or it can feature the grumpiest little girl in the world.”

Kathryn grinned, “He’s right. But it’s because he kept doing this thing with his lip.”

Kathryn and Thomas attempted to get me to laugh, making silly faces and even sillier voices, but my lip didn’t budge. There was, after all, no joy in the moment for me- knowing that I was going to a place that could destroy what remained of my real self.

Thomas sighed lightly, “Well, I think Grumpy Cat has some new competition.” Kathryn and Thomas laughed, while I fumed internally. Kathryn attempted a few more pictures before herding me out the door toward the car.

***

Twin Falls Collegiate loomed before me. The building itself looked a little like a small castle, but it didn’t have the impenetrable feeling. No, clearly it was meant to be welcoming. It was similar to the boarding school I had attended in Germany, but instead of the grim outer layer with its fading brick and unwelcome grey walls, the school had multi-coloured bricks and chalk drawings clearly done by children- the stick arms and legs made it fucking obvious. The posts holding up the entry way were painted a bright yellow, while the turrets, which should have been imposing, melded with the sky in clear bright blue.

Both Kathryn and Thomas walked me to the door and then toward a classroom, which was the second door to the left. The halls bustled with activity, a strange dichotomy with parents wandering halls meant for children, some looking eager, perhaps pleased that summer was over- while others looked terrified, holding their children tightly by the hand, unwilling to allow them to reach this milestone.

Again, this day was an inevitability to me, so I went about the trip focused on the task at hand- keep Ryan Sullivan alive. I placed my dad’s pin in the pocket of my shorts, readying it for recess. My actions were systematic. I had thought this through.

The door leading to the classroom was covered in multi-coloured polka dots. Patches of glitter, haphazardly placed on each dot, shone brightly underneath the fluorescent lights. There was little rhyme or reason to how the sparkles were placed, which meant a lazy adult had scrambled to decorate the classroom at the last minute, or a child had completed the project.

Other parents walked their children into the classroom, but Kathryn and Thomas seemed ready to let me enter at my own pace. As more and more of the children entered the class, I started to feel anxious. The worry over how I would survive being surrounded by children all day, without stabbing my dad’s pin in my hand, was superseded by concerns that shouldn’t have existed within the mind of Ryan Sullivan. It was something I had felt for a brief moment when I heard the happy voices of Emma and Sophia as they skipped rope outside Greg and Eve’s apartment, but encircled as I was now by children my physical age, I worried that the pretty girls, many of them in dresses like the one I had refused, wouldn’t want to be my friends.

If I said something only Ryan would say, would they think I was weird? Would they want to play with me?

The bell rung, but instead of the clattering dring-dring, like a hundred old rotary phones ringing at once inside a metal enclosure, there was a sonorous almost soothing chime.

“Everything will be OK, Kaylee.” It was Kathryn’s voice, almost as calming as the bell.

The hallway had emptied quickly. I looked around, and outside other doorways, there were stragglers, but even they soon disappeared. My feet, however, wouldn’t budge. Thomas leaned down to eye level and said, “What’s wrong, Kaylee? Do you want us to go inside with you?”

I shook my head rapidly, fearing that the other kids would call me a baby for needing mommy and daddy. It wasn’t really fair that all the other kids knew each other, and I didn’t know anyone. Of course, such thoughts went directly against my plan of ignoring all the kids and hoping they would leave me alone, but the more I thought about it- the more it bothered me. And the more I thought about it, the faster my heart would race.

This should have been far easier. After all, I had been the new kid in school so many times, but there I was, hiding behind Kathryn, terrified to take a step inside the class. My carefully laid plan of being the aloof cool girl who doesn’t talk to anyone was unravelling before my eyes. Fuck. The other kids were going to call me a baby. Like in second grade when I cried because I didn’t get the right juice. The memory and the realization that I was acting like a complete child only exacerbated my anxiety.

“Kaylee?” A pleasant yet careful voice asked from the doorway to the classroom. While higher than one might expect for an adult, it lacked the sing-song torturous tone of Musica’s voice. Excited chatter filled the room ahead of me. Groups of children congregated, waving coloured cards back and forth. Girls shrieked and bounced forming multiple semi-circles. The boys did the same. Only a few broke the gender barrier, but mostly from necessity. All the children clearly wanted to be part of a group, and as I watched the excitement, the force that kept my little white sandals stuck fast to the floor weakened.

“Kaylee? Would you like to join us?” I looked up at the woman who was speaking and saw my new teacher for the first time. No other person other than a mental patient who had previously been a fashion designer would wear something as bold as a dress covered in big multi-coloured polka dots or a necklace featuring plastic apples, bananas and pears. The skirt itself flowed down to her ankles, the crudely sewn polka dots actually sticking out from the fabric as if the designer was attempting to create a 3D effect.

She had frizzy, kind of funny looking hair and thick fire engine red glasses. The woman was probably in her forties, but with how she dressed, it was hard to tell. In her left hand, she had a small pack of multi-coloured cards, which she proceeded to hold out to me.

Kathryn said, “Go on, sweetie. It looks like fun.” There was a certain eagerness to her voice, which I chalked up to impatience.

I tentatively reached out my hand, and the teacher, whose bright white name tag read Mrs. Carmichael, firmly placed them in my grasp. A quick scan of the cards revealed that they depicted a range of activities from different sports to dance to music.

Mrs. Carmichael smiled as her entire body seemed to bubble with enthusiasm. It was unfortunately contagious, and I found myself smiling too. The woman reeked of energy, and with an excited flurry, she directed me toward the classroom, “I think you’ll love this game, Kaylee. It’s really easy. Just pick out the cards that best describe the things you like to do, and then go and find a friend with that same card. It’s fun!” She punctuated her final words with a wave of her hands.

I knew that acting like a child would lead me further down the path toward actually becoming Kaylee. It had happened to Mark and Devon in the studio, but with Ashley- it had to have been different. She was erased and transformed into Madison after a week at the so-called ‘camp’. She had been surrounded by children, just like I was. Is that all it would take for me? Could I participate in the classroom activities without losing myself further? I would keep my dad’s pin close at all times, but would I get it in time? The pin had saved me from Barbie brain before, but an entire class of kids? It seemed like an insurmountable task, and one where, like so many others things in my life, I would ultimately fail.

Still, I had held on this long, and I was the last left. As long as I knew who I was and kept enough of Ryan alive, I was still beating the serum. It didn’t matter that I knew none of the kids, and it certainly didn’t fucking matter if any of them wanted to be friends with me. I strode into the classroom with this attitude and joined in the simple game. Kathryn and Thomas said their goodbyes, but I ignored them. Thankfully, the game was harmless. In fact, most of what we did during the morning was completely harmless. They were ice breaker games and going over the classroom rules. There were things that excited the part of me that was Kaylee, but the excitement was never enough to sink fully within a childlike mindset, but I knew recess was coming. The laughter of children, swing sets and play structures, maybe even skipping ropes.

Eventually, the pleasant chime rang, but it might as well have been a siren, the sound perfectly representing the emergency situation that I faced.

“Walking feet, boys and girls!” This caused some of children to stop in their tracks, especially those who had raised their legs into a sprint toward the door.

Mrs. Carmichael walked over to the door and then watched as the class slowly made their way over to the brightly coloured feet stuck firmly to floor. Some of the students giggled as they tried to fit their small feet in the large feet stickers. Obviously, the feet were to help the children line up whenever they left the classroom. It seemed unnecessary, but then I had never tried to teach twenty five first graders, so what the fuck did I know.

We walked single file through the halls, and as we did, my heart pounded. I remembered how it was just with Emma, Sophia and their skipping rope, and how much I wanted to join them. What was I going to do with an entire playground? Thankfully, though, Twin Falls was small enough that the kids outside all seemed to know each other. No one tried to be my friend, and while I did feel the intense desire to go up and down slides, to play red-light-green-light or just to be confined within a group of kids- girls, I managed to fight the temptation with a few quick pricks from my dad’s pin. I smartly decided to put it in my pocket, so whenever the urge struck, I just had to push against my short pocket for the anti-stimulation.

We returned from recess in single file. Everything about primary school revolved around routine. It was clear that the children in the class thrived on it, and while I just went along for the ride, there was something oddly comforting about the consistency of the quickly established rules. I should have been more outraged at the sudden lack of freedom, but again, it wasn’t surprising. Children had to ask to go to the bathroom and for a drink of water. They were told to use inside voices and walking feet, and Mrs. Carmichael- she was a master of it all.

As the children talked excitedly about their play, and what they planned to do for lunch and after school (some even continued their games from outside), Mrs. Carmichael raised a hand and said, “Holy!”

Most of the children chimed back, “Guacamole!” With all eyes on Mrs. Carmichael, she said, “Okay, boys and girls, take your seats.” This was one of the first things Mrs. Carmichael taught the class, and while it was originally met with laughter, the children soon understood that at the end of each activity the hand was raised and the first part of the silly phrase was uttered. It worked perfectly to gain the attention of the children, and even I found myself at least standing at attention. This teacher clearly knew what she was doing.

The desks were two-by-two facing the board, but it wasn’t a regular chalk board or even a white board. Mrs. Carmichael wrote on the board with a special pen, even animating a bird to fly across the screen, much to the delight of the class. Even I found myself paying attention to the board more than expected.

Each of the desks had a cardboard nameplate. My seat mate was a little girl who wore a dress similar to the one I had refused. Apparently, all the parents in this fucking town shopped at the same place. Throughout the lesson, I found myself taking sidelong glances at the garment, wondering what it would look like on me. Unsurprisingly, what we were learning was beyond simplistic. The worksheets, similar to those I had finished at Mrs. Feinstein’s, only took time because I still struggled with certain letters. The only saving grace of the day was the fact that Thomas was coming to get me so I would miss gymnastics. He had some meeting at the university about something that I didn’t give a fuck about.

I survived my first day with only a few small prick marks on my hip. Surprisingly, the kids didn’t bother with me, seemingly content to remain within their own established groups. Without some emotional breakdown, like the one at the beach, I wasn’t vulnerable to their excited cries at recess. Recess was seriously only about fifteen minutes anyway. Although maybe it was longer? Either way, I took this day as an absolute victory. It was a battle in the war, but the longer I lasted, the more my confidence would grow.

Anxious parents entered the school after the final bell, their children, in some cases, launching at them like guided missiles. Thomas loped in, still wearing the ill-fitting suit, looking like he had some bizarre growth spurt overnight. He waved awkwardly and smiled, approaching with the uncertainty of a deer, seemingly ready to bolt away at any moment.

“Hi, Kaylee! How was your day?” He said his first words with more enthusiasm than expected, but he quickly dialed it down after that.

I replied, “It was fine. Let’s go.”

Thomas reached out his hand to grasp mine, but I pulled it away. The man looked momentarily saddened, his head drooping and chest sagging, but he quickly straightened his posture. “So, do you like your teacher? Did you make any friends?”

I shrugged my shoulders and slung the Frozen-themed backpack over my shoulder, “She’s OK. Can we go?” Thomas nodded and led me out to the car. It would be a short trip back to the house, but with all the questions, it would feel like a millennia.

Strapped safely into my booster seat, Thomas pulled out of the parking lot. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief, both pleased with myself over the success of the day and glad that I was missing gymnastics.

Thomas asked, “You didn’t answer me about your friends. Did you make any friends?”

I replied, “Sure. Lots of them.”

Thomas said, “Your teacher mentioned that you sat by yourself during both recesses and at lunch. Are you OK, Kaylee? You don’t need to lie. It can be hard to make friends at a new school.”

How ironic, considering I was practically a master at that very thing, having started at multiple new schools. Whereas Ryan was boisterous, Kaylee was subdued and shy, a perennial wallflower.

Thomas continued, “Did you talk to any kids? Or try and play with them?” I could feel Thomas and his analytical mind, full of hundreds of parenting articles, going through a mental checklist to determine the root of the problem.

I said truthfully, “Well, there was one group of kids. They were playing Frozen. But I didn’t want to play with them.”

Thomas asked, “How come? I thought you liked Frozen.” He added with a hint of laughter, “Most of the time.”

I shook my head, “They came over to me, and they wanted me to be Olaf, but I didn’t want to be Olaf. I mean, who would want to be a talking snow man?” To be fair, there had been an argument over who was going to be Elsa, with three girls all wanting to be her, but since I was new, I was relegated to being a fucking magic snow man.

I mean, maybe if they had asked me to be Elsa, I would have thought about it. With sudden realization, I applied pressure to the pin in my pocket, forcing a tiny yelp from my mouth.

I watched the scenery pass, but instead of whipping by, it practically meandered. Thomas stopped at every single stop sign, actually stopped. In LA, people constantly ran red lights, just trying to inch their way into seemingly endless traffic snarls. So, I wasn’t exactly used to the two-point stops.

“You know this thing has a V8 engine. You could actually kick it into fifth gear sometimes.” The car actually had a sixth gear, but Thomas was barely going fast enough for fourth.

Thomas replied, “We’ll get there all the same.”

“You aren’t going to get pulled over going ten over. Ten under maybe. Come on, you’ve got tractors passing you.”

Thomas snorted, “It’s not that bad.”

Suddenly, the car lurched forward, pulling heavily to the right. There was clearly something wrong with the alignment of the vehicle. I had noticed it before, but I just thought Thomas was a really shitty driver. Unfortunately, the slight veer caused the SUV to bounce over a deep pothole, causing both driver and passenger to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Thomas quickly regained control of the vehicle, but it was obvious something was wrong. The car kicked up gravel and shifted left and right. I heard a definite clicking sound coming from the front left tire, and it only grew more pronounced the longer we drove. Thomas slowed to a crawl and eventually pulled off to the side of the road.

Thomas left the car and walked around it, leaving me alone in my fucking booster seat. Moments later, I heard muffled yelling. I knew exactly what the issue was. The SUV had a flat, and Thomas, who couldn’t adjust a door hinge, fix a rotten step, tighten a shower faucet, likely couldn’t change a tire. The man was red faced and kicking up gravel, and likely swearing like the typical adolescent FPS player after getting one-shotted.

I unbuckled myself from the booster. There was a moment of surprise as I freed myself, realization that I could have fled the humiliating device at any point. It was likely Kathryn’s presence that kept my butt firmly planted to the seat. While I could move around in the car, I couldn’t open the door due to the child locks. I was forced to crawl to the front of the car to let myself out the passenger door.

“Kaylee! Get back in the car! It’s dangerous out here!” Thomas walked toward me as if trying to protect me from a nuclear bomb blast with his arms outstretched to non-existent traffic.

I said, “It’s not exactly rush hour, man. Just calm down. So you got a flat, just fix it.”

Thomas furrowed his brow, “There’s no cell service here. I can’t call anyone. And now I’m going to miss my meeting with the Dean of Social Sciences.”

I shook my head, “It’s not my fault you decided to live in a town with such shitty reception. But look why don’t-“

Thomas said, “Back in the car, Kaylee. I don’t want you running into the road. Here, take my phone and play a game while I try and figure this out.” I glared at the man as he handed me his phone. What was I fucking dog, bolting in the road after some squirrel? Frank had probably offered to show Thomas how to change a tire, but he likely made some excuse about writing.

Thomas was just like Greg in this respect- a poor excuse for a man, clueless about anything mechanical. And changing a tire wasn’t even mechanical. It was something everyone should know. Tired of useless know-nothing men, I hopped back into the car and quickly looked up a video on the phone titled, “How to change a tire”.

Thomas opened the driver’s side door, “Kaylee, here we’ll walk a bit and see if we can get some reception.”

I shook my head firmly, “I want to see you change the tire.”

Thomas frowned deeply, “I’m not good with this type of stuff. I’m sorry, Kaylee.” The look on his face was pure defeat, and his face actually reddened with actual shame. “It doesn’t mean you won’t be. I’m sure Frank- Mr. Milner could show you some things. If you are interested in learning.”

Nonplussed, I crossed my arms over my chest, “For a person who works at a university, you aren’t very interested in learning yourself. I watched this video. Come on, I’ll explain what you need to do, and you just follow.” I hadn’t actually watched the video, since there was no internet, but I needed Thomas to think I had. Few six year old probably knew how to use a tire iron or understood the required PSI.

Thomas looked uncertain. He removed his glasses and tapped them lightly against the side of his head, “I-I’m just not sure I can.” He cleared his throat, and his normally hunched frame was bolstered by sudden strength, “But I guess it can’t hurt to try. It won’t be the first or last time I embarrass myself in front of you.” This caused a little giggle to escape my lips, a tiny gasp of air quickly squelched.

I instructed Thomas to remove the tire iron from the back of the car. The spare tire was located in the same place, and he also managed to drag the spare to the side of the car. I looked at the damaged tire and lodged deep within was a sharp rock, the obvious culprit of the flat.

“Okay, now you have to place the jack under the car. Yeah, that’s it. Right there in that little lip.” It would have been a humourous scene, a little girl in pretty white sandals sitting next to her father, showing him how to jack up a vehicle. My tiny hands gripped the tire iron. I placed it in the jack and proceeded to crank it. Thomas took over and watched with fascination as the front of the car slowly lifted up.

“Wow, you got all of that from just watching a video, Kaylee? Unbelievable.” His eyes moved back and forth mechanically, as if trying to determine just how off the scale smart I actually was. He added, “You have an incredible capacity to learn, and the way you absorb information, it’s just-“

I pointed at the tire iron and said, “Okay. Fine. But this isn’t getting you to your meeting. Now comes the fun part. Time to get the flat off.”

Thomas frowned, “It won’t budge.”

I said with a smile, “This is the fun part. You’ve gotta kick the shit out of it, put all your weight down on it through your foot.”

By the time Thomas had the third wheel nut off, he was grinning from ear to ear, and also incredibly red faced. He wasn’t, however, the only one. I actually sincerely enjoyed my time with Thomas, who, despite his initial misgivings, was a quick study himself. It reminded me of the time I spent with my own dad, how he would show me how to fix cars, and the way, the very way I demonstrated to Thomas was how my dad had taught me.

Thomas, now breathing heavily after lifting the spare and tightening it, slid down the side of the car onto his butt. He continued smiling, even though obviously fatigued. “Um, thanks, Kaylee. You know for getting me to do that. I think maybe I’ll be able to do the snow tires this year without bringing them to Frank’s.”

I clambered back into my booster seat, a seemingly permanent satisfied grin plastered on my face. Seconds later, we were off, but as we drove down the highway, I felt the car gradually speed up. Thomas put his hand on the gear shift, bringing the SUV into fifth gear for what seemed like the first time. The engine hummed as the vehicle gripped the concrete.

It could have just been because Thomas was worried about being late for his meeting, but the firm almost crushing way a person grips the wheel when late was absent. He also wasn’t frantic like Eve, who thrust her head forward, rapidly looking up and down, acting like some hyper-vigilant bobble head. No, this was a man driving his car in the way it was meant to be driven and actually enjoying it. As the trees and road signs whipped past at an increasing rate, my lips remained curled in a smile.

***

“How come you have shoes like that?”

It was the first thing any kid had said to me in the classroom. When I had started at a new school, and especially if my class clowning wasn’t making me any friends, I naturally converged on other new kids. It was like a new kid safety net, but here in this tiny town, I was the only one. Apparently, and unfortunately, I wasn’t invisible, and my seat mate, a little girl with two long braids and another pretty dress had taken notice. This one flowed outward and was perfect for twirling. The kid was dressed like some kind of expensive doll, but I couldn’t help but again wonder what I would look like wearing the same thing.

Without waiting for me to respond, she said, “You can’t tie your shoes?” There was amusement in her voice. On her feet, she had a pair of little boots, neatly tied in big loops that draped over the side of the shoe.

Here, I figured she would ask me my name and maybe try and be my friend. I was quickly realizing, however, that not all kids were created equal. The desperation of the mousey Brianna, the inclusiveness of Sophia- it was all absent within this little mean girl.

I shrugged my shoulders lightly and answered, “Well you know it’s like cars, right? A different one each day.” The kids who attended Twin Falls collegiate obviously came from money. Everyone was dressed in a similar way, different variations of people either going on a boat, building a boat, going to boat-related parties- whatever it was- it was preppy as fuck.

The little girl said bluntly, “You had the same shoes yesterday too.” She grinned and narrowed her eyes, “Are you a baby? Can’t tie your shoes? I learned in kindergarten.”

I replied caustically, “Listen, you little fucking bitch, unless you want a pretty black eye, leave me the fuck alone.”

In a sing-song voice, the little girl said, “Mrs. Carmichael, Kaylee said some bad words!”

Mrs. Carmichael walked over, “Yes, Ava, I heard.” The teacher walked over to a chart and put a sad face next to my name. “Kaylee, you know the rules. It’s not polite or very nice at all to use words like that. If you’re a good girl for the rest of the day, I’ll take it off.”

Of course, Mrs. Carmichael hadn’t noticed that Ava was teasing me, so no sad face for her. I stewed in my seat, and then I realized that I didn’t fucking care about happy or sad faces. Or at least I shouldn’t. As a lesson about number sequences continued, Ava said quietly, “Baby can’t tie her shoes.” My first instinct should have been to punch her in the mouth. We were both little kids, so I wasn’t exactly picking on someone bigger than me. Instead, however, her insult seeped deep within, filling the crevices of self-doubt that had formed in my mind and giving rise to Kaylee’s burgeoning personality. I retorted loudly, “Am not a baby!”

Her words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did, but there was absolute truth to her statement. I couldn’t tie my shoes. In the studio, I had always worn slip-ons, Velcro or buckled shoes. With the loss of all muscle memory, it would be a slog to learn. I inwardly cringed at potentially having to ask Thomas or Kathryn how to tie my fucking shoes. Maybe a YouTube video?

Mrs. Carmichael said sternly, “Kaylee, please stop interrupting the lesson. And Ava stop teasing Kaylee. Everyone learns at a different pace.” I was surprised, but thankful, to see that the teacher went over to the behaviour board and placed a sad face next to Ava’s name. I felt instant satisfaction that stayed with me for the rest of the day.

There was no business meeting for Thomas, so I wouldn’t be saved from gymnastics again. Once school ended, a bubbly brunette in a skin-tight leotard picked myself, Ava and another girl up from class and marched us enthusiastically toward the gymnasium. For what amounted to a small-town school, the gym was impressive. Again, Twin Falls had money- that much was clear. The gym was laid out for a gymnastics course with balance beams, a vault, bars, a trampoline and mats scattered everywhere. There were even rings, which no six year old would have the upper body strength to use. Of course, we weren’t the only ones using the equipment. Our small group was soon joined by other children, all led by leotard wearing teenage girls. The brunette who had led my group to the gym handed a small package to me, containing, unsurprisingly, my own leotard.

“No! I don’t want to! Let me go!”

“It’ll be fun, you’ll see, Conner.”

“No, you can’t make me!”

I watched as a frustrated blonde girl, probably about fifteen, slowly pulled a little boy by the arm toward me. Ava and the other girl had presumably gone to get changed. I recognized him from my class, and as one of the boys who sat and watched the six-grade boys play football every recess. Kid obviously wanted to play, but he was too young. And now this poor bastard was stuck taking gymnastics.

“Kaylee? It’s Kaylee, right?”

The brunette was trying to get my attention. I nodded dumbly as I watched the blond pull Conner toward me. The brunette said, “Kaylee, go put on your leotard please. We’re going to start soon. It’s going to be so much fun!”

I sighed lightly and considered my options. Fighting the teens would lead them to telling Kathryn or Thomas that I wasn’t being cooperative, and it could further impact my screen privileges (fuck as if I had started calling it that?!), meaning that I wouldn’t be able to see if Eve had answered my e-mail. At the same time, gymnastics was so fucking girly. I had images of tiny girls competing in the Olympics, their bodies lithe but boyish, twirling ribbons and prancing to shitty music. I knew the difference between regular and rhythmic, but the latter had burned itself into my mind, and it was how I saw it in general.

It didn’t matter that what I saw unfolding before me was actual athletics and challenging athletics. It didn’t matter that the older gymnasts were performing back flips on the trampoline or practically flying through the air after releasing a bar suspended probably six or seven feet in the air only to land perfectly on the ground in a triumphant pose. None of it fucking mattered, because it was for girls.

Conner said, “I’m not wearing that. You can’t make me.”

The blond said, “Who’s your favourite superhero, Conner?”

Conner replied, “Spider-man. Why?” The little boy looked at the girl suspiciously.

The blond said, “He wears a costume, right? Well to be able to move around and do all those cool moves, he can’t wear normal clothes. Look, I even have some red shorts you can put over your outfit.”

The brunette added with a smile, “You’ll be a Spider-man in training with us, Conner. You’ll even get to climb a wall.”

Conner said, “Really? Just like Spider-man?”

The girls nodded, “Yup! Just like Spider-man.”

A few seconds later, Conner headed off into the boys’ changing room, leaving me impressed with the level of manipulation exhibited by the teenage girls.

The brunette said, “Kaylee? Hurry up now and get changed, you don’t want to miss any class, right?” That was it? She just assumed that I would be all OMG I can’t wait to do this gymnastics shit? What, just because I was a girl?

The girl added, “Look at how cute Ava is in her leotard, Kaylee. And Addison. And look at mine, it has pretty sparkles on it. If you listen today in class, I’ll tell you how you can put some glitter on yours to make it really pretty.”

I groaned inwardly and stomped off toward the girls’ change room, not because I wanted my leotard to have pretty sparkles but because participating meant retaining screen privileges. If I could figure out a way to unlock the KIDS mode on my phone, then I could check my e-mail any time I wanted. That meant actually having access to it though.

I returned a few minutes later, wearing something similar to a one-piece bathing suit. It was, of course, bright neon pink, looking like I had been attacked by sentient, angry bubble gum. Maybe a slight exaggeration. Still, at least I wasn’t Conner. He had on a pair of small red shorts that revealed his thin legs, and a skin-tight tank top that made him look more ballet dancer than super hero.

“You look stupid too you know.”

I blinked, not realizing at first that I was smirking at the boy. “I’m pretty sure you’ve taken that prize. And you know they were lying to you, right? You aren’t old enough to do any of that stuff.”

Conner replied, “Shut up. Why don’t you just go be with the stupid girls?”

I shrugged, “I don’t like Ava, and I’m pretty sure I don’t like gymnastics.”

Conner shook his head, “No way. You’re just lying. You just want to stay here and make fun of me.”

The blond and the brunette said excitedly, “Conner, Kaylee! Come and join us!”

While there was clearly a gender divide between us, which created a strange almost reverse magnetism, I still felt an affinity toward the boy. I realized as well, that I disliked Ava more than I initially thought. This fact would not leave my mind, so rather than go over there. I said, “I like Spider-man too.”

Conner blinked slowly, “I don’t know any girls that like Spider-man.”

I said, “Well you do now.”

Nothing the instructors could say would pry us apart. For the next forty five minutes, we went over the entire Marvel cinematic universe, and while I was talking to a six year old, I at least found someone who liked something I did. Conner was actually pretty cool for a little kid, and he knew a shit ton about Spider-man and the Avengers.

“Hulk would just throw a tank at him.”

Conner replied, “Yeah, but Spider-man is really fast. And he’s got lots of powers. He would see it and jump.”

I nodded, “Okay, but the Hulk is way stronger.”

Conner said, “Yeah. Definitely. But Spider-man wouldn’t try and be stronger. He’s really smart. He’d do something to turn the Hulk back into a person.”

Excited shrieks permeated our discussion, and I turned my head, watching as parents started slowly filtering into the gymnasium. Cries of “Watch me!” “Watch this, mommy!” “Look what I can do, daddy!” filled the space.

“Wow, great job, Ava! You’re really improving.” My head jerked in the direction of a well-dressed woman clapping her hands together at the sight of Ava slowly making her way across the balance beam. Instant jealousy punctured my thoughts, especially as a disappointed Kathryn also entered my view. I desperately wanted that same approval from Kathryn, but I was broken from my trance by Conner.

“You’re cool, Kaylee. Do you want to play Avengers and Spider-man at recess?”

As attractive as the offer was, I knew that I couldn’t. I would end up the exact same as Devon and Mark. Talking about it was one thing, but letting myself be drawn into a creative world where my imagination could take over was infinitely more dangerous.

“Uh. Sorry. I can’t.”

Conner asked, “Because the girls will make fun of you? For playing boy games?”

I nodded slowly, “Something like that.”

Conner shook his head, “That’s not fair.”

I nodded, “No, I guess it isn’t.”

By this point, Kathryn, who looked none too impressed, had made her way over. She said, “What do you mean she didn’t participate at all?” The blond girl shook her head and said, “Callie, I told you not to tell her that.”

Callie (the brunette whose name I now knew) said, “Mrs. Sharp told us to mention it to the parents, so they can talk to the kids. We can’t force them, and maybe they don’t want to do gymnastics.”

Conner asked, “Are you going to get in trouble?”

I nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

Conner said, “I wanted to take karate.”

I smiled, “Yeah, me too.”

***

“Well maybe the instructors are right. You have lived with her, right? Forcing her to do anything isn’t exactly easy.”

Kathryn replied, “That wasn’t part of the deal. We are paying for this, Thomas. She’s not doing karate, so the only other option is dance. Why do I have to be the bad guy with this stuff? The deal was that she does gymnastics and then we see about the karate. She does the winter break dance class. I don’t want her in some after school care where she just ends up watching movies the whole time. She needs an activity.”

Thomas sighed, “I’m just saying we have to approach this diplomatically. If she really doesn’t want to then we might have to look at alternatives.”

Kathryn said, “But she didn’t even try it. Her instructor said she sat there talking to a little boy the whole time.”

Kathryn looked at me disapprovingly, and if she had a pair of glasses that dipped onto her nose, she would have looked exactly like the elder Mrs. Feinstein, “Kaylee, until you start to participate in the classes, you aren’t getting your phone back, and you won’t have any screen privileges. Do you understand?”

I said more petulantly than expected with a firm stomp of my foot, “But that’s not fair!”

Kathryn replied, “What isn’t fair is that we are paying for something, and you won’t even try it out. You are breaking our deal.”

Thomas interjected, “Kaylee, please just try it out, OK? You might really like it. Let’s say you give it a shot for three classes, and you do everything your instructor asks you, and then if you still really don’t like it, we’ll talk about something else.”

I nodded and sighed lightly, “OK.” It’s not like gymnastics would screw with my mind to same way playing with a doll or kids my age would. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind how much I hated Ava. She was just…so mean! If she hadn’t been in the class, then maybe it would have been easier. Plus, I expected that Conner wasn’t going to last too much longer in the class, so I would lose my talking buddy.

Thomas smiled, “Good.”

***

Unsurprisingly, Conner wasn’t at gymnastics the next day, and thankfully Ava was absent too, so I was able to participate. I felt a sense of satisfaction as I started to creep across the balance beam for the first time. Callie was next to me, ready to catch me if I fell, but my heart jumped, filling with pride as I reached the half way point. Surprisingly, the class was a lot of fun, and as I watched the older girls especially, I began to imagine that was me, twisting and turning in the air, launching myself over a vault and landing with precision.

While I managed to get my screen time privileges back, a larger issue loomed. By Friday, while I had survived my first week in the classroom, I was bored out of my mind during recess. Not to say that the classroom wasn’t mostly boring, but at least Mrs. Carmichael was an engaging teacher. The worksheets were still beyond easy, but my slow writing made me fit in with the others. As for my problem, since my wannabe parents carefully controlled my cell phone, I couldn’t take it to school, so I was left watching children at play on a constant basis. With that, came a growing almost desperate desire to join them- one that even jabbing a pin into my leg couldn’t halt. Worst of all, Ava and her friends, who often skipped, were becoming an attractive target. I couldn’t understand it, but Ava’s pretty dresses and intricate hair-dos, and the way she talked, and the cute shoes she wore- it made me want to be her friend. She was so cool, especially her clothes. So, while hating her, I also wanted to hang out with her. Fucking girls made no sense.

I knew it was the serum, pushing me toward a group that would suffocate my remaining masculinity. Still, I had a plan that would hopefully distract me from this growing obsession.

“Hey, maybe you could bring a ball, instead of just watching them play all the time?”

Conner replied, “Well I guess I could.” As with most recesses, Conner was watching the six graders play touch football, with the odd tackle when the teachers weren’t watching.

I smiled, “Good. Bring one on Monday, and we’ll throw it around.”

Conner nodded, “OK. How come you want to play football? I thought girl-“

I interrupted, “Don’t finish that thought. Because I like it? That’s all you need to know.”

Conner grinned, “You’re cool, Kaylee. You’re not like my older sister. All she cares about is stupid One Direction. And how much she wants to meet them. And probably marry them.”

I nodded, “Your sister sounds lame. Now, who do you think would win between Spider-man and Superman?”

***

“If Callie can’t babysit then we shouldn’t go. We can just stay in, catch up on Game of Thrones and Walking Dead- have some wine.” Thomas added the last few words with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Kathryn shook her head, “I agree that Callie would have been best. She’s got Kaylee participating and actually enjoying gymnastics, but she’s not the only babysitter in town. I talked to Alexis, and she’s willing. And I’ve told you before that watching TV is not a date. Everything I’ve read says that we need to make time for ourselves too. And while I like doing those things with you, it’s not the same as a night out. Besides, if we stay in, you will just make an excuse to work.”

Thomas replied, “You know the deadline for the Iverson grant is coming up. That’s 10% of the university’s funding alone.”

Kathryn frowned, “You are driving yourself crazy with this, Thomas. I have read over the application, and it is absolutely sound. The university will get the money.”

Thomas said, “Alexis wouldn’t exactly be my first choice, and Kaylee- can be- well a bit of a handful.”

Kathryn nodded, “I know. But if we give Alexis clear instructions everything will be fine. She might be disinterested as a cashier, but she has babysat her little sister many times. I talked to her mom, and she seems to think Alexis will do fine with Kaylee. I admit that I was a bit hesitant at first, but ringing up groceries isn’t the same as taking care of kids.”

Thomas sighed lightly, “If they burn the house down, I’m blaming you.”

Kathryn laughed, “Sure. OK. I’ll accept that blame.”

I groaned, the reality of the situation quickly striking me like a brutal blitz that tears through the defensive line and concusses a quarterback. This wasn’t Mrs. Feinstein or Jessica looking after me, no this was the quintessential- the cliché- the teenaged girl as babysitter. I was a living breathing Nick at Night sitcom. I could, however, take advantage of the situation, especially with Thomas and Kathryn out. A plan quickly materialized.

Kathryn said, “You be good for Alexis, Kaylee. Do everything that she says. And if you are good, you and Alexis can watch a movie. And since it isn’t a school night, you can stay up and watch the whole thing. Sound good?”

I nodded, a little smile forming on my lips, “Very good.”

Kathryn smiled, “Good. Maybe you and Alexis can watch one of the Disney princess movies. I’ll leave them out.”

I replied excitedly, “Maybe we could watch Frozen!”

Kathryn raised a brow, “I thought you-“

Thomas interrupted, “Get with the times, Kat. This week is a Frozen week.”

***

“You’ve got our cell numbers. The number for poison control is on the fridge. The fire extinguisher is under the sink and-“

Thomas interrupted, “Relax, Kat. Everything is going to be fine. You’ve already gone through it once. And Alexis is a responsible girl. We are going to be late for the movie.” Once the babysitter had been confirmed, Kathryn returned to her anal Feinstein-like personality, worrying about every little thing. Apparently trusting the babysitter meant explaining everything a million times. Still, Thomas’ words halted Kathryn the same way a 12 gauge can stun a grizzly at 50 yards. I had seen it before. In bear country, you always want to carry a shotgun, and my dad stopped one in its tracks as it approached. He wounded it only, striking at the shoulder, and thankfully, it took off.

“Ryan, you wound and then you kill if it comes any closer than 50 yards. Put the slug through the head. It is your only chance.”

I imagined what Thomas would do when faced a bear. He would probably shit and piss his pants as it batted him around like a cat playing with a mouse, tearing and clawing at his flesh. Either that or he would hide behind Kathryn. And in terms of defending himself? The slight recoil from a 9MM would probably put Thomas flat on his back.

My dad taught me to respect nature as much as he taught me to fear it. When he saw me taking pot shots at ducks in a pond, he slapped the stupid out of me with the back his hand. Hunting was about the challenge- not how many you can bag in a day or a week. Every shot you took had to have a meaning- a purpose. It wasn’t about spraying and praying. And you had to show respect. You didn’t shoot chicks or hatchlings. And as for the fear, well I certainly learned that with the bear.

Kathryn quickly slung her purse over her shoulder and moved toward the door. She looked back toward Alexis, “Remember, Kaylee is to stay off our laptops. And she shouldn’t stay up past 9:30. She gets grumpy if she stays up too late, so only one movie.” For a movie, anywhere except the boat club or country club, Kathryn and Thomas were way overdressed. Thomas was seriously wearing a fucking sports coat, but it was Kathryn, but most specifically how she was dressed that caught my attention. A dark blue floral print skirt reached to just below her knee, while a frilly white blouse revealed trim, yet pale arms. A pearl necklace and matching bracelet adorned her wrist, while her long blond hair coyly hung over one shoulder. It was the pinnacle of preppy fashion. Alexis, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of light blue jeans and a polo shirt that gently hugged her slim frame. Her hair, dyed a deep almost crimson, was neatly tied in a ponytail. Like Kathryn, she wore jewellery, but it was a single charm bracelet that dangled with hearts, unicorns, puppies and what looked like ice skates.

Thomas gently cleared his throat, “Oh and have fun.”

Alexis smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson. Kaylee and me will have lots of fun tonight.”

Kathryn said, “Bye, sweetie. We love you. Be good for Alexis.” Fuck, she was trying too hard with this affection bullshit. I hadn’t even been her adopted daughter for two weeks, and she was treating me like she was my birth mother. I hadn’t even called her mom. She turned to Alexis and her mostly wrinkle-free face scrunched into a Feinstein-like mask, with furrowed brow and stern, firm mouth, “And you don’t hesitate to call or text us if anything goes wrong or if you have any questions. Anything at all.”

Thomas added, “Not anything. Just if you have any concerns.” I noticed that Thomas, at least over the last few days, had started to warm up to me, and he wasn’t a crazy helicopter parent. Sure, he was obviously following the books and articles, but he wasn’t trying to hold my hand crossing the street, telling me to look both ways, applying sun screen in a way to protect me from lava spewing from an active volcano.

Alexis nodded, “Gotcha. No play by play.”

I shrugged my shoulders, waved and within a few moments, it was only myself and Alexis, my teenaged babysitter for the evening. Unlike Jessica, Alexis hadn’t brought any crafts, toys or games, and I was frightened to admit that I was slightly- very slightly disappointed by this fact.

Alexis asked enthusiastically, while leaning down and clasping her hands together, “So, what would you like to do tonight, Kaylee? Do you want to start the movie? I could make us some popcorn. Or you could show me your room. I heard you have a really cool room.” Unlike Ashley, I didn’t have much experience with babysitters. Even though I was an only child, there were always kids at the base and other moms willing to watch me. To be honest, I don’t remember my parents ever really going on any date nights. They went to a few football games, and maybe the odd gun show, but my mom was never into that stuff. I didn’t really like to think of my mom and dad having some romantic life either. It’s not like they were very affectionate, so it was likely pretty rare anyway.

I replied, “Well I’d like to learn how to tie my shoes.”

The enthusiasm was sucked out of Alexis like a tire punctured by a gun shot. She was rapidly deflated, “Um. Ok. Well I can show you how to do that. How come you don’t want your mommy or daddy to show you?”

It was a good question. A matter of pride- a showing of weakness, simple embarrassment? Alexis was a perfect stranger, someone who I would see at the grocery store, but nothing beyond that. Kathryn and Thomas were my fake parents, playing a role devised by Ms. McDavid, and I didn’t want to give them something that would fit so well with the part I was expected to play. I don’t remember how I learned how to tie my shoes, but I’m sure my parents had taught me.

It really was simple though, they weren’t my parents. Never would be. And thinking of them that way would cloud my thoughts, pushing me away from the genuine feelings I had for Eve, and where Kaylee Patterson, shy yet smiling little girl was a reality.

I nodded, “Because I want you.” That was an acceptable answer for a six year old, and one that Alexis easily bought, especially with the wide smile that formed on her face, revealing a set of braces with pink elastics throughout. The girl had large eyes and a smallish mouth, so with her unnaturally bright red hair colour, she looked like a living breathing cartoon character.

I quickly brought Alexis a pair of Frozen shoes that Kathryn had bought for me. The shoelace tips glistened like ice, while happy snowflakes danced among the Anna and Elsa on the side of the shoe. I mean at least they were blue, but they were still girly as fuck.

Alexis smiled and slipped the shoe on my socked foot, “Okay, so you pull the tongue up first. Then, you get a good grip on the laces and pull them tight. This part’s tricky, but I’ll show you how I taught my little sister.”

I sighed inwardly, the humiliation of the moment resting heavily on my mind. While it bothered me that I couldn’t tie my shoes, it bothered me even more that every kid in my class could. As much as I would have liked to ignore my feelings, it also made me really mad when Ava called me a baby. I mean she was a fucking little kid, so I shouldn’t have been affected by it, but she was right- I was the only one who couldn’t do it.

I was a baby. Little Kaylee couldn’t tie her shoes.

Alexis frowned, “Are you OK, Kaylee? It looks like you went to Space Mountain there. Like I said this part is a bit tricky.”

I blinked and nodded slowly, “Yeah. Um. I’m fine.” Alexis smiled and proceeded to show me how to tie my shoes. As I watched her hands move methodically through each step, it seemed an impossible task. She just made it look so easy. I looked down at the laces, which sagged down over the sides of the shoes. Trying to tie them together to thin the fat looping bows only resulted in undoing them altogether.

Alexis said, “You won’t get it right away. It just takes practice, Kaylee.” I nodded sadly.

Alexis asked, “Did you want a snack? Your mommy said you could have some of these cookies. Or like I said, we could eat popcorn. I’d still love to see your Frozen room too. Did you know it is my favourite movie?”

I shook my head, “Those cookies are gross. They taste like sawdust and chocolate chips. If you ate one, you’d probably choke to death.”

Alexis looked at me with her massive eyes in obvious surprise, “Woah. Heavy stuff. Ok. No cookies then. Popcorn then?”

I nodded, “Yeah, but while you make it, I want to send an e-mail to granny.”

Alexis nodded, and I led her into the kitchen. I added, “But you can’t look because it’s a surprise for K- mommy’s birthday. I don’t want you to tell her about the present. OK?”

Alexis grinned and started opening kitchen cabinets, “OK, Kaylee. No problem.”

This was my moment. Alexis wasn’t an overzealous insane helicopter parent who would watch every keystroke, desperately trying to determine if some child predator was sending me e-mails, or worse yet, Eve and Greg- the people with whom I really wanted to live.

I booted up my e-mail, thankful that the computer login password was still the stupid cat who, like Kathryn, was doing its best to get me to love or even like it. I heard Alexis say something about kettle corn, but I was too busy reading the latest three e-mails from Eve. The general theme was one of concern. She was wondering why I hadn’t responded to her first e-mail, and there were additional updates regarding the townhouse and Jessica, who it turned out wasn’t living with them. Greg had managed to get the manager job at the Palace, so with the extra money, they were able to afford it.

I wrote back slowly, each stroke was arduous. There was no proper keyboard placement. With hands and fingers as small as mine, I was forced to stab one by one at the keys like a hungry chicken pecking at feed.

Alexis said with amusement as the popcorn began popping, “That’s a long e-mail. So you sure you can’t give me a hint about the surprise?”

I stopped abruptly and glared at the screen, my pretty face scrunched into what most adults would consider an annoyingly cute scowl.

Alexis giggled, “Sorry, I get you. It’s really important. No more interruptions.”

I wrote:

Eve,

Congratulations to Mr. Egghead on the new job. Please tell me that he’s growing his hair back. Things are weird here. Maybe it is because parents are just crazy now, but I’ve got like one hour of this screen time bullshit every day. And I usually lose it because I don’t listen to a stupid rule or I swear. I guess the dad is kind of OK. He’s actually driving like an adult male instead of some grandma who can’t even see over the dash. The mom Kathryn though, she’s fucking nuts. Always trying to get me in dresses. She treats me like a fucking doll half the time. She’s a Feinstein too so she has this magic power that makes me stand like I have a stick shoved up my ass.

Are you still working on the case? I’m not sure I want you guys to help. You could end up like me, folding laundry in a house where guys sweep and clean the bathroom. It’s weird though, Kathryn’s tough, but so is Thomas. He just does this stuff without Kathryn saying anything. Shit. Sorry, Greg- now I guess Eve will have you doing more shit around the apartment.

Not sure how often I can write. The wannabes aren’t here tonight, and they are usually watching my every move. They put my phone on this bullshit kid mode so I can’t call or text. What’s up with Jessica? I thought she was living with you guys?

Ryan

Alexis, true to her word, didn’t look at the screen once. And why would she? E-mails to granny probably really weren’t that interesting. I sent the e-mail without looking it over too much, knowing that Alexis could turn around quickly, which would leave me forced to answer many awkward questions. Minutes later, Alexis and I settled onto the Patterson’s leather couch. The girl handed me a juice box and my own small bowl of kettle corn. The Patterson’s entertainment setup wasn’t actually bad- a plasma TV probably about fifty inches, surround sound with a subwoofer and a decent selection of DVDs.

I kind of expected rich people like them to have better more expensive stuff, but Thomas was cheap, according to his wife. So why the ultra-high end car? Was it Kathryn’s decision? While there was a Blu-ray player, which ran Netflix, there were, unfortunately, absolutely no game systems. The Pattersons didn’t even have good cable. They had some slimmed down shit package that was missing any sports channels. How the fuck was I supposed to watch football?

Alexis popped open the Blu-ray case for Frozen and approached the player. I was moments away from finally seeing the object of my newfound obsession. The studio had played the movie on loop overnight, but it wasn’t the same as watching it- not even close. I had no intention of actually sitting down and watching Frozen, but the second Alexis started the movie, skipping right to the disc menu, I heard a symphony playing an uplifting melody- and everything changed. I felt giddy, my body gradually filling with tiny pockets of energy that made me want to bounce up and down on the couch in absolute bliss.

I knew generally what the movie was about- the kids at school talked about it enough, but to have the actual images, the torrent of ice and snow- the beautiful danger of a thousand spiked fingertips reaching out toward a terrified crowd, little girls at play forever innocent until a grave mistake, and slim forms in dresses- gorgeous greens and bluish white nearly translucent. It was all too much. I was transfixed by the screen, completely unable to pull away. Just as the excitement grew to a crescendo, even before the movie began, I felt inklings of fear. If I sat here, lost within the world of Arendelle, completely mesmerized by the story of two beautiful sisters, would I use my screen time to watch it every night and beg Kathryn and Thomas for five more minutes? Was it as dangerous as the little girls around me with their imaginations reaching out toward mine like some sort of parasitic hive mind?

My plan had been simple- distract Alexis with a simple question about her boyfriend or a friend of hers and get her in the other room so I could put on a different movie- anything but Frozen. I had seen teenage girls with their phones, especially on the bus, where I was struck by swinging backpacks as chattering teens stared down at their devices. They were often totally unaware of the world around them and the bruise that would form from being smacked in the face by a heavy book bag. I had also been a near perfect angel, meaning that, as Ashley had explained in the studio, Alexis probably trusted me, so she could just leave me there to watch the movie by myself while she fucked around on her phone in the other room.

Unfortunately, I had completely underestimated the sway the movie could have over me. I was the weak swimmer who dove into what they believed to be a calm river, only to be carried by rapids, the breath sucked from their lungs as their body was tossed and then broken against the rocks. Its power came from a multitude of sources, but the prime one, at least currently, was linked to Ava’s group. Why hadn’t I just agreed to be stupid Olaf? It would have been so much easier. Maybe next time they would have let me be Elsa. Ava was probably mad at me because I’d ruined the game. That’s why she made fun of my shoes and called me a baby. It was all my fault.

Seconds later, all worry- anything that resembled conscious thought was gone. Alexis had pressed play, and a beaming smile graced my face. I threw my hands together in glee as the energy coursed through my body again, and this time there was no fighting it. There was no battle- the opposing army had simply never taken the field. I was overrun by the story, the characters, and the music, but especially the magic.

It was just so incredible that there could be a person like Elsa who could make ice and snow from nothing. She would be the best big sister. What other big sister could create a winter wonderland from nothing but their fingertips? Still, it was Anna’s jubilation with which I most identified. She was just such an excitable happy character. I bounced up and down on the couch as she jumped from slope to slope, each one crafted by her big sister. Until, disaster struck and Anna was struck in the head by Elsa’s magic. I gasped and then turned to Alexis.

“Is Anna going to be OK?”

Alexis, who was momentarily surprised by my sudden panic, smiled and said, “I thought this was your favourite movie? I think she’ll be OK. But you have to keep watching.”

And she was, thanks to some silly trolls that looked a lot like rocks half the time. Their big bushy green eyebrows made me giggle. We reached coronation day, when Elsa was to be crowned Queen of Arendelle, but suddenly the picture froze. I turned and looked at Alexis who had the Blu-ray remote in her hand. She had paused the movie, and while I wanted her to unfreeze the image more than anything, probably more than life itself (at least at that moment). I was also suddenly freed from the iron grip of the Disney cash cow.

Alexis grinned, “I can keep the movie running if you want. I’ve seen it about a million times because of my little sister. Last time I babysat her, I tried to turn it off, and she nearly bit me.”

I blinked slowly, the last of the cobwebs fleeing my mind and responded, “Um. No, I-I want to watch it with you.” Alexis nodded with a smile and then excused herself to the bathroom.

I wasn’t sure what kind of permanent damage the movie was doing to my adult mind. My eyes swept over the location of the remote, which was neatly wedged between the couch. I could hit play so easily and be transported back to Arendelle, but I managed to fight the temptation. Seriously though, it was like pulling myself away from a foursome with Megan Fox, Ashley and Jessica. Fuck- throw Monique in there too with her massive tits.

I picked up Alexis’s phone, fucking lucky that she didn’t have a screen lock and rapidly started going through her text messages. My luck continued as I found a guy she had been texting regularly. It was obvious from the texts that Alexis liked Eric, and the feeling was mutual, but they just needed a little push. OK. Maybe a big push. Again, unsurprisingly, as I was flicking through the picture gallery on the phone, I found a selfie that Alexis had taken. She was wearing a regular bikini, nothing skimpy- but for a teenage boy. Well it would get the engine started in a way that would launch him from first gear to sixth in a matter of seconds. I attached the bikini pic with a simple “u like?” and a winking smiley face.

Alexis returned to the bathroom with her phone buzzing like crazy on the coffee table. While I had followed Ashley’s advice up to this point, I knew to get out of this, I needed to listen to my gut. All I knew was that I had to get Alexis out of the room before she unpaused the movie. The addiction growing within me was like Monique and her tattoos, really awful nonsensical tattoos. She actually got an itch for a new one, this bubbling in her skin. Probably had to do with her being high as fuck too, but I wanted to see the end of the movie that badly, and watch it again and again until I could recite every line of dialogue.

Alexis picked up her phone and then narrowed eyes. She quickly turned in my direction, “Kaylee, what did you do with my phone? Why did you do that? Do you think it’s funny?” There was fire in her eyes, dancing pools of molten lave. She really did like this guy.

I shook my head, slowly creeping to the other side of the couch, away from the ire of an angry teenage girl. “N-No. I just thought-“

The phone buzzed again, which had to be the boy’s response, but it was actually a phone call. Alexis proceeded to then walk out of the room and completely ignore me. I listened at the kitchen door.

“No. It wasn’t me. It as this kid that I’m babysitting.”

“Well I was thinking about sending it, but I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

“Yeah I can talk. Kaylee’s just watching a movie in the other room.”

I grinned and fished out the remote, quickly hitting the big red Netflix button, which mercifully shut off Frozen. I knew exactly what I wanted see, and I was hopeful that Netflix hadn’t removed it yet. The streaming service periodically removed movies and shows, but amazingly, there it was, my favourite movie- Goodfellas. Admittedly the pinnacle of Joe Pesci and Ray Liotta’s career and simply notch on the stellar career of Robert De Niro, it was arguably the best Scorsese mob movie of all time. Of course there was also Godfather, but Godfather III ruined the franchise in my eyes. Goodfellas was a self-contained movie. No bullshit sequels.

I enjoyed the movie more than ever, and incredibly I got to watch all the way to the conclusion of the Lufthansa Heist arc. When Alexis finally entered the room, the seemingly permanent smile was quickly wiped from her face. She owed me an apology as it was obvious my little stunt had actually pushed her relationship with Eric outside of the awkward looks in math class phase.

“Kaylee? What are you watching? OK, this is definitely not for kids.” She rapidly turned off the TV just as the camera pulled inside a refrigerated truck, and joining row upon row of meat was a half-frozen corpse hanging by a hook.

“Alright you little sneak, time for bed.” She ushered me up the stairs.

I asked with a smirk, “So did he like the picture?”

Alexis was caught off guard by my question, nearly dropping my toothbrush in the process, “Uh. Yeah. But if you ever touch my phone again you’ll be swimming with the fishes in cement shoes.”

I rolled my eyes but maintained my smirk. Alexis shrugged her shoulders, “OK, so that was lame. Now open up kiddo, it is way past your bed time.” I let Alexis brush my teeth. The whole thing had become a routine, with Kathryn and Thomas alternating. The lack of independence bothered me, but the thought of going back to the dentist in the near future made my pride easier to swallow.

Alexis let me get changed into my PJs and then entered my room. She asked as I was getting into bed, “Hey did you want me to turn this night light on before I turn off the light?”

I shook my head, “Nah. I don’t need it. Night lights are for babies.”

Alexis grinned, “Wow. Gangster movies and no night lights. You are tough, Kaylee. Next time though let’s stick to the Disney movies, OK?”

I nodded slowly and let my head gently fall onto my Elsa pillow. Alexis turned off the light, bathing the room in darkness, and I quickly fell asleep.

***

“Come on, Elsa! Let’s play! The sky is awake, so I’m awake!” A little red-haired girl bounced behind a slightly taller blonde, who abruptly shushed her. “We can’t wake anyone up, Anna. You remember what happened last time, right?” Anna smiled and nodded, “Sure! It was so much fun. We made snowmen, and we did snow angels. And then you made really pretty glowing snowflakes.” Elsa replied, “We both got in big trouble. I lost my ice skates for a week.” Anna sighed, clearly exasperated. The red head leaned over and dragged her arms on the ground, swinging them slightly as she slowed her pace down the stairs. Her enthusiasm, however, was only momentarily lessened. “But we won’t get caught this time.” Despite her previous warning a tiny smile appeared on Elsa’s face, which immediately returned Anna’s excitement, akin to a wrinkled deflated balloon receiving air from a gas station air pump.

The girls reached the bottom of the long, seemingly never ending staircase with Elsa slowly pushing open a set of massive double doors. With every inch the door opened, Anna’s excitement grew. Soon enough, the two were standing in an expansive ballroom. Hundreds of windows cast pale moonlight onto an ornate floor.

“Do the magic!”

Snow and ice burst from Elsa’s fingertips, quickly blanketing the ballroom in a thin layer of snow. Like a heavy winter storm, snowflakes fell, adding to the layer, until the girls were knee deep in fluffy white snow. This only took a matter of minutes with Elsa and Anna both trying to catch the falling flakes on their tongues. Suddenly, the scene shifted and the girls, still dressed in their night gowns, were trudging through ever deeper snow. Grey buildings- factories with tall smokestacks pumping out black clouds replaced the fairy tale castle. Cars and trucks lined the streets some of them already half buried.

On the street next to them, people, or rather huddled masses, could be seen. One man had a scraggily beard and near blue skin. Little icicles hung from the beard and shook back and forth as the man was suddenly taken by a violent coughing fit. Anna stood and stared at the man, simply shaking in terror. Elsa took her sister’s shaking hand, noticing that it too was turning blue. Anna desperately needed to go somewhere warm. She needed to get out from the cold at the very least.

Elsa spotted a nearby van and managed to pull up the latch. It wouldn’t be a great place, but at least the two could huddle together like the people on the street to stay warm. Unfortunately as the door opened, Elsa noticed that the truck wouldn’t do anything for the two sisters. Row upon row of butchered meat hung upon hooks in the back of the truck. Elsa moved to take her sister’s hand again, but Anna wouldn’t budge. Elsa worried at first that Anna was literally frozen solid, but the smaller girl was still moving, albeit far slower than usual. A second later, Elsa realized what had sent her sister into a near catatonic state.

Hanging amidst the meat, were two human corpses, one with long blonde hair frozen to the face, and the other with a pair of glasses- the lenses broken and the arms bent and twisted. They dangled from two frozen bluish ears. There was no scream from the girls, only the howling of the wind which gently jostled the corpses, giving them sudden life. The jostling also revealed a third corpse. This one wasn’t nearly as frozen, making it look far more human. While the skin was still blue, the hair, which was reddish brown, wasn’t crusted over with snow and ice like the other two. Stuck fast to a tight-fitting workout shirt was a pin with gold and green bars. The dead eyes of the third corpse, open and staring, peered at the little girls, until finally- there was a scream.

I woke up, and all I knew was fear. My voice hurt, and I knew the scream had been mine. Terror had invaded every part of my mind. In that moment, it seemed like it was all I had ever known. I whimpered in my bed, and in that complete darkness, my imagination stoked by my fear created a man with a gun. Every little creak in the old house were the footsteps drawing closer to me. The tree just outside my window, with the branch that needed to be trimmed, it dragged its skeletal fingers across the window pane, and while I knew what was making the noise- the house and the tree, it was impossible to convince my mind that it was something other than the man with the gun and something worse- something beyond horrible.

I wasn’t sure what it was that lived just outside my window, but it was so terrible that my imagination created a dark cloud. It could be anything- a terrible beast with slavering jaws, a thousand needles pointed at me- whatever my mind believed the cloud took that shape. I heard a creak again, but it could have also been the cocking of the man’s gun. Was he in my room?

I lay shaking underneath my covers, the man who had been practically fearless, who watched countless horror movies, the gore hound who laughed at the excess blood that spurted from wounds, was gripped by fear. I heard a tiny creak next to my bed, and I lost control. My mouth flung open, “Mmm-…!”

I bit down on my tongue, hoping that the sudden influx of pain would distract me from what was a completely irrational and childish reaction to a movie. My favourite movie. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, listening to the scratching against my window. But then, I heard them. Actual footsteps creeping toward Kathryn and Thomas’ room. The creaking was unmistakable. Was it the man with the gun? Was he coming for me next? The door to the master bedroom opened, and I let loose a panicked, uncontrollable cry.

“Mmmm-Mmmmommmmmmy!!!!!”

Designer Children by OneShot20XX (oneshot20XX@gmail.com)

Author's note: We are reaching the end, and as I close all of the loose ends, posting will be less frequent I'm afraid. There is another reason, however, as this is a hobby for me, other responsibilities must unfortunately take precedence. With that said, I will try and post the remaining chapters on a weekly basis. Just to give you an idea, it takes approximately 1 hour to write 1-3 pages. We have reached page 500 with the posting of this latest chapter. :) I'm not by any means abandoning the story, but the posting will unfortunately be less frequent. Thanks to all of you who have read up to this point, and for your insightful commentary. If you haven't read my other story (book?) then I encourage you to do so. It is similar in that it is a slow burn mental transformation, but it has a music theme and plenty of twists.

Chapter 28

“Shh. Shh. It’s OK, Kaylee.” A soft hand descended on my back. It immediately began rubbing, careful circular motions tracing an instant soothing pattern. But still, I cried. And cried.

I was overcome by fear- a state where my mind could only flit back and forth between different nightmares. The images were completely made up- the monstrous creatures, the man with the gun, the skeletal tree that picked the skin off little children before devouring them. None of those were real, but my childish fear was mixed with the realization that I was succumbing to the serum.

There was no denying it.

Another set of footsteps entered the room, and then a voice. “What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”

“I think she had a nightmare.” The hand continued to rub back and forth, while another hand reached over to my dresser and picked something up.

Seconds later, a soft light filled the darkest parts of the room, the places where the fear hung like thick, inky sheets. “This will hopefully help, Kaylee.”

Gradually, the banishment of the dark and the hand stopped my incessant, uncontrollable sniveling. Through it all, I shook and mewled words that mostly didn’t exist. I turned to face the two voices in my room. A smiling, yet worried Kathryn, hair mussed, clad in a silk nightgown, looked down at me. Within her look and her touch, there was love. It was palpable. Thomas stood next to her at my bedside. He was the one who plugged in the Frozen-themed night light.

Mommy. Daddy.

They came and the scary dreams went away. The bad man with the gun, the tree- it was gone, now there was nothing but comfort. Safety.

No…I couldn’t think of them that way. They were the wannabe parents. The ones who took me away from Eve and Greg- mostly Eve. The memory of the nightmare, and their gently swinging bodies- I hated them with a passion for everything they had done to bring me here, but I was terrified at the same time that they would die.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I had to be going crazy. Is this what Ashley went through as she fell to the serum? Was it worse for me because I still had all my memories? I knew what I had felt with Eve, but it was never like this. Never this powerful.

Kathryn sung softly to me as she continued rubbing my back. Eventually, I fell back asleep.

I woke with the sun in my face. With a heavy sigh, I turned to look at the night light. I ripped it from the socket and threw it on the floor. The impact shattered the bulb, leaving glass on the floor. I wasn’t sure what got me through the night exactly, but I wasn’t spending another night in this room with a fucking night light.

It was one nightmare.

Still, as I looked down at the fallen night light, I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it and slightly saddened by my actions. Did it actually help me sleep through the night? It helped Ashley, but then she had been traumatized. She needed it.

Saturday was cleaning day, and I was surprised by how quickly I had fallen into the routine. Thomas and Kathryn asked me about the nightmare and the broken light, but I wasn’t really interested in telling them. And of course, they found out about the movie I had watched, and I lost my screen time for the rest of the weekend.

When bed time neared, that fear began to creep back into my mind. I had kept it at bay throughout the day, but as soon as I was standing in my room, peeking out at tree branches that looked like fingers, my mind was suddenly overwhelmed, and again, all I knew was fear.

Kathryn put her hand on my shoulder, “We got a new bulb if you want your night light, Kaylee. Lots of kids your age sleep with one.”

Thomas added, “It’s very common. We know you’re very brave, but that movie you were watching is for adults. It’s no wonder it scared you. Maybe just try the night light for a few days, OK?”

Kathryn smiled, “At least if you wake up in the middle of the night, you won’t be a completely dark room.”

I sighed heavily, my shoulders sagging as I felt resigned to my fate- that of a little girl who was scared of the dark. Thomas plugged in the night light, and I felt almost instant relief wash over me. I slept through the night, waking again with the sun in my face and the soft glow of the night light. Defeated, I spent most of the day in my room, coming out only to eat. Kathryn and Thomas were worried, and after I refused to tell them what was wrong, they returned to their parenting articles and support network, which in Kathryn’s case was her sister.

As bedtime neared again, the fear, which was as commonplace now as the powerful desire to watch and play Frozen, returned. I peered out my window and noticed that the tree branches were no longer scratching against the glass. Frank had likely come by because otherwise I’m sure I would have heard an ambulance if Thomas had tried it.

I noticed something else too. There was still some daylight. Summer was waning, but those long summer days were still here. I looked at the pink princess castle that acted as my alarm clock and the only means I had to tell time. Had I really been going to bed at 8 PM every night since I got here? I mean my body was tired, especially since I had started school, but had I really allowed myself to slip further into a routine? The teeth brushing. It all started with that.

Fuck, what was next, story time?

I slept with the night light again, and the next day, I trudged into school. Kathryn and Thomas again tried to play twenty questions with me, but I told them to fuck off, which again lost me my screen time. I sure as fuck was not going to tell them the truth about why I was so upset. I wanted to see if Eve had written me back yet, but unless I could get the wannabes out of the house, it wasn’t happening.

What I really wanted to know was whether or not the researchers had completely cracked Travers’ code. I needed some good news. At this point, I knew I was fucked. I wasn’t Ryan any longer. I didn’t- or couldn’t like the same things. But, I wasn’t Kaylee yet either. Just this walking-talking mess of a human being.

“You look very pretty today, Ava.”

Ava always wore dresses. Did she have a mom like mine, trying to (yet successfully) forcing her into them? Or was she just that girly? I felt a tinge of jealousy as I looked down at my own clothing- again a combination of a polo shirt with khaki pants (as the weather was getting cooler).

“Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael.”

It looked like Ava was going to play tennis, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The bottom of the dress was ruffled, similar to a cheerleader’s skirt. It would be perfect for twirling. Ava stood in the middle of her group of friends, dressed better than some of the sixth grade girls at the far end of the yard.

It fucking pissed me off that I was jealous of someone like Ava, but she- she got so many compliments. Stupid Mrs. Carmichael always said nice things about Ava’s dresses. All she said was hello to me. It was an easy fix. I just had to go into my closet and pick one out.

I sighed, realizing that I was dressed like some pathetic soccer mom.

School was still mostly boring, except when Mrs. Carmichael used the special white board to do animations, like when she made the whole Earth spin until we stopped on Antarctica. It was only my writing that put me on the same footing as the other kids in the class. Everything else we did was just ridiculously easy.

The class was working on a short story unit, emphasis on the word short. We had to make up a story about two friends who have a problem getting along but the two friends had to be aliens or some bullshit like that, and then we had to get our seatmate to read it. I couldn’t contain myself as I looked over Ava’s work.

Ava smiled, “You think my story is funny, Kaylee?”

I shook my head, “Not really. I mean. It doesn’t make any sense. And I don’t think you spelled one word right.” I wanted to hurt Ava for how she had treated me. Maybe I was a baby because I couldn’t tie my shoes, but at least my story made sense.

Mrs. Carmichael, who was doing her rounds like some sort of teacher-ninja hybrid, surprised me, “Kaylee, that’s not nice. We all learn at different rates. Rather than being mean, why not help Ava improve her story? Offer some suggestions.”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat as I was admonished, “OK, Mrs. Carmichael.” The teacher smiled and moved to break up a light sabre dual involving two boys armed with pencils.

Ava said, “I don’t want your help, Kaylee. You’re mean.”

Ava snatched her story back from me and then lowered her head on her desk. Was she crying? A lump appeared in my throat as I looked down at my own story, which was easily twice the length of Ava’s. Thankfully, the bell rang and the students lined up for lunch.

Lunch was an interesting phenomenon. It looked a lot like a seventh grade dance, especially with the younger ages. As the kids got older, there was more mingling among the sexes, but generally, boys sat with boys and girls with girls. I was a different case.

I hadn’t really made any friends, so I sat alone. I would have sat with Conner, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit at a table with five six year old boys. It was easy to tell myself that it was because of their ages, and that spending time with them outside of class was dangerous, but I also knew it was because of their sex. The strange push and pull still existed with Conner, but the prospect of sitting at the table with the other boys was like more like a vicious mental shove. It just wasn’t happening. I had previously been comfortable with guys- my own age certainly. Sitting around a fire or at the table and talking about whatever. Or not talking. Now, now it just felt wrong. Like some hairy spider crawling down my neck. Yuck.

I looked down at my lunch and sighed. It was packed in one of those lunch bags that kids in elementary school carried- well more so little girls- pale purple and adorned with Frozen characters. Each item was packed in a Tupperware container. Kathryn was apparently trying to save the world by avoiding plastic bags, but plenty of the other kids had their food in little plastic baggies, so it probably didn’t make a fucking difference anyway. On the inside of the bag in black permanent marker it read: KAYLEE PATTERSON.

My lunch was equally sad, a ham sandwich on whole grain bread, which tasted like I was trying to chew through a piece of cardboard slathered with mustard. A yogurt drink, whole wheat crackers with cheese and for dessert- fruit. Fucking fruit. Kathryn made most health nuts look like regular greasy spoon customers. Okay. It was a fruit cup, but still- fuck, she couldn’t give me cookies? It wasn’t fair because Thomas got to eat fucking Oreos. He had a stash in his office.

As I stared down at my lunch bag, my mind began to wander, back to the icy slopes of the North Mountain, but as I thought about Frozen, I was most reminded of the music. The incredible music. Normally, I just went for dance stuff- whatever they were playing in the club or at the Palace, it was mostly top 40 stuff. The odd song would get stuck in my head, but this was nothing like that.

I had a serious earworm- the songs playing on repeat, and coaxing me to be a good girl so I could get my screen time. I nearly asked Thomas to put on Radio Disney in the morning drive over, hoping that I would hear something from the movie. I found myself humming the intro song as Conner walked over to me, football neatly tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey, Kaylee. You wanna play?”

I nodded rapidly and bolted out of my seat, perhaps a little too happy to be playing catch with a six year old. Five minutes later, however, I learned that we both sucked at throwing and catching the football. Conner would throw the ball to me, and it would either bounce off my chest or fall well short of the target. Catching it with my hands, or at least trying, revealed that my hand-eye coordination was still- well at the level of a six year old girl. Conner was only slightly better than me.

Conner said, “Maybe if you come closer. Or I could throw it like this.” Conner threw the ball underhand, and finally, the lob properly bounced off my chest and landed in my hands.

I shook my head fiercely, “That’s how kids play catch. Come on, we’ll get it.”

Conner sighed, “I’m bored. Let’s play tag or we could play Avengers. Like the football could be a bomb or something, and we have to help the people before it explodes.”

I said, “We aren’t going to get any better if we don’t practice. Let’s just do five more catches. Like once we get five. We’ll stop, OK?” To be honest, I wasn’t all that interested in playing Avengers. No, my attention was caught again by Ava’s little group of friends, enjoying a really fun game of skipping.

We got five catches, but three of them were underhand, and they weren’t all in a row. Conner decided to join his friends, who were all playing Avengers. I sat alone, watching Ava’s group until the bell rang ending the lunch-time recess.

***

“It’s not really fair. She’s had her career completely stalled.”

Thomas replied, “Well she was gone for a year. She can’t just expect to pick up exactly where she left off. She wasn’t working.”

Kathryn glared at Thomas and the man quickly added, “In her field. She’s been out of her field for an entire year. Do I think it’s fair? Not really no. But is it fair for her to just be able to come back and claim a job. The senior professor position went to someone who has managed to stay current in a field that is in near constant flux. It’s a sacrifice.”

Kathryn, who was still looking like she wanted to partly strangle Thomas, said, “I didn’t expect her to just be given tenure or the senior professor position. But she should have had more prep time for the exam.”

Thomas, who was attempting to act as the voice of reason as far as I was concerned, said, “She had the same amount of prep time as everyone else. Just because she’s got a baby at home doesn’t mean she should have preferential treatment.”

Kathryn replied, “The whole thing is very shady. Some people knew about the senior professor job way before Cynthia. Her career trajectory is completely screwed up now, and she is being punished for having a baby.”

Thomas sighed, “Well the jobs are on internal mail. I mean yes it would have been ideal to know earlier because she could have started getting back into things sooner, but that’s not the fault of the university. It was her choice not to get set up for the internal mail. Look Kat, Cynthia is your friend, so I’m not sure you are looking at this in the right frame of mind.”

Kathryn shook her head fiercely, “Did you know that by Cynthia’s second semester, they had already cut her course load, and they took her off a research project? This was a girl who was still teaching aerobics, high-impact aerobics into her fifth month of pregnancy.”

Bored of the conversation and the gross green beans on my plate, I asked, “So did she get knocked up, or is there someone in the picture?”

The conversation only served to demonstrate another in a long list of reasons why I didn’t want to grow up female. I certainly didn’t want to deal with that shit- let alone bleeding out of my vagina every month. For a brief moment, as the image of that popped into head, I was overjoyed that I was only six years old. Women just had to deal with a lot of bullshit. I had heard Kathryn complaining about how her colleagues treated her, especially her male colleagues. Her male students were sometimes less than subtle about their staring. With the so-called perfect genes, I would probably have to put up with the same on a daily basis.

Kathryn and Thomas both turned toward me with wide open, no- gaping mouths. Thomas stuttered, “K-Kaylee, where did you learn such inappropriate language?”

Kathryn shook her head, “Guess. I’ve half a mind to call them up and tell them how they’ve corrupted a poor little girl.”

I shot a nasty look at Kathryn, “First of all, I’m not a poor little girl. I understand way, way more than you probably realize. And secondly, Agatha, how the fuck do you know I didn’t learn this in the studio? Some conversation between teamsters during a lunch break? You don’t know that it was Greg and Eve. They took really good care of me.”

Kathryn blanched, while Thomas remained silent. She finally spoke up, “You’re right, Kaylee. We don’t know. I’m sorry.” She firmed and hard lines appeared on her face, “But that doesn’t ignore the fact that we’ve told you about a hundred times now that we don’t want to hear anymore swearing.”

I nodded, “I know. No screen time.” I was actually thankful because I wouldn’t have to wage a battle against myself that could end with me begging Kathryn and Thomas to watch Frozen.

Thomas added, “And we don’t really say ‘knocked up’ either. It’s not polite.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’ve been here long enough to see how things work. People like those diamond rose tea-sipping society types, they act polite, but they aren’t. They use different words, but they mean the same thing. I remember how she talked to Kathryn about me and child birth or whatever. They might as well have just said fuck you, I’m better than you because I pushed a baby out my snatch.”

If Kathryn and Thomas had worn monocles, they would have popped off and tumbled into their also non-existent wine glasses. Both looked flabbergasted. I guess I had probably gone too far, even for a semi-street wise first grader, it was far beyond my expected level.

There was a full thirty seconds of silence at least before Thomas finally said, “So, Kaylee, who did you play with today?”

I smirked, enjoying the squirming of the wannabes. “Conner. We threw his football around. We both kind of sucked though.” This fact quickly wiped the smirk off my face.

Both Kathryn and Thomas looked pleased. I guess the daily reports they were receiving about my sitting alone at lunch and recess had to be driving them crazy with worry.

Kathryn said, “Well if you want to get better, you need to practice. Why not play catch with your- Thomas?”

I raised a speculative brow, “No offense, but I bet he’s about as good as me. And I’m awful.”

Thomas stuttered, “I-I’ve got a grant proposal coming up. I also have to present to the development committee about the impact of the coffee shop they want to build in the library.”

I shrugged, “Probably throws worse than me too. And do you even have a ball?”

Kathryn nodded, “Yes we do. There was one in the garage when we moved in.” She then turned toward Thomas, “You’ll be out there for half an hour not three hours. Now get moving.”

I looked at Thomas and shrugged, then slowly made my way to the backyard. Thomas followed behind me as if he were being led down death row.

***

“You didn’t need to come out here you know.”

Thomas replied, “Sometimes it’s just best to do what Kathryn wants. It’s the Feinstein in her. Plus, well we should you know do things together. If I’m going to be your d-“

I interrupted, “Adoptive dad.”

Thomas nodded, “Right. Maybe one day though, I’ll call you my little Kaylee-Bear, and you’ll call me Daddy-kins.”

I shook my head, “Ok, stop. I barfed a little in my mouth.”

Thomas grinned, “So, the people you were staying with, did they like football?”

As we spoke, we awkwardly tossed the ball around. Thomas didn’t provide any pointers like my own dad, but I already knew what I had to do. We stood about six feet apart, but Thomas was forced to often jog forward in order to sometimes catch but mostly miss the ball. I still clearly threw like a girl.

“Not really.”

“You know if you let the ball bounce off your chest, you’ll catch more. I guess you’ll have to move in a little though.” Thomas did as I suggested, and he caught my next pass. I knew it wasn’t really the best way to catch a football in a game situation, but for our purposes it worked. After all, Kathryn wasn’t about to join the play and intercept the ball.

I peered out of the corner of my eye, noticing Kathryn standing at the backdoor, peering at us from the screen door. I groaned, “She’s recording us. Isn’t she?”

Thomas looked over toward Kathryn and then back to me, “Yeah. Definitely.”

I groaned, “And she’ll probably post it on Facebook.”

Thomas nodded, “Yeah. Definitely.”

I asked, “Did she change her desktop picture yet? The other one was seriously creepy.”

Thomas laughed, “Yeah. It’s a picture from your first day of school. She rotates them.”

I sighed, “She’s obsessed.” I couldn’t believe that I was actually having a decent conversation with Thomas. We had our moment in the car, but beyond that, we hadn’t exactly bonded. Now, we were just throwing and catching a ball poorly, and we were almost opening up. It reminded me of playing catch with my own dad, and I couldn’t help but notice a pleasant feeling- these little pin pricks at the back of my neck as we continued to talk.

Thomas simply shrugged as we continued to throw the ball back and forth. I said, “What’s with those sticker people on the car anyway?”

Thomas replied matter-of-factly, “Kathryn’s idea again. I think they are cute. Don’t you?”

The stickers still bothered me, especially the presence of the smiling stick princess that was supposed to represent me. If that is how my wannabe parents saw me, then I would have to quickly change their minds, show them that I would not fit within the mold. I reached out to catch the ball and dropped it. With a sigh, I replied, “Not really. And that one of you, you like building sandcastles, right?”

Thomas laughed, “I’m an archeologist, but they don’t really have one for that, so yeah I’ve got a little shovel and a pail.” The laughter ended abruptly as Thomas failed to catch the ball- although my shitty throw probably didn’t help. “I haven’t been on a dig in a long time. About five years now. Wow, I can’t believe it’s been that long.” Thomas shook his head slowly and threw the ball clear over my head.

“Sorry, Kaylee.”

I ran to fetch the ball, my body still filled with a boundless energy, even after playing earlier with Conner. “So why don’t you go on one? Seems like it would be pretty cool. Like Tomb Raider.”

Thomas smiled sadly, “Kind of like that. But actually nothing like that. I’m basically a grant monkey now though. Curse my superior command of the English language.”

I rolled my eyes at Thomas’ attempt at humour, “So, just tell them you don’t want to do that anymore. It’s a university. It’s full of people who can write. Why do you have to do it?”

Thomas looked at me the same way most adults did when I said something outside the understanding of a regular six year old- a little smile crossed his lips as his eyes looked on, clearly amused at the precocious little girl before him. “Well because it is part of my job. We all have to do things we don’t like. You don’t like folding laundry, right? But it needs to be done.”

I shook my head, “Sounds like you just don’t want to fucking deal with it. Same way with the door and fixing stuff up around the house. And with the tire initially.”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Kaylee, your language. And it’s complicated. It’s also kind of my fault. I had a chance to go on a dig about three months ago, but I turned it down.”

After this, things went silent. We continued to throw the ball back and forth, both of us mostly dropping it, especially as the remaining light faded.

Thomas broke the silence a few throws later, “So you don’t like your sticker?” I shook my head firmly. The image of the smiling little girl in the princess dress would have been harmless to most, but to someone struggling with their very identity, the little sticker on the back window of the SUV was the scripted Kaylee- the one the serum sought to create.

The one that couldn’t watch scary movies and hid behind her mommy’s expensive skirts.

That needed a night light.

I had fallen so far from the fearless Ryan Sullivan, I felt like I had one finger left on the ledge, my body dangling above a precipice.

“I just don’t really feel like it’s me.”

Thomas smiled, “Well we can fix that easily. The kit came with a bunch of accessories.” He motioned toward the front yard and then took off excitedly. I followed, but with much less enthusiasm.

When I reached the front yard, I saw Thomas busy trying to pick off the sticker. I watched as he removed the puffy looking skirt and the stereotypical pointed princess hat. He turned to me and said with a completely straight face, “OK. So what’s more you, boxing gloves?”

A tittering giggle didn’t simply escape my mouth- it burst. Thomas grinned and then pulled out a sheet with a litany of sticker accessories. “You like Sherlock Holmes, right? There’s this cap and magnifying glass. How about that?”

I smiled, “Okay. Yeah that sounds pretty good.”

Thomas carefully removed the stickers and then placed them on the little girl stick figure. The long hair and the triangular-shaped skirt were a dead giveaway to her gender, but at least the stupid princess stuff was gone.

“It’s getting near your bedtime. We should head inside.”

***

“Lean your head back a little bit more please, Kaylee. I still see some stuff here.” I did as asked, allowing Thomas to more easily reach my back teeth. It was perfectly normal now to have a grown man or grown woman brush my teeth. This fact should have terrified me, but it was routine, the same way that I lined up next to the other kids to go out for recess, putting my little feet in clown-sized multi-coloured footprints.

“Okay, good looks like I got the last of it.”

Instead of simply rinsing the brush off, wiping it on the towel and placing it back in the little ice castle holder, Thomas proceeded to gently brush the tip of my nose. The giggle this time, however, did not burst nor escape from my mouth- as an involuntary reaction. It flowed like a primordial river, never dammed, never losing pressure, simply a constant current. Something absolutely natural and untouched.

A big grin formed on my face, my cheeks dimpling in a way that caused an equally massive grin to break out on Thomas’ face. A few minutes later, as Thomas tucked me in, I asked, “Can we throw the ball again tomorrow? I mean we both kind of suck. But I feel like we were getting it with the last ones.”

Thomas nodded with a smile, “Yeah. I-If you want to. But it’s late now, and you’ve got school tomorrow. Good night, Kaylee. I love you.”

“Good night.”

Thomas leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. Moments after he did, the little pin pricks returned, travelling up and down my spine like tiny electric shocks. As Thomas left the room, a small smile graced my face.

***

It was hairy, and its million or so legs were crawling slowly across my exposed forearm. I stared down at the caterpillar inching its way along my skin. It was multi-coloured, a mottling of orange, black and yellow, but my brain failed to register the colours. A primal, uncontrollable fear descended on me, and in seconds, I was shrieking, flapping my arm, desperately trying to dislodge the creature without touching it.

“Kaylee, calm down. It’s just a bug. Here.”

Conner, who had dropped his football, took hold of my arm and then firmly squished the hapless caterpillar. This, however, did not stop my shrieking as now a disgusting, or as the older girl I had met at the beach would put it, icky goo oozed down my arm. Conner took his shirt and quickly wiped away the guts and the caterpillar carcass.

Conner said, “Wow, you were scared of that? You’re such a girl, Kaylee. My mommy is really scared of spiders. She makes me and my dad kill ‘em. One time she got one in her hair, and she screamed- a lot like you.” The little boy laughed.

Oh fuck. Spiders. They were worse than caterpillars. One hundred times worse.

It was clear the serum was warping my mind further, on its gradual descent toward the Kaylee character from the Hermie Hippo Show, but all I could think about was that little web in the far corner of my room and the nest of spiders that would undoubtedly pay me a visit tonight. Forget the fact that as Ryan Sullivan, I had bottled, fed, squished and played with caterpillars, worms- anything I could find on the ground that moved basically. Kaylee was entirely different specimen apparently.

I was becoming a scaredy cat. A violent movie was one thing, but an insect? Something that lived its life until it found itself on the bottom of someone’s shoe?

I looked down at my arm, checking to make sure that nothing else had fallen on it and then quickly moved away from the tree that was probably hosting a whole colony of creepy crawlies. The fear I felt was real, and completely irrational, just like my mom’s fear of mice. I mean my mom had a bit of an argument considering one, half-dead had crawled into her pant leg after fleeing the neighbour’s cat. When she went to put on the pants, out popped the mouse, and my mom just lost it. Fuck, is that what I had to look forward to? Screaming like a maniac because of a fucking rodent?

I glared at Conner, but he had already gone to retrieve his football, so he didn’t see the look. The asshole thought the whole traumatic experience was funny. Of course, I had laughed at my mom, who had done her best impression of a mental patient, while balancing on a chair to escape the mouse.

As we resumed our game of catch, I was still angry, and I tried to show this by throwing the ball harder. While I had been practicing with Thomas, which had slightly improved my skills, I still couldn’t throw very far or very accurately, so my hard throw bounced harmlessly off a nearby tree. I looked fearfully at the tree, worried that my action had dislodged more caterpillars.

Why did Conner have to be so mean? I couldn’t help being terrified, and he fucking…laughed! It also bothered me how he had so casually ended the life of the caterpillar without a measure of fear. Exactly as I used to. Hannah was actually not terrified of spiders, but she hated frogs. Like really hated them. To tease her, I used to make frog noises when we were at the beach, which she didn’t particularly appreciate. It usually earned me a punch on the arm. She really got pissed off the one time I actually brought her a frog to try and explain how girly she was acting. Now that I had experienced it first-hand, I had a new appreciation and a measure of guilt. It really was uncontrollable and completely irrational- but most of all, it was impossible to stop. It wasn’t a matter of just saying to myself, “It is just a caterpillar or spider.” The fear practically seeped into my being.

Thankfully, the bell rang, ending the first recess of the day. The playground was scattered with fallen leaves in orange, yellow and red, and we were forced to tromp through them on our way back to class. Some of the kids had formed leaf piles, and had been joyfully throwing their bodies into the cushioned mass. Others had been throwing the leaves or took turns putting the leaves in each other’s hoods and then picking them out of their hair.

I had had to prick my leg a few times with my dad’s pin to avoid ditching Conner for the leaves, an activity clearly linked to childhood.

Conner asked, “So what are you gonna be for Halloween?”

I knew Halloween was coming- three weeks away, according to the pumpkin countdown calendar in the classroom, but I had no intention of being anything. Adults didn’t trick or treat. They dressed up in costumes, the girls in slutty almost lingerie, got drunk and made some fun mistakes. Kathryn had asked what I wanted to be a few times, but I just told her nothing.

I was already hanging on by a tiny thread- Halloween, with imagination and childish games, brought with it innumerable risks to see what remained of me fully washed away, the colours running from my being and forming pinks and pale purples.

I replied, “I don’t know. Maybe Elsa.”

Conner said, “Ava and a bunch of the girls from our class too are gonna be her. That’s boring.”

I had replied sarcastically, knowing that a million or more young girls across the country, and maybe even across the world, would choose Elsa as their costume. The joke went completely over Conner’s head.

I said, “Well what are you going to be, Spider-man?”

Conner nodded his head happily. I smirked, “Okay, you and about a billion other kids. Why does it matter what I’m going to be?”

Conner replied matter-of-factly, “You’re different. Well kind of. For a girl. I thought you’d be something cool like Black Widow. Because you like that kind of stuff.”

I replied, “I’m sure the skin-tight leather costume would go over really well in an elementary school.”

Conner laughed, “But you could, right? And then we could really play Avengers on Halloween.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Maybe.”

***

While I could usually count on Conner to help me stave off boredom by tossing the football around during recess, the little boy often quickly grew bored. He often left me alone, and as my eyes crossed the playground- the swings, the girls skipping rope, the kids going down the slide for the millionth time. It was all as alluring as an eyeful of Monique’s implants, heaving in a too-tight crop top. Before I realized that the breasts were basically just bloated silicone jugs.

During lunch-time recess, Conner had left me after about five minutes of throwing the ball around to join his friends in a game of football. Although, with the respective ages of the players, to call it football was actually a disservice to the sport. It mostly involved the boys running around and tackling each other behind a group of trees that provided some shelter from the watchful eye of the lunch time monitors, but it was about as close to as I was going to get to an actual football game, so I slowly made my way over to the group.

Childish behaviour, like jumping in leaves or playing with toys, was dangerous to my adult self, but a simple game of football with first and second graders seemed safe enough. Because neither of them could throw very far, it was all running game, with the boys trying to block each other from reaching a set of trees on either side that acted as goal posts.

One team was actually short a player, so I decided to just join in. Another boy had done the same two minutes before, basically joining in the middle of the play. It was the exact same way we had done it when I was a kid. Kids would get called in for dinner or lunch or appointments- it didn’t matter. Someone else would just join in, and you would play until there weren’t enough kids to have a proper game.

I received a few strange looks from the boys on both teams, but they continued with their game. This was an important moment in establishing who Kaylee Patterson was going to be. Would she be the girly girl who was terrified of bugs, or would she be the tomboy who would run and keep up with the boys? I needed these boys to see me as the latter.

I had joined just as a touchdown had been scored by my team, so I quickly ran back and waited on defense. Most of the tackling involved grabbing shirts and throwing the player with the ball to the ground, but I had seen a few rough mid-body hits that had left the boys involved looking dazed and sometimes even hurt.

Conner, who was on my team, smiled at me as we ran down the field toward the opposing team. A boy, who was easily a foot faller than me, ran with the ball neatly tucked underneath his arm like a real running back. Compared to me, he was a rampaging giant, with broad shoulders and massive hands. Either he had failed a grade, or he liked dominating little kids. In front of him, his offensive line blocked by mostly pushing my team down with outstretched hands. Some of the offensive linemen spun the defenders by their shirts until they fell to the ground.

I had little in the way of previous experience running against kids my own age, but it was clear that I was fast. While my legs were short, and it felt like it took forever to actually reach my intended destination, when stacked against kids my age, I actually held my own. Considering I was supposed to be this perfect specimen- that this would transfer to some athletic ability made absolute sense. Sure, I couldn’t catch or throw a ball very well, but few six years olds could, boys or girls.

I managed to slip past two charging second graders, easily half a foot taller than me, and leapt toward the kid with the ball. My hand stretched out and snagged his pant leg and then dug in, my fingers gripping like some rabid dog. He pulled me along on the grass for a few feet, my white khaki pants quickly gaining an assortment of stains in lovely green and brown as the grass and hard packed dirt met my knees and legs. He picked up speed now basically dragging me down the field. So, realizing I was losing my grip, I rapidly swung my other hand over to grip the boy’s free leg, which sufficiently slowed his movement. With this slowdown, I released my grip and then hugged his legs, bringing him down suddenly. As his descent was such a surprise, he had no time to cushion the fall with his hands. He fell hard onto his face, which dislodged the ball and sent it skittering in a fumble toward my team.

There was no time for congratulations on my tackle as my team immediately went on the offensive. Still, the boys looked impressed. The fallen boy, whose chin was covered in dirt, looked humiliated, but he quickly got back into the game. As he rose, he sniffed a few times, but crying in front of a bunch of his classmates during a football game was never going to be acceptable, even in first and second grade, and especially if he was older. He would never live it down to a point where he would probably want to change schools.

As my team ran toward an inevitable touchdown, I was pushed hard from behind. The shove caused me to stumble, but I managed to maintain my balance. I spun around to see my attacker and saw the boy I had tackled, red-faced and furious. It was well after the play, and in a real game of football, it would have amounted to unsportsmanlike conduct. More than anything, it was a jerk move.

I glared at the boy and moved to push him back, but my team had already scored, so I stifled the childish outburst that sought to put me on the same level as the real child standing next to me. The game continued like this throughout recess with a lot of back and forth from both teams. Despite my earlier tackle, no one seemed willing to give me a chance to run with the ball. I wasn’t sure if it was an issue with sharing or the fact that I looked like a girl, but even standing right next to a teammate in a position to lateral the ball to me, I still didn’t get it.

It was bullshit. I was just as fast as most of them, and in some cases, even faster. I was definitely faster than Conner. After the next touchdown, I sprinted toward the ball and took it in my arms. I looked at the assembled boys around me- my offensive line, and then I cradled the ball, pressing it firmly against my body. It was just like my dad had shown me. We played a similar game to the one in the school yard, but it was one-on-one, and most of the time it ended with my dad tackling and then tickling me. At least when I was younger. When I got older, and I sought to challenge my dad, we got more competitive and definitely rougher.

Would Thomas ever want to do anything like that with me?

The Pattersons could not be my parents. I still wanted Greg and Eve, although partly because they would let me do whatever I wanted. I thrust the thoughts from my head as I began to run. My offensive line surprisingly tried just as hard to help me get to the other side of the field as any of the boys who had gone before me. As I ran down the field, I began to feel confident that I could actually score. Some of the boys were definitely more coordinated than me, but I had pure speed, and my smaller frame could find and easily pierce the holes in the defense.

As I grew closer to the goal, I noticed that I had only one defender left to beat- the boy who may or may not have been two grades ahead of me. Still red-faced, he pounded down the field toward me, looking all of a sudden like a rampaging elephant. My imagination took this image as truth, and I felt a sense of instant fear.

Focus. I was going to show this asshole that he couldn’t push me around. Gathering my courage, I told myself that I was going to blow past him. I would make a quick move to the left, but I would go right, and then I would start my victory dance.

The boy said nothing, but his face and posture told the story of someone who was still upset that a girl had managed to tackle him. His teeth were bared like some snarling dog with his eyes showing the fury tied to his embarrassment.

A tiny strand of hair entered my field of vision, followed by another and another. I had kept the headband on for the game, knowing that it would keep my long hair, which was now well over shoulder length, suitably bound. Kathryn had this morning chosen one that tied. I guess it was probably called something else, but all I knew was that it was loose, and the hair was in my eyes.

I didn’t see the impact, but I felt it immediately. The ball skittered away, indicating a fumble, but I wasn’t in a position to retrieve it. My body took a moment to complete a diagnosis, but my mind was already three steps ahead. A shrill moan left my lips before I even realized how hurt I was, and then came the waterworks, powerful- a veritable deluge. My chin hurt like hell, but I was more concerned with bawling my eyes out.

“Did you have to hit her so hard?”

“I think she’s really hurt.”

“We should get a teacher.”

“No way. They already said we can’t play this. We’ll be in big trouble.”

My hands went to my chin, and I touched it gingerly, which set off a new chorus of cries.

“Mr. Samuels is looking over here.”

“Why do you even play with her, Conner? She’s such a big baby.”

“Because she’s my friend. And she’s cool.”

I felt someone kneel down beside me. “Kaylee, should we get a teacher? Are you going to be OK?” It was Conner. My crying had lessened, my sobbing now a pathetic whimper more in line with Duke the time he caught his leg in a rabbit snare during a hunting trip with my dad. In the wild, I would have been attracting predators, the sound awakening primal urges to fill empty bellies, but in the school yard, it would likely bring a teacher.

My theory was proven correct a moment later as I saw every boy except for Conner suddenly take off. They had to know they would be caught eventually. Mr. Samuels, the third grade teacher, probably knew them all by name, since it was a small school. Although in the case of the asshole that murdered me, maybe he also taught them currently. In fact, since Twin Falls was such a small town, it is probable that Mr. Samuels even knew most of the parents by their first name, even this early in the school year.

Conner shouted, “Emergency! Emergency! Mr. Samuels, I think Kaylee’s really hurt. Maybe, she’s got a broken leg or something! Or a broken face!” He excitedly pointed toward me. Unsurprisingly, he was kind of flapping his arm as he pointed. I apparently wasn’t the only one that did that.

Mr. Samuels laughed gently, “I don’t think that’s quite it, Conner. And let’s not scare her. But we’ll see how Kaylee is doing, and then maybe I’ll take her to the nurse.” Mr. Samuels was, like most adults, very tall, but compared to others, he was monstrously tall. Just looking at him, it seemed like his legs went on forever. The consequence of this is that he made me feel tiny. I imagined myself as a little fairy, the one from the story I had written, with a broken wing. The giant, Mr. Samuels, taking my entire body into one massive hand.

Mr. Samuels asked with a smile, “Where does it hurt, Kaylee?”

I pointed to my chin, while still sniffling and eliciting the odd whimper. The teacher’s presence and the fact that Conner had remained by my side had comforted me immeasurably.

Mr. Samuels said, “That’s going to leave a nasty bruise. Let’s take you to the nurse so we can get the whole story. We don’t want your parents to worry, so we’ll take it all down so they understand what happened to you.”

Conner frowned, “But will we get in trouble for playing that game?”

Mr. Samuels replied, “That depends. Were you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing?”

Conner shrugged and refused to meet the teacher’s gaze, “Well. I mean maybe.”

Mr. Samuels sighed, “That’s why we don’t want you playing so rough. Because kids like Kaylee get hurt, and it isn’t fun any longer, right?”

Conner nodded, “Right. Can I help you bring Kaylee to the nurse? She’s my friend.”

Mr. Samuels smiled, “Sure.”

***

I scratched at the band-aid firmly stuck to my chin- the war wound from the lunch-time recess. Yes, I had cried my eyes out, but considering I had been hit with the elementary school yard equivalent of a monster truck, it wasn’t surprising. I had hung with the boys. While the cowards all escaped, trying to evade what would be an obvious capture, I had still successfully played their game.

As a guy, it is what you did. You got the shit kicked out of you, and you got back up and threw another punch, another hit- dragged yourself across the field to the bench. I had once played an entire game of football with blood leaking down the side of my leg from an errant cleat. The longer you staved off the treatment, the more credit you received from your teammates. There was something animalistic about it, a fervour that raised the level of play, it made tackles harder, limbs move at hyper speed.

For the final recess of the day, the boys had moved the location of their game. I strode over to them confidently, my pants, the expensive khakis were still slicked with stains, likely a permanent green over each knee. The equally expensive polo sweater with the little frills at the cuffs was also similarly stained at the front and back, the result of my being thrown and also dragged. I wanted to show them off, like war wounds, but I had been forced to change by Mrs. Carmichaels. She hadn’t made any of the boys who played change. Annoyingly, the only change of clothes I had was a dress, surreptitiously placed there by Kathryn no doubt. And of course, Mrs. Carmichaels had made a big deal about it.

The blouse was pink with black stripes that attached to a long, flowing skirt that ended just below my ankle. Attached neatly, just over my heart, was a pretty pink rose. It wasn’t real, being soft and almost plush, but it had multiple layers making it look as if was continuously blooming. Fucking Kathryn.

I wish the class had a mirror.

Just like at lunch, the teams were uneven, but something about the game itself was odd. No one was grabbing shirts, pants, trying to haul each other down or doing anything that resembled a football tackle. Fuck. They were playing touch football. It was the exact same game without any of the physicality.

“OK. No teachers.” It was the older boy, the one who had introduced me to the grass, the dirt, and his elbow.

I quickly began jogging toward the team missing the player, my skirt gently swishing against my legs as I did, but instead of just continuing the play like the first time, everything stopped.

“Go away, Kaylee, cry baby!”

“You got us in trouble!”

“Stupid crying girls.”

I shook my head and said, “Hey you fuckers, I nearly got my jaw broken by someone who will be shaving while he’s still in the fifth grade. If he hit you like he hit me, you’d probably still be crying. Now come on, let’s play.”

“Get lost, kid. No one here wants to play with a cry baby girl. Go play with the stupid girls. You look just like them.” The older boy flicked his thumb in the direction of Ava and her group.

I said, “Hey idiot, you do realize we’re all kids? Right? Just because you are in third fucking grade or whatever doesn’t mean anyone here has to listen to you.”

I turned to Conner, but he wouldn’t look at me. I said, “Come on, Conner. Let’s just go and throw the ball, OK? It’s your ball anyway, right? We don’t need these assholes.”

Conner said in a tiny voice, “Um. Sorry, Kaylee. The guys make fun of me for playing with you. They say you’re bad. And if I play with you, they won’t let me play with them.”

I stared at him dumbstruck, “But it’s your fucking ball! I mean, fuck- this doesn’t make any sense.” I looked at the other boys, some of whom had been on my team previously for a sign of encouragement- support, anything! I received none, and faltering momentarily, feeling the weight of my forced gender on my flailing adult mind, I sniffled and tenderly bit my lip.

The older boy said, “See? See? She’s just a big cry baby. She’s going to get us in trouble again. She didn’t even tackle me or anything. I slipped, and she kind of fell on me.”

I knew that it was a bold-faced lie- the kind that I told my mom when I was planning on sneaking out to be with Hannah past my curfew. “No, I’m not seeing Hannah, just going to check on some homework at a buddy’s place.” Of course, I didn’t do homework, so it was a terrible lie. Despite the obvious, a tiny seed of doubt was planted. Maybe the boy was right. Could I have just been lucky? But wasn’t I running and keeping up with the boys? Shit. When did they become simply the boys? Wasn’t I one too?

I turned to Conner again, the only friend that I had in the whole school, for a vote of confidence, and despite his earlier comment, he knew the truth. He had seen it as he was standing next to me. He even smiled when the older boy went down with a thud on the hard-packed grass. “You know what he is saying is bullshit, right? You saw what happened. And I’m fast.” Conner wouldn’t even look at me.

My brain suddenly took off, the slow gears now rapidly turning out of control until my reasoned thought fled and I sputtered out, “I’ll race you. All of you.”

The older boy laughed. I hated his face. He was mean, and he made me so mad. “Me. If you beat me, then you can play with us.”

We took our positions at the opposite end of the makeshift football field. At the count of three, we were off. Mrs. Carmichael had retied the ribbon, saying how pretty it was in my hair, so the formerly loose strands were effectively bound. The boys had placed themselves along the side of the race path, cheering loudly. None of them, however, for me. The name of the hated boy, Gavin, was rapidly thrust from my mind. I placed all of my focus on simply winning the race.

My body was growing used to the speed, the rapid pumping of legs and arms. My formerly awkward gait that would have brought cries of, “She runs like a girl!” was gone, and I realized that Ashley was right. It just took practice and the establishment of muscle memory. With the genes I possessed, the perfect collection of strands, I was a natural athlete. I struggled at first in gymnastics, and then with time, I became one of the best. It was clear that it was the serum because even in my former body, it never came so easily.

Everything the boys were saying about my abilities was bullshit.

I shot ahead of Gavin, but he still thundered behind me, like some great snarling beast chasing his prey. He slowly caught up to me, getting close enough for me to hear his heavy breathing. As we sprinted toward the finish, however, Gavin hit another gear and blew past me. He ran between the two massive oak trees that represented the finish line. I hadn’t tripped on anything, even the skirt which swished against my legs hadn’t impeded me, and the asshole hadn’t even cheated. I had simply lost. I realized that while Ashley had been right about certain things regarding my body and my new gender especially with the muscle memory, my comment in the studio about never reaching the same heights, the same speed or strength rang bitterly true.

I was never going to be as fast or as strong as Gavin. It would be that way with most boys. I could lift weights and build massive arms and legs, rippling biceps to put most men to shame, but I would be called ugly, a butch, or a lesbian. Denigrated because of my attempt to match them. I knew that because I had those thoughts when a woman came after me and immediately upped the amount of weight on a machine. Muscles were a turn-off, in that, they destroyed feminine curves and gave women undeniably male shapes.

Just like that, I was sapped of my former confidence. The serum had provided no great gift. This body was simply a tease, easily matching the girls, but it would always struggle to equal the boys. I had never tackled Gavin- he just fell. And while I thought I was fast, half the boys were probably faster than me. Maybe more. Just to torture me further, my ribbon came loose, and my long hair swept across my face, the wind seemingly playing along with some cruel joke. I was really starting to hate my hair.

The boys laughed at me, the equivalent to kicking a man in the balls when he is already down, and again, I cried. I began to realize that maybe the boys were right. The boys.

Maybe, I was a cry baby. No wonder they didn’t want me to play with them. I probably would get them in trouble again because I cry so easily- the wounded deer that attracts all the predators.

I fled the scene awkwardly, trying to hide the fact that I was crying by covering my face, but looking like some kind of tiny old-school vampire. The kind from old monster movies who used his cape to hide his fangs.

From a distance, I watched Ava’s group. The wind, that traitorous entity, brought the sounds of their play, and in seconds, I knew exactly what they were doing. Frozen. I fumbled around in my pockets for my dad’s pin, but I knew it wasn’t there. It was in the pocket of my grass-stained pants in a plastic bag at the bottom of my Frozen backpack.

Stupid little girl. That’s what I was. I couldn’t even remember to bring the most important object- the one I needed to maintain my grasp on what remained of Ryan Sullivan. Despite the lack of the object and the calming presence it brought, I continued to fight the urges, but I failed. The problem was that it simply wasn’t the urge to join the girls nor the fact that I hadn’t been accepted by the boys. Those were contributing factors, but it was something else.

I was bored.

At the beginning, I had just stood in the school yard and held my dad’s pin. It had been easy, but now that I was actually used to playing, even playing harmless games to my adult self, I wanted more. My mind was used to being busy- to the stimulation.

It was boredom that brought me toward them, and it was boredom that had me immediately agree to be Olaf, the magic snowman, surrounded by three different girls playing Elsa.

The bell rang, and I was saved, but I didn’t feel any safer. Tomorrow I would probably forget the pin again, and without Conner, I would succumb. I was already like them, shrieking at bugs, obsessed with Frozen to an unhealthy degree. I was already dressed like them. Ava even said my dress was pretty, and I wanted to do my hair exactly like Ava. I knew the urge to play with them was all powerful- it was more than just staving off boredom. It was finding people like me to play with- girls. The battle would begin at the start of every recess, and without Conner, without the boys, the end was inevitable. The serum had won.

As I trudged toward the school, resigned to my fate. I saw a girl with long raven hair surrounded by others her age.

She looked exactly like Ashley.