Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I promise this is not going to be just another forced fem story, although there is this aspect to the story—my hope is that it will be a journey of discovery for Joey and that I can portray that journey adequately in the manner that I envision it. There will be some happy times and some sad times ahead—if you want, watch that journey with me as it unfolds.

I look at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time today. It has moved all of 90 seconds. I am officially going to die! This day is never going to end… I play with my pencil and groan silently to myself. I look at the math equations on the board and unsuccessfully fight a yawn…

“Joey! If you are not going to pay attention, then go and see Ms. Rogers…again! I swear, this is the fifth time this week and it is only Tuesday!” I startle as Ms. McMillan, my math teacher, sends me to the principal’s office. I sigh and wordlessly get up. I leave the room to the sniggering of the others in the classroom…

I wait outside Ms. Rogers’ office as she has a ‘conference’ with my mother. My dad is out of town on a business trip, not that that matters—Mom is a ‘stay-at-home’ mom and is the one that always gets called to these meetings…

I guess a bit of background would be good at this point… Let me introduce myself; I am Joey Rousseau. I am fifteen and in tenth grade. I have a younger sister, Amy, who is 14, and a younger brother, Josh, who is ten. There is not a lot else to say, really. We live in a boring backwards town where I attend a boring backwards school. I am not a bad kid, really—I am just bored all of the time. School is just so boring. My grades are good but I am seemingly always in trouble anyway; even though I am not really doing anything to warrant it. The teachers just seem to think I am not paying attention—it is just that I am bored to death…

There is not really anything for me to do around here that is in any way stimulating. I am a scrawny kid for fifteen; my dad tells me that runs in the family. It seems that he did not hit puberty until he was almost eighteen. The only consolation is that when puberty does hit men in our family, it hits with a vengeance. My dad is quite well built and loves going to the gym. He does not push me to go, though, knowing how it feels to be a ‘late bloomer’. My mom is gorgeous—it seems puberty is not issue on her side of the family unless you consider full-blown curves for girls at fourteen an issue. Amy is a testament to that; she could put many eighteen-olds to shame. Mom is also quite smart, but elected to put any career options aside after she got pregnant with me at sixteen. In this town, women are expected to be good little housewives and take care of the kids, anyway, which is exactly my Dad’s way of thinking. He got a “man’s job” at eighteen when he married my pregnant mom and expected her to do her part for the family. Of course, all of this has shaped my views on gender, as well…

I startle again as the door to Ms. Rogers’ office opens and she beckons me in. Mom gives me that look and I shudder involuntarily. She has never lifted a finger against me but I hate disappointing her. She just shakes her head and says, “Why can’t you be like your sister and brother? They never give me any grief!” Ms. Rogers gives me a semi-encouraging smile and says, “Have a seat, Joey. I know that you are not trying to cause any grief. We have finally figured out what your ‘problem’ is. You really are bored with the material here because you are technically a genius. There is no sense in your continuing school here—we can’t challenge you.” I give her an incredulous look and then glance over at Mom, who is trying to hide a bit of pride that is none-the-less showing on her face. Ms. Rogers continues, “I have contacted my alma mater, St. Paul’s, and with the scores you achieved on that test I gave you last week, they are willing to give you a full academic scholarship.” I blink. St. Paul’s? But… I clear my throat and sort of squeak, “St. Paul’s? That’s a girl’s college!” Ms. Rogers smiles and shakes her head as she says, “No, not any more. They went co-ed this year. You will be one of their first male students—one of eight. You will be a couple of firsts for them, actually—first male scholarship recipient and first teenage genius of either gender. You have missed the first couple weeks of class, but that should not be a problem with your skills. The fact that they are on a different schedule than most colleges and started later is what means you won’t have to wait until next year, anyway. Your Mom is going to take you over there right now to enroll you and get your class schedule. Your options are limited because of your late enrollment, but that will be better next year. Good luck, Joey—or should I say Joseph now that you are a college man?” She grins and ushers Mom and me to the door…

I sit in the car, shell-shocked. So that is why it has been so boring for me…but college? And a girl’s one at that. Yeah, it may be co-ed now, but no one is going to see it that way. It will always be “Joey is going to a girl’s school!” I look over at Mom and gingerly ask, “Mom, is this really a good idea? Shouldn’t we wait on Dad, I mean? Won’t he be mad?” Mom gives me a sidelong glance and says, “You let me deal with your Dad. I missed out on a lot of good opportunities in life; college being one of them. You are getting a full academic ride—as long as you maintain your grades, which Ms. Rogers assures me won’t be a problem if you apply yourself. Your Dad is not one to value education like I do, but he is not going to argue with ‘free’. You had just better not embarrass me and drop out or anything…”

The rest of the two-hour ride to the campus is fairly quiet. I stew about how Dad is not going to like Mom meddling like this; it is not something she should be deciding—that is the man’s job… But, I know enough to keep quiet to Mom. Dad will get this mess straightened out. I only had one more boring year of school and then I could have dropped out and found a man’s job somewhere… At this rate, Amy will be married and have kids before I can even think about getting one… I also know that Mom has powers over Dad, ones I don’t understand—so, for now, until Dad rescues me, I decide to go along with this insanity and give it my best.

When we finally pull onto campus I can’t help but groan out loud. It is a strict Catholic campus and looks like something from Dracula’s revenge. The main building is old and made out of weathered stone. It is covered in ivy and gives me the shudders just looking at it. It must be lunch break because all I see are college girls milling around in the college’s uniform of a white blouse, burgundy scarf, dark grey skirt, and navy blue blazer. I glance around and see two guys standing by themselves, both considerably older than me, in dark grey pants with a white shirt, burgundy tie, and navy jacket. They look uncomfortable in their clothes, but are seemingly enjoying the ‘view’. There is also a mix of nuns and ‘civilian’ women mingling with the crowds. Mom interrupts my visual reconnaissance of the area and ushers me into the main building.

After a short meeting with the ‘Mother Superior’, who welcomes me, and three additional hours of administrative meetings and paperwork, I find myself in my dorm room. Since I was not expected, they did not have a room for me together with the other guys and I was on a different floor, at the end of a long hallway full of girls’ rooms. It is a handicap room, meaning that I don’t have to share and it has its own bathroom—so, that is a small consolation. Mom is putting my new uniforms and other clothes into the closet and I get pale as I realize that I have no idea how to tie a tie. She giggles and shows me. She giggles more at my incredulous look and says, “What? I have been watching your Dad do this every morning for over fifteen years. You don’t think I would pick up on how to do it?” After a little while longer, she hugs me and is out the door—leaving me to my uncertain fate.

At first I just sit there and stare at the door, then I finally pull out my schedule and sit down at my desk. I look around the room for the thousandth time. It is austere. Basically, it is a bunk, a simple desk and chair, a worn rug on the polished hardwood floor, and…a well-lit mirrored vanity. I shake my head at that and look down at my schedule. Ms. Rogers had been right—it is not anything that I would have normally chosen. I got into some good math classes, but the only history classes that were available were ‘Woman’s History 101’ and ‘Great Women of the World’, a special topics class, that was added to fill up my schedule. This is just great… Not only am I stuck in a girl’s school, but I am going to have to be subjected to how ‘great’ they are… I roll my eyes and notice that it is time to go down to supper.

I almost jump back into my room as soon as I open my door and enter the hallway. It is full of girls—in ‘normal’ clothes. The hall bathroom is at my end of the hallway—and is where all of the girls go. I am almost run over by a girl in a bathrobe hurrying out, her hair wrapped in a towel. She had obviously just taken a shower and a strong flowery scent follows her as she rushes by, giving me a surprised look as she does. Suddenly I am surrounded by girls asking all kinds of questions…

My ‘posse’ of girls escorts me to the dining hall where I am thankfully rescued by the guys. They are disappointed, though, that I am so young, so I know that I won’t be able to count on too much rescuing in the future… After I quietly eat, listening to the guys talk, I dejectedly walk back to my residence hall and up the five flights of stairs to my floor. I don’t even make it halfway down the hall to my room before I am pulled into a room full of giggling girls wanting to ‘know everything about me’… I answer what seems like a million personal questions and finally make it back to my room right at eleven, which is lights out.

The next morning, the alarm goes off and my heart pounds as I wake up to an unfamiliar room. When I finally remember where I am, I laugh at myself and get up to go shower. I dry off and get out one of the uniforms from my closet. I sit at the vanity and struggle with the tie, but finally get it knotted; well, sort of…. I shrug and hurry out into the hallway. It is empty and I look at my watch. Breakfast had started 15 minutes ago and I had been warned that if I missed it, it was a long time to lunch… I hurry to the dining hall and find a seat at a table that just has one girl sitting at it. She introduces herself as ‘Emily’ and giggles when she sees my tie. She finishes her bite of egg and says, “Silly! First, you shouldn’t put that on until after you eat and brush your teeth. Do you notice any of the guys with a tie—or the girls with their scarves on? She wipes her hands on her napkin and reaches and straightens my tie into a nice tidy knot. She shrugs and finishes the last bite of her egg. She gets up to leave and smiles as she says, “See you in class. I assume you have algebra first?” I nod and she hurries off.

Twenty minutes later, I enter the room where I am to have my first college class—algebra. I was told that this will be an easy class for me, but that I need to take it, since I had never had algebra before and need the foundation. I sit down towards the middle of the class and a few minutes later a flood of girls and a couple of the guys come in. I smile as I see Emily and she comes over and sits next to me. I am lost in class, at first, since I missed the first two weeks, but Emily points out a few things in the book and I quickly catch up. That is when I find out that Emily is three doors down from me and we decide to study together—she is a freshman, like me, and has several of the same classes that I do—including the women’s classes.

The rest of the day passes quickly and before I know it Emily and I are sitting in my room going over the day’s lessons. She quickly got comfortable in my room; she kicked her heels off, and is sitting on my bed quizzing me on some of the woman’s history stuff. Finally, I groan, “Why am I learning this stuff? This may be important for you, but I have no need for it.” She giggles and says, “What is the matter, Joey? Are you saying that women aren’t important?” I shrug and say, “No. That is not what I am saying at all. Women are important. Someone has to keep the home fires burning, right?” I see a flash of anger in her eyes and then just as quickly it is gone as she says, “Oh, you are teasing me. You rascal! I hope you aren’t truly chauvinistic—that won’t go over well at this college.” She giggles again and starts quizzing me some more.

When it is time to go get supper, she sits down at my empty vanity and turns on the light. She pulls a ton of makeup from her purse and starts working on ‘refreshing’ her face. While she is doing that, I sort of stare at her—she really is very pretty. She giggles again and asks, “What? You want to put some on, too?” I turn bright red and say very emphatically, “NO! Not at all! I am just wondering…well, I noticed all of you girls are made up to the nines here. You are all very pretty and always well-dressed—not a hair out of place. That just doesn’t fit in with how I thought it would be at a Catholic school, college or not.” She really giggles at that and says, “Silly! This college was founded to make women as successful as they can be. It is ingrained in the ethos here that you have to take care of yourself and look good to be successful. Did you not get the speech about staying well-dressed and groomed?” I roll my eyes and nod my head as she finishes putting on her lip gloss. She turns off the lights on the vanity and we go out into the throngs in the hallway to make our way to supper.

The next day is my first ‘Great Women of the World’ class. Mrs. Braun is the professor and pulls me aside as the other girls get to work on their projects—I am the only guy in this class. She explains to me that the purpose of this class is to turn in a research project and term paper on the important contributions to society by a woman of my choosing. My first deliverable is to pick my important woman and outline why I chose her—what are the attributes that made me think her worthy. She look at me and says, “This is due today and I cannot give you an extension as the rest of the term is dependent on this choice. I realize that it is short notice and the others have had a couple of weeks to decide, so I will give you a little leeway, but it needs to be a good-faith effort. I also realize that you did not really choose this class and probably never would, but remember that you have to pass this class to keep your scholarship…”

I go back to my seat and open my laptop. I google “Important Women” and get a long list of such women as Hillary Clinton, Margaret Thatcher, Madame Curie… I groan. I can’t put these forth, I could never make it seem like I believe it myself… I look back at the list of questions—“What are your person’s assets that make them important? What importance are they and to whom?...” The list goes on…then it hits me and I do another Google search before I start furiously typing. I email my paper to Mrs. Braun right as the class ends and sigh. She gives me a look as I leave the room and she does not look happy…

I get an email the next day to appear in the Mother Superior’s office. I groan and make my way at the appointed hour. Mrs. Braun is waiting in the room with her. I shrink a little. The Mother Superior tells me to come in, to close the door behind me, and to sit down. Mrs. Braun wastes no time in starting the berating, “Is this all a joke to you Mr. Rousseau? At this point, you are sitting at a square ‘F’ for my class. There is no way to pass now, I am afraid. You lost your scholarship on your second day here. That is quite the record to add to your ‘firsts’ here!” The Mother Superior looks grim but adds, “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Joey?” I blush and say, “I meant no disrespect, really! To me, Scarlet Johansen really is an important woman. OK, I am looking at it from a teenage boy’s point of view, but that is the only one I have. She was just awesome in the Avengers!” Mother Superior looks at me intensely and then turns to Mrs. Braun to say, “You know, Milly, he has a point.” She continues, ignoring Mrs. Braun’s blusters, “He comes from a town that views women like we are still in the 50’s. His Mom told me that his Dad is right there with that thinking. Plus, just because he is a genius doesn’t mean he is mature—we are used to mature young women, not immature brat boys. Maybe we should give him another chance—a way to earn some extra credit and pass your class if he takes it seriously and does well?” She takes Mrs. Braun into a side conference room and closes the door, leaving me to myself for several minutes. Finally, they both come back in. Mother Superior looks at me and says, “Joey, are you willing to do what it takes to get back into good academic standing at this college? Mrs. Braun has agreed to my proposal…and so has your Mom.” My heart jumps at that one…Mom will KILL me if I get thrown out and Dad is still gone so I can’t expect help from him… I timidly nod, not even asking…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As the story progresses, please remember that this is fiction. I am not in any way holding myself to reality, just ‘near’ reality. I am in no way endorsing some of the actions in this story as realistic, so please don’t get upset if some things happen that should not really ever happen in true life—at least not in a responsible environment. They are only meant to help the flow of this fictional story and should not be taken seriously.

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joey realizes that he has lost control of his life for the foreseeable future.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I must caution readers that this particular chapter in the story may be offensive to some. It includes scenes that many would consider abusive in nature. To be honest, they are, but there is a reason for this that will come out later in the stories within this universe.

If you do not think that you want to read this particular chapter, then here is a sanitized synopsis so that you can skip to the next one and still follow the story line: Joey is forced by the group he calls the Joy-Squad to be pierced and tattooed. He is obviously confused and hurt, both physically and mentally. This is NOT the theme of the rest of the book.

I look at the sea of girls before me—well, OK it is ten to be exact—but it is intimidating none-the-less to be in the hot seat in front of these girls. Emily is among them and I am most ashamed to be doing this in front of her. I really don’t want her to think badly of me…

Mrs. Braun taps her foot behind me and says, “Well? Are we going to get this show on the road or am I going to just have to the curtain call? Swan song, Joey?” I grimace and look back out at the feminine sea in front of me. I sigh and say, “Ummm, I don’t really know where to start. It seems my choice of important woman was not in keeping with the standards of this class.” One of the girls, a beautiful red-head named Shauna pipes up and asks, “Why? Who did you pick? Jenna Jameson?” I blush profusely. I don’t know if it is the question or the fact that I even know who that is… I shake my head and lamely respond, “No. Err…Scarlet Johansen…” There is a lot of loud laughter from the class until Mrs. Braun shuts it down with a “Girls!” Shauna looks at me again and asks, “So, who else would be in your top three?” I blush and Mrs. Braun says, “Go on. Answer her!” I gulp and whisper, “Well, Christina Aguilera and Emma Watson, I guess…” More giggling then a hushed silence as Mrs. Braun explains why we are here, “As you girls can see, our genius boy Joey here is not quite in line with the level of this class. He claims that is because he does not have the proper perspective to make a proper choice. I have agreed to allow him a chance to get some extra credit, so he will not fail this class and lose his scholarship. That is where you girls come in… Mr. Rousseau has agreed to become Ms. Rousseau for the remainder of the year. If ‘she’ can convince me that ‘she’ is worthy of a passing grade then all is well and Mr. Rousseau can finish out his studies here without any issues from me. If not, well…”

Mrs. Braun has to rap on her desk several times to get the chatter to stop. She continues, “You have an idea of the kind of girl that Mr. Rousseau here thinks is ideal. I trust the lot of you can make him into some semblance of that. If he gives you any resistance—or seems to show any signs of not taking this learning experience seriously, then I want to hear about it.”

More rapping on the desk and Mrs. Braun continues, “So, girls, I would like you take on Ms. Rousseau as a project. If Joey can get extra credit in this class, then so can the rest of you. If you can turn our Joey here into a bona-fied Joy by the end of the year—one that I can take to any venue without question, then you will each earn an ‘A’ for the class—no matter what the rest of your work looks like. That will, of course, require detailed journaling of your contributions and feelings of the process along the way—a juicy blow-by-blow diary, in other words. Deal?”

This time there is no rapping for quiet as the mob of girls descends on me…

A few of the girls stay behind to talk to Mrs. Braun as the rest, Emily in the lead, take me to my room. In a matter of minutes I am seated at my vanity in the middle of six chattering, giggling girls. They are fighting over how the best way is to turn me into ‘Joy’… A little later, the other three girls, led by Shauna come in and Shauna raises her hand for quiet. When the babbling settles down, she says, “The terms of the agreement are that we are in charge and anything is fair to give ‘Joy’ here a fair assessment of what being a girl is like. We are to use ‘her’ top-three important women list as inspiration. The key is that, in the end, ‘Joy’ is supposed to be a real person—a real girl. That is what we will be graded on. How she puts that to use is what ’she’ will be graded on… So, ‘Joy’, what is it you like about your top-three?”

I spend the next several hours being grilled about what I like about Scarlet—her boobs, her hair, her face…? Then the same about Christina, and then about Emma… Finally, the throng, save Emily, disperses to do whatever it was that Shauna had doled out for them to do. Shauna, it seems has turned out to be the leader of the ‘material’ things. I look at Emily and she shakes her head as she says, “You really got yourself into something here, Sport.” Emily is to be my main “inner” advisor. Phase one is mostly on Shauna to get me to outwardly look like a girl. Emily’s job is get to me to feel and act like one—phase two. The others will be in various support roles during those phases… Emily looks back over at me and asks, “How did you think that was going to go?” She looks at me hard and then giggles as she says, “You really DON’T get it, do you? You adorable, sweet little brat.” Then she surprises me as she kisses me full-on; tongue and all. “She grins and says, “We will have to work on that now, won’t we? First time? I guess I keep forgetting that I am three years older than you… Anyways—get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for you. This weekend will likely be worse…”

I wake up, once again confused, to insistent pounding on my door—I am wrapped up in my bed and can’t seem to get out from under the covers. I finally figure out is my…nightgown? Oh yeah. My nightmare begins today… I stagger to the door and finally get it open. Shauna is standing there, impatiently tapping her foot. She looks at me and says in an exasperated voice, “What? You are still in bed? Girl, you need to get with it! You are lucky that we have a pass on all classes today…Mrs. Braun has more pull than I thought—I guess it helps to be the Mother Superior’s right-hand gal… Come on, we have a tight schedule today… Get dressed…jeans or something neutral. We will get you girlied up as the day progresses…”

An hour later, I am with three of the girls in the closest town—in the town’s only salon. Georgette, one of my ‘Joy-squad’, as they have started calling themselves, works here part-time. The place is normally not open Friday mornings, so we have the salon to ourselves. Georgette starts giving orders and I find myself stripped down to my undies. Paula and Gwen are the two ‘helpers’ and Gwen just pulls off my undies leaving me naked in front of them. They all three giggle at my under-whelming ‘equipment’—of course it is small; I have not even come close to puberty yet… Georgette looks me over and says, “Well, the good news is that you are already mostly hairless. This won’t take long…” She has me lay down on a table and waxes my entire body, including my face—removing what little fuzz I have. When she is done, I am smooth as a baby’s bottom—all over. At that moment, Shauna walks in with a box. It looks kind of heavy, but I am more worried about the shocked look she gives my naked body—then the giggles… She hands the box to Georgette and asks how it is going. Georgette smiles and says, “We were just getting ready for the laser…” The next hour is spent running a laser over my entire body—where I had just been waxed. They explain to me that it will slow down the growth of the little hair that I have. After that, Georgette has me lay back down on a table and opens a can of what smells like glue of some sort. She makes some marks on my chest and starts spreading what obviously is glue over my chest. Then she presses a cold jiggly mass down, first on one side, then the other. The weight on my chest is disconcerting, but she just keeps pushing down on it. After a bit, she says, “OK, sit up and let’s see how they look.” I sit up and the weights pull down on my chest. I look down and feel the blood drain from my face. I stutter, “I…I…I have…boobs!” The girls laugh and Gwen says, “Yeah. D-cups. Just like you covet…”

I get up off of the table and Shauna hands me a really short pink satin robe. I pull it on and tie the string-belt around my waist. Georgette leads me to one of the chairs at a sink and washes my hair. My hair is not really long by most standards and is sort of a muddy brown. After she has rinsed it out, she leads me to a regular stylist’s chair. She looks at me and says, “We have decided that the best compromise of your ‘important’ women is turn you into a pretty strawberry blonde…” With that she starts mixing up some smelly chemicals and spreads them all over my hair, making sure that it is all saturated with the goop. While she is doing that, Gwen has put my feet and hands into a hot liquid of some sort. I quickly figure out it is wax when she pulls them out and it cools into a coating. She removes the wax and then sets out working on my nails—both hands and feet. She meticulously removes my cuticles, using some sort of caustic liquid and wooden stick of some sort. Then she cuts my nails short and files them smooth.

I lose track of what is happening for a while after that. Georgette rinses my hair and starts adding in long hair extensions that are the same color as my newly-dyed strawberry blondness. Gwen starts gluing ‘claws’ to my nails and is busy doing things that I try my best to ignore. All I know is she is busy mixing pasty stuff, putting it on my nails and buffing it out… An hour or so later, Gwen is finishing up filing my nails and Georgette is cutting my hair that is now miraculously falling below my shoulders. As Georgette finishes cutting my hair, I smell the unmistakable scent of lacquer and know that Gwen is applying nail polish of some sort to my nails. I can’t look right now as Georgette is in control of how I hold my head. I am faced away from the mirror, so I don’t even know what she is up to…

Georgette finishes cutting my hair and leaves it damp. Gwen keeps working on my nails…and Shauna starts working on my face. First, she applies a clay-like coating to my face that I later learn is a ‘mud pack’ and lets it dry. By the time it is done and Shauna is pulling it from my face, along with half of my skin it seems, Gwen is done with my nails. Shauna then turns my chair towards the mirror and tells me to pay close attention. I don’t have time to look at my nails but can feel that they are really long. My hair is a long wet mess that Shauna brushes and clips out of my face with little ‘butterfly clips’. Then she starts explaining all of the makeup that she is using—expecting me to remember what she is saying and doing. It is a blur of foundation, eye liner (something about cats), eye shadow (in three shades), mascara (something about butterflies), blush, lip liner, lip stick, lip gloss, and oh…who knows what else…

I am shocked at my face when Shauna is done, but Georgette quickly turns me away from the mirror and starts keeping my attention as she is drying my hair…talking about rolling a brush this way and that as you are blowing it dry… I am completely lost when she turns the blow dryer off. I am flabbergasted when she turns me back towards the mirror and I see myself… I stutter, “I…I…I look like a girl…like a pretty girl. H…h…ho…how can that be?!?!?” The other girls laugh and Shauna says, “Hon, we are just getting started…!”

I am lost in my face in the mirror. The layered strawberry blond hair feathered into my face. The eyes, perfectly made up to pull you into the deep pools of green. The glistening ruby-red lips—plump and moist. I raise my hands to my face and see the long French tips on my fingers. Gwen says, “They are just a quarter inch for now. We will get them to glamour-length once you have a chance to adjust to them.” I glance down at my toes and see the deep red color on the nails—a tough gel finish perfectly matching my lips…

Shauna looks out the door and waves us over. She says, “Joy, we are just going next door. No one is looking right now, so…hurry up!” Before I know what is going on, I am ushered out the door and over to store next door…all just wearing my pink uber-short robe and some flip-flops that came from who-knows-where. I feel like my new ‘boobs’ are going to bounce up and hit me in the eye as we rush over… When we get inside, I see Clarissa, another of the ‘Joy-Squad’ talking to a heavily pierced and tattooed girl. Shauna grins at me and says, “This is where you meet one of the more ‘naughty’ sides of your idols. Be prepared to be pierced and tattooed—all in the vein of your ‘important’ women…” I look at her and feel the blood drain from my face…for the thousandth time today. I stutter in a whiny voice, “B…b….bbb…but that is really permanent…do we have to…” Shauna looks at me sternly and asks, “Now Joy, do I have to tell Mrs. Braun that you are resisting? No? I didn’t think so. Remember, we won’t do anything to you that your ‘important’ women wouldn’t do to themselves…”

Shauna leads me over to Clarissa and the tattooed girl, whose name is Zoey I am told. Zoey has me sit down on a stool and tells me to sit up straight. She looks at Clarissa and says, “So, let me make sure I have this right. You want her to have both earlobes triple-pierced, along with the right upper ear cartilage, the left inner ear cartilage, the left side of the nose, and the navel? Did I miss anything on the piercings?” Clarissa nods her head and says, “That should do it…for now.” Zoey nods and then continues, “As for the tattoos: the Chinese symbol for ‘joy’ down the back of her neck—about 4 inches; the colorful hummingbird we discussed in bright colors on her left butt cheek—about 6 inches; and a Celtic joy knot on the inside of her right ankle—about 3 inches? Did I miss anything on that?” Clarissa shakes her head. Then Zoey asks, “And you are sure on that final procedure? That is expensive on top of all of this. You are going to owe me a lot of hours in the shop, girl.” Clarissa says, “Yes, I am sure. We will work it all out. Joy here is worth it, aren’t you, Sweetie?” I had gotten more and more pale with each item listed and am feeling really faint. I know better than to argue, though. I smile wanly and just nod my head.

Zoey goes over to a cart and wheels it closer. She loads several piercing guns with starter earrings. She makes several marks on each ear and looks at Clarissa to confirm the placement. She just nods her acquiescence. When Zoey pierces my ear lobes, it does not really hurt much—not physically anyway; but with each ‘pop’ of the gun I get more and more emotional. When she is done with the ear lobes, I am allowed a quick look in the mirror. I have a succession of ‘diamond’ studs in each ear, from large to small—front to back. The large ones are about a 1/4-inch in diameter and the small ones maybe 1/8. She then pierces the upper cartilage of my right ear, which hurts, and places a 1/2-inch gold hoop in it. Then she pierces the cartilage fold inside my left ear, which hurts a lot and places a small gold hoop in it. Another extremely painful pop and the left side of my nose is pierced and fitted with another small gold hoop. Finally, she has me lie down on my back and picks up a nasty pair of pointy pliers. She grabs the fleshy fold above my naval and stretches it before punching a hole in my naval. I nearly pass out as she puts a piece of jewelry in the piercing—it has a large ‘diamond’ jewel that sort of stretches my navel, it is so big. There is a smaller sparkly clear blue stone protruding from the top hole above my navel.

If I thought that was bad, I had another thing coming. Zoey has me lie on my very sore tummy and starts drawing on the back of my neck with a marker of some sort. Clarissa had put my newly long hair into a tight bun high on my head. Then Zoey starts drawing on my left butt cheek. After a minute, Clarissa starts pointing and touching my thigh and my back around that area and I hear Zoey ask, “Are you sure? Of course I can—it would be pretty. OK, you are the boss.” I feel the drawing get bigger—going down and around my left thigh a bit and up onto my back, towards the small of it. It feels like she is drawing some sort of swirls, or something. Then, finally, she draws a symbol on the inside of my right ankle, about an inch or so above my foot. After that, I hear a sharp buzzing and pure, unadulterated pain as the needles bite into the back of my neck and upper spine delivering the permanent ink deep under my skin that I am so dreading.

After a few minutes, I guess I start to get used to the pain a bit. It still hurts like you-know-what, though and I think I may have even whimpered a bit. Shauna comes into view with a box of red wine and pours a large glass of it. She hands it to me and says, “Here! We are not barbarians. This will take the edge off—the whole box is yours; we have our own!” She giggles and goes back around to watch the progress Zoey is making. The next hours are a blur of buzzing, pain, and…relief as the wine kicks in. Now, mind you, I had never had wine before this and, after a couple of gulps, I am already feeling it and relaxing…

I lose track of time gulping the wine and the next thing I know Zoey and the girls help me turn over onto my sore back; I am so sloshed by now that I don't care. Through the fog, I feel Zoey messing around with my little guy below and…it feels like she is sticking something UP it… Shauna just lifts my head up and gives me another gulp of wine. I feel two sharp pains somewhere down there…it is hard to pinpoint at this point. I hear Zoey say something like, “Once the holes have healed, the bar can be removed and the front is like a normal Prince Albert that can sport a curved barbell that will fully plug the front, since the urine will exit through this hole back here…” I have no idea what she is saying.

A moment later, I mercifully pass out…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As the story progresses, please remember that this is fiction. I am not in any way holding myself to reality, just ‘near’ reality. I am in no way endorsing some of the actions in this story as realistic, so please don’t get upset if some things happen that should not really ever happen in true life—at least not in a responsible environment. They are only meant to help the flow of this fictional story and should not be taken seriously.

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joey finds a protector—and it is not his Dad….

I wake up to the headache from, well, Hell… My mouth feels like it is lined with cotton; my tongue feels like parched leather. I groan and look around the room with eyes that feel like they have been sand-blasted. There is subdued light barely making its way through the heavy pink fabric of my curtains. I cough and groan again. I try and sit up and the weights on my chest make me have to give it an extra attempt before I am actually able to sit unsteadily on the bed. My back feels like it is on fire. My ears are hot. My belly button area is pulsing with pain. I feel like CRAP!

I am sitting there in self-pity when the door bursts open, flooding the room with bright light. I literally scream--both from being startled…and the pain the noise and light causes my aching head. Emily happily bounces in and says, “Girl! You look like C-R-A-P! Come on, we need to get you presentable. You have a really busy day.” She is carrying a tray and sets it down on my desk. She helps me stand up—I almost fall flat on my face—and over to my chair. She says, “I didn’t figure you would want to go down to breakfast, so I brought breakfast up to you. Don’t get used to it! Here…DRINK! It is the best thing you can do.” She hands me a very large glass of orange juice that I greedily gulp down. In the meantime, she fills a large pitcher with water and I gulp down a couple of glasses of that. By then, my throat does not feel like it is AS coated with ground glass. Emily makes me take a few bites of toast and some scrambled eggs, then she hands me a couple of white caplets and a cup of steaming hot strong coffee and says, “Ibuprofen and caffeine…the manna of the Gods when it comes to hangovers…” I gulp down the medicine with the hot coffee and give her a thankful look.

Emily tells me I can’t take a shower because of my new tattoos, but she offers to help wash my hair and give me a sponge bath. As I start towards the bathroom, I realize that I have to pee really badly after drinking all that I had. I tell Emily to give me a minute and go ahead in. I lift the toilet seat and reach down to grab my little guy. I yelp in surprise as I find some sort of rod running through him. It does not take me long to figure out that whatever the contraption is, that it will interfere with me peeing. I don’t have time to think too much about it, because I can’t stop the pressure—I really have to pee. Only…it the pee is all coming out of a hole in the wrong place and is dribbling down my leg. Emily comes in and quickly drops the toilet seat and makes me sit down to finish. She says, “You were modified a bit…you will have to always sit like a girl to pee now…” I sit there in shock as my pee tinkles out like a girl. Emily shows me how to properly wipe. She looks a little disturbed and says, “Just so you know—I did not and do not agree with…this…”

I look at Emily and seriously feel like crying. This is too much…what did I do to deserve this? With a bit of venom in my voice, I ask, “Why have you all turned on me? Turned me into some sort of caricature…basically a bimbo…?” Emily looks at me perplexed and turns it around on me, as she says, “While some of it may have been a bit overboard, it i/em> what you described to us as the perfect woman—what an important woman is like… What is not to your liking?” I sigh as she starts to help me sponge off…At least the ibuprofen is beginning to kick in… I lick my still parched lips and say, “This…” I gesture towards myself. “This…looks more like…Mylie Cyrus or Britany Spears —or at least what they pretend to represent for shock value… but, there is really no sense in discussing it—you and your posse have made up your minds; and seem to have Mrs. Braun and the Mother Superior behind you. I am not so sure about my Mom—I KNOW my Dad will have a fit when HE finds out…” Emily looks very pensive after that as she quietly helps me finish washing off…

Emily almost has my hair blown dry when my door once again is thrown open. I guess I can kiss any sort of privacy goodbye for now… Shauna comes rushing in with a bag in her hand, pulls Emily to one side, and whispers in an agitated manner into her ear. Emily looks at her and says, “How should I know? Yesterday was your show…remember?” Shauna rolls her eyes and starts pulling some clothes out of the bag. She comes over to me and says, “We are going to have to find some makeshift clothes for you. Our plan was to take you shopping and get you outfitted today, but, for some reason, the Mother Superior wants to see you right away. I grabbed some things from the other girls that we think might fit… Oh, and you haven’t even started your makeup yet. This is a DISASTER!”

The next half hour is a rush of Emily finishing drying my hair and pulling it back into a tight, high ponytail. Shauna quickly puts some makeup on my face. It is much lighter than yesterday, although my eyes are still a wonder to me…the thick eyelashes the makeup gives me, together with the colored lids and thin, highly arched eyebrows make my green eyes pop and just draw my gaze straight to them in the mirror… After a few tries, we find a pair of lacy girl’s jeans, with heavily adorned pockets, a blouse that will barely close over the large boobs I now have glued on (safely tucked away in a bra—which is a whole other story), and some three-inch pumps that match the color of the pumps.

Shauna looks at me and says, “That will have to do for now. We will worry about a purse and other things later. Come on, Joy, we needed to be over there ten minutes ago. The MS does not like to be kept waiting.” I give her a withering look and shrug. There is no need to even comment on that…but I do grimace and say, “You really expect me to walk in THESE? Let alone hurry?” Shauna gives me a withering look back and asks, “What is the matter? The almighty guy from the town from Hell can’t handle heels? Three-inch are starter heels…for real girls, that is…” Emily rolls her eyes and sighs. She grabs my left arm while Shauna grabs my right and they walk me out my door between them—literally keeping me on my wobbling feet, like I am once again drunk out of my mind…

Ten minutes later, I stumble into the Mother Superior’s office—Emily and Shauna waiting at the door behind me. She gives me a surprised look and dismisses the two girls—telling them to close the door behind them. She says with a slightly amused crinkle around her eyes, “I don’t mind you being barefoot—IF you did not choose those shoes…” I give her a thankful look and sigh in appreciation as I kick off the shoes. I say, “Remind me to forget that…’experience’… I can’t believe that I did not break my ankle on the way over here.” I laugh a little at myself and then say, “I don’t suppose you have to worry about heels?” She shakes her head no and says, “Well, not anymore; but I was not always a nun… So, you must be wondering why I asked you to come—and don’t worry, I understand that it is not your fault that you are late. It would have been a miracle if you had made it at the time I asked Shauna to have you here…”

She gets up and pours two hot cups of tea. She gestures towards the cream and sugar and takes a sip of hers; black. I cautiously follow suit and quietly wait as she gives me a critical appraisal. Finally, she asks, “So, how do you feel?” I almost drop my cup—I had expected most anything, but not that question. I take a sip of tea to cover for the awkward silence while I contemplate my answer. Finally, I decide to be truthful. What have I got to lose? I put down my cup and say, “Well. I don’t know how to answer that question, honestly. I hurt. I was pierced, tattooed….and otherwise humiliated by this whole thing. Those girls have chosen to make me look like some sort of bimbo…I don’t know why. It can’t be because of who I said were important women…they are definitely not bimbos. Well, at least not that I know of…” I can’t help but grin a little at myself. The Mother Superior smiles and says, “And yet, that is the second time since you got here this morning that you have made a little fun of yourself. I like that… But…please…go on…” I shake my head and say, “I don’t get it. I really don’t. I mean, this stuff is permanent… Wait until my Dad finds out…”

The Mother Superior sits quietly for a few minutes to see if I add anything else, but there really isn’t anything else for me to say. She nods and says, “Well, I know some things that none of you do, but this is not the time for those to come out. Not yet, anyway. I will let you know that Shauna and her family hold the town you come from in contempt—better said, they hold any males from that town in contempt. It is up to her to tell you more, though—it is her personal business. The thing is that, because of that, she lost perspective over this project—and has hurt you. Shauna is a born leader and has easily convinced the others, with the exception of Emily, of blindly following her lead. I signed off on this project and so it is ultimately my fault that you were hurt in this manner. I can’t let you off the hook on the project—things happen for a reason—and there is a reason for this. But, I can make up for the hurt… Come over here and lay down…”

She leads me to a couch and has me lay down. She kneels down beside me, places her hands over my heart, and bows her head down until her forehead touches her folded hands. I am not sure what to make of all of this…but, all of a sudden, I feel a warm glow come over me…and, slowly, the pain…disappears. The headache…gone. The pain from the piercings…gone. The pain from the tattoos…gone.

She raises her head and slowly gets up. I notice she is shaking—like she is really weak… She smiles wanly at me and asks, “Do you feel better?” Wonderingly, I nod and say, “The pain is gone…” She sits, still unsteady, and says, “I…have some…gifts… You are healed…for now. I promise you this. The things that happened to you yesterday because of what the girls subjected you to will not be an issue when your ‘project’ comes to an end. Whatever you choose to do at that point will be entirely up to you… The piercings can be healed. And those tattoos, well, they are magnificent pieces of art, but the ink has some special properties that even the girls are not aware of. I know Zoey well and she is a genius in her art, not unlike you will be… I did not lightly recommend to your Mom to sign the consent forms she requires…”

She takes a shaky breath and looks really pale. Though she is visibly shaking, she looks at me unwaveringly—straight in the eye and says, “Go take a hot bubble bath and let your worries soak away before they drag you off to go shopping. I promise this will be a learning journey for all of you. I also promise that this journey will not harm you in any way—I will see to that. Now, go—I am afraid I am going to have to rest a bit…”

I give her a worried look and she shoes me towards the door with a dismissive motion of her hands. I grab my shoes and quietly slip out with them in my hand. Emily and Shauna are waiting outside and pull me outside. I hop around in my bare feet on the hot concrete sidewalk until Emily makes me sit down on a bench to tell them what happened.

I look at them both, wide-eyed, and simply say in a small, awed voice, “She healed me…”

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joey finds a protector—and it is not his Dad….

Shauna looks at me…extremely pale…and stutters, “Sh…sh…she…what? Th…th…that…is impossible…! She only does that when…” If possible, she pales even more—but then turns silent. I process that. I don’t know what it means, but I sense that I have an advantage, so I press it. I look at Shauna and say, “The Mother Superior advised me to go take a hot bubble bath and soak. I think you and I need to talk; I will leave it up to you whether you want Emily to join us in my bathroom, or not…”

Twenty minutes later, my tub is running full of steaming hot water—the bubbles are already mounding over the top. I stand in front of the steamy mirror and look at the tattoo of a colorful bird on my butt—stretching up to my lower back and down my thigh—and wonder just what the Mother Superior meant by it being ‘special ink’… I can’t help but trust her after she somehow healed my—physical—wounds. All of my piercings are completely healed, as are my tattoos… What do I do with this? I will admit, though, the artwork is exquisite—if it were on someone else…

I slowly climb into the steaming water and mounds of bubbles. My fake breasts float strangely in the water under the bubbles. Shauna meekly comes in and sits on the lowered toilet lid, next to the tub. Emily leans against the door frame. I lay there and soak in the heat. Who knew? This REALLY IS AWESOME! Even if it does smell like flowers… I lazily look over at Shauna and ask, “So, I understand that you hate the men from my hometown. How does that exactly play into what you put me through yesterday? And why exactly would you? What do you even know about my home?” I swish my hands through the hot, steamy water and marvel at my long fingernails—waiting for Shauna to respond…

Shauna is quiet for several minutes. Emily and I both just look at her and wait. Finally, Shauna opens up…slowly at first, “Well, it became personal to my family about sixteen years ago, when my Aunt was brainwashed and kidnapped by one of the evil men from your town. My grandmother mourns her daughter. My mother mourns her sister….and I mourn my cousin. It is all because of people like your father…and, ultimately, like…you… Men, like your father and others in your town, erode what women are about. Women, like those in your town, are prisoners that are only there to please the men… Your choices of women for class only support that!”

I almost hyperventilate in the hot water…then, finally, calm down. I look at Emily, who seems to be sending me moral support, and then at Shauna. I take a deep breath and say, “You are probably the biggest bigot I have ever met. You know NOTHING about my Dad. You know NOTHING about my town… How DARE YOU?” I almost jump out of the tub to strangle Shauna. Emily hurries over and holds me down—thanks to the slippery tub… Shauna is, if anything, even paler… She takes a deep breath and says in a small voice, “My Aunt was seduced by a…man…from…there…and got pregnant. She was then brainwashed into leaving home and going…there…and forced to stay. None of us have heard from her…or her child…since. Can you blame me…or my family…for hating that town or its men? The authorities have sided with the town, saying that my Aunt went voluntarily and local law is in the town’s favor. Somehow, this...evil…guy…convinced my Aunt to abandon her family and submit to the town’s medieval view of women as God’s given gift to men… Your men value women that submit to them; cater to them; do everything they want…including being a baby-factory for them. Can you blame me for hating…you… and your values…?”

I settle back into my hot water and don’t say a word… Finally, boiling mad, I splutter, “So, that is your justification for turning me into the bimbo…this caricature…?” I wait to see what she says… Emily, takes a sponge and starts washing down my back…soothing my raw nerves… Finally, Shauna responds in a haughty voice, “Look…you led us to every decision that we went with. Obviously, your…upbringing…has colored your view of women. I mean look at who you think is important.” I take a deep breath and let the flowery smell of the bubbles sink in before I counter, “No, I guess I don’t understand. Please clue this idiot in…”

Shauna is quiet a couple of minutes. She is obviously disturbed. Finally, she continues, “Look, you are obviously enamored by sexy women…look at your picks. I…we…were only trying to play to your wishes.” I don’t give in… I swish through the water with my hands and play with a mound of bubbles, focusing on my long nails. After a bit, I respond, “So, you are saying that Scarlet, Christina, and Emma are bimbos?” I leave it at that…and she uncomfortably responds, “No; YOU do.” I smile…not that I am amused, but because I have won, and ask sweetly, “What would make you say that?” She coughs and says, “Well, look at your responses to our questions about what you liked…they were all about boobs and figures and beauty. It was obvious what you were about…”

I am quiet for a while. Did I really come across that way? No—it HAD to be how she…they…WANTED to perceive me… I reach down and pull the stopper out the stopper--the water is getting cold. As it drains, I say, “Not that YOU care, but, Scarlet is important to me because she plays a really cool super hero that is poised and calm and gets the job done. She plays a woman that is vital in saving a zoo…and many more such roles. I like Christina because she has a voice that is unrivaled and I can appreciate it from an artistic point of view. She played a role where she was tenacious and won her star role because she stuck to guns. I just love the role that Emma played—I mean she was AWESOME as Hermione. Who could not love that role? Are they beautiful women? Yes. Does that matter? Well, of course any guy will appreciate that—but, I mean…THAT is not ONLY what I appreciate about them… YOUR biased questions only made it SEEM like that is what is important to me because of what you CHOSE to read from my answers…”

After that, Emily shoos Shauna out of the room and helps me get dried off. I put on the same clothes that I had on before—including the shoes. I laugh as I try to walk. Emily laughs with me and gives me a kiss—again, full tongue, and says, “That is for encouragement. You ARE going to be an AWESOME girl, and something as mundane as a few inches of heel is not going to stop you. You gave Shauna a lot to think about—but, don’t let it go to your head…you really are not completely innocent, you know… Whether your town is a factor, or not, you DO have some outdated perceptions about girls…” I try and press her on the subject, but she won’t say anymore before the full ‘Joy-Squad’ arrives and we start getting ready to go to the same small mall that I had my ‘experiences’ at the day before…

I almost balk before we leave, but remember my promise to my Mom to do my best. I am not worried, though. Dad will be home tomorrow… I am sure that I will be home very soon after that…and the Mother Superior will have to make good on her promise to remove all of this girly stuff from my body… I look at all the healed piercings in my ears and my nose and mentally picture the rest… I look so ridiculous. If I didn’t love Mom so much…

Less than an hour later, we are at the mall and I am trying on outfit after outfit in one of the higher-end clothing stores. Shauna has backed off a little from turning me into a complete bimbo, but I get the impression that she is still pushing to have me as close to that edge as she can get me. Everything that she picks out is designed to show of ‘cleavage’ or my midriff, displaying my belly button jewel and tattoos. None of the shoes she picks out are less than a three-inch heel. When I protest that she is just trying to embarrass me, she just points at her own and asks if I had ever seen her in anything less? To be honest, I hadn’t—but, I had never really paid that much attention, either… Of course, I have to also get several purses that go with the shoes. When it comes time to pay for all of the stuff, I wonder how that is supposed to work. Shauna pays for it all without blinking—it seems, when she told her Mom about the ‘project’, including where I am from, she was given pretty much a blank check to get the extra credit for class; I guess her parents are not poor. Not that any of the kids at St. Paul’s are that are not there on a scholarship; tuition is outrageous…

After we leave the clothing store, we go to the local earring store and the girls pick out several pairs of glittery, dangly things. They also get a bunch of big hoopy things, you know the ones that look more like bracelets than earrings. Speaking of bracelets, they get a bunch of those…and glittery rings, too. There are other things that I have no idea about, maybe hair things? While it is all costume stuff, the bill is still more than I can believe.

Finally, they take me to a makeup store and pick out all of the ‘essentials’ for me. Gwen promises to show me how to use it all and Georgette chimes in that she will give me lessons on how to do my hair properly… All I can think of is that this is all a waste of time and money, since Dad is going to get me out of here. I just have to hold out until tomorrow…

After we back to my room, Gwen quickly does my face up and Georgette styles my hair so that I can ‘model’ my new outfits. Emily does assure me that this is a normal rite for girls and something ‘we’ love to do… I am in my third outfit, a tight little forest green dress that shows off ample cleavage, when there is a knock on my door. Well, that is new—someone is actually knocking? I look around; the whole ‘squad’ is here… Emily opens the door and a girl that I have seen around campus before but don’t really know whispers something to her. Emily nods and closes the door after the girls disappears down the hall. She looks at me and says, “I guess we are going to have to postpone the rest of the show until later. The Mother Superior wants to see you again.” I give her a questioning look and she shrugs back, indicating that she has no idea. This has to be it! Dad must have gotten home early and is going to get me out of here!

Ten minutes later, I am in her office for the second time today. She looks more energetic than when I last left her, but…somehow…sad… She gives me an encouraging smile and says, “You look very pretty in that outfit, Joy. Maybe the dress is a little low-cut, but it is very pretty.” I smile wanly back—the last thing I want to hear is how ‘pretty’ I look… She takes my hands and tells me to sit down on her couch. She sits down right next to me and continues to hold my hands tightly. She looks at me and says, “I need you to stay strong. Your mother called a few minutes ago. She had to hang up, but will call back as soon as she can. I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news on her behalf. It seems your father’s plane has gone missing somewhere in the wilderness of British Columbia in Canada. Everyone is missing…”

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joey finds a surprising new family….

I feel the world going dark and the Mother Superior squeezing my hands to keep me from passing out. I blink and look into her eyes, not comprehending for a second. Then her words echo in my mind, ”They are all missing…” All I can say is, “I have to get home. I have to take care of Mom. I am the man of the house while Dad is gone—it is my responsibility…” Mother Superior looks at me and says, “It is OK to cry, Sweetie. Let it go…” I look at her in defiance and say, “No, it isn’t. Men don’t cry. I have to get home…”

Right then the phone rings and M.S. answers. She hands me the phone. I take it and hear Mom say in a tearful voice, “Baby? Are you there? I am so sorry that I could not tell you myself. I can’t stay on the phone long, though. We all have to be available in case they call us with news. Tomorrow, I am going to fly to BC to be closer to the search area. Your sister and brother are going to stay with your grandmother here in town while I am gone. I need you to stay there and be strong for us, Sweetie. Go to church tomorrow and pray—the Mother Superior will help you through this. I will keep you up to date through the Mother since your cell doesn’t have a signal there.”

I say in a choked voice, “No, Mom! I need to come home. It is my duty…I am a man. I have to…” Mom breaks in and says, “Hon, there is no argument in this. The airline will only pay for me to go. There is nothing that you can do here. I know that you are well taken care of there—I know that I don’t have to worry about you, too, with the Mother looking out for you. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is—you need to be an adult for me, right now. Just pray that they find him. Pray hard for us! I have to go, Hon…they may be trying to call…”

I say goodbye and the line clicks on the other end… I hang up the phone and collapse on the couch. The M.S. comes over and hugs me. She says, “I am sorry, Joy. I have my gift, which is to physically heal. I have no special gift to help with emotional pain. I can tell you that if you let it out with a good cry, it can help tremendously. I know that you think that is beneath you—that it is something that only a woman is allowed to do; that it is a sign of weakness for a man. No one has to know. Just let it out…” I steadfastly shake my head and fight back the tears that so desperately want to come out. I say, “She doesn’t want me to come home. She wants me to stay. I don’t understand…” M.S. hugs me again and says, “It isn’t that she doesn’t want you home, Sweetie. Right now, she has to focus on them finding your Dad. There is nothing that you can do—any more than she can. You are both forced into waiting; and honestly where you wait is mostly irrelevant. You do have a support group here. One that is, I am sure, very willing to help you through this—if you give them a fair chance and don’t shut them out.”

M.S. gets up and gets a vial of pills. She takes one out and hands it to me with a glass of water. She says, “Take this. It will help you better work through this. You will need to take one of these pills a day—don’t miss any, though. Like always, I promise that they won’t harm you. I had not planned on giving you these, but, under these circumstances, I think that it is best.” I hesitantly take the tiny pill from her and swallow it with some water. I take the vial from her—it has no markings on it to indicate what the pills are—and stick it in the purse that was still slung over my shoulder from the ‘fashion show’. After a few minutes, I say, “I don’t feel any different…” She smiles sadly and says, “It will take some time for them to start working. In the meantime, go tell your friends what is going on. I am sure they want to know—and will want to help.”

I slowly make my way back to my room. I fight the tears all the way; determined not to give into them. I am so distraught that I don’t even notice that I am not stumbling in the heels. I make it up the stairs and hesitate in front of my closed door—I hear the babbling and giggling of the girls through it and almost bolt down the hall. I take a deep breath and open the door. Emily rushes over and hugs me as she says, “You are back! What did…?” She trails off when sees my face and then quietly asks, “Joy…ey? What is wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost!” I fight the tears harder as Emily sits me down at my desk and the girls gather around me. I sit quietly for a few minutes and finally tell them what happened.

What happens next takes me completely off guard. These girls, the ones that have been trying their best, in my opinion, to humiliate me, Shauna front and center, all pile on me in a supportive group hug. While I am still fighting to keep my eyes dry, all of the girls around me have huge black trails of mascara running down their faces from the tears freely flowing down their faces. At first I am put off by this display of emotion; after all, a group of guys would never fall apart like this. But the longer it lasts, the more I realize the pain they are feeling—for me—is heartfelt; the more it sinks in, the less uncomfortable I become with the situation. A single tear escapes my eye and trails down my cheek as I gently extract myself from the group. I take a deep breath and decide to be honest with them. I say, “Girls, I appreciate your concern. To be honest, this is completely foreign to me—being in such an emotional…but very caring…environment. As a guy, I really want to run right now… I am supposed to be stoic and shoulder this like a man…and because, well I HURT. I know you think my Dad, like other men in my town, is some sort of monster—yet, here you are grieving with me at his disappearance.” I take a shaky breath and continue, “I guess I thought you would be…happy…about it…”

Shauna looks stricken and says, “Look, Joy…and I am not calling you that out of spite, right now… For better or worse, you are one of us. You are in pain. We are here to help. End of discussion. Now, what can we do?” I look at her and shrug. I quietly say, “I have no idea. I am even more helpless right now than when you started poking holes in me…at least I could have fought back at that. I am mad at mother for not letting me come home… Don’t get me wrong; I am beginning to understand that you are a surrogate family, of sorts, while I am here…and the M.S. is being really great—she gave me some sort of medicine that is supposed to help me process this… Oh, by the way, don’t let me forget to take it…one a day—she says it is important—what do I know…it is in a vial in that purse over there… Anyway, I just want to get away from here…even if it just for a day or two…have a home-cooked meal…and feel like I am at home… Is that too much? I don’t know…”

I don’t notice Shauna quietly step out into the hall as Emily and the other girls start removing my makeup and brushing out my hair. Before I know it, I am in a soft, warm nightgown and being put to bed. Emily is in the chair beside my bed and says, “We will take turns staying with you tonight. You let us know if you need anything. You will have to get up earlier than you are used to, to get ready in the morning. It takes a girl longer, you know—but you need to attend mass tomorrow…”

I don’t sleep well, but, true to their word, I am not alone one minute all night long. I startle however when Shauna quietly shakes me and says, “Joy, it is time to get up. We are going to help you get ready for mass…and when that is over…you are going to come home with me to my house. Mom is expecting us for lunch…the Mother Superior has excused us from class for the next couple of days while you stay with my family.” I look at her, shocked…I can’t believe she is doing this for me…maybe it IS just because she feels guilty, but it is sweet, none-the-less… I give her an awkward hug and go to take a hot shower. A few minutes later, I come out and Shauna giggles as she shows me how to properly wrap my body in a towel to cover my breasts…and how to wrap my hair in a towel like a turban. She then sits me down at my vanity and says, “I am going to do your makeup much heavier than would be normal for this time of day—or for church. But…you look like a zombie, right now, with those bags under your eyes…” She gets busy right as Georgette comes in and starts working on my hair. Both Shauna and Georgette look perfect…there is no telling how early THEY got up to get ready, so that they could get ME ready… Of course, if they just let me be Joey then none of this would be necessary—and I would be missing out on this…wonderful care… Oh…this is so confusing… Dad, please come home…my world is upside down right now…you can fix it…you can make things like they…are supposed to be…?

A little less than an hour later, I am standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. I am in the second most conservative outfit that the girls picked out for me yesterday. Shauna had vetoed my most conservative one, because it is black and she insists that we are not going to a funeral service… The dress that I am in is electric blue, comes to just above my knees in a swooped hem line. It has a scoop neck that is too low for church, so Gwen has loaned me a ‘camisole’ that hides my ‘breasts’ in a complementary manner. The blue sets off the color of my dyed strawberry blond hair beautifully. The makeup, while heavy, is not garish. I can’t believe it. I look like a really pretty girl…one that I would not recognize as me in a million years… And…somehow…I am not freaked out about it…

Emily clears her throat and says, “Joy, you look beautiful…and no one is going to know…about, well…they just won’t… We need to go. Mass starts in fifteen minutes…” I sit through mass, surrounded by the ‘squad’ and am grateful when Father Brown says a special prayer for “Joy’s” Dad…and our family… After a tight hug from M.S. and another emotional group hug from the squad, I get into Shauna’s car and we take off on the two-hour drive to her family home—in directly the opposite direction of my own… I had thought about trying to convince Shauna to just take me to MY home, but knew that she would be unwilling to go to my hometown…and that Mom would be furious if I did, as well.

On the drive, Shauna tells me about her family. She is an only child, something I think I envy her for in a way… I laugh as I tell her that siblings are a mixed bag of blessings and curses. I already know some of the other stuff…about her Aunt… As she talks about her family in such a doting manner, I realize that family is very important to her…and the rest of her family…and my former…hate…no extreme dislike…for her melts another several degrees… Then, I start to tell her about my family…how my Dad’s main focus is to provide for us…to treat my Mom like a queen while she takes care of us kids and our home. I let her know that Mom has never given ANY indication that she regrets having gotten pregnant with me and moving to our town. Then, in a moment of weakness, I tell her, “You may not believe this, Shauna, but I don’t always agree with every value and moral in our town. My Dad loves my Mom and every one of us kids; of that, I have no doubt. My Mom loves us, too—and I do not in a moment believe that she really regrets any of her family choices, but I can’t believe that there are not better ways… That being said, is having a real family all that bad? You know, one where there is a real parent at home… There are sacrifices, sure…but, coming home from school to a parent…not an empty house while both parents are working…is…somehow special…” Shauna glances over at me as she pulls into the driveway of our destination and says, “I could not agree more…and do you know that my DAD decided to stay home while I was a kid in school while MOM pursued her career…? I am only saying…there are options…if everyone is open to them…” I smile and say, “Well, I will give you that my hometown is not generally open to new ‘options’—the OLD way is ALWAYS the best one… And, yes, old-fashioned values ARE the old ways… Change is not well accepted…”

We get out of the car, my heart pounding. I know they KNOW I am ‘the project’, but I still feel like a freak… Shauna’s Mom, Jen, hugs me as we enter the front door and makes me feel so welcome that I forget all about being nervous, though… Her Dad, Jeff, is no less welcoming… We have no more than gotten into the living room, a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, when my cell phone rings…it startles me, since I am used to it not working at the college… I turn red and struggle to find it in the purse that Shauna gave me to hold all of my ‘essential’ stuff… Amidst profuse apologies, I finally find it and see the call is from Mom. I step back into the hallway and answer it…

The first thing that Mom tells me is that there is still no news on Dad’s plane…then she tells me that M.S. had told her that I had come home with Shauna. She says, “I am so glad that you have found friends to help you through these trying times, Hon. Believe me, you will eventually realize what a blessing that is… Now, tell me a bit about Shauna and her family…I need to thank them for taking care of my baby…” I groan and tell her that I can take care of myself and that I really have not met them to speak of, yet. She presses me for what I know and I say, “OK, OK…Shauna is at college with me…her Mom, Jen, seems really nice. Her Dad, Jeff, also seems nice, but…” I hear Mom gasp loudly as she breaks in to my explanation and ask, “Wh…wha…what is their last name, Dear? And where do they live? Tell me…quickly…” I roll my eyes at her impatience and say, “McMillan and Hope, why?” There is dead silence on the other end. I look to make sure I have not lost the connection…it is still very active…five full bars…when I hear, “Jo…y, please put me on with…Shauna’s Mom…” I say, “OK…GEE…just give me a sec…”

I go into the living room and timidly go over to Mrs. McMillan. I say, “I am really sorry to interrupt, but my Mom would like to speak to you…” I hand her the phone… She says, “Yes, this is Jen…and you are Joy’s Mom?” I hear very clearly what my Mom says, “Jenny? Hello, Sis…it has been a long time…”

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joey finds out more about the family he didn’t know existed….

Mrs. McMillan sinks into her couch...with an audible gasp simultaneous to my own… I once again feel faint. I sway a bit and Shauna, who had not heard what was said, grabs me. She gives me and her Mom a questioning look. Mrs. McMillan is deathly pale as she speaks into my phone, “Lily? Is that really you? You mean that…Joy…Joey…is my…nephew…niece…whatever? O…M…G…” She drops the phone and I pick it up in the middle of the uproar… I am barely able to speak and say, “Mom? What is going on? Are you saying that I am in your sister’s house…that Shauna is my…cousin?” It is quiet for a minute, then Mom says, “Yes…it is true…I don’t know how…or why, but God has seen fit to bring our families back together… Please let your Aunt know that I am SO sorry for…not being in touch…and we will work it all out…later…but I have to go… I am so sorry, Jo…oy…, I have to go…the plane is boarding. I love you!” The phone goes dead…

I sink down next to…my…Aunt. I feel drained—likely as pale as she is. I say, “I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say… Shauna, maybe it is best if you take me to the bus station—I am sure that I can get a bus back to the college…or something…” Shauna looks at me, confused, and her dad…my…uncle…says, “Nonsense! I know that we can’t fully celebrate, because your father is missing…BUT, there is NO way we are going to turn you away…not after we finally have you here! Jen. Jen, SNAP OUT OF IT! This is your…well, your sister’s child! The one you have been longing to meet…for sixteen years…don’t you have anything to say?”

To say that all Hell breaks loose at that point would be an understatement. Shauna comes over and hugs me tightly. She has a wondered look in her eyes as she says, “Cousins…?” Mrs. McMillan comes over and nearly smothers me with a hug like I have never experienced. When she finally lets me come up for air, I see that tears are streaming down her cheeks. She says, “So…I don’t know what to say. We have been wanting to meet you for so long…and here you are. I wish I could say it was under better circumstances…but I am SO glad to finally get to meet you. Come…let’s eat some lunch and…talk…”

I am ushered into the dining room and we are sitting around the table several minutes later. We have not even dished out the food, all of us still a bit in shock, when another, older lady rushes into the room. She gives me a haunted look and asks, “Is it true? Are you really my granddaughter?” Aunt Jen, as she is now insisting I call her, speaks up and says, “Come in, Mom; this is indeed your grandchild—we are still working on how to deal with the ‘daughter’ part…” The older lady, the grandmother I never even knew I had, comes over and hugs me. She says, “I never thought this day would happen—so much was said…so many bitter things… But, you are here…you are here…” She sits down, with the same shocked look as the rest of us, and then…my stomach growls very loudly. That relieves the tension and everyone laughs. Uncle Jeff starts passing the food around and it tastes wonderful. We are however all still somewhat subdued in our conversation while we eat—there are so many elephants in the room that it is hard to count them all…

Aunt Jen insists that we just leave the dishes piled up in the sink and go back to the living room to deal with all of those elephants… I start by telling how I wound up at St. Paul’s to begin with—at Mom’s insistence while Dad was away. Shauna picks up with why I am sitting here dressed as a girl—misunderstandings and all. Finally, I broach the subject of my Dad. There is an awkward silence, then my ‘new’ Grandma asks, “Sweetie, I am sorry about your father. I sincerely hope, for your sake, that he is found safe and sound. I can’t say that I have many good things to say about the whole incidents that led to your mother leaving us, but I still love your mother very much—and you, too, even though I have never been able to meet you. So, tell me, how has your mother been? Has she been happy…there…?”

I can’t help but think about how unfair that question is, but if the events of the last few days have taught me anything, it is to keep an open mind long enough to something…and someone…a chance. So I choke down my rising bile and take a deep breath before I respond. In as even a tone as I can manage, I say, “As far as I know, my mother has led a happy life in our town. I know that you all have your notions about my hometown, some of which are likely true; but things are also just as likely not as black and white as you assume. I don’t know the story behind Mom leaving you—other than a very short version that I got from Shauna when we had no idea that we were talking about our same family. What I can say is that my Dad has always treated my Mom like a queen, as far as I can tell. Mom has always looked out for my sister, my brother, and I—and has never once complained about anything. I have never gotten the impression that she is bitter about her choices—even when she told me that she wanted me to go to college—to have the chance that she gave up to have me—it was not bitter; just a wish for me to have the opportunity—something that I would not have had otherwise. My Dad is not big on education—he has done very well working his way up through the ranks with just a high school diploma. It is not that he has anything against education—he just doesn’t see the need; as is with most of the people in my town. As you know, it is very blue collar…” I am shaking a bit by then, my nerves getting to me…

Aunt Jen looks at me and says, “Mom, I think that is enough of that for now. Lily has said she will be in touch—those are questions you should be asking HER, not poor Jo…oy… But, did I hear you say you have a brother and a sister?” I smile, thankful for the change of subject and tell them about Amy and Josh. Finally, though, we get to the last elephant of the day… Uncle Jeff looks at me and says, “OK, now it is my turn. I know we are not blood relatives, but in this family—family is family. I can’t stand to see you forced into that outfit…and role…against your wishes. My family has given a LOT of money to St. Paul’s over the years and I think that I can get this straightened out. If you want, I can loan you some clothes and you can get out of that dress.” I give him a grateful look and say, “That means a lot to me, Uncle Jeff. Having your support means more than you know. But, I got myself into this mess and…I think I am meant to get myself out. Two days ago, I would have jumped at your offer. However, assuming I stay at St. Paul’s through this, if Mrs. Braun does not stand up to her part of the bargain…then I may let you ‘talk’ to them.” Shauna looks at me and says, “So, that means that you want to stay on as Joy for the term?” I…slowly…nod and say, “I am SURE I will regret it by the time it is over even more than I do now, but I trust that you and the squad will treat me fairly from now on…and I will honestly attempt to learn the lessons that M.S. seems to think I can get from this.”

Shauna comes over and gives me a hug. She whispers in my ear, “Promise!” After that, Aunt Jen sends her on some mysterious errand and tells me to follow her upstairs. She shows me the guest room, where I will be staying, and asks me to undress. I blush and ask, “Don’t get me wrong, but…” Aunt Jen just laughs and says, “Joy, get used to it; it is just us girls. I just want you to strip down to your panties and bra. It is OK—I want to see what the girls have done…” She helps me unzip the dress and I let it fall to the floor. I slip off the shoes and pull down the pantyhose. I stand there, somewhat embarrassed, in only a bra and panties. Aunt Jen pales when she sees the tattoos and my belly button and says, “OK, Shauna and I are going to have a SERIOUS talk. She had no right…” I shake my head and say, “You are right, Aunt Jen, but Shauna and I have come to an understanding—it is OK. The Mother Superior has promised that the tattoos won’t be an issue when this is over with—and she healed them all, along with the piercings… The only thing that really bothers me is the one piercing that you can’t see…but…well…I can’t argue its purpose for now, I guess.” Aunt Jen doesn’t seem really surprised that M.S. had healed me, but is livid when she finds out why I will be sitting down to pee for the foreseeable future…and makes me show her. I say, “At least it makes it easier for me to be…flat…down there…the way it all sort of curves now…”

Shauna comes in a few minutes later and is somewhat surprised to see me standing there, basically naked, in front of her very irate mother. After giving Shauna a tongue-lashing and promising to continue the discussion later, Aunt Jen takes a shopping bag from Shauna and asks me to take off my bra. By now, I am beyond worrying and struggle to undo it. I finally get it undone and drop it on the bed. Aunt Jen has me lay down and uses a solvent from the bag to remove the large breast forms. I sit up and feel strangely light without them. I look a little confused and Aunt Jen says, “We are going to set a few things right…you are going to be a respectable niece. I still can’t believe…” She pulls a different bra from the bag and explains that is a ‘padded, push-up bra’ that is ‘more appropriate for a girl my age’. She helps me put it on and then stuffs in some smaller silicone forms to help fill it out. When she is done, I look much more like a normal girl—with a B-cup…and much less like a junior porn star. I put my dress back on and Shauna tells me to leave off the hose as she hands me some fuzzy slippers to wear around the house.

We go back downstairs and I help clean up the kitchen…well, sort off, since I really don’t know where anything goes—let alone how to do what I was raised to think of as “girl’s chores”… I find that there is an easy routine between Aunt Jen, Shauna, and…Grandma… as they quickly finish up the work and leave the kitchen sparkling clean. Aunt Jen then says, “Shauna, why don’t you take Joy upstairs and get ready to go to the mall with your Grandma and me. I think we have some further work to do before I can relax about what you girls have done to Joy…” Shauna rolls her eyes and takes me up to freshen my makeup and put my hose and shoes back on…

After several hours of shopping, my wardrobe is more complete and greatly toned down. I even have some girly jeans and leggings, along with several tops…and flat shoes. Aunt Jen says, as I sigh when I try them on, “Just so you know, I agree with Shauna that heels should be your staple shoes…but, there are times when flats are fine…” I also receive several more pairs of earrings to tone down my look; the biggest difference being that they are all smaller and less…showy. The hoop in my nose is also replaced with a tiny diamond stud, which suits me just fine. All in all, when it is said and done, I look much more like a typical teenage girl—which is sort of scary to me that that is even possible.

I am in ‘my’ room sorting through my new things with Shauna when my cell rings again. Shauna grimaces at me as I dig through…my…purse to find it and says, “First thing when you hang up, we are changing that ring tone…something sexy…like ‘Fireball’, or something… I roll my eyes and answer it, “Hi Mom, are you there? Have you heard anything?” I hear her sigh and say, “Yes, I am in BC. There is still no news and the search has been called off for the night. It was such a small plane and is such a large area to search… So…how are you getting on there? I am sorry you got thrown into the middle of…my bad history… I really do love them all there and we will work it all out… I have been thinking about it all day along with worrying about your Dad.”

We talk a little longer and I hang up. Shauna looks at me and asks, “You OK?” I nod and she swipes my phone. She laughs and says, “So, now for that ringtone…and don’t forget to take your pill…”

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joy settles in for a while….

The next couple of days go by quickly. I learn more about the extended family I never knew I had. Mom had never really talked about her side of the family. On the few occasions that I had asked, she had become evasive and somehow always changed the subject. Dad was no better source. Finally, I just gave up asking. What I now find out is that Aunt Jen had chosen not to work and stayed home with Shauna when she was a child. She does work now that Shauna is in College, though. Uncle Jeff is an executive at a local company; but is able to spend a lot of time with his family—not like a lot of execs that are never home; and unlike my own Dad who is out traveling most of the time.

After a few days, though, it is time for us to go back to St. Paul’s. Mom is still in BC and there has been no luck finding the plane—the weather, which caused the problems to begin with, remains unhelpful. I have settled into a routine, of sorts, as Joy. Shauna has been giving me makeup lessons that I find to not be as difficult as I thought. As a matter of fact, I have started sketching, something I saw Grandma doing and decided to try at her urging. It turns out that I am a natural and have an artsy side that I never knew about. Somehow that translates into my being able to easily ‘paint’ my face.

On the drive back, Shauna and I just talk about this and that and are back on campus before we know it. It takes us two trips each up the stairs to get all of my new clothes into my room and several minutes to get them all put away in the closet, as well as to get my makeup organized and spread out on my vanity.

Shauna is just about to go to her room, when there is a knock on the door and Emily pops in. She gives me a big hug and fauns all over my new look. Then she says, “M.S. would like to see you as soon as you are finished settling in. She says it is no hurry, to take your time.” So, I spend the next few minutes catching her up on the events of the past few days. Of course she is surprised to find out that Shauna and I are really cousins—and is overjoyed that I have decided to not fight the ‘project’ anymore, but to really give ‘Joy’ a chance.

I check my makeup in the mirror before I leave my room; Shauna has been relentless about me making sure it stays pristine—as was Aunt Jen. Ten minutes later, I am standing in front of the Mother Superior’s door. What a difference a few days makes; although I am in three and a half-inch heels, I easily walked over in them—thanks to a relentless Shauna (and Aunt Jen) that has made me practice, practice, practice… The distraction was welcome, though. I knock and enter at the Mother Superior’s invitation to come in. She gets up and gives me a tight hug and I feel a warmth come over me before she says, “You look wonderful, Joy—much more appropriate. Is there any news?” I shake my head and say, “Not on my father—they are still searching, but hope is growing dim.” I feel my eyes tearing up; I fight it, but it is a losing battle and the tears start flowing—I just can’t stop them. M.S. hugs me again and says, “Those pills I gave you are starting to work. I am going to be honest with you about them; I didn’t tell you before because you were not in the right place mentally… They are female hormones…not strong ones, but strong enough to let you know what it feels like to be a girl…and let your emotions come out. I urge you to keep taking them to complete your experience—I promise they are safe.”

After a few minutes, I am able to get my tears under control and say, “Well, I do wish you had told me about the pills, but I also do trust you. I don’t really like not being able to control my emotions like just now, but I will admit that it feels good to let it out.” I start to tear up again, but am able to better get it under control now that I understand what is happening to me. I sniffle a little and M.S. hands me another tissue; I already know I am going to have to do some significant work to clean up the black streaks that I know are running down my face… I dry my nose and say, “I do have some other news, though…” I tell M.S. about Shauna being my cousin and some of the background. She says, “It is wonderful that your family is coming together for you in this time of need. I will keep you all in my prayers!”

We talk a few more minutes and then I go into her bathroom to clean up the best I can before going back to my room. I sit down at my vanity and redo my makeup, since it will be time to go down for dinner in a few minutes. I am just finishing it up when Emily comes in and asks if I am ready…

Like Emily, the rest of the squad is pleased with my new look and glad that I am ready to make a true effort at accepting the challenge. I think Mrs. Braun is most surprised when she sees me the next day in class. She seems somewhat suspicious that I am not fully cooperating until Shauna and Emily firmly convince her that all is going well. And so, the next several days pass in a whirl. Classes are OK—they are definitely more challenging than in high school, especially the math classes. I find that while I am good at math, it is really not where I fully excel. While I never really thought anything about the arts—or art--THAT is what I am finding I love…

At least the classes are distracting me from the never-ending lack of news on my Dad—as are the extra-curricular lessons the squad gives me on being Joy. I am becoming quite adept at makeup, hair, and even walking in heels. But there is still a lot for me to learn—things like sitting, posture, hand movements, vocabulary…it is never-ending. They have me practice standing up and sitting down properly, getting in and out of cars ‘like a lady’, holding my hands and arms correctly when I walk…

One thing that was awkward, at first, but I am slowly getting more into, is they have me reading these ooey-gooey romance novels and discussing how I feel about them—or what I think the female characters are thinking. We also all watch a ‘chick-flick’ every evening; the girls make me watch how the female characters act and interact and again there is a discussion about ‘feelings’. The more I read and watch, the more I get in tune with the female feelings…and the more I cry at the emotional points in the plots.

As a matter of fact, I have become more and more emotional; but after the first few days I have become able to get it better back under control. Don’t misunderstand me—I am still much more emotional than I was before…but, I am better able to control it. At least as well as any other girl.

And so, my first three weeks at college come to an end. Of those, I have spent two and a half as a girl and my Dad has now been missing for two. I am glum about my Dad. Mom calls me, through M.S., and gives me daily updates—which are basically always, “No news…” It is time for me to go to her office for my daily update and I check my makeup in the mirror, a totally unconscious habit now, and quickly walk over. The click-clacking of my heels on the concrete sidewalk is a now familiar sound and I barely notice it as I hurry over, unconsciously placing one foot in front of the other in a typical ‘model’ walk. I knock on M.S.’s door and wait for the invitation to come. The phone rings just as I enter.

I hear Mom crying on the other end. She finally calms down enough to say, “They have called off the search…there is no sign of the plane. The weather must have gotten them completely off course, they were too low for the radar, and there was nothing anywhere near the vicinity of their last transmission. I don’t know what we are going to do…” There is quiet weeping on both sides for a bit, then Mom says, “I am coming home day after tomorrow. I will come to see you when I get back and we will figure where to go from here…” Mom hangs up because neither of us are in the best shape to talk. M.S. just hugs me for a long time—and I unashamedly cry my heart out.

I am just about to leave M.S.'s office when the phone rings again. I start towards the door as she answers and stop cold as she says, “Joy. It is for you—it is your mother.” My heart falls into my stomach as I take the receiver and listen to my Mom’s voice say, “Joy. They just called; the passengers from the plane just walked into a town here in BC—they are alright! Your Dad is alive!” At that point, I really do start to cry; this time in utter joy…

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joy finds out how Dad will react to the news….

At the news that my Dad has survived, M.S. calls all of my friends to the chapel and we all say a prayer in thanks of his safe return. Of course, everyone is overjoyed at the news and there is an impromptu party afterwards that lasts well into the night.

Mom had promised that she would ‘call with more news tomorrow’, and if possible let me talk to Dad. As that time gets closer, I start to get really nervous about how Dad will react to the news of me becoming Joy for the term. There is no doubt that he will not be happy about it—on top of me being in college… But, I like college—and Joy is part of that package, for now—so, he is just going to have to deal with it…

I sigh, still unsure what to do, and decide to get ready and go over to M.S.’s office a few minutes early to get her advice. I go to my closet and just stare at the clothes, tryinig to decide what to wear. I had basically been wearing dresses since my last shopping trip with Aunt Jen and decide to just wear a pair of jeans and top today. I grab a pair that has bejeweled back pockets and pink lacy embellishments and giggle at the thought of even considering wearing them. Did I just GIGGLE? I giggle again at the thought. I find a pink, scoop-necked top that will go well with the jeans and a pair of matching pink socks. I take off my fuzzy robe and pull on the top and pick up the jeans. I remember that when I bought them they were comfortable, since the fabric was so soft and stretchy, but had seemed a little wide in the hips; not now. When I try to pull them up, I have to struggle to get them up my thighs and over my hips. I am perplexed. I can’t have gained that much weight… What is even stranger is that, once I have them up, they button and zip just fine—the waist is perfect. I look at myself in the mirror and see that I am filling the jeans out like they are intended to be. My hips and thighs seem to have widened—and my rear is clearly ‘bubbled out’ in the stretchy denim. I am getting a girl’s figure! This probably explains why my bra is getting tight…and the itching and soreness in my breasts…

“I told you it was safe, Joy—not that nothing would happen”, explains M.S. She sighs and says, “The dosage is low; low enough that we did not expect body changes this quickly, but with your family history—late-onset puberty from your Dad’s side that makes up for itself with a vengeance when it does set in, but early-onset from your Mom’s; it seems your body was just waiting for any hormones to react to. But, don’t worry, Dear. This too can be healed. Trust me, I will ensure your body is the way you want it after this project is over.”

I start to complain, but at that moment the phone rings. M.S. answers and hands me the phone. I hear Mom say, “Joy? Your Dad would like to say hello!” I hear some rustling and my Dad’s voice say, “Joey? Son, I didn’t think I would ever see you again—I didn’t think I would ever see any of you…” His voice trails off and I say, “It is so good to hear voice, Daddy. We were all praying for you and I am so happy you are safe…” I hear shock in his voice as he says, “So, it really is true…you really do sound like a girl… I don’t understand all of this. We will talk about it more when your mother and I come there; we will come as soon as we can. I have to go for now…the doctor is calling for me.”

I slowly hang up the receiver and sigh. M.S. looks at me with an inquisitive look. I sigh again and say, “Dad seems to be fine…I just don’t know how he is reacting to…well, Joy… He said they will be here soon… I am looking forward to seeing them…both. I thought I would never see my Dad again, but…now I am afraid he will take me away from here… I have come to like college…and…I want to finish…”

The next several days are a mix of joy and trepidation. Mom and Dad are now coming in three days and I still don’t know what will happen. I have not been able to talk to either of them much, but they are now finally back home and Dad has been pronounced fine. The company gave him a couple of weeks off to recuperate and he sounds strong enough—but, somehow…different.

I stand in front of the steamy mirror. I am gently patting myself dry from my shower—my skin has grown soft and sensitive. I am extra gentle around my breasts. They are really sore and have grown into small mounds. My nipples are even sorer and are swollen—about the size of small pencil erasers. I finish drying off and put on my panties and my bra. I no longer need the silicone inserts with the bras I have; they are nearly too small even without them. I slip into a cool sundress and some matching heels. I quickly do my makeup and style my hair. I put on my jewelry and check myself in the mirror: Nothing but a cute girl stares back at me. I shrug and sigh…then start downstairs—Mom and Dad are supposed to be here any minute.

Their SUV pulls up the main drive—Dad driving, as usual. I watch as he parks and they get out. Dad opens the door for Mom, as always, and they walk up to the main building, holding hands. I am standing at the bottom of the steps to the main entrance. Neither one of them recognize me. I go over and give Dad a hug…a handshake does not seem appropriate in this dress and four-inch heels. He nearly chokes when he figures out it is me. While he is spluttering, I hug Mom and say, “I am SO glad to see you, Dad! The Mother Superior would like for us all to come to her office, if that is OK with you.” Dad looks at me again and says, “Well, you seem to have adapted to this role very well, Jo…y. Are you OK? I mean this looks somehow really…permanent…” I smile and give him a kiss on the cheek and say, “For this term, it is permanent…but M.S. says that she can make me normal when this is all over. I never thought I would say this, but it is worth it to be here. College is amazing…I am not bored in class anymore. And now that you have been found, I can fully concentrate on my studies!”

After our meeting with M.S., where to my surprise Dad is all for me staying in college and doesn’t make a fuss at all about my ‘project’, we go over to my room so that they can see it. True to form, soon after we get there, the door just pops open and Emily comes in. I introduce her and just as I get done, the door opens again and a pale Shauna comes in. She looks at my parents and I am not sure what she will say. She takes a deep breath and asks somewhat timidly, “So, you are my Aunt Lily? May I give you a hug?” Mom sobs and pulls her into a big hug. Shauna then looks at my Dad and I am afraid that she will say something bad, but she just says, “That makes you my Uncle Rob, then. I am so glad that you are OK…for Joy’s sake.” To my surprise, she goes over and gives him a hug, too. Then she says, “My parents would like all of us to come home to their house. I know it will be hard, but Joy and I don’t have any more classes this week and we have the weekend free…?” She leaves it open-ended. I did not know she was going to ask, but I am as anxious as she is to hear their answer.

After quickly packing our bags, Shauna and I put them into the back of the SUV and climb into the back seat. To both of our surprises, my parents were actually OK with the idea. Don’t get me wrong, they are both really nervous about the prospect of coming together with our family again after all of these years…and the bad blood that has boiled since then. They both took one look at me…and Shauna; how we are getting along so well, like sisters really, and could not say no. So, we are on our way. As soon as there is cell phone reception, Shauna calls Aunt Jen and lets her know we will be there for supper.

On the two-hour drive over, Dad tells us the story of how their small plane had to make an emergency landing after being forced to fly low because of the weather; lightning had struck one of the engines. It had forced them way off course and they eventually ran out of fuel and had to crash land. The pilot had found a clearing large enough to set down, but not large enough to come to a complete stop, so the plane had pushed into the forest and did not leave a typical crash trail that could be seen from the air in the bad weather—it was perfectly camouflaged, however unintentional. The all-female crew and the six passengers, four women and two men (including my Dad) had finally decided to hike out after waiting two days. The radio was dead, the weather was terrible, and food was running low. It took them ten days, but they finally got back to civilization—a small town about seventy miles from where they had crashed. My Dad tells us that if it had not been for the women on the crew, who had taken charge in spite of the men, and their quick thinking on some things that none of them would be alive today. He looks at me in the rear-view mirror and says, “It has changed my outlook on a lot of things. If going to college makes you happy, then that is what you need to do. If you have to pretend to be a girl to do that, and you are OK with that, then I am the last person to stop you. It will take me a while to get used to two daughters, though.” Shauna and I giggle, and I say, “And about the time you get used to it, the project will be over…”

Dad pulls into the drive and Shauna hops out to run inside and greet her parents. I know she did it to give us some time to mentally prepare for this. I put my hands on each of my parents’ shoulders from behind and say, “It will be OK. If I can do this,” looking at myself, “then you can get through this—I have faith in you.” Mom reaches up and pats my hand before she dries some tears from her eyes…and we get out.

I stand back with Shauna, holding my breath, as my Mom and Dad go up to Aunt Jen and Uncle Jeff. There is no screaming; no shouting; no blaming… Mom hugs Aunt Jen…and Dad shakes Uncle Jeff’s hand. My heart starts pounding when my grandparents come down the stairs; I have no idea whether they will make a scene. Grandma just cries and they both hug a weeping Mom.

Having gone through this a few weeks before, with my arrival, the ice is broken more quickly; but there is still a lot of emotional baggage to work through. Slowly, ever so slowly, we start catching up as a family.

Joey learns some unexpected life-lessons and finds out some unexpected things about himself along the way. In this part, Joy has a decision to make….

After a long supper and discussion afterwards, my parents go home with my grandparents to spend the night. I will stay in the same guest room that I had stayed in before at Uncle Jeff and Aunt Jen’s house. The next morning, we all meet at Grandma’s for breakfast. Mom and Dad have to leave soon after that, since they need to get home to pick up my sister and brother from my other grandparent’s house. While it is clear that it will take some time for everything to completely smooth out, forgiveness was given on all sides—and promises have been made to come together as the family we are supposed to be.

I wave as the SUV takes off and Grandma hugs me. She smiles at me as she breaks the hug and says, “Either your Dad has changed a lot, or I sorely misjudged him. He really does love your mother.” I look at her and say, “It is likely a lot of both. He has changed since this incident…but, he has ALWAYS loved my Mom; at least as long as I can remember…”

Grandma, Aunt Jen, Shauna and I head to the mall soon after that—Uncle Jeff and Grandpa stay home ‘to relax’. The weather has warmed up considerably over the last couple of weeks and the pool at Shauna’s house is open and warmed up. Since, in all my shopping, I never got any sort of swimwear, Aunt Jen insists that we go find something of my own, rather than me borrow something from Shauna. Of course, with women, shopping for something as simple as a swimsuit is a near all-day thing, which is why I am sure that Uncle Jeff and Grandpa decided to stay home. I wind up with a couple of bikini’s that complement my skin tone and hair color—and a few other purchases that Aunt Jen and Grandma insist on getting me, including some new bras that fit me better with my growing breasts. We get home in the early afternoon after stopping to eat lunch at Shauna’s favorite restaurant.

Shauna makes sure that I am liberally coated with a high-SPF sun block and we go swimming. I am still amazed at the fact that I am ‘naturally’ big enough to fill in the top of the bikini—when they had measured me for the new bras, I found out that I am now a full B-cup and likely to still get larger. Shauna and I just enjoy a lazy afternoon, swimming and laying out by the pool reading girly books and magazines. I don’t even notice this seems normal to me—Uncle Jeff and Aunt Jen are very aware of the change in me just over the past couple of weeks…

Uncle Jeff and Aunt Jen drop us off at St. Paul’s the next day and go to speak with M.S. while they are there. Shauna and I go to our rooms and settle back in for class the next day…

And so, the term quickly passes. My body continues to develop; I end up with envious curves and a beautiful face and body—real model material, actually. My mind wraps itself around being a young woman and I now have a full understanding of what that is; with the exception of certain female monthly ‘visits’ and corresponding organs, I feel every bit like a young woman. It is hard for me to even remember being Joey. When Mom and Dad had brought my sister and brother for their first visit, Amy pretended to be shocked at my outgoing appearance and nature, which is frowned upon for women in my hometown, but I could tell she was really jealous—something Mom and I later discussed in private. The truth of the matter is that my “Joy-Squad” has turned me into a confident young lady—one that M.S. is very proud of; and one that passes Mrs. Braun’s test with flying colors as she takes me to a very expensive and very formal dinner to test my poise and female character. I pass her class; and the girls in the squad all get A’s.

And so I find myself in M.S.’s office. She holds my hands in hers, facing me, and says, “You have turned into a beautiful young woman, Joy. Now it is time for you to decide what your next step is. I guess that you are ready to go back to being Joey?” For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what to say. I had known this time was fast approaching, but had avoided thinking about the decision. I look at her with haunted eyes and say, “I don’t know what to do, Mother Superior. I really don’t. I like being Joy. I like my friends and my life…but I feel like I am expected to going back to being Joey… And, is it all just because I am used to being Joy now? It is all so confusing. What should I do? You are so wise—tell me, M.S., please!”

M.S. smiles and says, “I can’t tell you what to do, Child. But you are wiser than you know just for being perceptive enough to ask these questions of yourself and to seek counsel. I promised you that this would all be OK in the end—that you would be normal. The tattoos that you have; the ink that Zoey used is a special type that she has invented and will someday market and become very rich off of—after it passes all the requisite tests. If it is subjected to a special light, depending on certain settings, it will turn anywhere from transparent to so vivid it actually glows in the dark for several hours. If you want your tattoos to disappear, she can turn them transparent. When you are ready, all you have to do is remove your jewelry from your piercings and I will heal the holes—it will be as if they were never there. The changes that your female hormones have caused to your body will be reversed as soon as you stop taking the hormones and I turn on your male ones. So, you see, Joey is still there…but you have to choose to bring him back. Come, Child, lay down over here.”

I lay down on her couch and she once again lays her hands on me and I feel a glowing warmth come over me. When she is done, she is again visibly weakened—it must take a lot out of her to do whatever it is she does; but she seems much more weakened than the last time. She smiles at me and says, “Go. Sleep on it tonight. Trust your subconscious to make the proper decision for you—the one your deepest self wants. Then come see me tomorrow and we will discuss your future. I have given your subconscious a little help… Now, go, Child. I must rest—I am not as young as I once was.”

I leave her office and am surprised that it is already dark. It was midmorning when I had gone to talk to her. I glance at the clock tower and gasp—it is nine o’clock at night. What had seemed like minutes had taken hours. What did she do to me? I take inventory of myself. I don’t feel any different…just…pleasantly tired and sleepy. I yawn…

I wake up the next morning—refreshed. I had had vivid dreams of becoming a girl…a real girl. I took that to mean that my subconscious was guiding me to choose to stay as Joy. I am actually relieved—I have made my decision; and it is the one that I knew I wanted to make but was afraid to admit to. I bounce into the bathroom, blissfully ready to start my day…

I sit to pee and let out a scream as I notice that I am bleeding…from a real vagina…

I pull a long strip of toilet paper from the roll and fold it into a thick pad. I slip on a robe after I place the ‘pad’ inside my panties and then quickly hurry to Shauna’s room. I quietly, but insistently, knock on her door. After a couple of minutes, a sleepy Shauna opens and asks, “Joy? Where is the fire?” I push my way in and something in my look must register with Shauna, she is instantly awake and asks, “What is wrong? Are you OK?” I nearly pass out as my adrenaline surge wears off, so I sit and say, “I think I am going crazy!” I hold up my bloody hands and say, “My sheets are covered in it, too.” Shauna is instantly concerned and asks, “Where are you bleeding from? Do I need to get you to a doctor? Did you cut yourself? Di...” I just open my robe and pull down my panties…

Shauna shrieks, then is quiet for several heartbeats and then, finally, squeaks out, “Bbu…bbbuu….bbbut how? Ummm…let’s get you a tampon…you have already soaked that tissue…quite some flow you have there…” She guides me to the bathroom and I tell her about my conversation with M.S. from the day before…and my dreams…and how I had woken up to…this…

Shauna says, “Lucky I had to pick up this ‘variety pack’ of tampons last time…it was all they had…it has ones for heavy flow…” She helps me insert it and clean up in her bathroom. Once the blood is gone, she says, “Now, tell me again. Exactly what did M.S. say before you left?” I think back at what she had said… Go. Sleep on it tonight. Trust your subconscious to make the proper decision for you—the one your deepest self wants. Then come see me tomorrow and we will discuss your future. I have given your subconscious a little help… I say, “She said something about coming back today and that we would discuss my future after I had made my decision…” Shauna asks, “Did she…do…anything to you?” I say, “She laid her hands on me, but I was not like this when I went to bed; I know that for a fact—but she said to trust my subconscious…”

An hour later, Shauna and I are knocking on M.S.’s door. I hear a weak, “Come in,” and push open the door. M.S. is sitting behind her desk, still pale, and does not seemed at all surprised to see me—Shauna, however, is a bit of another story. She, none-the-less, waves us both in. She looks at Shauna and says, “Your family has long known my history, so I don’t mind if you stay. It is up to Joy…and you…as to whether you stay.” It takes all of two seconds to decide she is staying and M.S. continues, “So, I sense that Joy is here to stay.” It is not a question and I nod. “I understand that you are likely a very confused young lady right now—a real young lady. First, let’s settle that I did not directly do that. I gave you the power to do it to yourself if that was the path you chose…”

I gasp and feel faint. Shauna squeezes my hand and asks after I sit there in shocked silence, “You swore to the church that you would not use your powers anymore. Why with Joy? What would make you change your mind?” She looks at Shauna and says, “I swore I would not follow the Church’s orders on who to help and who not to help anymore. That is when we struck our deal and I came here, but this is not fair to Joy…she does not know my history.”

M.S. asks Shauna to make a pot of hot tea and moves to her couch. We sit and Shauna pours three cups of tea and lays out some cookies. M.S. starts her tale. She explains that, as a young girl, the Church had discovered her powers. In those days, magic was still misunderstood and she could have easily been prosecuted as a witch. It turns out that she is several hundred years old, but she is weakening. She is quick to tell us at our concerned looks that she is not going anywhere anytime soon, but that she is definitely growing old… Anyway, the church had taken her in and…abused…what they had taken to calling her ‘powers’; making her help those that they thought deserved it—and denying those they thought did not. She says, “You see, had I been a man, they would have pronounced me a saint performing miracles; as a woman, they did not want to broadcast that I had a ‘power’ and kept me hidden, instead.” She goes on to explain that in recent history, a few decades ago, the church had prevented her from healing someone that she deemed the correct person and made her heal another instead—this had been the polar wrong decision and had had severe consequences to humanity. It turns out that if M.S., just ‘Gwen’ at the time, had saved the girl and let the guy die, it would have resulted in a huge medical advance and a great coup for the church.

To my surprise, this is where Shauna…and Uncle Jeff’s family comes in. The girl that had died was part of their family—as an influential family, they threatened to expose the church and ensured that Gwen became a Sister and was never forced to use her powers against her will again. Eventually, about ten years ago, ‘Sister Gwenevere’ became the Mother Superior of Saint Paul’s. She rarely uses her powers anymore to avert attention—she only uses them in very special circumstances and only if she sees the use making a difference to the world. That is why Shauna, who knew this, was so surprised when I told her that she had healed me.

M.S. asks Shauna to make more tea and sips on the fresh hot brew. She sighs and says, “And now, my dearest Joy, I have to explain myself to you…and how you come to be sitting here as a real girl…one that has a lot to yet learn about herself. Vicki Rogers, your former principal is a dear friend of mine. When she contacted me about you and the fact that your tests showed some interesting results, I asked her to follow up with some additional tests. That is why you took so many. To be fully honest, your scores show you to be a genius, yes, but not in the capacity you were allowed to believe. We did not mislead you—we simply did not lead you. You were allowed to believe what you wanted—that you are a math genius. As you have likely figured out by now, you will never have much problem with math, but that is not your true strength. You scored off the chart on things like empathy and other things important to me…your upbringing had just masked those things. I was intrigued and agreed to work out a deal to take you on. Your Uncle Jeff actually footed the bill for the scholarship.” There is a gasp from both Shauna and I. She continues, “No, he had no idea who you were at the time…only that I saw potential and asked for his assistance.”

We take a quick break for all of us to go to the ladies room. Shauna makes me change my tampon… Then we are back and M.S. continues. She explains how she has been searching for someone with a very special character…and characteristics. The test that Mrs. Rogers had given me was designed to ferret out potential candidates. She explained that she had a small army of people administering the test…and that I was one of the few that had passed it. That is why she had pulled me here…

She sighs and then slowly continues, “Joy, now I have to apologize to you. You were put through some things…unplanned by me, but allowed by me none-the-less. They were completely unfair. The way I let Shauna and the others mistreat you.” Shauna blanches and M.S. says, “There is no denying that you were mistreating poor Joey, Shauna. It is OK…you have learned your lesson, right?” Shauna blushes and just nods. M.S. continues, “You were forced brutally into being a girl…bullied and very nearly tortured. I knew this was happening and allowed it. For that I apologize. What you must know, though, is that, depending on the outcome, I had the power to erase that whole series of events. I could have put your body back to where it started and erased your memories of any of it happening. There would have been no negative consequences to you. That does not make what happened right, but it was within my power. Do you understand the danger of my ‘powers’?”

She pauses, then continues, “Anyway, right or wrong, I let it go on as a test. I needed to know how you would react—and you reacted beautifully. You did not rise to the lure of money by attempting to sue us. You did not take the bait and try and retaliate against any of the girls. Then, when you had an out, one your Uncle Jeff knowingly gave you, you honored your agreement. You also experienced how it feels to be forced into something against your will…you will need to remember that experience. All of that, along with what I was able to read directly from you with my powers let me know that you were a prime candidate for whom I was looking for. There was just one thing left…I needed a girl…a real girl…and that had to be your choice—free and clear. No one could influence that…”

I don’t even know when the pizza was ordered, but there is a slight break as Shauna answers the door and pays for the pizza with the money that M.S. gives her. We sit back down and between bites of pizza, M.S. continues, “When you were in here yesterday, Joy, I transferred certain latent energy to you. That energy was to lay dormant until you made a choice one way or the other—to go back to Joey, or to remain as Joy. If you had chosen Joey, the energy would have quietly dissipated and you would have come here today for me to reverse all of your changes. When you chose Joy—from your innermost core—that energy fully activated and transformed you into the girl you are now. That energy is still active in you…and are only the beginning of the powers you will have as you…and they…mature.”

I sit there in shock. I don’t know how to respond to that… Shauna looks at M.S. and asks, “So, what does that mean, M.S.? You gave Joy your powers?” M.S. nods and says, “Sort of. I injected her with my energy. Her powers will develop in her own way. They are different in each of us that has them. I received mine a long time ago and it took me quite some time to grow into them. I don’t think it will take Joy as long, but it will take some time to see exactly what they grow into.”

I am still silent as I process all of this. Finally, I speak up and ask, “You said we would discuss my future today. I think you knew how I would choose. I don’t understand how, but we can talk about that little tidbit later. What exactly did you mean by that?” M.S. smiles and says, “See? That is what I mean—very perceptive of you. The choice is obviously up to you. I can only split my energy a very few times…you are the first in many, many decades…and the last to receive it. I was having a hard time regenerating before this split. I can barely manage it now. That energy is what has kept me alive for so long. Anyway, I gave that energy to you freely and you are free to use it as you choose.”

She pauses for effect and a sip of more tea. She continues, “My proposal is that you finish your degree here, under my tutelage to learn about and grow your powers. Then, with your Uncle’s financial support, you will start up a ‘school’, or maybe better said a ‘center’ of your own. One outside the confines of the church where there are no religious pressures to believe in a certain way. One where young people will attend that need a particular type of guidance that you and your team will be able to give. They may be volunteers—or mandated. You could use your new powers to their maximal good. I would, of course, be available as a resource when you need it. I know this is a lot to think about, but you have some time…”

I just nod...and take a sip of tea.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the end of this series of chapters, but the beginning of a universe that I plan on building out. There will be more to hear of Joy and her new center, “The Joy of Life”, in the future.