CHAPTER 16 -- After the End

My throat was sore. It hurt like hell. That was the first thing I was aware of. After a while, I noticed I couldn't close my mouth. I remember a long time of just being a sore throat and a mouth stuck open. And I noticed a finger tip hurt, like someone was squeezing it with pliers. And my arms hurt, I couldn't tell exactly where, but there was a sort of burning, pulling feeling, a little like I'd been stung by a big yellow jacket.

I opened my eyes, but couldn't figure out where I was. About then, I remembered I was supposed to be dead. I flirted with the idea that this was the afterlife, but I gave that up pretty fast. I guess I didn't take enough pills, or they were the wrong kind.

I noticed I couldn't move my hands. At first I thought I was paralyzed, but finally figured out that my hands were tied down somewhere. I still wasn't thinking too clearly. I tried to say, untie my hands, but I couldn't form words. I couldn't even control my breath. The thing in my mouth must be a breathing tube. I started to thrash around.

Somebody came over. "She's awake," I heard. I wondered who she was talking about. She disappeared. A few minutes later, someone else in a white coat came by. "Can you hear me?" I nodded vigorously. "Are you ready for me to take the tube out?" I nodded again. "Do you want it to stay in?" I shook my head really hard. "She's responsive." I realized they must think I'm a girl, not that I could blame them.

I won't say anything about taking the breathing tube out, except that it was uncomfortable. Very uncomforatble. My throat hurt even more, but it was nice to be breathing normally. After that, I just lay there, really bored, for the longest time. I looked around and figured out that there were IVs in both arms, and maybe other places.

Eventually, my mom and then my dad came in. They didn't say much, and I couldn't say much. My mom tried to hold my hand even though it was tied down.

"Why are my hands tied?"

"They were afraid you'd hurt yourself. " I wanted to say, that's stupid, but then I remembered I'd just tried to kill myself. "Oh, Martin--" she said and started to cry. I felt really, really bad, because I'd made my mother cry. I had a feeling I'd really fucked up. Finally, my mother calmed down and just sat with me.

"We sat by your bedside last night. We watched the machine breathe for you and prayed you'd be all right." I didn't know what to say.

I think I slept for a while, because the next thing I knew, my mom was gone, and all I heard was the beeping of all those machines. I wondered what time it was. Then I wondered what day it was. Finally, a doctor -- well, someone in a white coat -- came by. He got me to answer some questions, including "how many fingers do I have up?" I was tempted to lie, but then I figured he'd just leave me tied up and full of needles until the next time he came around. He walked away, and a little while later, some nurses came and started taking the needles and gadgets off of me, but they didn't untie me. They wheeled me all over the place into a room with three beds, and then they untied me. There were two guys like football players on either side of me. "Psych ward?" They nodded. "Locked?" They nodded again. "Shit," I said.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"4:30"

"A.m. or p.m.?"

"4:30 p.m. And before you ask, it's Saturday."

I found out why I was still alive. Teresa had looked at her phone when she got up to use the bathroom and she saw my message. She immediately guessed what it was about, flipped out and woke her parents. They read it and figured it out, too. They tried to call my parents but couldn't reach them, and nobody answered at home. They then got the number of the police and called them and persuaded them to go by. Aunt Edith being a social worker, she must have known what to say. They found the back door we never lock, searched around, found unresponsive me, the notes, the pill bottle, and the glass of vodka, and called an ambulance. If I'd lain there until my parents came home, I'd have been dead. Teresa had saved my life.

My mom and dad came in occasionally, but mostly I just looked out the window. It was nice, other than the fact that I couldn't go to the bathroom by myself. There were woods across the street and pigeons flying around. I didn't have any roommates, and I got all my meals in my room under the watchful eye of a nurse, so it took a while to figure out I was in a women's ward.

I asked the staff when I could go home.

"The psychiatrist will have to give her okay before you can leave. She'll be in on Monday." Well, more one day I won't have to go to West Hell. I thought, hey, why don't I just not go, like I did with gym? Why had I thought that killing myself was the only way out? It seemed so simple now, just refuse to go! I suddenly felt so stupid.

Sunday afternoon, Aunt Edith and Uncle Boris visited me. They'd come straight from the airport. Teresa wanted to come, too, but she was too young to be allowed to visit, so my folks took her home. They both gave me big hugs and cried and said they were so grateful I was still alive, which made me feel guilty. "I wish you could have waited a few more days to see what your old Uncle Bore could come up with. Well, you're alive, that's what counts."

On Monday, the psychiatrist visited me. She was nice, not like the analyst the school recommended. I told her about the sex-change and about the hell at school. I told her I just couldn't face another day at West Hell or any other school.

"Well, we'll just have to make sure you don't go back there, won't we?" She talked with my parents and my aunt and uncle, they'd all taken the day off. She arranged with them that I should see her twice a week in the out-patient facility. The hospital gave me my clothes -- the girl clothes I'd had on when I lay down to die. Then the four of them brought me home.

Teresa was waiting in the living room. When she saw me, she jumped up and ran to me. Then she started punching me, really hard. She hit my arms and kicked my legs. It hurt like hell.

"I am so mad at you! How could you do this? Why didn't you talk with me first? Or my parents?" She was punching me the whole time and crying. I tried to pull away, but she shouted, "don't move. I'm not going to injure you, I'm just going to give you lots of bruises because you deserve it."

Nobody stopped her. She kept yelling at me and hitting me. I tried to fend her off, but she just hit my arms more. She pushed me over the back of the sofa and started spanking me, hard. Then she just stood there, shaking and crying, and pulled me over onto the sofa and hugged me and said, "thank God you're alive. Don't ever do that again!" She kept hugging me and we flopped onto the sofa. We arranged ourselves so we were sitting next to each other, and she held one of my arms with both hands. My parents and my aunt and uncle sat down.

"Martin, we have a proposal," my uncle started. "The quickest way to get you out of West High is for you to move into a different district. If you'd like, we'd like for you to come and live with us. The local high school is Greenwood, and you could go there. It's not perfect, but it's not as bad as West. Or we could see if we can get you into Gabriel School, which is where Teresa goes. It's a charter school, and it's different from the other schools. They run a tight ship, and you wouldn't have to worry about bullying there."

I just looked at him.

"Okay, that's probably too many choices. Would you like to come live with us, which would mean no West High?"

I didn't know what to say. It would mean leaving the people I'd known all my life. They weren't perfect, but they tried. But I thought my aunt and uncle would be better at dealing with my problems. And no West High sounded great.

"Mom, Dad, I don't want to leave you all, but maybe I would be better off with Aunt Edith and Uncle Boris. I'd still come to see you."

"We want what's best for you," my dad said. "If you're willing, we think you should go." My mom nodded.

"Okay, I'll come."

Teresa interrupted. "I haven't agreed yet." She let go of me and turned to face me. Her face was maybe six inches from mine. "Martin, if you come to live with us, will you promise, cross your heart and hope to die, that you will never, never try to kill yourself without talking with us first? Never, never, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER?"

I got lost in all the "never"s, but I said, "I promise." She grabbed me and hugged me.

"So, when would I move?"

"Tonight, if you're ready."

"Now's as good a time as any." Dad found me a suitcase and Teresa and I went upstairs to my room. I packed one or two boy T-shirts that I liked and some of the pants that fit me, but mostly I just packed my girl clothes and my warm clothes. Teresa packed my CDs and rolled up my posters. She saw the note I left, my "will."

"Bunny?" I showed her my bunny, still stuck between the matress and the wall where it must have fallen when the EMTs pulled me out. "Oh, he's so cute. Like you. But I think he wants to be with you. And I think he was really sad that you -- well, you know." She packed him gently in the suitcase with my girl clothes.

When we got downstairs, my mother had picked my clothes out of the laundry to take with me. I gathered my stuff. Biff and Pete were downstairs, and I hugged them and then my mom and dad. Then Teresa and my aunt and uncle and I went out the door.

CHAPTER 17 -- My New Home

On the way over to her folks' place -- my new home -- Teresa talked about her school. She made it pretty obvious she hoped I would go there.

"It's not like other schools. They have uniforms, one uniform for the boys and another for the girls. There's always somebody around from the school keeping an eye on things wherever you are, and if they think things are getting out of hand, they step in right away. I've never seen a fight, and only ever seen someone hit someone once, my whole time there. They're also strict about anyone saying nasty things about someone else. They take kids disrespecting one another just as seriously as disrespecting a teacher.

"But they encourage you to think. You can disagree with the teachers, as long as you're not disruptive. Sometimes you can convince them to change their mind. And they're good about encouraging girls to do well. My dad put me into Gabriel when I was in fifth grade because the regular school was saying stuff like: girls just don't do well at math."

The keeping an eye on things didn't bother me; I wished they'd done more of that at West High. I didn't mind a uniform, either, as long as it wasn't too uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, my arms and legs were aching from where Teresa had hit me. I knew I was going to have some big bruises. But in a way, I liked them. I liked having Teresa care enough to be that mad at me.

When we got there, Teresa and Aunt Edith helped me get my stuff upstairs. "You'll stay in the guest room for now," said my aunt. "You and Teresa can decide if you will share a room or we'll make the guest room yours."

"Oh, I hope we can share a room! I always wanted a sister" -- then she corrected herself -- "or a brother, too, anyway, someone I could share a room with."

It was obvious she wanted to see me as a sister, not a brother, but it didn't get to me the way it would have. Maybe the suicide attempt had changed me. Maybe it killed the part of me that got so upset at the idea. Or maybe the part of me that could get upset at all.

The guest room was sort of half office, half bedroom. There was a bed with some cushions so it was sort of like a couch. There was a desk and a bookcase, but no dresser. There was a closet which was partly empty. We unpacked. I put the laundry my mom had gathered in the hamper in the bathroom. I piled the clothes that didn't go into the closet on the desk. Aunt Edith brought in some sheets and some extra blankets.

We hung around in the room, not saying much. I realized I hadn't showered in over three days, then I realized I'd forgotten to bring any soap or shampoo. Teresa said I could use hers, so I took a shower and put on clean clothes. It was still funny that "clean clothes" now meant a bra and girl-style underwear and a skirt.

At dinner, they all tried to make me feel like I belonged there, but I felt like only a piece of me was there. Another piece was in my old bedroom, and another was in the hospital, and another was still in that classroom where Tom and his buddies dragged me to.

At the end of dinner, Aunt Edith talked to me.

"Martin, I know you're still shook up by everything, but soon you're going to have to make some decisions. Not right now, I think you need some time, but we'd like you to be thinking about them.

"First, which school. Greenwood is pretty good, but it has some of the same problems as West High, just not as bad. If you want to go to Gabriel, we'll have to apply and see if they accept you. I don't know how long that will take. I think it would be a good place for you. They're known for being good at dealing with people with problems like handicaps or racism. They've had a few trans kids there, too. But they're old-fashioned in some ways and strict about behavior.

"Second, whichever school you go to, you'll have to decide if you want to go as a boy or as a girl. You know as well as I do what's involved with each.

"You don't have to decide right away, but we'd like to know this week if you can."

My uncle spoke up. "Martin, I don't know how you're feeling now. If you think you need more time to recover from all you've been through, please do. If you need more than a week, let us know. But the sooner you decide, the sooner you can settle into a new routine."

It took me a while before I could say anything. Nobody said anything. Finally, I said, "can I have a day or two to settle down?"

"Sure," my aunt said.

After dinner, I helped clean up. Afterwards, I went up to bed, but first my uncle and aunt each gave me a big hug and told me they loved me. My aunt told me, "no matter what you decide, we'll support you. It doesn't matter if you're a nephew or niece or somewhere in between."

I was beat. It had been a long day, but not in hours. But after I got into my pj's and into bed and Teresa gave a couple of good-night hugs, I lay in bed awake for a while, not really thinking. Maybe I was gathering the pieces of myself. Like my soul had to walk all the way to West High and then to my house and then to the hospital to pick up the pieces.

CHAPTER 18 -- Decisions

The next day, I had my first appointment with Dr. Gordon, the psychiatrist who had seen me in the hospital. My uncle took me over. He works in the admissions office at a college nearby, so he can duck out during the day. Dr. Gordon was real nice. She said she thought I had some acute stress disorder from the rape attempt, made worse by the constant assaults at school. I talked about the decisions I had to make, but she didn't give me any guidance, just encouraged me to talk about how I felt about them.

It was real quiet in the house during the day, with my aunt and uncle at work and Teresa at school. I mostly just sat or lay around in my room and listened to CDs or read books. When I couldn't stand being cooped up any more, I'd take a walk in the woods. When I got bored with that, I'd do chores around the house. I did the laundry. One time, I even vacuumed the house. It was better when Teresa got home, but she always had homework, so she could only hang out for a little while. By Thursday, I wanted to make my decisions, if only because I was tired of being in limbo.

I talked it over with Teresa first when she got home. "I think I want to go to Gabriel. That way, at least I'll know one person."

"Two. Carol goes there, too."

"Also, the idea that people don't harrass each other sounds like heaven. Is that really true?"

"If you don't believe me, do you want to call Carol and ask her?"

"No, I believe you. Also, I think I'll try going as a girl. I don't exactly want to, it's just that it sounds less complicated than getting everyone to see me as a boy who just happens to look like a girl." I sighed. "The trouble is, I don't know how to act like a girl."

"Why don't you just act like yourself? My mom and I can help you with anything you really need to know. And the nice thing about Gabriel is that a lot of it doesn't matter. They won't pick on you for not acting like a girl is supposed to act. You just have to behave. And do your work." She looked over at her stack of books and sighed.

"What if I don't get in?" I wondered.

"Try Greenwood. I know some people who go there, and they've survived. I'd go as a girl, though. There are a lot of people there who would never understand somebody being a guy who just happens to look exactly like a girl."

When my uncle got home, I told him, and then tried to help him with dinner. When my aunt got home, I told her.

"Do you want us to start calling you Melanie?" she asked "Or do you want to continue to be Martin when you're at home?"

"Either one is fine." What I actually meant was 'whatever', but I thought I'd practice being a little more upbeat than I usually am.

"We'll see how it goes."

The next day, Uncle Boris set things up with the school. West High would send my school records, Dr. Gordon would send a report, the doctors would send their records, and I would have an interview next week, after the paperwork got there. Teresa offered to lend me her spare uniform for the interview. "It'll look better if you dress like you're already going there."

CHAPTER 19 -- Dressing the Part

Friday night, Teresa and my aunt inventoried my clothes, so we could go shopping the next day and buy what I needed. Some of the clothes I'd brought were from before my "metamorphosis" and didn't fit me. (I'd found the Kafka story and decided I liked the word, even though the story was pretty depressing.) Now that I was going to dress as a girl, there were things I'd need. Like another skirt or two -- one denim skirt wasn't going to cut it. I could have gone with pants, but the pants I'd tried were still pretty uncomfortable. More underwear, socks, and tights. Shoes. Some blouses and sweaters. And a nicer-looking outfit, maybe a dress or blouse and skirt.

So, Saturday morning, Teresa and my aunt packed me in the car to go clothes shopping. Carol had attached herself to the expedition, too: her words were "I wouldn't miss it for the world." In the car, Teresa and Carol did most of the talking, but since Teresa was in the front and Carol in the back, I could hear what they were saying, and they tried to include me.

My aunt asked me, "Melanie, do you think you'd like to come with us to church on Sundays?"

"Sure."

"Then you'll probably want a nice outfit. People at our church dress up for church -- we're a little old-fashioned that way -- and you'll feel out of place if you don't."

The three of them pretty much took over once we got to the mall. They were nice about it, and asked if I liked the things they were recommending, but mostly they treated me like a dress-up doll. I didn't mind. It was nice to be fussed over. I ended up with a longer skirt in some kind of cotton, a nice-looking navy blue skirt that went just past my knees, some white blouses and some pastel ones, some camisoles and a slip so my bra wouldn't be visible, some more underwear, now that they knew my size, and some more socks and tights. Oh, and some sweaters. They also got some pantyhose, saying that if I ever needed to dress up, I'd need them. They also got me some shoes. None of them were ones I would have ever worn as a guy, but they weren't super-girly, either. One pair was for dressing up, like for church. They did a good job. Nothing was super-feminine, but it was still nice-looking.

We also looked for pants, but we couldn't find anything that didn't rub too much. We tried on one pair that looked like silk pajama bottoms and didn't irritate my thighs too much, but I just couldn't see wearing it anywhere.

Finally, we went to look for an outfit for church. I was pretty tired by this time, so I wasn't paying much attention. They got me to try on a couple of dresses, but weren't satisfied with any of them, so I didn't bother even looking in the mirror. I did decide I didn't want any sleeveless dresses, though. Then they found a blue one, and this time, I did look in the mirror. It was kind of a shock. It was some kind of light blue satin with a darker blue sheer layer over it that moved, so some parts were lighter and others darker. It had a full skirt that went over my knees and puffed short sleeves. It looked really pretty and it made me look pretty, too. I wasn't sure I was ready to look that pretty, though. They all liked it, so they bought it and hoped I would someday like it, too. It helped that it was on sale. Finally, Aunt Edith picked out a navy blue shirtdress for me.

When we got home, Teresa and Carol insisted I model all the clothes for my aunt and uncle. They also started teaching me how I had to stand and sit so I wouldn't flash anyone. That pretty much took up the rest of the afternoon, and Carol hung around for dinner.

I wore the shirtdress with pantyhose and the slip to church. I noticed that my outfit was pretty plain compared to the other girls there, but I didn't think it looked too out of place. After church, Teresa introduced me to some of the high school kids there, but didn't say anything about my past. They asked if I was going to come to youth group. I said I didn't know, I hadn't even settled school yet. Fortunately, we had to go then, so I didn't have to answer any questions I wasn't ready to answer.

CHAPTER 20 -- The Interview

My paperwork got to the school, and they told me to come in Thursday afternoon. Teresa lent me her spare uniform: a skirt and vest. I could use my own tights and blouse. Fortunately, they were a bit big on her, because I was a little larger than Teresa, even after the shrinkage caused by my metamorphosis.

My uncle walked me into the school office. They seemed to know exactly who we were. That was pretty much how it always was there: they seemed to know who you were and what you were doing even before you did. They took my cell phone -- they had a cabinet with lots of little slots for cell phones -- and then had me sit down. I told my uncle I'd call him when I was done, and he left. After about ten minutes, the school psychologist called me in.

I sat up straight on the chair with my knees together, like I'd been taught, and pulled the hem of my skirt down. She looked at me patiently, and then asked, "tell me about what brings you to our school."

I was real nervous. I started with the accident and the mix-up at the hospital. Then I told about changing and the harrassment at school. I kind of glossed over the assault in the classroom (I had trouble saying the word "rape") and my suicide attempt. I knew the suicide would come up, but I couldn't figure out how to talk about it. I tried to remember how Teresa had told me that we were supposed to say "ma'am" or "sir," but I wasn't sure I was getting it right.

"Your records say 'Martin', but you've applied as 'Melanie.'"

"Well, ma'am, after the, uh, change, I tried telling people I was a boy, and I got nothing but trouble. People who didn't know me assumed I was a girl, and people who did know me acted mean or weird. I thought I'd try living as a girl for a while. It can't be any worse."

"That makes sense. From now on, as far as we're concerned, you're Melanie, but we'll know you used to be Martin. You're living with your aunt and uncle, now. Why?"

"I had to get out of West High, and moving to a different district was a way to do it. Besides, my, uh, change has been hard on my parents. They don't really know what to do about it. My aunt and uncle are a lot easier with it. I hope it isn't a problem."

"No, I just wanted to know the why. Now, tell me about this incident which got you suspended."

"Isn't it in the psychiatrist's report, ma'am?"

"Yes, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"Yes, ma'am." She looked amused, I think at all the "ma'am"s. I explained about people groping and grabbing me, and then how they pulled me into the classroom. When I described my clothes being pulled off, I started to shake. I finished with, "and then they hit my head, hard, and then I saw the boy's pants were down." I couldn't finish.

"Did he touch you?"

"With his fingers. Ma'am. A teacher came in before he had time to do anything else."

"I saw the school report." I was afraid it was all over. "Your version is a lot more believable. I can see you've been through a lot. Are you anxious about coming back to school?"

I nodded. "A little, ma'am." I suddenly remembered how I was supposed to be sitting and arranged myself. "But I can't just stay at home. And they say your school is a lot better than West High. I would be ...." I trailed off, not knowing the right word.

"Safe?" I nodded. "I guess that explains the suicide attempt?" I nodded again. She looked at me expectantly.

"I was afraid I'd have to go back to West High. I couldn't face that." I was looking at the floor now.

"It says you sent a message to your cousin after you took the pills. Were you hoping she'd save you?" Dr. Gordon had asked me that, too.

"I didn't think that was what I was doing. But she was the only person my age I knew who had stuck with me. I wrote her a letter, but I wanted to leave her something, I don't know, more personal. I didn't know she'd be able to get the cops there within an hour and a half. Maybe some part of me did want to live."

"I think that's why you're here now." We sat quietly for a few minutes. "I think you're very brave. Now, it's time for you to see Ms. Williamson. She's the principal. She'll decide whether you get in. Oh, and Melanie: if you do get in, please don't kill yourself." She said that last with an attempt at a chuckle.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dare. Teresa would kill me if I did." This time, she did chuckle.

I sat on a chair outside Ms. Williamson's office for maybe five minutes. I figured she was talking with the psychologist. Then she called me in.

Ms. Williams was a large black woman. I think the word "formidable" was invented to describe her. She didn't look like someone you wanted to mess with. She was looking kindly at me, so maybe you were safe if she liked you.

"Hello, Melanie," she said, then added, "who used to be Martin."

"Hello, Ms. Williams." I was doing my best to say the right thing. She showed me to a chair, and I tried to sit properly.

"Is the 'used to be Martin' correct? Or are you just Melanie at school?"

"It's not a secret that I was -- or maybe really am -- a boy, ma'am. My parents still call me Martin, and that's fine with me. My aunt and uncle and cousin have started calling me Melanie. I'm fine with either name. I just thought it would be simpler to be called Melanie and be a girl at school."

"Just to satisfy my curiousity, do you plan on continuing to be Melanie after you graduate?"

"Ma'am, I haven't had time to think about that. I have a hard time thinking past the end of this year."

"Fair enough." Then she started getting more formal.

"Melanie, do you understand that we're a lot stricter here than at your old school?" I nodded. "You'll be supervised everywhere, and only allowed to be where you are supposed to be. Some students have difficulty with that."

"It will be worth it to me if it means I won't get harrassed, ma'am." I shuddered.

"Do you understand that you'll be expected to be polite and respectful at all times?" I nodded. "I see you've already heard about our dress code. You don't mind the uniform?"

"No, ma'am. It's nice, actually. Teresa lent it to me."

"In particular, you will have to be respectful of the other students, and of the teachers. Bad language and insults, even insults about people who aren't there, will not be tolerated. It goes without saying that physical assaults are not allowed."

"Ma'am, that sounds like heaven."

"Some of our methods are a little old-fashioned, do you think you can adjust?"

"Ma'am, I'll do my best."

She sat down in a chair opposite me. "Melanie, what do you hope to get out of coming to Gabriel School?"

"Ma'am, I'm hoping to be able to study and learn in peace. Not have to worry about what people will do to me. Maybe make a few friends."

She seemed satisfied, and went to her desk. "Your grades look good. A little lower this year, but that's not surprising. I see you got an F in physical education."

"I got harrassed a lot in the locker room, once I started, uh, changing. Especially the shower. Especially after the kids found out what was happening to me. I refused to go any more."

"Where did you go?"

"The library. I used to do my homework there, because they had to leave me alone there. You can ask the librarian."

"You realize you would have to go to physical education class here? Are you willing to do that if you can trust that you won't be harrassed?"

"Yes, ma'am. I didn't mind the activities, just being dumped on and jumped on all the time. I'm not very good at it, though."

"Don't worry, we only expect you to make an effort."

She looked at me, sort of examining me. Then she stood up, walked over to me, and shook my hand.

"We look forward to having you as a student. Can you start on Monday?"

"I think so. Ma'am." I was dizzy with relief and had trouble standing. She practically had to pull me up.

"Good. Stop by the nurse's office and then the guidance counselor to set up your schedule on your way out. Report to the office at 8:15 on Monday. We'll have someone accompany you for the first day or two until you get adjusted."

"Thank you, ma'am. I hope I won't give you any reason to regret it."

"I'm sure you won't."

I stumbled out of her office and looked around for the nurse's office. I walked by an open door and someone called out "Melanie!" It was the nurse's office. We went through the usual health questions, but one question got to me: "are you menstruating?" Six months ago I would have thought it was crazy. Now, all I could say was, "yes, ma'am. Twice so far." She told me she had supplies, plus there were tampons in the bathrooms. If I needed to, I could come to her any time, just ask a teacher.

The guidance counselor was a man. Like everyone else, he seemed to know my whole story.

"I've scheduled you with the same classes you were taking at West High," he said. "The teachers will help you get up to speed. Are you good at math?"

I shrugged, "I like it, sir."

"We'll schedule you for regular math at the same time as the advanced class. Once you're settled in, maybe we can switch you." He handed me a sheet of paper. "Here are the supplies you need to pick up for your first day. I assume your cousin can fill you in on the dress code." He reached out his hand. "Welcome to Gabriel, Melanie."

I shook it, and said, "thank you, sir." I retrieved my cell phone and called my uncle to go home. My new home. From my new school.

CHAPTER 21 -- My First Day

Teresa filled me in on the dress code. For girls it was:

• White blouse with a collar and sleeves.
• Knee-length jumper or skirt and vest in the school plaid.
• Tights or knee socks (ankle socks in hot weather) in white, black, or navy.
• Black or brown tie-up shoes, heels no higher than one inch.
• No visible underwear. For girls, this mainly meant that if the blouse was sheer enough to see the bra, she had to have something over the bra.
• No make-up.
• No jewelry except for possibly a small religious symbol.

We also had to have a "gym suit," which Teresa didn't explain.

I already had everything except the jumper or skirt and vest. And the gym suit. We went to the store that carried the school uniform and picked up one jumper, one skirt, and one vest in my size. I noticed that the jumper and vest had a patch with a yellow starburst. I wondered if this was part of the uniform or just a decoration. I recalled that Teresa's had had one, too. They measured me and picked out a navy blue package for me, which turned out to be the gym suit. Anyway, I took the opportunity to get the school supplies and a backpack just like Teresa's.

Teresa drilled me on correct behavior at Gabriel on and off over the weekend. I don't know if I actually learned anything, or just found more reasons to be nervous.

So, bright and early Monday morning, I put on my new school uniform, and my uncle dropped me and Teresa off at Gabriel school. She headed for her first class and I went to the office. A man who looked like he had just graduated from college was waiting for me. He had a sweater vest on with the same starburst patch as mine, though he wasn't in the school plaid. He showed me my locker, but I didn't have anything to put in it yet.

As he led me to my first class, which was English, I saw other students walking up and down the halls rather purposefully, but nobody just hanging out. It seemed awfully quiet, even though I could see people talking to one another, and I noticed that the ceiling and the walls above the lockers had some sort of panels. My guide saw me gawking and informed me that they were sound-absorbing. "That way, students can talk to one another and not have to shout."

The room was mostly full when I arrived. It had about thirty old-fashioned school desks in neat rows. The teacher said, "Miss Melanie Rawlings, I presume?" When I nodded, she handed me a stack with some papers and a few paperback books. "We're studying The Grapes of Wrath right now, have you read it?" I nodded again. "Then we'll be happy to have you join in the discussion." She directed me to an empty desk. Teresa had explained that we all had assigned desks, so I tried to remember which one it was. She told the class, "this is Melanie Rawlings. She's just starting today, as I think you're all aware. Let's try to make her feel welcome."

I planned to keep quiet the first day to give me a chance to figure out how things worked. I noticed that everyone addressed the students as "Mr." or "Miss" with last names, including other students, so I was "Miss Rawlings." The teacher rated a "Ms." Everyone seemed intent on the discussion. There wasn't any chatter, just people raising their hands and speaking when recognized. The teacher was mostly a moderator, but sometimes stepped in with observations or questions, or, occasionally, to ask a person to be more "respectful." I noticed for the first time that, atop the old-fashioned blackboard, there was a big banner that said "respect."

I tried to inconspicuously look at the stack the teacher had given me. It had a syllabus, a schedule of homework for the week, and a short list of supplies I needed.

My guide appeared just as class was ending and brought me to math. I noticed that Teresa was there, and waved. She gave me a big smile, but didn't wave. Maybe waving was not okay. I got the same little speech from the teacher as in English, and a textbook and a small stack of papers. Aside from the Mister- and Miss-ing and the lack of chit-chat, it could have been my class at West High.

The 10th graders all had lunch at the same time, so I sat with Teresa and her friends. She introduced me, and I apologized in advance that I might not remember them all right away. The lunchroom was quiet, like the halls, and I saw the same sound absorbing stuff there. The conversations seemed normal, with everyone using first names, not like the classroom. One girl, who I later got to know was Bethany, asked Teresa, "can I ask her about--?" but Teresa said, "come on, give her a few days before you start giving her the third degree."

I had to use the bathroom, which meant the girls' bathroom. I thought it would be weird, but I went in and used a stall and although people gave me a second glance, nobody said anything. I already had the impression that everyone knew everyone, so maybe they were just noticing a new face. I hoped so.

They had one funny class, though. It was called "Respect," like the banner over the blackboard in each classroom. What it mainly was was us discussing interactions during the day. We sat with desks in a circle and students would bring up things that had happened at school or elsewhere, or the teacher would bring up a situation, and we were supposed to figure out how to handle it with respect. Fortunately, we got some coaching from the teacher. There was a lot of trying to figure out how someone else might feel, and even some role-playing. I found out later that for most of the students, it was their first year at the school, so it must have been the beginner class.

My guide brought me to the girls' locker room when it was time for Phys Ed, but didn't follow me in. One of the girls noticed me standing around looking puzzled, and said, "New here?" I nodded. "Well, you have to change into your gym suit. Find an empty locker." I dug out the navy blue package and pulled out something with short sleeves and a zipper. I looked at the other girls. They were undressing completely and putting on something that looked like a shirt and a pair of loose shorts with elastic cuffs sewn together. The other girls were stepping into it and pulling it on and zipping it up. I undressed, but couldn't figure out the suit. Maybe I would have been nervous about undressing, except that I was so busy trying to figure out the gym suit. Another girl, who was already suited up, came over and helped me with it. I expected people to make fun of me, but all she said was, "new?" I nodded. "Pretty dorky, huh? But it's kind of practical. Come on, get your gym shoes on." That I could handle.

I was the last one into the gym. Everyone else was sitting on a bench or standing and stretching. The coach, a woman wearing a suit similar to ours, but with utter self-assurance, gave me a smile and said, "Miss Melanie Rawlings?" I was beginning to get used to this.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry I'm late."

"Trouble with the suit?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did anyone help you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I don't think I would have figured it out if someone hadn't helped me. I'm sorry, I don't know her name."

She directed us in a series of calisthenics: push-ups, sit-ups, and some more complicated ones I didn't recognize the names of. I think the directions were more for me; the other girls seemed to know what to do already. Some of the girls were pretty athletic and did one sit-up after another for the longest time. Another girl, who was fairly fat, looked like she was having trouble doing even one of each, but to my surprise, nobody made any disparaging comments. Her partner simply said words of encouragement and counted what she managed to do. I think I was about average for the class. By the end of it, we were all sweaty and I was tired all over. She had us run across the gym and back in groups of three, and then gave some people suggestions for how to run. Finally we did some basketball practice. Not games exactly, but dribbling, throwing, and shooting baskets. The athletic girls would do trick shots, even blocking one another. People like me just dribbled and shot, and if we missed, one of the girls who was waiting would retrieve the ball and give me another chance. The fat girl and one or two others got two extra chances, though they got it in pretty often.

I was really nervous about the shower, but the other girls just took off their suits, grabbed towels from a bin, and marched into the showers. The showers were individual stalls, which I was grateful for, but nobody seemed to care if people saw them. And nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me. When I was drying, though, I caught one girl sort of staring. When she saw me see her, she said, "I'm sorry. You're Melanie, right? The new girl? I heard your story and, well, I wasn't expecting someone who looked like any other girl. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. Especially your first day."

"It's okay," I said as I continued drying myself. "I figured everyone would be curious and asking all kinds of questions. In fact, I'm surprised you were the only one who stared."

"Oh, we wouldn't. It wouldn't be respecting you."

"Boy, it's sure not like West High. By the way, what do I do with the suit?"

"There should be a basket with your name on it on the shelves by the wall. You bring it home on Friday to wash it. Maybe earlier if it gets really stinky. You leave your shoes and gym socks there, too. And your gym underwear, if you use any. The girls with big boobs usually bring a sports bra."

"Why the 'dorky' suit, anyway? Why not a T-shirt and shorts?" It was the first time since lunch I'd had the chance to just talk to someone.

"It's so you can do all kinds of things, like head-stands and stuff, and you don't have to worry about flashing anyone. And since we're all dorky together, we don't mind that they make us look dorky."

By now I was dressed. My guide was patiently waiting for me just outside the door to take me to my last class, which was study period. It was right next door to the library, so we could go directly in to look at reference books. I took the time to go through my textbooks and all the papers the teachers had given me.

And then it was time to catch the bus to go home. Teresa and my guide were waiting for me and they both showed me where to wait for the district school bus. My guide asked if I needed him the next day, and I said I thought I could find my way now and thanked him.

When the bus came, there were already kids on it. The bus served several private schools in addition to Gabriel. Teresa and some of the others made a point of greeting several of them by name, but when she found an empty bench, she put me next to her, next to the window. "There's a feeling at the other schools that Gabriel students are snobby and cliquish. We do tend to stick together, because we can trust that other Gabriel students will act respectfully, and we can't always with other schools. We've been trying to do stuff to make us seem less snobby, but it doesn't always work. So we have to be careful."

For the rest of the ride, I told Teresa about my day. She told me I did pretty well. "I'm sorry I didn't show you how to put on the gym suit. I had trouble my first day, too."

"It's okay. The other girls were very helpful. If I'd known how to do it the first time, I wouldn't have found out how helpful they are."

When we got home we went upstairs to study. Teresa changed out of her uniform, but I didn't bother. Actually, I kind of liked it. We went to our desks, me in the guest room and Teresa in her room. I kept needing to ask Teresa things about the homework, and one time, she asked me something about math.

"You know," she said, "it would be easier if we shared a room. And a lot more fun. Hint, hint, hint."

Homework and dinner took up most of the evening, but we finished up in time to spend an hour hanging out before we had to go to bed. I was pretty beat and went to bed a little early.

Content note: dream violence.

CHAPTER 22 -- A Rocky Settling In

The rest of the week went so smoothly I got a little nervous. I got all my homework done. I had my third period, and thought I managed it okay. I started to participate a little in discussions, and I was learning the other students' names. People were friendly but a little distant. I kept eating lunch with Teresa, and her friends were a little less distant there. Bethany finally got to ask about me, and I told her the short version of my story which didn't go into the gory details. Even the sanitized version made them look on in horror. It surpassed their darkest suspicions about West High.

Tuesday, I was notified that I would take a different bus on Tuesdays and Fridays which would drop me off at Dr. Gordon's office. Wednesday, I rode the bus home alone, because Teresa was in chorus on Wednesdays.

By Friday night, I was feeling better about everything than I had in a long time. Living as a girl was working out, at least in the short term. School was working out. So when Teresa asked if we could share a room, I said, sure. It turned out that Teresa's bed was a bunk bed, which they'd bought hoping they'd have a second child, and the upper bunk was in the attic. Saturday, we went out to buy a mattress, a dresser, and some desk and bed lights. Teresa made room for my clothes in her closet. Her parents arranged the room with the dressers between the desks so we wouldn't distract each other, set up the lights so one of us could sleep while the other had light to study or read. And by Saturday night, I was moved in her room.

It had been a long time since I'd shared a room. At first, I felt like I had to interact with Teresa all the time, but that didn't work. I had to learn to ignore her sometimes, especially when we had to study. But it was also nice, to have someone to say good night to you and then, when we were in bed, to hear her breathing and know I wasn't all alone. I guess I still had some boy in me, because it also felt cool to be sharing a room with a girl, even if nothing was going to happen.

Teresa started giving me lessons on how to act more like a girl. How to sit, how to stand, how to walk, how to talk. She got me to brush my hair a lot, and reminded me to check how my clothes were fitting, so I would look my best. I couldn't believe how much time I needed to spend on my appearance just so I'd look "presentable." My voice had gone up in pitch, but I needed to raise my speaking voice even higher. I wasn't sure she was right, since some of the girls at school had lower voices than me, but I did what she told me, anyway.

I also spent a lot of time watching the other girls to see what they did, what they liked, what they talked about, how they acted friendly or not friendly. I really wanted to fit in so people would treat me like I was normal. I knew how to act like a normal boy, sort of, but now that anyone who looked at me would see a girl and not a boy, I was going to have to learn to act like a girl. I was really sick of being a freak.

Youth group was two Sunday evenings a month, and that Sunday was youth group, so at church, the kids my age asked again if I was coming. I said maybe next time, but I was still pretty stressed out about my new school. I also called up my parents, because Uncle Boris reminded me that they hadn't seen or heard from me in three weeks. I told them how things were going and they told me they missed me. They called me Martin, which was both nice and strange.

The second week of school went about as smoothly as the first week, except that every now and then, I'd get this weird feeling like everything was strange and weird and I didn't know where I was or how I got there, except that part of me knew exactly where I was and what I had to do. It was like having double vision. I'd have to stand for a minute and ask the part of my brain that remembered where I was and what I was supposed to do next. One time somebody noticed me standing there with a dazed look and asked if I was okay. I mentioned it to Dr. Gordon and she said it was called dissociation. She wasn't surprised it was happening, what with all the stuff I'd gone through, but as long as it didn't happen too often or make problems I shouldn't worry about it.

Then, one night, I think it was Thursday because I saw Dr. Gordon the next day, I had a nightmare. I woke up shaking and a second later, the light went on and Teresa was standing next to my bunk looking at me (I was sleeping on the top bunk.)

"What's the matter? You were screaming."

"Just a nightmare." I started remembering the dream, which was funny because usually my dreams start fading as soon as I wake up.

I heard Aunt Edith and Uncle Boris coming up the stairs and got down off the bed.

"Melanie had a nightmare," Teresa explained when they came in.

"Can you tell us what it was?" asked my aunt.

"I was back at West High. It was Halloween, and I was dressed in a school uniform, only it was very girly, lots of ruffles and bows and stuff, and it made me look like I was six years old. Everything was going fine, nobody was harrassing me, and then Tom Prescott and his gang dragged me off to the gym. The principal was helping them. They had this big altar set up and a bonfire with stones around it, and Ms. Williams was the priestess and the principal was the priest. They needed to sacrifice a virgin, and they'd picked me. It seems the accident in the hospital wasn't an accident, they had arranged it so they would have a virgin. I kept pleading with them, saying I was really a boy, but they said I wasn't any more. For some reason, I was more virginal than any of the real girls, or maybe they just didn't want to sacrifice any of them. Anyway, Ms. Williams was holding a stake. She was going to drive it through my vagina, and then they were going to cut out my heart and throw it on the bonfire. That's when I woke up."

I was still pretty shaken by the dream, even though it was just a dream. Teresa looked grossed out by it, my aunt and uncle just looked concerned. We all went down to the living room and my aunt sat next to me on the sofa while my uncle got me something to drink. Teresa sat on the other end of the sofa with her knees pulled up to her chin, looking at me. My aunt put her arms around me and held me close to her, and it made me feel a little better. After I'd had something to drink, my uncle put a blanket over us and gave Teresa another one. My aunt held me and stroked my shoulder until I fell asleep.

I told Dr. Gordon about it. She tried to get me to think about the things that were going well, but she also told me that she wanted me to tell her about things like this. I'd run out of things to tell her about the time before my suicide attempt. I was mostly talking about what it was like living as a girl and not knowing if I was really a girl or a boy or both or neither. And being afraid I wasn't going to be me any more.

I wouldn't have remembered the third week, except that two things happened. The first was that I got paddled. I was used to using curse words, especially when I was upset. We did this all the time at West High and nobody thought anything of it. I knew it was forbidden at Gabriel and thought I was doing pretty well, except that every now and then, the teacher would look sharply at me and say, "Miss Rawlings, what did you just say?" I'd replay what I said in my mind and realize I'd used one of those words. They told me I'd get two warnings and then I'd have to go to the principal's office.

Sometime in the third week, I used up my warnings. I got sent to the principal's office. She was waiting for me.

"Miss Rawlings, I understand you've been using certain words in class that we've made it clear to you you shouldn't use."

I was really scared. I wasn't sure what would happen to me, maybe get expelled. "Y-y-yes, ma'am. I'm very sorry and will try harder not to in the future."

"I'm sure you will. However, I think your intentions need some reinforcement. I think I warned you that some of our methods are a little old-fashioned."

Ms. Ellis, the psychologist came in. Her face looked grim. I was even more scared.

"Please pull down your tights and underwear," said Ms. Williams. I had to pull the waistband of my skirt up to about my chest to get to the top of the tights. I pulled them down to my knees. "That's good enough," she said. "Now turn around and bend over the desk." I noticed that there weren't any papers or anything on one end of the desk. I put my hands down on the desk and lay my face on them. I was really scared, mostly because I didn't know what was going to happen, but also humiliated, having my butt exposed like that. I felt like I was ready to cry, but I tried not to, it would have made me even more humiliated.

I felt someone flip my skirt up onto my back. I heard a whoosh and then felt something hard slap my butt, very hard. I couldn't help letting out an "oh!" I felt my butt starting to sting when the second slap came. It was all I could do not to shout or turn around and defend myself with my hands. I counted ten whacks.

"You may turn around and pull your clothes back up," Ms. Williams said. When I turned around, I noticed her holding a kind of paddle. I pulled up my underpants and tights as quickly as I could, but that wasn't very fast. They tended to get tangled, maybe because I didn't have much experience. Once I got them up and arranged, I slid my skirt down and tugged and twisted things until they looked more or less okay. Ms. Williams looked satisfied, while Ms. Ellis still looked grim. No one said anything until I was done.

"You may return to class. Please try to be more careful with your words in the future."

I don't know if I was supposed to say anything, but I didn't. I stumbled out of the office and back to class. I was having trouble believing what had just happened, and maybe I wouldn't have, except that my butt was still stinging. No one said anything when I got back, and we went on as if nothing had happened. My butt hurt for a while, but it wasn't intolerable. I was mostly shocked.

When we got home, I told Teresa about the paddling and how upset I was. She didn't seem to think it was such a big deal.

"That's one of the things they mean by being 'old-fashioned.' Most of us have gotten one. Some of my friends have gotten it twice. It's upsetting, nobody likes it, but you get over it. One good thing: they don't hold it against you. Once it's over, it's over. They're not into threatening to put stuff in your permanent record."

I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I had to admit, it wasn't as bad as what I'd been going through every day at West High recently.

The other memorable thing was at the end of the week, I got switched to the advanced math class. I was just leaving math class, and the teacher asked me to stay for a minute.

"Miss Rawlings, I can see that you're not having any trouble keeping up with the work in this class. I think you are ready to switch to the advanced class, and I think you would find it more satisfying. It's your choice, though. Do you want to switch?"

I still wasn't used to talking one-on-one with the staff, so I simply said, "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, I would like to switch."

"Good. Drop your old textbook off when you have a chance. You can leave it on my desk if I'm out. And on Monday, report to Ms. Higgens class, in room 121."

CHAPTER 23 -- Making Acquaintances

So far, I hadn't made any friends of my own. I mostly just knew Teresa's friends. Usually, you make friends at school, but there wasn't any chance to hang out there except for lunch, and everybody seemed to have their own group there. I could have tried sitting with a different group from Teresa's, but I was still afraid of people being mean to me.

I tried joining the chorus, like Teresa, but there wasn't much free time there, either. Actually, for a while, we had less. The chorus director was shocked to discover I couldn't read music and made dire comments about schools in the West End not teaching children how to read. I couldn't just stand next to Teresa and listen to her because she sang soprano and I got put in the alto section. So Teresa had to spend what little free time we had left in the evening teaching me the alto parts and also to read music.

So the people I got together with on weekends were all Teresa's friends. Not that they were bad. They were fine with me hanging out with them on weekends, usually at somebody's house or other. They knew my story, though maybe not the worst details, but didn't act like it made any difference. As far as they were concerned, I belonged.

One thing, though: they didn't think much of my choice of clothes. "You need to come up with a look, at least one," they'd say. "You look like you just picked up the first thing you saw at the mall." So much for Teresa's and her mother's efforts at shopping for me. Especially, they thought I could look prettier if I paid more attention to how I dressed. I explained that I wasn't sure I wanted to be pretty. A part of me still thought of myself as a boy, and boys aren't supposed to be "pretty."

"That's pretty stupid," one of them said. I think it was Ellen Gundersen. "What's the matter with looking pretty? Do they think their penis will fall off if they do?" They all cracked up at that. They seemed to think the word 'penis' was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. I couldn't help thinking that my penis had as good as fallen off, even without me trying to be pretty, but I decided not to make a stink about it. "Besides," she added in a sly voice, "maybe if they were pretty, they'd get further with us girls."

One thing they did get me to do was to get a haircut. They all had different ideas of what I should do with it, from getting a 'butch' cut to growing it down to my waist. My aunt took me out one day and, with Teresa's advice, had my hair trimmed to a page-boy cut that was fairly feminine but still wouldn't have looked stupid on a boy.

Anyway, one day they were digging through our closet to find something for me to wear, and they ran across a petticoat on Teresa's side: one of those net things that makes a skirt pouf out.

"What's this?" someone asked.

"That's a petticoat I picked up at a thrift shop," answered Teresa. "It's short enough to fit under my school uniform, so one day last year, I wore it to school."

"Did you get in trouble for it?"

"Nobody said anything. I think a lot of people could tell, but it wasn't showing, so it didn't count as 'visible underwear.' I did have to work to keep it from pushing my skirt up too far when I sat down. It was fun. It spiced up the day. I should really wear it again some time."

"Maybe it will spice up Melanie's wardrobe. Come on, Melanie, try it on." They talked me into putting it on under the boring skirt I was wearing and pronounced it "spicier." Then they had me take the skirt off and put my school jumper on over it. They decided that was good, too. When they got bored with having me model it, the girls who were wearing skirts wanted to try it on, too.

They were still going through the closet, and they found the blue dress. When they found out it was for me, they all insisted that I put it on. "Hey, we finally found something that looks good on you," they said. They got me to walk around the house and show it off to my aunt and uncle.

"You should wear it to church tomorrow," said my aunt. I gave in, and said I would. After the girls had gone, I looked at myself in the mirror for a while. Part of me really liked looking like this. The haircut was a little boyish for the dress, though. Maybe shoulder-length hair would be better. I was lost in thought when Teresa came in. She came up behind me and gave me a gentle hug, then started fussing a little with the dress, arranging things.

"It feels funny," I said, "having someone else doing stuff to me. You know, putting your hands on my clothes and my hair. I know you're not doing anything to hurt me, and it feels nice, but it's not what anybody would ever do when I was a boy. Except my mom, when I was a lot younger."

"Girls do that all the time with each other. Grown-up women, too. It feels friendly, I guess. And since we can't see what we look like to other people, and we want to look our best, we do things like that for each other. Like, I don't do make-up much, so when I do, I get another girl to do it for me. By the way, do you want to go to Youth Group tomorrow night?"

"Can I go and not answer lots of questions about my past? I've been trying not to think about who I was and what I went through, it makes it easier to deal with all the, uh, stuff that's going on right now. Actually, I'd rather not talk much at all, just listen and enjoy being there. Like how I used to be when your friends came over."

"I think so. We can talk it over with the youth pastor tomorrow."

I did wear the dress to church the next day, and nothing awful happened. A few of the grown-ups complimented me on it. We talked with the youth pastor, Reverend Jennifer Smallman, and she said she'd try to get the other kids "to give you some time to open up."

Youth group was in a room in the basement with old couches and overstuffed chairs and a ping-pong table. I wore the blue skirt and a blouse, and I was more dressed up than most of the kids there. Teresa and I and one other girl were the only girls wearing skirts. When we got there, two boys were playing ping-pong, while a boy and a girl were figuring out what kinds of pizza to order. Everone else was sitting or lying sort of draped on couches or chairs. They reminded me of a bunch of cats, the way they were in each others' laps or leaning on shoulders. After Teresa introduced me, I found an empty chair where I hoped I wouldn't be the center of attention. I tried to sit so I wouldn't flash anyone, but Teresa and the other girl in a skirt didn't seem to care. Sometimes they'd shift position and their underwear would show, and sometimes they'd move or pull on their skirt, and sometimes not, and nobody seemed to care.

After they called the pizza order in, Rev. Smallman, who everyone called "Jen" or, if they wanted to be formal, "Reverend Jen," got us all to sit in a circle and so a sort of introduction game, where we'd say our name and one good thing that happened since the last meeting. When it was my turn, I told how I'd gotten switched to a more advanced math class. Then Rev. Jen introduced the topic: how we feel about people's differences. We did some brainstorming, and then the pizza came, which we ate in the next room, which had tables and chairs. Teresa sat with me, and a boy and the girl with the skirt and another girl sat down with us. They asked about school, and I told them I'd transferred to Gabriel from West High. They were blown away. The boy said, "wow, that must take some getting used to! Going from Animal House to the nerdiest, most uptight school in town." It turned out the boy and the first girl went to Greenwood, so they started talking about the reputations of all the schools in town, which meant they didn't ask me any personal questions.

The second girl was pretty quiet, so I didn't find out until weeks later that she was the only other kid there who didn't go to Greenwood. Her name was Amy and she went to Hollingsworth, West High's big rival, not that I cared about that stupid rivalry. Once I got to know her, I discovered we had a lot in common: we liked the same music, we thought the same things were funny. We even liked the same pizza toppings: anchovies and onions. But that was a long time later.

After pizza, there was some discussion of a planned camping trip, then a game that involved people getting up and running around, then some discussion of the topic. Some people had guitars and we sang some songs. We finished up with mutual shoulder massages and lots of hugs. It didn't seem so bad.

CHAPTER 24 -- Tutoring

I was doing pretty well in my advanced math class, so the teacher suggested I try tutoring people in math after school. I started doing it one day a week, but after a few weeks, I went up to twice a week. I would hang out in the study hall, and if people needed help, I would help them, and if not, I would work on my homework. Except that there were always people who wanted help. They were almost always girls, maybe because the boys didn't want to admit that a girl might be better than them. Most of them were just confused about something, and after I walked them through some problems once or twice, they usually got it. But there was one girl who had real trouble: Sylvia Reynolds.

Each time I would show her how to do something, she would act like she understood, but then when she tried to do it herself, she would end up doing the craziest things. It took a couple of weeks, but I started to suspect that she really didn't understand much of anything about math. Her class was beginning algebra, but I started throwing in problems in arithmetic, and she couldn't do them, either. The only problems she could do halfway reliably were ones with arithmetic with positive, whole numbers. And that only if we hadn't done any harder ones. I wondered what she had actually been learning in all those math classes. How was it that no one noticed? I found out she was failing algebra miserably and they were threatening to kick her out of Gabriel. I got the feeling she was in a panic whenever she had to do any math and in a double panic because she was afraid of getting kicked out.

I started talking this over with my teacher. She didn't have any suggestions except to work on what she could do and go from there. Except that it probably wouldn't be in time for her to pass algebra. I felt really bad for her, so I talked it over with my aunt. Then I went to Ms. Ellis. She wasn't sure I should involve myself, but I said I just couldn't stand around and do nothing. I finally went to Mr. Wright, the guidance counsellor. They were all surprised that I was making a fuss for another student, but I said I knew what it was like to feel like the whole system is against you.

Meanwhile, I spent our time together just trying to get her to relax. I gave her little problems and puzzles that used basic arithmetic. A teacher from the younger grades gave me some problems that might get her into negative numbers and fractions without looking like it. Finally, they decided to let her drop algebra, since she wasn't learning anything and just getting depressed. She would need to take algebra or pre-algebra in summer school and pass it to stay in Gabriel. They reshuffled her schedule so she had study hall the same time as me, so I helped her during study hall and after school, too. So much for my free time. But it made me feel good that I could do something for someone else. The past six months or so, I'd been constantly needing help, so now I was paying it forward.

The tutoring helped with the friend situation, too. The students I helped in math got to see that I wasn't as weird as they'd thought from hearing about me. I guess they had thought I must have two heads or something. And Sylvia had quite a few friends, and they appreciated that I was working so hard to help her. She introduced me to a bunch of people at lunch. With all the people I was getting to know, I only ate with Teresa once or twice a week.

Sylvia also invited me out with her friends on weekends. They were different from Teresa's friends. They liked to go to the malls and hang out, which I wasn't wild about, but they were also into music. Making music. Most of them played some instrument. They also knew some boys who made music, so they'd all get together and some of them would jam together and the others would listen or bang on a trash can or something. They also went to a lot of movies, which Teresa and her family didn't do much. Sylvia liked to draw and could draw the most amazing pictures. When she wanted to, she could draw very lifelike pictures, but she also liked to draw caricatures. One time, she drew a picture of Ms. Williams and Mr. Wright on a nude beach together. She got all the body parts right, as far as I could tell. We all got a kick out of it.

CHAPTER 25 -- Going Home Again

About this time, my parents asked if I could visit them. I felt bad, because I hadn't really thought about my family, I'd been so busy with settling in to my new life. I had called them every few weeks when my aunt or uncle reminded me. So one Sunday afternoon, my uncle drove me over to my old home.

I was wearing a casual skirt and blouse and tights, and my hair was growing out of the boy/girl cut. When my parents opened the door, at first they didn't recognize me. They knew it had to be me, of course.

My mother said, "Martin, is that you?" I said "hi, mom," and reached out and hugged her, but she still didn't seem convinced. My uncle said goodbye, and I went in the house. She asked, "would you like me to get you something to drink?" in a nervous tone. I said, "you don't have to, I'll get it myself," and walked into the kitchen.

When I came out, she said, "you don't look at all like my son, but I know you're my son because you walk the same and you talk the same." She took me in her arms and gave me a hug and cried on my shoulder.

I could see that both my parents were having a hard time with my being even more like a girl than when I left, so I told them an edited version of what was going on with me. I told them about math, about tutoring, and about having to study all the time. "The nice thing is, everybody is nice to me. Nobody picks on anybody else. But we do study a lot." I didn't talk about school uniforms, or church dresses or anything to remind them of my sex change.

Biff asked if Gabriel had any sports teams. I told him they had some after-school sports clubs, mainly soccer and track, but no official school teams. Then he told me about West High. Things had settled down after I left, mainly because he didn't have any reason to fight with his old friends, but he didn't feel the same way about them. "I'll be glad to graduate and leave. The way they treated you, I saw a side of them that really grossed me out. I act friendly with them, mostly because I don't want to have any trouble, but I don't spend a lot of time with them any more. I tell them I'm busy with schoolwork. It's kind of lonely." He looked sad. Then he asked, "Martin, are you going to come to my graduation?"

"Why not?"

"You might not want to be around West High people."

"I don't think anyone will recognize me. Hey, my mom didn't. I can't see Tom Prescott succeeding where my mom didn't. Besides, they'll all be busy graduating."

Pete was just looking at me the whole time. I'd never known him to talk about deep stuff before, but when Biff finished, he said, "you know, you make a pretty good little sister." My mom sighed. "What do they call you now?"

"Melanie." I knew this kind of talk bothered my parents, but I couldn't figure out how to change the subject.

"Well, Melanie or Martin, brother or sister, I think you make a pretty good -- what's the word?"

"Sibling."

"Yeah, that. It's great to hear you're doing well. I'm proud to have you as my, uh, sibling. Put it there, sib." He grabbed my hand and shook it, then pulled me over and gave me a big hug.

My dad started talking about how things were at work. My mom brought in some brownies she'd baked in honor of my visit. We talked about the neighbors and about their summer plans. We didn't talk about mine. Finally, Mom and Pete went into the kitchen and made dinner. Biff and Dad talked about sports, especially the West High baskeball season. Then they talked about cars. I joined in a little then.

Dinner was -- polite. My mother kept looking at me. Sometimes I saw tears. I felt really bad for her. Finally, as we were just finishing, she heaved a big sigh and said, "I guess Pete is right. I have a daughter now instead of a son, but you're still the same person. You're still my child, even though you look so different." I could see how hard it was for her. I got up and put my arms around her and said, "and you're still my mom. And I love you." After a while, I went over to my dad, who was still sitting, watching us, and I put my arms around him and held him and said, "and you're still my dad. And I love you, too."

Later, after we'd cleared the table, Biff came over and said, "hey, what about me?" So I gave him a long hug and said, "you're still my brother, and I love you." Pete said he'd already gotten a hug and he didn't want to be greedy.

After we'd had dessert and washed all the dishes, it was time for me to go back home, as I now thought of it, but I didn't say that out loud. I gave everyone a big hug again, and then my dad drove me back. We didn't have much to say on the drive. I was mostly thinking how far my life had gone away from their lives. I didn't know what would happen in the future, but I didn't think we'd ever get any closer.

CHAPTER 26 -- Cross-Dressing Day

One day around the beginning of April, something happened that really upset me. When I got to school, people were buzzing about something, but I didn't pay much attention. When I got to my English class, though, I saw that some of the boys were wearing girls' uniforms, and I started to get nervous. Nobody said anything about it, and I sat down. When the class started, the teacher started calling the boys that were wearing girls' uniforms Miss So-and-so instead of Mister So-and-so. Some of the students would look at those boys and then look at me. I couldn't imagine what this was all about, but I was sure it had something to do with me -- after all, I was the only boy who normally dressed like a girl. I noticed that the other kids picked up on the "Miss So-and-so" thing and did it, too. I kept getting more and more nervous, waiting for something awful to happen. I had trouble concentrating in class. Finally, I asked the teacher if I could go see Ms. Ellis, the psychologist. My voice was pretty shaky, maybe that's why the teacher didn't ask me why. She did remind me to take my books with me "in case you don't come back before class is over."

Ms. Ellis didn't seem surprised to see me and she already knew about the boys in girls' uniforms. Word had gotten around about the boys before the first class, and they'd decided that if they were going to dress as girls, they would be treated as girls in every way. They'd have to use the girls' bathrooms and go to girls' phys ed. This made me feel worse. I told her how upset I was and how it brought back all the experiences I'd had at West High. I was sure it was a way to make fun of me and tell me I didn't belong here. I was kind of hysterical. She told me I could stay in the office as long as I needed to and could even go home. She kept talking to me and telling me that no one would let anyone make fun of me and they were fine with me just as I was. I finally settled down and went to math class late.

When I got out of math class one or two of the girls told me they'd heard I was upset, but I shouldn't worry, they had my back. I saw a teacher directing one of those boys away from the boys' bathroom. Later, when I used the bathroom, I saw one come in. He didn't look too cocky, mostly nervous, and he tried to sort of sneak into a stall and sneak out again, but one of the girls reminded him to wash his hands. There were two boys in our gym class. We were outside that day, and they were late coming out because they'd had to borrow gym suits from the school and then had trouble figuring out how to put them on. We all acted like they were girls but not our friends. By this time, I was still upset but not freaking out. After school I had my appointment with Dr. Gordon and talked about how upset I was. She said it was a productive session, though I was still upset at the end.

The next day, the boys were back in their usual uniforms: plaid pants, white shirt and plaid tie, and plaid jacket. I started to calm down. At lunch, though, I was sitting with Teresa and her friends when one of the boys who'd dressed as a girl came over. I tensed up and muttered to the girl next to me, "what's he going to do to me now?"

"I'm Dennis Lambert, from your English class, remember? I just wanted to apologize for getting you so upset yesterday," he said. "If I'd known how you would take it, I wouldn't have dressed that way and I'd have tried to talk the other boys into not dressing, too."

"If you weren't doing it to get me worked up, why did you do it?" I honestly couldn't think of any other reason.

"I think a lot of the guys just did it to be doing something different. But actually, I wanted to know what it was like to be a boy that suddenly had to dress and act like a girl. I guess I thought I'd understand what you were going through." He did sound contrite.

"And what did you find out? What was it like for you?" I asked like I was sure it would be something stupid. I was mad at all of them, but he was the only one coming over so I could yell at him.

"It was weird. It felt really weird."

"You have no idea. You have no idea!" I was shaking. "You think it's weird? That's what I feel like when I'm feeling 'normal.' Think what it's like when I'm reminded that I'm not normal, that I'm some kind of freak! You got to satisfy your curiosity and then change back the next day. I'm stuck here, neither boy nor girl. I came to this school trying to forget my nightmare at West High. I hoped that since I couldn't live as a boy, at least I could try to live as a girl and feel sort of normal. And then you and your buddies come along and remind me that I'm not. I thought people here would be better than at West High, but I guess I was wrong. I hope you had lots of fun, because I paid a high price for your fun."

He looked stunned. He muttered "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," over and over again as he backed away from our table.

I spent the next few minutes concentrating on my breathing, like Dr. Gordon had taught me, and managed to settle down. I apologized to the other girls for making a scene, but they all said they were glad I told him off, they'd have done it if I hadn't.

I started to feel better after that. By the time Respect class came along, I was feeling pretty okay. Like a lot of the classes, today's class talked a lot about understanding how other people might see things differently and I got to thinking about Dennis. He wasn't a mean kid, and it was unfair of me to compare him to the kids at West High. That night, at dinner, I talked it over with Teresa and my aunt and uncle. Teresa thought he had it coming to him, but I said I thought I kind of overreacted. I was also thinking that I needed friends and I wasn't going to have any if I cut people out of my life every time they pushed one of my buttons, but I didn't say that.

Next day, at lunch, I put my lunch down at Teresa's table and then walked over to Dennis's table. I felt a hole in the bottom of my stomach and I thought about how a prisoner who was going to his execution must feel. There were mostly boys at the table and they all looked nervous when they saw me.

"Dennis," I said, "I want to apologize for yelling at you yesterday. I still think you weren't very considerate, but you didn't deserve all the stuff I said. Especially the part about being like West High. That was really unfair. It's just that I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life the past six months or so and I guess I just dumped it all on you. I'm sorry. I did wrong. Can we be friends? Or at least, not enemies?" I put out my hand.

He stood up and shook my hand. "Friends." Then he took a deep breath and tried to smile. "If you want to eat with us some time, feel free. Any time."

"Thanks. Maybe another day. Right now, I'd better get back before my lunch is cold."

Teresa thought I'd been too generous, but I said, "you know how your father says, you can never have too many friends or too few enemies. He seems like a nice boy. I mean, at least he tried to apologize, which is more than anyone else did."

The next day, I told Teresa and her friends I was going to eat with Dennis and his friends. "Sort of a peace offering," I said nervously. Dennis's friends had already made a space for me next to Dennis. I don't remember what we talked about. I remember feeling that if I wasn't careful, I'd start talking and acting like I was a boy and I was confused enough as it was.

I ended up eating with them once or twice a week and got to know Dennis better. He really was a nice boy, always trying to do the right thing. He wanted to become a doctor so he could help people, and he liked Gabriel because it was about studying hard, which you need to do if you want to go to med school. He asked if we could get together some weekend. I didn't want to go to his place, but Teresa usually had her friends over at our place. I was also a little nervous about being alone with him without someone like Teresa around. We worked it out that he would come over, but Teresa and her friends would be in the basement while Dennis and I hung out in the living room.

When he was over, we talked about a lot of things. I told him something of what I'd gone through. One thing was nice: because he knew what it was like to be a boy, he could understand a part of me that Teresa and her friends couldn't. He talked about people seeing him as too nerdy and feeling pressure to be a little more, I don't know, macho maybe. Even at Gabriel, the other boys thought he could act a little tougher and a little rowdier. Part of the reason he went along with the cross-dressing was that it might make the other boys see him as more willing to break the rules.

Teresa and her friends would wander by every now and then on the way to and from the kitchen or our bedroom. One time Teresa sat down with us and talked with Dennis for a while, and later Bethany did, too. "It's almost like they want to check me out and see if it's okay for you to be around me," he said.

"I think it's because we know that guys can be pretty mean, even when they don't intend to. Being mean, even to your friends, seems to be a guy thing. We girls" -- I was trying to make sure he knew I considered myself one of them -- "have to look out for one another. And I still don't have a lot of experience as a girl. They have my back." I suddenly realized this was the first time in my life I could honestly say that someone had my back. It felt nice.

Content note: discussion of sex (chapter 28)

CHAPTER 27 -- Easter

Easter was coming up, and Teresa had been after me to get an Easter dress. That's a nice simple dress in spring colors that is supposed to make you think of flowers and spring and, I guess, Easter eggs. So one Saturday, Teresa and Carol and my aunt took me out to get one. Dennis was coming over in the afternoon, so we tried to get done before he came, but things always take longer than you think. We went to a store that seemed to be for people who wanted to pretend they were in a Victorian novel. It had pictures of people in 19th century clothes promenading with parasols on the walls and old-style dolls on little shelves. They even had a line of dolls with outfits like the ones they sold for girls, so girls could dress just like their dolls. They also had outfits for grown-ups, which I noticed because Aunt Edith was looking interested in some of them.

Anyway, they settled on a jumper with a pink top and a light green skirt with little pink flowers embroidered on it which came with a combined blouse and slip that you were supposed to wear under it. It was actually like wearing a jumper over a dress, and the hem of the dress was supposed to show. They also got me white knee socks knit in a diamond pattern, black patent leather shoes, and a broad-brimmed straw hat with a pink and green ribbon. Even a month earlier I might have objected, but by now, I just thought, whatever. Actually, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I liked it. When we left, I kept the outfit on, minus the hat. On the way home, they took me by a beauty salon and got my hair trimmed, too. It was almost shoulder length and it didn't look like a boy's cut at all.

Dennis was already there when we got home. Uncle Boris had been entertaining him with stories about the crazy things some of the students at his college did while he made lunch for us. Then I walked in, all done up, and Dennis just stared for a minute, speechless.

"Wow," he said, once he recovered his voice, "that is really nice. You look really pretty." Then he remembered how I was having trouble with the idea of being pretty and added, "I mean, if you wanted to be pretty," and then I guess he realized he was just going to sound stupid and stopped. Dennis had never been good at small talk, but he was even more tongue-tied than usual. While we were eating lunch, I caught him just looking at me like he couldn't take his eyes off of me. My uncle seemed to appreciate how I looked, but he was more subtle. I was still a little torn -- I felt like I wasn't supposed to be attractive like that, being really a boy and all, but most of me liked it. I'd never had people just want to look at me. Maybe the word is "admire."

After lunch, I changed back into more normal clothes and spent some time talking with Dennis.

"You know," he said, "I know you are, or were a boy, or something like that, but you make a really great girl. I keep thinking about how you said you feel like a freak" -- he looked at me to see if I was upset by the word -- "but I think you're the opposite of a freak. I really like you as a girl, and I think maybe I would have liked you if I'd gotten to know you as a boy, too. Like there's a part of you that's you, whether you're a boy or a girl, and that's pretty fine."

I couldn't exactly follow what he said, but it felt good and without even thinking I reached over and gave him a big hug. He looked surprised at first, but then he hugged me back. I explained, "at Youth Group we hug all the time. It's nice."

Carol and Teresa came in just as we were finishing our hug. They teased us a little. They didn't quite call us lovebirds, but that was what they were hinting at. But then they said it was great that I had another friend. We all got to talking about random stuff and just enjoying being together. Dennis and I had stopped hugging, but we sat next to each other on the sofa. I had this sudden thought: I could hold his hand, or at least put my hand on top of his. But I didn't do it.

Some of the people at the church were going to hike to the top of a nearby mountain -- it was more like a hill, but everyone called it a mountain -- to watch the sun rise for Easter, and the youth group had decided to join them. I was now a regular with the youth group, and had even started to open up a tiny bit about my life. Anyway, there was a dirt road to the top, so it wasn't like a wilderness hike. I decided to wear my Easter dress, but with white tights and some substantial shoes instead the patent leather ones. Teresa decided to wear her Easter dress, too. Then Aunt Edith decided to go along, and she wore a spring-like dress. Uncle Boris came along, too, to keep us out of trouble, he said, but he wouldn't wear a dress, even though we voted that he ought to. We got up real early and went over to the mountain. It was still dark, but by the time we got started up the mountain, it was beginning to get light. We walked up in little groups, whispering because it didn't seem right to be too loud. At the top, we just stood there, and nobody said anything. When we first saw a bit of the sun peek out over the hills on the horizon, Reverend Jen gave a short sort of sermon, something like, "As the sun rises, so did Our Lord. And so will we all." Then we said the Lord's Prayer, waited for the sun to be completely above the horizon, and then we went back down.

We went home, had breakfast, and changed to go to church. The youth group hid eggs for the little kids' Easter egg hunt and then we went to the service. I was going to take my Easter hat off, but my aunt instructed me that women didn't take hats off in church. It made me think how funny people are: we think taking your hat off is a sign of respect (at least if you're male), but if you're a woman, or an Orthodox Jew, or a muslim, you leave it on to show respect.

After church, as I was talking with the other kids in the Youth Group, I realized how much I was thinking of myself as just a girl. It wasn't bothering me as much as it did even a month ago. But I still didn't want to forget my old life entirely. That was me, too.

CHAPTER 28 -- Sex

If you know anything about teen-agers, you know that one big topic for them is: sex.

By this point, I'd learned about masturbating in my new body, although I usually thought of it simply as "doing what feels good." I generally did it every couple of days. To be honest, it was one of the few things that made me feel good about my changed body, and I not only didn't feel like stopping, I couldn't see any reason why I should. Not only did it feel good, it was a good way to calm me down when I was upset or worried. I talked it over with Dr. Gordon, and she agreed with me.

When I moved into Teresa's room, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do it. After a week, I couldn't stand it any longer and I started doing it after I thought Teresa was asleep, but I tried to be real quiet about it. Then one night, when I was lying awake wondering if she was asleep enough, I felt the bed shake a little and heard quiet little moans from below, and I realized I wasn't the only one who needed to "do what feels good." I don't know if she knew I heard her, and I still tried to be discrete, but I stopped worrying that she'd think I was some kind of pervert if she heard me doing it. Actually, I kind of hoped we would catch each other doing it at the same time, so we could talk about it and not pretend that we didn't both do it, even though I was pretty sure we both knew the other did.

About this time, our Respect class started a sex education unit. It was a lot more instruction than the class usually was and covered a lot of stuff I already knew, but there was some new stuff, too. I think that because ours was a beginners' class, they couldn't be sure we knew anything at all. We went over sex organs, menstruation, masturbation, reproduction, basic kinds of sex, including gay and lesbian, birth control, and STDs. They also touched on transgenderism; I thought it would make me uncomfortable, but somehow they did it so I didn't feel weird. We did some of it with the boys and girls separate and some together. I didn't say much, but other kids did. I listened a lot.

All that was just background information. They even gave us some quizzes on what they'd taught. Then they had us talk about sex. To each other. Sometimes with boys and girls together. Talk about awkward! They had us talk about how to deal with feeling attracted to someone. And how to deal with someone who's attracted to you, if you're attracted to them and if you're not. We brainstormed things like if you both decide to make love and then one of you decides you don't want to go through with it. And a lot of stuff about feelings.

One day after class, I asked the teacher, "one thing I don't understand: I got the impression Ms. Williams is kind of old-fashioned. I'd think she didn't believe in students having sex. But here we have this real explicit course on how to do it."

"You're right. She doesn't believe in it. But she's also aware that some students are going to do it anyway, and if they're going to do it, she wants them to do it with Respect. She's just being realistic. Besides, the state requires sex education, and this wasn't something she thought was worth fighting over."

I talked all this stuff over with Teresa and her friends. They'd all already had the course, so they talked about some of the questions and discussions they'd had in their classes. They ended up talking about which girls they thought were lesbians. We knew that lesbians often tried to get into Gabriel because Gabriel had a reputation for being safe for LGBTQ kids. There were some kids who we thought got in mainly because Gabriel was worried about what was happening to them in their home schools. I wondered if that was the real reason I got in. I was the only transgender kid they knew of this year, but there had been others in the past. Then they got into what they would do if a lesbian student came on to them. Most said they'd say no, but Ellen said she might consider it if the girl was nice enough. "Besides," she said, "who knows better what turns a girl on than another girl?" But she said she'd still rather do it with a boy. "They're so intriguing. They're so -- different." I didn't say anything.

I also talked about it with Dennis. I liked talking with him because he could talk about almost anything without getting all weird, even though I was a girl and he was a boy and, even worse, we really liked each other. For instance, I was worried about being attracted to either boys or girls.

"If I feel attracted to a boy, does that mean I'm gay because I'm really a boy, or am I straight because I'm a girl?" I asked one day. "And how about me being attracted to a girl? I mean, I used to be attracted to girls, generally, and I don't feel all that different now. Does that make me a lesbian?"

I always felt like I was crazy when I said these things, but Dennis took them seriously. He seemed to understand how I felt like I was really a boy, but also I was a girl, and it didn't seem to bother him like it did me.

"Does it really matter? I mean, if you're attracted to them, you're attracted to them. Who cares what you call it? And if you do have sex with a boy, it's going to look like straight sex, because you do sex with your body, and your body is female. And if you have sex with a girl, it'll look like lesbian sex, for the same reason."

He's going to make a great doctor someday, I thought. I was sitting next to him on the couch, holding his hand and leaning against him. I'd started holding his hand if I felt like it and he didn't seem to mind. And leaning up against him was nice and warm. Teresa and I would snuggle on the couch, too, especially if we were watching a movie together, but she didn't sit still as much as Dennis. With Dennis, I would pretend I was a cat finding a warm spot to get warm.

I started wondering what it would be like to have sex with him. Not that I was planning to, but I was sure that someday I'd want to have sex, and I thought I'd want it to be with someone like him. It still felt gay, though.

And if it was a woman I'd someday have sex with? Would it feel lesbian? Dennis's explanation made a lot of sense, but my feelings still felt mixed up.

CHAPTER 29 -- Prom Season

May is prom season. I don't think Ms. Williams approved of proms, but she probably realized she wasn't going to get away with nothing at all. However, the school does what it can to cool down Prom Fever. They don't call it a prom, but a High School Spring Dance, it's for all three grades, you can't invite guests, other than close family, and you don't go as couples. But students do what they can to make it prom-like. Girls get fancy dresses, most of the boys really dress up, sometimes renting tuxes, and both girls and boys stretch the definition of "close family" to cover people who you'd have to go back to the stone age to find where they're related.

This was Teresa and Carol's first prom -- I mean, High School Spring Dance -- and they wanted to get suitable dresses. Meanwhile, Aunt Edith and Teresa both thought I needed some summer clothes. I thought my blue church dress would do just fine for the dance, but Teresa and Carol wanted to at least get me to try on something.

So, one Saturday in early May, we went on a clothes shopping expedition. Again. I swear, I'd been clothes shopping more times since I started turning female than in my whole life up to that time. On the other hand, it was something to do that wasn't studying. They got me a white blouse with really short sleeves in some really light cotton that you could almost see through. I didn't see the point, since I'd have to wear something underneath so people wouldn't see the bra. Carol and Teresa explained with exasperated patience that seeing the bra was the point. They also got me a light teal sleeveless blouse. I got a short summer skirt and a flower-print sundress and some sandals. And a bathing suit. They wanted me to get a pink bikini, but I wanted a tank suit in a dark color. We compromised on a tank suit in light green. Finally, they insisted on getting me a miniskirt. It was like six inches above my knees and it felt like it barely covered my crotch. It was going to take all summer for me to get used to wearing them all.

Then we went to a store that had prom dresses. We met Ellen there. Ellen had what we call a lot in front and wanted a dress that would show it off without getting her kicked out of the dance. Teresa and Carol just wanted something showy. They each tried on a half-dozen dresses and picked out some for me to try on. There were one or two that I said I would consider -- for next year. Teresa picked a calf-length green taffeta dress with organza sleeves, and Carol, who has fairly dark skin, picked a knee-length sleeveless pink and black satiny dress. Ellen, though, got a long black gown in some slinky shimmery fabric that clung to her body and was open in front down to her breasts with a sort of slit down between them. There wasn't any way to hide a bra under it, so I guess the dress was designed to work without one. "Do you think the boys will like it?" she asked me.

"They'll be too busy trying to find their eyeballs after they jump out of their heads and fall on the floor when they see you," I said. She took that as a "yes."

I went out that evening with Sylvia and her friends to a church basement where some of her musician friends were hanging out. I met a friend of hers named Doris Spelman. She was an eleventh-grader from Gabriel. Sylvia's friends were talking about what they were going to wear to the prom. Doris said she was going to wear a tux, she'd made a reservation already.

"But you're a girl," I said, "aren't girls supposed to wear dresses to the dance? Will they let you in?"

"They just said formal attire. If a tux isn't formal, I don't know what is."

"You don't like wearing dresses?" I had a feeling I was making a fool of myself, but I wanted to understand.

"I don't like having to wear a dress," she insisted. "I think girls should be able to choose. If nobody's willing to be different, it's as if we couldn't. This year, I'm the one being different. Besides, I've heard that you say you're 'really a boy,' and you're wearing a dress, aren't you."

"Everyone acts like I'm a girl, so I might as well be one. And if you know about me once being a boy, you also know why I just want to fit in and not make waves."

I changed the subject. "So, will you dance with the boys or with the girls."

"Both. But that's not unusual at our dances. Girls dance with girls, and with boys, and with their parents and brothers and sisters. The boys won't dance with other boys though, which I think is stupid."

It was about this time that I learned a new word: street harrassment. (Well, two words.) Things like: one warm Sunday afternoon, one of the girls from the youth group was over, and we decided to walk down to the ice cream store for some ice cream. I was wearing my summer skirt and the sheer blouse and sandals, just to get used to it, and Teresa and the other girl were also dressed sort of summery. Anyway, we'd only crossed the first street when a car came by with the windows down and some boys in it. When they saw us, they honked and slowed down so they could stay next to us. They started shouting things at us about how they thought we were sexy and we ought to go riding with them. We tried to ignore them. Then they started telling us what they thought of our breasts and butts. We kept walking. There were people out on their lawns who saw us and those boys, but nobody said or did anything. Fortunately, they decided to drive off.

I told Teresa and the other girl that I was really scared of those boys. They told me they were a little scared, but this sort of thing happened all the time, and usually they'd just drive off like this time. Anyway, there was nothing they could do. "Just don't ever get in the car with them. Or even get close to their car," they told me.

Anyway, the night of the prom, Teresa's parents came with us. I found out that although we weren't supposed to have dates, some of the boys brought flowers for pinning on for the girls they liked. It was a little like having a date, except that sometimes a boy would bring flowers for several girls. Dennis was there, and he'd brought flowers for both Teresa and me. I thought that was a good way for him to guarrantee he'd get at least two dances with a girl.

The band played all kinds of music. There was some swing music and some music for ballroom dances and some rock and roll. We'd had some lessons after school in basic dancing to get us ready, but I still wasn't very good at it. Uncle Boris danced with Teresa while Aunt Edith danced with me, then my uncle danced with me. They were pretty good at it, I mostly tried not to step on anybody's feet.

Then Dennis asked me to dance. He was a pretty good dancer. I asked him where he'd learned to dance so well, and he said his parents had sent him for dance lessons after school for the past year. I don't know what kind of dance it was, I was just trying to sort of move in time with the music and not hurt anyone. I stared at his face so I wouldn't get dizzy or confused. I don't know if he thought I was in love with him or just hypnotized.

One of Dennis's friends asked me to dance while Dennis danced with Teresa. The friend wasn't much better than me, so we mostly just walked around in time to the music. He was trying to act grown up and manly and impressive, but not really succeeding. It was weird, because I could see myself doing exactly the same thing if I hadn't gotten turned into a girl. So even though he was kind of annoying, I couldn't get mad at him.

About that time, I saw Ellen in her super-sexy dress. I was really surprised because she was on the sidelines. I went over to her. "What's happening? I thought the guys would be lining up to dance with you?"

"I don't know, they look at me, but they don't talk to me. Even the boys I usually talk to at school. Maybe you were right about them trying to find their eyeballs."

"Well, I'll dance with you," I said. The band was playing a slow dance, so we just walked in time to the music. I wanted to take her mind off of not being asked to dance, so I asked her about what she was doing for the summer. After that dance, I got Dennis and another one of his friends to promise to ask her to dance. I couldn't help wondering: why couldn't Ellen just ask a boy to dance? But I knew she was afraid they'd think it was weird. Sometimes the world is just so weird.

Doris was there, and she was wearing a tux, just like she'd said. She'd cut her hair shorter than usual, so she looked like a girl trying to pass as a boy, but not really. I saw her dancing, sometimes with a boy, and sometimes with a girl. I was getting some punch when the music stopped, and she came over and asked me to dance. She was as good as Dennis, maybe even as good as Uncle Boris. She had me doing turns and one time even a twirl. I felt like I almost knew what I was doing.

"Who's that girl you were dancing with?" she asked. "The one with that risque' dress?"

"Ellen. I think she was hoping the dress would make the boys want to dance with her more, but I think she just scared them off. It's too bad, because she's a nice girl and fun to be with."

"She's not the only one," she said, giving me a knowing smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you," she explained, like I was slow. "You are a nice girl and fun to be with." I couldn't figure out why she was saying it. She looked exasperated. "I'm flirting with you, you dope. C'mon, flirt back. You've got to get practice sometime."

"You dance very well," I said. She gave me a sort of "and?" look. "I'd say you've swept me off my feet -- but really, you've kept me on my feet."

"There you go. We'll have you flirting like a pro before long."

I suddenly started feeling that dissociation feeling again, plus feeling hot and cold at the same time. "I'm sorry, I'm getting a little confused." I didn't know why I said it. "It's like, um, I don't know if I'm a boy dancing with a girl, or a girl dancing with a girl, or a girl dancing with a boy, or--." I stopped. "I don't know what I'm saying," I finished.

"You think too much. Just go with it. Do what feels good." This made me think of what I liked to do in my bed at night, and I almost lost it. She had to hold me firmly until I got my feet to work right again. I looked around and saw Dennis dancing with Ellen and Teresa dancing with another boy. Sylvia was by the punchbowl, talking with a boy and a girl. I noticed she had a flower pinned to her.

"Hey, am I so ugly you don't want to look at me?" I was afraid she was mad at me, but when I looked at her, she was grinning. "Got your attention, didn't I?"

"No, you're not ugly at all." I tried to think of a word that wasn't just for boys or just for girls. "I think you're very good-looking. Attractive. I was just looking around to see how my friends were doing. I was worried about Ellen...."

"Yeah, we need to take care of Ellen. I'll dance with her and get some of the older boys to ask her. It'd be a shame for her to have gone to all that trouble to wear a 'fuck me' dress and then have it go to waste." I looked around nervously to see if a teacher had heard her. "Relax, I looked before I said it." When the music stopped, she pulled me a little closer and gave me a kiss. On the mouth. It wasn't a big passionate kiss, but I was still blown away. She gave me a sly smile and then went off, probably to find Ellen.

Dennis asked me to dance again. It went a little better now that I'd had more practice. I wondered if I should try flirting with Dennis. He always seemed so serious, though. "You dance very well." Repeating myself, I thought. "I'm really enjoying it. And you look so handsome. I've talked with you so much, but I guess I never really looked at you. Until now." I think he blushed, but the lights were low, so it was hard to tell.

I don't remember all the people I danced with. There were people I knew and people I didn't. I do remember that Teresa asked me for the last dance. She looked happy. "Isn't this a lot of fun? I think I've danced with half the boys here and with some of the girls. I think some of them were smitten with me." She repeated the word: "smitten," like she enjoyed the taste. "And I'm so glad you're here. It's like I have a sister to share it with." When the music stopped, she gave me a long hug.

I saw Dennis, and reached out for a hug. I don't think it had occurred to him to ask for a hug, but he seemed to like it when I asked him. It was one of those it-could-be-a-brother-sister-hug-or-maybe-more type hugs. Then we said good-bye.

I saw Ellen then. "It's funny," she said, "right after you danced with me, boys started coming up to ask me to dance. Some I didn't know, too. And a girl, at least I think it was a girl. She was wearing a tux. I think you were a lucky charm for me."

I went and said good-bye to some of the other girls I knew, but they were chasing us out by them, so it was time to go home. Doris just gave me a wave and a smile as she went past.

CHAPTER 30 -- Biff's Graduation

A couple more things happened before the end of school. The Saturday after the Prom, I was hanging out with Teresa and Carol and Ellen, and Ellen looked upset.

"Some people have been telling me that some people are saying that my prom dress was slutty and that I was a slut! They said other things that were too upsetting to repeat."

We were all indignant. "Who's calling you a slut?" Carol demanded.

"I don't know. Nobody will mention any names. They just look at me funny and say 'some people.'"

"What a bunch of cowards! Can't even insult you to your face!" Carol said.

"Do you all think I'm a slut?" Ellen asked.

"Gosh, no!" I said. You'll notice I was trying to keep my language clean -- I didn't want the wrong word to slip out at school and earn me another paddling. Everyone else said more or less the same.

"Were they boys or girls who were saying this?" Teresa asked.

"I don't know. It was girls who were telling me, though."

"I'll bet it was girls and they were just jealous, because they didn't have the nerve to wear something like that."

"Are you all jealous?"

"No. It's not something I would wear, but I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Although -- if you were hoping you'd get more boys asking you to dance, I'd say it didn't work very well."

Ellen looked at me. "Melanie, you used to be a boy. What did you think of my dress? Was it slutty?"

"Slutty? No. Maybe a bit more, uh, explicit than anybody else's. Actually, I liked it. I thought it looked cool. I'll admit, I had a hard time not staring at your breasts the whole time. They looked really nice." Everyone laughed at this except Ellen.

"So if you'd been a boy, you'd have asked me to dance? You wouldn't have thought I was a -- a -- whore?"

"A what? Is that what they called you? I would never think that! If anything, I'd have thought you were out of my league. Like, why would this beautiful, hot girl want to dance with a loser like me? And if you'd asked me to dance, I'd have been tongue-tied the whole time."

"You didn't look tongue-tied when we danced."

I shrugged. "I guess, now that I know you, I'm not so intimidated by you. And I know how nice you are."

"You don't think it was, uh, indecent the way I showed off my boobs?"

"All our dresses showed off our boobs. I don't think there was a male in the room who wasn't aware of our boobs. Your dress was just a little more explicit."

Carol interrupted. "The question is, what do we do about this -- gossip!? This isn't West High, we can't have people at our school talking about other people this way."

"We could talk to our friends and get them to talk about how disgusting they think talk like that is," I suggested. "You know, social pressure. I'm sure Sylvia and Dennis and their friends would think this is awful."

"We should talk to the Respect teachers and get them to bring it up in class," suggested Teresa. "See, Ellen, we've got your back." And, sure enough, next week, the topic of gossip and insults came up in class.

The next thing that happened was my birthday. That Saturday, Teresa and her parents and I went to my parents' house, and we had a little party with ice cream and cake. But Teresa gave me her present to me before we went: it was a light blue lacy summer nightgown. "I've got one like it, so we'll match!"

I decided to dress up for the party, so I put on my Easter outfit. I was beginning to get used to dressing like a girl, and I wanted to look nice. And I didn't think that there was any way I could dress that would make it any easier on my parents. When I got there, they seemed okay with how I looked. We all sat around the table and had lunch and then my parents brought out the cake and all. My dad gave me a bookbag that I could wear on my back, my mom gave me a shawl that one of her patients had given her a few years back. I guess it was her way of showing that she accepted what I'd become. Biff gave me a book of jokes, and Pete gave me a book on repairing motorcycles -- sort of a joke, since I'd given him "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" for Christmas.

Afterwards, Teresa took me out to the ice cream shop where a bunch of her friends and mine were waiting to wish me a happy birthday. They gave me little presents, like a hair band and a floppy hat and dark glasses. Someone asked if I'd ever "really" kissed anyone. I said I didn't think so. This was my sixteenth birthday, so they started saying, "sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Dennis was there, so they started saying Dennis should kiss me. At first I didn't want to, but they all insisted, and I thought, why not? Besides, it wasn't like it was some gross guy, this was Dennis. Dennis was saying, no, no, too, but he gave in, too.

Anyway, we turned to face each other, and he held my shoulders, but gently, and we looked at each other. I think I was blushing and I had a nervous smile. He was a little taller, so I had to look up a little. Everyone got real quiet. He bent over and rubbed his lips on mine and then kissed me. I was afraid he'd stick his tongue in my mouth, like some boys do, but he didn't. He just moistened my lips with his tongue and rubbed my lips a little, then kissed me again. There was something magical about it. I couldn't move. I just stood there looking stupid. Then he took me in his arms and hugged me, and everyone cheered. I buried my face in his shoulder so I wouldn't have to look at anyone. It wasn't anything I'd have ever wanted to do, but now that it was over, I was glad I did it. If by "did it," you mean "stand there looking stupid while this really, really nice boy gives you the most magical kiss you can imagine."

I couldn't help thinking that nothing like this would have ever happened if I'd stayed a boy. I'd have had a little celebration with my family and that would have been it. I'd have never had so many people show that they liked me.

The last thing was Biff's graduation. I was a little afraid I'd run into people who would harrass me again, but I decided to be brave. I'd go dressed as a girl, which is how I always dressed now, and if anyone gave me any hassle, I'd just give them a raspberry.

So I sat in the bleachers with my mom and dad and Pete and we watched Biff go up for his diploma. I also saw Tom Prescott go up and get his, and I was afraid he'd see me, which was ridiculous. Biff was going to the state university next year to study engineering. He told me Tom had gotten a football scholarship at a school in Texas, so I wouldn't have to worry about seeing him around town in the fall.

After the ceremony, we wandered around and took pictures of Biff and his friends -- his new friends, the ones he made after the jock clique kicked him out. I was glad he'd made new friends. He introduced me to them, and they were nice to me, even impressed that I'd done so well after all I'd been through. "See, there are decent people at West Hell," Biff said. One or two said things like, "Biff, you've got a cute sister," and, sort of joking, "hey, Melanie, are you doing anything next Saturday night?"

I did see two of the guys who had held me down in the empty classroom in January and I thought my heart would stop, but they just looked at me a little funny and then went on by.

CHAPTER 31 -- Summer Education -- Beginning Section

People didn't call Gabriel students nerds for nothing. At West High, kids spent the summer lifeguarding or working at fast food places or just hanging out and getting into trouble. Gabriel students went to summer school. If anybody was doing something else, I didn't hear about it. Most of the people I knew were taking classes at Greenwood High, because the classes were free, but I heard that some kids were taking intensive music classes at the conservatory downtown.

Teresa was taking conversational French in the morning and a computer course in the afternoon. She'd gotten Bethany and another girl, Judy Klemp, to agree to go with her so she wouldn't be the only girl in the class. I decided to take a morning class in Spanish, so I could get to Spanish III or maybe IV by graduation. I thought it would look good when applying to college. Dennis was taking an advanced chemistry class in the morning, I guess to help him get into a good pre-med program. He seemed to have his life planned out. Sylvia was taking remedial algebra, and counting on my help.

The morning classes let out at 12:30, but my appointments with Dr. Gordon were still at 4:30, the way they were during the school year, and it took about an hour to walk to them from Greenwood High, so I had something like two or three hours to kill on Tuesday and Friday. Dennis's condo complex was almost on the way from Greenwood to Dr. Gordon's, so I got in the habit of walking home with Dennis and hanging out with him until it was time to go to Dr. Gordon. His complex had a pool, which made it even better. Sometimes he'd tease me: "do you love me for myself, or for my pool?" Sometimes I came over even when I didn't have an appointment with Dr. Gordon.

The summer school classes were a lot easier than the ones at Gabriel. I could get all my homework done in maybe a half hour each day. The other kids, though, kept complaining about how hard the class was. I hadn't thought of my Gabriel classes as so hard, maybe because we were all doing the same amount of studying, so it seemed normal.

One thing I didn't like about summer was the street harrassment. I never had any problems when I was walking with Dennis, but twice on the way to Dr. Gordon, I had cars slow down and somebody shout something out the window. The second time it was an older guy, which was really creepy. I finally asked Dennis to walk me to Dr. Gordon. He was happy to do it, but I felt bad making him waste an hour walking around. Coming home, I'd take the bus, which wasn't so bad.

On Saturdays, if I was hanging out with Teresa and her friends, we'd sometimes have trouble walking down to the ice cream shop, like in the Spring. I didn't feel so scared since there were a bunch of us, but it made summer less fun.

One time, though, I had a really bad experience. We were about to walk into the ice cream shop and three big guys, like football players, were going in at the same time. They started talking to us, saying something about how nice it was to meet up with a bunch of pretty girls and pretending it was a date. I was already feeling like, get me away from here. One of them said to me, "hey, girlie, what's with the long face? Lemme brighten up your day," and then pulled me over and tried to kiss me. I was so mad I punched him in the stomach as hard as I could.

"Hey, what was that for? I just wanted to give you a kiss," he said.

"And I just wanted to give you a black eye!" I yelled. "I guess neither one of us are going to get what we want." I added. Suddenly I was afraid they were going to beat me up, but the guy's friends just laughed and said, "she's got you there," but I was already starting to shake. I was suddenly remembering the time Tom Prescott and his gang dragged me into the classroom. I thought I was going to fall down or faint. I dimly heard one of the boys say, "hey, what's the matter with her?"

Somebody helped me onto a bench, but I hardly noticed. I was having some sort of double vision, or maybe more like double feeling. I could feel my shirt being pulled up, I could feel Tom's hands on my breast, I could feel my pants being pulled down. I saw Teresa and Carol looking at me, and I managed to croak out, "flashback." I couldn't stop the memories. I could feel Tom's hand on my crotch. I felt ashamed of being undressed and exposed, like I wanted to die. I felt even worse than when it actually happened.

I could hear Carol talking to me. She was sitting next to me and saying, "Melanie, it's okay. You're at the ice cream shop. You're not at West High. Nobody's going to hurt you." She was saying it over and over again. I nodded and started taking deep breaths. I couldn't remember telling her about the almost-rape, but I guess Teresa told her that something awful had happened to me there.

The boys came out of the ice cream shop and gave us all ice cream cones. The one who tried to kiss me came over and said, "Jeez, I'm really sorry, if I'd known you'd get so upset...." I realized he wasn't a mean kid, he just thought it was normal to kiss a girl without asking. I thought that, too, back when I was a boy. Teresa explained, "she had some really awful experiences at her old school."

My afternoons with Dennis were the opposite of this. We'd come to his house and change into our bathing suits and swim for an hour, and then come in and change and eat something and talk. Mostly, he'd talk about his plans for the future. I didn't say all that much because I hadn't thought about the future, and I thought he'd be bored if I talked about Sylvia and the street harrassment. When the weather was hot, we wouldn't bother to change after swimming, we'd just eat in our suits and then sit on a towel and talk and cuddle. I'd bring my sundress and just put it on over my suit when it was time to leave. We were always alone there, because his parents both worked, and his older brother was a lifeguard at a city pool and away all day.

One time, Dennis asked if he could touch my breast. He sounded kind of embarrassed about it, so I wanted to make him feel okay about it, so I said, "I'd love it." At first, he just touched me real lightly, through the bathing suit. I had to show him how to hold my breast. I told him I liked it, mostly to encourage him, but it took a few times before he felt comfortable really holding and, well, fondling it so it felt good. I started sliding the strap down on the bathing suit so he could touch my bare breast. It felt really good, like I wanted more. I also started unbuttoning his shirt, or, if he had a T-shirt, pushing it up, and stroking and tickling his chest.

At night, when I was in bed and playing with myself, or just thinking about it, I started imagining it was Dennis stroking my crotch and my thighs, and I'd get really turned on. Actually, it was more like I was getting swept away. I'd get cold chills, and I felt like I wanted Dennis to do this to me in real life more than anything in the world. It was wonderful and scary at the same time. I talked it over with Dr. Gordon, and she said it was pretty common for teen-agers to feel real strong urges like this. People usually called it "hormones." I guess I must not have had many hormones when I was a boy, because I never felt anything this strong until now. She thought that maybe the sex-change thing made these "hormone" feelings even stronger in me than in most girls. She suggested I not worry about it, and she didn't think it would be too bad if Dennis did end up doing what I wanted, but I should be sure to listen to how he felt about things and not push him into anything.

I wasn't spending all my free time with Dennis. Sylvia needed my help, so on the afternoons when I wasn't with Dennis, I would go over to Sylvia's to go over her class and help her with her homework. She could actually do the math, but she still panicked a lot and needed me to calm her down and walk her through everything. On the days when I saw Dr. Gordon, or if I was at Dennis's, I would go over to her house before dinner, eat with her family, and spend the evening helping her. Her mom or dad would then drive me home. I felt a little guilty mooching off of them, but they told me it was the least they could do for me helping Sylvia.

On Saturdays when I wasn't with Teresa and her friends, I would hang out with Sylvia and her friends. They had an above-ground pool in the back yard, so I'd bring my bathing suit and we'd paddle around or just sit and cool off. Usually Sylvia and Doris were there and Judy Klemp, the girl in Teresa's computer class. Sometimes her friend Nick, who she insisted wasn't her boyfriend and who played guitar, was there, too, and once or twice his guitar-player friend Jeff came. On days when there weren't any boys, we would sometimes just go naked in the yard and the pool. Sylvia and I thought it was a little naughty, which we liked, but Doris thought it was stupid to get so hung up on whether somebody else could see our bodies. "We all know what everyone looks like under their clothes." But actually, I didn't really. I'd try to see what the other girls looked like to see if the sex change really made me look just like them. I couldn't see much of their crotches, what with the pubic hair, but I did notice that Doris and Sylvia had bigger breasts than mine and Judy just had sort of bumps. Judy had kind of a boy's figure, anyway. I'd thought of Doris as some sort of butch lesbian because of how she looked at the prom, but now she was growing her hair back and wearing summer dresses.

"You know, Melanie," said Sylvia one time when we were hanging out all naked and naughty. "When you first started coming to Gabriel, and everyone knew you used to be a boy, a lot of people were wondering if you still looked like a boy under your clothes."

"Ugh," said Doris. "That's so disrespectful! Didn't they ask themselves how Melanie would feel?"

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty gross, too, and I didn't even know Melanie back then. Anyway, I heard that some of the girls in your gym class said they knew for a fact that you looked just like all the other girls, and after that, the talk died out."

"Yeah, I remember on my first day, one of the girls was looking at me, and she said she hadn't expected me to look normal. But she apologized. I guess she told everyone else, or maybe some of the other girls were looking, too. I didn't think about it too much, because I was expecting it to be a lot worse. It was so bad in the boy's gym back at West Hell -- that's West High, ha, ha -- I refused to go any more."

"I wasn't sure whether to tell you. I hope it's long enough ago that it doesn't bother you. And I hope you know now that when stuff like this comes up, we'll defend you. We have your back."

I shrugged. "It wouldn't have done me any good to be bothered by it. But I guess you're right, I had enough to worry about back then without worrying about that, too." It did make me feel a little less weird about checking out the other girls' bodies, though.

Saturday evenings, if I was at Sylvia's, we'd go over to that church basement where the youth minister had what they called a coffee house, which didn't have coffee, but did have pizza and pop and fruit and juice, and Nick and his musician friends would play and we would talk. Doris was really interesting to talk to. She thought for herself a lot and had her own ideas about everything. She said she was a radical feminist and had read all the big authors like Simone de Beauvoir and Andrea Dworkin and Naomi Wolf. When I asked her if she was a lesbian like everyone said, she said that was a stupid question. When she saw how I shut right up, she said she didn't mean I was stupid, just that I needed to think about it. She said the right question was were we being with people we liked and were we making love with people we enjoyed making love to. She didn't see anything wrong with her making love to boys or to girls, as long as she was treating them with respect -- the Gabriel girl was showing, I thought. And she didn't see why I shouldn't make love to a boy or a girl, either, if I wanted to and he or she wanted to and we weren't disrespecting anybody. It made me think of my feelings about Dennis. Then sometimes she'd sing a song called "R-E-S-P-E-C-T." Nick and Jeff knew all about how she liked it, so when she started, they'd switch to playing along with her singing and try go get her to go up on the stage, which was just a platform in the corner with a mic. Doris made me think of Ellen, who liked to talk about sex a lot, but I had the feeling Doris had done more than she talked about, while Ellen talked more than she did.

CHAPTER 32 -- Summer Education -- Advanced Section

I decided that I would ask Dennis if he wanted to do more than just fondle my breasts. He was holding my back against his bare chest and playing with my breast one day, and I was really getting turned on. I had changed back into my skirt and blouse, but had left my underwear off so I'd dry out a little. I pulled all my courage together and said, "Dennis, would you be willing to, you know, touch me down there?"

He pulled back and looked at me. "I don't know if I should. It doesn't feel like I'd be respecting you."

"Why is it disrespecting me if I ask you to do something and you do it? I mean, it wouldn't be disrespecting me if you didn't, either. And you've been so nice and so -- decent -- to me, I can't imagine anything you did being not respectful. But if it's too weird, let's just forget I said it, okay?" We slowly got back to cuddling, but he didn't touch my breast. I've queered it, I thought.

The next time I was over, it was raining, so we didn't swim. We sat and talked about school, about what we'd do in August. Then Dennis said, "I thought about what you said last time, and I think I'd like to try it, if you still want to."

"Sure," I said. "But let's cuddle first." I unbuttoned my blouse and let him fondle my breast for a while. He started kissing me on the cheek and then lightly on my lips. He had one arm behind my back and one on my breast and I was feeling safe and really turned on. Finally I whispered, "whenever you want." He reached down under my skirt and started stroking my crotch with one finger, through my underwear. I reached down and showed him to be firmer and to stroke the insides of my thighs. I was getting more and more turned on. I pulled my underwear down some, using just one hand. Now he was stroking my bare crotch. I guess those sex education classes were good for something, because he found my clitoris by himself. 'Clitoris.' I could see the National Enquirer headline in my mind: "I was a boy and now I have a clitoris." He kept stroking and kissing me and in a few minutes I came. It was as good as when I did it myself, but even better because I wasn't alone. I was with someone who understood me and cared about me, and who I cared about. I took his hand out and raised it to my lips and kissed it. Then I snuggled up against him and said, "that was wonderful." He was looking at me, kind of thoughtfully.

I was turned so I was half facing him, and I was stroking his chest and all the way down to his shorts. I thought, I want to make him feel good, too. I sort of ran my fingers over the zipper of his shorts and I asked him, "would it be all right if I, well, go inside your shorts?"

"Do you want to?"

"I do want to," and I meant it. Suddenly getting him turned on and maybe coming was something I really wanted to do, I don't know why. "But I don't want to do anything you don't want."

I kept running my fingers over his zipper, and he didn't say anything. I wondered if I should stop, since I didn't know if it bothered him. After a few minutes, he reached down and unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts and slid them down a little, so his penis was uncovered. It was already hard, and when I stroked it, it got even harder and sort of stood out. I had an idea of what he might like, what with having been a boy, so I stroked his abdomen and his penis. I slid the shorts down further so I could tickle his balls. All the time, I was kissing his cheek. I alternated using my hand on his penis and stroking and tickling him. I could tell from his breathing and how he was stretching and tensing his legs and moving that he was really getting turned on. Pretty soon, he started coming and shooting semen all over his stomach and up to his chest, so I got a lot gentler with my stroking. When he finished and relaxed, I kissed him all over his face and told him it was wonderful. It wasn't a lie. I felt like by letting me jack him off, he'd given me something very special, and I was afraid he'd feel weird about what we'd done.

We talked for a little while. I think he was still afraid he'd done something wrong to me, and I kept telling him how right it felt to me and how much I enjoyed being with him. I didn't tell him about how I'd imagined him doing this to me for weeks already. I tried to imagine how Doris would talk to him, except I didn't think he would go for Doris. I offered to get him a paper towel or washcloth to clean up the semen. "There's a washcloth in the bathroom," he said. I cleaned him up, and we got dressed. He was still looking a little distant, so I hugged him, and he hugged me back.

That's how it started. By the second time, he was eager to do it. We'd undress and start making out and fondling as soon as we got to his house. If the weather was hot, we'd bring each other off and then go in swimming. Then we'd hang around in the house until it was time for me to leave.

But that wasn't enough for me. At night, in bed, I wasn't imagining him putting his hands on me. I was imagining him putting his penis into me. I knew what it looked like, I knew how it felt, and when I put my fingers inside me, it felt like it was just a taste of what I really wanted. I didn't know if I should say anything to Dennis. Maybe he'd think I was some kind of slut.

One time, when I was around Doris, I asked her about whether wanting intercourse with a boy meant you were a slut. I think she was going to say something about that being stupid, but she could see I was really serious. I'm pretty sure she could tell right away that this wasn't just idle curiousity. She sat me down and looked directly at me.

"Is this something you really want to do?"

"Yes," I said quietly, looking down at my hands.

"Melanie, please look at me. Does the boy you're thinking of want to?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked him. I'm afraid he'll think I'm a slut and won't want to be around me."

"Do you care about him?"

"Yes."

"Is he a decent guy? Does he care about you?"

"Yes, he's very decent. Maybe too decent. But I'm pretty sure he does care about me."

"Then ask him. He can say yes or he can say no. I don't think he'll call you a slut, but if he does, then you'll know he wasn't really decent. No decent guy calls someone who he cares about and who cares about him a slut."

That night, I had a dream of Dennis making love to me. I could feel him inside me. I could feel him holding me tenderly. I could feel him thrusting and each thrust turned me on more and more, until I kind of exploded with ecstasy. I woke up sweaty and throbbing. I wondered if I had orgasmed in my sleep. I couldn't get the feeling from the dream out of my mind.

The next time Dennis and I were alone together and he was holding my breast, I asked him. "How do you feel about, uh, going all the way?"

"You mean, with you?"

"Yeah. It was just, you know, this idea that kind of popped into my head." Talk about back-pedaling.

"Is that something you want to do? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yeah, kind of. If it isn't too weird."

He let go of my breast and just held me. He was quiet for a long time. I weirded him out, I thought. "I guess it's pretty weird, huh?"

"No, I don't think it's weird at all. But I don't know if I'm ready for it. See, I like you a lot. And I like holding you, and, well, the other stuff we've been doing. But sometimes I feel like we've been going way too fast. Like my body's on a plane halfway to Tahiti, and my mind's still at home."

"Is it all right if I say I'd like to try it, but I'm fine if you don't want to?" I wanted to say, will you think I'm a slut, but I thought I'd just sound stupid.

"It's okay if you tell me what you like. The problem is, I feel like I'm supposed to want to, too. Like, if I were the big strong man you seem to think I am, I'd be making strong, tender love to you right now. But I'm not. I'm just a boy who wants to be a doctor someday and hopes like hell he'll learn enough so he won't kill too many patients. I guess I'm afraid I'll do the wrong thing and kill you. Emotionally, I mean."

I twisted around and reached around him and held him in my arms. It sounds like a cheap romance novel, but I felt like I loved him. I mean, I haven't actually read any romance novels, but it's like I imagine they sound like. "You won't kill me. Even if you hurt me, and I know you won't intentionally, I'll survive. I mean, I survived West High." I actually believed it at the time. "Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I just like being with you."

Well, the next time I was over, he said, "I've thought about it, and if you still want to, we could, you know, go all the way." We cuddled, took our clothes off, played with each others bodies for a while, and then he got out a condom. "See, I came prepared." I thought, I can't get pregnant, we don't really need this, but I didn't want to say anything to discourage him.

Just as he was about to push it in, I felt this spasm of anxiety and I felt my vagina cramp. I couldn't help gasping.

"I'm hurting you," he said.

"I just got a little scared and tightened up. Maybe if you can just gently stroke me down there for a while, I'll loosen up. I still want to."

He held me and stroked me and kissed me over and over again and after a while I started to feel like I was going to float away. He put a finger in, then two. I concentrated on feeling how nice it was to hold him and have him hold me. I felt his fingers sliding back and forth, and then I realized they weren't fingers any more. It didn't hurt at all. I started to relax and feel him in me. I felt him sliding up and down on me and how our sweat made it easy to slide. I could feel his chest squeezing my breasts and his legs on my thighs and I was beyond turned on. It just felt so good. I started to come, and I kept on as he kept thrusting, just like in my dream. I couldn't help moaning. I couldn't really think, I was just feeling how good it felt. I finally realized he'd stopped, but I didn't want to move. I just wanted to lie there in the glow and feel him in me and on me.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

I started to laugh. "Is the Pope Catholic?" I managed to get out and then nodded. When I'd recovered, I asked, "did you?"

He nodded. I gently stroked his lips with my finger, then kissed him. We lay there for a long time, just stroking and caressing one another. Then he reached down to hold the condom as he pulled out. He went into the bathroom and covered the condom in toilet paper and buried it in the kitchen trash. We got on our bathing suits and went to the pool, but before we went out the door, I took him in my arms and held him tight for a while.

That night, as I was in bed, I thought of the nightmare I'd had where I was going to be sacrificed at West High. "They can't sacrifice me now, because I'm not a virgin any more!" I thought. And I did stop having dreams (nightmares, really) about West High.

CHAPTER 33 -- Summer Education -- Finals

While all this was going on, I was spending most of my evenings with Sylvia. One evening when I came home, Teresa told me Dennis had come by.

"He thought he'd find you here, but then we hung out and talked for a while. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not. He's very nice and, well, you're like my sister. Did you like being with him?"

"Yes. It took a little while, but I think we hit it off." She looked at me like she was afraid I'd be mad.

"That's great."

So by the time Dennis and I were making love, he was also coming over to see Teresa several times a week. I thought it was too bad we couldn't all three get together sometimes.

Anyway, it was after that that Dennis and I made love. We made love the next time we were together, and then the next time. Each time, we didn't really know if it would happen. We'd cuddle and caress and fondle a bit, and then it would seem like making love was a great idea.

The end of summer school was coming. I was helping Sylvia get ready for her final exam, which was taking a lot of time, and I was getting ready for my own. Teresa and I hadn't seen all that much of each other, but I think she had a pretty good idea that Dennis and me were a lot more than just buddies. Whenever she'd mention his name, I'd sort of smile.

One night she asked: "are you and Dennis having sex?" I hadn't expected her to ask. Actually, I hadn't been thinking much about her at all. I said, yes. I wasn't going to lie.

"Is it good?" she asked.

"Yes," I smiled.

"I'm glad," she said. Then she got more serious. "Would you be upset if Dennis and I, well, made out?"

I thought for a minute or two. "No, not really. I mean, I don't own him, and besides, it's you, not some stranger. Just be gentle with him. I think he's a little afraid of girls. And I'm glad you told me. It's not something I'd want to be surprised with."

About a week later, when we were going to bed, she said, "I have to tell you something. Dennis and I made out a few times, and, well, we went a little further."

"You all made love?" I was startled. I didn't think Dennis would go all the way that quickly.

"Not exactly, but we went most of the way. I hadn't planned on it, but, well, we were both enjoying making out, and one thing led to another." I couldn't help giggling at the idea of Teresa just letting "one thing lead to another." She always seemed so in control. "You aren't mad at me, are you?" she asked.

"No, not mad, just surprised. He sounded like he wasn't sure he wanted to, uh, get physical with anyone. But I'm glad for you. I was afraid you'd be feeling left out. And it kind of gives us something in common now, doesn't it?"

That night, I dreamed Dennis had a heart attack while we were making love, and I was trying to save him, but I didn't know CPR.

The next time Dennis and I were walking from school, he stopped me at a bench.

"Melanie. I should have told you before this, but: your cousin and I made love a few days ago."

"You did? She told me you all didn't go all the way."

"Well, that's true. But we might as well have, as far as I'm concerned."

"Was it good? I mean, did you enjoy it?"

"I did, at the time. I mean, it was fun. But then I got to thinking, and I just don't think I can handle this any more. One girlfriend was hard enough, but two -- I can't wrap my mind around it."

"So you want to stop making love to me?"

"I need to back off for a while. From both of you. I don't think you should be coming over any more, and I shouldn't be going over to your place, either." It sounded like he'd rehearsed this in his mind.

"Will we still be friends, at least? Will I be able to talk to you? I mean, I'd be okay with you not making love to me and stuff like that if I could still talk to you. And listen to you talk. I need a friend a lot more than I need a boyfriend."

He looked really miserable. He finally said, "I don't think we can be friends right now, either." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he just sort of stopped and sat there.

"But you'll still be seeing Teresa, won't you?"

"No, not her, either. I'm sorry." We sat there for a while, not saying anything. Then he added, "I know you need someone to walk you over to your psychiatrist's, I'll see if one of my friends will go with you." Even while breaking up with me, he still thinks about my needs. For some reason, that made me want to cry more than anything else. And I did. I didn't make any noise, but I noticed tears running off my nose and dripping onto my skirt.

I don't remember the rest of the day. I don't know how I got home. That evening, I came into the bedroom while Teresa was getting ready for bed. "Dennis talked to me today. He says he can't deal with two girlfriends. He doesn't want to see either of us now. He doesn't even want to be friends. I asked if he would keep seeing you, but he won't. I'm sorry."

"You aren't mad at me? It's kind of my fault that he broke up with you."

"How could I be mad at you? I owe you my life."

"You what? What kind of crap is that?"

"Well, you did save my life."

She looked aghast. "So all this time, when I thought you enjoyed being with me, like, sharing a room and all, you were just, I don't know, pretending to be happy with everything because you felt you owed me? Oh my God!" She looked like she was going to be sick.

"No, no, that's not true! That's not true at all, I swear! I mean, it hasn't been perfect, but it has been really great to live with you and to share a room with you and to hang out with you. That's the honest truth. I've never lied to you and I'm not lying now."

She looked skeptical.

"It's more like I trust you," I continued. "You've never done anything to hurt me. I mean, of course you like to make out with him and maybe you'd have even liked go all the way. But you didn't do it to hurt me. You didn't do it to make him stop being friends. That was his idea. And I think it's stupid. I think he's missing out, not wanting to be friends with you."

"I'm not sure I didn't do it to hurt you. I was a little jealous, seeing how well you got along with him. I'm not as perfect as you say. Sometimes I'm mean. I don't want to be perfect. I want to be able to be mad at you or mean and I want you to be able to be mad and unreasonable and we can fight and then make up and love each other again. Like normal people."

"Well, anyway, I'm not mad at you. I'm just sad that it didn't work out."

We sat in the bedroom together, not saying anything. I kept thinking of Dennis and the idea of him fucking Teresa and me both. "You know," I said, "it's too bad it didn't work out with him fucking both of us." I reveled in using the forbidden word. "I'm imagining us kind of training him, like Pavlov and his dog, so whenever we wanted somebody to fuck us, we'd just call and he'd rush over. And if we both wanted, he'd do both of us, however we wanted." I started to laugh. "We'd tell him what we wanted him to do, and he'd say, 'Yes, mistress, your wish is my command.'" I said the last bit in the deepest voice I could manage.

Teresa started getting into it. "Why would he have to come over? We could just tie him to the bed in here. We'd have to tie him up and keep him in the closet when we weren't here, in case Mom came in." We were both rolling on the floor laughing. It wasn't really funny, but we both wanted to laugh. I think Teresa was kind of upset at Dennis breaking up with me, too.

The next day was Friday. Dennis's friend Zeke walked me to Dr. Gordon's. He was the boy that danced with me at the Prom, and he still kept trying to act more mature than he was. I gave him a little kiss when he dropped me off, and he turned bright red. My little revenge, I guess. It felt really funny not to have Dennis walking with me.

I hadn't talked to Dr. Gordon before about our love-making, and she scolded me a little when I told her about it. "You have to be open with me if I'm to help you." But she didn't stay mad long. I talked about how I'd felt with Dennis, and about Teresa and him and the breakup. By the end of the session, I was seeing that I hadn't treated Dennis like a person, either. I'd been only thinking about what I wanted out of him, not how he might feel about it. I tried to imagine how I would have felt if I'd had a girlfriend like me when I was a boy, but all I could think of was that I'd have been thrilled to death to be getting laid. I guess Dennis was different, or maybe I would have felt differently if it actually happened. But I couldn't ignore how he was kind of reluctant the whole time. And how broken up he seemed to be about breaking up with me. I guess I didn't understand him at all. Maybe I wasn't grown up enough for sex after all. Dennis kept worrying that when he was a doctor, he wouldn't know enough not to kill someone. Well, I didn't know enough not to kind of kill him. I felt like something you'd scrape off your shoe. She tried to tell me that everyone makes mistakes and even hurts people sometimes, but I still felt bad.

I kept expecting to feel really awful about losing Dennis, but it hadn't happened yet. I just felt kind of like a zombie. I went to Sylvia's on Saturday and Doris was there, so I talked to her about it. She gave me her number and told me I should have called her earlier, but I should still call if I needed someone to talk to. "We experienced girls have to stick together." Anyway, she kind of clucked sympathetically, but said, all things come to an end, and this was, after all, my first.

My aunt noticed how down I was, and asked me about it. "Dennis doesn't want to be friends with me any more." No way I was going to mention sex.

She put her arm around me and stroked my shoulder. "Yes, I know it's tough. You feel really close to someone, and then they turn their back on you." I was getting the funny feeling my aunt knew more than she was letting on. "I know it doesn't make you feel any better, but the only cure for a broken heart is time. And not being surrounded with reminders. Soon we'll be at the cabin in the woods, maybe you can get some heart-ease there." Being a social worker, she must have comforted people who'd had much worse things happen to them.

The next week was finals. I spend Monday afternoon at Sylvia's. Tuesday, when I would have gone to Dennis's, I told Zeke I didn't need him. I took the bus downtown and sat on a bench in City Square. I bought a coke and sipped it while I watched the pigeons and felt miserable. I expected someone to creep on me, but no one did. I took the bus to Dr. Gordon's and cried a lot.

I spent a lot of time with Sylvia, prepping her for the exam. It kept my mind off of Dennis, which was good. On Friday, we had finals. After class, Sylvia said she thought she passed. I walked over to her place and we went skinny-dipping and I tried to feel naughty, but I didn't feel too much. I ended up telling Sylvia that Dennis had dumped me, but I had deserved it, because I was too clingy. I think she must have been reading romance novels, because she started talking about how "faithless, fickle" boys were. After a while, she got me to start saying it. We took sticks and made little pretend ex-boyfriends and started throwing pebbles at those "faithless, fickle boys." But then I got on the bus to Dr. Gordon's and felt the yawning hole in my heart.

CHAPTER 34 -- In the Woods

My aunt and uncle rented a cabin for two weeks each year up in the woods, on a small lake, and they took me with them this year. We packed up and left the day after the finals.

The cabin was a little one-story house with a kitchen, living and dining room, and two bedrooms. Teresa and I shared the room with two twin beds. The cabin came with a canoe and a dock. There was a kind of village on the opposite side of the lake, with a general store and a pizza place and such. So if any of us wanted to get some pizza or shop or just hang out, we'd paddle over in the canoe. There were other cabins like ours, but there were trees between us so we didn't see them.

Teresa kept me busy during the day. She insisted that her mom shouldn't have to cook because it was vacation, so Teresa and I would trade off cooking and washing up. The cabin came with some bamboo fishing poles, so we'd go dig up worms and fish off the dock. Some days we caught nothing, but other days we'd catch enough for dinner for everyone. Or we'd swim in the lake, or canoe over to town and hang out and buy ice cream cones at the general store.

But in the evening, I'd feel a big hole inside me. I'd lie in bed and keep remembering how it felt to have Dennis inside me or fondling my breasts and it would hit me that I'd probably never do any of that with him again, and my body would ache with wanting him. Other times, I would remember listening to him and him listening to my ravings about feeling like a freak and talking me out of it. I'd realize I'd probably never get to talk to him or listen to him like that again, and it would feel like a punch in the stomach. I'd start crying and feeling like I lost the only friend I ever had. I thought I'd never stop crying and hurting. Sometimes Teresa would come over and lie next to me and put her arm around me. It didn't make it hurt less, but it made me feel less lonely.

There were other kids of all ages who'd come into the village. We met two boys, Ned and Robert, who lived in some of the cabins on the other lake, the one on the other side of the village. They lived in the city where the state university is, which is maybe 200 miles from us. Anyway, we were sitting on a cinderblock wall outside the general store eating ice cream cones and talking and, after a while, the boys and Teresa started kind of flirting, just as something to do. I just slumped down and concentrated on my ice cream. Robert was nearest me, and he said to me, "hey, what's with the frown? It's a nice day, you've got ice cream and two boys who'd love to give you some male attention."

"No thanks," I said. "I don't need any 'male attention.'" I went back to making sure that every drop of ice cream went into my mouth and not onto the ground.

"What's with her?" he asked Teresa.

"Her boyfriend broke up with her just before we came up here."

"He was not my 'boyfriend'," I complained. "He was just a friend."

"You could have fooled us. You guys walked together, talked together, you were over at his place practically every day, if he wasn't over at ours. And --" I glared at her, daring her to say what she knew. "Well, you sure acted like boyfriend and girlfriend. Whatever he was, he stopped being it two weeks ago."

"Just give me some space, will ya?" I grumbled.

The breakup was a good excuse not to flirt back, but another reason was that I was a little weirded out by the idea of me flirting with a boy. I wasn't any good flirting with girls back when I was a boy, and besides, I still felt funny about acting like I was attracted to boys or with boys being attracted to me. I guess I was still thinking like a boy. The thing with Dennis had been different. There wasn't any of that romantic stuff. We were just friends who trusted each other and, well, liked giving each other pleasure.

Ned was speaking to me. "What?" I said.

"I was saying, we have a boat over on our lake and would you like to go out for a cruise? Your cousin wants to come, but she won't come without you. You can come with or without frown." I couldn't help smiling at that "with or without frown" business.

"Okay," I said. I'd finished my ice cream, anyway.

Their boat was basically like a large rowboat with an outboard motor. We all got lifejackets on and Ned started us up while Robert cast off. This lake was a lot bigger than ours, and there were lots of boats on it: little one-person sailboats, canoes, kayaks, other motorboats, even a windsurfer. He drove us around and pointed out the cabins and boathouses. They'd been coming for years and knew a lot of people.

There was a strong breeze on my face, so I shut my eyes and just felt the sun on my back and the wind blowing my hair around. Robert was sitting next to me and put his arm around my shoulder. I wasn't sure at first if I liked it or not, but then I decided I did. It was sort of comforting. My sun dress was sweaty and my legs were bare, so what with the wind, I was getting chilly, so I sort of snuggled up against him. It didn't feel gay, just friendly.

After that, we hung out together pretty much every day. Sometimes they'd come over and swim in our lake, or we'd swim at the beach on their lake. I didn't talk about all the stuff that had gone on since last September, so I didn't say much about myself. They boys seemed to accept that I didn't flirt or act all girly around them. One time we were all sitting on the dock and Teresa was sitting in on Ned's lap kind of snuggling and kissing, and Robert asked if I'd like to sit on his lap. "You don't have to kiss or anything if you don't want to." So I sat across his lap and he held me and stroked my back. Sometimes he'd kiss my cheek or my forehead. I didn't mind. It felt good and kind of restful.

"You don't mind me kissing you, do you?" he asked.

"No, it's okay. What you're doing is nice. I like it. Especially since I don't have to do anything. I've had a tough year, and it's nice to sit next to someone and feel good and not have to do anything. Or think about anything."

"What happened?"

"It's more like, what didn't? Anyway, I don't want to think about it. The best part of vacation is not being reminded of it." I was getting upset just remembering that there was a past year. "Can you just hold me and talk about your life and stroke all the bad stuff away?"

So he held me against his chest and stroked my head and back and arm and told me about his friends and being in the school band and the drama club and going to see rock bands when they performed at the university. I dozed off, lying in his arms and listening to the sound of his voice.

A little while later, Teresa shook me awake. "Time to go home and make dinner." I realized I was lying down on the dock and Robert was lying next to me and his jacket was laid on top of me.

"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you," he said. We said goodbye, and Teresa and I paddled home.

The next day was the last day before we had to go home. We swam across the lake and met the boys at the village dock, and we all swam back to our cabin and had lunch. It turned out Uncle Boris knew Ned's parents from the university, but he hadn't met Ned. In the afternoon, we lay on the grass near the lake and enjoyed the sun. Robert and I lay next to each other and after a while we held each other and started stroking each other's sides and kissing in a lazy way, like it was just something happening to us. It felt good and was relaxing, having his body pressed up against mine and him stroking my back and my head and playing with my hair. I thought, I wish I could just stay like this forever.